The Falcon and the Flower (34 page)

He bit back an oath and vaulted across the bed to stand before her. She opened her eyes, saw his bare muscled legs inches from her face, and closed them again, sobbing “No, no!” He reached down strong hands to clasp her sweetness to him, but the moment he touched her she screamed and he realized this deflowering would be no easy task.

Still on her knees, she turned from him and rolled herself into a ball with her arms crossed tightly about her body. She was so tightly coiled he feared there was no time to coax her into a loving response, but he knew he must try. He desperately wanted to make her first time good for her, but he knew the precious minutes were ticking away. He deeply regretted that he did not have all night to make love to her, to arouse her, to play with her. This was no game. This consummation was an absolute necessity for her own good, her own safety. He knelt down behind her and lifted the silken mass of her hair to his face. His rigid, throbbing shaft pulsed against her back, and she bit down on her lips to stop herself from screaming. He swept aside her mass of hair to kiss the exposed nape of her neck. She knew the closeness of their
naked bodies and the warmth of her smooth perfumed flesh was driving him to such a pitch that he would soon be out of control.

“Jasmine, I want you to like it when I caress you, I want you to like it when I kiss your lovely breasts, I want you to like it when I make love to you.”

She raised her head from her knees. “I don’t like it, I hate it!”

Still on the floor, he lifted her into his lap, his back resting against the great bed. “My little flower,” he murmured huskily, “unfurl your petals for me.” He knew that the nipples of her breasts could be made erect for he had done it before. He dipped his head and caught the tip of her left breast between his lips. His tongue caressed it and circled it slowly, then he sucked hard, hoping this would stir the tiny bud between her legs to awaken and ache to be stroked.

Her sobs had subsided to little mewling cries, so he lifted her buttocks to allow his erection to slide along the cleft between her legs. She was so sensitive she could feel his heartbeat through his hot maleness with each and every pulse of his blood. She reached down frantically to dislodge his weapon before it sheathed itself inside of her, and she gasped with renewed terror as she realized its size. Falcon gasped also as her tiny hand closed over him. The intensity of his pleasure almost tumbled him into the sensual abyss.

She stood up and tried to climb upon the bed to escape him, but as she did so the golden curls of her mons brushed across his cheek. In a flash he had her soft thighs imprisoned in his hands as his hungry mouth covered the secret place for which it had hungered and thirsted for what seemed like a lifetime.

Jasmine was appalled by his animal maleness. Everything about him was hard as iron. His arms, his chest, his legs, even his thighs were corded with rigid saddle muscles.
She experienced none of the first delicate moments of the journey to intimacy when everything is new, veiled in mystery and promise of the passion that was sure to come. Desperately she struggled to free herself from his hot, possessive mouth. Finally she knelt upon his shoulders and climbed onto the bed. He was upon her instantly.

“Falcon, stop now … please stop now, or I will hate you forever.”

He said regretfully, “’T is a pity, darling, I must force you, but I cannot stop now. I know what is best for you. Please, love, try to understand you won’t be safe unless I make you my wife completely.” The words he spoke were the truth, but he couldn’t have stopped himself from making love to her in that moment if his life itself was the price he’d have to pay.

She sobbed her fear. “Don’t … don’t … oh, please don’t,” but he didn’t even hear her. One powerful hand held both her arms above her head and he kissed the intimate hollows under her arms. His lips covered her breasts roughly, wantonly, then became more gentle as they nibbled the silken flesh beneath each breast, sending wave after wave of pleasure surging through him as his mouth took possession of places it had never traveled before. The taste of her, the fragrance of her heightened the sensations until his very blood sang with the joy of her.

“Jasmine, open to me,” he urged.

“No, no … I cannot … I cannot.” She honestly believed that if he impaled her, he would kill her. She was crying hard now, her face buried against his chest, her tears bathing his heart.

Falcon felt he was being patient in the extreme. If they had had all night, he would have given her more time, but he did not. He went up on his knees to straddle her. After forcing apart her soft thighs, he placed one of his
knees between them to keep them apart. With firm fingers he separated her pink center covered by the tight golden curls and plunged down. He felt the hymen of her maidenhead give way and heard her terrible scream.

He quickly covered her mouth with his and thrust himself up as hard as he could as he pulled her down. At last he was buried to the hilt, and no force on this earth could have prevented him from carving out his place inside of her.

He was acutely aware of the tremendous contrast between their bodies. His great size emphasized her delicate smallness. His hardness made her all the softer. His powerful strength showed her fragility. But the greatest contrast was in their coloring. He was so dark, his tanned body half-covered by crisp black hair, while she was so pale and fair, her silvery gold tresses spread out in a tangle across the pillows. From above it must have looked like the Devil was ravishing an angel.

For him, magic danced in the air. His powerful hands held her imprisoned and immobile beneath him as he stroked in and out ruthlessly. She was the smallest woman he had ever made love to. She was unbelievably tight, and each time he thrust inside her, he had to stretch her anew. He knew that his first assault was hurting her, but he also knew that would change perhaps the next time he made love to her. He watched her face through half-closed eyes as he moved himself back and forth upon her. He was a skilled lover and knew just how far he could drive her. Each time she tried to cry out he covered her mouth with his. Finally in desperation she bit down savagely on his bottom lip with her sharp little teeth and he lost control. His erection erupted into climax, spurting his burning seed deep inside her.

It had been an experience like no other because he had been aroused to the point of madness before he had allowed himself fulfillment. Falcon also knew he’d never
have enough of her. Nothing would ever be the same again. He felt different; he thought differently. He felt fully alive for the first time in his life. Everything was heightened and he knew at his heartroot that she would belong to him forevermore.

For Jasmine, death would have been preferable. He rolled off her to catch his breath. She lay still like a crumpled doll. Falcon felt a great surge of power. He was triumphant, invincible as a god. She felt like a doe whose flesh had been torn and impaled by the hunter’s arrow.

He came up from the bed and she saw the small pool of blood upon the white sheet. She watched in fascinated horror as he dipped his great seal ring into her blood and stamped the sheet in half a dozen places with a crimson falcon. He was leaving his unmistakable, indelible mark showing the king, Chester, and the world that he had claimed the prize.

Jasmine closed her eyes, too fatigued to keep them open longer. His kisses had been so demanding she throbbed all over.

He dressed immediately, urging her to rise and do the same, but his words merely floated over her. He came around the bed and, kneeling down beside her, touched her cheek.
“Pouvre petite
, did you receive no pleasure at all from it?”

Pleasure? her stunned mind echoed. She lay limp, un-moving, pale, lifeless.

By God, he’d have to kindle a fire in her if they were to escape this place. He knew he’d have to make her angry.
She had a fiery temper when roused. He set about deliberately to infuriate her. He slapped her across the bare bottom and said, “Get up from there. I’ll give you two minutes to get dressed.” He flung open her wardrobe and rummaged through her clothes. He pulled out a woolen gown and threw it at her. She ignored it and let it lie upon the bed. He realized it would take stronger medicine than his orders to arouse her temper. “If you are lying there in an attempt to lure me back to bed, it won’t work. God’s love, but you’re not much use to a man yet. Next time …”

She was off the bed in a flash, hands on hips, teeth bared. “Next time? Next time?” she repeated like a demented parrot. “There will be no next time, Falcon de Burgh!”

He hid a smile.

She panted with hatred of him. He had acted like a brutal savage. Well, no matter how big his weapons she would find a way to return a more stinging fire.

“Will you hurry, woman,” he urged.

“Woman now is it, you silver-tongued devil? How I resisted you for seven long months is a mystery to me,” she flung sarcastically. “Now that we are wed the prize becomes the possession. You expect unconditional surrender. You, milord, are in for a rude awakening!”

He was rummaging among her silken hose looking for a woolen pair. “Perhaps you should put on two of everything. You can take only what is on your back.”

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

“Mountain Ash, of course,” he replied.

“You’re dragging me off through those godforsaken Black Mountains I’ve been staring at all week? In that case I’ll need everything.” She threw open an enormous traveling trunk and began to pack her dresses.

“Jasmine!” he protested.

“Lady de Burgh, if you please,” she replied.

He tried to hold his patience as she threw everything she could find into the trunks. He said furiously, “You do realize we are trying to escape with our lives? Must you act like a spoiled child?”

“Yes, I must,” she retorted maddeningly. “I’m silly, spoiled, pampered, and what was it you said:
not much use to a man.
Well, more fool you for marrying me.”

He picked up the ermine fur and she recoiled. “I’ll not wear that. I never want to see it again.”

Forcibly he wrapped her in it. “You’ll be damned glad of that when the snow howls down the passes into Wales.”

She stood facing him, her color high, he noted thankfully. She scooped up her hedgehog and said, “Don’t forget my pets.”

His mouth fell open. “You’re jesting. Honey love, we can’t take Prick and Feather,” he said.

“If they stay, I stay!” she announced imperiously.

He threw open the door savagely and thrust the bird cage and the prickly ball at Montgomery. “Wipe that bloody grin off your face. De Clare, fetch that trunk.”

About one hundred de Burgh men had gathered under the trees outside the stables. They held the horses their leader had ordered ready. They stared in amazement at the beautiful creature with gilt hair, wrapped from head to foot in white ermine. Each and every man wondered what use the exquisite little plaything would be to their master. Each and every man would have exchanged places with him.

Falcon helped Jasmine into her saddle, secured the packhorses, and called, “Away, lads, ’t is past midnight!”

“Nay,” came back the reply, “we’ll stay another hour to safeguard your back.”

De Burgh’s authoritative voice rang out. “Then we’ll meet again at Mountain Ash. Watch your own backs, men.”

De Burgh set a steady pace for he knew Jasmine was at the limit of her endurance. Remembering his ordeal of the previous day, he hoped fervently that the River Severn just to the west of Gloucester had not damaged its bridges. Once they crossed the great river, he decided against riding directly west into the mountains, but thought he would go to William Marshal’s castle of Chepstow on the Welsh border. With any luck Hubert and Salisbury would be there, and he would tell them plainly what he had done this night.

The Severn seemed as it had always been and they followed its winding course for an hour. Falcon kept a close eye upon Jasmine, wondering at the pride that kept her erect in the saddle. The long day and night were beginning to take its toll on him but he knew he must keep moving. He stopped only long enough to reach up and lift her in his arms, then, holding her securely in front of him, he remounted and wrapped his dark cloak about them both.

She did not speak one word to him, but neither did she make any protest. Gradually he felt her relax against the warmth of his body. Though she would have died rather than admit it, she was grateful to drop the role of Amazon, to lean back against his broad chest and draw from his immense strength. She resented that he was so unwearied, yet at the same time it made her feel safe and protected for the first time in weeks. She closed her eyes and drifted off. Before sleep claimed her totally, she knew she would never make the mistake again of underestimating him. He had come for her, after all. He had kept his promise to wed her if he wasn’t in Hellfire.

To de Burgh’s ears came a faint sound that he had both dreaded and expected. The galloping hooves gained on him. He could tell there were at least twenty on his tail who had been ordered to ride him down. The road ahead forked in two directions, and he knew he had no choice
but to try to outrun them. Neither he nor his black destrier could be seen in the darkness, but he cursed Jasmine’s white ermine in that moment, knowing the impossibility of their remaining unseen. And sure enough, a hue and cry went up as they were spotted. One way the road lay open, unimpeded. De Burgh knew he could make better time if he rode it. However, at the last minute he swerved to the right toward Deerhurst Forest where he hoped he might lose his pursuers among the densely growing trees.

De Burgh gripped Jasmine tightly with one hand and she opened her eyes and cried out. His arm came up swiftly to keep a low-hanging branch from raking her face, while at the same time his iron-muscled thighs guided his destrier through the trees. The score of riders were so close he could smell the leather of their saddles and the heavy male sweat of their bodies, then to his utter amazement and relief he saw men swing down from the great oaks and elms onto the backs of his pursuers.