The Gorgon (23 page)

"It wasn't your fault,"
she replied, her voice nearly a whisper. "B-But I must say, you seemed
quite willing to tolerate her insolence."

His eyebrows briefly drew
together. "I would not exactly call my attitude toward Margot
tolerant."

Summer stared at his mouth when
he spoke, enjoying the odd, wonderful shape to his lips. "I gathered from
her words that she is your wife's mother. If you do not tolerate her, then why
do you allow her within you p-presence?"

He lifted a resigned eyebrow.
"As much as I am loath to admit the fact, she is a member of my house. I
left her at Ravendark three days ago, but she followed me to Chaldon
because...," he suddenly paused, gazing into her eyes as he broached the
forbidden subject of Lora's death. "Because yesterday was the fourth
anniversary of my wife's death. Margot was angry because I opted not to spend
my time bemoaning my loss, instead, choosing to attend Lance's tournament. Even
though I left her at my keep, she nonetheless pursued me and is determined to
see that I grieve properly."

Summer watched his expression as
he spoke, the anguish, and was deeply moved. Reaching up, she gently stroked a
stubbled cheek; it was a bold move, but she simply could not help herself. It
was as if he needed to be comforted.

"W-What was her name?"

His black eyes glittered like the
crisp night sky; literally, she could see the stars within. "Who?"

"Your wife."

His gaze never left her beautiful
face.  "Lora."

She smiled faintly, still
touching his scratchy skin. "A very p-pretty name," she whispered.
"What was she like?"

He thought a moment, recollecting
his wife without the pain and sorrow that usually accompanied such thoughts.
"She was about your size with her mother's pale blue eyes. And she
possessed a head full of wavy auburn hair, a mane she complained over
incessantly."

Summer's smile broadened.
"Why did she lament her hair?"

The corner of his mouth tugged,
his heart leaping wildly against his ribs as she touched the curving edge.
"Because she claimed it had a life of its own and she could not control
it. Once she threatened to cut it all off and probably would have had I not
stopped her."

Summer laughed softly, running
her finger along his lower lip in her increasing exploration of his face.
"I know how she feels. There are days when I would shave my head as
well."

In spite of the decidedly erotic
gesture that nearly drove him to his knees, he managed to smile.

"God's Beard, don’t do
that," he breathed, not knowing if he was referring her beautiful hair or
her sensual touch. As he braced his enormous arms on either side of her
slender, luscious body, Summer continued to toy with his cleft chin and Bose
was gazing so intently into her porcelain features that he failed to remember
the course of their conversation.

"What else?" she asked.

He stared dreamily at her a
moment before abruptly responding, as if had only just understood her words.
"What do you mean?"

"About Lora."

"Oh," he blinked,
struggling to focus."Well, she had freckled cheeks and a nose that
wriggled when she spoke. And she had a silly giggle that could veer out of
control quite rapidly."

Summer pictured the lady in her
mind, curious about the woman he had once been married to. As she pondered the
mental picture presented, both hands came up to his face and she stroked his
stubbled neck with a distant expression.

"You cared for her a great
deal."

"Indeed. She was my
wife."

"D-Did you love her?"

He nodded. "I did."

Summer smiled. "I think it
wonderful that you married a woman you could love. Most men b-believe love to
be a fool's fantasy."

He shrugged faintly. Shifting on
his massive legs, he somehow moved closer and Summer realized he had come very,
very near. Her heart was pounding in her ears and excitement surged through her
veins as he focused on her.

"Men believe that love will
weaken them, that it is a woman's emotion," his voice was faint. "I
used to think so too, once. But I know better now."

He was so close she could feel
his hot breath on her face, causing her limbs to tremble with desire. As an
innocent maiden who had only just learned of the excitement of a man's touch,
the prospect of a stolen kiss was nearly beyond her comprehension. But she knew
that Bose meant to kiss her.

Softly, as not to frighten her,
Bose’s head dipped low and his smooth lips consumed her delicious mouth slowly.
God help him, it had been so long since he had kissed a woman that the first
brief second of contact ignited his senses and immediately, he realized his
slimly held control was vanished.  A kiss was better than he had remembered.

 Drawing back briefly, he licked
his lips and was consumed with such a surge of desire that he was unable to
control it. Removing his arms from where they were braced against the tree, he
swept Summer into his powerful embrace and clamped his mouth over hers.  In
that moment, he was lost.

Summer gasped as he hungrily
devoured her lips, licking and stroking and suckling until she was limp in his
embrace. Unable to support her own weight, Bose lifted her from the ground and
propped her against Grandfather's Oak, his mouth ravishing her as if he had no
intention of stopping. She tasted far too delicious to stop.

Summer was becoming accustomed to
his tender suckles, his heated tongue as it toyed with her own. His
delightfully masculine lips were driving her to the brink of madness and back
again and still, she wanted more. Hands moving to both sides of his scarred,
rugged face, she ceased being an inactive participant to his seductive attack
and took the offensive.

Through his haze of blinding
desire, Bose was surprised to feel Summer's response against his powerful
assault. Her hands were on his face, in his hair, and the surge of lust
building within him threatened to explode in all directions. His thick arms
wound about her once again, pulling her away from the tree as he somehow
managed to stagger to the other side of the trunk, using the massive oak to
shield their activities from the eyes of the curious. Falling to his knees, he
took down her with him.

God, her body was so beautiful.
So round, so full, so womanly. And her breasts... they were directly below his
seeking mouth, calling his name with a silent scream. Whether or not he wanted
to restrain himself from a more intimate action, he realized that his hands had
a mind of their own.

Summer gasped softly with
surprise as his fingers delicately moved over the crown of her breasts, tracing
the puckered nipples beneath the persimmon colored silk. Hearing her soft groan
of astonishment, feeling the hard pebble of delight straining against the
smooth material, was nearly more than he could endure. His pulsating manhood
was already painfully engorged, reminding him of exactly how long it had been
since he had indulged in the intimacies of sex.  But taking his pleasure with
the lady was simply out of the question. As much as his physical needs might
desire the action, his emotions were still firmly in control and he refused to
bed the woman without first coming to a great many conclusions.

He knew what he was coming to
feel for her, the power of his interest and mounting adoration. And as his
thick fingers gently roved the silken flesh just above the neckline of her
gown, it did not take a good deal of deliberation to realize that he simply
could not stomach the thought of leaving her behind once the tournament was
concluded. Clearly, the past two days between them had established a great deal
and Bose was only now coming to realize the extent of his attachment to the
beautiful young lady.  He realized that he intended to claim her, permanently.

Oddly enough, the thought did not
bring about the tide of guilt he expected. From the moment his lips had claimed
Summer's, the fact that he was kissing another woman only four years after his
dear wife's death was suddenly no longer a factor. He had expected waves of
shame. For everything he had anticipated to feel in light of Lora's passing, he
was amazed that the guilt had not consumed him. In fact, nothing in his life
had ever felt so right.

He pulled Summer closer.

CHAPTER
TEN

The feast that eve was a
boisterous, loud celebration. Even if the grand hall of Chaldon was crammed to
the rafter with knights and ladies and nobles alike, the massive room was not
large enough to accommodate everyone. Spilling over into the upper bailey,
through the open gates and into the lower bailey and encampment of knights
below, it seemed as if the entire world was celebrating the past two days of
merriment and games.

The massive hall was abundantly
lit, reeking of burnt meat and sweaty bodies as a small orchestra of minstrels
played from the gallery high above. A pair of mummers worked the room in their
jingling hats and pointed shoes, older men who were quite affectionate with one
another and on more than one occasion sent the knights into groans of
displeasure and disgust.

Amidst the bustle and revelry,
Summer sat between Bose and Stephan at the massive head table, her eyes wide at
the festivities going on about her. Stephan insisted that the very same party
had progressed the eve before, an event Summer had missed due to her
wanderings. Even though Summer did not regret her actions of the previous
night, she was nonetheless sorry that she had missed such an overwhelming
spectacle.

The table at which she sat was
crowded with Bose's knights, her brothers, and several other knights from
various households. Far down the table, Lady Margot sat in grim silence attended
by her peevish lady, while seated several feet behind the chatty group, Edward
was well into his second bottle of wine. The chair he lounged upon was a great
carved piece, inlaid with semi-precious stones and cushioned with silk that
Genisa had embroidered.

Summer thought he looked somewhat
like a king, overseeing the activities of his frivolous vassals. He acted the
part, too, hardly moving but to bring his chalice to his lips. He just sat and
watched. Even though the man was somewhat quiet and inconspicuous, Summer could
not help but feel a bit wary; when her father drank heavily, there was no
knowing what would spout forth from his mouth.

But she tried to enjoy herself
nonetheless, clad in a lovely scarlet and gold gown borrowed from Genisa. As
the other knights around her laughed and gorged and sang, she found herself
increasingly interested in Bose's crew of somber warriors. Except for the young
knight with the lovely auburn hair, the entire collection seemed to be far more
concerned with their own private dialogue than mingling with the rest of the
group.

That went for Bose as well. He
hardly spoke a word to the other men at the table, instead, only focused on
Summer or his own loyal knights. Stephan managed to wrangle a somewhat involved
conversation out of him regarding the latest style of armor worn by the
Teutonic knights, but little else. For the most part, he was silent as he
devoured his venison and beef; under the table, however, his massive hand
rested on Summer's knee in a discreet display of his growing affection.

"Summer!" Lance shouted
from several chairs down. He was quite drunk and quite happy. "You did not
see my bout. Where did you go after you left the lodges with de Moray?"

She nearly choked on the food in
her mouth, her cheeks flushing. "I-I...," swallowing hard, she
reached for her goblet of wine. Bose watched her carefully, stepping in to
answer for her when she appeared to be having a good deal of difficulty forming
an answer.

"My head required a good
deal of stitches, Lance," he said evenly. "The lady took great care
in tending my wound and stayed to keep me company while I rested."

Summer took another quaff of
wine, wondering how much penance Bose would perform in Hell for lying. She has
only spent a brief amount of time sewing his wound; the rest of the day had
been spent behind Grandfather's Oak, learning the tenderness of his kisses and
indulging in the discovery of lover's dialogue.

An afternoon that she would have
been willing to continue for eternity had the setting sun not prompted Bose to
end their clutch so that he might return her to the keep. The separation had
been difficult, but he had promised to dress quickly for the feast and return
within the hour. Leaving Summer standing on the ramp leading into the broad keep
of Chaldon, Bose had returned to his tent faster than he could ever remember
moving. Throbbing head and all, he did not want to be away from her for a
minute longer than necessary.

Throughout the feast he had
remained by her side, introducing her to his knights and placing his big body
between her and any man foolish enough to show a measure of interest. The only
men he would allow to speak with her were her brothers, and Stephan seemed to
find Bose's strong protectiveness amusing as well as oddly comforting. His
doubts of the man were fading and he realized he was growing comfortable with
de Moray's suit. He was forced to admit that he’d never seen his sister
happier.