The Hawk and the Dove (21 page)

Unable to bear the uncertainty longer, Shane grasped her hand strongly and forced the beautiful ring upon her finger.

Damn him, she thought wildly, he has the capacity to make a woman throw everything to the winds in order to spend her days and nights in his strong arms!

Even the tips of his fingers tingled with the desire to touch her breasts and other secret places, and before she had a chance to refuse he swept her into his arms to the seductive strains of the saraband. He held her so close to his body, she could feel his heat, his strength, and even his violence held barely in check. Her eyes went involuntarily to his lips, and she could not stop her imagination from tasting him and feeling his hot mouth covering hers. She closed her eyes and shuddered. There was no distance in the dance between their yearning bodies. They were both weak with desire as the beat of the music set up a rhythm in their blood. Suddenly his hands tightened on her and she knew he would be denied no longer. The muscle in his jaw jerked as he demanded, “My chasing after you is finished…. I will not kiss the hem of your gown, begging your favors with flowery phrases…. I am a man! I want you, Sabre, and I want you tonight! Is it yes or no?”

“My answer is yes, of course, for ’tis a man I would have for my lover,” she said huskily.

He took his hands from her tempting body and forced them to his sides, for they had yet over an hour to get through until midnight. “Meet me at the upper ward by the Norman Gate, where there are many trees to shelter you from prying eyes.”

Lord Hatton came to claim the dance she had promised him, but she had to disappoint him, for it was time for her to go up to her small chamber and change her costume!

Sabre’s blood sang with excitement as she stripped off the demure green gown representing spring and took from the cupboard the wisp of cloth that would transform her into a figure from Greek mythology. The white silk toga came only to her hips, leaving her long, slim legs completely bared. The white silk toga not only left one shoulder bare, it also exposed one beautiful breast with its pouting, gilded nipple.

She slipped on the small sandals and bound their golden thongs about her bare legs. Then, paying close attention to cover all her copper tresses, she put on a blond wig fashioned from a portrait of a Greek goddess with golden tendrils falling to her shoulders. She was the huntress Diana with real bow and a quiver of arrows, and as she fastened the winged mask across her eyes, she smiled her secret smile at the impact her unclad form would have on the assembly below. She tossed her head in defiance, her eyes shone brilliantly with their dare-me challenge, and she strode boldly down the staircase, confident that she would be the female most talked about and longest remembered when the queen’s birthday celebrations were discussed.

She had gauged the time correctly and only had to wait a short time as the last few gifts were presented to the queen. Then she slipped off her long cloak, tucked it into an alcove, and pushed through the doorway of the long gallery. Her courage almost failed her; but she braced her knees, licked her lips, and stepped forward with the confidence of a true goddess.

There was a hush, then the crowds separated to let her
pass through. She heard gasps as her long bare legs were seen and her bared breast with its golden nipple were ogled.

The members of the court stared, gaped, and gawked as she strode purposefully to the end of the room. The whispers began then became louder and louder until the entire room was abuzz with speculation. Some suggested it was a tableau that had been planned, since it was timed so perfectly to climax the celebrations. Everyone wanted to know the identity of the mystery goddess who had sprung among them in a wisp of white silk that revealed her divine form to perfection.

She knelt at the foot of the dais and placed there her gift of a golden arrow, the high cost of which would be borne by Hawkhurst. The queen stared bemused at the spectacle. Elizabeth concealed her shock and would not become jealous until days later when she realized the magnitude of the attention the mysterious goddess was receiving.

Sabre felt the impact of the burning eyes of the arrogant red-haired man who sat next to the queen. She’d never seen him before and didn’t know who he was, but she was impaled by his look of malevolence. In that fleeting moment she knew he hated all women and considered himself superior to every mortal in the room. She tore her eyes from him and bowed low to the queen. Then her long legs sprinted back down the length of the gallery like those of a true Diana, goddess of the hunt. Quickly she slipped into the alcove, wrapped herself in her cloak, and removed the mask and the wig. Within ten minutes she was safely in her chamber, locking away the bow and quiver. She bathed her flaming cheeks with rosewater, then slowly brushed out the tangles from her hair until it
billowed about her like a copper cloud. She would go to Shane dressed as she was! Her pulses raced at the thought of what his reaction would be. Would he want to kill her for exposing herself to other men’s eyes, or would the need to possess her blot out everything save his hunger? She shivered with anticipation at the thought of his anger and lust; a devastating combination.

Shane Hawkhurst pulled the diamond buttons from his doublet and secured them in an inside pocket before he began his ascent of the thick stone walls of the north terrace. Her Majesty’s state apartments were in the upper ward of the castle and he was familiar with the queen’s private bedroom and its antechambers, which overlooked the gardens of the north terrace through its elegant arched windows. Although the draperies were drawn at most of the windows, he could easily see into the rooms of the queen’s private apartment. He waited patiently while her ladies divested her of her golden gown and she selected a negligee that revealed more than it concealed. He smiled knowingly to himself. Bess loved to show off her body to men. Leicester, when he was at court, handed her her shift in bed each morning and often she could be seen in dishabille waving from her windows to a favorite in the garden below.

His mind kept running ahead to the hours he would spend abed with Sabre, and he almost left when he pictured her waiting for him at the Norman Gate; but he forced himself to patience and finally he was rewarded when Bess’s ladies left her for the night and he saw her hurry across her chamber to an inner door. She opened it and the unmistakable figure of his father stepped into the room to dominate the small female who had left her
queenship outside her bedchamber this night so she could play the woman.

Satisfied that the earl of Tyrone was home safe, now that she had allowed him this much intimacy, he descended the stone walls with a feeling of relief. Because of his quick action in bringing him out of Ireland, he had probably saved his life.

He stood quietly in the shadow of a beech, afraid that Sabre had tired of waiting for him. Then he saw a movement along the garden path and his heart lifted in triumph.

“Darling,” he whispered, and gathered her close in a protective embrace. He was impatient to bring her home, so he tucked her beneath one arm. “Come, we’ll take the river.”

She smiled. He was too impatient to dally with kisses here in the labyrinths of the garden, for Windsor was much farther from Thames View than Greenwich. His shrill whistle pierced the night air and carried onto the water to a wherryman, who brought his barge over to the water steps. “Kew,” he said curtly, tossing him a small gold coin, then he drew Sabre to the cushions in the shadows at the back of the boat and took her into his strong arms. His mouth found hers and he whispered against her lips, “Tomorrow I’ll order you a barge of your own. ’Twill give us privacy from prying eyes, and I want you to come to me whenever you can, my love.”

He tried to be gentle as his mouth covered hers, but his seeking hands went beneath her cloak and came in contact with bare flesh.

“God’s blood, you’re almost naked,” he whispered hoarsely as he let his hands play and slide up her silken thighs. He did not connect her with the female in the
short silk toga who had scandalized the court but imagined her to be clad in only an undergarment to tantalize him. “Ah, my beloved Sabre, you are incomparable; one of a kind.” He laid her back upon the cushions and pressed her to the hard length of him. “You’ve led me such a dance; think of all the time we’ve wasted,” he said against her throat.

She teased, “’Tis only a game we play, m’lord. You told me so yourself. You have enjoyed the chase and I have enjoyed the wooing. I think so far it is a draw between us.”

“No game this, I am in deadly earnest, my darling.” He groaned. “I’ve wanted you from the moment I set eyes upon you.”

“When I was lost and you took advantage of me!” she accused.

“Ah, no, my beautiful Sabre, you stole my heart from me long before that.”

Wildly curious, she pretended indifference. He would tell her in bed, she promised herself. In bed was where he was going to tell her everything she wished to know.

He fondled her shamelessly until she was hot with desire for him. He pushed aside the scant silk undergarment and stroked her unmercifully with his long, hard fingers, never taking his mouth from hers. When he wanted to bring her to a little climax he plundered her mouth with his thrusting tongue and thrilled as she arched into his hand.

The wherryman called out “Kew water steps” in a loud voice, as he knew the couple in the shadows were on the verge of coupling. Sabre felt the tension and desire rise in him. “I cannot let you from my arms,” he said. When the barge stopped, he wrapped her cloak tight
around her and carried her up the water steps, across the lawns, and into the big house. He swept her up the grand staircase without pause and set her gently on her feet while he locked the door of the master bedchamber and lit the candles.

She stood quietly beside the massive curtained bed until he turned to her from lighting the candles. Very deliberately she unfastened her cloak and let it slip in a dark pool to the carpet, revealing herself to him as the goddess Diana.

His eyes widened in surprise. “It was you!” he said in amazement. She saw his dark blue eyes smolder with anger as he closed the space between them swiftly and, taking hold of her shoulders, jerked her to him. “Why? Why must you play the wanton?” he demanded, shaking her angrily.

She tilted her head back provocatively to take in his great height. “Because I’m jealous of the queen and I intend to steal you from her totally and absolutely.”

“Little witch! I’m the one who’s mad with jealousy, and well you know it!”

She placed her hands over his on her shoulders to draw the strap of the toga from her covered breast. It slipped down her arm and slithered to the floor. His eyes fastened on her gilded nipples thrusting up impudently, and he was lost. His passion engulfed her and she cried out at a particularly brutal caress, but her cry was smothered as his mouth crushed down upon hers. He forced her head back, arching her until her ripe breasts were pressed full against his hard, muscular chest. He kissed her eyelids and her ears, murmuring passionate, unintelligible words. He licked the little beauty spot high on her cheekbone as
he pressed himself boldly against her until every inch of their bodies touched.

She knew he was a passionate man, yet she was amazed and a little afraid at the raging ardor she had awakened in him. Her arms entwined about his neck and he hungrily lifted her against his heart. She let the small core of remaining resistance melt away as she clung to him hungrily, inviting his frankly sensual exploration of her mouth. He lifted her to the bed and stripped off his clothes with sure, deft fingers. His hands were caressing her bare limbs now as he unwrapped the thongs of her sandals and tore away the silk undergarment.

The bed dipped as he knelt above her and his whipcord arms came slowly around her. She knew his great strength, yet she marveled at his ease in lifting her, turning her, and taking her down with him. His hardness was a hot, burning brand against her thighs. He began to explore the secrets of her body with the sureness of a knowledgeable lover. He moved his fingers and his mouth over her with deliberate slowness, savoring what he found, until she trembled beneath his slightest touch. She gasped, wanting more, and he gave it. He buried his face against her throat. “I have waited an eternity for this,” he murmured thickly.

Then his mouth began to taste and tease her breasts until her nipples throbbed and she was tight and aching inside with her need for him. She moaned with pleasure and frustration as her nails dug deeply into the shoulder blade where the dragon rampaged. He gasped and thrust into her deeply. His shaft was long and thick, and she felt a quicksilver stab of pain, instantly replaced by a hot, burning, throbbing fullness that went deeper and deeper
until she thought she must die of it. She clasped her legs about him and yielded completely to his flaming kisses.

Dimly she heard him shout with exultation at his possession of her. She lay pinioned beneath his strong body; his now at last, totally
his!
He set up a rhythm in the silken depths of her tight sheath and matched it with his tongue. He was making her fly with the wind. She could feel him pulsing and quivering within her soft body, and she felt him growing bigger with his insatiable hunger for her. Instinctively she knew this was greater than what most lovers experienced. Feelings and sensations that ran deep into the soul would bind them together through eternity. He was in her blood no matter how she had tried to deny it, and she would not rest until he was plagued by her night and day; obsessed by her to the point where he would perish without her. She cared not what she had to do to enslave him. She would be witch and angel; she would be everything to this man, slave, concubine, mistress, whore. She would be his wife and she would be his enemy!

Her thoughts spun away from her as she was rendered mindless. She could only feel and taste the pleasure of him now as her blood pulsed through her veins, spiraling her higher and higher, to a point where it was totally, physically impossible to endure more exquisite pleasure. Yet still his plunging thrusts went deeper and faster until every nerve trembled with the fury of his assault. He was savagely demanding in his lovemaking, his body’s strength urging her to meet and match his towering passion.