The Third Son (19 page)

“He’s alive,” Damien announced, as Isabelle and Esmeralda appeared beside them. “He’s just unconscious.”  

Tears streaked Isabelle’s cheeks as she knelt beside Lionus, using her undoubtedly expensive pink shawl to staunch the blood pouring from his head. Queen Alexandra had been left in the care of her courtiers, who had awakened her with a vial of smelling salts and now sat in a cluster around her, holding her hand and fanning her flushed cheeks. Serge commanded a page to send a footman for the physician. He helped Damien and Nicolai lift him and carry him to his chambers. Esmeralda and Isabelle followed, clutching each other’s hands tightly.

Chapter 11

They carried Lionus to his chambers where maids were already scurrying about with hot water, towels and bandages. Isabelle sent the maids away, electing to tend to his wounds herself, with Esmeralda’s help. While the blood was washed from Lionus’ face and hair, Damien went to his chambers to have his armor removed. When he returned, Nicolai and Serge had removed Lionus’ armor and laid him beneath the covers. The doctor came in to examine him and stitch his wound closed.  

“You may want to have a bottle of spirits or laudanum nearby for when he wakes up,” the physician suggested. “He is definitely going to need it.”

Isabelle ordered both brought to his chambers and elected to stay with Lionus and let them all know when he had awakened. Damien, Nicolai, Serge, and Esmeralda left her with two armed guards.

“Well, I suppose it’s safe to say the rest of the day is shot,” Nicolai said, as they walked. Since the last event had come to an abrupt halt, Queen Alexandra had herded the entire court inside for the planned luncheon. They spied the small crush inside the yellow drawing room, milling about and chatting as they waited for lunch to be served.

“Does anyone else think that accident seemed a bit strange?” asked Serge, stopping a few feet from the drawing room doors, his voice lowered. “Lionus was practically born on the saddle of a horse
. H
e knew how to handle his mount. Besides which, we had the horses inspected for lameness or injuries just yesterday.”

Damien frowned. “You think this wasn’t an accident?”

“I am just saying that it seemed strange, the way Lionus’ horse went down,” Serge said. “Something isn’t right.”

Nicolai wrinkled his brow. “Are you sure you aren’t just making something out of nothing? Accidents happen all the time.”

Damien shrugged. “The least we can do is have the horse inspected and maybe even the area around the tent where we were preparing for any suspicious signs.”

Serge nodded. “I’ll have it done right now,” he said, heading off toward the door. “Tell mother I won’t be attending lunch.”

“It’s not as if she would notice,” Damien said, taking hold of Esmeralda’s hand. “With Lionus injured, she is sure to forget about her other two sons until he is well. I won’t be attending either,” he told Nicolai, leading Esmeralda away. 

“Are you all right?” she asked, following him in the direction of the kitchen. “That must have been terrible for you, watching your brother fall that way.”

Damien nodded. “I’m fine. I just need some time away from the crush. Besides, I have something planned for you.”

They stopped in the kitchen where Damien acquired a large basket from the smiling cook. “All the things you asked for, your grace!” she bubbled proudly, clasping her hands over her oversized bosom. “I hope you and the lady enjoy it.” 

“If you made it, I know we will, Doris,” Damien said in that charming way of his, before dragging Esmeralda off toward the stables.

`“Where are we going?” she asked, trotting to keep up with his long strides. 

“Somewhere special,” he said, accepting Persephone’s reigns from Desmond, who had come to groom Hercules and put him back in his stall. “Take the rest of the day off,” Damien told him, handing him a small sack of coins. “That’s your share in my winnings for the day. You made an excellent page.”

“Thanks Damien!” Desmond said with a smile, thrusting the small sack into his pocket. “Should I have a mare saddled for Esmeralda before I go?”

“That would be good,” said Damien. “I think Cinnamon will do.” 

Once the chestnut mare had been saddled and Desmond had set off for home, Damien mounted Persephone and led Esmeralda across the open green lawn at a slow canter. She had never before ridden in a sidesaddle, and so she sat astride, revealing much of her long legs encased in sheer stockings. Damien found himself staring and grasped for a distraction.

“How about a race,” he suggested, desperate to calm his racing blood. The more time he spent in Esmeralda’s company, the more he wanted her. Two weeks had turned him into a starving man, craving sustenance in the small kisses and caresses she allowed him. He was trying to be patient, but she was just so damned tempting.

“A race?” she questioned with a laugh, her face tilted upward to the sun, her skin shimmering enticingly in the afternoon sunlight. “How will I race you if I don’t even know where we’re going?”

“See that little copse of trees over there?” He pointed toward his private domain, which stood in the familiar circle of trees some distance away. She nodded. Then her smile turned mischievous. Before Damien could guess her intent, she spurred her horse forward and took off toward the little glen. Damien chuckled and followed her. He could have easily overtaken her, but was content to ride behind her
.
Damien watched, dazzled, as
her hair unwind from its coiffure and stream out behind her like a banner. She looked at him over her shoulder, her smile competing with the sun’s brilliance.

Esmeralda slowed as they neared their destination, allowing Damien to pull up alongside her. “It’s so quiet here,” she said as he helped her dismount. Holding the basket in one hand and a saddle blanket in the other, he led her through the trees toward the little pond he so loved.

“This is my favorite place,” he told her, spreading the blanket on the ground. “My brothers and I used to play here when we were boys. No one comes here but me these days.”

Esmeralda turned slowly, taking in the small little glen that had once seemed so big to three little boys. She sat on the saddle blanket beside Damien as he opened the basket.  “I don’t know about you, but I am starving,” he said, revealing the small feast prepared by the cook. Doris had provided meats, bread and cheeses for sandwiches, an assortment of fruit, a bottle of white wine and tiny lemon tartlets for desert. Damien poured the wine into the goblets and handed one to Esmeralda. They sat mostly in silence, enjoying the privacy and serenity beside the pond, disturbed only by an occasional breeze.

Damien sat back and allowed Esmeralda to prepare the sandwiches and portion out the fruit, surprisingly content watching her perform the domestic task. He found himself daydreaming about nights in front of the fire, with her pouring his brandy. The thought pleased him more than he would have imagined.

Once they were full, he repacked the basket and walked toward the pond. “How about a swim?” he said, bending down dip his hands in the cool water. “The water might be a bit cold, but we’ll adjust.”

Esmeralda looked around self-consciously. “What if someone comes?” 

“Trust me,” he said, removing his shirt with one swift motion. “Everyone is listening to my father’s stories of his tournament days over partridge pie as we speak. Besides, I can assure you that we are quite alone here. The trees provide added privacy in case someone should ride close by.”

Esmeralda’s eyes were locked on Damien’s bare torso. He bent to remove his boots, but left on his breeches for the sake of her modesty.

“Are you coming?”

Esmeralda nodded, tearing her eyes away and turning her back. Damien was already swimming around in slow circles
by the time s
he made her way into the water, trying modestly to cover her nearly naked frame. She dipped her head under the water and lay back to float languidly on the surface, allowing the sun to warm her.

Her body made contact with something solid and hard, and suddenly, she found herself tangled in another pair of arms and legs. She thrashed wildly, trying to break the surface, her lungs stinging from the breath she was holding. Damien’s strong hands grasped her by the arms and brought her swiftly to the surface. Coughing and sputtering, she clung to him until she was able to breathe normally.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” he said, brushing long strands of sopping wet hair out of her face. She swiped her hands over her eyes. “It was my fault, I wasn‘t paying attention.”

The smile faded from her face when her eyes met his
. T
here was nothing humorous about the way he was looking at her. Hunger flashed in his eyes
. H
e moved them over her as if devouring her slowly. Inch by inch he studied her, and she became all too aware that the thin, wet chemise did nothing for her modesty. His hold on her arms slackened, then moved up and down in a slow caress. Damien felt a burning like none he’d ever experienced, unfurling in him. A light pink blush crept over her face and he knew that she had guessed at his thoughts.

Her hair was wet and curling enticingly down her back, a few strands plastered to her face, neck and shoulders. One lock rested alluringly over one breast. Tiny droplets of water had formed on her bare skin and a few trickled in tiny rivulets down into the valley between her breasts. Damien’s tongue crept out to wet his lips and an undeniable urge to lap up the tiny drops overwhelmed him.

His hands still on her shoulders, because he didn’t trust himself to put them anywhere else, he pulled her slightly closer and kissed her. Accustomed to his touch now, she parted her lips for him immediately and met his tongue with hers. He groaned and sank fully into her, resting his hard male body against her lush curves. She tangled her hands in his wet curls and drank hungrily from his lips.

She trusted him fully now, unafraid of the riot of sensation overtaking her body.
Esmeralda
gave herself up to him completely, tilting her head back to allow him to plunder her mouth. They could feel every inch of each other through the thin, wet fabric they wore. She felt that male part of him rising and hardening against her belly.
Esmeralda
was not disgusted or disturbed by it, as she had thought she would be. Instead, something wild and primitive welled up inside her and she knew she wanted him, knew she would accept that hard length that pressed against her.

His hands moved down her shoulders and the small of her back before he grasped her bottom firmly in his hands. He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist, pressing his most intimate place against hers.

He walked slowly, his lips still connected to hers, carrying her to a sunny spot on the warm grass.
Damien
laid her there and came down on top of her, his hips sinking into hers. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at her, awed at the unwitting seduction that radiated from her, beckoning to him. She was the most tempting sight he’d ever seen. Her rapid breaths caused her upturned breasts to heave and for the first time, Damien realized he could see the outline of her dark brown nipples through her soaked chemise.

The roaring in his ears increased until he could think of nothing more than taking one of those inviting breasts into his mouth. He lowered his head to hers once more, stealing her very breath away. She arched her back, causing her legs to spread wider, pressing her even more thoroughly against him. Damien snatched at the hem of her chemise, pulling it up over her hips. His hand reached between them and found her heated, moist center. She moaned softly, a silky sound from the back of her throat that reached out at Damien like a caress.

Damien massaged her gently, his lips never ceasing their assault on hers. He parted her velvety folds, finding her most sensitive place and teased it gently with his fingers. She moaned and thrashed beneath him, grasping his shoulders tightly, welcoming the ripples of pleasure he created in her. He inserted two fingers into her tight, pulsating sheath, relishing every cry of pleasure he forced from her lips.
Damien
stroked and
tormented
, watching the pleasure build up in her as she climbed toward ecstasy. Her eyes widened and a sound that could only be described as a scream was torn from her lips as wave after wave of intense pleasure rippled over her.

He watched, delighted at the passionate woman who lay beneath him. She had pleased him, though he had taken no pleasure for himself. He was still hard and burning for her, but he fought to bring himself under control. Now was not the time to make Esmeralda his. He lowered her chemise over her hips and reluctantly pulled away from her. She wrapped her arms around her knees and sat staring at him for a moment.

“That was….” she grinned. “Not what I expected.”

Damien laughed. “It was exactly what I expected. I always wondered what your face would look like when overtaken by passion. I was not disappointed.”

“Shouldn’t I….do something…for you?” she indicated the bulge at the front of his breeches. She seemed embarrassed, but earnest in her question. Damien’s smile widened even more.

“Not here, not like this,” he said, reaching for his shirt. “This was not my intention in bringing you out here. I wanted a moment away with you.
W
hen I do finally make love to you, it will not be on the ground like an animal. I will lay you on my bed and take my time. I will learn all there is to know about you and teach you everything there is to know about me.”