The Third Son (24 page)

The music ended and Damien didn’t want to let Esmeralda out of his grasp. She gazed boldly into his eyes, silently,
and Damien discerned the direction of her thoughts.
. She was still too inexperienced, too shy, to tell him with words what she wanted
but he knew
. They stood for several moments, the gentle hum of laughter and chatter surrounding them. It was cold; neither of them noticed.

“I am ready to leave,” she said finally.

Damien paused for a moment, studying her intently. Her eyes were golden liquid pools of yearning, beckoning to him, drawing him in. “Are you certain?” he asked, praying fervently that she was, but knowing he had to allow her the opportunity to withdraw. She nodded slowly, her eyes never wavering from his. She seemed sure, resolute and it was all Damien needed to know. He grasped her hand tightly and led her to where Persephone was tethered to a tree nearby. Wordlessly, he swung up into the saddle and pulled her up before him. They rode toward the palace in silence.

****

They stood face to face before the fireplace, silently. Neither knew quite what to say, though words hung on the air between them unsaid. Esmeralda admired the chiseled planes of his face, further enhanced by the flickering light of the fire. He had removed his coat and stood with his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow and the top three buttons undone. She placed her hand on his chest, absorbing the heat of him into her palm. He covered her hand with his, pressing it more close
ly against his pounding heart.

“See what you do to me?” he murmured before leaning down to kiss her. It was true. No woman had ever caused him to feel so undone. He had always gone about love-making strategically, assessing every woman carefully and planning his assault upon her body deliberately. Now he realized that he had never truly made love to any woman. He did not know where to begin, for he wanted all of her and he wanted it all at once. 

He decided to start with her mouth, which was open and ready for him as he lowered his head to claim a kiss. He held her hand against his chest and kissed her thoroughly. At first he was gentle, brushing his lips back and forth over hers. He eased her lips apart gently, his tongue gliding over hers so slowly, so achingly that she thought she would die from the thrill of it. He nibbled at her lower lip with his teeth playfully, tasting the spiced wine she had sipped before the campfire. His fingers came up to thread through her hair, and the ardor of his kiss increased. He slanted her head slightly, taking full advantage of the offerings of her lips.

She was dizzy, leaning against him for support as she returned kiss for kiss, feeling the urgency build up inside of her as she knew it was building in him. She swayed against him, grateful for the strong arms that came around her, for without them she would surely fall. He stepped back abruptly, holding her at arm’s length for a moment to catch his breath.

“I want to see you. All of you.” He loosed the first button at the front of her blouse. His touch against her breasts was feather-light as he undid the rest of the buttons unhurriedly. The blouse fluttered to the floor, forgotten as he skimmed his hands up her bare arms toward the straps of her plain linen shift. “When I make you my wife, only silks and satins will touch your body,” he said, his mouth pressed to her ear. He slid the straps of the shift from her shoulders slowly, peeling the material away from her breasts, leaving the shift at her waist for now.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her until her feet dangled inches from the floor. Her breasts were mere inches from his face, which is what he had intended. 

Esmeralda moaned at the first touch of his tongue against her aching breast. She arched her back, grasping his shoulders tightly as he gently suckled at first one, then the other. He traced slow circles around her nipple with his tongue, causing her to shudder and quake against him. 

“I love the way you taste,” he murmured against her breasts, his mouth moving slowly back and forth from one peak to the other.

Esmeralda nearly swooned at the sensations he was creating within her. Never had she imagined that such pleasure was possible, and he had only just begun. He lowered her slowly back to her feet, his fingers finding the fastening of her skirt. 

She felt the slight grip of panic in her chest as he began to lower the skirt and shift over her hips. No man had ever seen her naked, and she had vowed long ago to never allow a man to have her in so vulnerable a position. But her fears were immediately banished when she stood completely naked before Damien. His eyes darkened, fairly smoldering with desire as he took all of her in. She stood before him unashamed and excited at the affect she was having on him

“Beautiful,” he sighed as his eyes traveled over her form. She was just as he had imagined her, just as he had seen her in his mind so many times before.

“I want to see you too,” she said suddenly, surprised by her boldness but not contrite. Damien nodded and reached for the buttons of his shirt, but she stopped him.

“Let me,” she said, reaching for the buttons herself. Her hands trembled slightly, but she steadied them and undid each button until she had completely bared Damien’s torso. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and ran her hands over his smooth, flat chest. His breathing grew harsher and his eyes slid closed as she explored him slowly, tracing the ripples and bulges of his chest and abdomen. 

“You are beautiful too,” she whispered, bowing her head to place a kiss against his chest. Damien jerked, nearly unmanned by the searing pleasure that shot through him at the touch of her lips against him. Her hair fell forward to brush against his tingling skin as she moved her lips over him, tasting him tentatively with her tongue.

“Men are not beautiful,” he said, grasping her upper arms tightly, his body shuddering uncontrollably. She did not know what she was doing to him, and he prayed she wouldn’t stop. 

“And yet you are,” she replied, moving her fingers town to the waistband of his trousers. She unbuttoned the pants, and lowered them to his feet. He stood naked before her, as vulnerable as she, allowing her to look her fill. Her eyes were fixed on his shaft, which stood full and thick, a testimony to his rampant desire.

“I am not afraid,” she said, though her eyes told him otherwise. He took her in his arms and carried her to the bed. He lay her down and came down beside her.

“The past no longer matters,” he said to her between gentle kisses. “There is only the future and us together.”

“Yes,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down over her.

He explored her body, first with his hands, cupping and kneading her breasts, running his fingertips lightly over her belly. He followed his hands with his mouth, tasting every available inch of her, determined to teach her body a woman’s pleasure. She sighed and moaned under him, urging him on. She whispered his name over and over, and her impassioned cries echoed from the walls of his chambers.

He loved her slowly, taking his time, though he wanted to plunge into her and find his own satisfaction. This night was important, and he knew that he had his entire life to show her the many other ways he could love her. But tonight, this night, he would take his time and fulfill his vow to banish to ghosts of the past from her heart and mind. 

When he could stand it no longer, he came up on top of her, resting his hips between her open thighs. He felt her moist, slick heat even as he paused at her entrance, poised to enter her. He looked down into her face, watching her, wanting to see her expression when he finally came inside of her. He pushed forward slowly, pressing into her inch by precious inch. She lifted her hips to meet his, sheathing him completely inside of her. His groan met her surprised gasp of pleasure, as he withdrew and slowly thrust forward again. Damien grasped her hips and lifted her to meet his slow, precise thrusts. He buried his face in her shoulder, every muscle in his body taut and straining as he moved within her.

Esmeralda had never known such pleasure. She grasped Damien’s shoulders tightly and moved her hips instinctively to match his rhythm.  She did not understand how her body knew how to respond to his, but Damien’s reaction told her that she was doing something right. She had known that being with him would be wonderful, but her mind had been unable to comprehend the magnitude of what she was feeling in that moment. She closed her eyes as the pleasure built inside of her, welling up until she was nearly overflowing with it. The cries echoing through the chamber were wanton and wild, and though she knew they were her own, she did not care. She surrendered fully to the sensations humming inside of her, knowing that she would surely die once they had overcome her.

Damien moved more swiftly, increasing the rhythm of their loving as he felt his own culmination was nearing. He knew the moment she reached her climax and knew that his was only moments away. She trembled and quaked, her tight sheath pulsating around him, drawing the very essence of his seed deep within her womb.

He gathered her against him, waiting for his pounding heart to slow, and his breathing to return to normal. She lay in silence in his arms, softly caressing his curls which were now damp with perspiration.

“I never imagined,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “I never knew it could be that way.”

Damien lifted his head. “Neither did I,” he said honestly. He had set out to teach her about love making and instead had learned something new himself. Nothing he’d ever experienced had even come close. “You are mine now, body and soul,” he said possessively, tightening his arms around her.

“Yes, I am,” she said with a yawn. She was asleep in moments.

Damien lay awake for another hour, watching her sleep. He stroked her hair and smiled. Esmeralda had given herself completely and fully to him, and he had done the same in return. His heart rejoiced.

Tristan paced like a
cornered beast
, his hands clenched tightly behind his back. The hour was late, but he could not sleep. His dreams had tormented him, his mind had replayed the vision of Esmeralda smiling and dancing in Prince Damien’s arms at the Gypsy camp. He had left not too long after they had, his heart in tatters. 

He had been patient, he had waited and it had gained him nothing. Esmeralda would marry the prince. She would be carried away to live in a palace and he would probably never see her again.
I
f he did, he would have to suffer, watching Esmeralda beside her husband, gazing upon him with adoring eyes. Someday she may even give birth to his children. It was too much to bear.

“Tristan, can’t you sleep?”

Tristan winced inwardly, angry with himself for waking Morgana. She had left the party with him after he had asked- no, demanded- that she accompany him. She had mistaken his anger at Esmeralda for desire and had lain beneath him screaming in ecstasy as he had pounded her into the mattress. He had left her sleeping and now stood, shirtless before the waning fire. She stood in the doorway of his bedroom, naked. Tristan sighed. Much to his chagrin, he found his body responding to the sight of Morgana’s naked form.

“Why don’t you come let me put you to bed?” she said over her shoulder as she sashayed back into the bedroom. Tristan ran his hand over his face tiredly. He had
not
been able to rid himself of Esmeralda’s cousin and almost regretted taking her to bed at all. The girl fancied herself in love with him and though Tristan had never hinted that he returned the sentiment, she assumed that he felt the same as she. Though he found pleasure in her body, he found he could hardly abide her when morning came. No matter how callously he treated her, she fawned over him constantly, following him nearly everywhere he went. He hoped that her affection for him would wane soon, although he would be loath to give up her company in bed.

“Tristan aren’t you coming?” she whined. Tristan sighed, turning toward the bedroom. Morgana sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes shining brightly, waiting for him. He grasped a fistful of her hair in his hand and pulled her head back roughly, staring down into her dark brown eyes. She moaned when he grabbed her breast roughly, painfully. Stupid girl, he thought, squeezing harder, taking great pleasure in inflicting pain upon her, though she seemed to enjoy it. How could she ever think to take the place of Esmeralda in his heart? As he lowered himself over her and drove into her, he vowed to find a way to make Esmeralda his.

****

Esmeralda stood behind Isabelle, watching the princess as she studied her form critically in the full-length mirror. She looked like an angel, Esmeralda thought, enveloped in white satin and lace, her white-blonde hair loose and flowing around her shoulders. Esmeralda helped Isabelle’s maid fasten the sheer veil over Isabelle’s hair and lower it into place until it swept the floor behind her.

“You look stunning,” Esmeralda said, standing back to admire the bride. “Lionus will have a hard time keeping his composure.”

“That’s the idea,” Isabelle said with a giggle, turning to face Esmeralda. “Oh, thank you so much for standing up with me. I know we haven’t known each other very long but I feel as if I’ve known you my whole life.”

Esmeralda clasped Isabelle’s outstretched hands and held them tightly. “I feel the same way. I am honored to stand beside you today.”