The Fire and the Sword (Men of Blood Book 2)

by Rosamund Winchester

  “So, you finally come back to me,” Elric murmured, his voice drawing her from the haze that lingered. She focused on his chin, urging her eyes to clear entirely. She missed his face, missed him. Finally, she could see a fine layer of dark hair along his chin and neck. When she followed the line of his jaw, she watched the Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.

  “You must be thirsty,” he declared, leaning to the right to retrieve something. “Come, let me help you.” Elric slipped one arm under her shoulders, lifting her just enough, and his other hand gently pressed the rim of a cup to her parched lips. Slowly, he tipped the cup and cool, refreshing water slid down her throat.

  She groaned, she couldn’t help it. The water was Heaven.

  Having taken enough water, she tried to pull away, raising her trembling hand to wipe at her mouth.

  “Let me,” Elric murmured, a heaviness to his tone. He put the cup back and then took a square of cloth to dab at her lips and chin. Again, she tried pulling away, averting his touch even as she craved it. “No sense in fighting me, Kitten. I always get my way.”

  She growled. Elric chuckled, the rumble seeming to reach down into her womanhood and squeeze. Her breath caught at the sensation.

  “Stop calling me kitten,” she eked out, her voice raspy.

  He chuckled again, turning her face so she was looking at him. Beyond the unshaven jaw were eyes so dark and encompassing, she nearly whimpered with the power therein. Beneath his eyes, twin dark circles marred his handsomeness. Non. Nothing could do that. If anything, the circles were evidence that he had gotten little rest, which meant that she hadn’t dreamed Glenn issuing a command for Elric to get some rest.

  “How long have I been here?” she asked, her voice still raspy but a little more herself.

  “Three days,” he answered. “Your health began failing just as we arrived. If Bell Heather had not tended to you in time…” His voice broke, which made Minnette return her gaze to his face. For the first time, she noticed deep lines around his mouth, as if he’d spent the last three days scowling. And the lines beside his eyes spread outward, like the wings of a hawk. He was exhausted, but instead of tending to his own needs, he was there, kneeling beside her sick bed, wiping water from her face.

  Tears stung her eyes.

  “Why are you still here?” she whispered, her heart tripping in her chest.

  He tipped his head, his brow furrowing. “What do you mean? Where else would I be?”

  Where else, indeed? “You need not be here,” she replied in French, her mind too jumbled to focus on the English translation. “I am a burden you could have left behind.”

  There was a curse then Elric was there, both of his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She could feel his heart, pounding but strong. She trembled against him, her tears wanting to come but she didn’t have the strength to let them loose. She only sat there, in his embrace, letting the heat of his body pour into her, pushing out every fear, every concern, every ounce of uncertainty. It was a moment of bliss.

  “Minnette, darling, I would never leave you, do you not know that? Can you not understand what I feel for you, my ferocious kitten?” She wanted to hiss at him for calling her his kitten once again, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t hate this, this feeling of being right where she belonged. And his admission, what could it mean? Certainly, he didn’t mean that he had true feelings for her.

  Of course not! He is only speaking thus because he thought you were dying. Once you are well, he will never look at you again. Though it tore at her to do so, she chose to ignore his well-meaning if false words of affection.

  “Elric, what happened to me?” She remembered being slashed by Stringer’s blade, the ride back toward Bridgerdon, and then seeing the walls in the distance, and then…nothing.

  “Once you fell unconscious, Bell Heather brewed willow bark tea and I helped her get it down your throat. There was something in the tea that was supposed to help break your fever. It did not work at first.” Again, there was a catch in his voice. And in her current position, her cheek nuzzled under his chin, next to his heart, she could hear it thudding erratically. “She mended your arm, sewing the wound shut and bandaging it with a poultice that would pull out the infection. She said it would take some time, but you were pale. I did not know what would come of you. What would come of me.” His arms around her tightened.

  “Elric?” she murmured, suddenly concerned for him. She lifted a hand, pressing it against the roughness of his cheek. The coarse hairs tickled her palm.

  Minnette’s heart stuttered to a stop as Elric’s gaze slammed into her, their golden depths rimmed with black. She saw such pain there, such agony that her breath caught.

  “Elric?”

  “I cannot live without you,” he uttered, just before slamming his lips down on hers with a growl. It was a delicious and utterly decadent sensation, his hard lips demanding yet coaxing. His mouth lit her on fire, burning her alive with a desire unmatched.

  Flames danced along her skin, and she slid her hands up the hardness of his chest to his neck, where she twined her fingers together around his head. The silkiness of his hair curled over her hand, and the sensation sent chills down her arms. Her breath hitched, and Elric took that opportunity to thrust his hot tongue into her mouth, an invader she welcomed with a hunger she had never known before. He deepened the kiss, tasting her as if she were the finest wine, and she tasted him in return, a heady mix of spicy and savory.

  Her body was weightless as Elric pulled her into him, his arms around her making her back curve, which crushed her breasts against his chest. Her erect nipples brushed against him, sending bolts of delirious pleasure through her. She groaned, and Elric swallowed the sound, driving his tongue further, sliding it over hers in a dance she didn’t know but learned quickly. She took her turn, pulling his head down to her. She slanted her own head to allow for better access to the man she couldn’t get enough of.

  This must be a dream. But the pleasure of this kiss, in this moment, far exceeded anything her fantasies could conjure.

  Even as the thought occurred, Elric’s hand began its slow ascent up her waist, leaving a burning trail of need over her skin. The thin tunic she wore did nothing to withstand the heat of his caress as he rubbed the underside of one breast with his thumb. She shuddered, moaning into his kiss.

  A pulse centered between her thighs made her squeeze her legs together for relief, but her movements did nothing but slide the fabric of the tunic along her womanhood, teasing the swollen lips of her sex.

  She broke the kiss to gasp, closing her eyes in an attempt to will her body back under her control.

  “Kitten,” Elric rasped, his voice thick. “I will never get enough of you.” Crushing her against him, he kissed her once again, ravaging her mouth with a kiss that barely satiated the need of him that scorched through her blood. She was a living, breathing wildfire, out of control and immolating all it touched.

  She was consumed.

  But then he was pushing her away, his hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length as he dragged in heavy breaths.

  “We should not have done that,” he said huskily.

  Shame stole her breath, the heat of her humiliation rising up her neck and over her face. She swallowed down a whimper. When would she learn? Elric would never want her, not really. He was simply taking favors while he could. He did not intend to make more of it. How could he? She was the niece of his most hated enemy.

  Turning her face away, she forced out, “As you say.”

  “No,” Elric ground out, reaching to take her chin in his hand and turning her back toward him. “It is not that I did not want to kiss you. God, I want to kiss you more than I want to breathe, but now is not the right time. You have only just awoken from being unconscious for three days. Believe it or not, you need rest, real rest, not a beast devouring you.”

  Minnette was stunned by his words. He was concerned for her? That
was why he’d stopped their kiss? Warmth filled her again. This time, it wasn’t about humiliation, it was suspiciously like tenderness.

  She cared about him, and it was obvious from his concern for her that he cared about her. At least a little. But was that enough? She wasn’t naïve. She knew men like Elric slaked their lusts wherever there was a willing bedmate. So would it really be so difficult for him to slake his lusts with her? Minnette didn’t let the prickling of self-doubt stop her trail of thought. She was a beautiful woman and she could offer him what he needed. What would it be like to give herself to him, to follow their amazing kiss to its natural conclusion? Perhaps she could find that kind of pleasure with Elric, even just once.

  And what then? Will you remain a soiled dove, unmarried and lonely? Do you not wish for a husband, to be a mother, to know what it feels like to be truly loved? Oui, of course she wanted those things. What woman didn’t? Her forced betrothal had soured her desire for marriage, but it hadn’t completely destroyed it. Certainly, if she found a kind, gentle, honest man who was willing to provide for her, she could marry him. Bear him children. Find a semblance of happiness before she died.

  But what of now? This moment? This promise of fleeting pleasure? Take it! For tomorrow was not promised, not with a killer hungry for her head on a platter.

  Oui! Take what you want. Her gaze flitted up to Elric’s. He was gazing at her with a mix of concern and banked desire in his eyes. Yes. He would be the one.

  “Elric,” she began, licking her lips, “will you return to me when I am well?”

  Something within his eyes sharpened, a question flaring in their depths.

  “What are you saying?” he asked, his deep voice strung tight.

  She did not look away from him. She knew that this was her one chance, perhaps her only chance, to know the kind of bliss she only imagined in her fantasies. What would the reality feel like?

  “When Bell Heather has judged me well enough, I—” She took a deep breath and dove right in, “I want you to make love to me.”

  It was as though all the air was sucked from the room. He stared at her, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it.

  That previous prickling of self-doubt returned, this time as a flood of needles, piercing the remains of her confidence.

  “I—I am sorry. If that is not—”

  “Do you mean it?” he interrupted her. She shuddered at the shocking need in his tone.

  He truly wanted her?

  “Yes, I would not offer otherwise,” she replied, her heart lurching at the promise in his expression, the angles and planes of his face tightening with purpose.

  “Be sure, Kitten, for when I take you, I will make you mine, and there will be no other man after me.” A wild possessiveness snapped in his eyes.

  She gasped, her heart hammering in her ears. What did he mean, no other man after him? She had no time to dwell on that because he was looking at her with an intensity she could not ignore.

  “I am sure.” The words tumbled from her lips.

  Elric stroked her cheek with his thumb, slowly, gently, raising gooseflesh over her skin and making her nipples ache.

  “Then yes,” he drawled thickly. “I will make love to you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Stringer tore into the deer meat, the undercooked flesh just the right amount of tender and bloody. Usually, deer was his favorite meal, devouring the flesh of an animal he’d stalked and killed with his own hands. Always, he would shoot the deer from a distance using his bow, but he would only ever wound the deer enough to slow it down. He would hunt it, following the trail of blood until the deer collapsed from blood loss. Then, he would kneel beside the terrified animal, its brown eyes wide, its chest rising and falling in great gasps, and wait for it to lower its proud head in defeat.

  He would slit its throat then, watching the blood pour from its neck and stain the ground with bright red.

  A wound. The incessant voice had died down, the one that reminded him of why his side ached and why he was, even now, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead.

  It smelled. A scent he was accustomed to. A stench he had often associated with other, lesser beings. The miasma of the pussy opening in his side filled the air around him, making the night reek of decay. He groaned, the heat scorching his insides spread out further, engulfing his very bones in the flames.

  He shuddered in spite of the blaze, inside him and before him.

  A wound. A wound. Like a deer gutted. Like the deer he’d gutted.

  Aye, his own kills were delicious and best when fresh. But now, he tasted nothing.

  He glanced at Digger grazing just on the other side of the fire, his white nose nuzzling the thick grass as if it were lacking something.

  “I know, my friend.” And didn’t he. In the last five days, nothing tasted good, everything he put into his mouth was bland, like placing scraps of linen on his tongue. Everywhere he looked, the world had lost color. The greens had paled to grays, the once vibrant reds, his favorite color, dulled to sickly pinks. Dull, bland, flavorless, lifeless—nothing felt right.

  And it was all that woman’s fault!

  No! The knight’s. The wound—

  No! Impossible. No wound. There was no wound.

  It was the woman’s fault. How dare she give him a taste of something delicious and then deny him the full feast! He could still remember the shrillness of her screams and the tension in her body as she held herself still as he faced down that interloping knight. Aye, Sir Elric was part of the reason Stringer had lost his quarry, but Elric wasn’t the one Stringer wanted. It was the woman, Minnette Calleaux, niece to the man who’d given him such favor by choosing him to dispatch her. No, the cardinal hadn’t told Stringer why he wanted her dead, but he was a man of the cloth. His purposes must be ordained, holy, meant to bring God glory.

  And so Stringer would be the one to deliver that glory. And then he would continue along that vein, taking lives in the name of the Lord, because it was the right thing to do.

  “He is evil. Look at him, can ye not see the darkness there?” Horrible words from long past danced along his back, raising the hairs on his neck. “Kill him, Master Cyril. Prove to me that you truly seek my favor.” Phantom flames licked at the skin of his legs, searing the muscles and lean fat before climbing to his belly and engulfing his arms and chest. Finally, it tore at his face, gnawing at the flesh of his cheeks, the stench as unbearable as the pain.

  The snap of a stick brought him back from his living nightmare.

  There was someone or something in the woods outside the circle of light cast by the small campfire.

  Since Minnette and Sir Elric returned to Bridgerdon, Lord Harrington’s son, Sir Tristin, had tripled the number of guards patrolling the castle grounds. Some of the patrols marched out, several miles, past the castle walls, no doubt seeking signs of his presence.

  They wouldn’t find any. The only reason he’d made a fire tonight was because he was five miles from the castle, moving outside of the patrol area to reconnoiter and get his bearings before he attempted to break through the lines and get to his Minnette.

  If there was a patrol out this far, that meant they were getting desperate to find him. Elric knew he was there, could probably feel the threat in his bones. So he wouldn’t rest lightly until Stringer was dead.

  A sneer pulled the mutilated muscles in his cheeks.

  Holding his breath, he listened for the telltale sounds of footfalls where no living night creature should be wearing boots. For long moments, only the sounds of the nighttime forest could be heard, but then—there!—the sounds of rustling as feet moved along the ground, coming closer to his encampment.

  Oh, they picked the wrong night to discover him. He knew from observing that the guards patrolled in twos, which meant there couldn’t be more than two of them. The odds were in his favor then, because he was used to becoming as the darkness and using the cover of the blackness to prey on others. It was a
gift.

  Slowly, he rose to his feet. He wondered how close they were, if they had laid eyes on him yet. If not, he could crawl into the dense brush and wait for them to move by his hiding spot. Another snap of a stick and he was up, sliding into the brush as if he were part of it.

  Using the light of the campfire to watch for the advance of the intruders, he waited, his breath lodged in his throat. And then a figure appeared in the glow of the campfire, standing proud and beautiful.

  “Minnette?” he whispered, unable to believe his eyes. Why was she there? And where was her knight? He blinked but the vision remained. She was staring right at him, as though she could see through the gloom. She smiled.

  He moved toward her, still unsure of her motives for being there but he couldn’t pass up the chance to take what he wanted, her precious blood. Her smile grew as he drew closer.

  As he gazed upon her, she raised one hand to him, her palm facing skyward and her fingers curled. She beckoned to him silently, asking him to come to her. Her eyes glittered with excitement at what was to come. And she knew what was coming, she knew she would find death at his hands, but she couldn’t deny either of them. She wanted it, too.

  Her lips quirked as he stepped before the fire, only a few feet from her.

  She wants this, too. She wants my blade to sink into her flesh and part muscle from bone.

  Stringer sighed, joy he had never thought to experience coursing through him. He lifted his hand to take hers.

  She disappeared as a wisp of smoke, joining the other drafts as they coiled around him before dissipating into the night air.

  Elric rolled his shoulders, the stiffness at the base of his neck making focusing difficult.

  “They have found no sign of him, Commander, but they will continue looking,” Leon said, weariness etched into his face. As the eldest of them, Leon needed the most rest and the fewest worries. But as the priest among them, he was also privy to their most trying thoughts and temptations. It wore on him. Elric could tell. He knew that the others depended on Leon to provide them prayer and counsel, but that didn’t mean he had to add to the man’s problems.