The sultry eagerness of Ariane’s body drew forth a single hot pulse of response from Simon. He eased his way even more deeply into her, until he was locked within her, fully sheathed, more perfectly coupled with a woman than he had ever been in his life.
Ariane whimpered and clenched around Simon so tightly that he could barely breathe for the pleasure she gave him. The sensation of being held within a sleek, loving vise was extraordinary.
Suddenly Simon remembered what Ariane had said the first time she had held his naked, aroused flesh in her hands.
I am afraid of this. ’Tis made to tear a woman apart.
“Nightingale,” Simon said hoarsely. “Am I hurting you?”
When Ariane opened her mouth to answer, all that came out was another of the odd, broken cries that had alarmed Simon.
Sweat bloomed beneath Simon’s clothes as he fought against his deepest needs. Ariane was so hot around him, so tight, so sleek, she seemed to beg for an even deeper joining.
He knew he should spare her, yet he wanted only to delve more deeply, pushing himself in to the hilt.
Slowly he began to withdraw.
Unable to speak, Ariane clung to Simon, shivering with the violence of her response to being filled so perfectly by him, if only for a few moments.
“Ariane? Is even this too much?”
“Again,” Ariane said finally, raggedly.
As she spoke, her nails scored against Simon’s neck and she locked her legs more tightly about his body, trying to force him back inside her warmth.
Her strength was no match for his. He held her away, wanting to be certain that he wasn’t forcing himself into her tight sheath.
Torn, bloodied.
Simon set his teeth. “Talk to me, nightingale. Tell me what you want.”
“I—I must—have you.”
“Like this?”
Ariane’s breath caught as she felt herself stretched and stretched while Simon slowly penetrated her again. His name splintered on her lips.
“Am I hurting you?” Simon asked, withdrawing.
She shook her head. “Not—like that.”
“You cried out.”
“It was the beauty of—”
“This?”
Simon pressed into Ariane again, watching her eyes, and this time he didn’t stop until they were so completely joined that the silken knot of her passion was drawn tautly against his body.
“Ariane?”
“Dear God, yes. Simon.”
The sound of his name breaking on Ariane’s lips destroyed Simon’s control. His arms closed even more tightly around her, locking her against him while he drove into her again and again, drinking the wild cries that came from her lips.
Ecstasy trembled inside Ariane, then burst, trembled and burst again and again, spilling through her to Simon. He gave it back to her pulse for pulse, caressing her soft depths even as he spent himself within them.
Then he held her, simply held her, until they could breathe without unraveling all over again.
Gradually the sound of the wind and stray lashes of icy rain reminded Simon that he was on the battlements and the sentry might come by at any time.
Reluctantly Simon began to lift Ariane off his body. Her legs locked with surprising strength.
“We must go inside,” Simon said.
Ariane’s only answer was a sleek contraction of her body that made Simon’s breath break.
And hers.
“Stay inside me,” Ariane said against Simon’s lips. “It feels…right.”
“’Tis the same for me.”
Her mouth opened at the first touch of his tongue. For a long time they tasted one another in a hushed silence surrounded by the wind. Finally, unwillingly, Simon lifted his mouth.
“The sentry might come,” he said against Ariane’s lips.
“The sentry?”
“Aye.”
Ariane turned to see if the sentry were close. The twisting motion of her body had a breathtaking effect on Simon.
“He is coming,” Ariane whispered, turning back.
“We have a choice.”
“Aye?”
“I can put you down and we can try to set our clothes aright before he notices.”
“He is very close.”
“Aye.” Simon smiled rather fiercely. “Hold tightly to me, nightingale.”
Before Ariane could ask what Simon meant, he was descending the stair. The sensations that came as he moved dragged a ragged, low moan from her. With a broken sound she clung to Simon, using every newly discovered muscle of her body.
When the spiraling staircase had turned enough to shield them from the sentry, Simon stopped.
“You can let go, now,” he said.
Ariane shook her head and burrowed even closer to him.
Beneath the mantle, Simon’s hand shifted until he could stroke the very petals that were stretched so tightly around him.
Ariane’s eyes widened. She gasped at the sensations radiating through her from his probing fingertips. The gasp quickly became a moan. Ecstasy cascaded through her, sending a silky heat spilling over him.
“You are delicious,” Simon said huskily, plucking at the sleek knot he had discovered rising from Ariane’s softness. “I could take you again right now, right here, with all the people of the keep trooping by in a row. And you would let me, wouldn’t you? God’s teeth, you would beg me!”
“S-Simon,” Ariane said brokenly, “what are you doing to me?”
“Does it hurt?”
“Nay, but—oh!”
Ariane’s words were squeezed into silence as ecstasy’s vise closed around her. Simon caressed her slowly, watching her, smiling as her heat blossomed once more between their bodies. While she convulsed gently around him, he lifted her until they were separate, then resettled her legs around his hips.
“Hold on to me,” he said.
When Ariane obeyed, Simon had to bite back a groan. The feel of her lush softness pressed against his open breeches made his blood hot all over again.
He took the stairs swiftly and strode down the hall until he came to Ariane’s bedchamber. The door was standing open. He kicked it closed behind them. The draft from their entrance made lamp flames stretch and sway. The fire in the brazier was little more than embers veiled in ash.
“’Tis nearly as cold here as above,” Simon said. “But it doesn’t matter. The only fire I need is between your thighs. Unfasten my mantle, nightingale.”
Ariane struggled with the big silver brooch that fastened Simon’s mantle at his left shoulder. While she worked, Simon’s mouth moved over her hands, nibbling, biting, licking, his tongue probing deeply between her fingers.
The sensual promise of the caresses speeded Ariane’s heartbeat, but not as much as the smoldering hunger in Simon’s eyes when he saw that her hands trembled.
“Are you afraid?” he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to savor it from Ariane’s lips.
“Nay. ’Tis just that you…unsettle me.”
The breathless admission made Simon smile darkly.
“’Tis done,” Ariane said, finally freeing the mantle.
“Nay, my lady. ’Tis only begun.”
Simon threw his mantle onto the bed. The white fur lining gleamed like silver in the shimmering lamplight. He lowered Ariane into the midst of it and swept her hair up over her head.
Her breasts were bared by the unlaced bodice and her skirts were well above her waist. Nothing of her femininity was concealed from Simon’s eyes. He looked at her with a smoldering intensity that made Ariane’s whole body flush with embarrassment.
And then Ariane didn’t care about her nakedness, for Simon was equally revealed, standing proud and hard through the opening in his breeches. With a smile as old as Eve, Ariane reached out and delicately traced his erect flesh with her fingertips.
Simon’s answering smile was hot and utterly male. Impatiently he took off his broadsword and set it aside while Ariane’s slender fing
ers teased him from tip to base and back again.
“You are magnificent, my lord,” Ariane whispered.
Fire ignited at her words, drawing Simon even tighter, fuller, his life’s blood coursing visibly beneath her fingertips. He shuddered at the certainty of his own potency like a torrent pouring through him.
“You have bewitched my body,” Simon said huskily. “No woman has ever aroused me as completely as you do. I have just taken you and I must have you again.”
“I am here.”
Leaning forward, Ariane touched the tip of her tongue to him, stealing the sultry drop that she had summoned from the depths of Simon’s need.
“You taste as the sun must taste,” she whispered. “Burning.”
“I taste like you. You are the fire burning me.”
“’Tis you, Simon.” Ariane’s tongue touched him again. “You are my sun. Before you there was only darkness.”
Simon groaned and fought to subdue the urgency that was raking through him with sweet talons. When he could breathe again, he bent and slid one hand from Ariane’s ankles to the midnight triangle just above her thighs.
Her breath caught at the intensity in his look. “Simon?”
“Give me leave, my lady.”
Slowly Ariane shifted her legs until there was no barrier to Simon’s touch. He knelt between her legs. Gently his fingers parted her until he could trace the flushed, sensitive folds. Her breath broke and he knew again the sultry rain of her pleasure.
“You are more sensual than I hoped,” Simon whispered, “hotter even than my dreams.”
Two fingers probed, parted, then slid deeply into Ariane, stretching her. She gasped and felt pleasure surge sharply through her, spilling onto his hand.
“You’re inside me,” Ariane said, torn between surprise and desire. “Touching me.”
Simon inhaled sharply. The heady spice of her response infused the very air he breathed, arousing him even more in turn.
“You hold back nothing,” he said huskily, “hide nothing, give everything.”
Simon felt his control unraveling, but he no longer cared. Ariane was trembling with forerunners of ecstasy, her every breath broken and as hot as the pulses his touch drew from her. The sultry, tangible proof that he wasn’t caught alone in the sensual storm made it impossible for Simon to hold back any longer.
“Next time,” he said as he slid his hands beneath Ariane’s knees, “next time I will undress you and know you fully awake as I have known you in my dreams.”
Simon caressed Ariane’s legs, parting them even more.
“Next time,” he said, “I will kiss you until you are silk and fire beneath my mouth and I can taste the delicious certainty of your ecstasy.”
Ariane’s eyes widened as Simon’s hands shifted smoothly, powerfully, and she found herself suddenly with her legs draped over the crook of his arms, fully opened to him.
“But not this time,” Simon said. “This time I must have you. Now.”
He drove into her, filling her completely.
Ariane gasped at the sunburst of fiery pleasure that blazed deep within her. The hard, complete joining was both overwhelming and exquisite. His name splintered on her lips, reflection of the ecstasy stitching through her body.
“Aye, my wild nightingale. No matter what happened in the past, this is the only truth that matters. You burn for me as no woman ever has.”
Simon began moving fully within Ariane, watching their joined bodies, his whole being focused in the elemental union. Cries rippled from her lips, soft whimpers that spoke of sensuality unleashed, an incandescent truth that was beyond any shadow of lie.
Pleasure drenched her, infusing the very air with heat.
“Yes,” Simon said huskily. “Bathe me in your desire. There is no need to talk of a past rape. No ravished maid could know the sensuous tricks you do.”
Ariane barely heard the words, and even then they had no meaning to her. A muscular thrust of Simon’s body had sent sweet lightning stabbing through her mind, cutting away all possibility of thought. Her being was racked with pleasure as her breath unraveled in a rippling cry.
“Aye, nightingale. Sing to me of fire. I don’t care about the past. I care only about this.”
Simon surged against Ariane, rubbing the sleek nub of her passion between their bodies. He smiled to feel her response, the shudder and the silken burst of heat. He vowed to feel it again and yet again, until he finally knew the depths of her sensuality.
And his own.
Ariane gave up trying to speak, for she no longer knew her own body. A sweet fire was sweeping through her, transforming her. She shivered in wild culmination and clung to the hard warrior who filled her so completely.
The smile Simon gave Ariane was as primitive as the caress of his teeth against her neck, her breasts, her ears. And with each careful bite he drove into her again, rocked against her, fitting himself deeply to her and then deeper still, drinking her cries as fire blazed through her again.
And still he thrust into her, taking her higher, going with her, sweat gleaming on their bodies like the fire that was consuming her, burning her beyond bearing.
Simon bent down, drinking Ariane’s moans even as his powerful, driving body drew more sweet sounds from her.
With a cry Ariane arched up to Simon, her head thrown back, her hair an untamed cloud. He caught her there, held her arched and wild, his body motionless, poised over hers, waiting, shivering with a hunger that was as great as his restraint.
Then Simon felt unspeakable ecstasy ravish Ariane, heard it in her shattered cry. He thrust into her once more and let go all restraint, fusing himself to her with each savage, ecstatic pulse of his release, pouring himself into her until there was no past, no present, no lies, only the truth of a pleasure so great he thought he would die of it.
And it was just beginning.
He was as sure of that as he was of his own strength.
Slowly, tenderly, relentlessly, Simon began to arouse Ariane all over again.
A long time later, in the darkness when even the moon slept, Simon shuddered in the aftermath of an ecstasy so violent that it had left Ariane weeping in his arms, calling his name with each broken breath she took. He kissed her wet eyelashes, pulled her closer, and drew the mantle over both of them.
“Whatever came before this night does not matter,” Simon said against Ariane’s mouth. “But henceforth you will sing your sensual songs only for me, nightingale. Only for me.”
The huskiness of Simon’s voice didn’t hide the steel will beneath it any more than his intense sensuality had concealed the sheer power and discipline of his body.
“I could never bear another man’s touch,” Ariane whispered. “I love you, Simon. ’Tis why I overcame my fear of a man’s strength.”
Simon closed his eyes. “Do not speak of the past again. It can only cause pain.”
“But—”
He kissed Ariane’s lips with great gentleness.
“You are everything I ever dreamed of having in my arms,” Simon whispered against her mouth.
Simon tucked Ariane along his side and surrendered himself to sleep as completely as he had given himself to the shared body of their passion.
Ariane did not sleep as quickly. She lay awake for a long time, her breath catching, her passion spent, her heart aching with all that had been said.
And not said.
I seduced Simon all too well, Ariane thought despairingly. He will accept his unmaidenly wife without complaint, for we burn too well together ever to burn separately again.
But he does not believe me.
He believes Geoffrey.
No wonder Simon doesn’t love me as I love him. He doesn’t trust me.
Numbly Ariane wondered if she would ever escape from the nightmare of the past.
27
“Horsemen!” cried the sentry.
The urgent voice carried into the lord’s solar, for the sentry was right overhead.
“Two leagues distant, at the entrance to the wildwood! I couldn’t count them! They were gone too quickly!”
Simon and Dominic traded swift looks across the harvest tally books that were piled between them on a trestle table. The table had been used for breakfast and for working on the accounts as well, because there was no warmer room in the keep than the lord’s solar.
“The wildwood?” Dominic muttered. “’Tis not the commonly used approach.”
“But ’tis the one that is hardest to see from the battlements,” Simon said. “’Tis also the quickest way from Stone Ring Keep. Were you expecting Duncan?”
“Not unless there were a dire emergency at his keep. There is snow on the peaks and ice in the highest fells. ’Tis no time to be traveling.”
Dominic turned to one of the three squires who was mending leather garments for use under chain mail tunics.
“Bobbie, tell Sir Thomas to sound the alarm.”
“Aye, lord!”
The young squire set aside his leather work and ran from the solar.
“Edward,” Simon said. “Attend me at the armory.”
“Aye, sir!”
“John,” Dominic said.
It was all he said. Though he had only recently selected John. Harry the Lame’s son knew his duties as squire to the Glendruid Wolf. Harry had been one of Blackthorne Keep’s most stalwart knights until he was lamed in a battle.
Simon and Dominic strode quickly to the armory, followed by the two lean youths who were barely old enough to grow a beard.
A bell pealed urgently over Blackthorne’s fields, calling everyone to the safety of the bailey. Shouts echoed through the keep as knights, squires and men-at-arms ran toward the armory.
Though Simon and Dominic dressed with the speed of men long accustomed to the heavy, intricate trappings of war, the armory was crowded by the time the two brothers each accepted a broadsword from his squire.
Dominic’s and Simon’s movements as they fastened the swords in place were the same—quick, expert, calm. As always, Simon had the edge in speed. While Dominic was still settling his broadsword around his hips, Simon took his heavy winter mantle from Edward and fastened it around his shoulders.
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