Wild Lavender

by Nicole Elizabeth Kelleher

  “Lark!” She’d recognized the thickening voice and that all-too-familiar gleam that came into his eyes. If she did not put space between them right away, she would never have another chance. She slipped from his grasp.

  Grainne had thoughtfully laid out wine and food near the hearth. Anna moved so that the small table was between them, determined to hold Lark to his word. After all, it was her turn.

  • • •

  Lark had hoped that the memory of her first wedding night with Roger would be kept at bay. But she withdrew, positioning the table between them as a barrier. He swept his eyes over the food that had been laid out and picked up a piece of bread, giving her the time he thought she needed. He turned the slice over in his hand and studied it.

  “I am glad to see some of the dough made it to the oven,” he teased, trying to ease her fears. “We didn’t have a chance to eat earlier, with you dancing and twirling with every man in the courtyard. Are you hungry?” The expression on her face stopped him from speaking more. Anna didn’t look nervous. Not one bit.

  “Were you jealous?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I was only dancing.” Her voice was deep and husky. He could barely swallow, let alone answer.

  She ignored the food. “I’m quite ravenous myself,” she told him. His blood stirred as her eyes raked his body, and he tried to come around the table. But she would not have him closer, and moved to keep the obstacle between them.

  Frustrated by her evasiveness, he started to lift the table away. “Wait, Lark,” she pleaded, pressing her hands on the surface to keep it to the floor. “If you remember, it is my turn.”

  He took one of her hands and placed her palm over his racing heart. “I think we’ve waited long enough, Anna.”

  “I’m serious, Lark. You gave me your word.”

  So, he thought, his Anna wanted to play the temptress. He was only too happy to go along. After all, he didn’t truly believe that she would be able to seduce him. He would wager that she would last only until the musicians struck up the next song before he would have to take over.

  “You have my word,” he stated, and caressed her cheek. “I won’t move until you tell me to.” She came around the table.

  • • •

  Anna realized that Lark never gave his word lightly. With a tentative motion, she put her hands on his chest. All evening she had wrestled with whether or not she would be able to play the seductress. She would probably lose her nerve, she thought, and almost made up her mind to stop before she embarrassed herself. Then she studied Lark’s face. There it was, though he tried to hide it—his knowing smile. And if that smile did anything, it steeled her determination. The corner of her lip curved, and she raised her brow in amusement. Lark, at least, had the good sense to stop smirking.

  Pushing him backward, little by little, she steered him to the bed. I can do this, she told herself. She touched the hair hanging over his forehead and pushed it back lovingly. Standing on her toes, she leaned forward and murmured into his ear, her breath caressing his skin.

  “Now, what was it I said? Oh, yes. I would have to use my tongue, and perhaps my teeth.”

  While her lips teased, her hands were not idle. They slid down to his waist, pulling his linen shirt from his breeches. She lifted his arms and pulled the garment over his head. He was so beautiful, she thought, and stared hungrily at his naked torso. Her hands ran over his chest, delighting in the smooth skin over rock-hard muscles. She could do this, she repeated to herself. Oh yes, she could definitely do this.

  Her gaze locked onto the planes of his chest as she ran her nails over him, leaving him feverish where she touched. She gentled her hands, as if sculpting him, following the curve of each muscle down the well-defined ladder of his stomach.

  Her shaky breath was audible in the quiet chamber as an unexpected feeling of desire surged through her. How did he do it? He hadn’t touched her once, and she was already losing her control. She wondered if Lark felt the same when he thought only of her pleasure. “Of course you do,” she murmured.

  “Hmm?” he managed, sounding lost, and falling silent again as she scratched her fingertip down the center of his chest. She continued lower, pausing briefly at his navel before moving on to the waistband of his leather pants. Trailing her other hand down his chest, following the rippled muscles along his ribs, she brought her fingers together. With her cheek against Lark’s chest, she listened to his racing heart as her fingers worked the fastenings of his breeches until they were undone. She took an infinite amount of time to reach around to his sides, hooking her thumbs in the waistband and pushing down until his pants rode low on his hips. Because she wanted him naked, she waited, enjoying how he looked, how his torso was so spectacularly made that it stole her breath.

  He was ready for her, she noticed, and felt a warm glow rising deep inside her. She would do this.

  Circling around him, never once allowing her hands to break contact with his skin, she massaged his shoulders before running her hands down his back. He exuded raw power. Her fingers traced lower until they dipped into his waistband again, pushing his breeches down over his tight buttocks.

  With a shaky breath, Lark whispered her name as a question. “Shhh,” she purred, as if calming a skittish horse.

  She went to her knees, pulling his breeches to his thighs. Slowly, trailing her nails up the backs of his legs, Anna stood and wound her way around to face him again. With her palms flat against his chest, she pushed him back so that he sat on the bed. She was doing this, she exulted. His breeches removed, she pulled him up once more.

  She pressed her lips to his collarbone and rained kisses across his skin. Her hands traveled from his chest to his sides, then down his back and lower. His eyes were closed now, his lips sealed, his throat swallowing hard, not knowing what was to come. She quickened inside again, knowing she was the cause of his excitement.

  She heard his breath catch as her mouth slid lower. Her hands skimmed his sides as her lips traveled down the taut muscles of his stomach, past his navel, then lower. She veered to one side and kissed his hipbone. Lark gasped when she licked the dimple where his torso met his thigh. Then, with a gentle touch, she took him in her hand.

  He sucked in his breath as she pulled him level with her mouth. Then, hearing his urgent moan, she was emboldened and took him between her lips. Concentrating on just the tip, Anna sucked, kissed, and licked before opening her mouth more to allow him entrance. When Lark’s knees buckled, she followed his collapse onto the bed. He moaned again as her tongue circled around him, and his hips began their own dance to match her rhythm.

  He was at her mercy, and she exploited the motion of his thrusts by taking him in her mouth again and again. And as she continued to lick, suck, and swirl her tongue around him, she saw his hands clench and unclench the blankets.

  This was what she’d been waiting for, and she rose up from the floor. Straddling his knees where they hung over the bed’s edge, she spoke for the first time since shushing him. Her voice, full of raw hunger, was unrecognizable to her own ears. “Open your eyes, Larkin,” she commanded, as he’d once done to her. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

  • • •

  Lark tried to focus. Anna, still in her gown, had raised its hem to her thighs. She placed first one bare knee, then the other, on the bed. His vision cleared just as she kneeled above him, her legs astride his hips.

  “I want you to watch me,” she whispered.

  She reached under her skirts, and finding his shaft, she grasped him in her hand. She lowered herself, taking her time, so he was at her opening. He moaned her name, and she slid her body down the length of him, her skirts pooling around them.

  Once enveloped by her, he closed his eyes. But she lifted up again and waited. “Keep looking at me, Larkin,” she ordered breathlessly.

  At her command, his eyes flew open. She reached for his hands and removed his clenched fingers from the blankets. Their fingers interlaced, she slid down again and gasped al
oud.

  Twice commanded to watch, Lark could not now tear his gaze away. She moved gracefully. Her skirts rumpled around and over him, refusing him a view to that which he felt. Strong, lithe thighs relaxed as she filled her body with him and then flexed as she rose before driving down again. He helped her along by surging upward, trying to bury himself as deep as possible in her tight warmth. And still, her beautiful face shone down at him, a crease between her eyebrows betelling of her intense concentration. She was panting, and low, gasping sounds drifted in and out of his hearing.

  She finally allowed him to set the pace, and he increased his thrusting, speeding himself to his release. He could tell she was seconds away from her own. He thrust upward, as deep as he could, while she dropped down to meet him. She rose again and lifted herself almost completely away, lengthening the stroke as much as possible. He answered her motion by stabbing upward as Anna came back down. Sealed against her, his seed exploded. He cried out her name, holding her hands, while his hips bucked off the bed. He could feel her inner muscles spasm until she rode out her own climax. Finally, during her greatest throes of passion, she broke eye contact, arched, and threw back her head, calling his name in unbridled pleasure.

  Her bosom heaved as Lark pulled her forward to face him, making sure she was steady and not at risk of falling backward off the bed. He gazed up at her, astounded. Her chest was rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. Her skin glistened with perspiration. Lark tugged her hands again, pulling her forward until her head hung over his. He lifted his head and kissed her soundly, tasting the salty sweat above her lip and the sweetness of her mouth.

  Neither was capable of speech as she collapsed on top of him. He stroked her neck, and, under the masses of loose curls, she was sodden. His hand roamed down the back of her gown. Here, too, she was soaking wet. More than anything, he wanted to touch her skin, to feel her breasts crushed against his bare chest.

  “We need to get you out of this dress,” he growled. “Now.”

  Anna sighed unsteadily and pushed herself up again, looking dazed. He released the tight lacings that held the bodice of her gown in place. She raised her arms, and Lark picked up the heavy skirts, lifting the dress over her head. Her shift was next. Free from the restraining fabric, Anna fell forward once more. She straightened her legs carefully, so as not to dislodge him. Cheek to cheek, chest to breast, hips to loins. Lark managed to pull a blanket over them; soft strands of music smoked upward through the open window of their chamber.

  Bit by bit, Anna came back to her senses. Boneless, she thought—it was the only way she could describe how she felt. She clung to Lark as he raked in great, shuddering breaths. He rolled them to their sides, an arm and leg draped possessively over her. As the celebration in the courtyard faded, she and Lark fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven—Good Morning

  The hour was early when he woke and looked about their chamber. Their chamber, no longer just Anna’s, he happily reminded himself. The windows were brightening as the sun lifted above the eastern hills, and the rumblings in the courtyard below intruded more insistently into their peaceful haven. Next to him, Anna was slowly shaking off her slumber. When she opened her eyes, he kissed her. “I love you so much, Anna. How have I survived this long without you?”

  “I could ask you the same, Lark,” she replied.

  He held her tightly, and she buried her face in his chest. “You’re stuck with me, my Anna, until the end of our days.” They cuddled, twisted in the blankets, until the bustling outside grew too loud to ignore. He’d almost forgotten about the promise he’d made to Baldric, Trian, and the others. In return for their aid in Lark’s wedding plans, he had promised to take them on a hunt.

  With a groan of regret, Lark extricated himself from the bed. He found his discarded breeches on the floor and grinned at his wife. She blushed furiously but was unable to hide her smile. “You may want to dress,” he suggested as he walked behind the partition that separated their dressing area from the rest of the chamber. “Else we may never leave this room again.”

  • • •

  Anna searched the rumpled bed and sighed happily when she spied Lark’s shirt. She had just slipped it over her head when there was a knock at the door followed by a screech as it opened. In piled Grainne and Doreen, with Claire trailing after them, begging them to wait.

  “I tried to stop them!” she cried, inserting herself between the two women and Anna. There was a collective gasp from the women behind Claire, and Anna smiled as her sister’s jaw dropped as well. Lark had just come from behind the partition. His pants, not quite completely fastened, hung dangerously low on his hips.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Lark offered, unperturbed by the women in his chamber. “To what do we owe this honor?” His question was met with complete silence. He chuckled and crossed the floor to Anna’s bedside. “Have you seen my shirt, Anna? I know I had it last night.”

  When Lark’s gaze fell upon her, he stopped, noting that the desired garment was draped around her. “Ah, I see. Well, it looks better on you, my love,” he told her. “I’m sure I have more clothes around here somewhere.” Anna saw Claire lift her hand to hide her grin.

  “Perhaps over there,” Anna suggested, pointing to the dressing area.

  “Of course,” he stated. After donning the rest of his clothes, he walked past the astounded women, then proceeded to the chamber’s door. Anna coughed delicately, and Lark returned to her side faster than Grainne and Doreen could widen their eyes. Grainne clucked her tongue as he murmured to Anna while tucking stray tendrils of her mane behind her ear.

  “Perhaps we should have secured the door last night,” he whispered.

  Anna smiled. “I guess we were too distracted.”

  “Definitely. But I’m of a mind that after this morning, we’ll not have to worry about future untimely intrusions.” He glanced in their audience’s direction. “I think they may just faint.”

  Lark gave her a kiss that smacked with desire. After the heated embrace, Anna struggled to catch her breath. And lest she forget it was he who had stolen it, he kissed her silly once more. He grinned at her in that way that melted her knees, then stepped away. As he passed Claire and the still-gaping Grainne and Doreen, he called out, “I’ll meet you in the stable, wife?”

  “I’ll be right behind you, husband,” she answered brightly.

  “I bid you goodbye as well, sister,” Lark added to Claire with a chaste kiss. He nodded to Grainne and Doreen, and then he was gone, leaving Anna to fend off the ensuing interrogation on her own.

  She buried her head under the blankets to muffle the din. Shouts of husband and wife filled her chamber. Peeking from beneath her covers, Anna beseeched her sister with her eyes.

  And so it was Claire who put a stop to the cacophony by slamming the chamber door shut. “Come, ladies. We need to help her dress if she’s going to join the others on the hunt.” Cries of congratulations and demands for every detail of the wedding followed as they fussed about her.

  • • •

  Claire watched as her radiant sister, having finally extricated herself from Doreen and Grainne, opened her chamber door and shooed them into the corridor. If only their parents were alive to see this, Claire thought, they would have been so proud of Anna.

  “You seem sad, Claire,” Anna noted. “Is everything all right?”

  “I just miss Mother and Father,” she explained. “They would approve of Lark, you know, for the love you bear each other is so strong. I only hope that when it is my turn…”

  “I promise you, Claire,” her sister vowed, “you will marry someone you love. King Godwin’s list or no.” Anna stopped and gave her a great hug. “Oh, here comes Trian.”

  When Anna stepped away, Claire felt that all-too-familiar disorientation that had plagued her since she was a child. She reached for the wall. The corridor seemed to stretch and expand, then shrink back upon itself. An image crystallized in her mind,
and she breathed in relief. She wouldn’t black out this time, only swoon, for it was good tidings.

  “We’re on our way to meet him,” she heard Anna explain to Trian. For a brief moment, Claire’s eyes focused on Trian’s. He saw her distress and rushed to her, catching her before she fell. His arms were strong as he held her, and gentle for such a bear of a man. And he smelled of horses, and leather, and sunlight.

  “Claire!” Anna cried.

  “I’m all right, Anna,” Claire assured her. “I just need a moment. Trian, could you let the others know that we’ll be along soon?” He nodded and helped her to stand. Though he walked away, his scent lingered, and Claire breathed deep. The wholesome odor calmed her.

  “What was it, Claire?” Anna worried. “There’s only one reason that you ever faint. Have you seen something?”

  Claire smiled, then whispered in Anna’s ear and placed her hand on her sister’s stomach. “’Tis true, Anna,” Claire said when wonder filled her sister’s eyes. They heard the sound of feet taking the stairs two at a time and saw Lark rushing into the hallway, Trian close behind.

  Anna gazed lovingly at her husband, and then whispered in his ear. Claire had never seen a smile as beautiful as Lark’s in all her life.

  “What is it, Claire?” Trian asked.

  “I’ll tell you,” Claire replied gaily, “later.”

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to my best girls: Becca, who listened to the “screenplay” on our walks; Julie, Cheryl and Mary, for never thinking I was crazy for putting pen to paper; and Karen and Laura, who read countless versions, from one thousand pages to five hundred and everything in between. Your encouragements and critiques were always appreciated.