Deeper Than Roses

by Charlene Cross

  A cheer went up, and the bride and groom were hoisted high on several strong shoulders to be carried to a place of honor. At once the celebration commenced. The amount of food and drink consumed astounded Kristiana, a toast being lifted to the couple every few moments. Logan barely touched the dark ale, while Kristiana thought that if it were acceptable, she would drink an entire keg.

  Nervously she fidgeted in her place until Logan finally leaned over and whispered: “Are you restless because you’re eager for me to bed you? Or do you squirm so because you abhor the thought altogether?”

  Kristiana blinked. “Neither. It’s just I don’t know what is expected of me—not completely.”

  Golden irises turned the color of deep amber. “Then it is time I show you.” Rising to his full height, he urged her to her feet. She seemed to tremble under his gaze. “Do not fear my love, Kristiana. It is the only thing of value I have to give.”

  “It is the only thing I want,” she told him. And it was true.

  His hand rose; fingers lightly caressed her cheek. “I give it to you freely.”

  The couple walked the few yards to Yokka’s wagon. While Logan disappeared inside Kristiana waited. When he reappeared he held a large leather sack and a clean length of linen. “It is for our marriage bed.”

  Kristiana blushed, for on the morrow the cloth would be displayed to the entire camp, showing proof of her virginity.

  “When the night is over I will take it to them,” Logan said of the linen, smiling. “You may remain hidden.”

  “I believe I will.”

  After having a few words with his uncle instructing Yokka to keep Sebastian in camp should the man at last arrive, Logan lifted the leather sack, then took his wife’s hand. Together they slipped quietly into the wood.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, following close behind him as they traveled along the path that led to the stream, a full moon lighting their way.

  “A secret place. One that is meant for us alone.”

  They came to the water’s edge, and Logan lifted Kristiana into his arms. He forded the stream in the shallows; once across, he set her on her feet. “This is where I found the rose,” she said, gazing up the steep incline. “Is there something special up there?”

  “Something very special,” Logan whispered, his voice husky. Its sound had nothing to do with the weight he’d just carried, for Kristiana was as light as a soft summer breeze. The tightness in his throat stemmed from his anticipation, he knew. His desire, which had ignited from a tiny spark, was now a steady flame. Soon it promised to become a blazing inferno. “Come,” he said, tempering his urgent needs. “I’ll show you.”

  Leading the way, Logan held her hand to guide her up the dark hillside. When they reached the wild rose he covered its thorns with the leather sack and pushed the vicious canes aside. To Kristiana’s surprise, an entrance was revealed. “A cave?” she asked, gazing up at Logan.

  “It is our secret chamber for this one night.”

  Kristiana followed Logan through the opening, its existence masked by the craggy rock. Inside she waited while he lit a torch. As orange light bounded off the burnished walls she noticed that on one side of their haven a stack of dried wood had been laid. As the flame from the torch set the kindling afire the dampness within the cave seemed to evaporate.

  Then her gaze shifted. There beside the campfire rested a thick pallet of furs. Their marriage bed, she knew.

  As confirmation, Logan knelt in the center of the pallet. Sure hands spread the linen cloth over a section of the furs, then he gazed up at her. “Come, sweet.” His hand stretched out for hers, and her fingers slipped over his callused palm; Kristiana descended to her knees, facing him. “I have brought some wine,” he said. “Would you care to share a cup?”

  Her nerves felt jittery, and Kristiana knew she needed something. “I suppose—yes, that sounds nice.”

  “Good.” Logan retrieved a skin of wine and a tin-plated cup from the leather sack. He had hoped she would accept the offering. Edward’s mistreatment of her had undoubtedly left deep scars—scars that might ruin this special time that was theirs and theirs alone. With the drink he thought to calm her fears, chase away her inhibitions. And when she’d had enough he would slip the cup from her fingers, his lips kissing the remnants of the wine from hers. Soon she would be his.

  As Kristiana received the cup their hands touched; she felt strangely giddy. Her heart raced as she drew breath shallowly. She thought she might swoon.

  “Drink,” he said, urging the cup to her lips.

  Obediently she quaffed the sweet liquid, enjoying its taste. Then she felt its effects. Her body warmed; her trembling ceased. Her limbs felt far less rigid. As her eyes met Logan’s over the edge of the cup, she took another long sip, and another.

  “Enough,” he said, not wanting her drunk. He saw the questioning look in her eyes. “We were to share, remember?” He took the cup and downed its remains. He set it aside. “Come to me, Kristiana.” He turned her around, settling her back against his raised knee to cradle her in his arms. Her head pressed against his shoulder he held her thus, enjoying the moment in silence. As they both watched the dancing flames of the campfire he felt her relax completely against him; his lips gently touched her temple. Fair and innocent, she could hot be rushed. Patiently he waited.

  Beneath her ear, Kristiana heard the steady beat of his heart; her own seemed to triple its speed. Cuddled contentedly in his arms, she felt the brush of his lips. Slowly they moved from her temple to her cheek, then they traced over to her ear. He nuzzled the area, and a quiver of delight shot through her whole being; she giggled. “You tease me!” she accused.

  Logan smiled. “True,” he stated, his hot breath fanning her ear.

  Yet another quiver raced through her veins; an odd twitter settled deep in her stomach. “Why?” she asked, feeling extremely breathless.

  “You need to be gentled. I’ll not take you until you feel you are ready.”

  Pulling away slightly, she faced him. Her gaze was centered on his, and she noted how the reflected flames made his eyes glow even more golden. Their fiery light rivaled the sun’s, and Kristiana knew he was eager to have her if only she were willing.

  Her hand met his smooth-shaven cheek. “For you alone, I am more than ready,” she whispered as she urged his mouth to hers. “I give myself freely.”

  Resisting, Logan searched her eyes to see if her words were true. Then, at her insistent touch, a groan of longing erupted from his lips; his mouth covered hers fully. Urgently it savored the sweetness of her offering. A hint of wine lingered on her lips as well as on his own, and his tongue traced the edges of her mouth, enjoying the subtle flavor left behind. His senses reeled; at once he felt drugged. No Gypsy potion could match the wild sensation spinning through him now. Kristiana was his magic elixir, her love the panacea that gave him new life. Only through her could he exist.

  As Logan’s mouth hungrily devoured hers Kristiana felt she could not get close enough to him. Her arms encircled his strong heck; her breasts pressed into his broad chest. Still she thought he held himself too far away; a whimper escaped her throat, wanting him to come nearer.

  Logan’s lips quickly traced a path to her ear, where his tongue teased the delicate folds. “Easy, sweet,” he crooned. “Don’t rush it. Let’s relish each new feeling as it comes to us. The experience itself will be over soon enough.”

  “But I cannot wait,” she said. “There is something inside me that seems to quicken with each of your kisses. It fills my whole being. I think I might burst!”

  Low laughter rumbled from Logan’s chest. “I know the feeling.” Engorged as he was, his loins ached unbearably. He eased her from his arms, and his hands moved to undress himself. The tunic shot over his head, and with a flick of his wrist the thing hit the foot of their bed. Exposed to her eyes, he observed how her gaze wandered across his chest. “My flesh desires your touch, Kristiana. Fulfill its need.”

  Kr
istiana surveyed the springy, dark curls covering his bronzed skin. Intrigued, her gaze moved along the ripples of his flat belly. She noted how the fur narrowed into a thin line; it darted into his trousers. Briefly she glanced at the ugly scar at his waist, its top half exposed. Her fingers ached to touch it, to soothe it. Despite the blemish, he was magnificent. Knowing such, she remembered the look of him the day he stood in the stream. He’d come toward her, water droplets dotting his dark skin, sunlight glistening off his brawny body, and as more and more of him was revealed to her interested eyes she’d been certain no man could be as handsome or powerful as her golden-eyed Gypsy. Yet, too embarrassed to view the whole of him, she’d turned quickly away. But now she was impatient to see all of him, explore every inch of his splendid being. Fingers aching anew, her hand lifted, then wavered.

  Spying her hesitancy, Logan urged: “Don’t be afraid.” He pressed her palm to his chest. “Touch me.”

  Her fingers splayed, threading through the curls; their tips eagerly explored the smoothness of his skin. Her hand moved upward over his sleek shoulder and probed the hard sinew beneath. He was like a painting she’d once seen of a pagan god. But the two did not compare. Where one was only an image in oil, the other was hot flesh and corded muscle. Logan was real.

  His husky voice broke through her thoughts. “My hands ache to touch you. Undress for me.”

  Compelled by his words, she obeyed; the shift and dress were lifted over her head. Breathing deeply, Logan steadied himself as each inch of her flawless form revealed itself to his thirsty eyes. At last she was nude, and with a quick toss her clothing met Logan’s tunic at the edge of the furs. Then, as she knelt before him, his heated gaze traversing her body, Kristiana felt her skin flush.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered, his hand moving to her breast. Reverently, as his long fingers entrapped it, he marveled at its fullness. Perfection, he thought. Slowly his black head lowered; his tongue fleetingly flicked against the peak. Instantly the pink bud grew taut, and Logan chuckled.

  At his touch, fire raced through Kristiana’s veins. Her breath caught in her lungs as the raging heat burned to her core. She was certain she would die. “You will destroy me!” she cried, pushing him from her.

  Logan’s gaze climbed to her face. “No, sweet. I will give you life. Lie back, Kristiana, and I’ll show you eternity.”

  At his urging, her back found the furs. Gently he pressed her into them. Then his lips, hot and wet, covered hers anew. Like those of a sorcerer, his hands bewitched her body as they explored every inch of her flesh. Expert fingers grazed her breasts, then flowed lightly over her quivering stomach. Soon they traveled to her legs, prompting them apart. His linen-clad thigh edged between; gently it moved against her center.

  His ardent kisses drugging her like a strong herb, Kristiana felt her whole body quake with desire. Her heart hammered wildly in her breast. “Please,” she whispered, breaking free of his supple lips, “I want—I need—”

  “What do you need?” His hand pressed hers against the linen barrier covering his swollen manhood. “This?”

  Wide green eyes stared up at him. Under his molten gaze, which promised her ecstasy, she nodded shyly. Emitting a low chuckle Logan kicked himself free of his boots and trousers. He edged toward her, and his bare, hair-roughened legs eased against her soft limbs. As his hard member pressed to the curve of her hip his fingers unerringly moved through the soft curls at the juncture of her thighs, where they played lightly.

  Kristiana did not shy away. On the contrary, she welcomed his touch. Likewise, soft hands met his shoulders, exploring briefly; then her fingers moved to his head and threaded through the thickness of his hair. Gazes locked, and the couple beheld each other for a long, enduring moment.

  Then Kristiana’s eyelids fluttered shut. Her breaths quickened as Logan’s exploring hand grew bolder. Avidly he watched each new emotion that was painted across her lovely face. Tenderly, expertly, he readied her for his entry. Her satiny petals moistened under his touch; the small bud rose and hardened beneath his circling thumb. At her moan, gentle fingers found their mark and eased inside her.

  Their thrusting rhythm nearly drove Kristiana insane. Her hips writhed wildly, begging for relief. “You torture me!” she accused, eyes flying wide. “I cannot abide much more.”

  “But you will,” Logan said, knowing she was ready. Swiftly he moved above her. His knees urged her legs apart, and he settled between her satiny thighs. “Hold me, Kristiana.” He drew her hand to him. He throbbed under her touch. “Guide me. Show me where you desire me most.” By her own direction he unerringly found the target. “Look into my eyes, love.” He was larger than most men, he knew, and he feared he might tear her. “There will be some pain.” Gently he eased into her until his path was blocked. Leaning fully over her, he whispered: “Kiss me, Kristiana, and I shall give you my love.”

  Their lips met in a heated foray, tongues mating wildly. With a quick thrust Logan severed the barrier; his mouth received her gasp. His kisses calmed her fears while he inched his way into her depths. When she was finally accustomed to the fullness he began to move, slowly, surely.

  As Logan advanced and withdrew, his control nearly shattered, for Kristiana met him eagerly. Together, remaining one, they savored each new feeling that spiraled through them, seemingly in unison. Their hearts pounded in the same cadence; their minds expanded to a new realm while their bodies worked their own special magic.

  Suddenly Kristiana felt a tiny pulsing sensation. It grew stronger; she thought she would explode. Her hands streaked down Logan’s muscular back to settle on the sleek curve of his buttocks, urging him fully to her. On a cry her head arched back into the furs. Euphoria swept through her whole being. Seeing the rapture on her beautiful face, Logan could no longer hold back. With one final thrust he also called out his joy as he shared the ecstasy of their love, his seed spilling deep inside her.

  After an endless moment their breathing eased; their hearts beat more slowly, and Logan rolled to his back to hold Kristiana close to his side. Silently he gazed down at her. Surveying her silky head as it rested against his solid chest, he smiled. Long fingers brushed the wealth of tumbled hair from her face. In the dim firelight the blush of her cheeks appeared deeper than the red of all roses. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. She made not a sound, then he saw she slept. Gently he eased the furs over them. “I love you, Kristiana. No matter what our future holds, I will always love you.”

  Feeling satiated, Logan grew drowsy, and he fell into a deep, untroubled sleep. It was the first such slumber he had enjoyed in many, many years.

  While Logan slept, his bride cradled gently in his arms, Edward MacHugh watched from astride his horse as his men set their torches to each wagon in the encampment. Like the tongues of many dragons, hungry flames licked up the sides of the ornate conveyances to leap into the air and devour the wood. The holocaust illuminated the predawn sky, revealing the host of bodies littering the ground. Many of his unsuspecting victims had been slaughtered while they had slept. The rest had escaped into the wood. Kristiana was not among either group.

  “Bring the Gypsy girl to me,” he said to Richard Black.

  His liege man motioned to two men, and a struggling Liza was thrust forward, her arms manacled by brutal hands. Her flesh ached from the savage treatment, and to show her loathing she let loose a string of Romany curses that flew in quick succession from her lips.

  “Silence!” Edward shouted, his cold eyes pinpointing her, “or I’ll sever that vicious tongue of yours from your head.”

  Liza glared her hatred, but she hastily complied.

  “Now, where are the two I seek?” Edward asked, his tone frigid.

  “They were with the others when I left them. I swear, if they are not here, I know not where they have gone.”

  “You had better hope I find them. It would be a shame to lop such a pretty head off such a ripe, womanly body.” He saw the Gypsy girl’s eyes widen; he laughed co
ldly, “Keep her here while I search the bodies anew,” he ordered Black.

  “My pleasure,” Richard replied. His lewd gaze raked over Liza’s heaving breasts, then settled on her curvaceous hips. “’Twould be a shame to waste such a sweet piece of flesh without first savoring it.”

  Edward’s eyes connected with Richard’s. “If I find nothing on my search, you may use the black-eyed witch for your enjoyment. When you are finished, leave her like the rest.”

  Liza watched as the man’s hand swept outward across the camp, and her frightened gaze connected with the lifeless bodies one by one. In her haste to seek vengeance she had ridden toward Stirling, desiring to find the Gajo who sought the sorceress who’d stolen Balo’s heart. Always resourceful, she had quickly found him. In exchange for a purse of gold she’d offered to take him to his betrothed. But never had she thought that leading this vile man to the camp would wreak such destruction. Her own father lay dead only a few yards away, and Liza now realized that this was to be her own fate as well.

  “They were here!” she insisted, struggling against the confining hands that bruised her flesh. “They cannot be far!”

  “That is yet to be seen,” Edward said. He turned his mount and slowly made his inspection of the bodies. From the corner of his eye he saw some of his men herding a small array of women and children, who had fled into the wood, back into the camp. He rode toward them. Not finding Kristiana among them, he quickly set his horse toward the spot where he’d left his liege man watching the girl. “The black-eyed witch is yours,” he told Richard. “Use her as you will.”

  A feral gleam shone in Richard’s eyes. “Release her,” he ordered her two guards. They dropped their hands, and a stunned Liza backed away. “A chase is always more exciting,” Black said, urging his horse forward. “Run, my beauty. See if you can escape me.”

  Liza took off toward the wood like a bolt of lightning. As her feet hit the path, which descended toward the stream, she heard her pursuer’s grating laughter rise above her. Fear leapt in her breast, and her whole body seemed to go weak. She would die before she let the pig have her!