Stealing Heaven

by Madeline Hunter

  The darkness in his head left little room for Addis’s words, but they found a small place to settle all the same. He watched the first man get pushed and dragged up the ladder. He let the noose be fitted and tightened. All the while he felt that hand on his arm, beckoning him away from recklessness.

  He waited until the last moment and then, although his essence yelled a rebellious denial of the decision, stopped it. Three men wept with relief, the terror finally showing itself.

  The man from the hut wore a thin silver chain around his neck, and Marcus yanked it off. He brought it to the battered woman, and pressed it in her hands. “It is not compensation for your husband or your misuse,” he said quietly. “I know that.”

  He strode to his horse. “Bring them. This reprieve will be a brief one. Relieve their garments of any coin or valuables, and give it to the families they offended. Leave one of their horses, too.”

  The villagers parted for him as he led his troop away. It sickened him to see their expressions of dull resignation. He knew what they thought. Marcus was English and they were Welsh, and they believed that no soldier sworn to a man as powerful as Arundal would ever be punished for a crime against such as them.

  Addis left him to his scathing mood, and the long ride back to Anglesmore was a silent one. Marcus’s anger grew, and it soon encompassed not just this day’s events, but the followers of Llygad, whose increased violence had provoked the incident.

  He knew that what had happened in that village was merely a taste of what might come. If he could not stop Carwyn Hir soon, if war broke out, the Welsh would be at the mercy of the armies called up to crush it, and the tenuous justice that they knew in this land would disappear.

  Chapter 18

  Something had happened. Something bad.

  Nesta’s worry built as the soldiers entered the hall. They were all subdued, and their mood rained silence over the whole household, especially the men of Addis’s company who had increased the crowd and noise this evening.

  She fixed her gaze on the entrance. As man after man passed the threshold, her heart beat harder and her breath grew shallow. She waited so hard to see Marcus’s head that she thought her chest would burst.

  The last of the troop straggled in, and the entrance cleared. Sickening fear slid through her in a cold chill. She knew that her concern was not rational. There would be more commotion if Marcus had been hurt, but dread numbed her all the same.

  Two shadows darkened the threshold. Two bodies, encased in armor, stepped into the light. Marcus and Addis. Relief broke with a burst of joy, but the dark expression on Marcus’s face instantly had her alarm prickling again.

  Chaos claimed the hall as the servants arrived with food and ale for the men. Marcus stood in its midst, not appearing to notice the activity. His attention shot around, and came to rest on her sitting near the far wall. The world parted, creating a lane between the two of them in which nothing existed but their connected gazes. Danger flowed down that alley to her.

  Marcus caught a passing servant and spoke to the man, who hurried off into the crowd. Soon, rows of servants began stringing through the crowd, carrying buckets of water and following their lord to his chambers.

  The story of the day’s events spread. Nesta heard the tale from the English wife of one of the knights. The words entering her ears created a different image than the lady intended to impart, and Nesta narrowed her eye on the stairs where she had last seen the lord of the manor.

  It was a good thing Marcus had retired and was out of her sight and reach. In delaying justice for Arundal’s men, he had only proven that he was just one more English lord preserving another one’s right to treat the Welsh as a conquered people.

  Seething resentment grew as she thought of those poor villagers. She remembered the freezing worry she had experienced while she waited for Marcus to appear. Not once during those horrible moments had she thought about her father’s men, and who among them might have been wounded and killed. She hated the way her heart kept betraying her. It made her furious with herself, and with Marcus.

  A servant approached her, carrying a tray of food and drink.

  “My lord asked that you bring this to the solar.”

  “I am sure you are mistaken. You can bring it.”

  “His command was that you do it, my lady.”

  No doubt this food was for Addis. Marcus had surely told him about the betrothal, and now wanted his bride to attend on their guest in the appropriate fashion. She had no intention of maintaining the deception for this visiting baron.

  She rose and took the tray. It was time to clarify the situation.

  The solar door stood ajar. Putting her back to it, she pushed it open and entered with her burden.

  Only the hearth provided light, but it was enough to beautifully display the back of a man sitting in the tub. The skin appeared golden in the fire’s glow, and a thousand dots of water shimmered on it. She took in the broad shoulders and lean muscles. Wet hair hung to his neck, but it was too light to belong to their guest.

  Aside from him the chamber was empty. No servants lurked in the shadows, waiting to assist.

  She carried the tray to the large table near the window. Setting it down in his view, she pivoted and aimed back to the door with her eyes lowered.

  “Stay.”

  The order caught her as she passed.

  “I would prefer not to.”

  “I did not ask what you preferred. Close the door, then bring me some wine.”

  Gritting her teeth, she pushed the door shut and went to pour the wine. Delivering it meant that she had to face him.

  She tried to avert her gaze, but she saw him all the same. Saw the shoulders she had held and the hard chest she had kissed. Saw the strong arms that had embraced her, and moved her body at his will. Saw the wonderful, masculine hand that now grasped a cloth and squeezed rivulets of water down a well-formed leg.

  She held out the goblet of wine. His other hand closed over it, and imprisoned her fingers beneath his.

  Startled, she looked up. His face appeared as harsh as she had ever seen it. His eyes held dangerous, vivid lights. Not only anger flamed in them. The fuel that fired them was more complex than that. And whatever else passed in that gaze, she could not deny that she also saw a bit of the way he had always looked at her, and she reacted a bit as she always had.

  She pulled her hand free and walked over to the table to fuss with the rest of the food, slicing cheese and meat. “I expected Sir Addis to be here, not you.”

  “I gave him my chamber. He will use it while he is here.”

  “If you summoned me so I would know where you will sleep henceforth, there was no need. There was no danger that I would slip into that chamber looking for you and find him instead, I assure you.”

  No response came at first, but she could almost hear an unspoken one in the pause. “I summoned you so that we might speak,” he finally said.

  “It could have waited until you are done with this.”

  “In my present humor our talking could not wait. It has been in my head for hours.”

  “Then the bath could have waited, so I would not have been summoned like a servant to attend you thus.”

  “I found myself impatient for this too. I wanted to wash a day of riding off me. And also the stench of death.”

  “I thought perhaps you wanted to cleanse yourself of a bad judgment, much as Pilate did.”

  The sounds of washing instantly stopped. An ominous silence came from the tub.

  She sliced more meat, and cursed the way her hand shook.

  “A different judgment would not have brought those three men back, Nesta, and if I were you I would not be throwing accusations at anyone tonight. The way I see it, the death of those villagers is on your head.”

  She swung around. “How dare you say that. Arundal’s men commit murder, and you blame me?”

  He rose from the tub, revealing his nakedness, but neither of them cared. He grabbed a
towel and dried himself with strong, deliberate wipes. “I blame your father and his followers and anyone who has aided or instigated the strife growing in these parts. When a baron pursues these criminals, he will not stop at his border and let them escape. It is the boldness of the recent raids that put those villagers in danger, and it will get worse in the weeks ahead. You think to strike a blow against England, but the people who will feel the most pain will be the Welsh themselves.”

  He threw the towel aside and grabbed a simple robe. “I wish you had been with us today. God, how I wish it. When I saw you in the hall I almost grabbed you by the hair to drag you back to that village, so you could see what your grand scheme had brought to pass.”

  She thought her head would burst from swelling anger and resentment. “No scheme of mine brought it to pass. The unchecked power of Arundal did, and the smug confidence of those men of his who assumed that if they erred no one would care. And they were right, damn you. And so it has been for hundreds of years on the marches, and now in the west and north as well. Today does not lay bare only the dangers of my father’s dream. It also proves the necessity of it.”

  The robe slid over him. He stepped toward her, his eyes blazing, his damp hair falling around his face. He came close enough for her to feel the anger he barely kept in control. “Just what is your father’s dream, Nesta? I have guessed, but it is time for me to know for certain. A free Wales, independent of English rule? Was Llygad up Madoc so bold as that? That is a high price to make Edward pay for casting his eye on a daughter.”

  “He did not raise his banner because of me. Eventually he would have anyway.”

  “But he chose that moment. He knew the stories about you and Edward would get the attention of the Welsh, and that his violated daughter would make a fine symbol of Wales itself. As with the woman, so with the country. Used by England, perhaps even raped. Exploited for England’s pleasure and gain. Denied the dignity and courtesies reserved for the English themselves. It was perfect. Did Llygad plan it? Encourage the King’s interest in you, and hope the story would spread?”

  Her hand swung of its own accord, aiming for his face as she vented the burst of outrage that his accusation evoked.

  He caught her wrist before she connected, and held it in an iron grip. “What else has been your role in this? You will tell me now.”

  “I will tell you nothing.”

  He stepped yet closer, still holding her wrist, using his strength to dominate her. “Whatever it is, it is over. You will do no more damage. If you can stop it, you will do so.”

  “You are a fool if you think it was ever in my power to stop it. You are doubly a fool if you believe it is in your power.”

  “It will be stopped, Nesta. If not by me now, by Edward later.” His other hand took her face in a controlling hold. “In either case, you are out of it. Do you understand that?”

  She narrowed her eyes on him. “I am the daughter of Llygad ap Madoc, and my nobility was already ancient when yours was first created. There are still some of us who do not cower in front of English power, Who do not submit to commands from such as you.”

  “I have been too indulgent with you. Too careful with your pride, because of what has passed between us. That was a mistake.” His hand dropped from her face, but he did not move away. Nor did his anger retreat. “When I found you in the snow, you offered to kneel later at my pleasure. Now would be a very good time, lady.”

  “I’ll be damned first.”

  “You will do it, because of your promise, and because you are my bride—”

  “I am not your bride.”

  “—and because I command it. You will also do it because I will make you if I have to.”

  He meant it. She did not doubt that he was angry enough to force her body to assume a position of submission, even if he could not bend her will.

  She looked into the eyes watching her. Looked deeply enough to see not just the lord but also the man. There was more to this battle they fought than England and Wales. There always had been.

  Because of that, she was not without weapons to match his.

  She just gazed up at him, not at all cowed. The challenge in her expression only goaded his determination. This would end here, now. He would not live with this particular viper in his camp any longer.

  The glint in her eyes turned knowing. She stepped back, but not in fear. “You are right, Mark. I did promise to kneel. I will do so now, to make good my word.”

  As she strolled away, her hands went to her head, and she began releasing her hair from its knotted style. “But you do not only seek the fulfillment of a promise, do you? You want me humbled, and at your feet like a petitioner. When a woman submits like that to a man, she normally does so without jewels or other vanities. That way she appears much more a beggar.”

  She kept her back to him as her hands did their work. Her long, waving tresses began falling in luxurious strands, down her back. She shook her head when they were all free, and the long sway floated back and forth in a sensual shimmer.

  Marcus suppressed his reaction. He’d be damned if—

  Her hands began releasing the lacing on the side of her gown. “Of course, if I am to be humbled, we should make it as complete as possible, so that your pleasure in your victory is all it can be.”

  His gaze fixed on the delicate plucking of her fingers on the lacing. He knew he should stop this, but the slow release of her gown’s closure mesmerized him. An onslaught of furious desire buried the anger that had demanded she kneel. It remained alive beneath the hunger, however, giving his reaction a keen edge.

  She shrugged the gown off her shoulders. It slid down her body in a slow, tantalizing path until it pooled at her feet. The firelight revealed the shadowy shape of her body beneath the shift.

  She turned to face him, her eyes downcast. The soft cloth of the thin shift fell over the swells of her breasts, and the hard nubs of her nipples pressed the fabric. The evidence that she too was aroused obliterated every thought except the desire to have her.

  “Is this humble enough?” Her gaze rose, and the primal sensuality that had always bound them yelled its silent demands. There was no submission in her eyes. She was all challenge and daring and female power. “Perhaps not.”

  Her hands reached for the fabric on her shoulders. Not averting her gaze, connected to him as if by a chain, she slowly revealed her luminous skin. “You were correct that day in the cottage. I enjoy making you want me. No touch could be as tantalizing as the way you are looking at me now. It gives me more pleasure than a tongue licking all over my skin. It makes me shiver with delicious anticipation.”

  Her words and the slow slide of the shift revealing her nakedness, had his head storming.

  Her hair draped around her, swaying as she stepped toward him, and glimpses of her body came and went as she moved. She approached until she stood right in front of him, her breasts peeking seductively through the tresses and the scent of her increasing the madness threatening to own him.

  She reached for the closure on his robe and undid it, then brushed the garment down his body. “I had intended to leave by now, but the craving indeed goes both ways, and in unhorsing you with this weapon I find myself defeated too.” She looked up at him, and he thought he would drown in her eyes. “You appear angry still. I think that I will kneel, after all. Because I choose to.”

  She lowered herself elegantly, fluidly. Her closeness made him burn. He gazed down on her dark crown while her fingers began an exquisite torture. She caressed his hips and thighs, and finally, luxuriantly, his phallus. His breath caught and a furious, relentless urging pounded through him.

  Her breath warmed him, and then, when he was close to begging, her lips replaced her hands. With her first kiss, his mind split apart.

  It thrilled her more than she had expected it to. All of it did. The plan had been to defeat him, and show him her strength, but her own yearnings betrayed her as they so often had before.

  Even now,
as she made love to him, the control was not all hers. Her body cried with anticipation, impatiently demanding its turn. The craving slyly subverted her. Heaven beckoned, a state of bliss where the two of them dwelled as one and the strife that had brought her here no longer existed.

  Leaving him incomplete, she rocked back on her heels, and rose.

  Control tightened his expression, making him so compelling in his passion that her heart almost couldn’t take it. An angry question flashed in his eyes.

  She shook her head in response. Nay, she was not leaving. Not now. That would be impossible.

  She went near the hearth, and knelt again, facing it. Sitting back on her feet, she waited for him to join her, so they could finish this with a joining that made neither of them victorious or vanquished.

  Time pulsed past, but she could feel him as surely as if they embraced. He was looking at her, and letting the expectation tantalize them both for a while.

  “Move your hair off your back, Nesta.”

  She pulled it forward, so her back and bottom were bare.

  “That is how I saw you in the cottage that day, while you bathed. Your lovely back curving in to your waist, and the roundness of your hips and bottom. You looked very erotic,” he said. “I wanted to stride across that rude chamber and take you at once. It has always been that way between us. Finally having you did not change it, as I thought it might.”

  Hoped it might, was what he meant. She had hoped so too. But what wanted to happen between them had always been bigger than mere lust. It had even been bigger than duty, and Wales and England. Bigger and more compelling in ways that frightened her.

  She heard him move, and then come up behind her. His leg warmed her shoulder.

  A pillow dropped to the floor in front of her.

  She looked at the pillow, then glanced up at him. “Only because I choose to, Marcus. Only in our passion do I submit, because it excites me to do so.”

  He eased down behind her, his thighs spreading to flank her hips. Arms circling her, he leaned her back into his warmth. “Then do so, Nesta, but first kiss me.”