Lord of Vengeance

by Lara Adrian

  “What have you done to me?” He swore an oath as she ran her fingers down the length of his back, pressing her hips into his.

  The feel of him, so hard with need, so filled with want for her, was intoxicating and gave Raina courage to explore his body. Her fingers slipped beneath the waist of his braies to feel the soft skin of his hips. He groaned when she moved to the front, splaying her fingers in the crisp hair she found there and moving the back of her hand against the thick heat of his desire.

  Sensing his anticipation, she moved to grasp him firmly in her palm, smiling as he hissed a sharp breath. Velvety steel surged tighter as she stroked him, slowly at first, then quickened her caress in response to his body's fevered reaction. A deep growl rumbled in his chest. “My God, woman, you'll unman me in my braies.”

  “Good,” she purred. “'Tis only fair that I make you lose control of your body as you so like to do to me.”

  He rose on his elbows and looked her in the eyes. “Turnabout is fair play, lamb, and I'm finding that I rather like losing control.”

  He swallowed her laughter with a kiss. She reached down, unfastening the ties at his waist and shoving the linen trousers down his hips, freeing him from the confines of his clothing. She curled her hand around his pulsing heat again, delighting in its palpable surge of silken power. She brushed the moist tip with her finger, tracing a wet ring around the crown of his manhood. His breath was ragged beside her ear as she continued to tease him, rejoicing in the moans and sighs she elicited with so simple a gesture.

  She stroked the length of him, tentatively at first, then more boldly when his hips began to move with the motion. Impossible as it seemed, he grew larger in her grasp, filling her hand so that she could scarcely close her fingers around him. She had only a moment to marvel at the idea before his hand found hers and stilled it, bringing her fingers to his mouth. He kissed her hand and placed it against his chest. His heart thundered beneath her palm, nearly as fevered as his breathing.

  He kissed her wildly, moving over her and spreading her thighs with his knee. The urgent weight of his erection nestled between her legs then pressed forward, gliding easily into her. He groaned as he buried himself deep within her, filling her exquisitely as he sheathed himself to the hilt. Raina's hips arched against him, coaxing him deeper, wanting him fully. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, holding him tighter as he surged into her, his strokes at once hungry and fierce.

  He took her savagely, with a driven quest to impale her very soul, to brand her as his own. His need for her unnerved him. His want to possess her consumed him. He thrust into her, harder and deeper, as if to crawl inside of her, wanting her to feel the breadth of his wanting, the power of his desire for her. With a final surge, Gunnar dove to the crest of her womb, rejoicing in her whimper of release. Slowly, with a control that surprised him, he withdrew nearly to leave her, then slid back in, his strokes long and deep, bringing her to the pinnacle of yet another wave of ecstasy.

  She cried out, the most delicious sound to his ears, and her hips came up to meet his bold strokes. Gathering her trembling shoulders to him, he pressed deeper, his own desire claiming his senses and his control.

  She held fast to him, meeting his strokes and pressing heated kisses to his neck, beneath his ear, her breath hot and panting against his skin. Each thrust went deeper, made him harder, drove him closer and closer to climax, until with a final surge and a strangled cry, he exploded inside her, his seed coming fast and wild, spilling into the searing heat of her womb.

  Some reckless part of him hoped it would take, indeed, secretly hoped that he had already gotten her with his child. It was a fool's wish to be sure, and worse, a selfish desire to know that no matter what happened when he met her father, he would always be a part of her and she of him. But she deserved better than his bastard. She deserved far better than he could ever hope to give her.

  Still, that didn't stop him from thinking about spending the rest of his life at her side. Since she'd shared her innocent wish for a future together, Gunnar had been entertaining similar notions. Agonizing over the prospect of having to contend with her father in a few days. Imagining himself wed to Raina, picturing her resplendent and heavy with his babes.

  Each moment he spent with her made the dreams seem more real. Made the hopes seem more possible. Every time he kissed her, he thought about what could be.

  Dangerous business, dreaming. Was that not his warning to her just yesterday? He had to put an end to it before he started making promises he wasn't sure he could keep.

  As if he needed further torture, Raina nestled deep into his embrace and kissed him below the ear. “I love you,” she said, and an agonizing silence began to stretch between them. When he didn't respond, she said it again.

  He moved off her then, rolling onto his back to stare sightlessly at the rafters. His exhaled breath was deep, rasping as he weighed what he was about to say. Beside him, Raina shrank away, her body tight with mounting apprehension.

  “I cannot keep you here any longer,” he said at last, amazed that he was able to form the words. “I'm sending you home, back to Norworth. You'll leave in the morn.”

  “Tomorrow? Why?”

  He moved to the edge of the bed, sensing her confused, stricken gaze fixed on him. “Because it's time,” he answered gruffly. “Long past time, I reckon. We both knew this day was coming, Raina, sooner or later.”

  “Aye, later.” The pain and shock in her voice stabbed him, sharp as any blade. “We still have four days left together--”

  He forced himself to face her. “Four days and then what, lamb? I've taken too much from you already and soon I will be faced with the very real possibility of taking something else away from you--what remains of your family.”

  “You mean more to me now than anything...or anyone else.”

  “Ah, Raina. Don't fool yourself into thinking you no longer care for your father now that his past sins have been exposed. You said yourself he has never treated you unkindly, that the man you know is not the same person who wronged me. 'Tis a far easier thing to deny your love for him now, lying beside me in my bed, than it will be should you have to look upon him dead or damaged by my hand.”

  Even in the dark he could see her face register distress at the idea. “Then you still intend to carry out your plan for vengeance, after everything--”

  “I still plan to meet him, aye. Not even what we have shared these past few days can change my intent on that score. But I vow to you, the first blow will not be mine. Beyond that, I cannot warrant a thing.”

  “But if you don't have me to bargain with, he has no reason to come,” she pointed out. His Raina, rational even when her heart was breaking.

  “Tell him I've sent you home as a gesture of good faith. If he has acquired any amount of honor since the time I knew him, he will meet me, with or without my using you as bait. And if he is half the man you once thought him to be, he would want you there no more than I.”

  “Gunnar, I want to be with you. You need me. What if something should happen? If I'm there, my father will be more receptive to you, more willing to discuss peaceful settlement--”

  “My decision is made, Raina. I don't want you there.”

  She paused before asking, “Because you're afraid you won't be able to slay him in my presence, as happened with Burc?”

  “Ah, lamb, I had hoped you might know me better than that.”

  “I'm not certain what I know anymore. I thought there was something between us. I thought things were different now. I thought things had changed...”

  When he heard her voice break, he reached out to touch her cheek--then abruptly pulled his hand back. Comforting her now would be a greater sin than sending her away hurt. He could not give her false hope of a future together.

  Not when he wasn't certain if he would ever see her again.

  Though his own thoughts about vengeance and the confrontation with d'Bussy were now conflicted, in light of his havin
g taken Raina hostage, Gunnar could not be sure the baron would arrive willing to talk rationally. And while he had no intention of striking the first blow, he could not guess at the baron's designs for the meeting. Already d'Bussy could be laying a trap or plotting an ambush.

  The thought of dying had never scared Gunnar before and in truth, it didn't now. What made his stomach churn was the thought of Raina being there to see it. Killing was an ugly thing to witness even in the best of circumstances, and not something he could bear to suffer on a woman as gentle and good as she. And knowing his fierce lamb, he could not be sure that she would stay out of harm's way should the situation turn combative.

  If she knew how strongly he felt about her, if she knew how much he wanted her in his life now and forever, it would only make her more determined to be with him when he met her father. And that was a risk he was simply unwilling to take.

  He rose and strode to the door on weak legs. Before quitting the chamber, he said, “I'm sorry I've hurt you, Raina. But this is for the best. You'll have to trust me.”

  * * *

  Morning came too soon, and Raina woke alone in Gunnar's bed. She slowly donned her bliaut and a pair of leather shoes Agnes had brought her; she even took the time to braid her hair, hoping and praying that in his absence, Gunnar had not intended to send her home without bidding her farewell.

  Home.

  Strange, but Norworth no longer meant home to her. The thought of returning to that place and the lies it housed made her tremble with dread. And now the inevitable had come early. Had she really thought this moment would never arrive? Had she really expected that she'd never have to say good-bye to Gunnar?

  How bold she'd been these past few days, inviting him into her arms--into her body--proclaiming that there be no talk of the past or regrets, talking instead of dreams and wishes and forever. How brave of her to say that in loving him she knew what she was asking for, that she was prepared for the consequences. How naive she was to think she could go on unchanged after knowing the pleasures of his body entwined with hers.

  She realized now that she had actually convinced herself she could deny her past, forget it even existed. But being with Gunnar had made her believe many things.

  Even that he loved her.

  She clung to that faith as she blotted away her tears, trying to convince herself that the ache in her heart would not be a lasting one. He had promised her nothing, gave her no firm hope that he would come for her once his conflict with her father was resolved. Still, she prayed he would.

  In her mind she envisioned a scenario where Gunnar and her father met and talked out their differences, where the two of them rode back to Norworth in peace if not friendship, and where she and Gunnar were reunited, never to part again. Gunnar had warned her about dreaming and wishing, but her foolish heart refused to listen...even now.

  From the corridor, what seemed a world away, came the sound of approaching footsteps. “Beggin' pardon, milady,” Agnes said softly. “They're ready for ye outside.”

  Reluctantly, summoning every ounce of courage she had, Raina stepped out of the chamber. She hadn't even left Gunnar's keep and already she missed him. Already she mourned losing him. Damp cold from a steel gray sky bit into her skin as she descended the stairs leading from the keep to the bailey. She held her chin high, though her heart was heavy, her steps leaden.

  Across the bailey, Cedric and Wesley had already mounted, the latter holding the reins of Alaric's chestnut palfrey for her. She stood there, frozen at the bottom of the stairs, unable to take the first step away from the keep. Mother Mary, but all she wanted to do was run back inside and lock herself in forever. Agnes nudged her from behind with a gentle pat to the shoulder. “Go on now, milady,” she whispered and flashed her a genuinely warm smile.

  Weakly, Raina began the long trek toward the horses, stepping past each face she had come to know and love: Rupert, the shy young page, smiled at her; Odette and Dorcas both murmured well wishes for her safe journey and a good life; all the men who had spun her around the hall last eve sent her off with kind words.

  Next she passed Merrick, who opened his arms to embrace her. Raina crushed against him, breathing in the scent of herbs that clung to his clothes and his beard. “He won't betray your trust in him,” he whispered beside her ear. “Even if he can't say the words, he loves you, eh?” She backed out of his embrace, and Merrick winked. “Remember what I told you, eh? Trust.”

  Raina nodded numbly and moved toward her mount. Her gaze fell to Alaric who stood between two men, his arms draped over their shoulders for support. His leg had to pain him terribly, yet he had come to see her off. A sob tore free from her throat and she slipped her hands beneath his mantle, fiercely hugging his bony torso. “I will miss you very much, Alaric.”

  She felt his arms come down around her as he embraced her, balancing his weight on one foot. “The keep will not be the same without you, milady. Neither will Lord Gunnar...nor I.”

  She released him, stepping back and rubbing her hands over her arms. She felt so cold, so empty. A light rain had begun moments before, but it wasn't until now that she'd felt the chill. Alaric unfastened his mantle and draped it over her shoulders.

  “Nay,” she said. “You don't have another.”

  He shook his head, holding up his hand to quell her protests. “I insist.”

  Raina threw her arms about her friend's neck, holding him tight. “Then I will take it, but only if you allow me to return it to you very soon.”

  He nodded as she stepped away from him and fastened the mantle about her neck. She turned to her mount and slipped her foot into the stirrup. Alaric beamed up at her. “The horse is yours to keep for good,” he said with a grin. “Milord has given me another...a handsome white destrier. A man's mount,” he announced proudly.

  Nigel's destrier, Raina surmised, and felt her heart lighten to see Alaric's joy. She could picture him atop a white charger, a chivalric knight in shining armor. He would make a fine soldier, and one day, a fine husband.

  Reluctantly, she settled into the saddle, looking over the bailey one last time. So much had happened in the short time she had been here; she had become a part of these people's lives, and they a part of hers. She vowed never to forget a moment, no matter how far away her life took her. No matter how many years passed.

  “Milady,” Wesley said, reining his destrier about, “are you ready?”

  Nay, she thought desperately, she would never be ready. A gust of wind buffeted her, as if to push her from the bailey. It seized her mantle, thrashing it about her ankles furiously.

  Perhaps it was a trick of the wind that drew her attention, making her look up to the wall-walk...where he stood.

  A stoic figure in black, his dark hair whipping about his face and shoulders. His jaw was set, his eyes hard as he watched her from above.

  When she spied him there, Raina froze, her eyes refusing to blink, refusing to turn away from his image. In that instant she memorized him where he stood, an impassive warrior, a gentle man. She loved Gunnar with her entire being, would have surrendered her life to him as surely as she had already surrendered her soul.

  If he wanted her.

  “Milady.” Wesley's voice was soft behind her. “We must be on our way.”

  Raina nodded her acknowledgment, her eyes still fixed on the man she loved. She longed to leap off her mount and run to him, to enfold herself in his embrace, never to leave his side. She closed her eyes against the pain in her heart. Then, with great effort, she lifted her hand to bid him good-bye.

  He did not see, for he had already turned to walk away.

  * * *

  Gunnar stepped away from the wall-walk, fighting the urge to go after Raina or to call her back, knowing he had done right, even if being without her felt wrong as wrong could be. He had taken the coward's way out in avoiding her--last night and this morning--but in truth he wasn't sure he would have had the strength to stand before her and tell her good-bye.

&
nbsp; Just watching her cross the bailey and ride through his gate was difficult enough.

  He thought he would feel better about his decision once she had gone, but found his heart ached keener with every lurching beat. Only a handful of moments since her departure and already he missed her.

  Saints' blood, but how would he ever live a lifetime without her?

  Standing on the parapet, the wind biting his face and snapping his mantle around his legs, he made a solemn vow that they would be together again--whatever the cost.

  Chapter 21

  Norworth rose straight and foreboding against the bright midday sky as Raina and her two escorts cleared the forest surrounding the expansive motte and bustling village at its base. The two days of travel had passed more quickly than she might have expected, due mostly to Wesley's unflagging efforts to keep her spirits up with jests and songs.

  Now that they had reached their destination, however, nothing could brighten her mood. Wesley likely sensed her dread, for he reined in beside her and placed his hand gently on her arm. “You're home, milady, safe and sound.”

  Raina nodded absently, staring out at the castle that had been her haven for all her life. Strange how its grand towers and imposing facade no longer bespoke home. Her heart found home in the ramshackle ruins of a northern countryside keep, with a renegade knight on a black charger.

  She turned to Wesley and Cedric, nearly ready to plead that they wheel about and take her back with them. But in the distance, the trumpeter's blast sounded from the castle wall, announcing their arrival as if to tell her for certain it was too late to turn back.