Queen's Guard 01 The Queen's Guard: Violet

by Traci E Hall

  “There is nothing to forgive, Sarah. Love or lust? You say love.” Bella couldn’t accept her friend’s hands, not while wondering if Jonathon was a killer.

  “And which will Jonathon say?” Queen Eleanor stared hard at Sarah. “That’s the burning question now.”

  Larissa opened the door and brought in a loaded table and palace servants to serve the food and wine.

  Bella stared at the open door as if it were a miracle from God. “I need some air,” she said, grabbing her cloak from the hook as she darted out to the hall.

  She heard her friends call for her but ran as if her life depended on it. Perhaps Sarah’s did. She had to find Jonathon.

  Bella rushed out of the chamber, then skidded to a halt in her stockinged feet as she saw a Holy Roman Empire soldier clad in purple standing at the top of the stairs, obviously ensuring their safety after last evening’s debacle.

  She quickly and quietly turned the other way, trying to remember where the entrance to the hidden passage was. All she wanted was out! After being confined her entire existence, the receding chance of freedom burned in her chest like a room clogged with candle smoke.

  Where had Raoul let them out last eve?

  Sarah pregnant. The queen’s anger. Jonathon’s betrayal.

  Panic slowly built as she searched for a way out of the palace, but once the ember caught, anxiety blossomed like a fire. Her coolheaded thinking gave way to worry that Jonathon could be a killer. He’d lied, and he didn’t believe in the Queen’s Guard as he’d said. His behavior the night Sarah was stabbed had been off, but she’d attributed it to worry, to his feelings for Sarah. But what if …

  The only thing to calm her nerves was fresh air, but palace guards were at every stairway. She’d brave the dark tunnels by herself to get outside. She searched behind a statue and then a tapestry. She blinked, uncertain, as a panel fitted to the wall slid aside as if by sorcery.

  “I never would have escaped on my own,” she whispered. Tightness banded around her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.

  Raoul stood before her, his mouth downturned, his dark eyes raging with indecipherable emotion.

  “Were you looking for me, my lady?”

  Bella froze as she detected the slight slur in Raoul’s words. Fear kept her still as she remembered her husband almost beating her to death when he’d been drinking.

  She licked her lower lip, knowing that Raoul and her husband were two different breeds of men. Raoul was physically stronger. Bigger. Younger. She flinched when he thrust his palm toward hers. Her pulse raced at the base of her throat as she eyed his large hand, scarred and calloused from hard work. Sword work, oui, but he had integrity too and was far from the lazy sod she’d married.

  Sympathizing with her friend Sarah, Bella took Raoul’s hand and accepted the risk. Lust or love?

  Raoul felt Bella’s trembling fingers and knew he’d made a tactical error. Drinking to forget a pair of violet eyes was stupid enough. Deciding to spy on Bella added a level of idiocy to his already bad plan. He was about to push her back and leave when he realized her beautiful eyes seemed cloudy.

  He paused, noticing she had no shoes and no belt but held a cloak. The tunic she wore made her look like a red and ivory mushroom with her leather-clad legs as the stem. She whispered his name, and her wine-scented breath convinced him to haul her up to the passageway before someone saw them.

  “Are you all right, Bella? Where were you off to in such a hurry?”

  “I want to go outside. Anywhere but within these walls.”

  He saw her shiver and put his arm around her shoulder. “Are you cold?”

  “Non.”

  She seemed overwhelmed, panicked. He knew where he liked to go when he needed to breathe. “I will take you to the roof.”

  “And throw me off?” With a lift of her chin, she eyed him.

  “Why would I do that?” Raoul resisted the urge to smile.

  “No reason.” She squirmed from under his arm. “Lead the way.”

  He shut the panel, enclosing them in darkness.

  “Have you no candle?” Her voice pitched upward, but she didn’t try to flee.

  “We don’t need one. Hang on to my belt.” He felt her fingers tug on the leather braid around his waist, and he walked forward slowly so she wouldn’t be frightened.

  Just her presence in the passageway made him more aware of not only his body but the proximity of hers. Her head reached his chest, her hand was small enough to tuck into his belt, and her stockinged feet were silent as she followed him like a shadow.

  It was Manuel’s fault. Raoul should have bedded a whore and drunk himself stupid instead of waxing poetic. The emperor had ordered Raoul to read some of the love stories in the book from Eleanor’s grandfather, the troubadour from Aquitaine. Flowery words and limp swords, the lot of it. Through it all, Bella’s beautiful face had shone like a beacon in his mind.

  He pulled her toward the last curve leading upward. Raoul turned the knob, his palm surprisingly damp, and opened the door, ushering Bella to the stone roof as if leading her to a private dance floor.

  Her eyes were as bright as the starry sky. If he’d thought to impress the lady, he would have had food and drink laid out on the stone tables or torches lit so that he could better see her face.

  Raoul glanced about the roof, aware that there was no blanket or chairs for sitting and the crenellations around the roof were old and crumbled. Not very romantic, but the lady wasn’t looking for a tryst. If anything, she’d looked on the verge of hysteria.

  “Stay back,” he warned, gently pulling her from the edge. “This part of the palace has been forgotten by everyone but me.”

  “I like it,” Bella said, peering into the night. “The ocean seems as black as ink, with the light of the moon skipping across the foamy waves.”

  She used her small hand to demonstrate the wave, and Raoul chuckled. “I wish I could offer you a seat, my lady, but I fear I wasn’t prepared for guests.”

  Bella’s mouth twisted. Then she shook out her cloak flat on the roof. “There is room for us both to sit, gallant sir,” she said, her soft voice teasing.

  Raoul decided to play along, whatever the game turned out to be.

  They sat, awkwardly at first until Raoul put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his chest as they quietly looked out at the night. He heard her shallow breaths deepen as she calmed, until she finally said, “Thank you for bringing me here. I thought I was going to start screaming and never stop, as if I were trapped inside the palace and all I could think of was being free. But there were guards at the stairs, and I couldn’t find the passageway, but then”—she sighed, taking a breath—”you were there.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She tilted her head so that she was looking up at him. The curve of her porcelain cheek invited his touch, but he kept his hand tucked securely around her waist. “I think Jonathon might have stabbed Sarah.”

  A thin layer of cool sweat covered his skin. “Why?” Raoul had yet to find Jonathon. Was the knight guilty of attempted murder? He’d thought it possible too.

  It seemed she hesitated before she said, “He and Sarah are having an affair.”

  Ah. That answered many of Raoul’s questions. “So why would he kill her?”

  Bella shrugged, as if working the problem through. He could tell she kept some things to herself even as she spoke. “Jealousy, maybe? A lover’s quarrel that spiraled out of control?”

  “Would Sarah protect him after he tried to kill her?” Raoul ran his hand down Bella’s back, offering comfort. He wished for her sake he could say for certain that Jonathon was not guilty. He sensed it mattered.

  “I don’t know.” She looked up at him, a lock of ebony hair slipping over the soft line of her jaw. “I don’t understand love or desire. I cannot say what a person might do for the one they care for so desperately, above all else.”

  Her eyes beguiled, tempted, and invited him closer. He cl
eared his throat, knowing that once he kissed her mouth, he would be lost. She was not the kind of woman a man left in the morning as if nothing had changed. She offered a rare gift: the gift of herself, with no ties but those he wished to bind.

  The choice was his to make. Was it time to leave the past behind? To take a chance on the future? He’d found the memory of his wife and child less painful if he separated them from his sister’s evil deed.

  Raoul heard a voice whisper to be happy, and then he leaned close, just as Bella lifted her mouth.

  The first brush of male lip to female lip ignited the passion he’d banked longer than he’d known Bella. It was a release of forgotten emotion that made him curve his hand protectively around the back of her head, holding her closer and closer as his mouth plundered hers.

  Red wine and violets, sweet Bella’s own taste was forever his favorite flavor.

  He felt her cool fingers touch his jawbone, his sensitive earlobe, the pulse at his throat. He could’ve groaned. He might have made a noise, and he tried to pull back.

  Bella rose to her knees, pushing at his chest. “Don’t think to save me from making a mistake. I know what I want.” Her brow creased as she stared at him until he nodded.

  Extending his legs, he leaned back, his palms down. Christ. He hoped she wanted the same thing he did: him buried to the hilt inside her softness. He groaned, his loose pants suddenly confining. He waited like a beggar for alms to see if she would kiss him again. He would let her set the pace of their game.

  Bella straddled him, flashing bare thigh above her leggings as the unbelted tunic billowed above her for a brief peek at bare skin, soft skin. Raoul’s cock pulsed in anticipation as she sat on his thighs. The muscles in his legs jumped as her tunic settled around them, hiding her body from his sight, but he knew what was there and promised himself he would taste and touch each delightful part.

  “I don’t love you,” she said, “but I think I would like a tryst after all.”

  His heart raced as he pulled her down by tugging on her long, ebony waves. “I don’t care about love,” he promised, kissing her until she nodded.

  “I don’t want a babe,” she said, surprising him with the image. She leaned in and sucked his lower lip, her belly brushing his confined penis.

  He pulled the shoulder of her tunic down so he could kiss the skin at her collarbone.

  Her tongue licked at her lower lip. Bella showed no fear, no hesitation, in anything he did. He held his passion close, careful not to scare her as she explored her femininity.

  “I will make sure,” he said, breathing out at what it would be like to create a child with Bella, “that we do not.” He would pull free of her sheath to spill his seed, something he always did to prevent babes.

  As if that was the last thing holding the lady back from grasping her new freedom, Bella tossed her arms around his neck, grinding her pelvis against the hard bulge in his pants. “I would learn all you have to teach me of desire.”

  “Give in to passion,” Raoul said, his body on fire as he cupped her arse. “You feel me against the center of you?”

  She pressed down, and he groaned. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she made a soft noise at the back of her throat. “Oui, I feel it.”

  “That is desire. You will be my teacher just as much as I will be yours.”

  Her eyes opened slowly. “I would have you in my power?”

  Raoul hesitated, then nodded, ready to howl with need. He wanted to plunge inside her until she called his name, but he would wait until she gave the word. “You are in control.”

  Her angelic smile held a hint of the devil as she lifted her tunic over her head, gracing him with a view of her breasts and slim torso, her curved hips, and her ebony mound.

  Raoul’s senses exploded, but he controlled his need by concentrating instead on pleasing her. Her perfect breasts had tight nipples perked for tasting. He leaned in and lightly licked the tip, hearing Bella moan this time, which heightened his desire.

  He lavished care on the other breast, using his hands to impart pleasure everywhere he touched. The smooth skin on her slender hip, the soft, lean muscle of her thigh. He listened for changes in her breathing, soft cues to let him know she felt how he felt as she sat on his lap, facing him, she naked and he clothed.

  He skimmed his hand over her damp mound, his thumb poised to find her pleasure center. She moved, and he uttered a frustrated curse at being denied.

  Her hands tugged at the belt around his tunic, sliding it free. Then she pulled the fabric up, lavishing kisses along his belly as she untied his pants.

  Raoul held his breath, uncertain if he would explode as soon as air reached his erect, sensitive cock.

  “Lift,” she said, her breathing fast and shallow. He did as she instructed, and she tugged his pants down, her fingers gently and slowly touching his skin as she occasionally dropped her mouth for a kiss.

  His penis, finally free, was heavy with desire. His need only grew as Bella pulled his shoes free and then his pants.

  She stood, smiling in victory, with his pants in one hand, the other hand on her hip. Her hair, loose from its tie, whipped around her like ebony silk in the ocean breeze. Her pale, slender body, backlit by the moonlight, her woman’s mound covered with dark hair that protected the ultimate feminine secret.

  Raoul couldn’t find the words to tell her how magnificent she was, even when she threw his pants over the wall before walking seductively back to the cloak, where he lay like an offering to Athena. All he needed were grapes to feed the goddess. He’d never submitted to a woman before. He couldn’t think of trusting a woman enough to let her take the lead.

  “My lady, I’m at your service.”

  Were there ever such romantic words in the history of trysts? I’m at your service. Bella walked around her dark and dangerous lover, watching him watch her. “Thank you, monsieur,” she said, her voice deepening with anticipation. “Lift your arms.”

  He did, and she reached down to lift the tunic from the hem, bringing it up and over his shoulders, admiring the ripple of muscle as he moved. Her husband had looked nothing like this. She’d been thinking of Raoul since she’d seen him naked, coming from the water like a god of old. It was a relief to see him again in the flesh.

  She tossed the tunic aside and ran her fingers through his hair. She dropped to her knees behind Raoul, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her aching breasts against his muscled back, and resting her cheek against his warm shoulder.

  His breathing came faster as she trailed her fingers gently up and down the line of hair at his lower belly. “We are equally naked now,” she murmured in his ear, feeling his skin pebble with goose bumps as she lightly nipped his ear-lobe. He turned to kiss her, but she shook her head. “Wait.”

  Fascinated with his muscles, she traced the ones along his shoulders with her tongue, tasting salt and male flesh. The combination made her wet with desire, and it was all she could do to keep from rubbing against Raoul like a cat.

  She knew he let her lead the way on tonight’s journey, and she reveled in the power of discovery. Oui, his strength was mightier, but she feared nothing from him. He remained in control, even when she put him on the edge by licking the outer shell of his ear while circling his hard nipple with her fingertip. She stayed behind him, exploring him at her leisure.

  She felt his body shake, and it heightened her want. Her need. Was this what the queen’s poets alluded to with their soft prose? The words were nothing compared to the reality of Raoul.

  Bella slid around him so that she once again sat on his lap, this time without the barrier of clothes between them. His hot, straining member pressed against her feminine center, but she didn’t allow him in. Her female flesh ached with something she’d never experienced. Was this feeling worth dying for?

  Love or lust?

  Desire satisfied without emotion would be lust. Yet Raoul made her heart feel too. Until tonight she’d been safe behind the walls of her compo
sure and self-control, but as Raoul caressed her naked skin, she felt wild. She could toss her head back and cry out with abandonment. Who would hear but the man who made her ache and who could satisfy this wildness inside of her?

  “You’re thinking too much,” Raoul said in a heavy voice. “Just feel, Bella. Give yourself over to the passion within.” He ran his hands from her shoulders to beneath her breasts to her hips, each place he touched igniting.

  Bella lifted her hips so she was poised above Raoul’s engorged penis. Her breath caught at the drop of moisture at the tip. She licked her lips, her chest heaving as the fire within her threatened to burn out of control. She hesitated.

  Raoul brushed his thumb over the pulsing nub within her feminine folds. The new sensation took her over the edge, and she plunged down, taking Raoul deep inside her. She dropped her head forward, resting her forehead on Raoul’s heaving chest. Her insides pulsed as her body stretched to accommodate him. His breaths came faster, and he strained against her but didn’t grab her or force her to go faster.

  She slowly moved her hips, reveling in the feelings. Watching Raoul’s half-closed eyes as he experienced pleasure taught her what he liked. What she liked.

  Together they climbed the peaks of desire until her mind went numb and there was no worry about who controlled whom as they gave to one another without thought, only wanting to give and receive. At last he filled her so completely that she burst, falling apart like a shooting star across the sky.

  She stilled, reveling in each pulsing tremor throughout her body.

  When it was over, she rested her head on Raoul’s chest, his heart pounding loudly beneath her ear. “Thank you.”

  “Hmm?” Raoul’s chest rumbled as he made the sound. Bella smiled, too tired to move.

  “Thank you. For letting me experience being in control. And for teaching me that I don’t have to be in control.”

  “I did all that?” Raoul’s voice held a teasing note.

  “Oui.” She toyed with the tightly curled hair around his nipple at eye level.