A Walk in the Black Forest

by K. A. M'Lady

  Rosalynn had hovered close by during that time and kept her protective eyes upon Gabriella. She was like a mother bird protecting her chick, always close and always responding to Gabriella’s needs. She had brought her food, brushed her hair and spent her time talking to Gabriella about the castle, the people that lived there and even little bits and pieces about the great Lord of Blackmoor. She had even been kind enough to find her more suitable clothing than the translucent shift or her man-like hose and boots, as Rosalynn had often scolded.

  Rosalynn spent a great amount of time in the chair by the bed, taking in a few dresses more suited to Gabriella’s size so that when she was finally well enough she would have decent clothes to wear. A lady did not wander about in men’s breeches, she had kindly informed her. Gabriella wasn’t certain and she was afraid to ask Rosalynn, but she thought the dresses may have come from the wardrobe in her room. She didn’t know whose dresses they were, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  Rosalynn had told her of Damon’s previous wife, Therese. She had said that she had been very young when she and Damon wed, and at the time was quite beautiful. But the outer beauty she possessed did not carry itself to her heart. Rosalynn told her that she had died, killed herself as she threw herself from the cliffs. She also told her that Damon had blamed himself, as did most of the Saxon village, even though there was no proof to it.

  Most of the townspeople whispered their fears behind his back and cowered in his presence. “But there is no reason for you to fear him, Gabriella,” she told her softly. “He is not a monster, and he would never hurt you.”

  Gabriella saw the conviction in Rosalynn’s eyes, felt the truth of her words. She wondered if that were the reason his mood always seemed so black. Wives throwing themselves to their deaths, castle girls stuttering and stammering with fear whenever he passed them by. It’d make her quite grouchy, too. What is with these people? Did they not see his strength and courage? His beauty, his grace? She had known him only a short time, that was true, but his character did not portray him as foul or evil.

  Yes, it was true he had killed many men. She’d seen the number of bodies that littered the ground in the few skirmishes that had taken place in the time she’d been with him. But did he not do that in self-defense? Did he not do that to protect others?

  To protect me, she thought. Although, if fierce, marauding knights took over my lands, I’d be pissed, too. These people’s lives are hard here and survival comes at a great cost, but don’t these people have eyes? Can’t they tell true good from evil? Maybe my whimsical heart and weeks of overwrought emotions are just clouding my judgment. Maybe I should reserve any final conclusion until later. Like after I find the nerve to tell him the truth. That I somehow was transported here from another time. Yeah, and maybe he’ll actually believe me. Face it, Gab, you’re doomed. Stupid time warp!

  That evening, Rosalynn helped her bathe and dress for dinner. It would be her first appearance in Damon’s hall, in front of his people. Her nerves were on edge, and she wasn’t sure she could stand a minute more of it.

  Rosalynn dressed her in a gown of soft green silk, the color of pine trees at the end of summer. The gown suited her coloring and brought out the green of her eyes. Surprisingly, it fit her rather well. Apparently the hem was shortened in both the skirt and the sleeves and the seams were taken in at the waist, Gabriella being smaller and thinner than the dress’ previous owner.

  She wasn’t sure going to dinner and seeing Damon was the best thing for her frame of mind, especially in what was apparently his dead wife’s gown. She had too many uncertainties to ponder, too many worries where he was concerned, and all of them were making her head hurt.

  She wasn’t sure how he would react to seeing her up and out of bed, and she wasn’t sure how she would respond to seeing him again either. She’d had way too much time on her hands these past few weeks to sit and worry.

  Damon brought out a weakness in her, a weakness she had never felt before. She had always been sure of herself, sure of her direction and path in her life. No one had ever caused such feelings of weariness and anticipation. It was both frightening and thrilling.

  Shoving her frets away, she straightened her spine, gathered what little courage she could find, and followed Rosalynn from her room to descend the stairs to the great hall. I’ll either be welcomed at his table, or trussed up like a deer and carried off to the stake where my burning pitch awaits me. She wasn’t sure which thought scared her more. As the light grew on the stairs before her, she placed her future in the hands of fate and would see what life would bring her.

  The hall was a loud, boisterous cacophony of deep male voices and hearty laughter. Light pooled on the tables and glinted on the eating knives of the table’s patrons. The tables were set up down the length of the hall where warriors and servants alike had joined together for the evening meal. There was a huge fireplace with a massive fire blazing within it at the end of the hall that was big enough to roast an entire family of pigs in.

  Two large black dogs, a type she had not seen before, lay before the hearth, watching her with their steely black eyes as she slowly descended the stairs. Her gaze wandered as she took in the rich furnishings throughout the hall. The walls were covered with banners in a multitude of colors and huge shields with gleaming swords and battle-axes hung next to each banner. Rich tapestries in the deep, warm colors of the earth, warm blues and sparkling gold shades the color of a morning sun depicted great hunting scenes all along the walls. The floor was covered in fresh rushes scented with heather and sage and it permeated the air, mixing with the smells of rich meats and fresh-baked breads.

  Seated at the table’s head, Damon sat in the high-backed chair, his dark locks glowing in the soft light of the sconces. His silver eyes glinted as he watched Gabriella cross the room. He sat regally, the large proud lord of his castle proper. Her heart began to thunder when his eyes met hers. If it were not for Rosalynn’s hand at her elbow guiding her, she was sure she would have been frozen in place by the heat that permeated in the depths of his silver eyes.

  The hall had grown quiet at her entrance and all eyes turned to stare at her. Damon had paused in mid-drink and looked up over the rim of his cup.

  Rosalynn led her to the end of the table and stopped directly next to Damon’s chair. Gabriella vaguely heard Rosalynn murmur “milord” as she inclined her head, turned, and left, seating herself further down the row.

  Gabriella had not taken her gaze off Damon’s since they met across the hall. She was drawn to this man in ways that left her senses stunned, too befuddled to think of the ramifications or consequences. Damon stood, took her hand in his and slowly lowered his lips to her fingers. It was a gentle caress across her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Milady,” he stated in the thick rumble of his voice.

  He directed her to his right, between Tanak and himself, a place of honor he bestowed upon her. Several of Damon’s warriors she had previously seen sat to the left of their lord, eyes downcast, focusing on their meal. However, one man remained staring at her, contempt clearly writ in his eyes. Sedrick’s dark gaze eyed her suspiciously before he foolishly spoke.

  “You’d let this Saxon claim such a place of honor, milord?” His arrogance and disgust dripped from his tongue like venom.

  Silence extended deeper into the hall.

  Gabriella had no idea why he would speak of her with such loathing. She’d had very few words with him on her journey to Blackmoor. Other than his leading her to the forest before they were attacked, he had not been left with the task of watching over her and she’d caused him no trouble.

  “Be careful, Sedrick,” Damon replied, his warning filling the silence. “You forget yourself. ‘Tis not your choice to make who I give leave to sit at my table. If you cannot comport yourself to be civil to my guest, then you may take yourself from my hall and return to your duties.”

  There was much snickering around the table as others found mirt
h with the scolding. Sedrick stood abruptly, knocking his chair over. He glared at all of them until his gaze rested on Gabriella. He slammed his cup upon the table, its contents sloshing over the sides to pool around its edges, then he turned and strode briskly from the hall.

  The servants righted his chair and cleaned his spot. No one mentioned the childishness of his antics or the mess he’d made. Gabriella stood dumbfounded, staring at his back as he left the hall. Pulling her closer to the table, Damon urged her to sit.

  As he returned to his own seat, he said, “Do not worry, demoiselle, he is but young, still learning proper behavior, no doubt ‘tis nothing that cannot be remedied in the lists.”

  Gabriella wasn’t fooled by Sedrick’s behavior. The man had a hatred towards her that she didn’t understand. She was still too confused by the turn of events that had brought her here. Too in awe of the fancifulness and the peril of her situation to try to obtain a reason for the man’s actions. Damon seemed unconcerned.

  Damon motioned her to sit, the table filled with a hearty repast that she obviously needed.

  The meal progressed uneventfully. She had shared Damon’s plate, as was custom, even sharing of the rich wine from his cup. He watched her intently as she sampled the fare he had placed before her. Rich succulent venison and pheasant, an array of greens and other vegetables displayed in rich sauces. Gabriella didn’t think she’d seen or eaten so much food in one sitting in her life.

  Through the entire meal, Damon watched her. She responded softly to questions from Tanak and his other men who sat near. They regaled her with stories of their prowess. Stories that she seemed to like intently. She listened with rapt attention to the escapades as his men wove tales of his own prowess.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As the evening ended, Gabriella had a greater respect for these warriors and their master. They lived in very difficult times. The land was harsh, and wars often killed many. The death rate was insurmountable, with diseases running rampant.

  The business of taking over a kingdom was perilous at best, and yet they managed to find comfort and peace within its uncertain future. She pondered this as Damon walked her to her room, his dark frame somehow a comfort in her own uncertain future.

  Damon walked sedately next to her, keeping his long strides in check to match her smaller ones. They had left the hall and the noise of its revelers, walked the stairs and reached the end of the hall, the door to her room at her back as he turned her towards him.

  “Tell me, lady, do you wish now to tell me how you came to be in the field the day we found you?” Damon asked. His eyes were a cast of dark gray as he looked down at her.

  I should have known a reprieve wouldn’t last with this man for long. Tenacious, I’ll give him that. But what am I supposed to say—that I don’t know. Is he likely to believe me?

  She stood before him. Uncertainty filled her, as her breathing became rapid. He pulled her softly to him, slowly so not to startle her or cause any pain to her still healing wound.

  Her sleek form fit like a glove against his large muscular frame, fitting his arms perfectly, her head just below his chin. With an intensity that arose from days of repressed need, he brought his lips down upon the soft fullness of hers.

  She sighed into his embrace, lost the minute he pulled her against him. She had wanted him to kiss her, like this, for what seemed an eternity. She had dreamt about it in her sleep.

  His tongue parted her lips and traced around its edges, sipping gently before delving deeply to taste her. Ecstasy coursed through her as he held her firmly against him, his hand tangling in her hair, his tongue dueling with hers. She was certain that at any moment she would melt in a pool at his feet.

  What are you doing, Gabriella, she asked herself. This is insane…but God, he feels so good! No man had ever stirred her to this madness. No man had driven her with such need to match the loneliness that had once consumed her. That loneliness was melting from her heart as he backed her up against the door and kissed her more deeply, more passionately—if that was possible—than before.

  This woman is a temptress, Damon thought. He had never in his life tasted a woman so wonderful, so pliant in his hands. She felt perfect against his body. Something in her called to the nether reaches of his soul. She tasted like heaven, smelled like the innocence of springtime. Felt like a goddess beneath the folds of satin that clung to her.

  As he clung to her lips, he knew he was doomed and didn’t care about the consequences. Knew that he had to have her, possess every bit of her and claim her as his own.

  He pulled her tightly against him and pressed the latch of her door, easing her into the room. She was lost in his kiss, not noticing that he backed her towards the bed. The room was in utter darkness but for the small blaze the servants had set for the night’s fire. The subtle flame danced with her desire, darkened her deep green eyes as he eased back from the kiss.

  Gabriella knew that madness had overtaken her. Was overtaking them. She knew that she should stop things before they got completely out of hand. But her own needs coursed through her, spoke to her heart as they never had before.

  Even though she barely knew this man, her heart told her she knew all that she needed to. Life was too uncertain, the future too full of possibilities. Just once, she wanted to know. Know what it was to be desired with such fierceness. She needed to surrender to the passion that she had witnessed so often between her parents.

  “I should go,” he whispered, his voice a gentle caress to her heightened awareness. His heart thundered in his chest as need washed through him. “Tell me to go, Gabriella, and I shall,” he whispered against the nape of her neck.

  Her dragon was filled with hunger; desire filled his words as they gruffly, yet softly swirled around her in the darkness of her room. She knew she should tell him to go, but somehow, she could not. “Stay,” she whispered. Her entreaty filled the entranced silence of the room and sealed their fates.

  He pulled her harshly into her arms, his lips claiming hers in victory. Gently he caressed her lips with his tongue, tasting and seeking entrance. He nipped along the edges, blazed a fire across her chin, her neck, reaching the soft spot just below her ear.

  His lips scaled her neck before changing direction back towards her lips. She melted into his embrace and surrendered completely. He kissed the sides of her mouth, her closed eyes, returning again to her lips, surging further inside to taste her deeply once again.

  Damon scooped her up, not breaking from the kiss, and laid her gently upon the bed. Intently, he gazed into her eyes. “We will go slowly, Cherie,” he stated softly, taking in the desire and trepidation that flashed within her eyes, her innocence was wrought along her features. She was versed in the art of kissing, well versed, and he did not wish to dwell on with whom she learned or the beast that he kept shackled would not be able to withhold its fury. He was more than willing to teach her the rest, to lead her on his road of seduction.

  He drew himself down to lay beside her, on his side so he could hold her face between his hands, and yet not put his weight upon her as she was still healing from her wounds. He knew he should wait, wait until there was no lingering of pain to her, but he had no logic where she was concerned. He saw, he wanted, and he would take.

  Her soft complexion was more beautiful than he could ever imagine an angel having. She was a sprite, a goddess, a lovely wish he never thought to hold within his hands.

  The light from the fire danced in her vibrant green eyes and gleamed across her alabaster skin. He watched her pulse thunder in her neck and brought his lips down upon it. Felt the deep inhale of her breath, the sigh that escaped her lips as he trailed kisses back to her sultry mouth.

  Gabriella was going up in flames. Her stomach felt like a million butterflies rested there, then had flown free over every inch of her body, through every pore, igniting every nerve. He was so overwhelming, yet he gently held her.

  He kissed her like she was the most prized possession in th
e world. He caressed her right cheek with the large pads of his fingers, drew them down her neck, her arms and then skimmed them up the side of her waist to pause just below her breast. She shuddered in anticipation as he plundered her mouth, holding her softly in his hands.

  She knew where this was leading and she didn’t care, even though she’d never been down this road before. No one, until now, had captured her awareness like this before. No one had made her feel this way and despite how crazy things seemed, she was going to take this one thing for herself. Revel in his need of her, her need for him and the consequences be damned.

  His hand slid over her breast, cupped it lightly, caressing her nipple to a hard peak as it pulled things low and tight within her body. Each caress was driving her on towards madness. She took his deep, soul stirring kisses and gave him back flame for flame. Her hands reached for his hair, curling her finger within its dark, soft curls.

  He moved on to her right breast, caressing and arousing its peak to equal the tight madness of the other. She arched beneath him, wanting more. Needing more. And he knew what that more was as he loosened her bodice and released her aching breasts to his dark, smoldering eyes.

  Her nipples were hard and waiting for his taste, and he could do no other than lower his mouth. He took one into the heat of his mouth, dying just a little as she arched into him, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her. He caressed the other, keeping it firm and tight and waiting for him to suckle.

  His hand skimmed her waist and thigh as he moved on to the other breast, nipping and swirling his tongue over its peak. His hand moved beneath her dress, pulling it up to feel the warmth of her thighs. He shifted her, moving her legs, opening her thighs just enough to give his hand access to the soft inner flesh. He moved on to her hip, spanned the flat of her stomach before moving on to the apex of her curls.