For The Love Of Laurel

by Patricia Harreld

  “Okay. Once upon a time there was a handsome hero. Well, he was handsome until a drug Czar slashed his face with a knife.” Laurel raised up. He gently pushed her back down. “It’s a story. Just listen.”

  He pulled the covers down to her waist so he could rub her back. His fingertips barely touched her as they started at her shoulders and slowly slid down until they touched the top of her bra.

  “Now this hero, whom we shall call Cedric . . .”

  “Cedric? Good God.”

  “Quiet, wench. Who’s telling the story anyway?”

  “Well, at least let me pick out the beautiful heroine’s name.”

  “Not possible. This is my story.”

  She grumbled. “Just don’t call her Griselda.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” His fingers played softly over her upper back, causing her to shiver.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No. It just feels wonderful. Don’t stop. Tell me about Cedric. Was he a knight? A prince? A king?”

  “Don’t be so impatient,” he chided. “He was a blacksmith.”

  She raised up again. “A blacksmith? What kind of hero is that? And I suppose the as-yet-unnamed-heroine was a common whore.”

  Dylan sat up. “That does it. Why don’t you give me a massage and tell me a story?”

  Laurel laughed into her pillow. “Okay, grouch. So Cedric was a blacksmith.”

  “In disguise.”

  “Oh. That’s much better.”

  He continued to sit so he could use both hands on her back. As he ran his fingers down her arms, he said, “Now, Cedric lived in a small village.”

  “Oh. The Village Blacksmith. Longfellow beat you to it.”

  “If you don’t be quiet, I may throttle you.”

  “Idle threats don’t faze me, but please, do go on.”

  “Cedric, the village blacksmith, was smitten with a beautiful handmaiden to the wicked queen.”

  “Ah ha. You only pretend you don’t know fairy tales. There is always a wicked someone or other.”

  “Glad you approve,” he commented dryly, unfastening her bra. Before she could react, he began a deep massage. He felt her relax.

  “One day, Cedric, who was handsome except for the scar, decided to wait for the handmaiden to come to the village. He planned to tell her how he felt. It was then he realized he didn’t even know her name. He asked several merchants, but only one had any knowledge, and it was sketchy at best.”

  Dylan eased the covers down, allowing his hands to travel lightly over her bottom and down the backs of her legs to her toes. Don’t do this, Kraft. You are making the biggest mistake of your life. Yet he could no more have covered her again than he could have stuck a knife in his heart. And if she protested, that would kill him, too. Against his judgment, he had taken a chance because there was nothing else he could do.

  Seducing a woman with a fairy tale? That’s got to be a first.

  He gently massaged her legs, and she gave a contented sigh.

  “Don’t keep me in suspense. What was her name?” Laurel murmured.

  Dylan could barely concentrate. Once again, he told himself to stop, and once again ignored his own advice. She didn’t seem to mind it, so why stop unless she told him to? Isn’t this what I’ve wanted since the first time I saw her? Damn right.

  “Ludmilla.”

  She guffawed. “That’s worse than Griselda.”

  “Take it up with her parents. I’m just the narrator.”

  He put his hands on the inside of her ankles and moved them slowly up the inside of her legs, past the calves, past the knees. When he was halfway up her thighs, she shook her head.

  “Far enough, Cedric, lest the wicked queen have you imprisoned.”

  “Yes, Lady Ludmilla.” He placed a kiss on her neck. “I told you Cedric was only disguised as a blacksmith. In truth, he was a prince from a distant land. He had traveled far to take the wicked queen’s considerable lands and possessions, which would include the fair Ludmilla.”

  “By himself?”

  “Of course not. His legion of soldiers waited in the next village for Cedric’s command. But you must remember, the queen’s possessions included all her servants. Cedric was duty-bound to deliver everything to his father. However, he would not give up Ludmilla and stand by as his randy father bedded the woman Cedric wanted. He knew if he could persuade Ludmilla to lie with him, his father would spurn her as unworthy. So he came up with a plan. Every time she came to the village, he made it a point to flirt with her or give her a flower or some trinket. Soon he had her complete attention, and thus began to court her secretly. But there wasn’t much time. His father expected his return within a fortnight. Cedric had little time to bed and wed.”

  Laurel turned halfway toward Dylan. “He should have done it the other way around. First wed, then bed.”

  Dylan glowered at her. “I shall ask once again, my lady. Who is telling the story? Thee or me?”

  “Thou art, sire. Pray, tell me what happened next.”

  He gazed at her, trying to read what she was thinking. Time to find out.

  He went to the other side of the bed and stretched out beside her. Once again he propped his head up. “I’ve always heard when one writes a story, one should show, not tell. Up to now, I’ve been telling. I’d like, instead, to show you what happened next.”

  She started to sit up then remembered he had unfastened her bra. She lay back down and turned her back to him. “Fasten me, please.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “What you can’t do is let one bad experience affect your entire life.”

  “What? You’re suddenly a shrink?”

  “You know why Steadman did what he did. And, yes, let’s say his name, get it out in the open and cast it away forever. You can’t hide behind something that almost happened but didn’t.”

  Now she did sit up. Her bra straps fell down her arms. She crossed her arms in front of her breasts. “How dare you presume to tell me what I can and can’t do. You weren’t there.” She fastened her bra.

  “You’re right. Forgive me. All I meant was . . . oh hell, I don’t know what I meant.” He sat up too.

  “But Steadman wasn’t the only one. There was also Adam. We planned to marry, but he dumped me for another woman. When Daddy found out . . .” She put her face in her hands.

  Dylan put his arm around her. “What did he do?”

  “He had Adam murdered,” she whispered.

  Dylan looked stunned. “How do you know?”

  “You actually told me a while ago when you said he hated anyone who did wrong by me. It just came to me one day what that really meant.”

  “God. I had no idea.”

  “Please, Cedric. Just go away. I can’t do this.”

  “All right, my lady, if that is your desire.” He gazed down at her.

  After a moment, she said, “Oh hell. Just finish the story. And I wouldn’t mind another massage along with it. A back massage, if you please.”

  “So tell, not show?”

  “You’ve got it, Prince Cedric.” She turned onto her stomach.

  Dylan sighed and began to move his hands again. “Your wish is my command, my lady. As the days passed, Prince Cedric became so enamored of the fair Ludmilla he nearly forgot why he had come to the village in the first place. The wicked queen’s possessions seemed unimportant. If he could just take Ludmilla back to his homeland as his wife, he’d be the happiest man alive.

  “But he wondered if she felt the same way. She had never declared her love for him, though he felt in his heart that she did love him. The only way to be certain was to take her to his bed. Her reaction would tell him all he needed to know.”

  Laurel hid her face in the pillow and her body shook. She was laughing. He turned her onto her side.

  “What? Is my tale not charming the pants off you, pardon the pun?”

  She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Not even. First, fairy tales n
ever have sex in them. Not overtly, anyway. They’re for kids.”

  “Most of them contain violence and love. They are more for adults, if you ask me.”

  “Second,” she said, ignoring his interruption, “if Cedric is that besotted, seems he would just steal her away and marry her. Is he so unsure of his own charm and sexuality that he wants the ultimate prize first, in case she declines to marry him?”

  “I don’t recall asking you to critique the story. This is my first time, after all.”

  “A virgin story teller. Okay, I’ll try not to question too much.”

  “That would be appreciated, but to answer what I hope is your last question, I think he’s so certain of himself, he figures she’ll marry him either way. Or if not, she won’t be able to resist his advances because he is such a strong, handsome guy.”

  “Except for his scar,” they said at the same time.

  She reached up and traced the scar with her finger. He watched her face, but there was no hint of revulsion or sympathy. The scar just was.

  Gently, he moved her from her side to her back. His gaze traveled from her eyes to her toes. She didn’t move. He had been so certain she would, he wondered what to make of it. Her face told him nothing.

  “Are you okay?” he murmured.

  “I’m not sure,” she said, her voice shaky.

  He traced her lips with a finger, letting it slide down her chin and her neck. “Nothing will happen that you don’t want. I want to make love to you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but you’re in charge. If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

  “I haven’t been able to . . . since . . .”

  His hand stopped moving. “I know, and I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. If you want to pretend we’re in a fairy tale, I can do that.” His thumb caressed her skin under the lace of her bra. He was careful not to move down any further, and he moved with excruciating slowness, so as not to startle her into pulling away.

  “I’ve never role-played. Have you?” Her gaze never left his.

  “No, but there’s always a first time for everything.” He moved his hand around the outside of her breast and down her bare stomach, stopping short of her panties. His fingertips drifted across her midsection, barely touching her skin.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “I don’t think I’m into role-playing either, but what do you think Ludmilla would do when Prince Cedric finally tried to seduce her?”

  He gave her a peck on the forehead. “That would depend on how persuasive he was. Remember, Ludmilla is in charge.”

  “How would he persuade, do you suppose?”

  “Well, certainly not by asking, so it’s not something I could tell you.”

  “Maybe you could show me just one thing he would do.”

  Needing no further encouragement, he lowered his mouth to hers and brushed her lips. “He might do that.” His mouth traced where his finger had gone just moments before, leaving soft kisses all the way to her cleavage. “Or that.”

  He looked at her. Their faces were only inches apart. “Would that convince Ludmilla?” he said.

  “It might, since you haven’t mentioned she was traumatized.”

  He snapped his fingers. “You are absolutely right. Are fairy tales allowed more than one wicked someone?”

  “Hmm. I can’t think of one offhand, but I guess in a fairy tale, anything is possible.”

  He waggled his finger in the air. “And we must remember, this is my story. Alas, I forgot one of the most important parts. The wicked queen was so mean . . .”

  “Her face turned green,” Laurel said.

  Dylan rolled his eyes. “Poetry now? Whatever am I going to do with you?”

  She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. So how mean was she?”

  Dylan didn’t know how much longer he could do this. Whether she realized it or not, she was just about where he wanted her to be. He was leading her there, but one misstep and it could be over in an instant. Slow and careful, Kraft. Slow and careful.

  “She was so mean that even wolves and lions ran from her. So mean that she paid the general of her army to have his way with Ludmilla, whether she liked it or not.”

  Now Dylan felt her muscles tense, but he was ready for that. He stopped touching her and moved further away. His voice was hypnotic as he said, “Prince Cedric loved Ludmilla so much, he would give his own life to keep her safe. He slew the general. Ludmilla realized she loved Cedric and agreed to be his wife. And they lived happily ever after.”

  Laurel sighed. “If only fairy tales really happened.”

  “Would you like to deal with a wicked queen?”

  She looked over at him. “I already deal with a wicked king named Gerald.”

  He took her hand and squeezed it. “So fairy tales aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Me? I prefer this world, with all its imperfections.” His gaze bored into her. “And perfections.”

  He put his mouth on her lips, gently forcing them open. He knew she wanted to resist, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. He wanted her to trust him. He deepened the kiss, fully aware of any signs that she wanted to stop. She tried to move her head away, but he was too strong. He continued to kiss her just long enough to let her know she was still in charge, though he could change that at any time. Then he let her go.

  She pushed at him. “Get off me.”

  “I’m not on you,” he said calmly.

  “You promised to stop if I wanted you to.”

  “I did. We aren’t even touching.”

  “You didn’t stop soon enough.”

  “Yes, I did. Listen to yourself. You sound like a vestal virgin, which we both know you aren’t.”

  “I should slap you for that.”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Forget it. Just give me a blanket and go away.”

  “No.” He said it ever so quietly.

  She raised her eyebrows. “No?”

  “No. I want to ask you something. If things were different, would you be attracted to me like I am to you?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “Well?”

  “Maybe,” she finally conceded. “Oh hell. I hated you at first. Then I came to tolerate you. I think I was attracted to you and didn’t want to admit it because of the thing with Steadman. Besides, I knew Daddy would throw a fit if I became involved with the hired help—which is what I thought you were. There were more negative reasons than positive ones for me to ignore what I felt. That’s probably why I always gave you such a hard time. It was easier to be angry and rebellious than to dwell on something that couldn’t be.”

  “But it can be. All you need to do is remember that you have done this before—that you aren’t giving up your virginity. Let’s be in charge together. I promise you I will do my very best to make the experience pleasurable for you. If at any time I fail, let me know.”

  “If we’re in charge together, the same goes for you.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand. “Believe me, there is nothing you could do that would cause me to ask you to stop.”

  He got off the bed. “But I can tell myself to stop, and that’s what I have to do. Right now. As much as I want you, I would always wonder if I’m taking advantage of you. If this ever happens, it can’t be like this. It has to be when you want me too, not when you are, once again, defying your father. Do you understand?”

  He was dumbfounded when she just stuck her tongue out at him.

  “What?”

  “Oh, Dylan, you are such a thoughtful person.” She sat up and leaned against the headboard. “But you don’t know me. I’ve defied my father countless times in countless ways. Sure it was traumatic when Steadman accosted me, but he didn’t rape me. Granted, it put me off men, but deep inside I knew the right man could change that. And try as I might to ignore it, I have always suspected you were that man. My tantrum, as you called it, was against one person—my father. Not Steadman, not you—my father.

  �
�I’m seeing the side of you I always knew you had and would never show. And I’m not about to let this opportunity pass. I think you had me at the airport the first day we met. I fought it hard because I was still getting over Adam’s death and didn’t want to believe another man could interest me so soon. Besides, I knew Daddy would never allow it. But there’s no explaining what’s in one’s heart. So unless you’re lying about wanting me, I suggest you dim the lights some so the atmosphere is more romantic then get your butt back on this bed and show me your moves.”

  She held out her hand to him. After dimming the lights, he took her hand and sat back on the bed. They both moved until they lay face-to-face.

  “There’s just one thing you should know about me first,” she said softly.

  “What’s that?” He felt he could drown in her beautiful eyes.

  “I’m a sixth degree black belt in sex. You?”

  “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

  Chapter 31

  It was now one a.m. Ordinarily, Dylan would have felt there had been enough foreplay, but he wasn’t about to deprive himself of one second with her. He could hardly believe it was really going to happen, and knew it wouldn’t if she hadn’t admitted what she just did.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered, putting her hand on the back of his head and pulling him toward her until their lips met.

  He did—as gently as his heightened libido would let him. He would let her take the lead, let her set the limits, the pace, all of it. Once he knew the rules, if indeed there were any, he would take over.

  “What was that?” she said. “I asked for a kiss from a lover, not from a brother.”

  “Just wanted to be sure. But now that you’ve asked for it, you shall have it.”

  He brought his mouth down hard on hers. She put her arms around his broad back and stroked it. Her lips opened and his tongue sought hers. He moved his tongue in and out of her mouth, a prelude of what was to come.

  Still kissing her, he sat her up, unfastened her bra and pulled it off her. Then, purposely ignoring her breasts, he lay her back down. He could sense she was surprised he hadn’t touched them at the first opportunity, and that was what he wanted. Keep her guessing.