“You’re mine,” he said, and kissed her, delving into the liquid heat of her. His hands moved on her, blindly, almost roughly, but she pressed up against him even more tightly.
Overwhelmed by sensation, Blaic felt as though his hands and his mouth, his sense of smell and taste, were so confused that he hardly knew what he did. All he knew was that he’d never felt any pull half so powerful, not even in the limitless depths of the sea. She was sweeping him away with her love.
Blaic filled his hands with the high, round weight of her breasts. She tore her mouth from his to bury her face in the hollow of his shoulder and neck. As he stroked her, feeling her nipples harden against his palms, she asked, amazed, “Why is it always so wonderful when you touch me?”
“Is it?”
“Hmmm....”
But he recalled other sounds that she had made, and a mere sigh wasn’t going to satisfy him. He wanted her to shake and cry aloud as she’d done before. Slipping down the lace from her shoulders, he found the sensitive bundle of nerves in the side of her neck and nipped it lightly. He felt the shock of her reaction in both her posture and the breasts he caressed.
She slid her hands up to stroke his throat and toy with his hair. He felt the tug as she pulled the queue from his hair and the whisper of silk as the bag fell down his back. He kissed her again, nearly drunk now, and feeling an excitement burn in his blood that was wholly new.
“Blaic, I want...I want you to make love to me.”
“Yes, I think that I shall.”
“You think?” She lifted up against him again to offer her mouth. He drank deep, stroking all the sensitive surfaces there until they both trembled on the point of madness.
“Felicia, may I tell you something?”
“What?’’ she murmured. Her lips were sweetly red, her skin slightly flushed. Her breath was coming short and heavy as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. She’d never looked so desirable.
“Felicia....” He chuckled at the irony. “I’m a virgin too.”
“You are what? ” Her heavy eyelids lifted and she stared at him in surprise.
He met her gaze ruefully as he dropped his hands. “It’s not the sort of thing we do. I’ve told you that.”
“Then it isn’t...possible?” Her voice was small.
“I don’t know. I’m beginning to wonder if more isn’t possible than I ever believed.”
“Well, I don’t... I don’t know what to do. I always thought that the man — well, marriage beds and wedding nights are the man’s business.” Now she was blushing in earnest and biting her tender lower lip in confusion, and couldn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze wandered about the chamber, though he noted she looked longest at the bed.
“There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed,” he said. At least her hands were still on him, so he could fight the Law.
“I’m not, exactly.” Then she did look at him, and laughed, sputtering as though the giggles escaped by force.
For one instant, he was furious. “This is serious!” Only after a long moment did he begin to laugh as well. “No, it isn’t serious.”
“Don’t...don’t you know anything about it?”
“Only what I have read. The subject never interested me all that much. I remember some love poems, very beautiful but rather vague and...wait! Once, long ago, I saw a book with pictures. I remember thinking how strange mortals must be to find pleasure in such unusual postures.”
“What postures?” she asked, and Blaic remembered that her vigorous intelligence was one of her most attractive traits.
He drew breath to describe one but let it out in a sigh. “Felicia, I have lived long enough now in your time and world to know that unmarried people should not make love. When you are married, your husband and you should explore these feelings together. I....” Her hand slipped around to cover his lips.
“I am not interested in any husband. He is illusory at best. You are here. You are real — real enough. I chose you.” Then she laughed in earnest. “And if you force me away, I shall just command you to make love to me.”
“You will? What happened to your scruples?” The scent of her was like incense. It made him dizzy and a little reckless.
“I have left them behind me. What did those pictures show you?”
“To be honest, I can hardly remember. It has been a very long time since I was in the East.” He scattered kisses over her brow and eyelids. “I remember that the people in them seemed to be astoundingly supple.”
“Then if you don’t...” She leaned into the kiss he gave her, turning her head so that it fell upon her waiting lips. Blaic wanted to resist her, for her own sake, but how could he force her to refuse him when to do so would be to deny his deepest longings?
Then she looked up at him, her vivid eyes brightening with an idea. “Remember yesterday? We weren’t thinking of the future then.”
“I know —we were unconscionably rash. Imagine if those three had come in a few minutes later.”
“That’s what I mean.” Keeping tight hold of his hand, Felicia led Blaic to the simple white bed. It was of noble size yet plainly furnished with sheet and blanket. Blaic felt no need to transform it into something fabulous and exotic. When Felicia lay down upon the counterpane, her hair spread out like the bridal veil of a queen, she elevated the bed to a couch fit for the Empress of the World.
“Sit down,” she said. “This time, take off your boots.”
Her fingertips rested on his back under his shirt, keeping the contact between them flowing. Even while, with much effort, Blaic pulled off his boots without using a jack, he could think of nothing but that feather touch.
Wearing only his breeches, Blaic blew out the candle nearest the bed. “Let the room be lit with nothing but moonlight and starlight. They have forgiven darker deeds than this.”
In the near-dark, his hand sought her with blind need. She gave herself to him, concealing nothing, holding nothing back. He knew he was kissing her too roughly, going too fast, but he couldn’t wait. He had never known what it was to want so badly.
“I could never conjure this,” he gasped, as he pushed her shift down.
Rising up to help him, she seemed to understand. “No. No, this is real.”
Blaic stroked his hand down beneath the band of crumpled fabric at her waist. The heat of her body lit a fire in him that seared through his immortality. Her hands clenched on his shoulders; he felt the tiny sting of her nails as he skimmed over dancing skin smooth as satin. Frustrated, because he could not reach his goal, he pulled his hand back.
“Wait.” Felicia wriggled free of the rest of her clothing as he kept his fingers linked lightly around her ankle. Twisted, sitting more or less upright, she looked down at him. “Aren’t you going to take off everything?”
His eyes, hungry beyond belief, devoured the sight of her lush body, turned to gleaming silver by the moonlight. “Felicia, let this night be for you.”
“No,” she said, and shook the stream of her hair so that it bounced and danced behind her and over her shoulders. Blaic bit his lip with frustration. “It will be for us. If... if... Oh, I never thought of that.”
“Of what?” he asked.
“Well, you say that your people don’t make love. Is that because...I mean...” She sighed. “I didn’t tell the whole truth. I know a little about love. I know that men are different from women. I’ve seen the statues in the garden.”
“The statues?”
“Most of them aren’t all muffled in a cloak, you know, the way you were. Most of them are naked. There was a Hercules, for instance, during the carving of which one can only assume that the sculptor had an attack of delirium.” She put her hand to her cheek as though to cool a blush he could not see. “Most of the others weren’t like that. Smaller, if you see what I mean.”
“Are you by any chance talking about male members?” Blaic asked bluntly. She turned her head away and her shoulders shook with laughter, making everything else move. “Are yo
u by any chance asking me if I am a complete man?”
Her eyes shone with tears as she looked at him, while her beautiful mouth trembled as she tried to control a fit of giggles. “Yes. I am.”
He pulled her down, reaching out to claim all her sweet roundness. Her laughter became silent as he slanted his mouth over hers, showing her without words that he could be everything she wanted. He felt as though he were falling into her, as though she were making him into something new with her arms and her legs and the hot twist inside his chest he felt whenever he kissed her.
Felicia had no more time to think of blushing as she gave herself to Blaic. She wanted him to own her completely, leaving nothing for anyone else. She’d heard a thousand times in her life that a girl must be careful; that a man only desired a girl until he had her, then he discarded her. But Blaic wasn’t a man....
He moved his hips against hers, and Felicia gasped. “Yes, you are,” she whispered, low and tense. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
He murmured hot words against her throat, chanting something that sounded like love poetry, though in a language she did not know. She ran her hands down his back, feeling the slickness of sweat, the tautness of his muscles, and knew she was making him feel this way.
Felicia wanted him closer yet. She wanted him holding her so tightly that they’d melt into one being. “I want you,” she said in his ear, breaking the rhythm of his lyric.
“Yes.” He rolled away a little, and Felicia could have sobbed with disappointment. Separation was not what she wanted, even for this tiny moment. Then his hand stroked down, down, and she flinched as he slid his big, warm fingers into her. He moved his hand so gently that she relaxed enough to let the first wave of pleasure roll over her.
Her eyes flew open. She found him looking down at her, with such a mixture of desire and love that she could not be shy. He moved his hand again, faster now, discovering what pleased her by the changing expression on her face. The waves built and built, driving her along to the point at the edge of the world where it all crashed down. She was looking him full in the eyes when the tidal wave of sensation carried her off.
Then, before she could speak or think again, his weight was on her. That was what she wanted most. She reached up, welcoming him with arms and legs both, feeling that his hardness would fill an emptiness she’d never been aware of until this moment but that had always been there, waiting for him to answer this desire with his own.
He reached up, smoothing the damp hair back from her face. She could feel tension quivering in every line of his body. “Felicia...”
She felt very strongly that whatever he meant to say could wait. Pulling him down to a kiss, she rocked up against him and felt his hips surge ever so slightly against hers while he gasped, leaning his forehead against hers. His light hair fell around her, tickling her face. She knew she was ready for whatever came next; suddenly, she understood why men were men and women were women. It was as if her body had known all along and the facts of the matter had only just become real in her mind.
Felicia ran her hands once again down his back, this time reaching his hard buttocks. Meanwhile, she eased the soles of her feet up his legs. She told herself that this was right, that she could make this decision for both of them and it would be wonderful.
Then, somehow, she lost control of the moment.
He clamped down on her hips, holding her still. He groaned aloud, a pained sound, as he slowly eased his way in past the tightness that guarded her. Suddenly, Felicia found herself pushing on his shoulders, desperate to retreat, to wait, to hold back. But it was too late. She felt a sharp pang cut through the veils of love that had hid the truth from her. Had she just been congratulating herself on her perception? Fool.
“Blaic...please.”
“I know...I know. Wait.”
She lay beneath him, trembling, trusting him to help her. Slowly, she felt herself changing, stretching to accommodate this loving invader. He lifted up and she could look down between their slippery bodies and see the darkness of him disappearing into her. Then he began to move again, shallow strokes at first, letting her experience all the hot slide of him. The pain lingered, but she couldn’t tell if it grew less or it was just that she wanted more of him.
Felicia realized after a few moments that she was rising to meet his thrusts, that they had fallen into a perfect accord of tempo. She ran her hands up his trembling arms, urging him to fall. When he did, she closed her eyes against his neck and let the driving cadence carry her away.
The feeling hit her hard, without the slow increase she’d already grown accustomed to. She threw her arms around him, grateful that he was there to hold on to as blackness swirled around her. She chanted his name, interspersed with cries of joy that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than her voice. When his entire body went rigid, she was hardly aware of it. Then she heard his voice mingling with hers in a new song.
They lay together, as unashamed as shipwrecked voyagers washed up on the same shore. Blaic held her until the last quivers faded from them both. Then, realizing he was lying on her with his full weight, he rolled away. Still holding her hand, he raised it to his lips. “It’s enough to make me wish...”
“What would you wish for?”
“Nothing. I have everything I need in you.”
“That’s the way I feel,” she said, her whisper sleepy.
He moved away just long enough to pull the bed linen over them. Something in the quality of her silence made him turn to look at her. “What is it?”
“You’re not touching me.”
He looked at his hands, then at the length of her body. It was true. He’d moved away only an inch or so in some places, yet nowhere did they touch. “I....”
“Well? Aren’t you going to say it?”
Blaic listened with an inward ear. He heard no voice, felt no demand issuing from his soul. The Ancient Law was silenced. “Ask me for something.”
Felicia looked blank. “I can’t think of anything I want.”
“Try. Ask me for...for fairy gold.”
“You said that brings no luck with it.”
“Ask me anyway.”
“Very well.” She sat up straight, ignoring or unaware of the fact that she was naked. Blaic gazed at her enraptured until she cleared her throat, which forced him to look in her eyes. Smiling at him like Delilah, she said, “Blaic, give me your fairy gold.”
Always before he’d performed what she’d asked. Take her somewhere, jump out a window, it was all the same — he’d had to do it. He’d been forced into it by a power outside himself, stronger than all the People. Now he lay in bed, feeling happy. He’d never felt so at peace.
“No,” he said, grinning at her. “Isn’t that marvelous?”
It was only long after she’d fallen asleep that Blaic had a disquieting thought. Maybe when he was talking to Felicia, looking at her, kissing her, evil thoughts could not intrude — but now one came knocking. What if he had not just lost the Voice of the Law? What if he had lost everything that made him one of the People?
Blaic eased himself out of bed and tried to turn a candle into a lamp. The white wax still burned defiantly. He could not even blow out the flame without using his lips. Had he, in a moment of passion, thrown away the very things that made him who he was?
Chapter Eighteen
“You saw them bury it? But weren’t you...er...stone?”
“Yes, I was, but I wasn’t dead, you realize. It’s as I told you of Ol’ Calm. Although I could not speak to him or move so much as a finger, I could hear him and see him — not always clearly and only so long as he stood in front of me, but I could do it. I overhead many conversations when people thought they were private. I even listened to lessons when a good-natured governess or tutor would bring the children onto the lawn for study.”
“Miss Gamp used to do that,” Felicia said.
“I remember how much trouble you had with Latin grammar,” he said, smiling down on her.
&nbs
p; “You do? My word, you were watching me then? Little did I know ...”
“Little did ‘I know you’d be the one to free me. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned how grateful I am.”
Felicia wound her arms about his neck. “You mentioned it, but I prefer your demonstrations.”
He smoothed his hands over her from shoulder to thigh, reveling in the differing textures and responses of her skin. “You have my gratitude for this as well.”
Felicia knew it was absurd to be shy at this point. She’d given more of herself to Blaic than she would have thought or dreamed possible with any man. Meeting his eyes, knowing they were filled with memories of her wantonness, was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. Her discomfort was eased only slightly by the affection of his glance.
He’d awakened her with a wild tale of family fortunes lost and buried, presented as the solution to all her difficulties. She wanted to focus on what he was saying, but her mind kept wandering to what he was doing with his strong, elegant, callused hands.
Felicia fixed him with her gaze, easier said than done considering how her eyes yearned to close in order to feel his hands more clearly. “You really mean to say that you know where our ancestor hid all his worldly goods?”
“Well, not all of them, naturally. The box I saw was too small to contain furniture. But they carried it together as though it were remarkably heavy. I recognized Viscount Stavely and his man creeping across the lawn. The master seemed more frightened than the servant. I saw that the good viscount’s hands shook as though he had a fever.”
“Perhaps he had. It wouldn’t be from fear. Considering the circumstances of his life, I can hardly think of him as a coward.”
Her father had told her of Roderick, a none-too-gallant cavalier in the time of the Civil War. Instead of sending his fortune to his king to raise an army, he’d supposedly buried everything — coins, jewelry, plate—somewhere in the garden when Cromwell’s army came through Devon. Only his valet knew of this shameful deed, and he succumbed to the measles before he could tell a soul.
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