The Heartwood Box: A Fairy Tale

by Lilia Ford

  Genevieve saw something in his expression because her eyes widened with alarm, which only fueled his need. He shoved a cushion under her hips and pinned her wrists above her head. “I am going to take you now,” he growled. “Deep and hard.”

  Her eyes glazed with desire, though she was still wary, which pleased him. She should be wary.

  He thrust in hard, growling with satisfaction at the rightness of it. He shifted her wrists to his right hand and used his left to pull her leg over his hip so he could go even deeper. He began driving into her, shocked at the violence of his need. He was pounding her so hard, their heads edged dangerously close to the wooden headboard. “Grip the headboard—brace yourself!” he ordered, releasing her wrists.

  He wrapped his hand around her hair and forced her head back so he could kiss her vulnerable neck. He realized he had left a mark, which caused something to snap. Suddenly his mouth was everywhere on her throat, her breasts, her chest, as he left at least a dozen love bites on her fragile skin.

  Genevieve would be furious, which didn’t bother him a bit. More importantly, he knew the moment they saw the marks, his brothers would know what they meant—that Damian was her master, and they touched her only at his sufferance.

  Neither of them would dare mark her like that—only him.

  He took her mouth again, feeling that she was building to her climax. He tightened his grip on her hair. “Keep your eyes on me,” he ordered. “This orgasm is mine!”

  Genevieve’s whole body shuddered, but her desire was amply mixed with apprehension. Fear made her fight the climax, but his wife could never resist being dominated.

  “You are mine, Genevieve,” he snarled. “Say it! My brothers can touch you, but you answer to me!”

  “Damian!” she begged.

  “Say it,” he growled harshly.

  “I’m yours,” she cried.

  “You obey me—say it now, or I won’t let you come.”

  He knew it was only the frenzy of lust that made her gasp, “I obey you.”

  “Good girl—come now!” He shifted in a way he knew she wouldn’t be able to resist and roared with satisfaction to feel her convulsing helplessly as she cried out his name. His pumping became frantic then as he slammed into her, bringing himself to his own climax.

  As he relaxed and the fury of possessiveness receded, he realized that he’d just behaved like a crazed animal. He clutched her to him. “Gods, Genevieve, I didn’t mean…. Can you forgive me?”

  Genevieve reached for his face and pulled him close for a gentle kiss. She looked perfectly happy. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything as beautiful. “No,” she said smiling. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Genevieve was completely sincere when she promised there was nothing to forgive. She understood why Damian had attacked her, and she couldn’t complain about the result when he brought her to such raptures.

  However, she was less pleased when she noticed the result of those passionate kisses. “What is this?” she exclaimed.

  “Love bites. I already apologized, love. I’m afraid in the heat of the moment….” He shrugged apologetically, but his expression was pure masculine triumph.

  “How long will these last?” she demanded, incensed by his smugness.

  “I’m not sure—perhaps a day or so.”

  “Or so?”

  “It might be a week,” he admitted.

  “A week! I can’t go out like this!”

  He rolled over on top of her, thumbing her breasts and pushing his leg between hers. “We can always stay here. I was hoping we could eat in tonight, just the two of us,” he murmured between little kisses along the edge of her ear. Her completely disloyal body began humming with desire as her infernal husband well knew.

  When it was time for dinner, Genevieve found she had even more reason to wish she’d not forgiven Damian so easily. When she tried to stand, her ankle gave out. It turned out she’d strained it falling out of that blasted tree. Damian practically pounced on her. All signs of the apologetic lover vanished like smoke in a high wind, and his despotic side returned in force.

  “Why on earth were you in a tree?” he demanded as he examined the swelling.

  “I wanted the cherries, and there were no more on the lower branches.”

  “And so you must climb high enough to break your neck?”

  “It wasn’t that high!” she protested. “And Donal dared me.” Genevieve instantly realized that was the wrong thing to say.

  “He dared you! I hope Derek beats him to a pulp!”

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of it. He helped her over to the little table and then noticed that she was also having trouble sitting. He pulled her to stand and lifted her skirt up. “What happened here? You’ve had three days to heal!”

  “It’s not what you think,” she squeaked.

  “Genevieve, you have no idea what I think. What did I say about answering my questions?”

  “It wasn’t Donal—at least—you see, Declan got me this beautiful horse—named Mist—and Donal told me to climb on, just for a few minutes….”

  “You climbed on—you mean bareback—without a saddle or bridle?”

  “Well it is a Fae horse,” she argued. “Even without a saddle….”

  “I don’t need to hear about the merits of Fae horses, Genevieve,” he said sternly. “Don’t even try to pretend to me. This happened in more than a few minutes. Now I will have the truth right now. Did Donal tell you to get off or not?”

  “Fine. Declan told us we should enjoy ourselves as much as possible before the two more tyrannical brothers returned. But it seems that Donal can be as despotic as either of you when the mood strikes him.”

  Damian shook his head, his expression dangerous.

  “Damian!” she cried.

  “No—this is too much. You cannot possibly imagine I would ignore this.”

  “I forgave you for pounding into me and then behaving like a hound marking his territory!”

  “And that was very sweet of you, but I am not you. Fortunately, I know the perfect punishment.”

  “What?”

  “That I will save as a little surprise for later,” he said, pulling her in for a thorough kiss that left her lightheaded. “Frankly, you should be glad I am not sending you to Derek.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Wouldn’t I? I see now that he is exactly what you need.”

  “That’s just what Donal said,” she grumbled, wondering if perhaps she might come to regret this new spirit of cooperation between the brothers.

  “I’m not surprised. Now can you sit in that chair, or shall we play our favorite game by the divan, because I have no objection whatsoever to feeding you while you are on your knees.”

  “And now you sound like Derek,” she huffed.

  He laughed, his voice rich and relaxed, as he served her up a generous helping of her new favorite dish, Roderick’s creamed chicken, this time served with delicate herbed crepes and some lovely green beans with butter and a hint of tarragon.

  He poured them each a glass of chilled white wine and then said, “So speaking of Derek, I really do need to know everything, darling, and please, no apologies. Just tell me what happened.”

  So she did, becoming more and more comfortable as it became clear that Damian did not seem hurt or disturbed by anything she was saying. “I truly don’t know how long it had been when Donal found us,” she said at the end of it. “I can’t explain it, but my thoughts were very disordered. I think Derek was apprehensive about my state—at least that’s what I recall.”

  “Thank you,” he said feelingly. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your openness with me, Genevieve. I will do everything in my power to be as open with you.”

  “I want you to be, Damian. I hate worrying about what you’re feeling.”

  “Come, let’s sit by the hearth. I find I need to hold my beautiful wife,” he murmured.

&nb
sp; He led her to one of the armchairs and pulled her in to sit on his lap. He just clutched her for a few minutes, as if he wanted to reassure himself she was still there, still his.

  Finally, he said, “I don’t think it’s news to you that I was not comfortable with the state you were in the other day. I am well aware that my behavior was completely inexcusable.” He stopped her when she tried to interrupt. “Please hear me out, darling—I need to say this. It took me several days to make some sense of it, but it is clear that in addition to feeling horribly guilty about our quarrel, I suffered a bout of lunatic possessiveness and jealousy towards Derek. I could not have handled it worse and you suffered terribly for that, and I am truly, truly sorry for it.”

  “I know,” she murmured. “Please, don’t apologize. Please.”

  He looked at her a bit too knowingly and then kissed her nose. “I won’t say any more on that. However, we still have the issue of your state. Understand I am not speaking of the need for punishment itself, or the fact that Derek is the one who can satisfy it for you. I am speaking only of your state afterwards, and the truth is that I am not comfortable with it. So far, you have needed three days of healing, during which even a few minutes on a horse set you back another few days. I would give anything to take you riding, but I can’t until you are fully healed, and even more seriously, I cannot possibly spank you myself now….”

  Genevieve slapped his arm.

  “I’m jesting. I do not mean to make some proclamation for all time, but I am hoping there is a way to meet this need without leaving you in that state. I want you to tell me how you feel about what I’m saying.”

  “Declan spoke to me. He did not like it that I did not stop Derek sooner. I don’t think I could have—I don’t understand why I didn’t. I don’t mean to defy you, or make problems with Derek….”

  “Shhh, love. I’ll tell you what I am thinking, Genevieve. I am not going to interfere between you and Derek. If you provoke him, whatever the motive, you must be prepared to accept the consequences of his temper—no different than Donal when he used to provoke Derek. I will use the riding as a rule of thumb. Unless he clears it with me first, he will not administer any punishment that leaves you unable to ride a horse the following day. Does that seem fair to you?”

  “Yes.” She felt an odd sense of relief. She desperately wanted to avoid being the cause of conflict between Damian and Derek, and she felt Damian’s objections were reasonable and well within his rights as her husband. The problem was that she didn’t trust herself to say no to Derek. She agreed with Declan that she must set limits, but there was a kind of madness between her and Derek, and she could see matters going too far without someone to stop them.

  “Excellent.” He kissed her and then shifted her off his lap onto the chair. As he walked towards the dressing room, he said, “That leaves only the matter of your punishment for behaving so irresponsibly.”

  “Damian! No!”

  He returned holding the green leather cuffs. “I’m sorry, darling, but it would send exactly the wrong message for me to ignore your risking your neck by tumbling out of trees or riding a horse when you haven’t even healed up yet. Hold out your wrists, please.”

  “Fine!” she grumbled.

  He got a glint in his eye that made her want to hide under the bed. “Here is my decree: from now on, you will submit like a good girl to sleeping bound to the bed and you will not make any fuss.”

  “From now on!” she said breathlessly.

  “When you sleep in this bed, you sleep bound. It will serve as a daily reminder of how I will react if I find you risking yourself like that.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Genevieve and Damian spent most of the next day in their bedroom. Damian argued that they were owed the rest of their honeymoon, and Genevieve was just as eager as he could be for time together.

  Fortunately her ankle was better, so Damian had no excuse to keep her locked up. He was as despotic as always, but he grudgingly agreed to visit Mist at the stables and even suggested that they eat a picnic lunch in the garden.

  Genevieve was more willing to spend most of the time in their bedroom when she made an unexpected discovery: she did not feel comfortable being intimate with Damian in the garden. Somehow, that space had become Donal’s, just as the bath was Damian’s.

  Surprisingly, she did not feel any awkwardness when Donal joined them for the picnic. Outside of their bedroom, Damian did not engage in the endless fondling that he did at other times. She realized it was his way of respecting the garden as her domain.

  Donal also didn’t try to touch her, even when Damian left them alone for a few minutes. It was only after the picnic was over that she grasped how relieved she was. Donal was showing his usual perceptiveness. It was tacitly understood that these days were Damian’s, and Donal would not put her in the position of having to choose between them or somehow be intimate with both of them at the same time, which was frankly unimaginable to her.

  She wished she could feel the same relief about Derek’s absence. But she was growing more and more uneasy about him though she tried her best not to let Damian see. She’d not seen Derek once since she fell out of the tree, and she got the decided impression he was avoiding her.

  She knew Damian must resume a more regular schedule with the garrison in two days. Though she’d agreed to this unusual arrangement—happily agreed—she’d no idea how it would work in practice. At least as far as intimacy went, she knew what to expect with Donal and Damian, but Derek was a different matter.

  When it came to the point, she’d spent very little time with Derek, and the few hours they had been alone together had been among the most tumultuous and emotionally wrenching of her life.

  How on earth was she to share a bed with a man she’d yet to have a civil conversation with?

  The next day was Damian’s last before he must leave for four days. He suggested that they take advantage of the beautiful weather to have another picnic, which Genevieve happily agreed to.

  He’d not mentioned whether Derek would attend, but Genevieve did check his little room on their corridor and then the dining room and study, hoping that they could at least speak for a few minutes. Of course she saw no sign of him.

  However her worry for Derek was quickly eclipsed by a more immediate concern. As she crossed the conservatory to get to the garden, she saw something that almost made her faint: a pianoforte now occupied the corner.

  She silently cursed her meddling brother—and Peter Crane, who had undoubtedly informed Donal of everything he knew or suspected of her crisis four years ago. Her only question was how much Donal had told Damian. She hoped he’d said nothing and decided he’d probably said as little as possible.

  It took her a minute to regain her composure enough to go closer. She could tell at a glance that the instrument was first-rate and must have cost an absolute fortune—it was much finer than the one her parents had scrimped to purchase all those years ago, which she’d so wantonly destroyed.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she saw the body was constructed of cherry. Who other than Donal would do this?

  Her eyes began streaming—apparently it would be crying not laughing. They should dub her Genevieve the perpetual watering pot, she thought crossly.

  “Play the piece your father played at the wedding.”

  Donal was standing in the entrance—of course. As if she could hope to hide something from him. She gnawed her lip, wondering if she could actually bring herself to touch it.

  “You….” She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “You really don’t understand, Donal.”

  “I do, better than you might imagine,” he said softly. “Derek is my brother.”

  She closed her eyes tightly. She would not start sobbing.

  “One song,” he added. “And then I promise, say the word, and I’ll have it removed by tomorrow.”

  She forced herself to brush her hands along the elegant curve of its rim. Was the
re any more perfect shape in the world than the curve of a pianoforte? It was so sensuous.

  How could she have forgotten how beautiful it was?

  Enough.

  Donal was right. One song.

  She sat down and immediately began to play.

  For the first minute, she played without thinking, allowing her fingers to flit lightly over the keys by rote. But Genevieve could never play anything by rote for long. Music had always seemed like a living thing to her, constantly evolving and adapting, becoming something different with each musician, each instrument, each performance.

  Inevitably, it was as if the song found its way into the muscles of her hands. Once there, it could no longer remain fixed. New dimensions began unfolding, new possibilities.

  And as she’d found since that fateful, cursed day, no matter how she fought it, those dimensions were dark—dissonant, strange, difficult.

  She couldn’t bear to appear cowardly before Donal, so she allowed the piece to develop fully, to go where it would. When it finally came to the end, she forced herself to look at him. His expression was the last thing she might have expected.

  He looked… angry. Furious. Donal, who never got angry.

  “I take back my promise,” he said, his voice literally quaking with emotion. “I won’t get rid of it. If you give up playing again, I’ll throttle you.”

  He walked out into the garden, leaving Genevieve utterly stunned.

  Chapter Thirty

  Damian had only been back two days and he already wanted to kill Derek.

  In almost every way, the past two days with Genevieve had been glorious. She was growing more confident with him, and their lovemaking was everything that was passionate and tender.

  But now their honeymoon was coming to an end. He had to leave the next morning, and he knew Genevieve was anxious though she tried to hide it from him. It was no puzzle that Derek was the cause: Derek who’d not shown his face once since their arrival home.