Cheeks hot, Gaithlin met his amused gaze. “Until the death, if necessary.”
“I assure you, it will not be necessary. I will surrender willingly.”
He resumed his advance and Gaithlin moved away from him, around the bed. “Get out,” she hissed. “I do not want you here. Go and take your gowns with you.”
She was fully prepared for another suggestive retort. Instead, Kelvin leapt onto the bed and, using it as a launch-board, propelled himself against her. With a startled cry, Gaithlin found herself slammed against the wall by his superior weight. Off-balance and off-guard, she stumbled over her clumsy feet and fell to her ground with nearly two hundred pounds of male flesh pressed atop her.
Horror and fury surged through her veins as she struggled against Kelvin’s weight, heavy and ungiving against her supple body. His hands, large and strong, moved to trap her flailing arms.
“I like this game,” he grunted, catching an open palm against his neck. “You are quite good at it.”
Aghast as well as terrified, Gaithlin’s struggles increased against his supreme male power. She had been able to subdue Christian and his men when they had come for her in the abbey purely for the fact that she had managed to catch them off guard. Unfortunately, the situation was turned against her at the moment; Kelvin’s surprise attack had startled her long enough for him to gain the advantage. He had trapped her.
Gaithlin was fully aware when he pinned one arm above her head, followed very shortly by the other. Although she was strong for a woman, she simply wasn’t powerful enough against Kelvin’s brute strength. As she thrashed furiously, he threw his entire body weight atop her to prevent her from pitching him off. Breathing with exertion and excitement, his flushed face loomed an inch above her own as he gazed into startled deep blue eyes.
“You are my captive, Lady Gaithlin,” he growled, his stinking breath hot on her face. “Surrender to me and I will be merciful.”
Her head lolled away from him, averting her reeling senses from his repugnant sense of excitement. “Get off me, you bastard. I have no interest in playing your demented game!”
He cocked an eyebrow, his smile fading somewhat. “Bastard, am I? I beg to differ. My heritage is long and legitimate,” he leaned sideways, attempting to look her in the face. “Pray, Lady Gaithlin, can the same be said for you? Tell me who you truly are, you delectably naughty wench.”
Lips pressed tight and eyes focused on the wall beside her head, Gaithlin refused to answer. Smiling, Kelvin licked her ear and she shrieked in fear and disgust, her slender body bucking and twisting in a vain attempt to dislodge him.
“Tell me, Gaithlin,” he purred, licking her again. “Tell me who you are.”
She yelped when his tongue stroked her cheek, biting her lip to keep from screaming in full-blown panic. Grunting with the force of his body weight, she made a feeble attempt to shake her head.
“No!”
Kelvin laughed softly, moving to dropping sensual kisses on her neck, kisses that frightened Gaithlin deeply. They were nothing like the erotic gestures delivered by Christian, steamy and passionate and utterly wonderful. They were unnerving, nauseating. Yet the more she struggled, the bolder his kisses became.
Trapped and terrified, Gaithlin struggled to rein her horror. Fighting for lucidity, she forced herself to come to terms with the fact that there was no way to out-power Kelvin; clearly, he was superior in size and strength. Therefore, the only way to disable him or discourage him would be to catch him off his guard, just as he had surprised her by his unexpected attack. And the only way to catch him unaware would be to cease her resistance.
Forcing herself to calm was mayhap the hardest struggle she had yet to face. His kisses were running along the base of her throat, sending chills of disgust down her spine, but she wrestled against the bile in her throat in order to focus on the next step in her deception – convincing him she would accept his onslaught.
Kelvin felt her slender, womanly body relax underneath him and his bold smile returned as he nibbled on her delicate jawline. The tapered fingers that he held captive over her head went limp as he convinced her of his pleasurable intent. Releasing his hold on her wrists as he was assured victory in their adult game, his large hands moved to grip her head. Fingers intertwined within her silken blond hair, he attempted to kiss her lips.
But Gaithlin would not allow him access to her delectably ripe morsels. Turning her head, Kelvin’s mouth came to bear on her ear again. But it didn’t seem to matter to him; moaning with the pleasure of her tender, responsive body, his tongue obscenely stroking the interior of her ear. Shivering in repulsion that Kelvin interpreted as desire, she shifted slightly underneath him and reluctantly brought her hands up to touch his arms. Thick, broad arms, but not nearly as large as Christian’s. Kelvin’s aggressive touch was nothing like the bold onslaught from her captor that had literally melted her senses.
Both attacks had been unexpected, yet one had been so overwhelmingly magnificent that to compare it to Kelvin’s amateur attempt nearly brought a smile to her lips. She found herself wishing it were Christian who lay atop her, searing her innocent faculties with more emotion and sensuality than she ever realized existed.
But Christian was nowhere to be found as Kelvin covered her delicious body with his grunting and writhing. As Kelvin made another attempt to kiss her, she knew what had to be done and she furthermore knew that she would only have one chance. Gaithlin might have been romantically innocent, but she was innately cunning. She had a plan to stop his onslaught once and for all.
As Kelvin’s mouth came close to her lips but again, she put her soft hand over his seeking lips in an attempt to gain his attention. As she hoped, his inquisitive, lusty gaze met with eyes of deep blue and she made an attempt to smile seductively.
“The floor is hurting my back,” she whispered, listening to the quake in her voice and praying he did not take notice. “Might we move to the… bed?”
He kissed her fingers. “Of course.” Pushing himself up, he rocked to his heels, studying her in the faint firelight as she propped herself onto shaking elbows. After a lengthy moment, he cocked his head with thought. “Tell me who you are, Gaithlin. I promise I shall not tell Maggie.”
She looked him in the eye although she was quite aware that his tender testicles were looming directly over her pointed boot. The target she was hoping for.
Her bravery fed, she cocked an eyebrow. “Would you truly like to know?” she asked, her sultry voice sending shivers of excitement down Kelvin’s spine. When he nodded eagerly, she shifted slightly so that her boot was located in a prime spot beneath his parted thighs. When he rose to his knees in anticipation of regaining his footing, she could not have wished for better positioning.
“Very well,” she replied softly, making sure to look into his eyes. “I will tell you so that you will know, exactly, who has given you the most memorable night of your life.”
“Yes? Yes?” he panted.
She smiled, a beautifully seductive gesture. “Do you truly wish to know?”
“Yes!” he practically shouted. “Tell me and be done with it! I cannot wait for your tender fruits any longer!”
“I will not make you wait any longer,” she cocked a completely erotic eyebrow, unaware of the fact that she was playing adult games far better than most seasoned adults. For her, the seduction and roleplaying came naturally. “My name is de Gare. Gaithlin de Gare.”
It didn’t matter that she broke her promise to Christian at that very moment; she wanted Kelvin to know the name of the woman who would most likely damage him for life. Gathering her strength, she brought up the pointed toe of her boot and carved a blistering path of pain and anguish into the sacs that would continue the Howard Family line.
The furious shock of her action was not enough to offset the instant, searing pressure. Reflexively, Kelvin yelped a startled cry and attempted to move away from her; still, she continued to plunge her toe deep into his aroused manhoo
d. Her foot followed him as he sprawled to the wooden floor, driving hard, bringing inconceivable pain and relishing every agonizing moment he was suffering at her hands.
‘Blood and Heart give life,
not of the same variety.
Blood can be depleted;
yet the Heart sustains for eternity.’
~ Chronicles of Christian St. John
Vl. V, pg CCL
CHAPTER SIX
Gaithlin’s eyes beheld Kelvin for an eternal moment as the man fell to his buttocks on the wooded slats, his gaze wide with complete shock as her boot remained buried in his swollen crotch. The full effects of the pain had yet to sink in as Gaithlin lurched away from him, leapt to unsteady feet as her deep blue eyes blazed with terror and fury.
“I hope you die from your pain, you bastard,” she seethed, her body quaking with fright. “I hope you die and I hope your anguish lingers the entire heated journey to Hell’s depths.”
He opened his mouth to retort when the complete brunt of the agony descended upon him and the lips that had so recently assaulted Gaithlin were suddenly screaming their suffering with such ferocity that the very walls reverberated with the anguish. Hell’s depths might have been preferable to the anguish of the lady’s brutal betrayal.
Covert betrayal or not, Gaithlin had no desire to be near the screaming, invalid man as he proceeded to vomit his sup over the clean wooden boards. Shaken to the point of very nearly becoming incapacitated herself, she crawled over the bed in her hasty attempt to move away from him. Now that the deed was done, she was desperate to be free of his presence. She had to find Christian; she knew he would help her. The St. John would protect his de Gare captive.
Gasping with fright, she barely made it to the door when the wooden panel was suddenly being shoved open, slamming against the supporting wall and nearly smashing her in the process. The very next thing she was aware of was massive hands clamping down on her tender arms.
“Gaithlin!” It was Christian. “What in the hell…?”
Verging on tears, Gaithlin attempting to answer when Kelvin suddenly rattled off another piercing scream. Baffled and startled by the unearthly howling, Christian pulled Gaithlin into a protective embrace as his former friend writhed about on the floor. But he was not so preoccupied with his hysterical friend that he did not notice Gaithlin’s death-grip about his waist.
The entire house and hold was becoming aware of Kelvin’s screams and Christian could hear rapid footfalls approaching down the corridor. Stunned but not witless, he pulled Gaithlin into the room with him and shut the door, keeping one arm around his quivering captive as he lodged the iron bolt. Watching Kelvin vomit more bile and a portion of blood, he attempted to collect his swirling thoughts.
“What happened?” he demanded, struggling to keep his tone calm; she was already deeply shaken and he had no desire to upset her further.
Face buried in his tunic, she visibly wrestled with her fright. “He… he came to my room bearing dresses. And then he tried… he threw me to the floor and… oh, Christian, he thought I was your mistress and he demanded that I….”
Christian understood a great deal in her halting, panting explanation. But it still did not allude as to why Kelvin was squirming on the floor like a madman, expelling the contents of his innards. “What did you do to him, honey? Why is he vomiting blood?”
Her head came up, focusing on his ice-blue orbs, and he was physically impacted by the fear in her eyes. “I kicked him in his manhood as hard as I could.”
He stared at her a moment before allowing his gaze to drift to Kelvin. Having nothing left in his stomach, the man was currently experiencing a round of the dry heaves and Christian found he had absolutely no sympathy for the idiot foolish enough to tangle with Gaithlin de Gare. In fact, he repressed the powerful urge to do further damage on the lady’s behalf.
After a lengthy, disgusted moment, he returned his attention to the woman clutched against his chest. Drained both physically and emotionally, her head resting against his chest, she had turned away from the scene at hand and he shook her gently to regain her attention.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his rich voice oddly tight.
She shook her head, refocusing her attention on him. He was towering over her, enveloping her in a crushing embrace, and Gaithlin swore at that very moment she had never felt so safe or protected in her entire life, St. John or no.
“He did not hurt me,” she whispered, noticing the delicious curve of his lips and the marvelously smooth texture. “But I think I have killed him.”
He smiled faintly, a gesture she found to be utterly beautiful and comforting. “Nay, you did not kill him, but I am sure he wishes he were dead.”
She continued to stare into his eyes, nearly distracted from the crisis at hand as she studied his incredible face. “When he regains his senses, he will demand the right to punish me,” her low voice was a raspy whisper; she found his full lips to be diverting and she struggled to maintain her focus. “Mayhap it would be best if we leave. Now.”
He cocked an eyebrow, thinking heavily on kissing her again in spite of the moaning going on about them and the commotion in the hall beyond. “It’s pouring rain. Moreover, I doubt Kelvin will be demanding your head before the night is out. We can still enjoy a warm bed and leave at daybreak.”
Tearing her eyes from him, she focused reluctantly on the now-still, groaning figure crumpled on the floor. “I fear he’ll come for me regardless. He knows my name.”
Christian was silent a moment as her words sank deep, feeling a disturbing twinge of betrayal at her greater implication. “What do you mean?”
“I told him my name,” she whispered, attempting to pull free of Christian’s embrace. “He demanded I tell him and I did… immediately before I kicked him.”
When she pulled away from him, he somehow felt as if a portion of his body had been ripped free. Suddenly, he didn’t feel entirely whole any longer. But his sense of loss at the moment was weak compared to his rising fury with Gaithlin’s admission.
“You promised me that you would not reveal your identity, my lady,” he said.
She heard his tone and it was infinitely disturbing. Wide eyes, apologetic and as blue as the deepest waters, gazed at him. “And I had every intention of keeping my pledge, sire, truly. It was never my purpose to betray my word. But I was frightened and caught up in the heat of the moment and….” She shook her head, genuinely remorseful. “I am sorry, Christian. My promises are usually infinitely more substantial than my display has led you to believe.”
Hands on hips, he met her gaze steadily as he pondered her words. In truth, he understood her explanation completely; using Gaithlin’s panic against her, Kelvin had forced the truth from her and she had retaliated by driving her foot into his family treasure. But regardless of the fact that he found himself in complete agreement with her actions, he would not so readily allow her to believe that he would instantly forgive the breach of a strongly-held vow.
“Time will tell, my lady,” he said quietly, eyeing Kelvin when the man groaned again. Taking a deep breath as he returned to the immediate problem, he continued to ignore the weak pounding at the door and the soft demands for entry. “For tonight, I believe you shall sleep in my room. I would assume that Kelvin wishes to be left alone.”
Gaithlin’s gaze trailed to Kelvin once more, wondering if she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life running from a vengeful, impotent man. But she did not regret her actions nor the method utilized in the least; indeed, it had been necessary. Nodding faintly, she climbed over the bed with the intent of collecting Christian’s cloak on the opposite side. Having fallen off during the struggle, it lay upon the floor in a discarded heap.
Christian watched her as she crept over the large canopied bed, observing the gowns she mashed beneath her knees. As Gaithlin nearly tripped off the bed in her attempt to regain Christian’s cloak, he made his way to the mattress and scrutinized the garments displayed.<
br />
“Is this what he brought you?” when she nodded, he fingered the red gown. “Hmm. Quite lovely. And quite expensive.”
Clutching the cloak to her breast, she gazed at the gowns with such longing that Christian felt a tug to his heart. It occurred to him that if the de Gares were barely able to provide themselves with adequate sustenance, then the extravagance of fine clothes were completely out of the question. Without hesitation, he scooped up the five heavy garments and motioned for Gaithlin to make her way over the bed.
“Come along, my lady,” he held out his hand, steadying her as she walked over the mattress. “The hour grows late and we have a long journey on the morrow.”
“What are you doing with those gowns?” she asked, jumping from the bed to the floor beside him.
He continued to hold her hand. “What does it look like? I intend to accept Kelvin’s offering on your behalf. By accepting these dresses, we forgive him for his most aggressive actions towards you.”
She cocked a slow eyebrow. “We forgive him?”
The grip on her hand tightened, naked flesh against naked flesh. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he moved to his crumpled bygone friend, pulling Gaithlin along with him and making sure she didn’t step in the vomit and blood as he bent low to look the man in the face.
Eyes closed, Kelvin was pale and breathing rapidly. Christian resisted the urge to laugh in his face for his brazen stupidity.
“Do you hear me, Kelvin?” he said. “I accept your apology for attacking my lady. And we shall hear no more about it.”
With a faint groan, Kelvin’s deep green eyes fluttered open, focusing on Christian. “You… you bastard,” he rasped, spittle forming on his lips. “Get out of my keep and take your bitch with you.”
All of the calm fled from Christian’s face. Gowns still clutched in one arm, he released Gaithlin’s hand and grasped Kelvin by the front of his stained tunic. Yet before he could inflict any more damage against him, Gaithlin grasped him firmly by the arm.
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