by Arms, Angie
His lips were tender, as were his hands as they touched her, caressed her. His lips clamped around her nipple and she shuddered, her back arching upward off the bed only to have him press her back down. Pleased apparently with her response both her breasts became involved in his ministrations, he caressed them, plumped them, and squeezed them while his tongue and lips traced paths of sheer pleasure from one nipple to another. He moved away from her, the loss of his heat created such a fear in her that the passion was over, she cried out.
“Don’t leave me.”
He rolled off the bed and stared down at her lying naked before him on the furs. She made no move to cover herself but stared boldly at him hoping beyond all hope he would come back to her and finish what he started.
“This will change nothing,” he said with an edge to his voice. “I still have my vow to the king.”
She rolled toward him, propping her head on her hand and studied him for a moment. “I would never ask you to betray your vow. I only ask one thing of you.”
She watched him raise his head a notch, his nostrils flaring. Did he think she would ask him to allow her to escape? Did he still not know her well enough to know he would not see her run from the charges sat before her? She closed her eyes for a moment against the pain as she realized they would never have a chance to know one another better. After tonight Damien would be off to serve his king and she would meet her fate head on. Strangely her pain came from the fear Damien would die in battle serving his king, a man who did not deserve it. When she opened her eyes again it was to see gray-green eyes watching her intently.
“When you reach Bewcastle tell my father I love him and tell him he did nothing that needs forgiving.”
Damien nodded.
“I also have another request to ask of you.” The greenness of his eyes was kind as he looked down upon her. “I don’t want to go to my fait knowing the touch of only one man.”
His eyes darkened and the gray took over as he began to remove his tunic. She rose to help but with one shake of his head she settled back down to wait with foreign patience.
“I want you to lay with me Sir Damien Le Forte. I want you as I have never wanted another,” the last word was followed by the accompanying sound of his braies tearing as he hurried out of them.
What followed was a storm so powerful to her senses she found herself lost in all but Damien. What the morning would bring did not matter for with the dawn of tomorrow she would have the memory of the night to sustain her for all the nights to come. He claimed her body with sweet abandon. His hands were rough, unlike a few moments before but she found no pain in their urgency. She found she relished in each touch, each kiss, each graze of his teeth, and each flick of his tongue. She writhed under him as he moved from her lips to her breasts and lower.
Her body ached for something but all he wrought from her were thrills stacked on one another until her head spun and she could do not but cling to him. When his tongue flicked across the bud at the secret juncture of her legs she nearly shot from the bed. Bryson had never done anything of that nature but it brought such promise her fingers dug involuntarily into his hair as she rode the waves he created. He was a master at what he did until she felt herself on a precipice that left her moaning and arching into him for more. It was with a shattering cry, her fingers digging deep in his scalp as she met his mouth that she felt herself explode, shooting toward the heavens to come crashing back down to feel a finger entering her and it all began again. She felt she must be drained after crying his name and clinging to him for what seemed only a moment but must have stretched further for the fire in the hearth had died down but he still touched her, worked more cries from her.
Then he was moving over her and she quickly wrapped her arms tightly around him, her legs came up to wrap around his waist. He entered her fiercely and a gasp escaped to mingle with the moan that came from him, how could anything feel as glorious as him. He slammed in and out of her and she found her body moving with his, then against his, and then with him again, each sending a different sensation cascading through her. It was a frenzied mating, nearly brutal in its intensity but not as much as the release that echoed in his roar and matched her cry of pure pleasure. She crashed back down to feel him wrap her in his arms and then she slept.
Sometime in the night he awoke her again and this time their mating was as gentle as the last one was violent. He touched her so lightly, each caress a gentle feather, each breath a moist heat that drove her mad with needing him. There release together was such a blissful union she felt herself cry as he wrapped her in his arms again.
Dawn came and with it so did reality. Damien was not in the chamber and she became frightened he had already left without even a goodbye. But wouldn’t that be better, she wondered lying within the warmth of the blankets, his scent all around her. The door opened and the two brothers came in. Cyrille carried a gown, its crimson color was familiar and she knew at least some of her garments had been saved from Langley. This gown was simple in design but was made of expensive crimson silk overlaid with black lace and trim. It was by far her favorite.
“I have sent Waverly and Kenet away,” Damien began. “Richard does not know they still live.”
“Thank you,” she said her throat tightening for she would never see her children again and she never got to tell them goodbye, never got to kiss them one last time.
“I have arranged for you to take one of my horses so you do not have to walk the three days to get there.” Turning Damien took the gown from Cyrille and lay it on the bed. “This was brought from Langley, and though these shoes are not fashionable with such a fine dress they will stand up better and protect your feet better for your journey.” He sat a pair of boots that appeared to have been made for smaller feet.
Keri sat up, dragging a blanket up to her chin while doing so. How caring this man had become in such a short time. She did not think last night alone contributed to his thoughtfulness. He made to say something else but apparently thought better of it and fell silent.
“We’ll give you time to get dressed then send someone up with food to break your fast,” Cyrille said.
“You don’t have much time,” Damien advised then the two brothers left.
Going about the task quickly she was just pulling on the last shoe when a nock came on the door and Edwin entered with food. “My lady,” the boy said sitting it on the table. “I have put food, water and warm blankets on your horse to help you in your journey.”
“Thank your Edwin,” she said a lump forming in her throat she quickly swallowed before the tears began to flow.
He left her alone and she found despite a lack of hunger she ate anyway for the long journey ahead. When the door banged open she shot to her feet to see three strange knights standing in the entryway. One held a sword already in hand while another held manacles. He advanced on her and she stood her ground. The three men were obviously frightened for when she raised her hands to have the chains placed on them they all jumped back a step. The iron was heavy, the chain even heavier weighing down her arms. These were not made especially for her but were made to hold a full grown man and she cringed thinking who else had been led to their death in them.
As they pulled her along the corridor and down the steps she wondered why Damien had not come again. Had he already left? The coward, she thought bitterly than felt guilt for he was anything but. Out to the courtyard and right to the horse Damien had promised. She had been moved to a mounting block making it easier to mount with the chains and gown. Once settled she looked about herself for familiar faces and saw none. Her heart sank, she saw none of Damien’s knights and knew he must have left Haltwhistle.
One of the men led her by the manacles, forcing her to keep a good pace beside him so she wasn’t yanked from the saddle. As they rode through the portcullis she locked eyes with Damien’s man Garrick, his face was expressionless, his dark eyes cold. Then he looked away and she followed his gaze and she spotted him as they rode
out into the road. He sat on the hill to her left, his army spread out behind him. Was it just a short time ago this man brought fear to her? He watched her, too far away for her to read his expression. This is better, she thought knowing how difficult it would have been to stand before him and say goodbye. It would be impossible without making herself a crying fool.
She looked upon him until the pace and the twist of her neck made her turn forward again. Tears pricked her eyes but she would not let them fall. She remembered his warmth, his touch and drew her strength from that for what was to come.
~ ~ ~ ~
Damien felt like a coward sitting on the hill watching Keri ride away. When had he ever been afraid to face something head on? He knew well enough if he came within reach of her all his good sense would flee and they would be in quite a predicament because he would have no choice but to kill the king’s men and flee with her. It would be a ridiculous move to make.
Once she was out of sight he hoped it would be easier to turn away but it wasn’t. Perhaps it became harder because each step toward their destination was that much farther he would be getting from her. He spurred Phantom knowing he had no choice but to go. No choice, repeated inside his head to the rhythm of his horse’s hooves.
They made rapid progress toward Bewcastle though frigid the sunny day only seemed to darken his mood. The entire world should be in mourning with him. Cyrille kept his distance throughout the morning allowing his brother time to brood. By midday the weather took a drastic turn and clouds gathered blacking out the sun, as the wind shifted Damien smelled rain and knew a storm was upon them. He pulled his men off the road and set up a hasty camp. The rain began to pour down upon them and the temperature plummeted with the setting of the sun. Snow fell heavy, blanketing and freezing the wet ground underneath. Travel would be treacherous and for once he was not bothered by their lack of progress for the weather would have slowed the king’s men down as well. It would buy a few more hours, precious time for Damien to figure out how best to save this woman he knew he had to save the first time he saw her on the battlements at Langley. It seemed as if their time together had flown between them but very little time had indeed passed too small an amount for an entire lifetime to be crammed into.
Before the first light of dawn streaked the sky Damien was jolted from his sleep. What had awakened him? The cold was prevalent but that alone in the shelter would not have been enough to wake him. Then he heard it again, the unmistakable sound of the rush of feet. “To arms!” Damien belted at the top of his lungs as he rolled to his feet, grabbing his sword he scrambled from the shelter, behind Cyrille, both men crawling overtop Edwin who still had to wipe the sleep from his eyes.
Out into the blackness they charged, the moving shadows could not be discerned from friends and enemies. “To arms!” Damien called, shadows popping up around him. One of those shadows moved toward him. He turned suddenly in motion and meeting the big man brought his sword up, blocked the staff, and he whirled, grabbing for the man’s ear and with one big yank that nearly ripped the man’s ear off pulled him down into his sword.
“Stand together!” he called to his men twice and they began to join with him. The enemy was weak and poorly armed. By the time the streaks of light began to brighten the sky, blood flowed freely under the steel of Damien’s men.
Chapter 12
The men who escorted her to her doom made her extremely uneasy. She tried to tell herself the uneasy feeling was natural but it went beyond that. Their unkempt appearances made it clear they were sloth like. They dragged their feet, too lazy to ride for extended periods. This last was not a bad thing since it would take longer to reach Kirk. They all reeked of sweat, ale and unwashed filth and none of them seemed to be particularly bright. If she got her opportunity she was sure she could get away from them one way or the other.
She knew she was not the only one on the journey sizing up their opponents. The weary glances her way let her know these men had already judged her and believed her to be a witch. These glances were the only communication she received from them. Otherwise they refused to talk to her even ignoring her pleas for privacy. Since they made frequent stops, chaining her to trees or boulders she was able to take care of her basic needs using the privacy of her skirts and their avoidance of looking directly at her to relieve herself. Since they would not give her food and water she figured those moments needed would decrease in frequency.
When the sky began to darken they cast weary glances at her. The rain began falling late in the day, drenching horses, riders and supplies. The men grumbled at their luck but pressed on, hoping to reach shelter before nightfall. Keri cursed them for their slow pace throughout the day because now she had to suffer for it. She couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped her lips making all four men turn to stare at her and she knew a seed of fear that she was the one responsible for the sudden turn in the weather had planted itself in their minds. The sleet and sudden plunge in temperatures turned the ground to ice. As giant flakes of snow began to fall the men decided to stop, their plans for warm beds ruined.
She pulled rein with the four men who were escorting her but the one they called Marvin, the biggest among them who had been carrying the other end of her chain gave a hard yank before she could dismount. The sharp edges of the iron seared the already raw flesh on her wrists. She felt her balance shift drastically as her mare moved from beneath her. She brought her hands up to block her face before it could smash into the ground. The iron was the first to strike followed by her hands and forearms. Her shoulders felt as if they slammed upward into her skull as the white flash of gut wrenching pain crossed her vision before the rest of her body could land. In a daze she felt him dragging her, the pain in her arms and wrists so intense she was aware of little else. The snow bit at her skin as it entered the top of her cloak and the tops of the boots she was now so grateful to Damien for supplying her. He didn’t stop until he came to a tree where he clamped the other end of her fetters around the trunk then stalked away.
Her entire body was frozen from her wet clothing and the wind whipping across the hillside they had stopped on. Her hands hung exposed to the elements and only by straining against the cuffs around her wrists could she manage to get the cloak around them. Using her feet she began clearing the snow from beneath her, digging at it using the heel and toe of her boots to chip away the ice until she had a good patch of bare ground to stand upon. The snow fell at an alarming rate and she watched as the men franticly worked on a shelter and fire. Watching the red hot flames of the fire devouring the wood, knowing there was heat being put off by its glow she yearned for it as she had yearned for few things in her life. Her body shivered uncontrollably and she had to force her mind to calm itself, control her breathing so she could concentrate on keeping her hands from freezing and piling the snow up around her as it continued falling.
What followed felt like a nightmare for Keri as each breath became harder to draw from the panic building inside her. Each moment seemed eternal because she knew she was slowly freezing to death as the men huddled in their shelter, the fire close enough to warm their small space. She wanted to call to them but what good would that do? Would it be worse to freeze or to burn?
She heard voices rising in anger then one of the men came out from underneath the shelter. Marvin came directly to her his rapid approach left her only a fleeting moment to wonder what his intent was. He held a knife in his hand he had pointed directly at her chest. She dodged the thrust only to have him grab her by the shoulders, his beefy fingers digging into her flesh. The darkness of the night cloaked the man called Cal but she could hear him slurp between his teeth as Marvin swung her around and slammed her into the tree. Pain shot up her shoulder and through the strain on her wrists. Cal made an eager cackling laugh that made her think of a vulture waiting its turn at a carcass, to cowardly to initiate the meal.
Franticly she kicked out at Marvin which got her a punch in the side. She doubled over and the filthy man la
ughed at her as he reached for her with one hand, the dagger in the other. She twisted from his grasp and he grabbed her, using the full force of his backward swing he landed the slap across her cheek. She grunted when she began to fall and the chain caught her.
“I’m tired of playing games with you witch,” Marvin declared as if he had every right to be angry and blame her for their freezing circumstances.
She dangled against the chain for a moment her knees unable to support her. Drawing in a breath cold enough it threatened to take it immediately away she regained her feet just as Marvin came at her again. She heard Cal hopping up and down somewhere in the darkness behind Marvin and fear made panic rise in her chest. He grabbed her, twisting her wrists cruelly, pain shooting up her arms. She used all her strength to kick at him and anger exploded in her vision, crowding out all reason when her effort proved impotent when he easily grabbed her leg. With a strangled gasp she lost her balance on her other leg, leaving her suspended as his knife began to descend again.
“You sons of whores!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She tensed her body, using momentum in her arms to try to shake Marvin off. He dropped her and took a step toward her. She found quick purchase with her feet, rising she grabbed the hands that descended toward her and turned the blade of the dagger so the man’s momentum carried him straight into it. A sickening sound made it through the thunder of her rapid breaths as the steel entered his eye. He made not a sound as his body fell against her.
“Holy mother of God,” she heard Cal mumble.
She heard his feet muffled as he fled from her and she wasted no time as she franticly tried to drag her hands down enough to reach the man’s belt where she had seen him tie the key to her shackles when he had first put them on her. Using her legs she wrapped them around his torso and lifted his limp body upward, her wrists screaming at her for the abuse. She let him go and tried to grab for the dagger in his head but she did not have enough length to her chain to reach it. Again, she used her legs to slide his body up, her arms trembling, and she was sure she would never be able to feel her hands again if they weren’t already severed from her body. Her fingers gripped his hair, she was pretty sure of it, her fingers bumped into the dagger and trembling, the fear that she would not be able to hold onto it was very real in her mind as she swung her legs from around him. His body sagged and fell and for a heart stopping moment she felt her fingers sliding on the handle.