Wolf's Embrace
Page 33
That wild notion made him laugh aloud. A husband without a wife. A father without children. A man without a home. A heart without ease.
He believed that Sybelle would have understood his message and come to Ireland by now. He had counted the days and finally put them from his mind. It was either that or erupt in a rage of anger and fear. Fear that he would never know again the infinite perfection that he found in her arms. Fear that he would be forever a stranger in the lives of his children. And Sybelle was a lovely, rich woman on her own. What would he do if she chose to deny them a future together by wedding another?
A shouted greeting from him alerted the guard before the sentry could call out.
He was tired and exhausted. All he wanted was his bedhis lonely island of past dreams where he relived those two nights of intense lovemaking, of rapture supreme, over and over again until he could almost feel the movements of her body, taste the touch of her skin, smell the scent of her hair. He felt himself becoming aroused by the mere thought of her when tonight the blatant display of desire for him by another woman had left him cold and unresponsive. His passion was reserved for one woman now; all others could be studied and observed as if he were detached from the experience. Sybelle alone could excite him with the recall of her innocence and incandescence. She was woman, pure and whole. She was life; she was his soul. And how long could he survive the loss of that soul? He craved what only she could provide, what only Sybelle could promise.
He handed Fergal's reins to a groom and failed to notice in the dark the extra horses and men who were forced to pitch camp on his grounds. Rolf bounded up the short flight of stairs and entered his keep.
As he made his way up the inner stairs toward his room, a voice called out to him in the darkness.
''My lord?"
He paused, surprised to hear Siobhan's voice.
She had slept only lightly, waiting for him. An instinct she trusted warned her to expect him.
"Aye?"
"I would have a word with you before you seek your bed."
"Can it not wait till morning?"
"No, my lord, 'tis important."
Rolf walked back down the steps and came to the bottom, where she waited. "What is it?"
"You should be quiet ere you go to your room, so as not to disturb your guests," she said with a sly smile.
"Guests?" he asked, forcing his eyes to remain open. "Who dares to claim my chambers?"
"Only those who have the right," she answered enigmatically.
Hope lit Rolf's face and banished the fatigue. Could it be? He turned from her and made to dash back up the stairs.
"Do not wake the babes, for it took us long enough to get them settled for the night," she called after his retreating form.
The babies were here. Surely they would not be alone? He entered the room. All was in darkness, save for a small sliver of light when the clouds that had covered the moon moved off again. He saw the outline of the dog sleeping at the end of the twin cradles. There was no sign of anyone else save for the children. He had given a swift glance towards the bed and saw it empty.
She had sent him his children. He bent over the cradles and patted the head of Lugh, who had come instantly awake as he entered the room. Lugh was guard for the babes, protecting them. He leaned over the cradle containing his son and touched a slim finger to the soft cheek. Mo mhacsa. My son, he said softly. Next, he leaned over Deirdre and touched her tiny fist. So perfect. A chailнn bhig. My little girl.
A wellspring of love for them swelled in his heart. A stabbing surge of sadness cut through his joy as he realized that Sybelle was not here. She had chosen to give him the gift of his children only. He removed his cloak and dropped it carelessly to the floor.
Odd minutes ticked by in his brain as he absorbed the realization of his abject misery. He wanted, selfishly perhaps, to have it allhis woman, his children. To have love and a new chance. He supposed he should be grateful that she had given him the most precious gifts, but did it mean she rejected them because they shared his blood? No, he dismissed that idea. He had seen the love in her face when he came upon her in the garden with them. Had she decided that they were best brought up in Ireland as befitted their heritage?
Or had it been as he feared? That she had decided to marry someone else and needed no reminder of the past? Or had she been forced to give up her children? Or could it have been for love of him? Dare he trust that Sybelle loved him so much that she wanted him to raise their babes? Was she in doubt of how he felt about her? Perhaps she did not love him?
All these doubts and questions buzzed in his brain until he was ready to explode. He covered his face with his hands, knuckles to his temples.
She was hidden among the shadows, needing to watch and not be seen. She had heard a disturbance outside, for she had left open the window to catch the tangy, salt-sweet night air. She wanted to smell the ocean, hear the pounding surf. What she heard was RoWs voice as the wind carried it upwards. She had watched him ride through the gates caught in a quick sliver of moonlight.
Fear had caught up with her. She had to know his true reaction to the arrival of the children. Would he be so happy and sure of his victory that he would have no thought for her absence? And now, seeing him hunched over as if in pain, Sybelle wondered if the promise he had made to her that day on the beach was indeed alive.
She heard her name spoken softly, then the words that gave a lift to her hesitant heart. "Why did you not come? Oh my love, my love." It mattered little that he spoke in Gaelic; she now understood. Sybelle heard the raw longing in his deep-edged voice, felt the need as if it were a living thing.
Rolf heard a noise. It was slight, and only ears trained in the art of war, of vigilance, which never lost the ability, would have picked it up. Someone else was in the room. Was it his imagination? Or had he conjured up a memory so vivid as to manifest itself?
His heart pounded; his breathing deepened. His hands fell to his thighs as he waited.
Sybelle emerged from the protective shadows, clad only in her nightshift. She could ignore the stirrings of her body, of her love, no longer. Her way was clear. She approached the seated figure, her hands outstretched. She connected with the white silk of his shirt, felt the warmth of his skin beneath; the tips of her fingers brushed the bunched muscles of his back as she slid her hands slowly upwards. Her breath caught in a gasp. Sybelle whispered his name in a voice hoarse with the passion she was feeling. As her fingers curved on his shoulders they met his hands, reaching back and up.
The touch of their entwined hands was like flame; each could feel the scorching heat as they clasped.
Rolf drew her hands to his body again; he could feel the kneading of her fingers as a delicate friction. Her lips ruffled his thick hair as she slid her arms down his chest, fingers straying to the opening of his shirt, ripping it.
Sybelle spoke in a tone heavy with need. "For now. Forever." Her cheek lay next to his, her words hot on his skin.
It staggered him momentarily. Then he stood and turned, drawing her to him with the lightest of touches.
Sudden moonlight bathed her body and silvered the honey hair.
He felt exposed by his need of her, this raw, pulsating emotion. Rolf could deny it and himself no longer. He tore at his shirt in an effort to remove it.
Sybelle's eyes were alive with love, and she longed to express that love. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, the crisp black hair, the smooth muscles.
Her veins ran hot with her love. And with the courage from that love, she went forth to take, to give, to accept, to join.
Rolf bent and captured her thighs in his strong bare arms, the feel of his hair-toughened skin thrilling her, but no more than the words that came like a benediction to her ears before her lips joined his in a mutually hungry exploration.
"Mo Bhean." My wife.
In the hours before the dawn broke, they wedded their bodies, their souls, their lives, and their love, and kept the promise.
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Epilogue
"You are excited, aren't you?"
At her husband's question, Sybelle turned from her task of changing the linen on her son's bottom and smiled. "I cannot express what this means to me," she said, finishing with her task and putting him down on the floor, where he promptly crawled to join his sister, who sat at her father's foot, chewing on a soft piece of leather that Rolf had given her.
Sybelle was happier than she could have dreamed. In the time since she had wed with Rolf in a proper ceremony, she had experienced a completeness that she had never known. She was content; more than that, she was a woman totally fulfilled. As Countess of Killroone she was invested with power and privilege; she was, as Rolf made clear, his true co-lord. Sybelle vowed never to let him regret the honor he had bestowed on her. She took an active role in the affairs of the property, and encouraged his participation in her own. Their home was abrim with love and laughter, if occasionally it also rang with the heated battle of words and wits of its master and mistress.
Within a month, Derran and Duvessa would be making their first visit to Killroone. Accompanying them would be Aidan and their second son, Thomas. Sybelle was also anxious to see both her brothers, not to mention her sisters. Clare had been there several months previously for a short visit.
Sybelle saw that the twins were now happily playing with the puppies fathered by Lugh. The young wolfhounds nipped and jumped as the twins tried to mount them in a clumsy sort of way.
It mattered not to her that this would be a strange reunion, for she was glad that it was taking place at all. Her letters to her father had always included the invitation; in his last letter, he had at last responded positively and said that he wanted to see his grandchildren; perhaps the past was indeed better off in the past. He had accepted that she was wed to Rolf and in love with her husband.
Sybelle recalled with delight the gift that Rolf had sent to Duvessa and Hugh this past Christmas. It was an exquisite pair of golden candlesticks.
Her mouth curved in a private smile.
She had a secret that she wanted to share with her husband, a surprise that she was eager to divulge.
Calling for Alyce, she requested that the twins and the dogs be taken for a breath of ocean air. At that word she smiled again. The ocean had a lot to do with what she had to tell Rolf. It had been on the beach that she was sure she had conceived their next child.
Waiting till they were alone in their chambers, Sybelle removed the ribbons that held her hair in place. Shaking it free, she saw the hungry look in Rolf's green eyes, saw the slight flare to his nostrils, felt the increased tempo of her heartbeat as he approached her.
Threading his long fingers through her hair, he said in a husky tone, "Abducting you was ever the wisest mistake I ever made. Revenge was never sweeter served nor justice so well rewarded."
Sybelle added, "Nor was love so unexpected, and therefore most blessed, husband mine. Lover of my heart, keeper of my soulmy own, for all time."
Table of Contents
Part 1 A Bridge Crossed
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Part 2 Promise Renewed
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue