“As you wish, my lady,” William interrupted. “With your permission, then, I shall retire. I’ll send a trusted guard to stay with you in my stead.”
Lora gasped. “You wouldn’t. You…you can’t.”
“But I must. ’Tis my duty as steward to make sure all within these walls are safe.” He touched a finger to her cheek. “Especially the noble family.”
“Nay, please don’t send a guard.” Desperate, Lora linked her hands and raised them to her chin, deciding to fight him with the truth. “I’m meeting Gareth, Master William. That’s why I’m here.”
William grunted, scratched his jaw, and looked up at the sky. “See that cloud up there?”
Lora followed his gaze. “Cloud?”
“Aye. The one shaped a bit like a bird. A swallow yet, flying west with the wind.”
Lora’s eyes widened. The cloud did, indeed, look like a great white swallow floating across the night sky. “Yes, I see it.”
“Good. Keep an eye on it. If your stonemason has not appeared by the time that cloud reaches yon hills, you’ll get yourself indoors. I’ll have your word on that, little ’un.”
The man was a blessing. Moved to tears, Lora stepped forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I happily swear it, Master William. I cannot tell you what this means. Thank you.”
He grunted again. “I’ll no doubt live to regret it. You just be careful, lass. Although Gareth knows better than to disrespect you.”
Lora smiled. “You threatened him?”
“Nay.” William smiled back. “It was no threat. It was a promise.”
He turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Lora soothed by an unexpected warmth of spirit. The secrets she and William shared further strengthened the bond between them, and Lora took solace from it. At the same time, she felt a twinge of sadness. Who was the woman William loved? Did the woman love him, too? What unhappy measure of fate had kept them apart? Status, perhaps? Lora sighed. William’s story resounded with a recognizable echo.
She looked up, only to see that the winged cloud had lost its birdlike shape. Now an indefinable ghostly mass, it drifted toward the distant hills at the mercy of the wind. How small she felt, standing beneath the endless, starlit heavens. Unnerved, Lora hugged herself and squinted into the shadows. Where are you, Gareth?
Moments later, a familiar tingle of excitement trickled down her spine and she smiled.
“I thought you’d forgotten about me, Stonemason,” she whispered, shivering as his warm breath brushed the nape of her neck. His arms enveloped her, drawing her back against his chest.
“As if I would.” Gareth nuzzled a sensitive spot beneath her ear. “What’s your name again, lass?”
Lora giggled and twisted around to face him. “Pest.”
“Ah, right. Pest. An apt name indeed.” He frowned as his thumb brushed across the bruise on her lip. “Does it still hurt?”
She shook her head, wondering if he could feel the boisterous dance of her heart. “Nay. Why? Do you want to kiss me? You can if you like.”
Gareth chuckled and threaded his fingers through hers. “Brazen wench. Come with me.”
He led her into the armoury and toward the loft steps. A feeble glow, like that of a subdued sunset, seemed to emanate from the doorway at the top. Candlelight! A chill ran across Lora’s skin and she froze mid-step.
“Gareth,” she hissed, pointing upward. “Someone’s here.”
“Aye, we are.” He grinned. “It’s all right. Follow me.”
His hand gripped hers as they climbed the creaking, wooden staircase. At the threshold, Lora stopped, her legs refusing to take another step. Her voice, too, abandoned her, although she managed to part with a soft gasp.
The loft had been swept clean. Gone were the cobwebs, dust, and the stale odor of disuse. The air bore a faint smell of rosemary mingled with a delicate hint of mint. A lantern, containing a single flickering taper, rested on an upturned box in one corner. Its pale light dissolved much of the darkness and created alluring shadows across the walls and ceiling. Around the box, the harsh wooden floor had been covered with pelts of red fox and gray wolf.
It was a reflection of Gareth, she thought, a rugged, beautiful blend of romantic and pagan, just like the stories he told. Intentional or not, its effect seduced Lora’s senses on an ancient, instinctive level. A vision of their bodies entwined on the fur formed in her mind. It raised the blood in her cheeks and heated her innermost depths.
Gareth lifted Lora’s bruised wrist and kissed the sensitive skin that covered her galloping pulse, making her shiver. “Do you like it, my lady?”
“It’s perfect,” she whispered. “I shall never forget this, Gareth.”
“That was my intent.” He tugged on her hand. “Sit with me, Lora.”
That was my intent. To create a memory to keep after I’ve gone.
The additional words, although unspoken, played in her head. She pushed them away. The harsh reality of her life did not belong here. Not tonight. This was their place, hers and Gareth’s. She settled beside him and buried her fingers in the soft fur.
“We even have music.” Lora glanced upward as a light patter of rain began to play a soft tune across the roof. “Did you arrange that, too?”
“Nay.” He smiled. “But its arrival is timely.”
“Aren’t you afraid someone might see the candlelight?”
He shook his head. “They’d have to come into the armoury to see it because I covered the little window. It’s unlikely anyone will come near the place until morning. Don’t worry. I think we’re safe enough.”
She frowned. “Master William knows about us.”
“Aye, I know.”
“He won’t betray us, Gareth.”
“I know that too, lass. Tell me what you heard.”
“That he told you not to disrespect me.”
Gareth laughed. “Aye, he did, and fiercely, but that’s not what I meant. I want to know what the voice said.”
Lora sighed and studied Gareth’s face. He raised a brow and gave her a quizzical smile.
“What?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Are you sure you won’t laugh at me?”
He drew an imaginary cross over his heart. “I have no cause to mock you, Lora. I happen to believe what you say.”
She told him of the voice and what it had said. “What do you think it means?” she asked.
“That you’re blessed somehow.” Gareth shrugged. “I can only suspect it’s leading to some special purpose or event. Your wishes, whatever they may be, will likely have a greater significance.”
“Blessed?” Lora sighed. “I don’t see how. My first wish hasn’t been granted yet and I see no sign that it will be. There are many more things I could ask of it right now.” She traced a fingertip across the back of his hand, which rested atop her knee. “Like I wish I didn’t have to—”
“Stop, Lora. I told you once before. You must be careful what you wish for. Think of how it might affect others in your life. I remember a story of an unhappy wife who wished her husband dead. Sure enough, a short time later, he caught a sickness and died. Trouble was, the sickness didn’t die with him. It got passed to the woman’s children and they died, too.”
“Dear God. Is that a true story?”
“I don’t know. I hope not. But I’m sure you understand its meaning.”
“Choose your words,” she murmured. “That’s another thing the voice said to me. Choose your words. It also told me, more than once, that I’m not supposed to be here.” Her voice, weighed down by growing emotion, wavered. “Where, then, should I be? I don’t understand.”
“Ah, my sweet lass.” His fingers touched her bruised lip. “You should not be with anyone who would hurt you.”
“Yet it seems I might have no choice.” Certainty stirred within her, keen and unblemished by doubt. “I want to be with you, Gareth. Only you.”
“You are, tonight.”
“But I want to be wit
h you, always.” She pressed a kiss to his palm. “Always.”
Passion flared in Gareth’s eyes, and she heard him draw a slow deep breath. “You’ll always be in here, cariad,” he said, placing her hand atop his heart. “Till I die.”
Something flowed between them at that moment, a thread of arousal, unseen yet easily definable. Lora’s body ached with an innate desire to become his, to belong to him in every way that mattered. To hell with arranged ceremonies, meaningless vows, and loveless coupling. She didn’t want Edward. On every instinctual and emotional level, from whispered words of love to carnal lust, she wanted Gareth.
Maybe she understood what the voice meant after all. Maybe she shouldn’t be here, in this place, at this time, hiding in the shadows with the man she loved. Such an honest love did not merit deceit. It deserved to be made apparent and set free from foolish mortal barriers. The candle flame crackled as if feeding on the anticipation that surrounded her.
Memories? By all things beautiful under Heaven, she would have them.
“Make love to me, Stonemason.” She lay back on the furs. “Take me to another place.”
Gareth frowned and placed his hand on Lora’s chest below the swell of her breast. His eyes, pensive and dark, followed the trace of his thumb as it brushed across the gentle rise. He paused his caress at the peak, not quite grazing the sensitive tip.
Intoxication, like a rush of sweet wine, fired through Lora’s veins. Anticipating the intimacy of his touch, she felt her nipples pucker and harden. At the same time, a pulse of desire sparked to life between her thighs.
She inhaled and closed her eyes.
Gareth muttered something under his breath and took his hand from her body.
“What’s wrong?” Lora tensed and blinked at him, her mind already struggling with a dreaded answer to her question. She voiced it. “Don’t you want me?”
His gaze, bright and fierce, snapped up to meet hers. “Christ help me, sweetheart. Of course I want you. More than anything.”
“Then why—?”
He interrupted her with a growl and rose to his feet.
“For your own protection. Edward Grant expects a virgin bride on his wedding night.” He looked down at her with a grim smile. “’Tis not an unreasonable expectation either, for a husband. I’m afraid he’ll harm you if he discovers he’s not your first.”
Lora pushed herself up on an elbow. “I’ll tell him he is.”
Gareth shook his head. “Edward will know if another has been there before him.”
“I don’t care. I want you to be the first.” Her throat tightened with emotion. “Not Edward.”
Gareth didn’t respond. His expression was one of contemplation, but Lora couldn’t tell what he was thinking. After a few moments, he took a deep breath and held out his hand.
“Stand up.”
Disappointment, like a mist, dampened her desires. It seemed her night of love was not to be after all. She hesitated, unwilling to surrender her dream, hating that she was not able to tempt Gareth past the boundaries of chivalry. She wanted to argue, fight, drag him to his knees with feminine pleas and wiles.
But she couldn’t. The love she felt for Gareth did not deserve to be tested by selfish cravings or cheapened by verbal trickery. To resort to such tactics would, she knew, diminish the grace of what she held in her heart, of whom she held in her heart.
So, she clutched at his outstretched hand and rose to her feet.
“Your refusal to love me changes nothing,” she said. “Edward might take my virginity, but he’ll never have my—”
He drew her tight to his chest, silencing her with a deep, yet gentle kiss. A fresh tide of desire swept through her as she felt his need, hard and demanding, nudging at her belly. A whimper from her mouth tore a groan from his.
His fingers traced a path down her spine and tugged at the laces of her kirtle, which loosened with little resistance. Lora broke the kiss to look at him, a question in her eyes. Had he decided, then, to cross the boundary?
He smiled. “Do you trust me, Lora FitzGilbert?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Then don’t challenge anything I’m about to do or anything I ask of you. Will you agree?”
Even as he spoke, his fingers finished their task and Lora’s kirtle hung loose from her shoulders. A delicious shiver wandered across her skin.
“Aye,” she whispered, anticipation fluttering in her belly. “Whatever you want. I shall not refuse.”
With a low groan, he bent his head to hers again, pressing kisses to the corners of her mouth and atop the pulse in her neck. Lora shuddered as his hands stroked up and over her breasts before coming to rest at her throat. From there, they burrowed beneath the fabric of her kirtle and pushed it over her shoulders. The robe fell, soft and silent, around her feet.
Next her chemise, which offered little resistance, slid from her skin. The cool night air lifted the hair on her arms, adding to the sensitivity that prickled over her nakedness. Gareth took half a step back, his eyes stroking her body with a feverish gaze.
“Ti’n brydferth,” he muttered. “So beautiful.”
Lora trembled beneath his scrutiny. “Am I really?”
“Truly. Never doubt it, Lora.” He took her forefinger, lifted it to his mouth, and wet the tip of it with his tongue. “I want you to touch yourself.” He circled her moist finger around her rigid nipple. “Like this.”
Despite her earlier affirmation, Lora hesitated and Gareth raised a brow.
“Do it,” he demanded. “Close your eyes if you wish, but focus on your body’s response. Give it what it wants and acknowledge the pleasure of it.”
She closed her eyes and drew a small, tight circle around her nipple. The sensitive skin puckered beneath her touch. It felt wonderful, yet she wanted…more.
She began to caress the hard nub, and drew a short breath as the throb between her legs sharpened.
“Aye, that’s it.” Gareth’s voice sounded strained. “Don’t deny yourself.”
Ah, yes. I want… I want…please…
Had she spoken aloud? A moment later, Gareth’s palm rubbed across her other nipple, the callouses on his skin sending shock waves of pleasure down to that protected place between her thighs.
“What are you feeling?” His warm breath brushed her throat and his hand closed around her breast. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”
“I want…oh, please. I want to touch…” She gasped and opened her eyes.
“Touch where?” He nuzzled her ear as his thumb and finger clamped around her nipple and gave it a gentle pinch. “Where do you want to be touched?”
It seemed natural to spread her legs.
“Down there,” she whimpered, her hand closing around his wrist, frustrated when he resisted her tugging. “Gareth, please.”
“I will, cariad, but you must do it first. Here.” He took her hand and pressed it to her mound. “Slide it between and into yourself. Aye, like that. Ah, sweet heaven, you’re beyond ready for me.”
The wetness between her legs had her blushing with embarrassment. Did he not find it distasteful?
“Gareth, what… ah… I’m so…”
“Wet?” He gave a throaty chuckle. “’Tis your want of me, my love. A compliment for any man. Your body is preparing itself to take me. And this,” his fingers rubbed a spot at the base of her curls, “is another place where a woman finds true pleasure.”
A jolt shot through Lora’s body, forcing a choked cry from deep in her throat. Gareth grunted and pulled away, his gaze intense.
“Lie down, Lora.”
It was a sensual command. The sexual undertones of his voice weakened Lora’s poor legs even further. She dropped to the floor and stretched out on the fur, relishing the softness next to her skin. Gareth never took his eyes off her as he removed his clothes and she, in turn, watched him. He was beyond splendid, with his bronzed muscles lit by candle flame. The gold medallion flashed against the dark triangle of hair on his ch
est.
“Your want of me?” she asked as his arousal sprang free.
She shivered, the sight of it both startling and fascinating. Was a woman truly able to sheath such a weapon? Although she tried, she could not stop the color from warming her face.
“Aye, cariad. My want of you.” He smiled as he settled at her side, head propped up on one hand, the other resting at her waist. “Is that a blush upon your cheeks?”
An unbidden thought drifted into her mind. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “What if I disappoint—?”
“Nay, hush. Your body will tell you what to do. Listen to it and to me.” He bent and kissed her mouth. “I see uncertainty in your eyes. Are you sure you want this?”
She nodded and touched the gold medallion. “I’m sure.”
“Then don’t be afraid. You could never disappoint me.”
He kissed her again, harder this time, his tongue exploring, tangling with hers. His large calloused hand cupped her breast, the thumb rubbing across the inflamed peak. She moaned against his mouth and felt his hard arousal pushing against her thigh.
He broke the kiss and bent his head to her breast.
This, she had not expected. His mouth nibbled and sucked at one hard nub, while his fingers squeezed and plucked at the other. Lora’s spine arched, driving her body into his, skin-to-skin. Lost in an escalating storm of desire, she whimpered and buried her fingers in his hair.
With a growl, he shifted his hand from her breast and captured her wrist, pulling her arm down between them.
“Touch yourself again.” His hot breath seared her raw nipple. “Do it, Lora.”
The contact sent fire pulsing through her veins, setting every part of her alight. Or was it ice, making her shiver? Both, perhaps. She no longer knew. She was caught in a spiral of ecstasy, driven by raw need.
“Aye.” Gareth’s hand rested atop hers and pushed her fingers deeper into herself. “Like that.”
The spiral turned faster, lifting her hips off the ground, pressing her closer to him. Could she get any closer? She parted with a cry of sheer pleasure, sensing that she teetered on the edge of something incredible.
“Nay, sweetheart. Not just yet.” Gareth pulled her hand away, and she felt the wetness on her fingers.
The Wishing Well (Legends of Love Book 1) Page 10