Pyromancist

by Charmaine Pauls

  “No, no, please, it’s too much,” she whimpered.

  “Shhh,” he said, “you can take it. Just feel.”

  It wasn’t possible to feel that much. The onslaught of sensory stimulation was overwhelming. She fought him, vaguely aware of his penetrating stare studying her face, reading her eyes. It was too much. Too intense.

  “I can’t,” she said, the sound close to a scream, pinching her eyes shut.

  “Open your eyes, Cle. You’re so close again. Let me see you come for me.”

  She tried to focus on him, but she couldn’t coherently command any function of her body. All that existed was his touch and her body’s protest to the unbearable limit to which he was taking her pleasure.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are when you come?” he said in a husky voice. She moaned. “Come again for me. Only for me.”

  Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, she felt the pleasure building again, but this time it wasn’t a slow journey from her clit to her abdomen, it was an explosion that hit her everywhere at once, a fierce convulsion that ended as abruptly as it had started, but left her weak and shaking in the arms of the man who was to become her lover. Josselin pulled her against him and stroked her back. They stood like that for a while, until she had regained enough strength to stand on her own two feet again.

  When he lifted his head again they were both panting. Josselin rested his forehead against hers, his hands moving up under the fabric of her dress to circle her waist. Their breaths made vapor in the ancient forest. She should have been cold, freezing, but she only felt the fire raging through her and filling her heart.

  He pulled away slightly to look at her. “You saved me. In more ways than one. My life is yours, forever. My heart belongs to you. Only you. You make my body and soul whole. You have bewitched me and now I can’t live without you. Will you marry me, little witch?”

  Clelia caught her breath. Although Josselin had vowed not to take her before their marriage, before some sacred ceremony that was important to him, she had not expected a marriage proposal so soon. And she was still battling to find her bearings after the orgasms she had just experienced.

  She became aware that Josselin was holding his breath. He stared at her with his tortured eyes. She realized that Josselin doubted her answer. The demons of his past that he had claimed, the actions that weren’t his fault but that he had adopted the blame for, still flogged his soul and made him doubt his beauty, his purity, and her love.

  She laid her palm on his cheek. “Josselin, I love you. Of course I will marry you.”

  The burden of his doubt lifted from his shoulders like a knight’s heavy armor. He straightened and took her hands.

  “Now,” he said, his voice urgent, “I want to marry you now.”

  “Now?” Clelia looked around. “Here?” Her eyes fell on the chapel and then it became clear. She suddenly understood why he had run ahead of her, why he had brought her here. The hastiness of it all caught her off-guard. It frightened her just a little.

  “We don’t need to rush,” she said.

  He tensed visibly. “Don’t you know how hard it is for me to abstain from taking you?”

  “It’s hard for me too. We don’t have to wait long, but we don’t have to rush into it either.”

  He took a deep breath. “You’re not happy.”

  “I am happy, Josselin. I’m very happy. You took me by surprise. I didn’t expect this.”

  “I wanted to ask you here, and if you were to say yes, I didn’t want to wait.” He turned away from her. “I can see now it was a mistake.”

  “Oh, Josselin. It’s just that you’re so ... so intense.”

  He faced her again. “Am I too intense for you?”

  Clelia regarded him. No, he wasn’t too intense for her. She loved him. She had loved him for a long time. She loved everything about him. Josselin was intense, but that was part of what attracted her to him.

  She shook her head. “You seem to forget that I may have my own ideas about a wedding, and about how I would like to do it.”

  He went onto one knee, grabbing her hands in his. “Marry me now, little witch. I beg you. You can have a celebration later, whatever you want. Just give me this one thing. Just fulfill this one wish. I need to make you my wife and I want the moment to be ours, and nobody else’s.”

  “I already promised to marry you. I said I won’t leave you. You have to trust me, Josselin.”

  “Then trust me.”

  She stared at him.

  “Can I show you the chapel?” he said, his eyes shining with a hopeful light.

  Clelia hesitated. He straightened and kissed her knuckles.

  “I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want,” he said. “Just come inside for a look. Please.”

  He looked so lost, so insecure, that Clelia said, “All right, Josselin. I would love to see the chapel.”

  She allowed him to lead her by both hands to the stone church where the lights were burning.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Josselin watched Clelia intently as he led her up the three low steps. If she had any doubt, any hesitation, he’d stop. They would wait. For her, he could wait as long as it took. But he would never let her go. He needed her. He wanted her. He loved her. And he wanted her to become his wife. He wanted it more than he wanted salvation for his sins.

  His little witch did not falter. She took sure steps toward her new future, her tiny hands lying trustingly in his. Her smile was brilliant and her eyes big but happy as he led her to the door. Inside, the priest waited. It had taken a lot of convincing for him to come out here, but he was an old priest who knew the history of Josselin’s ancestors and who held to tradition. Yes, he couldn’t wait another day, not another minute, to make her his, here, in this chapel, where all of his predecessors took their wives and made their promises. But if it were her wish to wait, he’d wait. With her, he could finally face the future, look forward to the rest of his days, and he wanted to show her the enormity of her influence on his life.

  At the top of the steps, she turned to him, her eyes bright. “When did you organize all of this?”

  “In Johannesburg, when I booked our flights.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Listen to me, Cle. I didn’t do this in arrogance, assuming that you’d simply say yes and just go along with everything. I did it with a wish, daring to hope that my dream could be possible, that you could agree. But if you don’t, I don’t want you to feel obliged because I jumped the gun, understood?”

  He let go of her hand, resting his on the doorknob, but Clelia said, “Wait.”

  He looked at her questioningly. She pulled her hand from his to walk to a small window on the side. He watched her peer inside, his heart in his throat. When she looked back at him, her eyes were filled with something he hoped was wonder. Josselin couldn’t be sure. Those pools of black he loved so much were big and round, shiny with tears. Unable to speak, he simply stared at her, waiting for her to make the next move.

  “I want to give you an answer before you open the door,” she said.

  Her words almost made him choke. How would he be able to bear her rejection if she said no?

  “I want to marry you, Josselin. Now.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He jumped forward and hugged her to him, folding his arms around her. Relief washed through him as he cuddled the small body that he wanted to protect, to hold, and to have forever. Holding her at arm’s length again, he said, “Are you sure?”

  When she smiled, the radiance of the gesture filled his heart. “Take me inside.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He opened the door for her, and selfless as she was, she didn’t stop to think about more appropriate attire, or guests. He, on the contrary, was a selfish bastard, but this was a moment that he couldn’t share. She could have a celebration later. Anything she wanted. But this moment was theirs. He noticed her pleasure when she looked at the candles lit down the row that divided the seven aisles, thei
r light soft enough not to drown the brilliant white of the roses that stood on the stone pillars between them.

  The appreciation he saw on her face made every secret arrangement worth the effort. He wanted their union to be symbolic, exclusive, but he also wanted to make it beautiful for her, to fill her mind with precious memories. The priest nodded at them, looking mighty relieved, not that Josselin could blame him for fearing the gamble wouldn’t work. The old man glanced at this watch, but Josselin was not to be hurried. Not tonight.

  To the side was a room that had been used for mothers with small children to sit comfortably during mass when the chapel was still in use, and inside hung the dress he had ordered for her. He urged her forward with a kiss on her hand, but remained in the door.

  “I thought you would want to look like a bride,” he said. “I know it’s something you would want to do yourself, to choose your own wedding gown, and I promise you’ll have that too.”

  She turned to look at the white wool dress that hung on a hook on the wall. It was made from the softest of cashmere, pure white. He had chosen it with the weather in mind, but knew that the knitted fit would hug her figure and make her look alluring, like an angel.

  “It’s perfect,” she whispered.

  She kissed him softly and he let the kiss linger. He pulled away from her with much effort.

  “Do you need help changing?” he said.

  “Josselin, I’m not a child.”

  Her voice held a light reprimand, but he loved the way her cheeks flushed. Smiling, he left her in the room to change, softly closing the door behind him. For every agonizing minute he had to wait, he focused on the future they would share. He tried not to think about the danger awaiting his bride.

  * * * *

  Clelia undressed and slipped the simple dress over her head. It seemed appropriate. She didn’t want a big wedding or a large reception. What she wanted was right outside. There was a box with a pair of white satin shoes and a single white rose that she held in her hand. Glancing in a swivel mirror, no doubt placed there courtesy of Josselin’s attentiveness, she hoped that she looked like a bride deserving of her groom.

  Opening the door, she waited at the top of the aisle for Josselin to notice her. He was turned to a window, looking into the dark night, his hand balled into a fist and the knuckles pressed against his mouth. His back was straight, but his shoulders hunched forward. She knew that stance. Josselin was tense. She could only guess what he was worrying himself about. It had to revolve around Lupien, and their safety.

  He moved then, as if he sensed her presence, turning slowly to face her. When he did, everything vanished from his face, except for the tenderness she recognized as he smiled at her, the rare gesture promising more than the words they were going to speak in a few minutes. He extended his hand in silent invitation and she didn’t hesitate to walk forward to place her palm in his. He folded his fingers around hers firmly and kissed her tenderly on her cheek.

  “You look like an angel, little witch,” he whispered in her ear.

  Suddenly, she felt very nervous. As if sensing her emotion, he rubbed her arms gently while his smile turned reassuring. “Ready?” he said softly.

  She nodded. She had always been ready for this. The thought hit her with an overwhelming certainty, making her suddenly feel emotional.

  Josselin kissed her long and tenderly, only releasing her when she heard the priest clear his throat.

  “I love you Clelia d’Ambois,” he said, taking her arm.

  She smiled at him. “I love you, Josselin de Arradon.”

  Together they faced the priest who performed an old ritual, binding them together as husband and wife, but in her heart, Clelia knew she had always been Josselin’s, since long before.

  When it was time for the exchange of the rings, Josselin produced a small box with two identical wedding rings that consisted of three interlinked bands of white, yellow, and red gold. Like the shoes and the dress, the ring fit perfectly, and Clelia didn’t have to wonder how Josselin had managed to get everything just right. He was the only man she knew who could do something like this so perfectly, the only man she wanted.

  After their simple ceremony, Josselin invited the priest to share a glass of champagne with them, but he tactfully declined. Josselin walked him to the back of the castle where he had left his car. When he had gone, Josselin picked Clelia up and carried her to the front, to where the lights were burning.

  “It may not be all you expect,” he warned her, “but I didn’t have time to fix it up.”

  She nestled against his chest, finding comfort in the warmth and strength of his arms. Josselin managed to open the door without putting her down and stepped into a large reception hall that seemed cold and gray. It was empty of furniture. Light from candles fitted into holders on the walls bounced off the stone as Josselin’s footsteps echoed in the hollow space. He put her down then and kicked the door shut, his eyes measuring her reaction. Without speaking, he took her hand and led her upstairs. Knowing what was to follow, Clelia felt her heartbeat increase in excitement and a little bit of fear.

  The staircase spiraled twice before they exited into a narrow hallway on the first floor, also illuminated by candles.

  Josselin took the lead, glancing back at her every now and then, his face tense, as if he expected her to change her mind. Clelia smiled at him encouragingly and let her fingers run along the rough surface of the wall. The stone was cold beneath her hand.

  They went all the way to the end of the corridor, but instead of going into the tower part as she had expected, Josselin paused in front of a big door on the left. He waited for her to catch up before opening it wide.

  Glancing inside, Clelia caught her breath. It was a huge hall rather than a bedroom, fitted with an antique looking four-poster bed complete with velvet curtains. Except for the bed and a chest standing in front of it, there was no other furniture. Instead, flowers took up almost all of the floor space. There were exotic looking, fragrant white lilies everywhere. Bunches of flowers shaped like bells hung from the walls, reaching all the way from the ceiling to the floor, and in between the arrangements stood thick, yellow candles, casting a warm glow over the room. There were two fireplaces, one on each far side of the hall, and the blazing fires gave the space ample warmth and the pleasant music that fires made.

  “Please,” Josselin said. He motioned for her to enter.

  Clelia stepped over the threshold and walked slowly to the bed. It was covered with plush cushions and mohair throws.

  “You look so small against the backdrop of that bed,” Josselin said behind her.

  She jumped, as she hadn’t heard him approach.

  “This is the bed where my ancestors consummated their marriages. Somehow, it seemed appropriate to bring you here.”

  Clelia was glad for those words, because it meant that Josselin had started embracing what he refused to acknowledge before–his heritage, his past. Instinctively, Clelia knew that he would never find peace, fully heal his emotional wounds, if he couldn’t accept that past.

  She turned to look up at him. His eyes appeared darker in the golden light of the flames. Maybe it was passion that made him look so intense, but the sudden male possessiveness with which he regarded her left her with no doubt to whom she belonged.

  “How did you manage all of this?” she said in awe.

  He smiled. “I know a florist who owed me a favor. Does it please you?”

  “Very much,” she said. “It’s perfect.”

  “Good. Because I want everything to be perfect for you. Tonight. And always.”

  He bent down to claim her lips and she couldn’t stop the quiver of expectation mixed with trepidation that moved through her.

  He broke the kiss and cupped her cheek. “Nervous?”

  “A little,” she said softly, feeling a flush creep up her neck.

  “Hungry? Thirsty?”

  She was way too nervous to think about food. “No, thank you.”
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  “Later then. Do you remember how you felt in the forest, when I held your sex in my hand?”

  She nodded, the heat spreading from her neck to her cheeks.

  “It’ll be like that, but much, much more intense.”

  Clelia bit her lip and closed her eyes, anticipation alone putting a strain on her breathing.

  “I only ask one thing, Cle, that you keep your eyes open for me. You’ll want to close them, but I need to see you, to know what you feel.” His smile turned awkward. “I’ve never been with a virgin. This is a first time for me too, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She only nodded again, already feeling her body preparing itself for his possession.

  “Lift your arms,” he said.

  His voice sounded strong and sure, and it was what Clelia needed. For tonight, she needed him to take control, to be her teacher and her guide. When she obeyed, he went down on one knee, taking the fabric of her dress in his hands and moving it up her body, painstakingly slow, until he pulled it over her head. She stood in front of him only in white lacy underwear and the silk shoes.

  To her embarrassment, Josselin took a step back to look at her. He threw the dress over the chest at the foot of the bed and studied her leisurely. It took all her willpower not to cover herself with her arms, but to stand bravely in front of his scrutinizing gaze. Finally, he moved to her again, his hands going to the shoulder straps of her bra, pushing them down. His lips brushed over one shoulder and then the other while his fingers expertly released the clip at the back.

  Clelia’s breasts peaked as he pulled the garment away from her body, releasing it to fall by her feet. She watched him as he watched her. She felt the caresses he dealt with his eyes as intensely as if he actually touched her, and all he did was look at her. Their eyes briefly met as he tore his gaze away from her nakedness, and what she saw in his made her catch her breath. They smoldered, turning another shade darker as he reached out to cup her breasts. She gasped at the contact, feeling her flesh swell in a mysterious way for him. He stroked her hard nipples with his open palms, causing her muscles to contract deliciously. She didn’t expect the sharp pinch from his fingers rolling her nipples, extending them toward him, and it sent an arrow straight to her sex, causing more juices to pool between her legs. Releasing her breasts, his hands lowered to her panties, his fingers slipping inside the elastic to pull them down her legs and over her feet. His fingers trailed over her legs, belly and breasts as he straightened.