heartofthebetrayed_195-8e3.htm

by Heart Of The Betrayed (lit)

  It was as though a bolt of lightening followed the searing path of his hand, but where his hand stopped intimately against the apex of her thighs, the lightening tore straight through the soft, hot folds beneath the split skirt, and burned into her womanhood.

  In shocked surprise, Dana fell off the branch. Literally.

  Garret saw the stunned expression on her face and felt the startled shift of her body. Swiftly he removed his hand, just in time to catch her against himself, only he was too close to the branch to keep his balance and fell backwards with her in his arms.

  They landed on the thick grass and lay for several seconds in surprised stillness, Dana sprawled atop him.

  Regaining her senses, she reared up on her arms. "You idiot!"

  Lazily, he grinned up into her furiously blushing face. "You told me to move my hand, my little strawberry. I was merely doing as bidden."

  "I meant take your hand away, as you very well know!"

  Mock remorse showed on his laughing face. "My apologies. I’m but a simple man who--"

  "Oh, cut the crap!" she snapped, pushing up onto her knees. Then her throat went dry as she realized that she sat straddling his hips.

  Garret realized it in the same instance, and the teasing laughter fled his eyes to be replaced with a more intense expression. Slowly he raised his hands to curl around her waist.

  She started to pull away. "This isn’t a good idea--" She stopped abruptly when his hold tightened.

  His blood was warming up, the sweet weight and feel of slender, strong thighs on each side of his hips fanning the flames a little hotter. But seeing the alarm in the wide eyes, he exercised iron control on the rising desire.

  Nay, he wasn’t going to scare her off this time. He had other plans, namely that she was going to learn that she could touch and kiss him without him immediately trying to drag her off to bed. It was the perfect opportunity to get the skittish warrior used to engaging in some intimacy with him. It was going to kill him, Garret thought ruefully but he was determined to keep desire reigned in until the wench straddling his hips with growing apprehension was ready for him.

  The strong hands held her down on lean hips. Kneeling on the ground with legs apart, she had no leverage to push upright. Her heart started pounding and her skin felt overly warm.

  "Let me up." The demand came out shakily.

  He regarded her steadily, reassuringly. "Come, lass, do you not admit that a kiss is the most natural thing in the world right now?"

  "Natural?" She laid her palms on the flat, muscle-ribbed stomach, only to jerk them away hastily at the disturbing sensation of the muscles shifting. "Are you out of your mind? This is no time to be thinking of kissing!"

  "Nay?" The hands at her waist slid around to rest in the small of her back. "Tell me, Dana, do you fear the intimacy of a kiss?"

  With him, yes! "Of course not. I’m just not in the mood," she bluffed, trying to appear annoyed, but succeeding only in looking desperate.

  "So let me get you in the mood," he suggested softly. "One kiss, ‘tis all I ask."

  "You ask too much!" She pulled at his arms. "One kiss leads elsewhere. It always does with you!"

  When her hand went behind her back to tug at his, Garret caught it in a gentle but firm grip. "Mayhaps this time will lead no further."

  Yanking ineffectively at her hand, she gave derisive snort. "Oh, sure! You’ll stop, no doubt. I don’t believe that for a second!"

  "What if I were to say that you can set the pace? If it’ll make you feel safer, you can kiss me and I’ll not touch you at all."

  She stopped pulling against his grip. "What do you mean?"

  "That I’ll lay back and let you kiss me. No holding you down, no kissing back unless you give me permission. What say you to that, lass?"

  "Wait for permission?" Even as her heart gave a lurch at the thought of the handsome trader lying still at her mercy, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What’s the catch?"

  "No catch." He regarded her steadily, his own heart pounding a little at the thought of being at her mercy. What a delicious thought.

  Intrigued that Garret, a lusty man who had proven that he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself when around her, promised the exact opposite, she contemplated him thoughtfully. "Why?"

  "Because ‘tis important to me that you learn to trust my word, that you learn to be comfortable around me. That you don’t fear even the simplest intimacy of a kiss."

  Swallowing, she stared down at him. Sincerity shone calmly in his eyes. What would it be like to kiss him at her leisure? To kiss... and taste... him? To feel the strength beneath her fingertips with the knowledge that he wasn’t going to grab her and roll her beneath him? It’d be a heady feeling, she had no doubt.

  "Explore me in the boundaries of your comfort zone." The soft words danced tantalizingly through her ears. "I promise not to explore you in turn--until you give me leave to do so."

  His confidence in himself was emphasized by the sudden releasing of his hold on her. Keeping his gaze on her face, Garret lifted his arms above his head to link his fingers and rest his hands, palms up, in the grass.

  This was dangerous ground she trod. She should take the chance to jump off him and put some distance between them. He wouldn’t follow her, she knew, for he’d not force his attentions on her if she wasn’t willing.

  It was this knowledge that made her hesitate.

  It was this hesitation that gave him the opportunity to slyly prod her pride. "Scared, lass?"

  "Of course not!"

  He hid his satisfaction at the expected response. "Well, then, what are you waiting for?"

  He was too bloody, cocksure of himself! she thought with a brief flash of irritation. As usual. Mayhaps it was time to take him down a peg or two, show him how unaffected she was by his challenge. Scared, indeed!

  Gazing down into the expectant face, Dana wondered just what, exactly, should she do first? Bend down and kiss him? Slide down? Brace herself on her arms and slowly lower herself down?

  The thoughts were jolted by the sudden lift of lean hips and the bending of his long legs.

  With a startled cry, she was pitched forward to land smack onto his chest, her face only inches from his.

  "What the hell--"

  "My apologies," he said, straight-faced. "I was getting into a more comfortable position." And giving an indecisive wench a bit of encouragement.

  Lifting her head enabled her to gaze down at him out of narrowed eyes. "You wouldn’t be trying to take control, would you, trader?"

  "Who, me?" Innocence oozed from the answer. "Perish the thought."

  He was trying to get the best of her. Well, she’d show him. One quick kiss and she’d be up and off to a safe distance. Forty feet away should do it.

  One swift kiss, a mere press of lips to lips, followed but before she could jump up in triumph, he drawled wickedly, "A thirteen-year-old Daamen lass can kiss better than that."

  "How would you know? Do you make it a practice to ravish young wenches?"

  His grin was taunting. "I was thirteen once, and so was the lass who blew my boots away with her kiss. Of course, she wasn’t scared of real kissing."

  "Real kissing? And just what, to you, is real kissing?"

  "Deep, open and hot." He sighed. "But ‘tis all right, I understand. You’re still worried--"

  "Oh, shut up! I’m wise to you, trader. You’re just trying to goad me into giving you what you want."

  A rueful smile curved his lips. "‘Tis not working, eh?"

  She smirked. "Not in the least."

  "Ah, well." His sigh was more serious this time, genuinely regretful. "If that peck is all the kiss you’ll give me, I’ll be grateful for it." One hand came up to ruffle his hair before lowering to the carpet of grass again, leaving a lock of hair lying across his brow.

  Without thinking, she reached out and gently brushed the lock back, her fingers sinking into the thick mass of hair. Idly she noted how silky it was, belying t
he untidy, rumpled, rough look. It was really quite soft, she mused, running her fingers through the silken strands.

  Glancing down, she stilled.

  Grey eyes had darkened and now gazed unblinkingly up at her, intense and deep.

  It was a mistake to meet his eyes, for the mysterious depths seemed to draw her down into them, the intensity reaching inside her to touch her nerves, and send them tingling. She became breathtakingly aware of her softness and curves pressed to the hard swells and dips of the man lying beneath her.

  Unconsciously, her hand moved from his hair, sliding lightly along his temple and the chiseled cheekbones, coming to a stop when the muscle in his jaw tightened. She was fascinated by the embers of passion smoldering in the stormy eyes.

  "Kiss me, Dana."

  It was a request she couldn’t refuse, for her reason had been vanquished by answering desire. She wanted to kiss him. Thoroughly.

  When the soft lips touched his, it took all Garret’s willpower to keep his hands on the ground. Even while teasing her, he’d been acutely conscious of the curved body against his, her soft breasts pressed to his chest. Hip to hip. Womanhood against manhood. Agonizingly wonderful.

  The kiss was tentative at first, her lips feathering lightly across his before growing bolder, more firm, moving and molding, then she did what his mind cried out to her to do.

  Her small tongue ran along the seam of his lips, shyly seeking entrance.

  With a groan he opened to her and sweetly she invaded him. He had to dig his fingers into the earth to stop himself from taking possession of her mouth, remembering his promise not to kiss back until she indicated her willingness.

  It was torture and pleasure mixed into one.

  He tasted clean and the way she imagined only Garret to taste. An essence of masculinity with a touch of spice. And she couldn’t get enough of him.

  Her hand slid from his cheek down the strong column of his throat and across his shoulder, smoothing over the massive bicep and down his arm, her fingers spreading out over his clenched fist.

  Immediately his hand turned over, his fingers entwining with hers, holding and squeezing lightly but without grabbing. Sheer willpower made his brow damp, and when soft lips traced a burning path down his throat, he had to clench his teeth as his blood thickened hotly.

  He’d never tease her again about her ability to kiss.

  Wanting those sensuous lips again, Dana returned her mouth to his, and it took no coaxing to get him to open for her.

  Becoming aware of the trembling in the body beneath her, she raised her head to gaze down at him, concern vying with passion for supremacy. "What’s wrong?"

  Jaw clenched, his eyes squeezed shut, he replied huskily, "Nothing, lass."

  "Are you unwell?" The fog of desire was pushed back in the presence of worry.

  "Nay!" he gasped out and groaned.

  Anxiety made her roll off to kneel beside him, her hand reaching out to touch his forehead.

  "Are you in pain?"

  His farthest arm came up to drape over his eyes while he gritted out, "Oh God, aye!"

  A feeling of panic was pushed aside by the sensible warrior inside her taking charge. "Where does it hurt? Let me see. Mayhaps I can ease it." Her hand swept down to his stomach and the ribbed muscles grew taut.

  "Aye, you can ease it,’ he gritted out through clenched teeth. "Only you, Dana, but you won’t."

  "If I can ease your pain, Garret, I’ll do so."

  His arm shot out, his strong fingers wrapping around her hand to push it downwards, holding her palm against his groin.

  Dumbfounded, she felt the hard length beneath her hand. Hard and hot, and when he dragged her palm up the thick staff, coming to a stop just below the waistband of his pants, she felt the engorged tip even through the material.

  Shocked, her gaze swung back up to his face and she met eyes blazing with desire.

  "There is my pain, caused by you and eased only by you. But you’re not ready to, are you, Dana?" When she didn’t answer, still too stunned, he pressed her hand once more against the angry tip of his staff and sucked in a hissing breath. "Are you?"

  The feel of an aroused man was not something she was used to in her life. Not in cold clarity. And Garret was a magnificent specimen of manhood. The feel of his great staff produced both fear and desire within her.

  Unable to deal with her own conflicting emotions and the pain etched in the face of the man who watched her so searingly, she jerked her hand away and sprang to her feet.

  With a silent, anguished moan, Garret threw his arm back across his eyes. He’d done it now, frightening her away by forcing her to feel the full power of his need for her. In all probability, she was running for her travel disc with every intention of jumping upon it and fleeing, and he was in no state to stop her, for if he got hold of her now... self control be damned.

  Time passed in agonized slowness but with its passing, so did the hot desire, his staff gradually losing its stiffness, thickness giving way and great length withdrawing.

  Garret became aware of silence, and the conviction that he was alone made him want to do something he hadn’t done since the death of his beloved hound when he was seventeen. He wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all.

  Instead, he swore viciously "Shit! Bloody hell! Rutting, useless, screwing bastard!"

  "Now if I said that, I’d be in trouble," a voice commented dryly.

  Fifteen

  Jerking up into a sitting position, he swung his head to the right to find Dana leaning against the tree trunk, gazing out over the river.

  "Dana?" he asked disbelievingly.

  She kept her gaze on the distant bank of the river. "We had a deal, remember? Time to get to know each other? I agreed, and I don’t easily break my word."

  A warm glow swept through him, totally different to passion. This was pure love. "I thought you had taken fright and ran." Slowly he pushed to his feet.

  Turning around, she found him disturbingly close. He moved fast. He was also able to look her right in the eyes, completely unashamed of his physical evidence of desire earlier. What else had she expected? He was one of a lusty race. A show of passion to one whom he wanted wouldn’t be unusual for him.

  That, however, did not apply to herself. Her cheeks went crimson when she met his eyes and it was only by force of will that she was able to say, "I’m no fool. I know what occurs between man and wench. I’m merely grateful that you didn’t take it further. Now," she nodded decisively and stepped past him. "If you want meat to eat, you’ll have to hunt for it, in which case we better get started."

  Swinging around, he watched in surprise as she retreated, before it dawned on him that she meant to put the episode behind her and continue as before with him.

  That was almost bloody impossible for him. Still, he consoled himself, he would accept the chance she’d given him, and continue to try and win her trust.

  Decision made, he followed her to the cottage, where he found her strapping a small dagger to her thigh. A crossbow lay on the table.

  Picking up the crossbow, she handed it to him. "Come, let’s go."

  Their trek into the forest was silent except for the occasional comment. Garret was determined not to intrude upon Dana’s thoughts, for he felt that her refusal to leave was a major point in his pursuit in winning her trust.

  Dana berated herself for a fool not to have taken the chance to leave. If she were honest with herself, she’d admit how much the trader’s passion frightened her. Oh, not mind-numbing, shaking fear, but a fear of allowing him to continue to try and win her over, only to have to tell him at the end of two weeks that it was pointless. It made her question her sensibilities that she didn’t just call it quits now, but she stood by her word. She’d agreed to a period to let him find out what a nasty bitch she was, then he’d make his own decision to leave her.

  Another basic reason was that she craved time with him, to share his company, so that she’d have a memory to cherish i
n her old age. Much good it would do her then.

  "Bloody maudlin," she muttered to herself, swallowing the lump in her throat.

  "Pardon?" Garret glanced at her.

  "What? Oh, nothing." Her gaze fell on the grass and she saw the crushed plants. "Ah, we have found the meat you seek."

  "We have?"

  "Yes. It’s a lyra, see?" She pointed at the hoof mark but when he shrugged ruefully, she added, "Just trust me."

  They hadn’t gone far when Dana suddenly put her finger to her lips and motioned to him to get down low. On hands and knees she moved stealthily over to a group of bushes and carefully parted several branches with her hand. Glancing over her shoulder, she jerked her head at Garret.

  Holding the crossbow carefully in one hand, he inched his way over and came to a stop beside her. Following the direction of her finger, he saw a magnificent buck standing in dappled shade, sniffing the air.

  "There’s your meat, trader," she whispered. "If you want it, shoot it."

  Silently he raised the crossbow. The lyra moved back a step, big brown eyes glistening in the sunlight, soft and dewy.

  He was beautiful. And no doubt tasty once cooked.

  "Go on, kill it. An arrow straight through the heart. Take its life."

  He turned his head to look at her. She gazed blandly back at him.

  "Well, what are you waiting for?" She indicated the crossbow. "Go and end its pleasure in living."

  Amusement bubbled up inside him. "Are you trying to put me off?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Do it or don’t, it’s up to you."

  Shaking his head, he sighted down the crossbow again at the big lyra, who shifted, head up, as though sensing their presence.

  Thinking of a big slab of juicy meat frying in a pan, his finger tightened on the trigger.

  "I wonder if he has a family somewhere?"

  Whipping his head around, he stared at her. "What?"

  Peering through the bush at the magnificent creature, Dana whispered, "You know, a lyrice and lyro. Do you think he has a mate somewhere?"

  The things the wench thought of! "Do you want me to shoot it or not?"

  "Oh, it’s up to you." Innocent eyes turned to him. "Are you hungry for meat?"