Heather laughed softly. “The Dragon is blind, for where he sees anger, I see courage.”
His dark eyes heated. “Watch your tongue, wife.”
“Or what? Will you cut it out?”
“Never, for I want the pleasure of feeling your tongue lick my hard manhood until I spill my seed.” His hand grabbed roughly between her legs. “And my tongue will be sure to return the favor.”
Heather brought her lips close to his and whispered, “Promise?”
Her response shocked Rhys and he felt his loins turn hard. His hand shot up and grabbed the back of her neck and held her firm as his lips descended on hers.
There was no tenderness in his kiss and Heather did not care. She had hungered for it since he had made her come in the solar. And she wanted to come again only this time she wanted him inside her. She wanted what she had waited so long for...to make love with Quinn.
Rhys felt his need for her grow out of control. He did not even want to wait and strip her bare. He wanted to hike her skirt up and bury himself deep inside her until they both were breathless and spent.
He hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around him and grabbed hold of his shoulders as he walked over to a waist-high chest and sat her on it while continuing to kiss her. He ripped at her blouse, freeing her breasts and squeezing one plump breast then the other, before teasing the nipples hard for him to enjoy.
She let out a soulful moan when his mouth left hers, but it soon turned to a pleasurable one when his tongue settled over her nipple to suckle it. Her passion soared and so did her need to touch him. She reached over his shoulders and grabbed his shirt, yanking it up and he lifted his head so that she could pull it off him.
His tongue returned to her nipple and her hands roamed down his back, feeling his muscles grow taut at her touch, and she grew impatient. She wanted him inside her.
She grabbed the sides of her skirt and yanked them up, spreading her legs as she did. She leaned down, her lips near his ear. “Please, I need you inside me now.”
Rhys raised his head and took a step back, his fingers going to the ties at his waist to free himself when he suddenly realized what he was doing and stopped. This was not right, taking her for the first time here on top of a dusty chest. This was not what he wanted for her, not what he had planned, and not what he had waited for.
He stepped back, yanking her skirt down as he did.
Heather stared at him. What had happened? Had she done something wrong?
“This will wait until tonight,” he said, stepping away from her.
“Why?”
“Because I command it,” he snapped.
“I have waited long enough. I want you now,” she demanded.
“No!” he shouted and walked to the door afraid he would lose control and take her like he would a common wench who wanted nothing more than a fast rutting. He stopped by the door. “We are leaving here. Now cover yourself.”
Heather jumped off the chest, ignoring his command and leaving her breasts free. “You may be, but I am not.”
“You will do as I say,” he ordered sharply.
“Make me,” she challenged her unrequited passion urging her on.
Rhys glared at her and seeing the flush to her face, her lips plump with passion, her nipples hard and her eyes hungry, he said, “Are you sure you want it this way?”
“Must the Dragon truly ask permission?’
Rhys felt the darkness awaken inside him and felt dangerous memories he fought to keep locked away begin to surface and inflame his loins. He walked toward her and when he reached her, he ripped her blouse and skirt off her, saying, “I will have you naked when I take you.”
He lifted her and once again sat her on the dusty chest, then tore at the ties at his waist and freed himself, his manhood bursting free. He grabbed her about the waist and brought her forward to balance at the edge of the chest, but it was not his manhood that entered her, but his finger.
She protested while trying to squirm away. “I want you.”
“Challenge the Dragon, wife, and you pay the price.”
Heather gasped as he held her firm and his finger continued to tease her. But it was when his mouth descended between her legs to torment the sensitive bud with his tongue that her head fell back and she moaned so loudly it echoed off the stone walls.
She was going to come; she could feel the climax growing ever stronger. She shoved at his shoulders. “Please, Rhys, please, I want you inside me,” she begged.
He stopped, though his finger lingered inside her, teasing her ever so lightly, keeping her on the edge of climax. “You think to challenge me?”
Heather saw darkness like no other in his eyes. It swirled and gathered like a raging storm about to unleash its fury, and she knew she had foolishly stirred the Dragon from his dark nest.
She reached out, resting her hand gently against his cheek. “I do not wish to challenge you, husband. I wish for you to make love to me and finally make me your wife.”
Husband. The word sunk deep into Rhys and he shut his eyes for a moment, forcing the Dragon back down into the darkness, anger and passion—a dangerous combination— having awakened him. Only when he safely had returned the beast to his slumber, did Rhys open his eyes. “Never stir the Dragon again, for the beast has no soul and when fully unleashed he will not care what he does.”
Rhys lifted her off the chest and retrieved his shirt from the floor, slipping it over Heather’s head to cover her. He then took her hand and tugged her along behind him as he descended the stairs to their bedchamber.
“This time stay where I put you,” he ordered curtly and left her there alone.
Heather sunk down on the floor, tears clouding her eyes. What had she done? She had been desperate to make love with Quinn, never realizing she would have to battle the Dragon to do so. A tear slipped down her cheek. Now what did she do?
She hugged herself, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of the Dragon drifted up off his shirt and wrapped around her possessively. It intoxicated her senses, just like his touch had, turning her vulnerable in his hands. Or was it her love for Quinn that had turned her vulnerable?
She stood and hugged the shirt to her, favoring the feel of it against her soft skin, for it felt like he was caressing her. She shook her head and striped the shirt off and as she tossed it aside, the door opened and her husband walked in.
Rhys stared at her for a moment, then turned his head to peer past the partially open door and said, “I will kill any man who disturbs me.” He shut the door and dropped the latch, then shed his garments, and walked over to her.
His arms shot out, scooping her up so fast that she let out a gasp.
“Now, Heather, I make you my wife—my way.”
He laid her on the bed, going down alongside her, and reaching out he let his fingers play across her soft skin ever so lightly, skimming her nipples that turned harder with each faint touch.
Gooseflesh ran over her when he grazed her nipples and she shivered when his fingers swept across the sensitive nub hidden in the triangle of blonde hair between her legs. He was laying claim to every inch of her and she did not mind, for she had surrendered her heart to him many years ago.
“Turn over,” he said and she did.
His fingers continued to explore her, though this time his lips followed suit, kissing and nipping at the back of her neck, and along her shoulders as his fingers found their way down over her buttocks to squeeze it gently.
He did not ask her to turn over again, his arm went around her waist and with one swift turn he had her on her back.
She reached out, needing to do some of her own exploring and ran her fingers over his chest. He grabbed her hand when she moved to explore lower and stretched it above her head, then settled his lips on hers. His kiss was gentle and she responded in kind.
He released her hand and began to explore her again and her body responded, arching up demanding more from him. When his fingers finally
teased between her legs, she felt her passion spark in anticipation, but again his touch remained tender.
She grew more eager as he slipped over her and spread her legs with his knee before settling between them.
“I mean you no pain,” he whispered as his hard manhood probed between her legs.
Heather spread her legs wider, eager for him to plunge inside her and make her come harder than she had in his solar. But he did not plunge inside her. He entered her slowly and Heather felt her impatience mount. Finally with a sudden thrust, she arched her back, forcing him deep inside her.
She let out a small cry and he stopped all movement.
“Do not stop,” she begged, wanting more from him...much more.
Rhys did as she asked, keeping his rhythm firm and steady and when her fingers dug into his arms and she cried out his name, he knew she was ready to come. He quickened his rhythm and no soon as he did, she cried out his name once again.
Heather felt the climax hit her and while it felt wonderful, it was not as strong as what she had experienced in his solar earlier. She continued to move against him as if she had not gotten enough, as if something was missing. She thought she felt Rhys come, his body tightening, but she could not be sure, for he made no sound.
He rolled off her soon after and as he lay beside her, she thought how lovely and how tender he had been with her just as she had imagined Quinn would be. She had imagined this moment often throughout the years.
She turned on her side and Rhys turned as well, tugging her against him and holding her firm as if he feared she would escape him. He spoke not a word to her and none came to her as well. She hoped sleep would claim her soon for her thoughts disturbed her. But sleep claimed Rhys first, avoiding her completely.
A single tear trickled from the corner of her eye. She loved Quinn. She had loved him from the first time she had laid eyes on him and he had once told her that he had felt the same. Nothing would ever change that love, then why was it that she wanted the Dragon in her bed?
Chapter Nineteen
Heather was relieved when she woke to an empty bed. She yawned and stretched, trying to chase the fatigue that still clung to her. Her endless thoughts had soon turned to worry that barely let her sleep last night. There was no denying that she had been disappointed in the moment she had dreamed about so often through the years. Worse though, was the thought that she could very well be slipping into the darkness with the Dragon, just as he had warned she might do.
While Quinn’s touch was nice, it did not fire her soul like the Dragon’s demanding touch.
She shook her head, trying to make sense of the fact that the Dragon and Quinn were one and yet they were different. What had happened to Quinn that had turned him into the Dragon? And why when Quinn had for a brief time broken free of the Dragon’s hold and revealed his old self, did she prefer the Dragon?
She shook her head again. She did not want to descend into the Dragon’s darkness, but she would go anywhere and do anything to save Quinn. She loved him beyond reason, which meant, she also loved the Dragon.
A knock sounded at the door and she called out for the person to enter, glad for a reprieve from her troubling thoughts.
Nessa bustled in with a serving tray and a smile. “It is nigh on noon, my lady.”
Heather jumped out of bed. “I have never slept that long. I have lost half the day.”
Nessa placed the tray on the small table and moved a chair over to it, holding it out for Heather to sit. “The Dragon said you had a restless night and that you were not to be disturbed, though I was to check on you from time to time.”
He knew she had not slept well, but how? Had he not as well? If he had not, she had not known it, for he had barely moved the entire night.
“Did your head wound pain you, my lady?” Nessa asked, going to tend the bed after Heather was seated.
Before Heather could let Nessa know that her head was feeling much better, the bump fading in size and pain, she heard Nessa gasp. Heather was about to ask what was wrong when she realized it herself. There was proof on the bedding that the wedding vows had finally been sealed.
Nessa turned. “You are well, my lady?”
“Very well, Nessa.”
“I will see to washing these myself,” Nessa said, gathering up the bedding and went on talking. “There is much speculation of what is being kept hidden in the barn.”
Heather’s interest caught as fast as a flame did to a wick. She had completely forgotten about yesterday when her husband had abruptly left the Great Hall with Fife and Pitt. “Fife has said no more to you?”
“He insists it is too gruesome to discuss with me, though I have heard something, but I believe it more tale than truth.”
“Tell me,” Heather urged.
Nessa lowered her voice to a whisper. “I heard a severed head has been found, though no one is saying who it belongs to and since all ghost warriors are accounted for,” —she shrugged—“who knows who it could be.”
“That is awful.” Heather shivered, feeling terrible for the poor soul and wondering how she could get into the barn and see the head for herself. “Is that where my husband is now?”
Nessa shook her head. “No, my lady. He spent the morning in his solar with Pitt, and then took to the practice field about an hour ago. He is usually there a couple of hours or more each day.”
That would give her enough time to see if she could get into the barn. “Does the door remain guarded?”
“Aye, though the guard now remains hidden and eyes will remain on you wherever you go, so Fife tells me.”
Heather smiled. “A romance brews with Fife?”
Nessa blushed. “I believe it does. He grows upset when he sees Pitt talking with me.” She giggled. “I think he is jealous, though he has no reason to be, I have no interest in Pitt. I do wonder why Pitt bothers with me. I give him no cause to think I have any interest in him and yet it is as though he seeks me out.” She smiled. “I must admit that he is interesting to talk with and easy to look upon and a woman could get lost in his deep blue eyes.” She shook her head. “But he is not for the likes of me. One good poke and he would not look my way again.” Nessa gasped. “I am sorry, my lady, I should not speak of such things with you.”
“I am glad that you do,” Heather said. “It reminds me of when I would talk with my sisters and helps me to miss them a little less. Now I should dress and be about, for I have wasted too much of the day already.”
~~~
“What are you trying to do, kill them?” Pitt asked, handing Rhys a cloth.
Rhys took it and wiped the sweat from his face. He ignored the sweat that clung to his naked chest. He was not done yet; there was more fight left in him. “They will face a mighty foe and I want them prepared.”
Prepared is one thing, dead is another. If you do not go easy—”
“Easy? You think the enemy will go easy?” Rhys turned to the group of his warriors, looking ready to collapse. “Do you wish to live?”
All the men nodded vigorously.
“Then fight like you mean it or die cowards.”
The men straightened and drew their shoulders back.
Rhys walked into the middle of the practice field, sword in hand. “You think your enemy will give you pause to rest, to catch a needed breath? The enemy will strike again and again and not stop striking until every one of you lies dead and the ground is soaked with your blood.” He raised his sword. “The first one to leave a mark on me shall be generously rewarded.”
The warriors lunged forward, attacking the Dragon.
In minutes, they all laid at the Dragon’s feet.
Pitt shook his head as he handed Rhys the cloth once again. He kept his voice low when he said, “My words will stir your wrath, but better your wrath be stirred than you kill your men. Go to your wife and let the Dragon loose. He needs feeding.”
Rhys turned a furious scowl on him.
It did not deter Pitt from continuing to sp
eak. “That day you found me in that pit I was no longer the man I had once been. He had to die so that I could live and so that day Pitt was born. You did the same. The Dragon was born out of necessity. It is who you are now and who you will always be. You are being unkind to your wife to let her think otherwise.” Pitt turned and went to help the fallen men to their feet and wake those still unconscious.
Rhys stood there, cloth in hand, Pitt’s words leaving him to think on something he had not wanted to since he woke this morning. He had refused to let the Dragon loose last night, though God help him he had wanted to, but he feared the results. He would frighten his wife and forever keep her from their bed, and he did not want that. Yet he also did not want it to be the way it was last night between them. He had found no pleasure in making love to her and he could tell her pleasure was not what it had been in the solar when he made her come.
But the Dragon was a hungry one, having had two or three women in one night and had still been left hungry. He was also more demanding than gentle, but perhaps it had been because he was always trying to assuage his sexual hunger that never seemed to abate. He thought perhaps with Heather it might be different. The only difference was how disappointing it had been.
Pitt was right. He was not who he once was and never would be again and he was foolish to think he could somehow revisit the past and make it right.
Rhys turned. “Those who can still stand better be ready to fight me.”
~~~
Heather left the keep, knowing eyes followed her every step. The question was...how could she avoid those eyes?
It was an overcast day with a light breeze in the air, making it feel more like early autumn than summer. The village was busy, women tending their gardens, children playing, and men making repairs on the few things still in need.
Heather smiled and returned greetings as she walked around the village, making certain she could see the barn from different angles. One guard stood at the front, the barn door closed, not that she could gain entrance that way. And there was no point in trying to gain entrance the way she had the last time. Her husband no doubt had had the loose board sealed.
Highlander The Dark Dragon Page 16