With his thumbs he carefully tilted her face upward, leaning toward her slowly, so slowly…until he was but a breath away. He murmured her name, his lips barely touching hers. Glenys closed her eyes and stood very still, waiting for him to press his mouth fully on her own, but he seemed content to tease her, brushing his lips back and forth, murmuring words she couldn’t understand, until Glenys at last lifted up on her toes to close the space between them.
It seemed to be what he’d been waiting for. Kieran’s mouth covered her own gently but firmly, not staying still, as hers did, but moving in a slow, sensuous manner that was so pleasurable it drove every remaining bit of fear out of Glenys’s body. One of his hands slid down her back to her waist, drawing her even nearer. Glenys hadn’t realized she’d lifted her own hands to circle his neck until she felt his warm, smooth skin beneath her fingers. She nearly lifted them away again but Kieran murmured, “Nay, I like it when you touch me,” against her lips, and she left them as they were.
After a few moments, she began to copy him, moving her mouth in the same, delicious slow movements, finding that it not only made Kieran murmur in appreciation but also increased her own pleasure. When he parted his lips over hers she didn’t hesitate to do likewise; he was so skilled and self-assured that she could do naught but trust him and let him do as he wished.
She had never dreamed that anything could feel so wonderful. His hands moved over her, caressing, petting, stroking. Somehow her robe had fallen to the floor, and his fingers skimmed the most sensitive places along her bare arms, causing her to shudder and press more fully against him. And then he began to touch her lips with his tongue, so warm and moist and sinful, gliding in the lightest of caresses. She hadn’t realized that people could kiss in such a way…she was certain it was unutterably wicked…but, God’s mercy, it felt so good.
His hands slid slowly to her hips, cupping and drawing her against him. Glenys gasped at the shocking intimacy and what it meant. He wanted her. To lie with her. She could feel his manhood, hard and fully aroused, against her most delicate place, pressing almost as if he would join them together through their clothing. His mouth yet consuming hers, Kieran held Glenys firmly and began to rock with her, back and forth, in a sensual rhythm, until she felt the measure of her own desire growing to an undeniable, fevered pitch.
Gasping, Kieran pulled his lips away and pressed his forehead against her own, his breath harsh and unsteady, pelting her face.
“Let us lie together,” he murmured, his voice shaking with desire. “I would pleasure you, Glenys, but I vow I will not take your maidenhead from you. Do you trust me?”
Unable to speak, she nodded. Kieran bent and picked her up in his arms, striding to the high feather bed that sat in the middle of the chamber. Despite the fire, the air about them was cold, seeping through the closed balcony doors from the storm outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the smell of rain was heavy.
The sheets were cool and soft against Glenys’s heated flesh when Kieran gently placed her in the bed. A moment later he climbed in beside her, still wearing his leggings, and reached to pull the covers about them both.
Kieran was half pressed against Glenys, half leaning over her. She could feel the tremendous power of his body, so much greater than her own. He began to kiss her again, touching her face with the fingertips of one hand, stroking lower, down her neck, lightly, barely brushing against her skin, and lower still, until he had reached the laces of her chemise.
Kieran slid one of his legs between hers, coming slightly on top of her. Again Glenys could feel the power of his arousal hard against her thigh. Her chemise had come fully undone, and she felt his hand glide between the parted cloth, his long, beautiful fingers brushing over the tip of one of her breasts. Her nipples were painfully hardened and sensitive, and the delicate touch made her shiver with pleasure. His mouth slid lower, kissing her cheeks, her chin, her neck. Glenys stretched, lifting her chin so that he might have access to all of her. Her body was filled with a wholly new delight, a pleasure so wonderful that she could never have guessed at it. She could no longer think that it was wicked or that she would find herself a fallen, sinful woman come morn—she could only feel, and each new touch of Kieran’s hands and mouth was a revelation.
He had parted the front of her chemise so that she lay fully exposed and could feel the warmth of his breath as he hovered above her.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, gazing at her in the dim firelight. “So very beautiful, Glenys.”
He lowered his head and touched his tongue to one of her nipples, licking it lightly. It was such a shocking pleasure that Glenys nearly came off the bed. Kieran’s hand, now stroking up beneath the skirt of her garment, held her down, as did his mouth, which covered her nipple fully.
“Oh,” she uttered, almost incoherent at how good it felt. He suckled harder and she twisted beneath him, her fingers finding their way into his long, silky hair and fisting. It must have hurt, but he only chuckled and moved to torment her other breast with the same sweet pleasure.
Later, Glenys would be amazed at how easily she gave way to him. He could have done anything at all that he pleased—taken her virginity and found his own pleasure as well as hers. But he did not. He touched her with his hands, pressed his fingers gently inside of her while Glenys moaned and strove for him to go deeper. He whispered to her as he carefully and skillfully caressed her, telling her that she was beautiful and very dear to him, that he held her far above all women. Such beautiful lies, she knew, but ’twas so sweet to hear the words, especially in that moment as he pressed even nearer and gifted her with shattering pleasure.
Afterward, she lay in his arms, trembling and breathing unevenly, her heartbeat slowing by degrees as his hands slid over her arms, her back. He was breathing harshly, too, and she felt his arousal still hard and unappeased.
Gingerly, she reached down to touch that part of him, only to have him stiffen and groan as if in pain.
“Nay, do not,” he said, his arms tightening about her.
“Can I not give you pleasure, as you did to me?” she asked timidly.
He grasped her hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing it.
“Aye, sweeting, but I have good reason that it not be so—at least not till morn.”
“But why?”
“Because I would have you know that I did not come to you this night for that. Tonight was only for your pleasure, not mine. I would always have you remember it thus.”
Glenys stared up at him in wonder, thinking of what it cost him to make her this gift. But she could not let him suffer so. His face was taut and filled with misery. She strove to sit up.
“Nay,” he insisted, firmly holding her down, “do not argue the matter with me, Glenys. I vow I am too near to giving way to speak of it further. Only let me hold you now, while you slumber. Come morn, I promise, you may do whatever you please to me—and I pray you will. I’faith, I shall gladly show you whatever you wish to know.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next few days were among the happiest Kieran had ever known, and that was saying a great deal; he had known many pleasurable days—aye, far more, he supposed, than most men might dream of.
But being with Glenys, especially as he was with her now, gave him a sustenance he’d not known before. He had accepted that he would ever feel a certain lack because of his manner of birth, and that naught would ever change it, but he’d not realized how greatly loving someone and, even more, being loved by that person, would assuage the emptiness inside him.
He’d always tried to end his relationships with women almost as soon as they began, but not this time. Their journey to Wales was meandering at best, creeping at worst, and Jean-Marc was becoming openly aggravated, despite the happy state of his own situation with Dina. Kieran knew of a certainty that they’d shared a bed at Hammersgate, and Glenys, though she refused to speak of it, knew it as well. But there would be no difficulty for Jean-Marc and Dina to embrace a more f
ormal union; she was not of high birth, and Jean-Marc had set aside enough treasure from his years of wandering with Kieran to take a wife and live out his remaining days as comfortably as a rich lord. As well, unlike Glenys, Dina had no family to contest such a match, while Glenys’s family…But Kieran didn’t let himself think on them, or on the surety that Daman Seymour was fast on their trail.
Kieran was quite familiar with the part of Wales that Glenys directed them toward; he and Jean-Marc had made a habit of visiting the area at least once each year. How strange it was that Glenys’s ancestral estate should be so near to one of his favorite brothels, stranger yet to think that at some time or other in the past, they might have been within but miles of each other. Mayhap their paths had even crossed a time or two when Glenys and her family journeyed into the town of Cardigan to purchase supplies.
They had journeyed south from York and followed Offa’s Dyke along the border of Wales before turning inward and crossing the mountains toward Aberystwyth. From there they had followed the coast toward their destination, Cardigan, though Glenys called it by its Welsh name, Aberteifi.
She had grown almost immediately easy and relaxed upon crossing into Wales, as if she had arrived at her soul’s true home. Kieran had not realized just how fully she embraced her Welsh heritage, not only the language and manners, but a complete belief in all things Welsh. The rest of England might not have existed, or even the rest of the world. Here was what mattered to her, and this was the place where she was at peace.
He had not heard her speak her native tongue until they had reached the Berwyn Mountains and stayed the night in a small village there. Glenys spent more than an hour in conversation with the village elders, asking questions about Caswallan, Sir Anton and the Greth Stone. Kieran stood at a distance, watching, admiring. Her face had become so expressive; her hands fluttered with motion as she made herself clear. Her behavior had been all that was respectful and polite, and the elders responded accordingly, recognizing both her family name and that she had the manner of one well born, despite the condition of her dress and the mode of her travel. Kieran, by previous agreement, posed as her husband, while Jean-Marc and Dina had readily taken on the roles of man-and maidservant.
Kieran thought he had done particularly well, acting out his part as Glenys’s haughty English lord. He’d clearly been successful, for the villagers had looked at him with open disdain and at Glenys with pity and understanding. ’Twas not uncommon for fine Welsh ladies to be forced into marriage with English lords, especially a Welsh lady with both property and fortune.
She came away from the encounter satisfied that she had been right about Caswallan’s whereabouts, but disappointed to have yet had no word of an Englishman fitting Sir Anton’s description. Caswallan clearly troubled her very little, but Sir Anton weighed heavily in her mind, despite Kieran’s assurances that he could easily handle the fellow.
“Surely he’s in Wales,” she told him that night as they sat together, feasting on bowls of a wonderful leek stew that Kieran couldn’t seem to get enough of. “He would not have delayed his search for Caswallan once you agreed to take Dina and me from London.”
“But mayhap he did,” Kieran said, setting his third empty bowl aside, “even if to make certain that I kept my word after I took his gold.”
“But even so,” Glenys argued, “he would have left for Wales almost at once. He should have been here for weeks now, but how is it that no word of such a strange Englishman has been heard? He is just the sort of brightly dressed lordling the people would be wary of.”
“If he’s remained in south Wales, as you think, then they’d not have heard of him here,” Kieran told her. “Certainly in none of these little villages, where they hear little of what has happened about them. Caswallan would be a different matter, for he’s not only known to be a Welsh sorcerer, but has held the Greth Stone for many months. Word of him would spread far more quickly than word of a strange Englishman.”
“Aye,” Glenys had agreed slowly, “that is so. S’truth, that must be why we’ve heard nothing of Sir Anton yet. Mayhap when we come closer to Aberteifi, ’twill be different. I cannot be easy until we know where he is. You think him a weak and foolish man, but there is a measure of cunning in him, and you know firsthand that he has no conscience against killing.”
“He has surprised me in that,” Kieran admitted, “but whatever cunning he possesses is blunted by desperation. He did not make his plans well in dealing with us, because he acted without care, and ’tis likely that he’ll do the same in striving to gain the Greth Stone from Caswallan. He’ll trap himself. And then,” Kieran promised, stroking a finger down her soft cheek, wanting to smooth away the worries he saw on her face, “I will deal with Sir Anton Lagasse.”
That night, in the small hut they’d been given by the villagers, she paced back and forth, murmuring to herself thoughtfully in Welsh until Kieran was so aroused that he couldn’t help but take her in his arms. There was something about it, hearing her speak in the Welsh tongue, which she called Cymraeg, that made him feel half-crazed. She seemed to realize quickly just how it was, and began to seduce him not only with touches, but with her words as well. It had been that way every night since, and Kieran, for all his vast experience, had never known anything better.
For a woman who was yet a virgin, Glenys was astonishingly adept at seduction. From the morning they’d come awake at Hammersgate she’d been an ardent student, and Kieran her willing tutor. But she’d surprised him at how very demanding she could be, wanting to know everything all at once—all the secrets and skills that he’d spent years perfecting. Fortunately for Kieran, Glenys learned quickly and well. Unfortunately, she used her newfound skills to turn him into a mindless, helpless slave, ready and willing to do her bidding, whatever it might be.
It was a miracle that she was yet pure for marriage. In years to come Kieran would look back and marvel at how he’d managed to hold himself back from fully possessing her. God alone knew that Glenys didn’t help. She was insistent that she would never marry, and did everything she could to make him lose all sense and join with her as he longed to do. The temptation was near overwhelming, but he held fast to his determination not to bring her to ruin. Perhaps it was the memory of Elizabet’s shame and misery that gave him such strength of will. He couldn’t bear to think of parting with Glenys, mayhap leaving her with his child, and of what she would suffer because of such momentary passion. He had ever been careful not to leave any of his lovers with child, but with Glenys he would take no chances. Nay, it was enough that they were together and that they gave each other such sweet pleasure. It was more than he had hoped he might share with her, and far more than he knew he should.
Cardigan was among the most ancient Welsh cities, as well as one of the most prosperous. Its bustling seaport brought both prominence and a great many foreigners to the town, and wealth to the English, who dominated the entire land. No Welsh man, woman or child was allowed to live within the town’s borders, Glenys told Kieran as they made their way along the main road, a lingering punishment for the rebellion of Owain Glyndwr. Her voice rang with unrepentant anger as she spoke of how unjust the English were in their treatment of the Welsh…until Kieran reminded her that her family owned vast properties in England, not just Wales, and Metolius in London one of the brightest jewels among them.
Glenys, sitting before him on Nimrod, drew herself up straight. “There is no choice for us save to live in London throughout much of the year,” she told him, “for the many businesses held by my family require it. But Wales is our home—our true home. ’Tis where the heart of the Seymours will always be.”
“How far is your family’s estate from Cardigan?” he asked. “You said it was in Dyfed?”
She nodded. “Just beyond Presili. ’Tis called Glain Tarran—the jewel in the rock. We will pass it when we journey to the hills.”
Kieran didn’t ask if she wished to stop there on their way; it would be far too dangerous to
do so. Yet he needed to know where he might safely leave her once Caswallan had been found and dealt with. He intended to go after Sir Anton on his own, and would settle with Daman privately if he could, as well. If he could possibly put Glenys in Glain Tarran before that, he would. Whether she wanted to go or not.
“You must point it out to me when we journey past it. It is very old, is it not?”
She nodded. “Ages old,” she said, sighing, “but I cannot promise that you will be able to see it. Glain Tarran is not always visible to all people.”
“Not visible?” Kieran repeated, not certain that he wanted to know what that meant.
Glenys shifted uncomfortably before him. “’Tis not simple to explain. Usually the castle is easily seen from a distance, but at other times… ’tis more difficult to find. The weather is, um, strange in that part of the country. Fogs come and go almost without warning.”
“Fogs that hide entire castles?”
Glenys cleared her throat. “Aye.”
“Mayhap that is why Glain Tarran is so ancient,” Kieran suggested dryly. “That would be most convenient during a war, do you not think? To become invisible from time to time?”
“There is no magic to it,” Glenys said sternly. “It simply happens.”
“Nay, of course there is no magic to it,” Kieran agreed at once, smiling at the ire that came into her voice. He heard it each time she realized that he didn’t believe her explanations regarding the mysteries surrounding her family. She was so delightfully determined never to believe in what he found perfectly obvious—that magic was real. He wished he could find the way to convince her, but wasn’t sure it was possible. If her family couldn’t manage the task, how could anyone else? “I’m certain the entire estate disappears just as you say, because of the weather. Have you ever noticed that ’tis often very windy near the Presili hills? The fog must have a difficult time hiding great castles there.”
Her elbow came back sharply, hitting its mark, and Kieran’s laughter spilled out of him. He pulled Glenys against him and hugged her hard, kissing her cheek.
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