by Andersen,Kai
She had thought she understood then why it was a closely guarded secret. If women knew about it before they were married, they would all opt for singlehood instead.
But now, she knew she was wrong. She believed women would die for the chance to experience the ecstasy that she had found in Rodin’s arms. He was so big, bigger than Michael, which was why she had felt pain, she supposed. But after that momentary pain, it had been all she could do to induce Rodin into the same motions that had driven Michael. For she had felt it with Rodin; she had tasted that elusive element that had caused men and women over the ages to engage repetitiously in the act.
So now she knew.
How ironic that she had not found it with her husband-to-be, but with Rodin -- an old-and-yet-new friend, bodyguard and ... lover.
A thrill tingled through her body.
Lover.
What a cozy and intimate word.
Rodin had brought her to the heights that Michael never had, but she would not tell Rodin. No, she would not tell Michael, either. Ever. It would be a secret she would carry to her grave.
Now she said, “So long as we keep this between the two of us, you need not worry about Michael seeking you out to avenge my honor.”
“If I were him, I would kill every bastard who so much as touched you.”
“You’re going to kill yourself?”
“After I have completed this mission and brought you back to the castle. Then I will ask my king’s permission to ... retire.”
She had been trying to call his bluff, but from his grim tone, it was evident that he was serious. She gave a short burst of laughter as she tried to dislodge the fear that had suddenly lodged itself in her heart. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rodin! This matter does not warrant your death.”
“And if I have given you a child?” His tone was cold and hard.
She sat up on his stomach and laughed, a sound wilder than the first. “You flatter yourself.”
“It has been known to happen.”
“And it could very well be Michael’s.”
She was not prepared for his roar of outrage. “You’re going to pass off my child as his?!”
Giselda let out a sound of exasperation. “I don’t understand you, Rodin, and I’ve decided I don’t want to even try. The point is, we don’t even know if there is going to be a babe or not. All I know is that this is the wrong time in my cycle.”
“That’s good, then.” His strong arms lifted her by the waist and laid her on the bedroll. “Next time you catch me in a nightmare, run as far away as you can.”
“But you’re my friend. I want to help you!” she burst out. The thought that even her touch was repulsive to him added to the anger within.
“You can help me by staying away from me.” His voice turned even colder, ice-cold, as he asked, “Or is it because I saved your life that you decided to sacrifice your virtue? There is no need, princess. It’s my duty to serve and give my life for the royal family.”
Giselda was so frustrated, she wanted to stamp her feet, tear her hair out, and run screaming into the rain. “Believe what you want. But in case it escaped your notice, I was the one who continued the act when you would have pulled away. I was the one who allowed us both to experience that out-of-this-world pleasure. If you have to place blame, you can place it all on my shoulders because I, at least, admit that I wanted it and enjoyed it!”
He stared at her for a long time as she fumed in her anger and outrage. Finally, he said stiffly, “I will face the consequences of my actions when we get back --”
Giselda interrupted in a furious voice, “Meaning you would accept whatever punishment the king doles out.”
“It’s only right.”
“But there’s no need for anyone to know! Think of the damage to my reputation when everyone finds out. You’re going to subject me to that?”
“I’m not so foolish as that. Naturally, I will request to have a private audience with the king. In the meantime, there will be no repeat of the incident. For the rest of the night, and the next few nights, as well, we sleep separately.”
“Fine.” She lay down on the bedroll and pulled the blanket over herself. She was aware of him putting on his shirt and lying down a few feet away from her. She found it hard to sleep, for the wonder and excitement and pleasure of their union kept going ’round and ’round in her head. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. Not to mention that his nobility and stubbornness both pleased and infuriated her.
“Who’s Talina?”
She sensed, rather than saw, him tense.
“No one.”
“You mentioned her name several times during your nightmare.” She didn’t understand this urge to talk about things that made her heart ache. But she wanted to understand him, to know a little more about him.
“Go to sleep, Giselda.” The hard voice held an edge of warning, a warning she ignored.
“Is she the girl you were telling me about?”
“No.”
“You mean there’s another girl?” She sat up and faced him, peeved. “How many girls do you have, Rodin?”
A short bark of laughter burst out from him. “Go to sleep, Giselda.”
“I’m not through with you on this, Rodin.”
Silence.
She didn’t believe he had fallen asleep so soon. “Rodin, do you hear me?”
Silence.
“Rodin!”
Well, he would know soon enough that she wasn’t kidding. They had the whole day ahead of them tomorrow, and that was time enough. Time enough to let him know how serious she was.
Chapter Fourteen
A fist slammed against the tree trunk.
Rodin stared into the distance, noting in some dim part of his mind that his hand hurt.
He couldn’t believe -- he didn’t want to believe -- that Giselda would give herself to that slimy, oily bastard. But the fact was, she had. Not that it mattered that he wasn’t her first -- all right, it bothered him a little. But only a little. All right, it shouldn’t, and he was a bastard, but it did bother him. A lot.
He was more concerned about her. Had the prince made her first time an enjoyable one? He hoped she hadn’t hurt too much, that the prince knew how to make it pleasurable for her, though it killed him to think of the two of them making love, their bodies entwined on her bed, on his bed. Still, did she enjoy having sex with the prince? Did she make all those soft little moans when she was aroused?
Of course she did. He hated the bitterness that welled up in him. If he, Rodin, was able to elicit those moans, how much more the prince, whom she loved?
He wished his hand hurt for a more important reason, like because it had connected with the face of a person, also known as Prince Michael of Ermont, who well deserved the punch.
He didn’t know how long he stood that way before he finally decided that enough was enough. There was nothing he could do about anything. Anyway, he should remember that even if he were the one to have taken Giselda’s virginity, it was unlikely the king would bestow his blessings on this union. She could never be his, for so many reasons that were unimportant in his eyes, and that was that.
Rodin turned to prepare his horse for the day’s journey. He pulled the strap with unnecessary force as he tied the bags to the side of the saddle. He looked back toward the cave. Giselda was still inside, probably changing into her dusty traveling clothes, with Randalin guarding and protecting her virtue from him.
Despite his resolve not to think about it anymore, blood flowed to his groin at the memory of how tight she had been last night, of how sweetly and generously she had given of herself, a privilege he had dreamed of but never dared hoped for. It had been better not knowing, because now that he had tasted of her, he craved her again and again. Those few minutes in Giselda’s arms, with him buried deep in her sheath, were sheer heaven. He had been tempted to take her once more last night, but his own sense of honor had kicked in at the last minute. Bad enough that he had seduced the prince
ss he had sworn to protect; there was no need to compound the error. How could he have betrayed his liege lord like that? Moreover, there was that knowledge that she would never be his. Who was he kidding? Not only would the king not give her to him in marriage, Giselda herself would most likely jump out the window rather than marry him.
So he determined to keep a good distance away from her until he could return her to her prince’s keeping. When that happened, he wasn’t going to shadow them or interfere anymore in whatever they wanted to do. Even if it killed him.
When she came out a moment later, her brows puckered in a worried frown, all his good intentions were shot to hell. He could no more stay away from her than he could from air or water. He needed her like he needed them to stay alive. He didn’t know what he would do when the time came for her wedding, but until then, he would treasure every moment he had with her. Not that she had to know about it.
“What is it, Giselda?” Good, he sounded concerned but aloof.
“It’s Randalin. She’s favoring her right leg.” Her hands twisted together in front of her.
He cursed. He knew how much Randalin meant to Giselda. He hoped the mare’s injury wasn’t so bad that she needed to be put away. Because if that happened, he didn’t know if Giselda could survive it.
He clicked his tongue in sympathy upon seeing the mare’s swollen right foreleg. “She must have sprained it yesterday when we were fighting the storm.” He gently placed the leg back on the ground.
Randalin nickered softly.
Giselda caressed the mare’s nose. “You poor dear.”
Rodin caught the look of adoration and love on her face. Just like that, he was jealous of a horse. He heard it in his voice as he snapped, “Come, we don’t have all day.”
“But I cannot ride Randalin.”
“No, we’ll take it slow today. You ride my horse, and I’ll walk. Maybe we can get another horse at the village. Are you done?”
At her nod, he grasped Randalin’s reins and led her out of the cave. He stopped beside the warhorse and motioned to Giselda. “Come, I’ll help you up.”
“One question, please, Rodin.”
“Go ahead.”
“How much weight can your horse carry?”
“He cannot carry your mare, if that’s what you’re asking.” Jealousy bloomed within him to monstrous proportions and made his voice come out sharper than he intended. What did horse meat taste like?
“Can he carry three men, then?”
“Yes. Even four, if there is space on him.”
Her smile was blinding. “Great! We can both ride him, then.”
Rodin suddenly saw all the dangers in that suggestion. The loyal servant warred with the desperate lover in him. He turned away. “No!”
“Rodin.” She tugged at his arm. “I really feel bad for taking your horse away from you.”
“Then I’ll ride, and you walk,” he snapped.
“All right.”
His irritation faded at her subdued tone, but before he could say a word, she had taken Randalin’s reins from his hand and begun to lead her away, her head bent as she kicked at the ground. He looked after her in exasperation, wondering where this meek Giselda had come from and if he had been the cause of it. If he was, he would never forgive himself. Her spirit was one of the things he admired about her.
Rodin swung himself onto the stallion’s back and rode the few paces necessary to catch up with Giselda. Once he was beside her, he bent and reached out a hand toward her. “C’mon up.”
Giselda didn’t even glance at him. She just continued to plod onward. “You go ahead. I wasn’t part of this mission anyway.”
He withdrew his hand. “Who’ll make me laugh if you’re quitting so soon?”
“If you notice, I’m not laughing right now.”
“Of course. You’re mad if you start laughing for no reason at all.”
“But then, I’m not laughing, because I’m sad.”
“Was it because of what I said?”
“Because you didn’t want me --” He was sure he imagined the slightest pause here. “-- along.”
“I changed my mind,” he said hoarsely. “I decided I needed you to liven up my days.”
She turned her face to him, a bright smile breaking across her lips. A lump formed in his throat. Gods, she was so lovely!
“Great. Your hand, please.” She held up a hand to him. “I need help getting on your horse, he’s so huge.” Red color suffused her cheeks, telling him she was thinking of something else that was huge.
“Something tells me I’ve been duped,” he muttered as she settled in front of him. She leaned her back against his chest and sighed. He felt like sighing himself as his hand found a place on her midriff.
“I would never do that to you,” she protested.
He made a noncommittal sound as he nudged the stallion into a walk. Then he checked to make sure the mare was following behind them. With nothing more to occupy his mind, he became aware of the softness of Giselda’s body against him, of the fragrance of her hair and her sweet womanly scent underneath the smell of earth and sun. He was tempted to bury his face in her hair --
Blood rushed to his groin as the horse’s movement caused Giselda’s bottom to slide and settle squarely against his cock, rubbing against it in small movements with each clip-clop. He didn’t know how long he could control himself before he threw her to the ground and plunged into her until she begged for mercy.
“Rodin?”
“Yes?” He caught his thumb caressing her and forced himself to stop.
“Who’s Talina?”
“Talina?” Yes, he would talk about her. Maybe the pain would drive out this forbidden lust. “She -- she was my first love,” he said jerkily. He was aware of her going stiff, but he was too focused on the rush of pain and guilt that went through him.
“You loved her?”
“Loved her? Yes. Oh, gods, yes. We were young, only seventeen, and the whole world was before us.” His hand tightened against her.
“What happened?”
“We --” He drew a shuddering breath. “We went mountain climbing. A storm came upon us, took us unawares. She slipped, fell down the mountain. I tried to save her, but the rain was too hard, made everything slippery. Finally, she couldn’t hold on any longer ... and let go.” He stared ahead, but he was seeing a different picture.
Giselda rubbed his arm soothingly. “I’m sorry for your loss, Rodin.”
He had thought the pain would be overwhelming, and it was, but it was slowly receding, replaced by a calmness and an odd sense of peace. Talking about it had been a catharsis.
“Is that why storms make you uneasy?”
“Yes. Partly because of fear it would happen again, and partly because of the memories.”
“You should remember only the good, Rodin.” Her voice was soft and hypnotic, lulling him into a sense of complacency. “Remember the good times you had with Talina. Remember her with -- with love and fondness. I think she would want that.”
“Yes.” Giselda had a point. “Yes, I will. Maybe ...” He hesitated, the words feeling foreign to his lips. “Maybe I’ll tell you about her someday.”
“I -- I would love to hear that. But for now, let me comfort you, Rodin.”
“You already did. Talking with you about this has been --”
“I mean, like last night.”
He reared back in alarm, jarred out of his hypnotic state. “No!” He snatched his hand away from her midriff as if stung.
“Hear me out before you say anything!” she snapped, slapping a hand against his thigh. She turned a little toward him. “That first night with the wolf, I could have died. Yes, I could have,” she repeated firmly in answer to his wordless protest. “And I was thinking what a waste my life would have been if I had not experienced the pleasure that I did last night --” He stared, fascinated at the color that bloomed up her neck to her cheek. “-- that I would surely go to my grave with regrets if I didn
’t experience it again. Life here in the wilds is so uncertain, Rodin; that much I’ve come to understand. It’s so different from my sheltered world in the castle. And actually, I still haven’t experienced just how raw and wild nature can be, because you’re with me. If it hadn’t been for you, I know my bones would have littered the forest floor that night. So please don’t blame me if I want to grab whatever I can of life, whatever life can offer me right now. And you’re here, with me, right now.”
Heat flooded him. He didn’t even have to ask; he was being gifted with the chance to taste heaven endless times with her. She was offering to be his lover for as long as this journey took them, until ... she could go back to Michael. That thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“And I truly want to comfort you, Rodin,” she continued, rubbing her hand in a soothing motion over his thigh and sending sparks of fire streaking through to his groin. “I think I can really help you. Just think how much you were comforted last night.”
No, he would not respond to her teasing. “Stop that!” His hand clamped down on hers, trapping her hand on top of his thigh. “And stop that nonsense. We’re on a mission to rescue your prince, and that’s that. Nothing more.”
She leaned back against him, reached up, and kissed his chin. He flinched.
“I want you, Rodin.”
His eyes met hers involuntarily. Her limpid brown eyes were dark with need, and her face was filled with a sensuousness that made his gut clench.
“Comforting you was an excuse. The truth is, I want you,” she said in the same quiet voice, her dark eyes earnest. “Madly, completely, passionately, with everything in me. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that. Now that you know the truth, aren’t you going to return the favor?” Her lips trembled.
He groaned, his heart torn. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I betrayed my king last night; I can’t do it again.” He heaved out a deep shuddering sigh. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
“How could servicing the princess be a betrayal of your king? Why, the king should be grateful that you’re pleasing his daughter.” She smiled, her eyes so beguiling that he was tempted to lean down and kiss the smile from her lips.