by Diana Bold
After a quarter of an hour of tense silence, the conversation between the two brothers began again, drifting to carefully neutral topics. She relaxed a bit, hoping Lord Simon had asked all the questions about her he intended to. She sensed he, too, had been rattled by Sebastian’s reaction, perhaps even felt guilty. In any event, the mysterious Meredith seemed to have distracted him from his suspicions about Rhoswen and Trevelan.
She let her attention wander, frowning as she remembered the way Sebastian had walked away from her while she bathed. She would have been insulted, if not for the fact that he’d been obviously aroused.
His sense of honor and tremendous willpower both touched and annoyed her. She wished she’d been able to tempt him beyond all reason, but perversely she was even more attracted to him because she hadn’t.
Unfortunately, she feared his reticence had more to do with the captivity he’d spoken of than her desirability, or lack thereof. When he’d spoken of what he’d had to do to survive, his shame and heartache had been painful to see. Whatever he’d suffered, it only made her more determined to break through his defenses and show him she didn’t care.
“Who is this shameless harlot your brother has brought to your table, my lord?” The strident voice broke through her thoughts, and she glanced up to see a man standing to Lord Simon’s left. A priest, given his manner of dress. He shook a bony finger in her direction. “’Tis rumored the wizard has been fornicating with her in his cursed tower.”
Sebastian put his arm around her shoulders, as though to shield her from the priest’s words. He turned a fulminating glare on her attacker, and she sensed him gathering himself for battle.
Before Sebastian could speak, Lord Simon put a hand on his brother’s forearm and shook his head. “She is my guest,” he told the priest, in a tone that brooked no argument. “I will thank you to hold your tongue.”
The priest subsided, but she sensed his glare for the rest of the meal and feared she had just made a powerful enemy.
Chapter Ten
By the time Sebastian and Rhoswen returned to the tower, his nerves were frayed to the breaking point. All during dinner, the mood in the Great Hall had swirled around them, ugly and speculative. He feared Simon had put Rhoswen at great risk by insisting she attend and wondered if that had been his brother’s plan all along.
Tonight Father Alric would spread his poisonous lies, and by tomorrow half the castle would believe Rhoswen a witch or worse. The old bastard had long waited for someone to persecute, having been denied the pleasure of going after Sebastian.
No matter what game Simon played, the stakes had just been markedly raised. ‘Twas more imperative than ever that Sebastian get Rhoswen and Trevelan safely away from Hawkesmere.
As he kindled the fire, Rhoswen paced the room, her expression distant and troubled. She had obviously sensed the danger as well.
At last she paused and met his gaze. “Your brother wants you to think he’s doing as you’ve asked, but at the same time he’s dangling me in front of those superstitious fools like bait, knowing they’ll bite.”
He pushed to his feet, unable to argue. “Miranda says Trevelan needs at least a week to recover.”
“He’d rather suffer the pain of his injuries than never have the chance to leave at all.”
He shoved his hands through his hair, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to ease his aching head. “He needs at least one more day to regain as much of his strength as possible. I will help you leave tomorrow after nightfall.”
She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Oh, Sebastian. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Do not thank me yet.” He pulled her even closer, pressing his lips against the fragrant cloud of her hair. “Do not thank me until the pair of you are safely gone from this place.”
They clung together, while Sebastian inwardly railed against fate, against his brother, against everything that had conspired to throw this beautiful girl in his path now, when it was too late. He wished he could bar the tower door and keep her here with him forever. More than anything, he wished he had taken her up on her previous offer.
“Who is Meredith?” Her soft words shattered the tenuous peace he had found in her arms. He pulled away, shoving a hand through his hair in agitation. Even after more than a decade, the thought of Meredith still hurt. He could not believe Simon had brought her up, since he had cared for her, too.
“I’m sorry.” Rhoswen reached out to him, but hesitated when he gave her a warning look. He did not want to be touched right now. Could not bear it. She frowned and let her hand fall back to her side. “I have no right to ask. It’s obvious that you loved her…”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I loved her. But it is not what you think. She was my step-mother.”
Meredith had been his father’s third wife. As a lad of sixteen, Sebastian had been sent south to retrieve his fifteen year old future step-mother and her retinue of retainers. When they had been attacked on the road, Sebastian had pulled Meredith off into the woods, and they had somehow escaped the slaughter. During the next danger-filled, chaperone-free week, he had fallen head over heels for the girl, all the while knowing he would have to turn her over to his drunken, abusive father.
He had considered running away with her, but that would have been suicide for them both. His father would have hunted them to the ends of the earth.
“Your step-mother?” Rhoswen prompted.
“She was…special to me,” he admitted.
“Did you have an affair with her?” Rhoswen’s voice held no trace of judgment, and he forced himself to meet her concerned gaze.
“I never so much as kissed her hand, but I loved her with all the innocent purity of youth.” He shook his head, allowing the painful memories to wash over him. “My father’s cruelty knew no bounds. During their brief marriage he beat her half a dozen times. I felt so helpless… All I could do was try to comfort her and wipe the blood from her face.” He swallowed hard. “She died giving birth to his child.”
He had left for war the next day, so lost in grief he had not cared whether he lived or died.
And he suddenly realized that Meredith had a lot to do with why he had risked his brother’s wrath to rescue Rhoswen. Perhaps he was trying to undo the wrongs of the past. Meredith had also been lovely and fair…
“Oh, Sebastian.” She crossed the distance between them and flung herself into his arms once again. “I’m sure she loved you, too. Your kindness and friendship probably made her last months bearable.”
He wanted to think so, but he feared he had only made things worse, made Meredith want something she could never have. If she had felt one tenth of the fevered longing he had, her last days had been anything but happy.
“Share the bed with me tonight.” Rhoswen effectively drove all thoughts of Meredith from his mind. “We don’t have to make love, but I want to fall asleep in your arms, Sebastian. Just once.”
How could he say no to such a request? He might very well die of sexual frustration before morning, but could not resist this chance to be close to her, if only for one night. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”
She pulled away and gave him a hesitant smile. “Can you help me unfasten my gown?”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Of course. Turn around.” His nimble fingers turned awkward and clumsy as he attempted to maneuver the tiny buttons. He wondered how she had managed it by herself earlier. With every inch of pale skin he uncovered, his ineptitude grew.
“There,” he murmured at last. “Done.”
Holding her gaping bodice to her chest, she backed toward the other side of the room. “If you’ll turn your back for a moment, I’ll change into my nightclothes.”
He tore his gaze away from the lush temptation she posed and turned away, striding to the trunk so he could remove his own tunic. Normally, he would have taken off the rest of his clothes as well, but holding Rhoswen would be hard e
nough. He needed as many layers of clothing between them as possible.
When he finished putting the tunic away, he turned and found Rhoswen already snug in bed, the furs drawn up to her chin. Beautiful. Her pale hair spread across his pillows in tangled disarray, and her blue eyes were wide with excitement and perhaps a touch of trepidation.
Crossing the room, he pulled the bed hangings closed, then ducked beneath the heavy velvet cocoon and slid beneath the covers, as far away from Rhoswen as humanly possible. She gave a small huff of laughter, then inexorably scooted closer. He tried to prepare himself, but he still flinched when she wrapped herself around him and pillowed her face against his chest.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, to pull her closer and enjoy the warm press of her soft curves and the enticing floral scent of her hair. He wanted this, he reminded himself. This had nothing to do with the past. Nor even the future. For this one night, Rhoswen was his to hold. If he could not allow himself to enjoy this gift, then Sa’id had won, and what was the point of anything?
Obviously sensing how hard this was for him, she remained absolutely still, letting him have the time he needed to grow accustomed to having her in his arms. Then, after an interminable time, she pressed her lips against the column of his throat and slid one cool hand between the halves of his linen shirt, gently caressing his chest.
“I know you don’t like to be touched,” she whispered. “If I do anything you don’t like, just say so and I’ll stop. I promise.”
“You could never do anything I did not like,” he murmured, his heartbeat accelerating beneath her touch. “It is not you, Rhoswen. This problem I have has never been about you.”
“You could tell me what it is about,” she suggested. “If I knew the problem, perhaps I could better help you work things out.” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his earlobe. “We only have a few hours left, and I’d like to put them to good use.”
Her words made him shudder with longing. Even more blood rushed to his groin, making him so hard it hurt. He wanted what she offered, but he did not think he was willing to pay the price. Far easier to control his wayward cock than live the rest of his worthless life knowing Rhoswen knew what had been done to him.
“We only have a few hours,” he repeated. “And so I will not tell you my dirty secrets, Rhoswen. I will not fill your head with those dark memories. I would far rather you remembered me kindly.”
“I think I know how to help you.” She moved away, and when he turned to look at her, she had fastened her own wrist to the bed with one of the scarves he had used to bind her before. “You don’t like to be restrained. You need to be in control so those memories don’t come back to haunt you.” She handed him the other scarf and proffered her wrist. “So tie me, Sebastian. I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.”
Rhoswen held out her hand, trembling with emotion. In her gaze he saw that she was fully aware of the risk she took, yet trusted him implicitly.
He knelt on the bed beside her, his hands braced on his thighs, his chest heaving as though he had run a great distance, his gaze fastened fixedly on the furs. “I cannot do that to you,” he said at last, though he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. “Rhoswen, it killed me to tie you to this bed when I had to leave the tower, and now you ask me to tie you down and have my way with you? I could never forgive myself.”
“There would be nothing to forgive yourself for,” she assured him. “This would have nothing to do with coercion, only pleasure.” With her free hand, she slowly unbuttoned the two halves of her pale pink nightshirt, letting it gape open to show the deep shadow of her cleavage.
His gaze shifted to what she had revealed, and once again she held out the length of silk. “Please, Sebastian. I want this.”
He glanced at the silk, then back to the soft curves of her breasts. He prayed she did not truly understand why he hated to feel trapped, but her idea made such sense—would make it possible for him to relax and enjoy making love to her—he feared she did.
Banishing the horrible thought of what she might have seen when she was in his mind, he allowed his resistance to crumble. She was everything he had ever wanted, and he did not have the strength to fight it any more.
“I will be gentle,” he whispered. “I would never do anything to hurt you.” He took her hand and fastened the silk scarf around her wrist with reverent tenderness.
“I know.” She leaned back against the pillows, letting the silk restraints pull her arms above her head, so that her breasts were shamelessly displayed, the fabric barely covering her nipples.
Stretching out beside her, he explored her face with his fingertips, wanting to imprint her features to memory for all time. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning closer and brushing his lips against all the places he had just touched…her forehead…her cheeks…the tip of her nose… her lips…
A soft smile flickered across her face, and then she lifted her head and pressed her sweet mouth to his. At first their kisses were chaste — soft and sweet. But then she parted her lips and allowed him in. He gasped, drowning in the taste of her, in her heat, her hunger.
He had never kissed anyone like this, never felt such a connection. Her lovely breasts crushed against his chest, and her long, slender legs tangled with his. A shiver raced up and down his spine, and his hands trembled as he brought them up to cup the incredible softness of her breasts. How often he had dreamed of touching her this way, but the reality was better than he had imagined.
So silky and smooth. Unable to resist, he bent his head and took one hardened nipple in his mouth, suckling her with gentle ferocity. She moaned and strained against her bonds, as though she wished to touch him, too.
Moving between her soft thighs, he removed her trousers and tossed them aside, stopping for a moment to stare. He brushed her mound with his fingertips, stunned by her damp heat. Her obvious arousal could not be faked, and the last of his lingering doubts fled.
By some miracle, this beautiful creature wanted him, and for the first time he was thankful for the things he had learned in the desert, for he planned to pleasure her in every possible way.
Parting her tender folds, he entered her tight sheathe with one fingertip, groaning aloud at her exquisite wet heat. Jesu Christ, he could not wait to get inside her.
Her sweet scent blossomed in the air around them, and his mouth watered with the need to taste her. Kissing his way down the smooth plain of her lovely flat stomach, he continued to thrust first one, then two fingers deep within her.
When he reached the apex of her thighs, he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses over her core, centering on the hard little bud that rose so sweetly for his tongue. She writhed beneath him, his name a soft, repetitive sob as she strove for the release he wanted so badly to give her.
“Oh, Sebastian.” She came suddenly, convulsing around his fingertips as she shuddered beneath him, so beautiful and honest in her passionate response.
Panting, he pushed up on his elbows and settled himself between her thighs, rubbing the head of his cock against her soft, damp heat.
“I want you,” he whispered. “I want you so much.”
“Then take me,” she breathed, opening her eyes to meet his gaze with tender welcome. “I’m yours, Sebastian. Only yours.”
He eased forward, and sweat beaded on his forehead as he sank into her tight sheathe. She felt so good. Almost too good. He was afraid to move, afraid to do anything lest he lose his mind and rut like an animal.
“Mmm.” She wrapped her legs around his waist, seating him even deeper within her. “It’s all right,” she told him huskily. “You won’t hurt me.”
With a low moan, he slid slowly out, then home again.
“Faster,” she whispered. “Harder.”
Unable to resist her sweet coaxing, he let himself go, thrusting mindlessly, pleasure streaking through him like wildfire. He had never felt anything like this. In Turkey, he had known passion, even pleasure, but it had always been
dulled by opium and tempered by guilt and shame.
Rhoswen met him thrust for thrust, her soft voice urging him on until he exploded, his release rippling through him, wave after wave of ecstasy.
She cried out and tensed around him, milking him dry. He collapsed on top of her, relieved to know she had also found release, but too emotionally and physically spent to move.
After a long, long time, Rhoswen stirred and pressed her lips to his bare shoulder. “You’re crushing me. Can you move a bit?”
Abashed, he rolled off her, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe as he undid the scarves around her wrist. God, she was so beautiful, all flushed and rosy from his lovemaking. “Did I hurt you?”
“You didn’t hurt me.” She gazed deep into his eyes. “You gave me more pleasure than I ever thought possible.”
“Truly?” He smiled and pressed his mouth to hers in a tender kiss. She had been absolutely right. When he had made love to her he had never felt trapped.
“Oh, Sebastian. It was wonderful. The most wonderful experience of my life.”
He laughed and hugged her. She had calmed the raging beast inside his soul, and he wondered how he could ever let her go, now that he had found her.
No one else had ever understood him as she did. He had opened his heart to her and relished every moment of their conversations. The thought of returning to the darkness of his previous solitary existence shattered him.
As though she had once again read his mind, she returned his embrace. “Don’t think about the future. Let’s pretend tonight will last forever.”
He nodded and rubbed his cheek in the tender crook of her shoulder, determined to heed her words, feeling sated and happy for the first time in longer than he could remember.
“It has been six years since I have been touched by anyone but you,” he told her softly. “Not so much as a brush of someone’s hand against my own. I needed this more than you could ever know.”