Stolen Brides: Four Beauty-and-the-Beast Medieval Romances

by Claire Delacroix

She succeeded, but only just. She saw understanding in his eyes, recollection and fear, a reaction with which Aileen could sympathize.

  Adaira parted her lips to explain, but there was no time. Aileen saw the arrow coming, and Adaira did not duck its impact. She bared her teeth as it tore into her breast, the pain far exceeding any expectation. Death caught Adaira in his cold clutches and Aileen saw the anguish in the Hawk’s eyes before she slipped from Adaira’s skin.

  Aileen watched from outside that shell of flesh as Adaira died and Aileen’s vision glazed with tears at the grief between the two. She lingered, watching the Hawk’s anguish, his tenderness, his confusion.

  Even as she wept for the death of a woman she had not known in this life, for a love fated to go awry, Aileen spread her hands against the walls of the hut, greedy for more. She knew that this was a gift she had left to herself.

  To remember was the key, she saw that already.

  No wonder she had been drawn to this spot—she had planted the seed in her own thoughts, perhaps turned the very forest to her own will. As Adaira, Aileen knew she had understood many arcane secrets she would never know again.

  Aileen peered past that painful parting to a thousand moments in the past. She trembled at the extent of the labyrinth she had entered and yet knew that she alone could find the thread of sense within it. Aileen had been chosen…no, she had chosen to come.

  She and the Hawk had been fated to be lovers.

  This fantastical tale was blessedly simple, so clear that a babe could understand it. Aileen understood that the Hawk had wed her because he could wed no other. He had sought her out, though he might well deny it, he had searched for the woman who carried Adaira’s spark within her. That was how he had known from a mere glimpse, from a kiss, that Aileen was the wife he must possess.

  And his kiss, perhaps by some old contract they two had made, had awakened her own memories of what stood between them. Her challenge was not to evade him, but to win his heart for her own.

  The Hawk was her destiny and she was his.

  When her hands fell away from the wall, Aileen was trembling and dizzy with all she had seen. There were yet a thousand questions unanswered, though she doubted she had the strength to draw more from this hut without repose. She felt she had run a hundred miles, and indeed, she had walked far this day.

  A sense of urgency plagued her. Aileen had so much to discover, a certainty that there was precious little time to do it, and the Hawk did not believe. Her first course would have to be to persuade him of the truth, for surely they could accomplish more together than apart.

  Aileen opened her eyes, fearful yet filled with purpose, and found the snow falling thickly around herself. The sky was dark, the forest around her swathed in a thick layer of fresh white snow. She swallowed and stepped shakily away from the hut, then gasped to find the Hawk not a dozen steps away.

  He stood on the periphery of the clearing, his gaze fixed upon her, the reins of his black steed trailing in the snow. Her heart soared, for she half-imagined that she had summoned him to her side by will alone.

  Then Aileen saw that the Hawk was displeased. Of course, he was unaware of revelation she now clutched to her heart, and she had fled from him. He stood straight and tall, his expression inscrutable. His eyes were narrowed and his posture was stiff.

  Beneath his steady regard, the conviction wrought by Aileen’s vision, the certainty that they were destined to be together, faltered.

  “Are you a sorceress?” he asked, his words carrying to her on the white cloud of his breath.

  Aileen, her knees weak, shook her head, not understanding his meaning.

  He indicated the hut behind her and she turned, her eyes widening in shock. The branches that made the walls and roof of the hut had burst into new leaf since her arrival. Their winter-deadened branches were now dressed in the brilliant green leaves of spring, even as the snow fell thickly around the hut.

  She took an unsteady step back. “I did not do this!”

  “I fear you did.”

  Aileen knew the law sufficiently to realize that he had the right to condemn her for sorcery. She knew the fate of witches and the prospect of being burned struck fear to her very marrow. She could almost hear the crackling of skin touched by flame.

  She took a deep breath then faced her spouse anew, confessing what she knew in haste. “I did not do this willingly, for I have never had magical powers of any kind. I must confess, though, that since we met, some such power seems to have awakened within me. I cannot command it, but I do not believe it means ill to either you or me.”

  She swallowed, disliking that she could not guess his reaction from his expression. “I know no more than this, I swear it to you.” Aileen held the Hawk’s gaze, needing his guarantee and hating that her voice faltered. “Do you mean to have me burned, my lord?”

  The pause between them was charged, the brightness of his gaze fairly stealing the breath from Aileen’s chest.

  Then the Hawk strode toward her and took her hand within his. “No,” he said, conviction resonating in that single word. Aileen’s heart jumped when he kissed her cold palm, his caress sending heat over her flesh. He met her gaze and his voice turned husky. “I am too relieved to find you hale, lady mine, to dispatch you hastily from my side.”

  Aileen’s heart thumped and her knees weakened in her relief. Was it possible that he became more impassive when his emotions threatened to shake his composure? “You feared for me,” she guessed.

  “I protect all of those beneath my hand,” the Hawk said and a ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Even those who would evade that protection.”

  Aileen parted her lips to apologize, but a wolf howled in the distance, interrupting her. She eased closer to her spouse without a second thought and his arm slipped around her waist. The stallion stamped, impatient to be safely within Inverfyre’s walls again.

  “There are many predators in Inverfyre’s woods,” he murmured against her hair, “and I would not see you fall prey to any of them.”

  His very manner encouraged Aileen. Surely, if she touched him, she might awaken the memories within him, as Adaira had done? Was this not the wager they had wrought?

  There was but one way to know. Aileen tipped her head back to meet his steady gaze. She tentatively reached out to touch the Hawk’s jaw with her fingertips, letting her fingers trail over the stubble of a day’s growth of whiskers, and he did not move away. She licked her lips, noting how he hungrily watched her gesture.

  Still, he neither pounced upon her nor stepped away.

  “Do you include yourself in the company of predators?” she whispered.

  He smiled then, not a fleeting smile but one that clung to his lips. “There are those who have suggested as much.”

  Her heart thundering, Aileen stretched to her toes and brushed her lips across his cheek. “I am persuaded otherwise, husband mine,” was all she had time to whisper before his mouth closed demandingly over hers.

  The Hawk wanted more, far more, than he had had thus far of his lady wife, and her willing kiss dismissed his caution. Relief added urgency to his embrace. He kissed her with a vengeance, unable to halt when she softened to him.

  He had feared to lose her in this woods, either to her flight or to ravenous wolves or the wicked MacLaren clan, and could admit only the depth of his terror now that she was safely in his embrace. The lady welcomed his touch with an enthusiasm that reassured him fully. His blood quickened when she parted her lips to his kiss and desire fairly roared when she arched against him.

  Never yet had she greeted him with such ardor and, though he could not guess the root of this response, neither did he care. He was content to partake of the feast she offered.

  He wanted to partake of it now.

  But no, he would give her what she had asked of him. First, he would court her. Indeed, she might have fled because she was fearful of their first coupling. Who could guess what she had been told of the deed? A courtship alon
e would win her heart for his own. Though he yearned to hasten, he let her set the pace.

  After a languid and promising kiss, Aileen pulled her lips from his. The Hawk let her do so, though he did not release her from his embrace. She was flushed, her breathing quick, her eyes sparkling and her lips reddened. He thought her more beguiling than any woman he had ever seen.

  She glanced down and must have seen the evidence of his erection for she blushed crimson. He flicked a telling glance at the hut and her color deepened with understanding.

  “Surely, a crude hut in the forest does not suit your ardor?” she said, so charmingly breathless that he yearned to kiss her again.

  “Surely it matters less where one seeks pleasure than with whom.” He traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertip, loving how her eyes darkened.

  The lady smiled, the fairest encouragement he could have had. He forgot the wolves and the falling shadows of night, he forgot the restlessness of his steed. There was naught but his lady wife and her sweet kisses.

  The Hawk caught Aileen in his embrace again, swinging her into his arms as he kissed her. He carried her into the old hut, intent upon tasting more of the pleasure suddenly roused between them. It was warm here, warmer than it should have been, though perhaps it was the lady’s passion alone that heated his blood.

  He knew precisely what he would do.

  Aileen caught her breath when the Hawk broke his kiss and she realized she lay upon her back, her spouse braced on his elbow above her. She made to sit up, but the weight of his hand upon her waist halted her.

  “Perhaps we should take advantage of the first time in days we have been alone together,” he suggested.

  “I know not what to do,” she whispered.

  “Do whatsoever you desire to do,” he counseled.

  Aileen swallowed, but he held her gaze, willing her to trust him. This would all be new to her, and he wanted her to find pleasure. He slowly slid his hand over her ribs, savoring the curve of every bone. She parted her lips, perhaps to speak, but his fingers cupped her breast and she fell silent with a small gasp.

  Powerless to resist her, the Hawk kissed his bride anew. Even through the tabard, kirtle, and chemise, he could feel her response, could feel her nipple bead beneath his caress. He coaxed her participation, tasting and teasing. Heat raged within him, commanding him to conquer and claim her for all time, but he fought its urgency. He let her set the pace, let the kiss be long and languid.

  Finally, he lifted his head and regarded her. She smiled shyly at him, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Tell me something of yourself,” she urged in a whisper. “Tell me something I have not heard from others.”

  The Hawk chuckled. So snared was he in his wife’s allure that he confessed something he had never intended to confess. “There is a kernel of truth in your challenge of last evening. I know more of these visions than I implied.”

  The lady’s eyes lit with a pleasure that made his heart sing.

  “When first I came to Inverfyre,” he continued quietly, “I met an old crone, a woman name of Adaira who lived in these woods.”

  “Adaira,” Aileen whispered, then nodded approval.

  The Hawk refused to give much weight to her acceptance of this name, for she could not have known it. He slid his hand beneath her nape, cradling her against his heat as his other hand slid beneath her skirts. He eased beneath the hem of her chemise, felt the warmth of her knee beneath his hand. The softness of her bare flesh nigh made him forget what he had intended to tell her.

  “You knew her?”

  “I but met her the once. It was said that she lived in this hut. She, too, spoke of visions,” he said, leaving his own memories of the tale aside. “So, you are not the first to have such notions at Inverfyre.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died,” he said simply, thinking the details unworthy of her attention.

  “I envisioned that I was her and she was me,” Aileen whispered, apparently more excited by his words than his caress. “Just as you and Magnus are one and the same.”

  The Hawk frowned, not having intended to divert her attention so fully from their lovemaking. He felt the passion cool between them and fought to recapture what had promised to be a pleasurable interval afore it was fully lost.

  “I think such thoughts do not deserve our consideration, particularly in this moment.” The Hawk stroked the soft curve of her breast and though she shivered, his lady still was too concerned with whimsy for his preference.

  “I disagree.” Aileen placed her hands upon his shoulders, compelling him to look into her eyes. Their fathomless blue reminded him of the maiden who had haunted him, the maiden who had been awakened by Adaira’s kiss, and the Hawk felt a certain uneasiness. “There is an old curse at work at Inverfyre, one that governs much…”

  He interrupted her sharply. “No, there is not.”

  “Yes, there is,” she insisted. She tapped his chest with a fingertip. “And it commands the fates of both you and I. It serves nothing to deny this truth…”

  “No such folly commands me.”

  Aileen studied him, then her lips set stubbornly. “Heed what I am telling you, for it is of import—there is a spell cast upon us…”

  The Hawk slid his thumb across Aileen’s nipple, his patience with this tale exhausted. Her words faltered and fell silent, her eyes widened, but she did not pull away. He moved his hand down over her stomach, feeling the skin become softer and softer, knowing the target he sought.

  The lady did not seem to. His fingers slipped between her thighs and she gasped, even as she arched her back toward him.

  “Let us see what the spell makes of this,” he murmured before he claimed her lips anew.

  The Hawk found it bewitching that Aileen responded so keenly to his kisses. Passion was all new to her, that much was evident, and he was not surprised that a laird’s sole daughter should have been kept chaste.

  He was surprised at the protectiveness her innocence roused in him, no less by his own urge to coax her passion to a flame, to savor it himself. He kissed her because he could not have denied himself the sweet softness of her lips, the tiny gasps she uttered when his touch surprised her, the astonishment and pleasure in her wide blue gaze.

  He was shocked when she welcomed him so readily, astonished when her hands closed over his shoulders. He was enflamed when she parted her lips beneath his, shocked and delighted when her tongue tentatively touched his, astounded when she shyly parted her thighs to his questing fingers. There was naught but Aileen for the Hawk, naught but the fire they roused between them.

  Though he had intended solely to awaken her, her passionate response meant that he could no longer cease his caress. Her own ardor dismissed his chivalry. He touched her more boldly when she knotted her fingers into his hair and urged him onward.

  Her kiss grew more demanding, her hips began to move, at first slowly then with greater vigor. He knew only the taste of her kiss, the smell of her arousal. He wanted to sample every morsel of her flesh. She was wet and restless with her desire, she moaned into his kiss, she writhed beneath him with an urgency that bode well indeed for the marital bed.

  When Aileen reached the summit of her pleasure beneath his hand, the Hawk felt nigh as triumphant as she looked. She shuddered from head to toe and flushed scarlet as she gasped, her fist knotted with painful vigor in his hair. He did not care. Her eyes opened wide, their hue a violent sapphire and he found himself grinning at her amazement.

  His courtship proceeded well, to his thinking.

  Then the lady spoke.

  “Your old falconer, the one who was training peregrines this morn,” Aileen whispered, licking her lips in dismay.

  The Hawk’s victorious mood was shattered so surely that it might never have been. He pulled away slightly. This was not the moment, in his opinion, for his lady to speak of those men pledged to serve him. “You must mean Tarsuinn.”

  “Tarsuinn,” she murmured, as i
f she tried the name upon her tongue. She closed her eyes and murmured it again, her manner most strange.

  The Hawk felt a strange prickling, the sense of someone walking on his grave. He would not have this moment soiled! He bent to kiss his bride again but she averted her face, a frown puckering her brow.

  “Tarsuinn. He has a wound upon his shoulder, a scar from an old wound that was stitched closed.” She touched her own right shoulder and met the Hawk’s gaze.

  “How could you know such a thing?” he demanded, fearing suddenly that some hook had been baited with this tempting maiden. Already there was one spy in his dungeon, a spy captured at a cursedly important time. The Hawk got to his feet, his manner turning cold. “Did your father have spies within my hall?”

  “No!”

  “Then how can you know of a mark on the flesh of my falconer? You have never been to Inverfyre and you cannot know Tarsuinn, who left it before you were born.”

  “I saw it…”

  “No.” The Hawk dismissed this explanation as unworthy of consideration. He paced the small hut, thinking furiously, even as his innards turned cold.

  “Nissa,” he concluded with certainty. “She gives much credence to these old tales. Indeed, she gathers them. Did she tell of this?”

  “No, no, she did not.” Aileen shook her head with vigor. “I saw it in my vision.” She met his gaze steadily. “I swear it to you that this is so.”

  To his own dismay, the Hawk was tempted to believe his wife.

  Perhaps he simply fell prey to his wife’s charms too readily.

  “Then, how? Explain yourself, and know that I do not take kindly to deception.”

  “I do not deceive you!” Aileen was outraged or feigned it well. She bounded to her feet in turn and shook a finger at him. As irked as he was with her insistence upon this foolery, the Hawk had to admire that the lady was unafraid to challenge him. “It was your kiss that first poured this poison into my thoughts!”

  “So you say.”

  “So, I know. We must decipher the meaning of these visions and solve the riddle to put it to rest.”