A Passionate Magic (13 page)

As his explorations grew more intimate, Emma
became more eager. Her surprised gasps turned to soft whispers of
encouragement, and when he finally touched the entrance to the most
private area of her body he found her warm and moist, ready for
him.

“Dain,” she moaned, pressing herself against
his searching fingers, “I need something, but I don’t know what it
is.”

“I do know,” he whispered. “I will be as
gentle as I can.”

She did not resist when he spread her thighs
wider and let his hardness come against her. Bracing himself above
her on rigid arms, he pushed deeper.

“Oh, yes,” she sighed. “That’s the place,
that’s what I wanted, only I didn’t know it until now.”

“It’s what I want, too,” he said, and moved
deeper still.

He held no doubt at all about her virgin
state, and he fully expected her to protest that he was causing her
pain. He was prepared to deal with tears. Yet Emma accepted his
entrance with every indication of joy. Dain moved slowly into her,
and Emma’s body stretched around him, opening to him as smoothly
and easily as his own chamber door had opened. He felt a small
obstruction give way and then he was entirely within her, and her
sheath closed tightly about him. Dain stayed perfectly still, not
daring to breathe, feeling as though he was suspended somewhere
between Earth and Heaven.

”0h, Dain!” Her voice was soft, yet he could
hear the wonder in it.

He looked down at her, at the sweet sacrifice
to an old feud, and all thoughts of vengeance and warfare vanished.
For Dain in that moment, there was only the incredible beauty of
his body joined to Emma’s, and his only wish was to give her
pleasure.

He reached down to touch her where he knew
she would be most sensitive, and when he felt her begin to shatter
around him, he finally let his body move freely as desire urged
him. Emma’s cries of delight were music that softened his hardened
heart, even as they strengthened his long, eager thrusts.

One portion of his exalted mind warned that
he must be hurting her with his furiously passionate assault;
another part noted that Emma was lifting herself to meet his every
thrust, that her hands were clutching at his buttocks, her nails
digging into him, urging him onward.

Then a piercing, hot sweetness shot through
him, and Dain stopped thinking. He hung for an instant at the brink
of an astonishing revelation, with Emma’s body throbbing beneath
him, and then he tumbled over the edge of ecstasy and soared there
for a breathless eternity, aware of nothing but an incredible
happiness and a sense of gratitude toward the woman who had
bestowed such a miracle upon him.

He wakened toward dawn to find Emma cuddled
in his arms. He vaguely remembered pulling her close again after
their long and intense lovemaking was finished, when both of them
were beyond words. Dain could not recall ever before being so moved
by a woman. He had been touched by the open and honest way in which
Emma had given herself to him. And he knew the memory of the
instant of complete happiness that he had found in her would remain
with him for the rest of his life. When he was old and feeble he
would remember that perfect moment, and for a little while he would
be restored to youth and strength once more.

But the fire in his body was gone now. The
early morning breeze blowing through the open windows was cool, and
a sudden chill attacked Dain’s mind and wrapped itself around his
heart. He thought about the events of the previous day, of the
unusual summer heat and his hard work beside his men-at-arms and
the villagers. He heard again old Agatha’s voice offering him cool,
spiced wine; he saw her gnarled hand holding the jug and refilling
his cup several times. Agatha had brought him more wine later in
the day, and it was so refreshing, so cooling to his parched
throat, that he had drunk far more than he ordinarily imbibed.

And then, unable to withstand the clamorous
demands of his own body, he had ridden through the night to
Penruan, to bed his maiden wife, to consummate the marriage he did
not want made fully legal. Consumed by lust, he had spilled his
seed into the daughter of his worst enemy.

Dark suspicion took root and blossomed, all
in a moment’s time. The fruit of his suspicion was so bitter that
Dain nearly choked on it.

Emma stirred in his arms, murmuring softly,
and her hand flexed against his chest. She was a warm and fragrant
weight against him, her soft body more alluring than any siren’s.
Dain felt his own body begin to rise into eager life in response to
Emma’s touch, and he cursed the longing that could so easily have
led him to waken her with a kiss. It was a powerful urge that made
him want to caress her into what he was sure would be ready
compliance, so he could join himself to her again and find once
more the brief, ecstatic happiness that had earlier transported
him. He shuddered at the wave of desire that swept over him.

As quickly as he could without waking her, he
slid Emma out of his embrace and left the bed. He drew the green
quilt up around her shoulders to keep out the cool breeze that
might waken her. Then, still unclothed, he went to stand at the
window while he sorted out his thoughts.

The windows in the lord’s chamber faced west—
deliberately so, to prevent attackers on the landward side of the
castle from shooting flaming arrows into the room. The arrangement
meant Dain could not see the sunrise. But he could see the sky
turning a soft shade of pink, and he could see the mist rising off
the calm, blue sea. Far below him the waves crashed upon the rocks
at the foot of the tower keep. He usually found their constant
thunder a restful sound. Not so today. Dain’s speculations were
deeply troubling.

Being an honest man at heart, he began by
admitting to himself that it was possible that the desire that had
overpowered him and led to his mad ride to Penruan was the result
of his own longing, what Emma had called his own will.

It was also possible that Agatha had mixed
into the wine she gave him herbs intended to inflame his natural
male readiness into uncontrollable lust. He had heard stories about
such herbs, and if they actually existed, Agatha surely knew of
them.

These musings left him with three questions.
If Agatha’s herbs were responsible for his midnight madness, why
had she fed them to him? Having known Agatha for most of his life,
Dain found it difficult to believe she would do harm to him. Agatha
was one of the few people he trusted.

Did Emma know what Agatha had done? And if
so, was Emma the instigator of the deed? It was easy enough to
believe that Emma had wanted Dain to consummate their marriage in
order to gain a tighter hold over him and perhaps to conceive a
child by him.

When he reached this point in his thoughts,
Dain turned from his unseeing contemplation of sky and ocean to
stalk across the room to the bed where Emma still slept. She looked
so small tucked beneath the heavy quilt, and so innocent with her
cheek resting on one hand, that he could not bear to think of her
as treacherous.

If she had not conspired with Agatha to drug
him into consummating their marriage, then he must accept that she
had given herself to him out of true affection and out of a longing
for a happy marriage. It had seemed to him at the time that there
was no withholding in her joyful reception of his embrace. But if
he was drugged by herbs, how could he be sure his impressions were
accurate?

Worse still, if he accepted that Emma was
innocent of any intrigue, then he must lay aside long-cherished
beliefs about the tainted descendants of Udo of Wroxley. If Emma
was innocent, if her blood ran honest and true, then perhaps Gavin
was equally honest, equally blameless in the old quarrel between
Udo and Dain’s grandfather.

It was close to heresy to oppose his lifelong
training in hatred. Udo and all his spawn were wicked, treacherous
creatures; so Dain had been taught since he was old enough to
understand the meaning of wickedness. The shrill voice that echoed
in his mind told him nothing had changed because he had lain with a
woman.

As he stared down at Emma’s sleeping form it
occurred to him that from sundown of the previous night until dawn
of the new day rising outside his window, that demanding voice had
been completely silent. Whether herbs had silenced it, or the
demands of passion, in its absence he had experienced complete
happiness.

He regarded Emma, whose innocent, awakening
passion had led him to that brief happiness, and he knew he would
give his soul to possess her again, and find with her the same
intense and fragile joy.

But not if she was conspiring against him,
not if she was part of a scheme inspired by Gavin of Wroxley. He
had to learn the truth about Emma, and about her intentions toward
him. He owed it to the folk who called him their liege lord to keep
his wits about him and not give in to blind lust.

With a low, muttered oath he turned away from
his bed and his beautiful, sleeping wife. As quietly as he could,
he pulled on his clothes and buckled his sword belt at his waist.
Then he tiptoed out of the room, down the stairs, and across the
bailey to the stable. The sun was just rising above the high
moorland when he set out for Trevanan.

Emma woke suddenly and sat up in bed,
confused. She thought she had heard the door latch click, but there
was no one in the room. Hawise’s door was closed, though the
serving woman had left it partly open before going to bed, in case
Emma should need something during the night.

”Dain must have closed it before he came to
bed,” Emma murmured. She glanced around the room, searching for
some sign of his presence. The events of the past night seemed to
her a dream, until she looked at the pillow next to hers. It was
one of the new pillows she had brought from Wroxley, plump with its
fresh feather stuffing. There was an indentation in the pillow
where Dain’s head had rested, and in the center of the rounded
impression lay a single cornflower, blue as a piece of summer sky
against the white linen.

Emma picked up the flower and held it against
her cheek, then pressed it to her lips. Here was evidence that
Dain’s appearance had been real. The flower, added to the tiny
splotch of blood on the sheet and the smears along her thighs, and
the wonderful, languorous ache in her limbs and far inside her
body, all told her she had not been dreaming. Dain had come to her
in the dark of night, had ridden to her from Trevanan. And while
she had tried to teach him to love, he had introduced her to
passion, to a desire that flared even now, in the bright light of
morning. She longed to have him back in her arms. Her bruised lips
ached for his renewed kisses.

The blue blossom she held as if it were a
fabulous jewel was proof of Dain’s thoughtful tenderness toward
her. She did not pretend to herself that he loved her yet, but she
held in her hand hope that one day he might learn to care for her.
Surely he knew, for it was common knowledge even among men-at-arms,
that cornflowers were used to make an infusion to treat digestive
disorders, and that the juice from the stems could heal wounds. It
must be why he had chosen to leave this particular flower for her,
as a sign of his approval of her work with herbal medicines.

Emma could hear Hawise moving about in the
next room. Still holding the precious gift, she got out of bed,
wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, and went to stand at the
window. While she watched the early sunlight glistening on the blue
sea she tried to think of the best way to explain to Dain that she
possessed inborn magical abilities. After willingly opening to him
the most private secrets of her body, the next step was to tell him
the innermost secrets of her mind, and to convince him that her
gift was not an evil one. Then, after Dain understood and accepted
what she was, they could truly be man and wife.

She did not think he would take the news
easily, but she looked forward to the telling. From the first she
had wanted complete honesty between them, and now, after the tender
way Dain had made love to her, and with the flower he had left
suggesting there was a hidden, gentle side to him, she was filled
with bright anticipation and hope for their marriage. She would
find the right words to explain her magic, and Dain would
understand.

“Good morning, my lady. I thought I left this
door open last night.”

Emma heard Hawise come into the room, but she
did not turn from the window. She heard Hawise step to the bed, to
pull back the sheets so the linens could air for a while.

“My lady, there’s blood on the sheet. You had
your monthly flow just last week,” Hawise cried. “Are you ill? Or
injured?”

“Neither,” Emma answered. Her cheeks were
suddenly burning, so she kept her back to the room while she made
her explanation. Somehow, it was easier to do when she looked at
the flower. “Dain was here last night. It was he who closed your
door.”

There followed a silence that Emma sensed was
filled with all the questions Hawise wanted to ask, yet would
not.

“No doubt,” Hawise finally said, “you have
certain aching muscles that you will want to soak for a while in a
warm bath. I will see to it.”

When Emma was certain she was alone again she
left the window and returned to the bed to stare at the tiny,
reddish-brown spot that was proof of her lost maidenhood.

”I love you, Dain,’ she whispered. “Because
of you, a wonderful, passionate magic has seized my heart. I only
pray you will allow me to teach you to love as I do.”

“Lord Dain left just at sunrise, my lady,”
said Todd, the man-at-arms who had been on sentry duty
overnight.

He gave a huge yawn that made Emma want to
yawn, too. Even in the shadows of the great hall she could see his
eyes twinkling as he regarded her, and she saw his gaze rest upon
the flower she wore pinned at the shoulder of her gown. Todd’s
nose, once broken and healed crookedly, gave his face a savage
appearance, yet Emma knew him for a kind-hearted soul who loved his
wife and infant son. He was the friendliest of the men-at-arms, an
observation proven by his next words, which he delivered as if he
wanted to offer reassurance.