A Wanton's Thief (6 page)

“And I am pleased with your continued loyalty. Now, we must get dry, warm and nourished.”

She groaned her disappointment and stepped away, but her expression no longer reflected distrust or jealousy. That he could always depend on, Molly’s understanding of the nature of his business…even if it encompassed having an abducted maiden in his company.

Molly winked. Her voice lowered several smoky octaves as she leaned in toward him. “You’re very welcome to warm your cold, weary bones between my bed linens…and my legs.”

He chuckled, secretly irritated with himself that the blatant offer hadn’t fired up his blood as it normally would have. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

“Well, you know where my bed is, Falcon Montague.” And with that, she blew him a kiss and sashayed from the room.

“Well, you know where my bed is, Falcon Montague.”

Salena’s mimicking brought him around with a delighted start. Her plump lips were twisted in disgust as she wobbled her head from side to side, imitating Molly’s overt invitation.

He chuckled and sauntered toward her. Looking down at her as she struggled to aright a blanket upon the bed, he replied, “Not only is your tongue as sweet and thorny as a rosebush, your servant’s talents are sorely lacking.”

She came to her feet in the blink of an eye. “I am
not
your servant, you thieving mule’s ass!”

And he had her lifted into his arms in yet another blink. “You are as I say, hellcat.” Falcon couldn’t resist any longer. The urge to claim her mouth once again speared him like a poison-tipped arrow. He knew the consequences, was very aware of how outliving someone you came to adore could be worse than death itself. But this woman had had a hold on his self-control from the moment he’d spied her prim beauty at the jousting tournament. To have saved her to prevent one tragedy had only caused yet another future one, as well as heartache and an endless, lonely immortal life for himself. He now accepted that truth, accepted his temporary fate with this woman.

With one hand, he pressed against the damp cloth over her firm rear so that her pussy ground into his crotch. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the cold thickness of fabric against both his hand and his cock. It tempted him to blinding, maddening distraction. The other hand twined into her long, wet tresses. And with a hunger he’d not experienced in centuries, he forced her mouth to his and attacked, eliciting a gasp from her parted lips.

At that charged, out-of-control moment, Falcon tumbled into blissful insanity.

* * * * *

Salena tasted the flavor of pure danger in his kiss. Even though she silently forbade it, every nerve ending in her body leapt to life. The kiss was clearly one not meant for an innocent. It tempted her as if she were quite the opposite—a shameless harlot. Hesitantly, curious and driven by the pounding between her legs, she parted her lips and let him in. The spear of his tongue—wet and tasting of sinful fruit—hit its target with precise accuracy. It seemed to stab her from her mouth down through her heart, right to her very womb. The damp silk of his tongue chased hers, cloaking it in an erotic dance. She couldn’t move her arms, for he had them pinioned at her sides, but she leaned her body into his, eager to see what lay ahead.

Salena, you idiot! You must stop this madness. You must not encourage this criminal to steal your strength from you.

But all self-scolding fell to the wayside. He suddenly groaned and ground her sensitive area violently against his codpiece. The rough and unexpected movement abraded her juncture over the hardened length of his rod. Salena gasped into his mouth, shocked pleasure bursting through her system. Her clit swelled, throbbing with a need she didn’t quite know how to feed. She thought of him touching her on the ride to the inn, the unbelievable pinnacle he’d brought her to… Maybe she could somehow attain similar bliss with this bulging erection just the way the ladies at court whispered about. If she moved her body over his as he’d moved his fingers against her, could she derive the same pleasure right here, at this very moment? It made her wonder…had Thane completely botched her first mating encounter for her? This man here was obviously more skilled at foreplay, which would likely make what followed much more fulfilling. As her first betrothed, she’d fancied Thane to be a master at lovemaking. Salena had experienced vague dissatisfaction and uncertainty back then, true, but now she’d undergone Falcon’s phenomenal skill in comparison to Thane’s blundering attempts.

Just knowing she had Falcon’s amazing talents at her disposal, and contemplating a satisfying coupling caused a rush of sticky wetness to trickle out of her passage and onto her bare inner thighs. It made her hunger for more, enticed her tongue into reciprocation by plunging deep into his mouth. How she suddenly longed to wrap her arms and legs around him, to get closer, to be utterly filled by him!

A knock sounded at the door. Her eyes popped open and she could swear someone had dumped an icy-cold bucket of water over her head. Drowning in mortified devastation, she withdrew her tongue from the hot recesses of his mouth and let out a muffled groan of humiliation.

Harlot!
He released her as she silently repeated the insult over and over in her head.

“Nay, not a harlot, love.”

She’d forgotten he could read her mind, but there wasn’t time to protest. He ran the hot tip of his finger along her jaw and down her neck, stopping only to cup one breast. She sucked in a ragged breath filled with his woodsy scent when he pinched the already hard nipple through the fabric of her nightshift. Fire seemed to race from his wizard’s hand and melt every cell between her legs. Her eyelids fluttered, going limp of their own volition.

“You’re simply a very passionate maiden trapped inside an amateur’s body.”

Her eyes flew open. “Get your hands off me.” Lord, why did her voice sound so pathetic, as if she didn’t mean a word she said?

He threw his head back and roared, the long length of straight, pale hair falling back over his beefy shoulders. “Your words often contradict your thoughts and actions, sweet Salena.”

What would it feel like, she wondered, to run her hands through that thick mass of hair? Would she rather do that, or violently pluck every strand from his handsome head?

“Do not poison my given name by using it freely upon your tongue.”

“Hmm,” he said softly, crossing to the plank door. “As I recall, you rather enjoyed my tongue.”

“Oh!” Salena stomped one booted foot on the dirt floor and folded her arms over her midriff. “You are
the
most insufferable oaf I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“Fortune, misfortune…” He shrugged and reached for the iron handle. “From my point of view, you’ve been quite profitable…or will be.” And he cupped his erection to emphasize his point.

She ground her teeth together and growled in frustration as he swung the door open.
Pompous ass!

“I heard that,” he threw over his shoulder with a warning tone. To Lance he said as he stepped aside to allow him entry, “You are prompt, dependable and very loyal. The very makings of a Merry Gentleman.”

Lance beamed as he carried in a basket of foodstuff. He seemed not to care or notice that Falcon hid behind a coward’s mask.

“You really think so, sir? Do you think someday, I can ride with you and your men?” By the light of the lone candle, Lance’s damp midnight hair gleamed with bluish streaks. He set the basket upon the hearth, bustled back to the door for an armload of wood and stacked it neatly with the other logs. Immediately, he arranged kindling and twigs in a pile inside the hearth. Obviously well practiced in flames and his expected duties, he had the fire sparking in seconds.

“Oh, with all my soul, lad.” With that, Falcon added a wink and took several moments to root through his gunnysack. Finally, he added, “And here’s the proof of my confidence in you.”

The boy’s grin faded when Falcon held up a gold coin. It twinkled and glimmered by the light of the fireplace. Falcon’s gaze moved back and forth between Lance and the coin in his own hand. He wiggled his fingers, rolling the coin’s edge over knuckles, fingertips, palm. The round disc seemed to enthrall the boy far more than Falcon’s own spells had captured Salena.

“Is it mine?” Lance tossed a larger log onto the fire and walked slowly up to Falcon. His head tipped back, he looked up, watching every suave move the thief made.

“Aye, yours for all your hard work and allegiance.” With that, he tossed the coin upward so that it toppled through the air. It glittered with flashes of gold on its way down, and landed perfectly within Falcon’s palm. He extended his hand. “Go ahead. Take it. ‘Tis yours, lad.”

Lance snatched it, his eyes bulging as he held it up to examine its smooth surface. Next, he bit into it, testing its authenticity. Salena’s heart did an involuntary flip at both the boy’s reaction and the tender generosity of the man who had caused it.

“Mine…”

“Yours. And this one,” Falcon said, drawing another to the boy’s attention, “is your ma’s. Give it to her, Lance, and tell her a stranger from afar sends his condolences for your pa’s untimely death at the king’s hand.”

Lance looked up then, his dark eyes glistening with tears, and choked out, “Thank you.” He knelt and threw his arms around one of Falcon’s thick legs. His gaze rose to capture Falcon’s surprised one. “You are forever in my prayers, kind sir. I will never forget your generosity…” He grinned and added, “Robin Hood.”

Falcon chuckled. “Oh, aye, Robin Hood, that I am, the pilfering thief, the bloody murderer. Now, up on your feet, boy.”

Lance rose and Falcon dropped the second gold coin into the lad’s hand. “Be gone with you. But first, go and snatch one of those tiny loaves of bread and a hunk of cheese from the basket you’ve just brought. Take it with you for you and your ma. I’d like to see a bit more meat on your bones and a few inches to grow on, the next time I pass through these woods.”

Salena’s breath fluttered in her chest when Lance grinned, tears still brimming his eyes. He crossed to the hearth, chose the food offered and returned to the door.

“Thank you,” Lance whispered, and tucked the coins into a tiny leather pouch at his hip.

“Thank
you
.” Falcon patted his head and ruffled the thick, damp hair. “Now, be off. And remember, mum’s the word.”

“Aye, I promise with my life, sir!” And he was gone.

Falcon closed the portal and latched it. Turning, he said with a rasp, “Let’s see, now…where were we?”

Still in shock from that hypnotizing display of ogre-turned-kind-prince, Salena had to take a minute to clear her head. But now she saw the ogre was back—with a vengeance if the arrogant, stalking swagger were any indication. Still somewhat restricted but for the orders he’d given her to make the bed, she leaned back to avoid his advance, her feet planted in place against her will. The defensive move made her fall backward atop the pallet. Her cloak gaped open revealing the nightgown beneath its thickness.

“My, but you’re a clumsy one. Always falling, it seems.” He knelt near the mattress and climbed toward her, the panther stalking his wounded prey.

“Nay, villain. Not falling, but attempting to escape the clutches of a dangerous crook.” She tried to replace the cloak over her chest and legs. But it was no use. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason for her abilities to move or not—except that this cunning warlock was apparently hard at work allowing it one moment, forbidding it the next. At times she could move, and yet at others, her limbs seemed completely paralyzed.

He now perched over her on all fours. She looked up into eyes already glazed with mischief and mayhem to come. Her blood thudded painfully at every pulse point in her body. She could smell the wild scent of him, the damp peril simmering beneath the outdoorsy, pleasant scent. Her mouth went dry when he smiled wickedly, his eyes narrowing into twin emeralds as they stared back at her through the slits of the mask he still wore.

“Mm, dangerous.” He said it with an oddly agreeable tone as he lowered his mouth to hers. Flames of pleasure raced through her body from her lips to the very tips of her toes. He dragged his mouth back and forth over hers, the warmth and softness so in contrast to the murderous gleam in his eyes and the hard body that threatened to crush her.

She turned her face to the side. “Don’t.”

He turned her face back to him. Against her mouth, he whispered, “Do.”

“I-I can’t do this. I…I can’t kiss a stranger.”

He pressed his lips together attempting to suppress a grin. “You’ve already done so, madam. And besides, I’d say, given our prior acquaintance—however miniscule—at court and our prior intimacy, I’m no longer a stranger.”

She pointedly ignored that last remark. “No. I mean… Remove the mask—please.”

Except for the crackle of the small logs catching to the flame in the hearth, silence ensued. He stared into her eyes for the longest time, as if he warred with some personal decision.

Unable to remove her gaze from his, she held her breath when he reached up and swiped the black mask from his face.

And Salena would never, in all of her days, forget the sight that met her eyes.

Chapter Four

“What’s the matter, love? Snarling tiger got your tongue?”

“Please…please give me permission to touch you.”

His eyes twinkled with both satisfaction and sorcery. “You may move all of your body—if it means that you will grace me with your tender touch. And remember, Salena, as always, it is your choice on how far to take matters…but you are forbidden to alert passersby with your screams.”

Her arms, torso and legs tingled immediately following the glowing beams from his eyes. As if she were his servant, she’d been ordered by his powers to make the bed. It had left her limbs in a state of dormancy once the task had been completed. Free now of the spell, she lifted one trembling hand and traced the huge gash that trailed from the left side of his forehead, down over the temple and cheek to the front of his ear. It felt bumpy against her fingertips, yet the raw edges were smooth and white in comparison to his tawny skin. He hissed in a breath when she pinched it, as if to close the opening to return him to normal. It appeared to be a fairly fresh wound, perhaps less than half a fortnight old.

“W-what happened? How…how did you get this horrible injury?”

He reached for her hand and planted a kiss in the palm. It made her think of Molly nuzzling his hand, and a strange, fierce sense of covetousness reared up to provoke her. But that was utterly ridiculous! Yes, she pitied this man and his disfigurement, but she most certainly couldn’t care one whit if he charmed or even bedded another woman.

Oh, but her stomach jumped with an odd swirl of something very much like that feeling when he’d touched her…down there! His tongue danced around her flesh sending shivers up her arm and into her breasts. He drew one of her fingers into his mouth and she nearly came off the mattress with a choked cry of ecstasy. Gooseflesh quickly ignited into an inferno, settling heavy and hot into her pussy.

Around her finger, as he twirled his tongue and sucked her resolve right from her soul, he spoke with a huskiness that affected her in much the same manner. “How did I become so ugly, you ask? Why, by the perils of illegal thieving, of course.”

She caught the sarcasm in his tone, but by now, he had her in a fog of eroticism she could not push her way out of. “You are not—” she gasped when his free hand moved down to drag her gown up, “—ugly by any means.” She pushed the gown back into place.

He lifted his head then, and stared into her eyes with an almost boyish uncertainty and wonder. “You jest.”

“Nay.” A brief moment of pity—or was it tenderness?—washed through her. She couldn’t resist holding his jaw so that the tips of her fingers touched just below the jagged edges of the wound. “Despite the horrible look of the injury itself, you are, I must regrettably admit, quite breathtakingly handsome—for a criminal, that is.”

“Of course, as thieves go, I’m quite sought after,” he said with a snarl. His tone jolted her from that dangerous cloud of reverie. As did his touch. That hot hand returned to the hem of her gown and slid the fabric up the front of her thighs.

As a result, she didn’t have time to give him a biting retort to that remark. In fact, her well-chosen repartee turned to sudden mush within her brain…right along with the mushy ache that settled in her core.

“Don’t.” She shoved the fabric down so that her legs were covered once again. Ah, but it took every ounce of strength to do so, to deny herself the pleasure of his scalding touch.

He sighed as if she completely bored him. “You will get out of these wet clothes, Lady Salena, if I have to
tazir
you into it.”

She blinked. “You are a tyrant, a monster.”

“So be it, but nonetheless—” he blew out on a long breath, “—you will disrobe this very moment. We must depart by daybreak. You will then need a warm, dry cloak. And your garments
will
be dry enough by then to place in my bag and exchange with new ones. That, my love, is a definite fact.”

“Oh!” She growled it out, sitting up with jerky, irritated movements. He rolled onto his back allowing her a brief respite of freedom. “Then impart me some gentlemanly privacy and turn your bloody back to me. And do
not
call me your ‘love’ ever again!”

The laugh came out as a deep rumble that grated on her nerves. “Silly, you are. I turn my back only to turn yet again and see you nude, anyway? You’ve no fresh clothes at hand, it seems, my dear.”

“No, you get me a clean, dry change of garments from your bag of stolen bounty, and I don them and go to sleep.”

“No, I do not.”

She stared agog at him, trying her best to ignore the bunching of his arm muscles as he laced his hands behind his head. Cocky. He was the most arrogant, cocky bastard she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. Oh, but that hard body of his! She struggled to keep her traitorous gaze from moving down over the huge, taut frame…down to that bulge that pressed against the backside of his codpiece. Salena nearly let out a groan when her passage wetted with a hot, sticky fluid.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Her voice sounded desperate to her own ears, and it made her hate him all the more for this strange, magical control he had over her.

He sat up slow and deliberate. His eyes snared her before she had a chance to escape them. That shimmering sensation of his powers—almost like the pinnacle of bliss he’d shown her earlier—oozed into her system.

“Because it is for your own good that I do not wish you to be stricken with illness. Now, you will rise, remove the gown, place it by the hearth and return to me here in the bed. And we will make love just as you wish to do deep down, but cannot admit to yourself. That is, we will if it is your choice.”

“No…” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

Yes!
Her mind shouted out the contradiction. It was as if two people resided in her mind, screaming at one another in constant opposition.

“Must I also take your voice from you, Salena?”

She shook her head. “No. I wish to at least be able to tell you how much I hate you as you force yourself upon me.”

His expression didn’t so much as flinch. “You can tell me you hate me all you want. You can tell me no, as well. You can deny that you want me with your voice. But we both know you only deceive yourself—do not forget I can hear your thoughts. And we both know, as well, that it will not ever be forced between us, but a fiery, passionate mating that will meld our souls into one. Yes, it is ultimately your choice whether or not you welcome me between your legs. I never have and never will force my powers upon a woman to conquer her. It never has been necessary. And this case is no different…since it is apparent your wanton soul will prevail over your prim façade of propriety.”

Salena warred simultaneously with the hate that filled her heart and desire. It was simply alarming how easily he could ignite passion in her by his mere words. There was no eluding him, no eluding herself. In spite of her morals, of her almost-virginal state, she wanted this man to show her the delights of the flesh. She’d wanted it, she suddenly realized with shocking honesty, from the first moment she’d glimpsed him at the king’s tournament. Most certainly, she’d taken leave of her emotional senses since she’d been assaulted by the sight of him kneeling on her bed in her chamber. Deep down, she’d seen herself there with him instantly, rolling across the bed, locked in a fiery embrace she never wished to be set free from.

So why fight a battle she could not win?

The internal admission stunned her, yet it made it all the easier for her to rise and go to the fireplace. Her movements were slow, perfunctory. She ceased her steps and stared at the small stone mantel, wondering how one dull, ordinary night in her chambers had come to this, to a wanton surrendering to a thief, to her handsome, ruthless captor. Yes, she had the option to say no, and she somehow trusted that he would honor her wishes. But the combat with her own curiosity and depravity proved more futile than battling even the weakest of his sorcerer’s spells.

And so, with her back to him, she slowly untied her cloak and pushed it from her shoulders. Unhurriedly, almost sensuously, she laid it across the stone rise before the fire. Next came the nightrail and boots. The swish of the damp fabric preceded the sudden heat of the fire on her naked skin…and the heat of his gaze upon her bare backside.

Already, her nipples stood in tight anticipation, while her clitoris engorged and pulsed with an aching sensation that took her breath from her lungs. Her heart thumped wildly, and she wondered if she’d still have the will to surrender if he hadn’t cast his powers over her. Yes, the ultimate choice was hers, but for now, he continued to wield his authority over her just to see her dry and safe from illness.

Would she have disrobed from the damp clothing if not for his forced, magical order to do so? For the love of England, surely not! She could still want him, fantasize about him, but she’d never have willingly rendered herself vulnerable and given in to him if it weren’t for this wicked, carnal sorcery he wielded over her. But that small bit of self-assurance dissolved through the sieve of his next command, one accompanied by the tingle of release of the spell. No longer under his powers, it
was
now her choice. God, how she suddenly longed for the spell to claim her again, to give her the excuse to salvage her reputation and pride!

“Turn around.”

Drawing in a bout of courage, she inhaled the oddly pleasing aroma of smoke mixed with the food in the basket Lance had brought. But bravery was useless, she realized. Her traitorous body, as if still under his magic, did not seem to care what fears or excuses her mind insisted on. Closing her eyes, she gathered her courage and turned around to face him, her body trembling, her womb contracting against the flames of anticipation that ignited there.

He hissed out a lungful of air followed by a moan. “Salena… Open your eyes. You know you are free to do as you please…or not.”

Her eyelids fluttered open while her heart pounded against her breastbone. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, not with his gaze devouring her as he stroked his long, thick cock with one hand. The dirt floor chilled her feet as she moved barefoot across the room toward him, heedless to the fact that she’d gone to him and obeyed without being told. Something drove her, something wicked and licentious within her soul, far more powerful than his supernatural abilities.

Salena’s gaze lowered slow and dreamlike until they fell upon his hard, flexed bulk. He’d apparently removed all of his clothing at the very moment she had disrobed, for he now lay naked across the blankets, the firelight dancing upon his body. The sight of his tan, muscled flesh made her mouth water. Her pussy soaked with reluctant yet eager desire for the act to come, and she hoped it would be a far better experience than the first had been with Thane.

She clenched her fists, itching to run her palms down the rippled wall of his lightly hairy chest, taking comfort in the fact that Thane had never moved her to such desires. Instead, her gaze moved lower, down over the tight abdomen, down to the veiny protrusion jutting from a bed of golden curls. At court, she’d heard whisperings of how
a man’s tool could please a woman. Visions of that very large penis buried between her legs made her all but swoon. A heaviness filled her labia, nipples, nub and passage all at once. Tightening her groin muscles, she struggled to hold the flood of wetness within her.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. She wanted this man to take her, no matter the consequences that may arise in her engagement to another. But wanting something and actually
doing
it were two entirely different concepts.

“You’ve been released. Your body is free of the wet garments and safe from possible illness. Now you may do as you wish, dove.”

It didn’t surprise her that he’d released her. She knew that he was aware of her thoughts, her every yearning. He knew that, for the moment, she was his and would not be attempting to flee. Even if she tried to do so, he’d be after her in a flash, dragging her back to face her newly born demons. So she chose the less tumultuous route and gave herself up to the inevitable. Her heart galloped into her throat, choking her with excitement when she knelt with her knee next to his bare hip. The warmth he exuded against her leg further seduced her to him, making her long to throw herself upon the blazing mass of his body.

He reached up and drew her mouth down to his. “Ah, beautiful princess…kiss me. Give me what I know your heart requests.”

As if his powers were still in force over her body, she suddenly collapsed across his chest. She marveled at the strength and power of his body. The solid heat of him permeated her chilled flesh, and his manhood pressed hard and thick into her abdomen. Delicious, irresistible sensations bombarded her from every angle, heightening each of her senses to an almost unbearable level. She could smell his woodsy scent, feel his warm breath upon her cheek, almost taste the flavor of him without even touching her mouth to his.

“But I do not know what to do, Falcon. It’s only been…once. You already know that I’m somewhat…”

“Inexperienced? Yes, but inexperienced innocents can still have desires.” He stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ear when a thick strand fell across his cheek. “Tell this thief of your wanton desires, Salena, so that I may take them from you, mold them to your needs and gift them back to you…so that you will never forget me.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat when his hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks. It made her gasp out her words. “I want you…to make me feel the way you did…on our journey here.”