Cast Love Aside (22 page)

“I’m not a spy. Not really.”

“You keep saying that, yet consider what you
are doing.”

“I’m trying to find my brother.”

Seeing how his mouth tightened on those words
and how his face assumed the bleak aspect that always reminded her
of their first meeting, she sought to restore a softer expression
to his harsh features.

“Tell me about Desmond,” she said, “about
your childhood and your family.”

“In a world in which many women die young,
it's a familiar tale. Our father's first wife died in childbirth.
Des and I were the sons of his second marriage. Walcott, our older
half-brother, despised us and resented our mother, as such children
often do. When our father died, Walcott bid me leave Ashendown as
soon as he was buried, and never dare return.”

“What of Desmond?” she asked.

“Des was already gone,” Magnus said. “He was
always in trouble. Soon after he was knighted he came to blows with
Walcott and fled from Ashendown. He later joined King Henry's
service. Spying suits him.”

Lilianne heard the note of bitterness in his
voice. She longed to ask more questions about his past, but clearly
the memories of his father and brothers were unhappy ones.

While they were talking Magnus had rested his
hands on the rail, with Lilianne caught between the rail and his
arm. She liked the easy familiarity of her position, with her
shoulder against his. They were standing close enough to speak
softly, so no one could overhear them. The calls of sailors at
work, the banter of conversation between William and Braedon, the
cries of a seagull wheeling above the ship, all faded into the
distance while she stood within the curve of Magnus's arm. As
always, he made her feel safe and protected, and intensely,
delicately, female.

“What about your mother?” she asked, hoping
he would continue his revelations. “She died in childbirth years
ago, while I was still a squire,” Magnus said.

“I'm sorry for that,” she whispered.

Magnus's only response was a shrug that
appeared to indicate indifference. But Lilianne, alert to every
nuance, noticed how he swallowed hard and kept his gaze on the
horizon.

“You loved her,” she said softly.

“Doesn't every boy love his mother?”

“I suppose so, especially in a household
where there’s little love otherwise.”

“Aye.”

She heard in the single word and saw in the
way he continued to stare into the distance, all that the youthful
squire had lost and all the grownup Magnus yearned to have and knew
he never would.

In vain did an ordinary household knight
dream of possessing land, a house, a wife and children. Men like
Magnus lived and died, usually at a young age, in armed service to
their liege lords. They took their manly pleasures casually,
wherever they could, and the older they grew, the more hard-bitten
they became, because there was no one to love them or to think of
them as lonely souls with the natural longing for home and hearth
that most men avowed. She had known honest knights in her father's
service who lived lives similar to Magnus's. Those good knights
were gone now, turned out by Erland to seek new masters
elsewhere.

For all the pain she suspected Magnus of
carrying in his heart, he never gave any indication of self-pity.
From what she knew of him, he dealt with his life as it was, not as
he wished it could be. Lilianne sighed and moved so she was
standing face to face with him.

“You and I are not so different, are we?” she
said. “Although, I suppose you can return to being one of King
Henry's household knights after your mission is accomplished.”

“If I'm still alive.”

The simplicity and quiet acceptance of his
answer stunned her.

“Do you expect to be killed?” she
whispered.

“It's very likely.”

“Not if King Henry and Lord Royce can arrange
a peaceful exchange for Desmond.”

“They won't. You heard Sir John's report.
King Louis denies all knowledge of Desmond. If my brother is to be
freed, Braedon and I will have to do it.”

“You don't know that!”

“I do know it. Royce and King Henry will talk
and talk to the French,” Magnus declared, interrupting her attempt
to protest with a fierce, yet quiet assurance. “While they talk,
Des lies in mortal danger. Unless I find him soon, he will
die.”

Magnus shivered, and Lilianne felt the cold
tremor in her own bones. In that moment she knew with absolute
certainty what she was going to do before they reached France. She
hoped and prayed Magnus would accept what she intended to
offer.

“There is a peculiar freedom in losing
everything,” she said. “I have nothing left except myself. You have
told me that you own just a few clothes and your knightly
accoutrements. You expect to lose your life soon, a fact that makes
earthly possessions meaningless.”

“What are you saying?” He looked deep into
her eyes.

“All that I have, I will gladly give to you,
Magnus.”

“Stop now.” He looked away, his cheeks a bit
flushed. “Do not tempt me. When this is over, you will live on. I
will not leave you with shame, or ruin any chance you may have of
finding a suitable place.”

“How could your embrace be shameful?” When he
did not answer, she said, “You and I are free, Magnus, accountable
to no one but ourselves. And we have this one night, before we are
caught up in tragedy and in the intrigues invented by kings and
spies.”

“I have sworn never to harm you.” His jaw was
firmly set in stubbornness.

“I absolve you of your foolish oath and
replace it with an oath of my own. I swear that I will know no
man's embrace save yours.” She stopped short of confessing that she
loved him with all her heart. She didn't want to lay such a burden
on him for fear he'd feel himself so bound and obligated to her
that he would neglect to see to his own safety. Once her duty to
Gilbert was fulfilled, then, she promised herself, she would do
everything she could to keep Magnus alive, even if doing so cost
her own life. Magnus was worth any sacrifice.

But first, she would have her reward. She
would know the joy of lying in Magnus's arms while he made her
his.

“After the last few days,” he said, his voice
rough, “you must realize how much I want you.”

“I think I do,” she responded, not adding
that she wanted him, too.

“It's different for a woman,” he informed
her.

“Is it?” She hoped her smile was as alluring
as she meant it to be.

“You are remarkably bold for an innocent
girl.”

“Perhaps I am. But I refuse to be ashamed of
what I feel for you”

He was staring at the horizon again. Still,
she saw how his eyes burned with silver-grey fire.

“No woman has ever approached me in this
way,” he said.

“Oh, Magnus, surely you jest.” She couldn't
restrain herself; she laughed aloud at the very thought of an
entire royal court filled with females who all ignored Magnus's
manly attributes. To her delight, he laughed with her, his teeth
flashing and his stony face relaxing into a younger, gentler
expression. How she wished he could always look that way.

“What am I to do with you?” he asked, shaking
his head as if bemused.

She did not answer him. She had made her
offer and she would not repeat it. She didn't think repetition was
necessary. The way Magnus looked at her when William approached
them to suggest they all retire to the larger of their cabins to
eat their evening meal, and the touch of his hand at her waist as
she started down the ladder to the lower deck, told her of his
desire. When the cold beef and the cheese and bread were finished,
washed down with ale and a few early cherries, Lilianne excused
herself and sought her own small cabin.

She wasn’t surprised when Magnus followed her
a short time later, though she did wonder for a moment whether he
had come to kiss her or to argue. Nervous but unafraid, she favored
him with a smile and put out her hands, inviting him to come
nearer.

His first kiss left her reeling. Catching her
tighter, he kissed her harder still, his tongue plunging into her
mouth. Lilianne put her arms around his waist and hung on while she
responded eagerly.

“This is madness,” he whispered, wrenching
his mouth from hers. “Yet I cannot stay away from you no matter how
hard I try.”

Even through the layers of their clothing she
could feel his need, hot and hard and eager for her. Some part of
her had known since the first instant she had seen him at Manoir
Sainte Inge that they were bound to come together in passion. Every
hour since their meeting had been leading to this moment, with her
fumbling at the buckle of Magnus's sword belt and him trying to
remove her gown, while her hands kept interfering with what he was
doing, and his actions made useless her attempts to unfasten the
belt.

Somehow, laughing at their own eager
clumsiness, kissing and nibbling at each other as they worked, they
succeeded in stripping each other until they stood unclothed in the
tiny cabin that was so small he could hardly avoid touching.

Not that they wanted to avoid touching.
Magnus naked was so magnificent that Lilianne ached to handle every
part of him. He had shaved that morning before leaving Richton
Castle, but it was evening and his dark beard was beginning to grow
back. The bristles scratched when he kissed her. The hair on his
chest was softer than his beard, silky to the touch of her
searching fingertips. His shoulders were broad, his arms hard with
muscles, and his legs were long and straight. Then, there was the
masculine, private part of him that was so huge and eager that
Lilianne was well and truly intimidated.

She didn't think Magnus had noticed her
sudden qualms, for he wasn't looking at her face. He was studying
her tall body with an expression of reverence, his gaze slowly
moving from her shoulders to her breasts, to the indentation of her
waist, and on to the curved flare of her hips and to the place
where her thighs began. There he paused, his heated expression
making her blush.

“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve
ever seen,” he whispered.

His hand brushed the inner swell of her
breasts, his fingers curling around her mother's amethyst ring. He
lifted the cord holding the ring, removing it over her head so she
was, at last, completely naked, divested of the final trace of
family and of her former life. Magnus dropped the ring onto the
untidy pile he had made of her clothing.

Lilianne moistened her lips and met his
gaze.

“You look frightened. If you want to change
your mind,” he said, “now is the time. But if I touch you again, or
kiss you once more, I'll not be able to stop.”

“I haven't changed my mind,” she told him.
“It's just that you are so very large.”

“You are a large girl,” he said, his lips
curving into an inviting smile, “and much to my liking. I’ll be as
gentle as I can.”

“I trust you, Magnus.”

“You are courageous, too,” he murmured.

He reached for her, and suddenly Lilianne was
tumbled onto the narrow bunk with Magnus on top of her. Then his
mouth was on hers, and his hands were caressing her. Fully aware of
the probing intensity of his desire for her, and still a little
embarrassed by the way that, just a short time ago, she had all but
implored him to make love to her, she expected him to take her with
eager haste.

To her delight, he did not rush her. Slowly,
tenderly, he caressed her, cherishing her abundant femininity from
her thick, too-curly hair to her too-lush torso, and right down to
her toes. He kissed, and tasted, and allowed his tongue to wander
into crevices and onto sensitive promontories until Lilianne's
breasts were hard and aching, her loins were throbbing with an
emptiness that screamed to be filled, and her mouth was bruised yet
still craving more of Magnus's kisses.

Only then, when she was panting and thrashing
about in the limited confines of her bunk, did he settle himself
between her thighs. Lilianne gasped in surprise at the first slight
sensation of pressure. She saw his strained face above her and
through the confusion of rampant desire he had evoked she dimly
recognized how valiantly he was trying to restrain himself. For her
sake, because he cared about her, he would not be hasty. When he
pressed a little harder, she pushed back, then winced as his huge,
rigid flesh began to stretch her maiden body.

Magnus placed his mouth over hers, holding
her head so she couldn't twist away. For an instant the tenderness
of his kiss enchanted her, gentling her into brief relaxation,
until he pushed hard against her once more. She gasped into his
mouth as he buried himself inside her. He was so large, so very
large, and he filled her completely.

“Don’t move for a little while,” he whispered
into her ear. “Just lie still. I promise, this will never hurt
again.” He smoothed back her hair and kissed her nose, and then her
mouth with exquisite gentleness. She wriggled a little and the
stretching sensation began to ease. Fascinated by her own body’s
warming response to his intimate presence, she moved again.

“It doesn't hurt any longer. In fact, it's
quite nice,” she said, knowing words were insufficient for what she
was experiencing. She ventured another tentative movement,
thrusting cautiously against the bulk that filled her. “Very
pleasant.”

Magnus groaned as if he were the one in pain,
as if he was trying not to reveal how much it was hurting him to
hold her this way.

“Stop what you're doing,” he said. “I dare
not lose control.”

“I don't think I can stop.” She kept moving.
“It's lovely, beyond anything I've ever – oh, Magnus!”

The words were barely past her lips before
Magnus clamped his mouth over hers again. To quiet the noise she
was making, she realized. He had covered her cry of surprise and
pain in the same way when he claimed her maidenhood. She was no
longer a maiden; Magnus had made her a woman. She rejoiced in the
glory of his possession, her few moments of discomfort receding
into distant memory as Magnus began to move inside her – deep, deep
inside, where the most amazing sensations were unfurling, rippling
and cascading through her. What he had made her feel back at
Richton Castle was nothing compared to the splendor he was evoking
within her now. Unable to control her reaction, she matched him
thrust for thrust.