Desired (31 page)

Joan’s laughter trilled out. “You are a most dedicated
chatelaine, Brianna. Are you going to serve our breakfast too?”

Brianna’s sense of humor returned. “No, I’m not. Get you down to the hall and I’ll join you in a few minutes.” Perhaps she could think of somewhere else she could take them today. But when the ladies sat down to break their fast, they were set on visiting the famous Bedford stone quarries.

They could hear the stone being cut before they reached the rim of the gorge. Chisels rang upon the slabs of stone as they were hit with heavy wooden mallets in such a way as to separate the stone into massive square blocks. The labor of quarrying Bedford stone was hard, heavy work. Ox carts were lined up on the quarry floor and each massive square stone took two hefty men to lift it to a wagon bed of straw. The men worked stripped to the waist, their bodies covered with the sweat and dust of their labors.

Brianna was startled to see that Hawksblood worked shoulder to shoulder with the quarry men. His tall physique and dark skin contrasted sharply with the other men. Brianna drew in her breath as she saw the sweat glisten upon his mahogany skin. He was a magnificent male specimen. No other words could do him justice.

She marveled that those were the same muscular arms that had held her all night, that thick column of throat was where she had rested her lips and the rippling muscles of his chest covered by its black pelt was where she had pressed her cheek as she clung to him in her passion.

As she watched him, she admitted to herself that she had indeed chosen him of her own free will, and a thrill ran down the entire length of her spine as she acknowledged that she would choose him again tonight, to warm her bed and intoxicate her blood!

He chose that moment to glance up at her. Their eyes locked across the space between them as they remembered every intimate detail of their mating. His ardent gaze told her clearly that she filled his consciousness. The intensity of his stare informed her that they would again be sharing their bed and their bodies. Brianna went weak with the hunger he aroused in her. She tried to break the mesmerizing
gaze, for surely all who watched them must know them for lovers.

When Christian saw how it was with
his
lady, and that she could not deny him even if she had wanted, he gifted her with a brilliant smile that made her heart turn over in her breast.

Brianna had brought her sketch pad so she could capture some scenes of Bedford stone being quarried, but later at the castle, when she assessed them, she saw that the magnificent, lithe body of Christian Hawksblood dominated every sketch.

That night, none sat late in the hall. Brianna’s companions, with Joan as ringleader, conspired so that Christian and Brianna could spend the evening hours together as well as those of the night. It was impossible to conceal the way they felt about each other and Joan knew all they would ever be allowed henceforth was stolen moments. While they were in Bedford, the king, Prince Edward, and Warrick were off recruiting for the war in France. The minute the king had a sizable army, he would be off across the Channel.

Brianna lit the candles, then undressed slowly and slipped on her velvet bed-robe, scented with violets. She picked up her brush and absently began to stroke her hair. Would he be bold enough to come again? Would she be woman enough to welcome him?

“Let me do that.” His deep voice enveloped her in dark, rich velvet. How did he appear from nowhere out of the night? She caught her breath as he drew nigh and towered above her. He held out a strong, callused hand and obediently she placed the brush in it. A pulse beat erratically in her throat as he sank to his knees beside her and raised his hand. Her heart began to palpitate and her breathing made her upthrust breasts rise and fall before his intense gaze.

Each stroke of the brush aroused her. It was unbelievably erotic for the dark warrior to brush her hair as if he were her body servant. Deliberately she let the robe fall slightly away from her body. Would it tempt him to touch her? In truth she craved that he lay hands upon her, and soon.

Still on his knees before her, he slipped his hands beneath
the robe. The roughness of his callused fingers made her shudder as he stroked the silken flesh of her breasts, making them swell and become heavy upon his palms. Then he slipped his hands beneath her armpits and lifted her from the stool so that she knelt face-to-face with him. Even on their knees, he was still much taller and she had to lift her mouth for his kiss.

As she lifted her arms, her robe opened and he quickly slipped it from her shoulders and enfolded her nakedness against his hard body. Taking her with him, he lay back upon the floor and held her at arm’s length so he could look up at her and at the same time have her hair cascade upon his chest in golden pools.

“You enthrall me. I never believed aught could be as lovely as my visions, but I was wrong. Tell me you feel the same, Brianna. Tell me that last night you were not simply caught up in the flicker of the candlelight. Tell me that you love me.”

“God help me, I believe I do,” she whispered, her eyes and her voice smoky with desire.

He set about her arousal with deliberate cunning. Her own sexuality was so new to her, she was by degrees enchanted, enamored, enthralled, enraptured, entwined, engrossed, ensnared, enchained, and finally engulfed by the driving force that was Christian Hawksblood.

When she was on the edge of mindlessness, begging him to fullfil all the fantasies his rampant manroot had promised, he demanded, “Swear to me you will renounce your betrothal to my brother.” His fingertips caressed her woman’s cleft with drugging strokes until she felt she would drown in her need to have him anchored deep inside her, thrusting until the night exploded.

“Yes, yes, I swear,” she promised raggedly, and in that moment she meant the vow with all her heart.

Their mating was so fierce, Brianna feared she might not survive it, but all too soon she was screaming her pleasure, then mourning his withdrawal.

Again Christian experienced a surge of renewed vigor after he lay upon her totally spent. He gave thanks that it was so. No woman had ever affected him in this way before.

Brianna cast him a playful glance as he lifted her and
carried her to the bed. She was suddenly in a mood to test her power over her warrior lover. Could she take him to the edge of mindlessness where he would swear any vow if only she would give him that for which he begged? She smiled a secret smile and set about her diabolical foreplay.

He had taught her well. Taught her the value of feathered fingertip caresses; taught her the effect of sleek tongue sliding into hidden clefts, then licking and suckling until he cried for mercy. She had weapons he had no defense against, like her silken hair drifting upon his hard body until it screamed for release. Like nipples that grazed his flesh, teased his lips, and scalded the head of his phallus as she rubbed each little jewel across the tiny opening on his cock tip.

“Brianna, enough torture, I’ll spill,” he gasped. He rose up and tried to drag her beneath him, but she pushed him back upon the bed and slowly mounted him, then proceeded to draw out the torture just a little longer.

He gazed up at her with love shining from his eyes. “You are beautiful in your passion, as I knew you would be.”

His words were her undoing. She slipped down into his arms and his deep kiss brought her to instant fulfillment. “Swear you will always love me as you do at this moment.” She smiled ironically, for once again it was Christian who demanded vows from her kiss-swollen lips.

Much later as her Arabian Knight slept, Brianna crept from the bed with the compelling need to capture his likeness. Even relaxed in sleep, his long, muscular limbs looked hard as iron. She sketched every detail of the black scimitar, curving along the inside of his thigh. In the candleglow, his magnificent torso was all flame and shadow and she knew it would take every ounce of her skill to do him justice. She carefully put the sketches away with some she had made of Gnasher, then unable to be apart from him one moment longer, crept back beneath the covers into their warm love cocoon. Possessive arms reached out to enfold her against his heart.

Again, he left her before dawn. Later, Brianna wondered if he had had a premonition that Warrick was about to descend upon them.

The hall, the courtyard, and the surrounding fields were
filled with men. The earl had been to his castle of Warrick, forty miles west, to fetch all his knights and fighting men, as well as those at the nearby royal residence of Kenilworth. He told Hawksblood that Prince Edward had gone east to fetch the men garrisoned at Castle Hedingham and Colchester, while the king himself had traveled south to gather the fighting men from Odiham, Winchester, and Arundel.

Hawksblood found his father in fine fettle. They grinned at each other as they looked over the army he had gathered. It seemed every man in England was ready to follow their ambitious king to France to pluck the crown from the usurper and place it where it rightfully belonged.

“I’m turning the men of Warrick over to your command.” Hawksblood knew this was no test. Warrick had seen him in battle and knew his worth. His father expected him to hone their fighting skills and then be responsible for the men of Warrick when they went to France.

“I’ll put them to work hauling stone today. We’ll leave for Windsor at dawn.”

Hawksblood spent the day getting to know the men of Warrick. He was pleasantly surprised that the demesne boasted a thousand fighting men. It was only forty miles from Bedford and he decided he would have both in the not too distant future.

Brianna was concerned how Bedford would feed such a horde, but the “Mad Hound” earl had trained his men to live off the land. She was relieved that none came to the hall that night, not even Hawksblood.

Brianna and Joan spent the long evening together. Now they were not just best friends, but allies in love. They shared their secret hopes and fears about their lovers, promising each other everything would somehow work out happily, and in this way they banished the terrifying specter of imminent war.

As Brianna sought her own chamber, Mr. Burke handed her a note. Her heart constricted. Surely Hawksblood wouldn’t compromise her with a furtive visit? A sigh escaped her lips as she avidly scanned his words.

Precious Lady:

I will not approach you until we are safely back at Windsor, but I shall hold you to your vow
.

There was no signature, only a curved scimitar.

O
n the ride back to Windsor, Paddy had been assigned to look after the ladies’ comforts. He was glad that Adele had decided to leave Clancy behind. She loved the cat enough to want what was best for him and decided he would be happiest left on his own territory. Paddy no longer had a rival for Adele’s affections.

On the road they were joined by a small army Prince Edward had gathered from Hedingham, Colchester, and Berkhamsted. He told Warrick and Hawksblood that the king had summoned his earls from the north, from Wales, and from Ireland. They knew without being told that Edward III would embark on his great offensive the moment the vast army was gathered. The king’s towering ambition coupled with his excessive energy and recklessness could see them under sail in a fortnight.

Prince Edward found it impossible to be alone with Joan and had to content himself with a hastily scribbled note.

Every mile that brought Brianna closer to Windsor, brought her closer to Robert de Beauchamp. She was dreading the confrontation. How could she repudiate him? What words could she offer in explanation? To tell him she loved his bastard brother would not only be cruel, it would be reckless, like throwing oil onto fire. Somehow she would
have to find the words. She had promised Christian she would not go through with the betrothal. She realized it would be the most difficult thing she had ever had to do, but resolutely decided to break it off as soon as possible.

Brianna bathed away the dust of the road, chose a sober-colored tunic of blue, and went in search of Robert. She was shocked to learn from his servants that he was not yet recovered from his wound. She found him in his chamber, reclining on a couch with his leg propped up with a pillow.

His face lit up at the sight of her. “Brianna! God, how I’ve missed your lovely face.”

She saw with dismay that he could not arise, but held out his arms to her. Most self-consciously she approached his couch, allowed him a kiss upon her cheek, then stiffly withdrew to a seat a short distance apart. “Robert, you are not yet recovered,” she said with compassion.

“Recovered?” he said bitterly, “I’ll never be recovered!”

“Whatever do you mean? Has the wound not healed?” Brianna could not dispel a feeling of impending doom.

“It would have healed long ago if that accursed animal hadn’t bitten me. The king’s physician, John Bray, says the thigh bone is infected and I’ll be left with a limp.”