Heart Thief (44 page)

“That fliggering assassin he—you—” Ruis couldn't go on.

She rubbed her head against his chest. “I know you had nothing to do with it. I'll make sure you're cleared.”

“That's not as important as the attack on you!”

“It's happened before. The desk has a shield, so does the stage, and so do I. Bailiffs add moving shields when JudgmentGrove is in session. Yeldoc isn't only there to keep order, but to guard.”

“When before?” Ruis croaked, cradling her closer.

Ailim sighed. “A long time ago in a southern village. They'll find out who he is and what grudge he had against us.”

“His name is Sloegin and he worked for Bucus. He had a gambling problem.” Red anger veiled his vision.

“I thought so.”

“I can't think about it. Don't want to speak of it,” he said thickly.

She opened her mouth, searched his expression. “No, we'll plan later,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead, felt the softness of her eyelids with his lips, the length of her lashes. Ran his tongue over her tempting lips until her breath came quicker.

The tension in her changed subtly. When she placed her fingers on his chest, she found his nipple and rubbed.

Ruis walked faster.

She felt infinitely precious in his arms. As he caught the rich scent of her, he bent his head so wisps of her blond hair would caress his face. Her curves were soft against him, welcoming him as no other woman had done, becoming familiar yet remaining exciting.

His sex hardened and throbbed until all he wanted was to get her onto a bed where his mouth could roam her skin and taste.

Ailim reached up and traced the pulse in his throat, trailed her fingers around the collar of his tunic. “You look like you taste good,” she said.

Ruis's breathing went ragged. He strained to harness his passions. Today he yearned to show her all his tenderness, how he treasured her. More than anyone else had or would. Ever.

Eighteen

When they reached the door of the Captain's Quarters,
Ruis opened it with husky passwords.

Ailim chuckled and skimmed her fingers along his jawline. “It still amazes me that you use my name as a password.”

Ruis grunted and hurried through the sitting room into his bedroom. He placed her on the bed, then gathered his control. She started to rise and he lifted his palm. “Stay. Stay there for me, lady. Let me cherish you.”

She lay back with a gentle smile but flushed cheeks. Her daygown was elegantly cut quality brocade, three years out of style, but made her look ravishing. She'd look even more ravishing—ravishable—without it. He sat on the edge of the bed and caressed her body, reveling in her soft firmness beneath the lush fabric. He stroked from shoulders to knees, paused to grip her hips, then went back to hold her breasts. They rose and fell beneath his palms, her peaked nipples evident under the thick cloth. Her eyes gleamed sapphire blue.

With a shaky exhalation, he took his fingers from her breasts. Heat crept up his neck, painted his cheeks with arousal. He cuffed her wrists so he could study her hands. Long, fine, fingers; pretty, short nails. Lifting her hands, he put her palms on his nipples and shuddered.

Exquisite, anticipatory tension wound tight inside him.

He touched her hair. As always one slide of his fingers freed her braids. She shivered, flexed her fingertips against his nipples until he joined her soft moan.

Lightly, lightly he caressed her face, following her hairline, outlining her eyebrows, stroking her lips, reacquainting himself with the dear structure of her face.

Her hands explored him and he wanted to close his eyes and savor her touch, encourage her with panting groans to pet him. But this special time was for her.

His heart thudded deep and low. His sex had stiffened until his trous constricted. This time was for her, letting her fly free of everything that bound her.

“Open your mouth,” he heard himself say.

Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushed further but her lips opened slowly. He thought of warmth and moistness. Passion racked him. She needed to crave him, too. He plucked her nipples. She arched, hips thrusting upward. She closed her eyes, but her lips stayed parted and a long soft sigh escaped.

He moved his hands from her breasts to cradle her head, then he bent and took her mouth, plunging his tongue inside the damp cavern and claiming it. Claiming her. His tongue slid and stroked and dueled with hers. He set a carnal rhythm that anticipated their mating, his sex lunging inside her.

She sucked his tongue and he grabbed the unraveling threads of his restraint. He moaned into her mouth.

Never breaking the kiss, he covered her, trapping her hands between them, settling until his hard erection lay against her plush mound. She closed her teeth around his tongue and lust broke over him in a heated, overwhelming tide. He let himself rub against her once, twice, then pulled his lips from hers and froze to steady himself, to prolong the intense pleasure, to build it more for them both.

Now he buried his head in the curve of her neck, glorying in the tangled mass of her hair, breathing deeply of her dark, rich fragrance that made his mouth water. He touched the tip of his tongue to her neck. She surged under him, stroking his manhood long and hard. All thought darkened beneath a wave of velvet desire.

He stopped her rocking hips with his hands, rasped words from his marrow. “Stay. Stay still. For me, lady.” He didn't look at her, didn't attempt to calm his rough breathing.

She kept quiet. A moment, then two passed. Bliss. Her body under his, ready to take him, ready to welcome him. Ready to love him.

Intimacy spun between them, emotions as well as bodies. He raised himself on his elbows, twined their hands together to the side of her. He looked at her from under heavy eyelids. She matched his gaze as she matched him—or complemented him—in everything. Sensuality pulsed between them growing with every breath. Her gaze dropped and traveled over him, cranking the arousal up a notch, heating the atmosphere around them. He was achingly aware of the press of their bodies together. Each millimeter where they touched sent tiny flashes of stimulating sensation through his nerve endings.

Again their eyes met and passion cycled between them. Escalating with every heartbeat. Their hearts synchronized and his shaft throbbed in time with the vein in her neck. Blood pounded in his temples until he no longer saw her, all he knew was hunger.

He needed her naked.

With a harsh sigh, Ruis raised himself from her and stood.

“I need to touch your skin,” she said.

For a moment he couldn't move, then he flung away tunic and boots. He kept his trous on as a link to sanity. His hands trembled as he reached for the tab-seams of her gown at the shoulders and separated the front of her dress from the back along the side seams. Even through her breast band and her shift her nipples were stiffened rosy crests. His scrutiny wandered to the apex of her thighs. Her blond hair was curled and damp from her excitement. His breath strangled in his throat. Once more he stopped to garner control.

The gauzy layers of her underclothes enhanced her beauty, making her something of dreams. “I want, I need—” He cleared his throat. “This time is for you. Let me please you.”

Her mouth opened, closed and opened again. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Ruis embraced the shock of lust. “You could never do anything less than please me, Ruis,” she whispered.

He absorbed the shock of love to the heart.

She kneaded the muscles in his shoulders and biceps, then put her hands by her sides.

With one strong pull, he opened the shift, then freed her from the breast band and pantlettes. He tossed the underthings over his shoulder.

He took time to stare at her. Drink her in now and keep the vision for all time.

Ailim said, “I will never forget the sight of you in this moment.”

He blinked. She echoed his thoughts. He drew his palms smoothly down her body, pausing to increase her delight whenever she quivered under him, or moaned, or her eyes went misty blue.

Soon she chanted his name and
please
, twisting the craving for her higher than he'd ever known. Dimly he knew that when he came into her body this time, he'd be marked by her forever.

Her thighs curved delightfully under his palms. He resisted temptation to touch the dampness of her desire, but caught the scent of her and bit off a whimper of his own. She was rich and ready and he could almost taste her. Later.

Her calves were supple and he caressed their graceful muscle, lingering to steady his pounding blood.

Her feet flexed and arched in his hands when his thumbs found her pleasure points. She moaned and twisted in his grasp and as her thighs parted he got another whiff of her arousal and his sex pulsated.

Not much longer. He craved the taste of her now.

He jerked off his trous and let himself jut free.

“Yes, Ruis. Please, Ruis.” She raised her arms and he had a moment's regret that he hadn't stroked them. Then he saw the pink heart of her and all thoughts fled at the lure.

He grasped her knees and opened her thighs wide, staring at her most intimate flesh. Damp and warm and enticing. Blood thundered in his ears. She pushed against his grip, but he was intent on his goal.

With strict restraint he moved onto the bed, pushing her knees wide and back to her chest.

“Ruis!”

Rich, dark, enticing. He kissed her. Her taste exploded in his mouth and surged to his marrow. More. He feasted until she screamed and shuddered against his tongue.

He lifted his head and looked at her, dazed. Her swollen womanhood spellbound him. That he could have made her so needy, given her a shattering climax!

The dark rose color was echoed by the crests atop her pale breasts. With a groan torn from the depths of him, he moved up her body. He put his mouth on one nipple and suckled, taking as much of her soft breast into his mouth he could. Her taste was lighter here, mixed with the film of sweat from her release. He changed to the other nipple, taking it deep, curling his tongue around it, flicking the first nipple with his fingers.

She cried and bucked against him, her silken skin brushing against his rigid staff aching with need.

Again he shoved her legs wide. This time he plunged into her. Her hot, wet sheath gripped his sex and the wisps of his control vanished.

He pounded into her, knowing only the tightness of her, the scent of her, the sight of her and the hoarse sound of his name upon her lips.

Tension gathered at the base of his spine, wound hard, presaging ultimate rapture.

Faster, harder, deeper. The orgasm hit him like a firestorm, igniting every nerve, inflaming every vein, engulfing him until he shuddered on the rack of delirious ecstasy, her name torn from him. She clenched against him and screamed, too.

He collapsed upon her sweet, cradling body, still merged, still whole.

Her trembling hands slicked over his back and the gentle touch wrung an exquisite aftershock from him. She shivered beneath him.

As he whispered her name, her voice broke on his.

A septhour later he woke and rolled from her, inwardly cursing his thoughtlessness. He'd been too exhausted to lift a finger, let alone summon the muscle control to leave her—the will-power to leave her.

He rose and went to the shower, letting hot water pummel him. When he left the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, he detoured to his den for the gift he'd made her—the Nullifying pendant. Ship and Samba had dug out a fancy little square box from somewhere. He walked into the bedroom and laid it on the bedside table.

She'd curled up, looking small, innocent. Vulnerable. Shadows lay beneath her eyelids. A scar on her ankle from her escape from the earth fault marred her skin.

Fear squeezed his guts at his terror for her this morning. Almost killed! And he'd been helpless to stop it. Impotent to help her. Even more useless now that he'd been accused of attacking her.

He wouldn't lose her. That confrontation she'd had with Bucus before JudgmentGrove was her death warrant. Ruis understood that even if Ailim didn't. His uncle wouldn't give up.

Ruis looked at his own hands, remembering being under the control of Bucus: the lashes, the burns, the razorslits. Cold fury burned inside him. He couldn't leave Ailim to his cruel and merciless uncle. Bucus would soon find some way to kill her, especially with Menzie still in D'SilverFir Residence.

The only sure way to keep Ailim safe was to eliminate Bucus.

The coldness of fear and fury transformed into heat, storming fiery through his veins until his mind seemed light. It burned everything he'd known before—all his restraint and hesitations in not challenging Bucus.