Heartsong (22 page)

“Much better than that. I have a bowl of broth here by the fire. My Lord brought it himself when he came to check on you.”

“He was here already? Mildred, what is the hour?” Rhianna realized there was no light coming through the slit in the wall. Could the day already have passed away?

“Night has descended. Now, you must eat and then I’ll send for my Lord.”

Rhianna accepted the bowl of broth and demolished it along with part of a loaf of bread. Mildred handed her a mug of ale.

“My thanks,” Rhianna murmured. “Could I bathe before you send for your Lord?” Rhianna felt soiled, dirty. She knew she had to wash the last two weeks’ worry from her soul.

Mildred smiled and stepped to one side. “I knew you would feel a need to cleanse yourself.” She pointed to the wooden tub hidden in the corner by the fire. “There is hot water, and I have bathing clothes all ready.”

With Mildred at her side, Rhianna slipped into the tub and sank into the hot water. She lay her head back and let the warmth seep through to her bones. How long she soaked she had no idea but when Mildred cautioned against falling asleep, she nodded and with reluctance, climbed out of the tub. She dressed in the clean chemise and bliaud Mildred had waiting.

“Now, I’ll tell my Lord he can come.”

Rhianna felt a smile curve her lips for the first time in days. Mildred was going to summon the Lord of the castle to see his captive. Somehow, Rhianna could not imagine anyone telling the Lord of Knockin what he could or could not do.

But in minutes he was there standing in the threshold.

“Mildred, seek your rest. I will stay with our guest.”

Guest? Rhianna thought to question him, then changed her mind. Tonight the thought of an argument with Garrett was not something she wanted to entertain. Nay, she had to find out how he and the abbot knew about the trial and Colvin’s plans.

“I have questions.”

“Aye, and I will answer them. But first how do you feel?”

“I’m fine. Now tell me how you knew about the trial.”

He explained while Rhianna listened. As he talked, she asked questions. When he had finished, he asked, “What of your family? I have sent for Arthur, but are there others with whom I should concern myself?”

Rhianna tried to swallow and jerked against the chair in which she was sitting. Never could she tell him about her brothers for he would send for them and they would come. Then what might Garrett deShay do to them? She could say nothing of Lily, for he would wonder why she bothered to care for the child of a servant. He’d never understand unless she mentioned her father. But she couldn’t mention her father or all would be lost. Instead she shook her head. She could say nothing.

“Rhianna, please, I must know.”

“Nay, there is nothing to tell you.”

Before she could take a shaky breath, he was at her side. He stretched a hand in supplication. “I do need to know if you have family.”

“And if I did?”

“Then I would need to send for them and assure them that you are well, that nothing happened here.”

So, she had guessed his plan. He would send for her brothers, and he sounded as if he suspected just what her birthright was. But, how could that be? Mayhap he was only guessing. Well she could tell him something that would quiet him.

“My parents are dead.” That was the truth. “I have Arthur.” If he misunderstood her words...

His arms were around her in an instant. “I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing you can do. Except...let me go back to Wales.” As she said the words, a sharp pain pierced her heart. Going back to Wales meant leaving Garrett. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Aye, it had to be. Her home was Wales. Not here, never here. A sob caught in her throat and she looked up into his face.

A strange heat illuminated his eyes and she guessed it was desire. The same need she felt standing in his arms. The same sensations that had visited her in her dreams. She leaned into him, glorying in his warmth, his special smell, the beat of his heart.

After another deep breath, she watched as his head descended. Aye, she wanted to shout. Oh, aye, this was what she wanted, needed, had remembered from that night so long ago when she had come to tend his injured arm. Then, his lips brushed hers. Any more thoughts dissolved in the thrill of his kiss.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she sighed into his mouth, allowing him access to hers. Heat exploded singing through her veins and she leaned against him, some instinct telling her that her legs would no longer support her. Then he touched her tongue.

She shivered with sensation, loving the excitement that poured through her while strange prickles danced down her spine. Oh, this was what she had to have. For a second she wondered why Garrett’s kisses consumed her as they did.

Then his mouth left hers. Was he leaving her? Nay, she wanted to protest. Instead, he pulled her tighter into his embrace, gracing her eyelids, her cheeks, the column of her neck with a hundred tiny touches, each one more thrilling than the last. Only then did she realize her arms had somehow floated up to circle his nape. Aye, it made sense to hold him close to her.

The thick, golden-brown curls of his hair were a temptation too great to ignore. She worked her fingers through the waves, surprised at how like silk they felt. Without giving credence to her actions, she tugged on his hair so she could touch his lips.

Her fingers smoothed over his face and she ran her fingers over his lips.

When he pulled her index finger into his mouth, she started at the pinpricks that raced through her. If that could affect her so, what would it do to him? He should feel what she was feeling. It was only fair. She dragged one of his arms from around her waist and angled his hand toward her mouth.

When she touched her tongue to his thumb, he grunted.

“Nay, not yet,” he murmured and she desisted—for the moment, smiling to herself. Aye, her touch gave him an equal amount of pleasure, and that thought pleased her.

His hand moved from her shoulder, down over her breast, pausing against the hard kernel her nipple had become. Intense pleasure swept through her and she wanted to feel his touch on her bare skin. Before she could suggest that he remove her garments, he cupped her breast and thoughts again faded into nothingness as his thumb stroked the pebbled nub.

Everything around her froze for an instant when she nearly swooned with the pleasure. She gave thought to telling him to do the same to its twin but when she opened her mouth to tell him, his lips claimed hers in another invasion that sent sparks to her soul. She sighed into his mouth and felt his lips twist in a smile. Her pleasure must also please him.

He pulled away. Nay, he could not stop. If he left her now, she knew she would collapse.

Her fear was misplaced. He tugged at her gown.

“Your garments,” he mumbled. In a second it was gone, then her chemise. She stood before him with nothing but the veil covering her head. Embarrassment swept through her. No man had ever seen her thus. She raised her arms to cover herself, but he dropped the clothing he held, drawing her arms away from her body.

“You are a beauty,” he said, his gaze the most intent she had ever seen.

She stood a little straighter, even though she suspected her face was the color of the flames dancing in the fireplace. His praise made her discomfort fade. But she knew she was no beauty.

“Nay,” she denied.

However, she had no covering and he still wore his garments. That didn’t seem fair.

“But, I would see you also.” Her words seemed to shred what control he had because he peeled off his garments and scattered them over the furniture and floor as if they were of no value. Straightening, his expression grew solemn, almost as if he were going to halt this exploration.

Her heart sank. Nay, he couldn’t deny her this experience. His next question eased her concern.

“Rhianna, you do know what we do here?”

Well, she didn’t know exactly, but she had a fairly good idea. After all, you could not live with older brothers without some knowledge. She nodded.

“This is what you want?” he asked.

Again, all she could do was nod. She knew she was incapable of making a coherent sound. Couldn’t he tell that she wanted this with every fiber of her body? With more enthusiasm she nodded again.

He took her hand and led her toward the bed. After he sat her on the furs, he stared at her.

“I must know. Have you done this before?”

She had to tell him. This time she shook her head. She saw his hesitation and she couldn’t bear it. “Please,” she murmured.

“You are sure? This is what you want?”

“I’ve dreamed about it,” she admitted and felt her face flood with heat.

He grinned. “As have I. Now, move over. Bed is the best place for your first time.”

She scooted to the center and lifted her arms. Shivers raced through her as she realized what she was about to do. Nay, she wasn’t going to give in to thoughts that could destroy her pleasure. After all, she never planned to marry. Why could she not enjoy this moment with this man? There was no one to object. There was no reason for anyone to object.

She surrendered to him, mentally, emotionally, physically as she moved into his arms. Not once did she give thought to the fact Garrett deShay was the hated English.

Intent on enjoying every touch, every caress, every kiss, she curled up against him. Kisses were exactly what she wanted and she drew his head to hers, brushing his lips with hers. It was as if she had released his control. He pulled her into his arms, his mouth nearly consuming hers. With his tongue he sought entrance and stroked every part of her mouth.

She squirmed against him, trying to let him know she knew there was more, and that she wanted what was to come. As if he read her mind, his hands began to roam. Over her shoulders, over her arms, over her ribs, grazing the warm flesh of her breasts.

It wasn’t enough. She jerked her mouth from his. “More,” she whispered. “Like before.”

“You want me to touch you here?” He placed a hand over her breast.

“Aye. Can you—ah...” She paused. How did she tell him she wanted his mouth on her breast? Could she tell him? Then, she realized, she would not have to tell him anything, for his head moved toward her pebbled nubbin.

“Aye,” she gasped as his mouth closed over the nipple. Once again a wave of pleasure washed over her and she thought she might lose consciousness with the feeling. Streaks of fire raced from where his tongue pleasured her to low in her belly. A heaviness developed there.

He treated her other breast to the same experience and an intensity of need grew. There was much more to this, she knew, and she wanted it all right then. But how to tell him without saying the words.

She reached for him. Her fingers would impart her impatience. She ran her hands over his shoulders, over the muscles of his back, his tight buttocks and wiggled against him.

The more she stroked his flesh, the greater her own need. She didn’t understand it, but she wasn’t about to question it. Instead she brought her hands to his chest. If touching her breasts felt so good, would not touching him there give him pleasure as well?

Her hands slid to his tiny nipples. As she brushed first one then the other, she felt him tremble. She smiled with satisfaction; she had been correct. Leaning forward, she placed her tongue on first one, then the other small pap. The more she toyed with him, the harder he worked her nipple, tonguing it, suckling it, drawing it deep into his mouth. And she loved it.

Suddenly, he jerked away. “Nay,” she shouted.

“I do not leave, but you must stop or it will be over before it begins.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but she nodded.

Before she had a chance to take another deep breath, his hand was stroking her leg, moving from her knee to the inside of her thigh. She tensed.

“Relax,” he murmured as his lips descended to claim her mouth once more.

She played the word over in her head and tried, she really did, but relaxation was not possible. His hand had gone to the hair-covered mound between her legs. She jerked. Before she had a chance to object, his finger had found a small kernel that caused such an explosion of sensation, she could not breathe.

“What did you do?” she croaked.

He chuckled. “I touched you here.” He did it again and involuntarily her hips left the bed.

“This is the seat of your woman’s pleasure. The more I do this.” He matched his words to actions. “The better it will feel. When you are ready—”

“I’m ready,” she shouted.

“Nay, not yet.”

For the next eternity she had to endure his touch. She knew she would explode into a million pieces, that she was going to die, here, in this bed, but for once in her life, she didn’t care. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable.

Then he stopped.

Her eyes popped open and she stared at him. In a voice she didn’t recognize it was so harsh, he blurted, “Now.”

He rose over her, nudging her legs further apart. She felt his male part against her swollen center. For a second she wondered if they would fit, then realized this was the wrong time to think of that as he pushed against her.

“I’m told it might hurt a bit.” His voice sounded so strained, she wondered if he was in pain. She almost asked, but then she felt a tearing inside and she cried out.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and kissed her hard.