Her Immortal Love (22 page)

He lowered his head and kissed her, their kiss deepening until Lydia thought she would faint. When they finally pulled away from each other, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom. There were also signs of packing here. Boxes were scattered about the floor and piles of clothing were strewn across the bed. He pushed them onto the floor. Then he turned and took her head between his hands, tilting her face up towards his.

For a long, silent moment he looked deeply into her eyes, and she could not help but think of all the things he’d seen with those eyes; the places he had been, the people he had known. And it all made sense to her now, like a key clicking into place in a lock and unlatching a door. All the strange, baffling things she had sensed about him.

His
difference
.

“Yes, sweet, you understand now, don’t you?”

“Yes, Tristan, I do.” She thought of something. “Is that your real name? The name you were born under?”

He shook his head. “I took on the name Tristan Drake back in the late 1880’s. My birth name is Ieuan ap Rhydderch.”

“Ieuan,” she repeated, trying to match his pronunciation.

He smiled. “It’s Welsh for John.” He lowered his lips to hers.

She slid her arms around him, feeling his warmth, his strength, the calm solidity of his body. She kissed and was kissed by this sexy, gorgeous younger man who, she now knew, was centuries older than she was.

His hands tugged at her clothes. He removed her blouse and undid her bra. She pushed off her slacks and took off her panties. His breath was hot and quick as he kissed her neck, her shoulders, the soft swell of her breasts.

She helped undress him then pressed herself against his naked body, parting her lips to receive his tongue, which darted in and swirled about the warm recesses of her mouth, the rigid shaft of his cock quivering between them.

His hands firm about her waist, he lowered her onto the bed. She pulled him down so that he lay atop her. They kissed softly, slowly, his muscled leg nestling between her thighs.

“
Ana Behibek
,” he whispered.

“What?”

He smiled down at her, his fingers moving slowly over her lips.

“
Ich liebe Dich.
” He brushed his mouth over hers. “
Te amo. Ngo oi ney
.”

“What are you saying?”

He put his hands around her breasts and gently squeezed them, his thumbs flicking her nipples. They swiftly stiffened and desire surged through her like lava.

“
Jeg elsker dig.”
His eyes gazed deeply into hers.
“Kimi o ai shiteru
.
Je t'aime.”

Her eyes widened. “Tristan, are you saying—”

“I love you, Lydia. I love you with all my heart. I’ve loved you since that first night I saw you at that bar.”

“You couldn’t have. You didn’t even know me.”

He tenderly stroked her cheek. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to know people. The years roll away like waves from the shore. Empires rise and fall. But people, no matter what era they live in, remain the same. I saw how nervous you were, how uncomfortable. But you were willing to try. To take a chance. You smiled so warmly, so sweetly at that young man who then turned around and treated you so shabbily. I fell in love with you at that very moment, Lydia. All the time we were together I was just too afraid to tell you.”

“I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything. Nothing can harm you.”

“But I can still feel pain.” He pulled her close, his arms warm and strong around her. “
Rwy'n dy garu di.
”

“What language is that?” she asked.

He smiled. “Welsh. My birth tongue.”

He slid his lips along her throat. As he moved his mouth up her neck, he tightened his arms about her. He kneaded her buttocks then slid his mouth over hers. He kissed her fiercely, his tongue thrusting between her lips where it twisted and coiled around her tongue.

He lifted his mouth from hers and looked down at her. “Will you stay with me, Lydia?”

She saw herself in her mind’s eye. Old, wrinkled, gray-haired, her body no longer firm, no longer strong, no longer desirable. But Tristan was still young, still handsome; his body firm and strong and oh so desirable.

“Yes,” she said. “I will stay with you. For as long as you want me.”

He stroked her hair; the hair that she knew already contained strands of gray. “I will want you forever, my love.”

He pressed his mouth back on hers with such passion that Lydia moaned. He moved his mouth down to her swollen breasts. He cupped one with his hand, rubbing his thumb roughly over the nipple. The other breast he wrapped his mouth around and pulled the stiff nipple deep into his mouth, licking, sucking and biting it.

She twisted against him, soft yearning cries of pleasure rising from her mouth. “Oh, yes, love, yes, don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

He gripped her breast, his fingers squeezing and pulling her nipple, while the other he lashed with his tongue.

“Please, Tristan, fuck me. Fuck me now.”

He used his knee to push her legs apart. He released her breasts and moved down her stomach. Easing his head between her thighs, he clasped her buttocks and pressed his mouth to her cunt.

She threw her head back against the pillow. “Oh, oh,” she cried.

His pointed tongue slid along the moist lips of her sex. Pressing her thighs further apart, he laid her open to his ravishment. She gasped as she gave herself up to the lascivious strokes of his tongue and lips, shivering and trembling from the rising pulse of ecstasy that was building inside her.

He licked her sex with the skill she now knew came from centuries of having done this to who knew how many women. But the thought of those other women he had loved down the centuries incited no jealously in her heart. He was with her now, and he loved her, and it didn’t matter how much time they had or didn’t have, All that mattered was this singular moment in time when he was hers and she was his.

He pulled away from her, his strong, beautiful body glistening with sweat, his heavy cock swinging between them. She saw in his eyes and the rigidity of his face how much he wanted her. Needed her.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

She reached down and took hold of his cock. It was thick and hard but the skin around it was soft and warm. She slowly rubbed it.

He bared his strong, white teeth. “Yes, sweet, that’s it. Harder. Harder.”

She moved her hand faster, using his pre-cum to lube the palm of her hand. She wanted him inside her so badly it was like a taste in her mouth, pungent and sweet.

Her hand still around his cock, she moved the other about his waist and onto his ass. She pressed him down towards her, guiding his cock to her sex. The silky smoothness of the head of his cock slid over the tender lips and chaffed her clit.

They groaned at the same time. Still firmly holding his cock she moved it against the entrance to her sex. Then she released him as he slowly entered her. Penetrating her fully, filling her entirely, possessing her completely.

Once he was sheathed inside her, he looked into her eyes. Then he lowered his head and kissed her, his lips slanting over hers as he pillaged her mouth with smoldering kisses. He began to thrust inside her, leisurely and deliberately. Their loins mashed together and the soft hairs of his pelvis ground deliciously against hers.

He took her without hurry and she writhed beneath him as he impaled his cock deeper. She gave herself utterly to her young-old lover.

“Yes, my darling, yes,” she cried. “Fuck me. Fuck me! Harder. Harder!”

He growled at her words and drove his cock deeper into her. She moaned, gripping his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin. She looked up at his face, at the strong, sharply etched features set in lines of fiercest concentration as he strove to pleasure her.

She knew her climax was only seconds away, but she wanted to lie there forever, feeling his cock moving fiercely inside her. But she would not be able to hold back. And she didn’t want to.

She sharply arched her back and shattered, like fine glass breaking into a million glittering pieces. She cried out his name, over and over. He thrust harder into her at her cries, the sweat pouring off his chest and onto her breasts.

“Lydia,” he groaned. “Oh, God, Lydia!”

She felt his own climax come upon him, his seed jetting deep inside her. He twisted his cock within her and he kissed her so hard she knew he had bruised her lips, his tongue lunging, thrusting, and twisting inside her mouth.

But she didn’t care and as another orgasm violently claimed her, she held tightly onto him.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of ecstasy, they lay still and silent in each other’s arms, their breaths slowly quieting. His neck and shoulders shone with perspiration and her own sweat dewed her skin. He pulled her close until her head was nestled against his shoulder.

“Tristan?”

“Yes?” he murmured, his hand stroking her arm.

“I’ll love you forever.” She knew that forever for her would only be a life span. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

He looked down at her, his beautiful eyes soft in the warm darkness.

“As will I, my sweet. Forever.”

Chapter Fourteen

A Year Later

Lydia slowly made her way up the path that wound around the hill. A warm breeze, fragrant with the scent of freshly turned earth and flowers, swept over her. Just to right left, a huge black-speckled rock pushed its way out of the ground. She waddled over to it and, with a satisfying grunt, sat down.

The rock certainly was not the most comfortable place for her to sit. But it gave her a place to rest for a moment. And she had a nice view from here of the Welsh countryside. From this vantage point she was able to see the village where Tristan had been born.

All those centuries ago.

And where their babies would be born.

Sighing contentedly, she looked down at her swollen belly, a wide smile stretching across her face. The doctor had promised the twins would be born in the next week or so.

Her lips curled wryly. He’d made that same promise at least three times this month.

She slowly slid her hand over her stomach. She had thought the walk would have set the twins to performing their routine bouts of gymnastics. However, since they had kept her awake half the night she supposed they were sleeping now.

She sighed again, happiness sweeping over her like the warm, lush waves of a tropical sea.

“Sweet, if you’re going to insist on taking these walks, I wish you’d stay closer to home.”

She looked over to where Tristan was striding up the hill towards her. The sun shone on his dark hair and, though his voice was gently chastising, his dark blue eyes were full of nothing but love.

She smiled as he drew closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go so far.”

He stopped in front of her. “I just worry that you might go into labor.”

“Ha. That’ll be the day.”

He laughed, knelt down and gently moved his hand over her bulging stomach. “Stubborn, aren’t they?”

She nodded. “Extremely. But I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little while longer.”

He lowered himself to the ground next to where she sat on the rock. “The arrangements have been made for your mother. She’ll arrive the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about Carlotta coming to Wales. Although her mother had objected to Lydia marrying Tristan—she’d still been stubbornly convinced he was some kind of something horrible—but once she heard about Lydia’s pregnancy she at least stopped referring to him as
that person
.

Her mother still shared any news she received regarding Douglas’s baby, a sweet-faced little girl. (Carlotta had sent Lydia pictures of the baby.) But she’d never once brought up the fact that since Lydia had succeeded in becoming pregnant by Tristan that, perhaps, it was not she who had been incapable of having children but Douglas. If that were the case, that raised the specter as to whether Tiffany’s baby was really his child. Lydia had chosen to let the issue lie. Douglas and Tiffany were still married and their baby needed a father. That was all that mattered. At least as far as she was concerned.

She pushed aside thoughts of her mother’s impending visit. Then she smiled as she remembered that Saffron, along with Reeve, whom she was still seeing, were arriving tomorrow. At least she had that to look forward to.

Tristan adjusted himself and placed his head in her lap. She roughly pushed her fingers through his thick hair.

“Hmmm, I like that,” he murmured. “Feels like an invite for some hot. sweaty sex.”

She laughed then gasped. “Tristan!”

“What’s wrong? Have your pains started?” He was about to leap off the ground, but she stayed him with a hand on his arm.

“No. It’s not that. I’m fine.” She leaned closer to his head. “You have a gray hair.”

His eyes widened. “What? Really? Where?” He twisted his head about to see it.

She laughed. “You can’t see it, silly. It’s on top of your head.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t there before?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She gently stroked the single gray hair. “You’re getting old, my love.”

He smiled at her. “The cure worked. But we suspected that when you became pregnant.” His smile widened into a boyish grin. “I’m getting old.”

Lydia couldn’t help returning his smile. but at the same time it saddened her to know that the man she loved would, just as she, someday succumb to death. The idea that he would live on after she died had actually given her comfort.

He tenderly stroked her hand. “Don’t be sad, sweet. This is how it’s meant to be.” He leaned over and kissed her stomach. “Now I will live on the way I was supposed to. The way all men are meant to. Through their children.”

Lydia moved her fingers through his hair where lay that single strand of gray. The sign of his mortality. Of his death. And she smiled.

He rose from the ground and gently pulled her up. “Come now, Mrs. Drake. Let’s go home.” Desire flared in his eyes and she knew what he was wanting.