Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles (19 page)

Read Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles Online

Authors: Kate Pearce

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles
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When he finally stopped shuddering and shaking, he lowered her to the ground and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned against him as if her body had been made for him, and they were still joined. He shook his head to try to recover himself, but it seemed impossible. His mind was full of only her and he felt free.
Verity stroked his damp hair, the caress so gentle that he wanted to bury his face in her shoulder and weep.
“Hwyl
,
”
he murmured.
“Home?” She touched his cheek. “You want to go home? Or are you saying good-bye to me?”
He stared at her stupidly for a long moment. Did she not understand him?
Hwyl
meant so much more than just a home; it meant a
homecoming
. It meant that he’d found his soul, his heart, his place of rest in her.
Didn’t she feel the same?
Verity took his hand. “Let’s go back to the palace, then. It’s the closest thing to a home either of us has at the moment.”
He let her lead him back toward the fire, where she managed to find both her cloak and his shirt. He numbly straightened his clothing and watched her wrap her luscious body in the cloak, fiercely glad that no other man would see how beautiful she was.
How could she remain so calm when his whole world had changed? Doubt seared through his mind. He’d finally found what he wanted in a woman. What if he wasn’t the man that Verity wanted in return?
Chapter 12
 
V
erity glanced up at Rhys as they walked back through the newly harvested fields. He’d been very quiet since their coupling and she was beginning to worry. Her body still throbbed with the pleasure he’d given her. But had his desire been nothing but the madness of Lughnasadh? Had she pleased him or had his thoughts drifted back to the incomparable Rosalind?
They approached the corner of the old stone barn that edged the more formal grounds of Richmond Palace. The barn doors were open, displaying the richness of the year’s harvest. Bushels of wheat and barley stood stacked in neat rows ready for threshing and piles of empty sacks were ready to be filled with grain.
As they passed the open doorway, Rhys bent down to pick up a heavily laden stalk of wheat. “Whenever I see a field of wheat, my lady, I think of you.”
Verity slowed her step to look at him. He sounded hoarse and almost unlike himself.
He rippled her hair and it shone in the moonlight. “Your hair is gilded just like the grain.”
She found herself turning into his arms and he kissed her so sweetly she wanted him never to stop.
He groaned. “I want you again. I want to lay you down in the hay and swive you until I fall asleep still buried deep inside you.”
Her doubts disappeared and were replaced by a growing sense of gladness. “Do you think I would object?” she whispered.
He kissed her and she relaxed against him, her body softening in anticipation of his possession.
“You will be aching tomorrow,” he murmured as his hand curved around her buttocks and he lifted her against his already hard shaft.
“No worse than you will be.” She undulated her hips and he hissed a curse. Before she could enjoy her small victory, he hoisted her into his arms and set off for the musty interior of the barn. He released her only when they reached the bottom of the ladder.
“Up with you, then.” He patted her buttocks as she started to climb the rickety ladder to the hayloft. Moonlight bathed the smaller space in silver shadows and Verity breathed in the scent of fresh hay. Rhys removed her cloak and she shivered.
“Are you cold,
cariad
?” He kissed her shoulder. “Give me but a moment to fashion us a bed and I will warm you.”
She turned to watch him gather the hay and drape her cloak over the pile. He stripped off his shirt and hose and for the first time she was able to see him fully. She couldn’t help but walk over and put her hands on his muscled flanks, touching the many scars that covered his skin and yearning to kiss each one.
He caressed her in return and removed her torn shift, his gaze lingering on her breasts and the juncture of her thighs. He sighed as he thrust both hands into her hair and rested his forehead against hers.
“Lie with me,
cariad
?” he whispered. “I am sore in need of you.”
Verity sank to her knees and he followed her, his arms wrapped around her and his mouth nibbling at her ear. She opened her legs for him without a thought and he settled between her thighs with a deep growl of satisfaction.
“You honor me, my lady.”
She touched his cheek and felt the beginnings of his beard scrape against her fingertips. His cock nudged at her entrance and she willingly let him slide in slowly and hold himself still over her.
She forced herself to open her eyes so that she would remember him like this. His gaze fixed on her body, his hazel eyes heavy with desire and his mouth swollen from her kisses. He started to move very softly, with none of the frantic pace of their previous encounters. He loved her with a thoroughness and patience that her long-dead husband had never even considered.
As he worked himself in and out of her, she walked her feet up the sides of his thighs to his buttocks and held on. She took each careful thrust of his hips and gave it back to him. Pleasure spilled over and through her in slow, pulsing waves that felt like they would never end. She gasped his name and he made a guttural sound and lost his smooth rhythm, gathered her closer and spilled himself inside her.
She didn’t mind when his weight came down over her; she held him tight as he shuddered with his release. His head came to rest on the cloak beside hers and he sighed her name. While he rested, she ran her fingers down the long line of his spine and taut buttocks, stroked his muscled shoulders and tried to save every memory.
Eventually, Rhys rolled onto his back and brought her with him. She lay against his chest, fighting the urge to cry until it became impossible and hot tears slid down her cheeks.
His hand cupped her chin. “
Cariad
? What is wrong?”
She could only shake her head and burrow against him, her mouth pressed against his warm skin to stop her from saying anything that would spoil the perfection of the night. After a while, he resumed stroking her hair and she held back the rest of her tears until she was certain he had gone to sleep.
 
 
Rhys woke up to the unpleasant sensation of straw sticking into his back and opened his eyes. The high hammer-beam roof of the barn met his gaze and he remembered where he was and what he’d been doing. Verity lay draped over him, her inner thigh against his hip and her head tucked under his chin. He smoothed a hand over her tangled hair and whispered in her ear.
“Verity, we need to get back to the palace, or you will be missed.”
She shook her head and pressed more closely against him, making his prick jump to attention. With a grimace, Rhys lifted her off him and sat up, propping her still-relaxed body against his chest.
“Verity . . .”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “I was asleep.”
“We must get back. I have no idea what time it is, but it must be near dawn.”
He found their clothing and held up her thin shift. “Would you prefer to wear my shirt? It’s long enough to cover most of you.”
She glanced at him and then away as if she was suddenly embarrassed by his nudity. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
“It would be my pleasure.” He handed her his shirt and enjoyed seeing her put it on. The hem came down past her knees. He picked up her cloak and gave it a good shake. “This will cover the rest of you.”
She pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes. “I can only pray that no one sees us creeping in. My reputation will be in ruins.”
“I’ll take you back through the servants’ entrance. There is no need to worry.” He kept his tone light, but she still wouldn’t look at him. He took her hand.
“My lady, is there something wrong?”
“Not at all . . . if you can indeed get me back into my bedchamber without anyone noticing.”
She pulled out of his grasp and headed for the ladder. Rhys followed her, his emotions in turmoil. He caught up with her just as she was about to step out of the barn.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No, you were . . .” She shook her head as if she couldn’t bear to speak.
He maneuvered her around to face him. “Then why are you so eager to leave me?”
She raised her eyes to his and he saw it then, her regret; while he thought something had just begun between them, she was already saying good-bye. His hand dropped to his side and he let her walk away from him.
He followed a pace behind, wishing he had his daggers with him in the quiet dark of the early morning. Birds started to sing and the piercing quality and pure freedom of their songs caught his throat and made his heart ache. He wanted to stop and listen, but he had a duty to his lady, even if she didn’t seem to want him.
He touched her only when necessary, guiding her by the elbow or an inclination of his head until they came up behind the mass of the stables and headed toward the kitchens. Suddenly, Verity slowed in front of him and he almost ran into her. A rattling sound drew his attention to the tiled roof on their left. He pulled Verity behind him as two Vampires leapt down to block their path.
The older of the two smiled to reveal his long fangs. “Going somewhere, Vampire slayer?”
“What about you?” Rhys met the man’s hungry gaze head-on. “You are taking a great chance. It’s almost dawn.”
“Almost, but not quite, and we are famished.” The Vampire’s gaze ran over Rhys’s bare chest. “And here you are, unarmed and defenseless.” He nodded at Verity. “And she—well, beautiful as she is, she is no contest at all.”
Without taking his gaze off the two Vampires, Rhys switched into Welsh. “Verity, when I tell you to run, do it.”
“And leave you unprotected?”
“It is more important that you are safe. For once in your life, do what I tell you.”
Rhys caught a flicker of movement from the younger Vampire and adjusted his stance. “Head for the kitchens and get help if you can.” As the Vampire came at him, he shoved Verity hard in the other direction. “Go.”
He didn’t wait to see if she would obey him; all his attention was on deflecting the snapping jaws of the Vampire, who had launched himself in the air like a cat. Rhys swiveled and bent his knees, which prevented the male from coming down directly at his throat. Sharp claws caught Rhys’s bare shoulder and he struck out with his elbow and his foot, catching the Vampire and bringing them both down to the ground.
Rhys fought to get on top of the young male, coldly aware that his chances of subduing both Vampires without his weapons were indeed slim. As the male struggled to get at him, Rhys managed to brace his forearm under the Vampire’s neck, baring his throat.
A heavy weight landed on his back and fangs sank into his already weakened left shoulder. Pain lanced through him. He forced himself to concentrate on finishing off the first Vampire, who was trapped under the weight of both Rhys and his second assailant. He punched upward into the male’s jaw, silencing his screams, and then swiftly broke his neck.
He tried to flex his fingers, but his left arm refused to obey him any longer. The smell of his own blood reached him and he was aware that the second Vampire was sucking on his shoulder as if starved. For the moment, Rhys didn’t care about the damage being inflicted on him, only that the Vampire was distracted. He reached his right hand behind him and scrabbled at the Vampire’s waist, found what he sought, and tried to roll.
His sight blurred and his strength seemed to disappear. He tried again, aware of a sense of lassitude creeping over him as the Vampire continued to drain him. Rhys hung his head and tried to breathe through the exquisite sensation of pain. He thought vaguely of Verity. Would she bring help? By God’s teeth, he had to get rid of this Vampire and keep her safe.
With a huge effort, he tightened his grip on the Vampire’s dagger and stabbed the first thing his blade encountered. The Vampire let out a high-pitched shriek and Rhys stabbed him again. As the Vampire’s grip loosened slightly, Rhys attempted to rise to his knees, but the ground was spinning crazily around him and he could no longer tell which way was up.
He shuddered and fell forward; the Vampire on his back seemed to grow twice as heavy and his face was now buried in the dead Vampire’s chest. He could hardly breathe. Aware that he was going to suffocate, Rhys tried to push himself away, but it was like swimming fully clothed against the tide and he subsided with a groan.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on his back and Verity and Elias were staring down at him. He knew things must be bad because Verity’s face was white and even Elias looked concerned. He reached a hand to his left shoulder and white-hot pain shot through him.
“Rhys, stay still,” Verity said.
He couldn’t oblige her. With all his remaining strength he raised himself up on his right elbow, turned his head and retched. By the time he’d finished, Verity had used her cloak to make a pillow behind his head and was arguing with Elias. She was still wearing nothing but his shirt, exposing her long, shapely legs, and from his vantage point he could see that she had nothing on underneath. He remembered the feeling of her legs wrapped around his waist as he swived her and smiled as he lost consciousness.

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