Mark of the Rose: The Tudor Vampire Chronicles (14 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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Rhys looked up as if he had felt the weight of her gaze and beckoned her over. She made her way to him, aware that Elias had also left and that they were alone. He smiled and held out his hand.
“Did Olivia leave as well?”
“She did.”
“She can be a little abrupt sometimes.”
“I noticed that.”
Rhys squeezed her hand. “She is young and impulsive, very much like her half brother.”
“You don’t need to make excuses for her, Rhys. She isn’t a child. In truth, she is almost the same age as I am.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Because it is easier for you to see her as a child who has a silly infatuation with you than as a woman who wants more?”
He tilted her chin. “Did she suggest there was something between us?”
Verity forced a smile. “She didn’t need to. Her desire for you was obvious.”
He met her gaze, his hazel eyes clear. “I do not want her in that way.”
“Because she is a Vampire?”
He looked offended. “It isn’t that. I have learned, to my cost, that not all Vampires are evil.”
“Then if you don’t see her as evil, why don’t you want her? Because she isn’t Rosalind, of course. What a dim-witted question.”
His fingers locked around her wrist and he pulled her back hard against him. “I can no more have Rosalind than Olivia can have me.”
“So you’ll settle for what’s left?”
“You should value yourself more highly, my lady.” He bent to snatch a kiss and she bit his lip. He cursed and drew back. “What was that for?”
“I’m not your consolation prize, Rhys Williams. I know no one will ever match the perfection of your first love. Is that why you never come home to Wales?”
He let go of her and turned away toward the shadows cast by the last remaining wall of the ruin. “I haven’t been home for many reasons.”
“Such as?”
He gazed down at the broken mosaic tiles that still formed the faded outline of a large blue fish. “Such as my stepfather.”
“But your mother married Owain Thomas when you were just a child.”
“Aye, she did.”
Verity frowned. “Was he unkind to you?”
Rhys still wouldn’t look at her. “He . . . would have preferred it if my mother had come to him without a redheaded child in tow. He was a superstitious man.” He briefly touched his auburn hair. “I was blamed for every misfortune from the butter not setting to the fire going out.”
“Those things were hardly your fault.”
“I know that, but if I tried to defend myself I was beaten. He would not tolerate the slightest hint of my ‘devil’s temper.’” He hesitated. “Verily, I think he enjoyed provoking me to prove his point. It was obvious from the start that I wouldn’t be tolerated in his house for long.”
“Did your mother know?”
“My mother was soon busy with her new children. I think I reminded her too much of what she had lost. When I was seven I was taken to the manor house to board with Sir John Llewellyn and learn my father’s trade. I was much happier there.”
“Of course. I remember your arrival well.”
He finally looked up at her, one hand braced on the crumbling brick wall. “For the first time in my life I had a purpose and felt wanted. And then I was given the responsibility of training Rosalind and everything changed.”
Verity nodded and almost hated herself for having to ask the next question. “Yet Rosalind is now married, and you still haven’t gone back home.”
His mouth twisted into a grimace. “I cannot go back because if I meet with your grandfather face-to-face I won’t be able to lie about seeing Rosalind. And then Sir John would take from me the only important thing left in my life—my calling as a Vampire slayer.”
“Rhys . . .”
He shrugged. “It’s not as if I am missed. My mother doesn’t need me, and I hardly know my half siblings. The only home I ever had was Llewellyn Hall, and I cannot return there with a clear conscience.”
Verity reached for him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Didn’t he see that his loyalty to Rosalind held him captive still? That he’d denied himself even the possibility of a home because of his love for her? Verity suspected that if she tried to tell him her thoughts, he wouldn’t believe her.
He kissed the top of her head. “There is no need to worry about me, Verity. I don’t think of home anymore.”
She raised her face to his. “Then what do you think about?”
“This.” He kissed her lips. She let him deepen the kiss and take possession of her mouth, his desire edged with a hint of sadness that made her want to hold him close and never let him go.
When he eventually pulled away, they were both breathing hard. He traced her lower lip with the edge of his thumb. “You are beautiful, my lady.”
“So are you.”
“Hardly that.” He kissed her again and she pressed herself against him and lost herself in the texture and pattern of his touch, and of his sheer maleness. His mouth tasted like a love potion that she couldn’t stop sipping. She slid her hand down from his waist and felt the flex of his thigh muscles as he drew her close.
She moved her hand again until she was cupping his groin and he groaned into her mouth. “My lady, you unman me. Do you wish me to embarrass myself again?”
“No, I wish only to please you.”
She went down onto her knees and set about the complicated task of untying the points that connected his codpiece to his hose and slid her hand inside. He murmured her name as her fingers wrapped around his already hard prick. His hand slid down to caress the back of her neck as she continued to explore his thick length. His hips thrust forward as though he couldn’t help himself, but his touch on her remained gentle.
She found herself smiling in appreciation at his restraint. He could easily force her, but she knew he wouldn’t, that he wanted her to know she was perfectly safe with him. Gareth had taught her how to take a man in her mouth but she’d never really enjoyed it. Now she was eager to explore. She felt bold and all-powerful. She moved her fingers up and down Rhys’s shaft, enjoying the sensation of his rigid hardness, and wondered how he would taste.
“Ah, God, Verity.”
She leaned forward and licked the very tip of his prick, swirled her tongue in the wetness she found awaiting her there. Rhys smelled of warm leather, of fresh grass and the musk of desire, a combination that enthralled her and made her want to swallow him up. She opened her mouth and took him deep, felt his fingers clench in her hair and then slowly relax as she started a steady, rhythmic sucking.
She liked him in her mouth, liked the way he fought the desire to take over and allowed her to set her own pace. She closed her eyes and just concentrated on the sensations, the drag of his hot, pulsing flesh against her tongue, the salty taste of his desire and the urgent thrust of his hips rocking against her.
As his balls tightened with need, Rhys unclenched his fingers in Verity’s hair and tried to hold still. “
Cariad
, I need to . . .”
 
He groaned as she wrapped her arm around his hips and held him close. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it might explode along with his cock. He lost his smooth rhythm and started to thrust faster and harder. The need to climax thundered through him and he no longer knew how to be gentle.
But she wasn’t asking him to be. She took every thrust and answered it with her clever mouth and fingers, drawing a higher response from him. Red and black heat seared through his closed eyelids as his seed flowed and his knees suddenly went weak.
Verity continued to hold him as he kept coming, her mouth still around him, one of her hands gently cupping his still-sensitive balls. Eventually he managed to open his eyes and look down at her. Her face rested against his thigh as she tried to set his clothing to rights.
He brushed her hand away and came down onto his knees. He took her mouth with the same directness she had taken his cock, tasted himself and the deep well of a woman’s desire.
“Please . . .” she whispered against his mouth. “Touch me.”
He arranged her on his lap and slid his hand beneath her thick satin skirts to find her quim, already wet and ready for him. He pressed his thumb to her swollen bud and slid two of his fingers inside her, then kissed her mouth with the same fast-driving rhythm as his thrusting fingers. She clutched at his shoulders, and he added another finger, gloried in her slick heat and the ever-tightening sensation as she suddenly took her pleasure from him.
He didn’t stop but kept driving her onward, sensed that she had more to give him, more to take as he pushed her higher and higher. He caught her scream of pleasure in his mouth and gloried in the clenching of her quim around his fingers before he slowly brought her down again.
He didn’t want to leave her body, her mouth. He wanted her naked under him, her glorious hair spread out on the pillow while he took his pleasure from her and gave it back tenfold. Nothing else mattered. He kissed her throat. “Ah, God . . . Rosalind . . .”
With a cry, Verity pushed away from him. For a moment he couldn’t think what was wrong and then he wanted to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. She smoothed down her skirts and turned away, her hands fisted at her side.
Rhys scrambled to sit up and hurriedly adjusted his clothing. “Verity, it isn’t what you think.”
How could he explain to Verity that in his heart he’d been saying good-bye to his lost love while glorying in his new desire for her? She’d taken him to a level of pleasure that had left him defenseless and obviously without a coherent thought in his brain. Judging by her furious expression, he doubted she would believe him, but he had to try.
“I wasn’t thinking about Rosalind in that way. I was—”
Verity held up her hand. “Spare me your excuses, Sir Rhys. It was my fault, for I know full well where your loyalty lies.” Her blue eyes flashed. “And it will serve as a reminder that I should not allow myself to feel sorry for you again!” She spun on her heel and walked away.
After a stunned moment, he followed her. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know.”
“You’re saying that that was because you
pitied
me?”
She gave him a scathing glance. “Wasn’t it obvious?”
He caught her elbow. “You kissed me because you wanted to.”
“Are you sure about that?” She raised her eyebrows at him, whisked out of his grasp, and ran toward the queen’s apartments, her long hair streaming behind her.
Chapter 10
 
“L
ady Verity!” Verity raised her head and found Lady Rochford bearing down upon her, a satisfied expression on her pinched face. Verity put down the tiny lace cap she was stitching and arranged her features into a calm, welcoming smile. It was just past midday, and most of the ladies were in the queen’s sunny apartments engaged in various tasks connected with the queen’s imminent lying-in. Even little Lady Elizabeth had been pressed into service and was busy unpicking lace from one of the queen’s old gowns.
“Lady Rochford.”
“I particularly wished to introduce you to a new member of the queen’s court.” Lady Rochford stepped to one side with an exaggerated flourish. “I’m sure you’ll be delighted to welcome Lady Olivia Del Alonso.”
“Del Alonso?” Verity allowed the ice in her voice to show. She didn’t want Lady Rochford to suspect that she and Olivia were connected in any way. “Verily, I’m surprised the king allowed such a thing.”
Olivia shot her a baleful glare. “His
Majesty
was most welcoming.”
Verity looked Olivia up and down. The transformation from sulky, boyish youth to glorious young maiden of the court was indeed a startling one. Olivia wore a dark blue satin gown fitted over a farthingale, which was open at the front to reveal a brocaded black underskirt. As befitted a maiden, her long black hair fell loose under her hood to her waist. She was adorned in a wealth of jewels that even the queen could not possibly find fault with.

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