Once Upon A Time (Historical Romance) (14 page)

"It would seem so—if the woman has hair the color of a raven's wing, and lips full and ready for a man's mouth—yes, I am."

She felt him pull her against him, and she went easily into his arms.

She did not tell him that she, too, could not stop thinking of the intimacy they had shared.

15

Her skin looked like shimmering alabaster in the flickering torch light. Ruyen brought her against him, wondering what there was about her that brought the blood in his veins to the boiling point. It was more than the fact that her skin was like silk and smelled of some sweet exotic scent. His hands were roaming across her back in a circular motion.

"To think I knew nothing of you a few short weeks ago, and now you have complicated my life."

She pulled back and blinked her eyes at him, and painful words tumbled from her lips. "If that be so, it shall only be for a short time. When I am gone, you can resume your life as if we had never met."

He lifted her heavy curtain of hair and pressed his lips against the nape of her neck, causing a shiver of delight to dance across her body. Now that she had belonged to him, how would he put her from his mind when she left him? "How can I do that when I have become your prisoner, Jilliana?"

"You are not my prisoner, Ruyen. We merely made an agreement, and I intend to keep mine. I hope you will do the same. Is it not proof of my good intentions that I have agreed to go with you to Falcon Bruine?"

"It was not by your doing that you accompany me. Let us not forget that Henry ordered you to Falcon Bruine."

She moved away from him, concentrating on the wide cot that was heaped with soft sheepskins and covered with a silken coverlet.

"If I had not wanted to go with you, even Henry could not have made me."

He had to smile. She was probably right. She seemed to have little fear of anything, especially not Henry.

"Can you imagine," she said, turning to him, "Henry actually had a notion that I might marry John." Her eyes flashed as they did so often when she was indignant. "Nothing could ever induce me to become a part of that paltry family. Eleanor and perhaps Richard are the only two I would count as worthy."

"Humility does not seem to be in your nature, Madame. You rank yourself higher than the Plantagenets?"

"And you do not?"

Absently, she began to unfasten her shift and he came forward, deftly helping her accomplish the task. "Perhaps I should feel honored that you deigned to choose me."

"Eleanor chose you," she said absently. "I knew nothing about you until that first day I laid eyes on you."

"I surely knew nothing about you." His hand lingered at the back of her neck and he smiled. "Had I known about your temper, I might well have chosen death."

She turned quickly to face him, ready to do battle, when she saw the smile lingering on his lips. "My temper is not apparent to others. You seem to be the one who invokes anger in me."

"There speaks the female in you. To hear you ladies tell it, you are saints come down from Heaven to enrich the life of some poor fool of a man, when in truth you are Satan's daughters."

Jilliana somehow knew that he was speaking of his mother. How she must have hurt him. "Ruyen, I know that you have many problems facing you when you reach Falcon Bruine."

He raised her chin and held her gaze with his own. "I will not deny it."

"I don't wish you to misunderstand me, but I am offering you the sword arm of my Talshamarians if you should have need of them."

He smiled, but his eyes were sad. "No one can help me, Jilliana."

"Yes, they can. Do you know why I had my nobles pledge a loyalty oath to you tonight?" She did not give him time to answer. "I wanted you to have allies in the event that you needed them."

"My troubles are not theirs, Jilliana, or yours."

She moved to a campstool and sat down. "1 have been devising a plan that I believe may help you in your need."

He began removing his clothing. "How can you do more than you already have?"

"I—" She clamped her lips together, fearing he would misunderstand her reasons for helping him.

He waited for her to speak, wondering what was troubling her.

At last, she drew in a deep breath and looked at him. "Ruyen, I am prepared to have the Talshamarian crown placed on your head."

He stared at her in bewilderment. "Explain what you mean, Jilliana."

"I can make you a king!"

Doubt and distrust battled within him for dominance. "Why would you?"

"Many reasons. Firstly, your mother would never harm you if I made you king of Talshamar."

"And secondly?"

"I— You will be the father of my child. Your blood will run through my royal line through time."

"And?"

"How can I turn away from you when you need my help?"

He came to his feet as if the notion of depending on her charity once more was abhorrent to him. "Your sacrifice is declined. Have you forgotten that we already have a bargain? If I am your husband and your king, the pope might not honor his vow to release me from this marriage."

She felt as if someone had trampled on her heart. But her eyes were clear and there was no outward sign that he had hurt her. "I understand and I shall speak of it no more. I ask your pardon. It was foolhardy of me to consider such a scheme."

"I have not yet decided whether you were born with a generous heart, or you and Eleanor have concocted this notion to further embroil me in your schemes."

"I do not believe that Eleanor would approve of my making you king of Talshamar." She removed all her clothing except her shift and climbed onto the cot. "Let us pretend that I never made the offer. Consider it withdrawn."

He moved to stand over her, his eyes fastened on the way her dark hair fanned out about her lovely face.

"Do you want me to sleep with you tonight, Jilliana?"

She was quiet for a moment, then she finally whispered, "Yes."

She held her arms up to him, and he came to her, gathering her into his arms, holding her and wishing his body did not tremble so. He did not know what he would have done if she had said no. He had wanted to touch her all day. Riding beside her had been torture; he could not keep his mind off her. It was better after he had dropped back to ride with Humphrey because he had other distractions.

A growl issued from his lips as his mouth found hers and they came together in a heat of passion. His hands moved gently over her body and she pressed herself tightly against him. She did not question this enchantment that flamed between them, for it seemed that she existed for his touch, his lips, his body to take control of hers. It was right and natural, and she would savor it, until the day they parted.

Ruyen was suddenly angry that he should want her so desperately. He was no more than a stud stallion to her, someone to breed with, someone to give her the child she craved. If it had not been him, she would have found another to father her child.

He took her face between his hands, wishing he could crush the life from her, to end this torture she was putting him through. But when he looked into her blue eyes, they were soft and alluring, and, oh, how those eyes drew him to her.

He could no longer think of his anger. All he could think of was burying himself deep into her hot moistness and finding the paradise he had found there before.

He touched his face to hers, closing his eyes and allowing the fragrance of her to fill his being. His fingers ran lightly across her breasts, caressing, stroking, forcing a tortured moan from her lips.

In a frenzy of passion they quickly tore away the remainder of their clothing. They found themselves on the cot, and he dragged her beneath him while her hands clutched at him. He entered her with such force that it stole her breath. His jabbing forward thrusts rocked her body, and she had to clasp his shoulders to keep from being propelled from the cot.

"If you want to be treated like a brood mare, then damn you, that's how I'll treat you," he said hotly in her ear.

Jilliana was incapable of giving him an angry reply because at that moment Ruyen gentled his movements and he seemed to swell within her, the length of him extending deeper, deeper, until she wanted to cry out. She could not have said if it was pain she was feeling or ecstasy—she only knew that she ached, she hurt, she wanted him never to stop. Each forward thrust made her crave another and then yet another.

Now there was a new feeling that he had awakened in her inexperienced body. Something was happening to her—but what?

She trembled, she clutched at his arm, she cried out his name. His mouth smothered any further sound she might have made. At first the kiss was wildly passionate, intended to express his anger, but her lips curved to meet his and he plunged into her, deepening the kiss, and his possession of her body.

As their bodies trembled, shook and erupted, they clung to each other.

Jilliana had once heard one of the sisters at the convent telling another that there was much pain in childbirth. Was this what she had meant? she wondered. No, of course not, the sister would not have known what it felt like to have a man become such a part of you that you felt his every intake of breath, and could even feel the beating of his heart, and the softly whispered word as he spoke your name.

How did she feel about him? She could not have said, but she knew that when the time came for her to leave him it would be like tearing away part of her body.

He was pressing his lips against her breasts and she closed her eyes, loving the feel of him. She hoped she would not deliver a baby too soon. She wanted to remain with him longer—much longer.

"Do you think I am yet with child, Ruyen?"

He stiffened and pulled away. "If this night did not impregnate you, then you are barren, Madame," he said, rolling to a sitting position.

Where moments before she was feeling tender toward him, anger now burst forth. "Pray that it is accomplished, Ruyen. Think you that I like having to follow after you just so I might beget a child?"

He could not understand why he was so angry. He only knew that he resented her for using him only to produce a baby—it pricked his pride and made him feel less a man. He wanted to lash out at her, to wound her.

"I curse the day that you chose my bed."

Jilliana was confused. Had he not felt the wondrous joining of their souls with the joining of their flesh? Perhaps it had been nothing special to him, but she knew deep in her heart that she would never feel this way with anyone but Ruyen.

She turned her back to him, praying that she would not cry and let him see that weakness in her.

Ruyen dressed and moved to the tent opening. "I will seek another bed tonight."

Her voice was harsher than he had ever heard it. "After this night, I will not again require you in mine."

Huddling against the wall of the tent, she clamped her hands over her ears. She did not want to hear anything else he had to say.

When he left, her body shook with the deep sobs that she had kept under control. She cried herself to sleep.

A bright sun greeted Jilliana when she stepped into the fresh air. She pulled her white leather gloves on, while looking about her. The camp was astir as tents were being dismantled and horses saddled for the day's journey.

Humphrey led her horse forward. "I trust you rested well?" he said, looking at the circles beneath her eyes.

"Yes, I did," she answered, her eyes moving over the crowd of faces until she saw Ruyen. He was laughing with his sister and playfully placed her upon her horse. Jilliana wondered what it would feel like to have a brother who cared about her, or any family, for that matter.

"Let us depart," she told Humphrey.

He nodded his head and lifted her up to place her firmly in her saddle. He could tell something was amiss between the queen and the prince, but that was to be expected. Their marriage had not started out ideally, but perhaps the two of them would come to love each other. He hoped so. Humphrey liked Prince Ruyen. He had not expected to, but he had found that the prince was a man of honor and perhaps even worthy of Queen Jilliana.

They rode long hours, stopping only to eat and rest the horses. Ruyen did not come near Jilliana all day, nor did she want him to.

On their last stop, she chose a particularly handsome knight, Sir Edward Markem of Brisbane, and asked him to ride beside her. She would show Ruyen that she did not need him, and that other men admired her.

Sir Edward more than admired his beautiful young queen, he worshipped her. She had only spoken to him in passing, and to be singled out as her companion was beyond his fondest hope.

She laughed at his wit, and complimented him on his horsemanship. Not once did she look back at Ruyen.

When they stopped at the campsite that night, it was Sir Edward who lifted her from her mount and escorted her to her tent. That night she chose to have her meal in her tent and went to bed early—and alone.

She felt satisfaction in showing Ruyen that she had no more need of him. Let him go to his precious Katharine. Little she cared.