Ravished (16 page)

          He hadn’t shaved. 
He must have come directly from waking.  A thrill arched through her at the
thought of him tearing from bed to come for her.  Her skin felt afire with the
rough abrasion of his shadowy whiskers, the brand of his lips trailing along to
her ear.

          “You left before my
serpent supped, sweet Alex,” he murmured hot against her ear, dragging her lobe
between his teeth.  He thrust his hips against her as if to prove his point.

          Alex shuddered, her
arms tense as she strove to break his hold.  “The dining hall is closed, my
lord,” she grit out, clamping her legs against his hips, planting her feet on
the ground.  She arched her back, trying to buck him off.

          Laughter rumbled
from his chest.  His breath fanned the heat swarming her veins.  “I believe
there is a bite to be had.”

          He released her
briefly, only to grasp her hose and drag it from under her, rounding the curve
of her buttocks until they lay bare on the grass.  Alex gasped in shock,
reaching for her hose even as she stopped in disbelief as he untied the cod
piece and revealed his manroot to her.  It stood from the white hose in stark
contrast, flesh red and angry, blue hewn veins engorged with blood.  His cock
looked every inch the ravaging beast, intent on its dinner.  She was horrified
and fascinated all at once.

          He reached on
either side of him, locking his hands around her ankles, hauling them around
before his chest.  Alex tried to kick him, but his grip was unbreakable.  He
looked down at her, his hair wild around his shoulders and forehead, his eyes
feverish and dark.  He looked at her beneath hooded lids, heavy with lust.

          Alex dug into the
dirt, jerking as he pushed forward and down, trapping her legs between their
bodies. The position stretched her uncomfortably as her knees touched her
chest, and she felt cool fingers of air slip across her buttocks just before
the blistering prod of his cock head nudged her anus.

          Her muscles
clenched, refusing to give entrance.  Holding her eyes, he took his palm and
swathed it with his tongue.  Alex shuddered as his hand moved down, out of
sight, to his groin, and then she felt him push, felt the delicate muscles of
her anus stretch to accommodate his rigid flesh.  His saliva felt cool, little
lubrication for so tight a place.

          He pushed past the
inner muscles, to the hollow core of her waiting for his possession.  He closed
his eyes, arching his head back as he sank inside.  He stopped as the bulb of
his shaft entered, then pulled back until he’d nearly receded, and thrust in
again.  His moves were short, allowing only the thick head to enter her.

          Alex panted for
breath, moaning as his pubic bone brushed against her trapped cleft.  She
longed to feel him inside that other place.  Her nub ached, pulsing with the
beat of her heart.  Alex cried out as he pumped carefully inside her, never
giving the release her body screamed for.

          Fire seared her
back entrance as he stroked, building her lust to a frightening crescendo. 
Desperate pleas tore from her throat, she was mad with the desire fogging her
brain.  She dug her hands into the ground, trying to thrust back against him. 
A deep, ragged groan escaped him as she rocked.

          “You are so tight,”
he groaned, sinking deeper inside her, burning her alive.  White hot heat
scorched her flesh, singeing her nerves.  She was so desperate for completion,
she thought she would die from it.

          His cock jerked
inside her, responding to the agonizing clench of her rear muscles.  Her womb
convulsed, seizing as he sank to the hilt inside her and hoarse cries erupted
from deep inside him.  His seed burst into her, leaving her trembling, achy
muscles shuddering as he pulled from her depths.

          He fell onto the
ground beside her, breathing heavily.  He lay there long moments, quiet as she
absorbed what happened.

          “I begin to enjoy
your pleasures, Alex.  I fear what want of you does to my immortal soul,” he
finally whispered.  Before she had a chance to respond, he got to his knees and
stood, dragging her up with him.

          Saying nothing
more, he got onto his horse and helped her up, seating her before him.  Alex
resisted the impulse to cry out as her bottom connected with the hard saddle.  Her
cleft felt raw with need, her rear hole bruised from his loving.  She’d enjoyed
the feel of him inside her, but it couldn’t mask the hurts.  Were she on foot,
it would not bother her, but the horse’s bouncing as he trotted was agony on
her sore bottom.  She wiggled, trying to get comfortable.  Just as she’d nearly
succeeded, he scowled.  “We will never make it home if you do not cease your
squirming against my groin.”

          She moved again,
eliciting another groan from him.  “I am sorry, but I cannot help it.  My …
buttocks ache,” she said, trying to hold still.

          He sighed heavily
and pulled to a stop.  She felt him move behind her, and then he said, “Stand
in the stirrups while I slip this beneath you.”

          Bronson moved his
feet, and she managed to stand enough that he slipped a cloth beneath her
cheeks.  When she sat down again, she was comforted by the feel of a cushion
softening the harshness of the ride.  Turning slightly, she saw that he’d
removed his doublet.

          Gooseflesh dimpled
his flesh where it was exposed by his shirt and the slit of his tunic.  His
face was impassive, not showing a hint of softness.  That he would suffer for
her comfort infinitely warmed her.  She faced ahead, smiling.

          “My thanks,” she
murmured, snuggling back against his chest.  He was warm despite his chill. 
Alex wanted to soak him into herself.

          “You are welcome,”
he said gruffly, wrapping an arm around her midriff.

          Her moment of peace
lasted until they reached Derwin Hall, and then she realized how wrong she was
to feel it.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

          “Have you received
a response?” Hugh McPherson asked his runner.

          “Nay, my lord, I’ve
not.”

          “Damn,” Hugh
roared, slamming his fist on the table.  The gathering of his kin looked at him
in alarm.

          “What is it,
father?” Kiara asked with concern.

          “That devil
Blackmore refuses my missives and refuses to give the girl back to us.”

          “Do you wish to
take her by force?  Storm the castle?”

          Hugh stroked the
braids of his beard, eyeing his daughter shrewdly.  “Nay, I don’ wish it ta
come ta that.  Ne’er has there been bloodshed between us, I would not be the
first to begin it.”

          “Then what?” Wren
asked, perching atop a trestle as he took a sip of ale.

          “I thought mayhap a
few day’s passing would make him see reason, but I know now he will not.  The
gel has laid an enchantment on him, to be sure.”

          Kiara gave him a
confused look.  “I don’t understand.”

          “If she ensnares
him as I predict she will, he will do anything for her.  She will ask to go to
the market one day, or for a ride.  When that time comes, we will spring upon
him and take her back.”

          Murmurs of
agreement rumbled through the room.  “’Tis a good plan, indeed, father.”

          “Aye, I like it
meself.  Methinks she will not be long in wishing to free herself of that
loathsome brood.  After all, what McPherson could stand Blackmore company for
any length of time, or vice versa.”  He chuckled at the thought, and sat back
down, shooing the messenger away.

* * * *

          Lord Derwin
blustered down the front entranceway, scowling as Bronson and Alex rode up.  “A
fine son you are, Bronson.  You set the house in an uproar when you tore out of
here on that beast you call a horse.  Constance has near worried me into an
apoplexy with her concern over Lord Montague.  What is all this commotion?” he
asked, his face blooming with splotchy red patches.

          Bronson dropped to
the ground, helping Alex to her feet.  “Alex esc—”

          “I went for a
stroll, your lordship,” she interrupted Bronson, smiling at his father.  “My
apologies.  I knew not how it would upset your household to find me gone.”

          Lord Derwin looked
as though he might not believe her, but his complexion lightened and he smiled,
clapping her on the back.  “I’m glad you are returned.  Mayhap we can go on a
hunt today.  Long has it been since I wandered these woods.  Aye, I believe we
will.”  He looked at the stablehand leading Ebony away.  “You there, prepare
mine and my sons horses, and young Alex’s as well.  We go for a hunt.”

          “It sounds a good
adventure,” Alex said weakly.  Her knees shook, and she clutched Bronson for
support.

          “Father, I do not
think Alex is ready to go off just now.  His
walk
was overlong.”

          Lord Derwin glanced
from Bronson’s supportive hand to his face and back to Alex.  He laughed
suddenly.  “Whyever not?  Did you punish the boy for running off as he did?”

          “Of a sorts,”
Bronson said quietly, shifting on his feet with discomfort.

          Alex couldn’t look
at him.  She was too afraid her guilt would show to Lord Derwin if she dared
look up at Bronson’s face.

          Lord Derwin stroked
his chin.  “You go inside and break your fast.  You’ll see, it will improve the
health of your flesh, and the hunt shall improve your spirits.  You think I do
not notice such things, but I’ve noticed a lagging in your energy these past
few days, young Alex.”

          “Aye, my lord, it
is so.  I will join you in but a little,” she said as she pulled free from
Bronson and hobbled inside.

          “I look forward to
it!” he called after her, walking away to talk with Bronson.

          Alex didn’t care if
they were even talking of her—all she wanted was to creep inside and collapse
in her own bed.  And she would, too.

          No one disturbed
her as she mounted the stairs and found her room.  She locked the door behind
her and dropped into bed, falling instantly asleep.

          She awoke sometime
later from a heated dream, unaware of how much time had passed.  Regardless of
her disorientation, she felt rested, but also disturbed by the dreams she’d
been having.  Bronson invaded even her sleeping thoughts.  She could get no
rest from him, nor did she know how much longer she could resist his sensual
invasions, even in slumber.  Her resistance seemed worn down to but a
nub—nothing with which to shield herself from his potency.

          Her womb ached, and
as she shifted in bed, she realized she was wet with arousal, and still sticky
from Bronson’s earlier loving.  Staggering from the bed, she poked her head out
of the door  and caught a passing servant, summoning them to prepare a bath. 
She stumbled back to bed as she waited a goodly while until they began filing
in, hauling in the large basin for bathing as well as linens and buckets of
steaming water.

          Their movement
reminded her nothing so much as ants, and she dozed between their trips, nearly
falling back into a deep sleep as images of soft, masculine lips teased the
fringes of her mind.  The shutting of the door roused her into full
consciousness, and she stumbled out of bed, locking it firmly.  Alex stripped
her dusty clothing off, removing her grass stained hose, tunic, and doublet,
until all that remained was her shirt and the binding beneath it.  The tub
awaited her, but steam roiled off the hot water, and dragging a hand through
the calm surface near burned her fingers and turned them red with the heat.

          Feeling
inexplicably lazy, she opted to doze a little while longer rather than risk
scorching her hide, and she crawled back into bed.  The moment she closed her
eyes, fantasies of Bronson assaulted her, as if her mind was reluctant to give
up the dream that tormented her.

          He stood with his
back to the fire, facing the bed, his chest rising and falling with each deep
breath.  Naked and wet, his skin glistened in the flickering light of the
fire.  His eyes were drowsy with lust, brazenly raking up and down her naked
flesh, settling on the pink lips between her thighs with a look of possession.

          She longed to wrap
her arms around him, feel the play of muscles in his back, stroke her legs down
his own.

          As if she’d called
him, he was suddenly on the bed, moving between her parted knees, watching her
face contort with ecstasy as he rubbed a hand on her intimate parts.  Some
sound pierced her dream—her own consciousness seeking to destroy the
rapture—dissipating the sweet feel of his fingers toying with her folds.

          Alex moaned with
frustration, stretching a hand to her apex, cupping herself as the dream
ebbed.  She was wet with longing, her cleft quivering with unfulfilled desire. 
Her fingers slipped in the thick cream surrounding the hard bud.  It seemed to
jump as she rubbed across it, and she gasped at the exquisite pleasure that
mounted.  Her drowsiness waning, she sat higher in bed, spreading her thighs
wide as she stroked the bud.  Blood swelled it, heightening sensation until she
panted for breath.