The Rake (26 page)

She shifted uncertainly and he placed his
palm on her shoulder, skating it down her arm lightly. Moving over
her, he stroked and kissed her slowly, almost methodically, from
her shoulders all the way to her toes, missing nothing, leaving no
part of her unexplored. Demi was writhing feverishly beneath his
caresses, moaning almost incessantly long before he reached her
feet, and dizzy with need. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he
caught her ankles and pushed them up the bed until her knees were
bent, her legs spread wantonly.

Looking down at him she saw that he was
studying her woman’s flesh, his gaze liquid with fire, his face
taut with hunger. As if he felt her gaze, he looked up at her.
Holding her gaze, he leaned toward her slowly and opened his mouth,
kissing her there as he had her breasts, with the moist adhesion of
his mouth, the teasing torment of his tongue. Demi gasped at the
intense pleasure that ripped through her, reaching for him blindly.
He caught her wrists, closing her hands over her ankles and holding
them there as he continued to tease and suckle the tiny bud above
her femininity until, abruptly, shock waves of pleasure exploded
through her and she cried out.

Grasping her hips, he shifted onto his knees
and sheathed his flesh deeply within hers while the muscles in her
passage continued to quake in shattering release. Slipping hands
beneath her, he pulled her upright, so that she was straddling him
as she had that day on horseback, riding him. She wrapped her arms
tightly around his shoulders, allowing her mind to recapture those
moments, feeling the same rush of excitement flood her as she moved
in rapid counterpoint to each thrust.

Within moments, she felt her body racing
with his toward completion and when his arms tightened around her
and he groaned his release, her body convulsed in a mind shattering
climax. His arms tightened around her as she felt her body go limp
with release. Almost reluctantly, he lowered her back onto the
pillows and moved away from her. Settling beside her, he stroked
her soothingly.

“
Your mother will be wroth
with us,” she said finally when she had caught her breath. “She has
been at such pains to make me respectable.”

Chuckling, Garrett pushed himself up until
he was propped against the headboard and dragged her across his
lap, stroking her hair back from her face and soothing it with his
hands. “I think she has achieved precisely what she intended …
perhaps not exactly as she had intended, but she is not one to
quibble over the details.”

Demi looked at him a little uncertainly, but
he only shook his head, smiling faintly as he settled his hand over
her belly, cupping it, stroking it. Demi stared down at his hand,
feeling the heat of it sink into her. Slowly, as she glanced from
the expression on his face to his hand, understanding dawned. “You
knew!” she gasped.

His gaze flew to hers and lingered for
several heartbeats before it returned to his hand. The half smile
became a satisfied grin. “I do now.”

“
That wasn’t--it’s not
because you thought I was with child?”

He studied her seriously for a long moment.
“The first time I ever saw you, you took my breath.”

Happiness and doubt washed through her in
equal measure. “Truly?”

“
Absolutely.”

“
When?”

His lips twisted. “I cannot recall.”

She frowned. “Well, what was I wearing?”

He frowned thoughtfully and finally smiled.
“The most beautiful smile I have even seen. But I think it was the
look in your eyes that stopped my heart.”

Demi blushed. “What look?” she asked
uneasily.

“
I’m not at all certain …
love, I think. I saw a woman who looked at me as if I was the most
wonderful man in the world, and it made me feel as if I was, or at
least as if I wanted to be as wonderful as you thought.”

Uncomfortable, she traced the pattern of
hair on his chest. “Maybe.” She looked up at him again.
“Probably.”

“
The one thing I am
absolutely certain of is that I could think of nothing else … nor
gather the nerve to approach you. At first, I think it was because
I was afraid that I’d see that light in your eyes dim if you saw me
for who I really was. Later it was that dragon aunt of yours. By
that time, she’d decided that it was Phoebe I was interested in. I
didn’t know what she might do to you if she realized I only had
eyes for you.”

He cupped her face in his hands and leaned
down to kiss her lightly on the lips. “There are many very good
reasons why I should marry you, Demi, but don’t for one moment
believe that any of it is even half as important as the fact that I
love you.”

The End

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Excerpts from other books
by Georgeanne Hayes follow.

CONQUEST OF THE WHITE
ROSE

By

Goldie McBride

Chapter One

The first roar of fury barely penetrated
Elspeth’s semi-conscious haze, although it generated a spark of
fear and the vague thought that the Normans, who’d taken over
Rasgarth, her family’s holdings, were embroiled once more in a
drunken brawl among themselves. The second was punctuated by a kick
that lifted the man she was trapped under. Elspeth peered up at the
man who stood above her through one eye. Her other eye was swollen
nearly shut.

Her heart nearly stopped when the blurry
visage looming above her swam into focus.

A demon!

She knew it must be, for it could be no
man--this dark giant, his perfectly chiseled face twisted in fury,
his eyes as black as sin.

Renard belched a gaseous cloud of soured
wine in her face at the blow, but gathered himself and rolled off
of her.

Elspeth made a feeble attempt to cover
herself, but Renard had lain upon her so long that she could not
seem to command her limbs to move. It was some relief that the dark
lord’s rage seemed to be focused upon Renard. A flicker of hope
went through her. Perhaps he’d come to take the vile Normans
instead of the women they had despoiled?

Renard lifted his head groggily, focusing
with obvious difficulty. When he finally did manage the feat, his
eyes all but bulged from their sockets, which seemed to lend a good
deal of credence to Elspeth’s fears.

Renard had led the band of ruffians that had
descended upon them like demons from hell after William the
bastard’s army had defeated the forces gathered to repel him from
Saxony, and had lain waste to the lands her father had spent a
lifetime building to fruitfulness. They had slain all who opposed
them and many who had only tried to flee--and those had been the
fortunate ones. Those who’d survived had endured a reign of terror
such as they could never have imagined.

Her own life had become such a nightmare
since Renard had first fastened his lascivious gaze upon her that
she had longed for death to end her suffering and would have sought
it if he had not watched her so assiduously as to remove all
opportunity of a quick and painless end.

“
Guillume--my Lord Arnaud!
We did not expect you for at least another fortnight!”

“
That much is obvious!”
Arnaud of Valognes said in a voice that was deadly cold. “Else you
and your guard might have been on watch instead of rolling about on
the floor with your laymen.” He glanced toward the doorway and
Elspeth saw two men at arms stood at attention there. “Take
him.”

“
But … Guill--my
Lord!”

The two soldiers strode forward at the
command. Each grasped an arm. Hauling Renard to his feet, they
marched him from the room between them. The man he had called Lord
Arnaud watched their departure through narrowed eyes. When he
turned at last, his gaze focused upon her and Elspeth’s blood ran
cold.

“
Out!”

Elspeth stared at him blankly. She had made
it a point to pretend she didn’t understand a word of their
language. She wasn’t certain if it would transpire that there was
any sort of advantage to it, but she had thought it possible it
would. At the very least, she knew they would speak more freely
around her and she might be warned of any evil intent toward
herself or their people in time to prevent more bloodshed.

She was in no condition at the moment,
however, to recall the dangerous charade she had been playing. She
looked at him blankly because she simply could not fathom what he
wanted.

After studying her a moment, he strode
toward her impatiently. Reaching down, he grasped her by one arm
and hauled her to her feet. Renard had shredded her gown when he’d
fallen upon her. Trying vainly to cover herself, Elspeth grasped
the tatters of her clothing as he pulled her to her feet.

The abruptness of being dragged up so
quickly sent a wave of dizziness through her and worse, her body
was still numb and uncooperative from being pinned to the cold
floor beneath Renard so long. Her knees refused to hold her. The
moment his hand loosened, she began to sink toward the floor
despite her best efforts to brace herself upright. With a sound of
impatience, he hauled her up once more. This time, he caught her
face in one hand, jerking it up for his inspection. “Are you too
drunk to walk?”

Elspeth stared back at him fearfully, but
she’d had time to consider her situation. It seemed unlikely,
despite his irritation, that he had it in mind to kill her on the
spot. As tempting as it was to respond immediately and try to spare
herself yet another beating, her knowledge of their language,
pitiful as it was, was her only weapon. Instead of answering,
therefore, she merely met his gaze as steadily as she could manage,
swallowing her terror.

His frown turned thoughtful as he scanned
her face and then looked her over more carefully. She would’ve
given much to know what was going through his mind, but the dark
eyes typical of the Norman devils made them nigh impossible to
fathom. Finally, apparently satisfied that he had discovered what
he sought, he released the bruising grip on her cheeks and turned,
dragging her from the room.

She did her best to keep up, unwilling to
test his temper further by deliberately provoking him, but her legs
still felt strange and uncooperative and it was difficult to hold
her gown together with one hand. His long stride was impossible to
match in any case.

She stumbled. He glanced down at her
frowningly several times and finally slowed his angry stride.

She saw when they reached the great hall
that it was overflowing with Normans. The servants were gathered in
frightened knots, watching while those, apparently, who’d arrived
with Lord Arnaud, lay about them with the flat of their swords, and
fists, and booted feet, rousing Renard’s drunken men from the
floor.

Even as she reached the hall with Lord
Arnaud, they began to push the revelers toward the door.

From the knot of frightened servants, an
elderly woman detached herself and Elspeth recognized her old
nurse, Griselda. “Lady! Lady! What has that monster done to you?”
she wailed, falling to her knees beside Elspeth.

Elspeth stared down at her in horror as Lord
Arnaud came to an abrupt halt. “Shh! Are you mad, woman! Do you
want me to join my ancestors? I’ve survived nigh two weeks of that
pig of a Norman. I’ve taken no serious hurt, not near so much as
I’m likely to take if they learn who I am.”

Griselda scrambled to her feet abruptly,
wringing her hands and casting fearful glances toward Lord
Arnaud.

Elspeth didn’t dare look at him. She knew
few of the Normans had any grasp of the Saxon tongue, but it would
take no great intellect to figure out who she was if Griselda was
determined to treat her as her lady in front of them. With the
exception of her mother, who had passed on many years ago, the
Normans had slain the rest of her family--her father and brothers
had all fallen beneath Norman blades when they’d gone to protect
the realm from the invaders from across the sea. She had no
protector and no way of knowing whether the Normans would be
satisfied with the blood already spilled or if they were bent upon
wiping out the last of her father’s seed. It seemed to her, though,
that the possibility was great that they would prefer not to harbor
the daughter of the old lord.

After a moment, Lord Arnaud tugged her into
motion once more and strode toward the servants purposefully,
releasing her at last when they reached them. Elspeth cast an
uneasy glance at him, but he seemed to have dismissed her. With an
effort, she hobbled over to join them. They stared at her
fearfully, but parted, allowing her to find her way to the back
where she would be less noticeable.

“
Who among you speaks
French?”

Everyone shifted, exchanging nervous glances
when he addressed them. Finally, Jean, the young man who’d come
into her father’s household as a troubadour and remained as her
tutor, stepped forward cautiously and bowed. “I do, my lord.”

Lord Arnaud looked him over, assessing him.
“You are not Saxon.”

“
I am a troubadour,
originally from Vereins. I joined Lord Odolf’s household last
spring.”

Lord Arnaud’s brows rose. “And stayed to
entertain so long?”

Jean blushed but didn’t glance in Elspeth’s
direction. “I made myself useful.”

Lord Arnaud studied him for so long that
Jean shifted restlessly. “Then you may stay and make yourself
useful to me, as well. I’ve need of someone who can speak their
crude tongue and pass my orders along until I can master the
language myself.”