The Rose Red Bride JK2 (6 page)

Desire stirred again as he caressed her with his tongue. She twisted and turned, but he held her fast, allowing her no escape from the pleasure he was determined to grant. Vivienne writhed, the climax coming more quickly this time, she grasped fistfuls of the cloak for her lover was out of reach. She knew the moment was come, she bit down into the fur to stifle her shout of release, she knew she locked her knees around him and shook like a leaf in the wind.

This was what had made Madeline smile, she knew it well.

He was stretched out beside her before the erratic pace of her heart had slowed and Vivienne caught him close. She ran her hands over him as possessively as he had touched her, exhausted but wanting him to share in the pleasure he had granted to her. She felt the muscles beneath his smooth flesh, felt again the strength he held in check.

“Lady mine,” he murmured, even as he bestowed a kiss within her ear.

Vivienne reached down, knowing full well what she would find, and let her hand close around his erection. She wanted to return his caresses in kind, though she was surprised when he gasped at her bold touch. He eased her grip upon him and she moved her fingers as he indicated, liking that she roused the same tension of desire in him as he had in her. Indeed, she felt her own passion kindling as his breathing changed. It was potent, to be able to grant such pleasure to him as he had lavished upon her, and she reveled in his every caught breath and moan of pleasure.

Vivienne felt him shiver, saw the glimmer of intent in his eyes, felt his muscles tense. His breathing quickened and she laid her cheek upon his chest to hear his racing heart. She touched him with greater surety, learning quickly what he liked best, savoring her effect upon him.

He muttered something and caught her waist in his hands. The strength of his hands nearly encircled her, making her feel small and feminine. He eased her to her back, and then he was atop her. He braced his weight upon his elbows, and the hair upon his chest tickled her breasts. His golden hair touched her cheek and Vivienne inhaled the scent of him, the taste of the wind that clung to his hair. She felt the length of him against her, his flesh so different from her own, and stretched out beneath him, arching against his heat.

He laced his fingers with hers and she thought she saw his smile before his mouth claimed hers once again. His kiss was tender yet possessive, he kissed her thoroughly and with a languid ease. Tears pricked Vivienne’s eyes, for she had never expected such sweetness between her and her mate, and surely not so soon.

He settled between her thighs as he kissed her, the heat of him pressing against her. Vivienne parted her legs, knowing full well what had to happen. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it was not as painful as rumor hinted, and willed herself to welcome her lover true.

He eased into her with a care that told her he had heard the same rumors. Vivienne caught her breath at the size of him, then gripped his shoulders as she became accustomed to this new sensation. But the pain was only fleeting.

Indeed, as he moved, she was awed by a sudden sense that they two were as one. She learned his rhythm and matched it with her own, even as she felt the heat rising within her once again.

He slipped one hand between them and touched Vivienne once again, his fingertips making her writhe beneath him. Her body responded to his touch so surely that they might have met thus a thousand times, and Vivienne knew this to be the mark of their entangled destiny. A wild joy seized her heart, for she had won the fate she desired more than anything else.

Even while she marveled at this gift, the heat rose between them to a relentless crescendo. She laid her hand upon his chest and felt his heart thundering in a echo of her own. Two hearts beat as one, two mouths tasted deeply of each other, two bodies felt the spark of the quickening in the same moment, two voices cried out together in ecstatic release.

And when Vivienne fell asleep in the warm embrace of her lover true, she did indeed smile the smile she had yearned to smile.

* * *

He awakened to the sound of a cock’s cry in the village, so suddenly alert and filled with an unfamiliar sense of wellbeing that, for a moment, he could not name where he was. It was yet dark, though there was a smudge of pink along the eastern horizon. That light was sufficient to reveal the features of the woman who slept beside him, a smile curving the fullness of her lips.

Then he remembered.

Vivienne’s russet hair was strewn across the pair of them like a fisherman’s net. He stared at her, savoring the chance to study her unobserved. She was wrought tall and amply curved, though he had felt as much the night before. Her lips were full, her eyes thickly lashed, her complexion fair. He could discern a few freckles across the bridge of her nose, and again across her collarbone, which made her look young and vulnerable.

And the blood of her maidenhead stained the linen chemise tangled about her hips. Guilt stabbed him once again, though he dared not indulge it. He rose abruptly, putting distance between them, knowing that truth would do little to ease what must necessarily follow.

Truly, it was his own weakness that plagued him. He had not been wrought to use other people to his own ends, however justified his goals might be. He dressed with curt movements, his gaze fixed upon the woman who curled into the hollow of warmth his body had left, reminding himself of what he was compelled to do.

He was not truly surprised to find himself hating what he had become, though he hoped with all his heart and soul that the reward would be worth the price.

His daughters, after all, deserved no less than his all.

* * *

Chapter Three

Vivienne awakened, feeling slightly chilled, and nestled deeper into the fur lining of her cloak. She was well content, for she had learned the import of Madeline’s secretive smile. She smiled herself and stretched out a hand for her lover true, more than amenable to feeling his caress once more.

Vivienne’s fingers closed upon emptiness, and her eyes flew open. Surely he had not returned to his fairy realm without sparing her a word?

Only the first touch of the dawn lit the sill of the chamber and shadows yet lurked in the corners. The cold of night emanated from the stone walls. Shapes were discernible as shadows against the shadows, including one large male silhouette before the window. Vivienne sighed with relief.

He stood with arms crossed and feet braced against the floor, the sky behind him a rosy luminescent pearl. His hood was drawn over his head and cast his features in deeper shadow, though Vivienne knew he watched her avidly. She might have been fearful of his size and stillness, if he had not introduced her so tenderly to the delights of the marital bed.

But she knew sufficient of this man to feel no such fear. She granted him a smile, though she could not see whether he responded in kind.

She sat up, knowing her hair would have crept free from her braid and her chemise tangled around her waist, knowing she looked like a maiden thoroughly sampled and sated. For once in her life, she did not care that she was not so orderly as Madeline.

“Surely you cannot mean to leave so soon?” she asked. “It is still dark. Surely you can return to my side for a few moments yet.” She eased back, making space for him on the pallet, but he did not move.

“It is late enough,” he said, his words terse. He spared the barest glance to the window, and his tone did not soften. “Garb yourself. We depart immediately.”

Vivienne struggled to make sense of both his words and his manner. “Depart? But we have only spent one night abed.”

“And it is sufficient to require our timely departure.” He crossed the chamber and lifted her discarded kirtle from the floor, shaking it out with impatience before offering it to her.

Vivienne pushed her hair back from her brow. “But this is not my expectation,” she argued. “The tale clearly declared that there would be three nights of courtship, not one, and a red rose as a bride price before the nuptials.”

“Your bride price was considerably higher than a single rose,” he said sharply and tried to hand her kirtle to her again.

Vivienne stared at him in astonishment and a dreadful sense assailed her. Had she mistaken a tale for some other truth?

What had Alexander done?

“Hasten yourself. There is no time to delay.”

Vivienne rose reluctantly to her feet and took the garment from him, hoping her fears proved groundless. She tried to touch his hand in the transaction, but he pulled his fingers away. Whether it was by accident or design, his gesture made Vivienne’s confidence falter further.

“You cannot mean that you have already paid a bride price,” she said, her heart fairly in her throat. “Surely you but know its value and intend to pay it two days hence.”

“It is paid, and doubtless half spent.”

“What price did you pay?” She thought he might not answer her, so continued, her tone firm. “Surely I have a right to know my own supposed merit?”

“A sack of silver coins, one that your brother was quick to claim for his own.”

Vivienne winced at his harsh tone and made to defend her brother. “Alexander did not accept coin for my hand!”

“He most certainly did.” Her lover pointed to the floor with impatience. “Your belt lies on that side of the pallet, your boots on this side. I said we had need of haste.”

Vivienne tried to discern the features hidden with his hood. “You are not a fairy suitor,” she said, though already she knew the answer.

That made him halt and she guessed that he studied her anew. “Of course not. Why would you believe such whimsy?”

Whimsy. Too late, the truth was perfectly clear. Vivienne stared at the kirtle in her hands and felt a fool beyond compare. Alexander’s tale had been no more than a ruse to persuade her to sleep in the tower. It had not been coincidence that Alexander unbarred the door last evening.

Her brother had played a jest upon her, as so oft he had done. Vivienne had been deceived, and her choice in this matter had been stolen from her. Worse, her own impulsive nature had betrayed her, for her maidenhead was lost.

Worse again, it had been lost - and she had been sold - to a man whose name she did not know.

“Alexander is a wretch beyond belief!” she declared, not troubling to disguise her anger. It was better than revealing her fear. “How dare he sell my hand? He pledged to Rhys that he would not repeat his error...”

“So we know the merit of his word,” her lover noted dryly. “There is a plague of deceit in our land, it seems.”

But Vivienne did not care what he thought of her brother. She thought of her Aunt Rosamunde, who refused to follow the dictates wrought by men, and lifted her chin in defiance.

“I will not indulge Alexander, or you, by ceding to this arrangement,” she said firmly. Her lover stilled again, as watchful and wary as a hawk on the hunt. “I was not privy to this arrangement and I will not stand by whatever terms were agreed upon.”

“What is this?”

“I will not accompany you.” Vivienne glared at the man who had seen fit to purchase her, disliking that he hid his face from her. Was he a stranger in truth, or a man who did not wish her recognize him before she abandoned herself to his protection?

“You have no choice,” he said. “Your brother has sold you like chattel, and like chattel, you have no choice when or where you go.”

Chattel? He could not have chosen a less appealing word!

“Only a fool of a woman would leave her family abode with a stranger who surrenders neither his name nor his destination, a man who does not even reveal his visage.”

When he did not move or speak to soothe her doubts, Vivienne hauled her beautiful kirtle over her head and laced the sides with savage gestures. “No matter what price you have paid, I would suggest you depart from Kinfairlie afore I summon sentries against you.”

He closed the distance between them with a decisive step and caught her chin in his hand. His touch was not forceful, despite the anger she could feel thrumming through him, and Vivienne felt a dangerous weakening of her will beneath his touch. It was too simple to recall how he had caressed her, how he had coaxed her response, how he had cajoled her participation in their lovemaking.

She realized that only that act or these words must reflect his character, not both. Tenderness and harshness could not both be his nature.

But which was the true measure of the man? Vivienne knew that lies were more readily wrought with words than with deeds, but that was a thin certainty upon which to wager her future.

“Who will aid you, now that your brother has had his due?” he demanded and there was an unappealing truth in his words. “You are mine, mine since your brother accepted my coin for his own.”

She was no possession! “I belong to no man and I never will.” Vivienne stared furiously into the shadows of his hood. “You cannot compel me to do your will in this, for there is no bond between us.”

His hand closed around her arm and he lifted her slightly off the floor. She could not miss the truth of how much larger he was than she and her confidence faltered.

“Can I not?” he murmured, seemingly aware of her uncertainty. His thumb began to move against her flesh in slow circles, and even through the ruched sleeve of her chemise, Vivienne felt a treacherous desire awaken within her.

But desire alone was not to be trusted.

“I will not make the matter simple for you,” she said. “I will not be biddable!”

“And you need not be trussed like a lamb meant for the slaughter,” he said with impatience. “It is clear that our paths lie together, and more clear that our course will be easier if you accept the truth of it.”

Vivienne pulled her arm from his grip and stepped away, distrusting the power of his touch. “Show me your face. Tell me your name.”

He stepped back then, ensuring she could not reach his hood. His determination to hide his face from her only made Vivienne more determined to see him truly.

He could cede that much to her, at least!