Authors: Bertrice Small
“Do not lose your skills,” Ilona warned. “Practice each day with both Andraste and Verica. Until your belly swells ride Dasras regularly so his skills, too, may remain sharp. Remember this is but a respite for you, Lara. When you are finally called you must be ready. I am here for you. Kaliq and the Shadow Princes, also. Do not hesitate to seek our advice when you need it.”
Outside the large windows of the Coastal King’s banqueting hall, the creamy yellow moon of the province was shining down on the waters of the sea. Inside the feasting continued until very late, and then the guests were shown to their chambers. The bedchamber where Lara and Vartan would sleep was luxurious, and yet deceptively simple in its elegance. A great round window gave them a view of the sea. A bed draped in diaphanous curtains of turquoise silk awaited them. Before the fireplace opposite the window was a large bathing tub filled with hot water, and scented with freesia.
“I’ll smell like a girl,” Vartan protested as his wife began to slowly remove his clothing.
“You’ll smell delicious,” she teased him as she unbuttoned the horn buttons on his leather vest, and laid it aside. Her supple fingers undid the laces of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, her palms smoothing over his broad smooth chest. “Just like a flower, and I’ll be a little bumblebee coming to gather your honey.” Lara stood on her toes, and whispered, “Buzz, buzz,” in his ear. Then she pulled the shirt completely off.
“Wife!” he said.
“Husband?” she countered as she unfastened his leather trousers, pushing them over his slender hips, her hands now moving to caress his taut buttocks as she pressed herself against him seductively.
Vartan grinned. He could not remember Lara ever seducing him in so bold a manner, and quite frankly he liked it. Reaching out he unfastened her gown, letting it fall to the floor. Then he lifted her from the pile of soft fabric.
Her hands reached out to fondle him. She raised her head up to gaze into his eyes, and he kissed her softly at first, and then as his arms closed about her, and her arms slipped up about his neck, their kisses became fiery, demanding, one blending into another until they were weak with passion. They fell upon the bed, bodies intertwined, and she caught his face between her hands. “Tonight, husband, we make a child,” Lara told him, a small smile upon her lips.
“Faerie women only give children to those they love,” he groaned, and began the thrusting rhythm that would eventually lead to their mutual satisfaction.
“Yes!” she told him.
“Say it!” he demanded of her, his loins afire with his hunger for her. “Say it!”
She laughed. “Say what?” she teased him as she wrapped her legs about his torso.
He thrust harder and harder, his manroot seeming to swell more as he pushed himself deep into the soft hot morass of her sex. “Say it!” he groaned through gritted teeth. “Say that you love me, you faerie witch.”
“I love you,” Lara told him, and then the world exploded around them and in them as their pleasure reached its first heights. “I love you!” she told him as it peaked a second and final time. And then as they lay together sated, she said it a third time. “I love you, Vartan of the Fiacre, and I always will, no matter where my destiny takes me. But for now I am yours alone.”
“For now?” He was instantly alert.
“Because I love you does not mean I can deny my destiny when it is time,” Lara said quietly. “I have never hidden this from you, Vartan. I know you have hoped, but while my time is not yet, the day will come when I must leave you to fulfill that destiny.” She kissed his mouth tenderly. “We must take what we can, and while we can, my love.”
“How can you be so brave when my heart is breaking at the thought of ever losing you? You are my life,” he said to her.
“You will never lose me, Vartan. I may go away, but I will always love you,” Lara told him. “Do not think of that distant tomorrow, my lord and my love. Think of the here and now. Think of the life we are meant to share, of the child I will bear you from this love that has grown between us.”
He sighed. It was a deep, almost painful sound. “We have time?” he asked her. “You are certain we have time?”
“So my mother says, and I would never dispute the word of a faerie queen,” Lara told him.
A small smile crept over his face. “Then, wife,” Vartan told her, “we had best make the most of that time.” And his arms wrapped about her, and his mouth found hers, and Lara wished that their time together would go on forever even though she knew better. Could happiness slow time? She didn’t know. But she could hope.
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ISBN: 9781459219083
Copyright © 2005 by Bertrice Small
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