Betrayed (28 page)

“Red John?” Krayne repeated. “This is sudden. Only last night ye wanted ta leave Wamphray.”

“As we shall. Red John wishes ta follow Duncan ta Carnsalloch.”

“Ah, I’ve not yet decided if Duncan will be going.”

“Why shouldn’t he?”

Krayne shook his head, unwilling to elaborate. “But ye have my permission ta wed Red John.”

“We’ll go anyway,” Gayle blurted, suddenly afraid that marriage would tie her down to the one place she could no longer stand to be rather than set her free. “Please dinna stop us, Krayne. I beg of ye, do this fer me, fer everything we once shared.”

“Ye want ta leave so bad?”

“Aye.” Then, knowing he’d need more, she added, “All I want is a fresh start with my new husband.”

Finally Krayne thought he understood. His involvement with Gayle was no secret and Red John would not appreciate the constant reminder. “Very well, ye and Red John may leave after the wedding.”

“I’d rather we be married at Carnsalloch.”

He was about to argue, then decided to let Gayle have her way. “I’ll send provisions with ye fer the wedding feast, ta spare Elwin the cost of cattle and wine.”

“Thank ye.”

“When were ye hoping ta leave?”

“On the morrow.”

“Then I’d best go have a word with Red John,” he said with a warm smile. Gayle had given him much pleasure and he decided then and there to add some extra gifts for the happy couple’s future.

Gayle clasped her hands at her breast and returned his smile.

At the bottom of the stairwell, Amber came alive. How long had she been standing there? Her knees were knocking so loudly, she thought they’d surely crack.

Naught has changed, Gayle. I want ye…

That was all she’d needed to hear. Her entire body felt iced inside and out. She hadn’t once been invited into his inner sanctuary, but it seemed that Gayle was a regular visitor.

Amber choked down a sob and fled down the stairs. She didn’t need to spy on her husband. She knew exactly what activities were taking place behind that closed door. She’d seen it all before.

By the time she reached the kitchen, her composure was intact, all the heartache, jealousy and despair wrapped up tightly inside the blanket of cold disdain that bound her shaky heart.

That Brayan didn’t seem to notice the grimace hidden by her smile was a relief, and she spent the next while explaining new recipes while learning a thing or two herself. Whenever a picture popped inside her head—Krayne straining over his leman’s spread-eagled legs, that dimple on the side of his buttocks lengthening and deepening with each thrust, slender fingers gripping his midnight-black hair—she tucked it inside her blanket and smiled a little wider. And felt a little colder.

When Brayan suggested they’d done enough for one day, she agreed and thanked him for his time. Her spine was so brittle, ’twas a wonder it didn’t snap as she took the few steps to the great hall.

At some point she’d have to stop and consider what to do about her wretched marriage. For now, she only knew that Krayne could rot in hell before she crumpled on her bed and cried another tear over him.

“Damn them both,” she muttered as she strode across the hall.

“Amber,” Krayne called from across the hall. “Join us.”

Her head came up to glare at the threesome by the hearth. Krayne was standing close to Gayle, and then Red John.

“Come share a glass of wine.” His lopsided grin shred her safety blanket into tiny pieces. She couldn’t bear the thought of what, or more precisely
who,
had turned the madman of this morning into this pleasantly civil being.

“I’m not thirsty,” she snapped and continued on her way.

“Then ye may share in the conversation.” He was no longer asking.

All the pain he’d caused her, from kidnapping to near rape to ungratefulness and now, finally, to infidelity, stirred the bees inside her head into a towering rage.

She’d risked her very life to rescue him and he couldn’t even spare a thank you. While Gayle…Her gaze went to the beautiful blonde at his side. Aye, Gayle had done nothing but stay at home and keep herself pretty for his return, and
she
got all the gratitude, all the rewards. What Amber got was a berserker, a foul-mouthed lout screaming at her to turn a tree into bloodied stumps.

Amber pasted a smile on her face and marched right up to the three unsuspecting souls. “You want to talk?”

“Aye,” said Krayne, “we’d enjoy yer company.”

“How positively charming,” she said, fixing a scathing glare on him. “And what a coincidence, for I’ve just the topic for such cosy company.”

“Amber…” Krayne warned.

“No, husband, don’t stop me now.” Her glare expanded to include everyone present in a chilly sweep. “I have some concerns, you see, and mayhap one of your friends—” her eyes stopped on Gayle, “—could help. My husband seems to have an aversion to virgins and I’m quite at a loss on how to proceed. His taste runs to more experienced women and once he discovered that his wife was no whore but, indeed, a maiden, he was so disgusted, he could not even consummate the marriage.”

Amber dismissed the frozen expression on Krayne’s face and went on to smile at Red John with a simpering, “Mayhap you could finish what we started and rid me of this irritating maidenhood,” then turned on Gayle, green eyes glittering, “or mayhap you’d be so kind as to teach me your tricks. I’m a fast learner. Besides, how difficult can it be to act Krayne’s whore?”

Krayne’s hand shot out to grip her arm, but Amber was too quick. With a flick of her skirts, she whirled about and marched stiffly for the stairs.

Amber was a little shocked at herself. Not that she regretted a single word. If Krayne wanted to stomp all over her, he’d just found out that she would not lie down and hurt in silence. The steel fingers that clasped her upper arms from behind were not a complete surprise.

She’d wanted to invoke a reaction.

She’d wanted to open the conversation on his detestable habits so she could blast him straight to hell.

“Ye will go back in there,” Krayne ground out close to her ear, “and apologise.”

Her spine went rigid. “Red John made no secret of his lust for me, Gayle is your leman and you, my lord, have made your disinterest in consummating this marriage quite clear. I fail to see what I should apologise for when I spoke naught but the truth.”

“I didna ask fer explanations and I dinna give a rat’s arse fer what ye perceive ta be the truth. Ye
will
apologise at once.”

“I most certainly will not.” She flinched as his fingers dug deeper.

“That was an order.” He lifted her feet off the ground and forcibly faced her in the right direction. “Ye will obey me in this.”

She caught a glimpse of the black fury locked inside his pewter eyes and wavered, then lifted her chin high with renewed determination. “Never!”

Without hesitation, he clamped one of her arms in his hand and walked. She dug her toes in, clearing a path through the rushes as she slid unceremoniously along at his side. Damn the man and damn his strength. “You can walk me there, but you’ll have to talk for me as well.”

“Christ.” He promptly changed direction for the nearest trestle table.

Before she realised his intent, he sat down on a bench and pulled her across his lap. Her heart pounded red anger as she found herself staring at the floor. He wouldn’t dare. Bracing her hands on his thigh, she started to raise her head, and met Gayle’s mortified expression.

Passion’s teeth.
She kicked out wildly. “Krayne, don’t. Let me up and I’ll apologise.”

How could he do this? In front of her?

Krayne’s jaw tightened at the plea that came too late, but he had no taste for disciplining his wife. He set Amber on her feet and stood, watching in grim silence as she swept her head up in a show of dignity and made her apologies to Gayle and Red John.

Her apology was adequate, if not heartfelt, and he felt a grin struggle through his mood at her inflated pride.

He wiped the grin as she spun about and strode toward the stairs.

“Amber,” he called.

She glanced over her shoulder.

“Await me in my chamber,” he said sternly. “I’ve not finished with ye yet.”

Amber stood by the opening onto the ramparts and stared up at the vivid blue skies. It didn’t seem fair that the day out there could be so gloriously unaware of the gloom darkening her heart. The clouds should be black and thunderous, spitting out torrential rain and lashing down lightning on this barbaric, detestable land.

She turned from the perfect summer afternoon and marched to the bed. How long did Krayne intend to make her wait? How could she possibly face him again? How could she face anyone? He’d tossed her over his knee right there in the great hall, in front of his leman, and in that moment the damage had been done.

The door to the outer chamber slammed shut. She took a deep breath, raised her chin up high, and ran her hands down her bodice before clasping them firmly in front of her.

When Krayne came through the archway, she had a defiant glare ready. Not that he noticed. Resting a hip against the wall inside the arch, he folded his arms and tilted his head as he looked her over, top to toe. His hair was damp, she noted, hanging loose to those broad shoulders. The only sign betraying his expressionless face was the glint of silver in his eyes, hot and menacing.

“Well?” she drawled. “If you’ve come to finish what you started, I suggest you get it over with before we both perish of boredom.”

He came a step forward. “If you insist.”

“Don’t.” Amber jumped back nervously, cursing her rash temper. “Have you not humiliated me enough?”

“Ye’ll do well ta remember the feeling next time ye set out ta humiliate others.”

“I spoke only the truth,” she flung at him.

“Gayle and Red John have naught ta do with yer ire at me.” Krayne raised a warning finger when she attempted to interrupt. “I dinna care ta hear ye justify yer actions.”

He walked around her to sit on the edge of the bed and removed his boots. “I asked ye to join us this afternoon in the celebration of Gayle and Red John’s betrothal. They depart fer Carnsalloch on the morrow and we’re invited ta their nuptials in a fortnight.”

Amber paled as his words took hold in her mind. “I didn’t know.”

He glanced up sharply. “That is no excuse.”

Her fury stirred again. At least she had not bedded the bride-to-be in one breath and toasted her betrothal in the next. “Do you deny your affair with Gayle? Will you at least admit that your marriage bed is cold and empty because you have your leman to run to whenever the need arises?”

“Enough!”

“You cannot, can you? You cannot look me in the eye and swear that you didn’t lie with her.”

“Gayle is none of yer business, Amber.”

“Fine,” she huffed, fisting her hands at her hips. “Then I’ll just take a dozen lovers, shall I? And declare it none of
your
business.”

Krayne pushed to his feet and tugged at the leather ribbon binding his shirt with clumsy fingers. The problem was, he didn’t entirely believe that she wouldn’t do just that. He’d just returned from cooling his temper in the river; he shouldn’t have bothered. “Do that, wife, and I’ll have ye publicly stripped and flogged in the bailey.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Ye have my solemn word,” he assured her, lying to the both of them. Tugging his shirt free, he pulled it from his britches and over his head, then tossed it into a corner.

“W-what are you doing?” Amber had been too preoccupied with the argument to notice him removing his boots, but the display of sun-bronzed skin and ridges of muscle that flexed with his movements had her rapt attention.

“Correcting the oversight ye so thoughtfully pointed out.” His fingers worked the ties of his britches. “Apparently I’ve been remiss in my husbandly duties and intend ta set that right at once.”

His britches dropped, and there her husband stood in all his splendid nakedness. Even as the familiar longing warmed her blood, she was choking on her dismay. This could not be happening now. Not after the way he’d just humiliated her.

“I will not chase ye around the room again, Amber.” The silver gaze commanded her to him.

“Krayne, please…” Suddenly she was not above begging. “Do not mar our first time with this memory.”

“We’ve had more first times than I care ta count,” Krayne scoffed at her plea. “I intend ta make this our last. Now come ta me.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Ye would deny yer husband?”

“No.” She swallowed with difficulty and lowered her gaze. “Could we not wait for nightfall? ’Tis indecent to…to do this in light of day.”

“I dinna care if it’s morning, noon or sundown. I will be done with this infernal bedding once and fer all.”

Like some unpleasant chore to be got out of the way. Her shoulders went back and her eyes blazed. Very well, at least they were of like mind. She would not go to him, however. And she would not respond. Once he’d finished consummating this marriage, he’d be in no doubt that his limp wife had not felt a thing.

Krayne noted the return of her fiery temper with blessed relief. He’d take a hellion over a weeping willow any day. He crossed to where she waited, her small hands tightly balled, her stubborn chin rising a notch for every step he advanced. As he drew closer, he saw that her entire body was trembling.

He brushed his knuckles tenderly underside her chin and said softly, “Ye have naught ta fear, Amber. This is no punishment.”

She jerked her chin away. “I beg leave to doubt that.”

“I made ye beg once before,” he reminded her, thinking to reassure her that he had only pleasure in mind.

She said nothing.

He deftly loosened her gown at the sides and pushed the bodice from her shoulders with fingers that were not quite steady. His body reacted instantly to the picture she made in naught but her pristine shift. God above, but his wife was the most beautiful creature ever to grace this earth. The hint of cleavage, the swell of her breasts, the narrow plunge to slim hips and those endlessly long legs.

To gain some control, he brought his gaze back up and said hoarsely, “Amber, look at me.”

Amber whipped her head back to glare at him and stepped away. She was plain furious and eager to get this sordid business done with. With one swift movement, she yanked her shift over her head and tossed it aside. As bared as she was, as vulnerable as she felt, she knew that her eyes gave him only cold disdain. “I hate you.”

“Of course ye do.” He followed that irritating response with a slow, appreciating gaze that lingered on her breasts, then at the juncture of her thighs.

Resisting the urge to cover herself, she waited until he’d looked his fill and then deigned to meet her eyes again. “Well, do what must be done, before—”

“—we both perish of boredom,” he finished with a rumbling chuckle, pulling her into his arms and crushing her against his hard body. “Christ, sweeting,” he groaned into her hair, “ye have no idea what ye do ta me.”

She opened her mouth to spew a few things she might well like to do to him right now, but her throat closed down to the raw heat infecting her blood and about as welcome as the black plague.

She did not want this.

She would not give him this satisfaction of melting.

The hair on his chest scratched her sensitised breasts. His potent masculinity demanded attention from every point of contact.

His hands slid down her sides, then to her back and lower to caress her buttocks, squeezing as he ground his loins against her. A pleasure cry leapt to her compressed lips and pushed through.

His arms tightened, then lifted her, dragging friction between bodies already overheated as he carried her to the bed and lay her on her back.

“If you do this,” she swore, “I’ll hate you forever.”

Krayne came over her on all fours, his distended member grazing her soft belly as he brought his head down. “Forever is a verra long time.”

His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that silenced her retort. His lips were hard, like the rest of him, and as dominant, forcing her open and demanding that she accept him. Her tongue met his with a clash, but the devil set about stroking her fight into passion. His palm cupped her breast while his thumb teased her nipple, enticing a groan that betrayed her desire.

After what felt like a lifetime, he pulled free from her mouth. “Yer lips were made fer kissing, my beauty. I’ll never taste my fill.”

If her gaze was anything like the rest of her body, she knew it would not be cold. Still, she met his bold stare with as much challenge as she could. The harsh lines of his face were softened by the dimple at his grin and the warm shades of grey that gave depth to his eyes.

“So beautiful,” he murmured. “If ye weren’t so wet fer me, I’d mistake ye fer one of God’s own angels.”

Appalled at the reminder of her traitorous body, she said, “If you weren’t so pathetically mortal, I’d mistake you for the devil.”

His response was to grin broadly and slide down her body. His mouth closed over her breast, sucking gently while his tongue lapped her nipple. She clamped her lips to prevent a moan of pleasure, then gave up as his fingers went between her legs, quickly finding the hidden nub and massaging it into a swollen pulse. Flames spread from her inner centre to grip her body in a wave of aching need.

He came up at that, resting over her on his elbows, his eyes dark and sombre. “Next time, my sweet. I canna hold out much longer and yer ready enough.”

She looked into his eyes and saw the urgent heat lurking in the pewter depths. Desire shaped his jaw into stone and his entire body was primed like a wolf about to leap.

His shaft prodded her hot core and she was at once apprehensive. For all the fire in her blood, she’d never had a man inside her. Her thighs tensed as she tried to close him out.

“Open fer me, lass,” he groaned.

“Don’t hurt me.”

That simple request called forth a restraint Krayne would never have thought himself capable of. He wanted her. He wanted her so desperately, the throb in his shaft seemed to shudder all the way through to his heart. He wanted to dig his fingers underside those taut bums and haul her up and onto him, hard and deep, and pound the throb away.

And yet, holding her gaze as he dipped the tip of his shaft into her velvet heat, Krayne knew he had the strength and control to introduce his wife to this intimate pleasure with tenderness and care. He slid in a little deeper, and deeper, marvelling at the slick tightness he pushed through, until he was up against her maidenhead. He stilled his thrusting, giving her time to adjust while he captured a nipple loosely between his teeth.

Encouraged by her soft moans, he moved his fingers through her hair, cupping behind her head as he kissed his way over the swell of breast and up her throat. She arched into him, all that satin softness, hard nipples and delicious breasts pressed against his hot skin, as if she couldn’t get enough.

He found her lips and plunged inside with his tongue, over and over, tasting, exploring. One hand still holding her head for his kiss, his other came down her side and beneath her arched back, to the tempting swell of buttocks. His hand went lower, cupped one bottom cheek, moulding the exquisite firmness to his palm and keeping her in place as he paused on the crest of thrusting.

God’s teeth, he wished he had more experience in taking a maidenhead.

“Steady now,” he murmured on her lips, then covered her mouth with a deep kiss. He thrust swift and deep, breaching her barrier and touching the entrance to her womb in one movement as he swallowed her scream into him, coming undone as she tensed rigid.

He’d done it all wrong.

He pulled out of the kiss to look at her face, and cursed himself to hell at the shock in those green eyes filled with their own curses.

“Amber…” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Forgive me, sweeting.”

He began to move inside her, unable not to, all that strength and control he’d relied on swept away in thrust upon thrust of exploding heat. “Amber, darling, I canna stop. Forgive me, my sweet wildcat.”

The love words released a smouldering burn in Amber that absorbed the fleeting pain of being torn apart. Her limbs relaxed and all at once she was only aware of Krayne inside her, filling her all the way to her womb, stroking exotic flames that arched her body off the bed in a wave of white-hot pleasure. His jaw contorted, as if in agony, the silver in his eyes as heated and glinted as she’d ever seen. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as her own desire turned fierce and demanding to match his.

She was being driven up that sheer cliff again, reaching the top, knowing with every fibre of her being that she’d shatter into a thousand pieces at the apex, fearing it, wanting it, needing it…

The spasm convulsing around his shaft pushed Krayne over the edge. As he thrust one final time, his seed spurted into the opening of her womb and he rode his peak through the brilliant light, the starry shards, and into the blackness. He remained perfectly still, feeling her throb around him, listening to her purring groans and knew he’d just had his first taste of heaven.

When she at last relaxed around him, he rolled off her to prop himself on an elbow at her side. Her eyes were closed, her face flushed in the aftermath, her breathing still quick and deep.

He couldn’t get enough.

Already he missed her tight, hot sheath.

His hand went to her breast, fondling, his fingers playing with her nipple as he waited for her eyes to open. Was she still angry with him? In the end she’d yielded, but would she forgive him for taking her will as well as her body? He knew without a doubt that his little wildcat would come back clawing.

Something close to pride swelled his heart, and left it bruised with tender longing.

Her eyes open, glazed with lingering passion. Her lips, plush and swollen from his kisses, twisted into not quite a smile. She turned her head to look at him, and she looked and looked.

Krayne felt at once vulnerable. She was furious. She’d make him pay one way or another.

“Ye promised ye’d never run from me again,” he said sternly as the sudden fear cut through his gut.

After a maddening pause, she turned her cheek on the pillow to stare away from him. “You’re a hard man, Krayne.”