Desired (30 page)

“Everyone is capable of visions. It is simply a matter of developing your sixth sense. You are beginning to experience them, my love.” It was not a question. She silently acknowledged that this was true. “In the tournament you wore sable armor and jousted for Prince Edward.”

Christian’s eyes widened. Brianna was beginning to perceive that which was hidden. “You will make an apt pupil. I will teach you every nuance of lovemaking, then we will go on from there.”

Brianna swept her tongue across lips gone suddenly dry and Christian had to put an iron clamp on his rising desire.

“What of that day in the forest? Your magic made the princess’s food bitter.”

He smiled patiently and shook his head. “Not magic power, merely a magician’s trick. My mind is much stronger than hers. By the power of suggestion her food tasted bitter. It was not actually bitter. I cannot alter the very taste or smell of things—only their perception.”

“Is your mind stronger than mine?” she asked breathlessly.

“Sometimes yes, oftimes, no. If it were otherwise, you would have warmed my bed from the first night I saw you.”

Her cheeks tinted delicately and he stretched out a finger to touch the tiny black dot upon her cheekbone. “One night you turned from me in my vision and I glimpsed the twin to this witch-mark.”

Her blush deepened. “Beauty mark,” she corrected.

He shook his head. “I know you for witch, beloved.”

His words pleased her. Perhaps she was. She had assuredly
conjured his vision when she was curious about the strange object on his thigh. Brianna sat firmly upon her witch-mark, knowing it tempted him or he would not have spoken of it. Their eyes met in amusement as they discerned each other’s thoughts.

“Perhaps it is time I revealed all, as you so generously have done.”

Brianna caught her breath as he stood to remove his chausses. She stared at him in fascinated horror. The shaft of his male weapon was engorged to a great length and thickness, jutting from its sable forest. Beneath, on the inside of his thigh, stretched the black scimitar. Quietly, patiently, he allowed her to look her fill.

Finally she spoke. “Which weapon do your squires refer to as Killbride?”

He threw back his head and his deep laughter rolled out over her. “Those two devils love to amuse themselves at my expense. At Windsor the servant wenches are forever creeping into my chamber, hoping to catch a glimpse of the black obscenity between my legs.”

Brianna could not help herself. She reached out a tentative finger to touch the mysterious object. The skin was raised in a thick welt along the blade, thicker at the handle and she shuddered as she remembered the pain connected with it. “What is it?”

“It is a brand. An initiation rite before I was knighted into the Mystic Order.”

Silence stretched between them.

“Tell me,” she urged, softly.

“After the hot iron was removed, they rubbed black sand into the raw burn. Then I was left alone in the desert to survive or die.”

“The pain was unendurable,” she whispered.

“That’s how I learned to move beyond pain. The lesson was invaluable.”

Brianna avoided looking at his other weapon.

Christian’s mouth curved in understanding. “It doesn’t repel you?” he asked.

“No,” she replied quickly.

“And this?” he asked, indicating his male sex.

“I … I’m not sure. I’m ignorant of such things.”

His heart sang that it was so. “I think perhaps it is time to move beyond talking. I cannot tell you of love, I can only show you.”

B
rianna drew back as he came upon the bed full-length and stretched his swarthy limbs beside hers. “Yield to me, love.”

She hesitated for perhaps three heartbeats, then she opened her arms and offered herself to him.

Christian enfolded her in his powerful embrace and took her down to the bed. His mouth covered hers hotly, boldly and she opened to his hungry demands, allowing him to plunder her honeyed mouth. When Christian felt he would drown in need, his kiss turned sensual. He knew he must awaken Brianna’s sexuality. When his mouth elicited low moans and her body shivered with liquid tremors, he would proceed. He hoped it would take at least a hundred kisses.

The shadowed chamber was filled with the sensuous sounds of rustling bedcovers, the whisper of sleek skin against skin, the gasp and moan of mouth upon mouth, the slide of rough hands through silken hair, the vibration of hot breath upon fiery flesh. Erotic sounds, intimate sounds, love sounds.

When Brianna’s mouth was love-swollen from too many kisses, Christian’s lips traveled a slow, burning path down her throat to her breasts. The act was so private, Brianna was shocked. Christian soon melted away every vestige of reserve as he licked and gently bit, then sucked her areolas into his hungry mouth.

Brianna was amazed at the sensations she experienced, all so new, but blissful in the extreme. She felt as if threads of fire went from her breasts, down through her belly, then lower, turning her woman’s center to searing flames that threatened to consume her senses, her very reason. Slowly, surely she began to long, to lust for something. She knew
not what, but it was so compelling, she felt she would die if she did not get it.

She looked down at his dark face to watch his mouth worship her body. Her fingertips touched his lips where they were joined and she began to whisper his name over and over like a supplicant. “Christian, Christian, Christian.”

He knew she was not ready for that which she begged. Each stage of intimacy had tightened the bonds between them. Their face-to-face kisses and caresses had imprinted his powerful identity upon her, but he had put neither hand nor mouth to her woman’s center and coitus could not be enjoyed to its fullest until all the traditional foreplay had been completed.

He pressed her back, spread her glorious hair upon the pillows, and gently drew her hand to cup her breast. He took the fingers of her other hand and drew it lower toward her mons.

Her eyes followed where his hand led and she saw the red-gold curls that looked exactly like flames. Their entwined fingers touched her together. “Oooh!” she cried as if she had been burned. Christian’s manroot jumped against her thigh and she imagined it a velvet-tipped iron spear. He would render her vulnerable, she would yield, then he would conquer her with this formidable weapon! Could she bear such an assault? The answer came back yes, a million times yes! He was all man; she fervently hoped she could be all woman.

He unclasped her hand. “Place your fingertips on the back of my hand so you know what I do. If you don’t like it, you can stay my hand. If you receive pleasure, your touch will urge me to proceed.”

She was startled that he would allow her even a semblance of control and rested the pads of her fingers where he bade. His square, warm palm cupped her and he threaded his fingers through her golden curls, over and over. The sensation was almost drugging. Then he brought his broad thumb up across her pink cleft and she arched up into his hand joyously. The pressure of his thumb increased, opening the cleft to allow his thumb to breach her defenses. What he did to her felt so deliciously erotic, she
abandoned touching his hand. She wanted no control. As he had suggested earlier, she would
trust him for this loving
.

As the pads of his fingertips sought out her tiny jewel, he hung over her watching her mouth. When her lips opened with breathless desire, he took possession of her mouth and the tip of his tongue matched the slow, rhythmic caress of his fingers.

“Do you like this, Brianna?” he murmured against her lips.

“I love it,” she whispered breathlessly, allowing her thighs to fall open so he could go deeper.

Christian wanted everything from her and for her. He knew it would be all pleasure if he brought her to climax with his hand. He knew it would be pure bliss if he brought her to her first joy with his mouth, but some deep primal urge told him their bodies must be joined deeply, totally. The pleasure must be mingled with pain as nature had intended. That way they would be bonded forever.

He slowed his fingers and his tongue to draw out her arousal to its farthest limits. When she was on the edge of madness, he would take her.

She lay in a sensual, wanton sprawl, almost incoherent with need, her hair a wild, disheveled tangle. When he moved between her thighs, he hung above her allowing the head of his shaft to trace its teasing touch across her thighs and belly. As if by magic he positioned the velvet tip so that it rested upon her jewel, then he cried, “Now!”

He plunged down, sliding across her bud, slipping down her cleft, then burying himself in her, tight velvet sheath.

Brianna’s scream shattered the night. She contracted so tightly upon his long, thick phallus, it was momentarily as painful for him as it was for her.

He brushed his lips across her eyelids murmuring honeyed love words. “Beautiful … delicate … exquisite …”

He held absolutely still, allowing her to become used to the fullness that stretched her so tautly. She too held absolutely still, then they became aware that they pulsated against each other intimately. It was no more than a flutter at first, but as her body gradually accepted his bold invasion, the pulsations became heavy, strong throbs.

Brianna’s body was generous as he had known it would be and suddenly she was welcoming him in an undulating rhythm that made him think of rippling hot silk. What had been forbidden was now accomplished.

Christian felt triumphant as he began to move with potent, powerful thrusts. He wished it could last forever, but in his wisdom he knew he must not prolong it for Brianna. Too much would take her from Heaven into hell. Her liquid tremors began just as he felt his seed start. He cried out. Lord God how she made him quiver! She had been splendidly uninhibited for her first time.

He collapsed onto her, spent and satiated as never before. She smiled into the darkness, welcoming his great weight. She felt as if she had drained him of his strength and power, and his essence would remain with her forever.

As Christian Hawksblood lay upon his beloved to catch his breath, he felt himself being renewed. Vitality, strength, and power swept over him in wave after wave. The experience was similar to what he felt in battle. When the fighting ceased and the day was won, he was momentarily drained. Then the exhilaration of victory swept over him, filling him with glorious omnipotence.

He gathered her in his arms and cradled her against his heart. “Sweet … wild … temptress. You were magnificent. You came through the mystic initiation of pain and blood like a goddess. You have all of my heart, Brianna.”

She knew what had happened this night in this bed had been cataclysmic. Suddenly it was all too intense for her and softly she began to cry, bathing his heart with her tears.

In that moment, Prince Drakkar, Christian Hawksblood de Beauchamp, vowed never to hurt her again. He would protect her with his life, honor her with his body, cherish her with his heart, and love her with his soul.

In the dead of night, Brianna half-roused from a deep sleep and cried out in alarm at her unfamiliar surroundings. Christian was there to gather her in his arms and take her down in the bed, secure, tucked against his side. It was such a warm, safe haven, she fell asleep with her lips against the dark powerful column of his throat.

When she again came up through the warm veils of
sleep, she was alone in the big bed. A cry of protest escaped her lips as her hand sought the cooling sheets beside her.

“Christian.” The name she uttered brought her to full consciousness. Ah God, another erotic dream? Her body told her otherwise. Her breasts were still swollen from his mouth and between her legs ached where his fullness had stretched her more than one time.

Her cheeks burned with her blushes as her eyes fell upon the bedsheets. The spots of bright blood told their own tale of the hymenal rites he had performed upon her body. Brianna was aghast at what she had done. It was wrong! She was betrothed to another! He had lured her against her will to give him that which should have been preserved for her future husband.

She stripped the linen sheets from the bed before anyone discovered her shameful secret, and set the bundle beside the chamber door. Then she carefully bathed, firmly denying the sensual feelings the hot water evoked in her newly initiated body.

She had just finished dressing when Adele came into her chamber. “My lamb, I’m certain sure that pale peach gown is unsuitable for a visit to the stone quarry, but I understand why you wish to look ravishing.”

Brianna ignored Adele’s choice of words. “I’m not going.”

“But you promised Joan and Glynis. They’ll be that disappointed. Whatever is so important here to keep you from the excursion?”

“I … I thought I’d change the beds,” Brianna said lamely.

“Then we’ll do it together. You take the sheets to the wash house and I’ll get fresh linen from the drying cupboard. By that time Joan should be ready to go. I know she is eager for it.”

Brianna decided an argument would only attract attention to herself. Doing the work of a chambermaid was a strange enough occupation. She gathered up the sheets with their telltale evidence and stopped by Joan’s chamber where she proceeded to strip the beds.