Great Protector (47 page)

He
continued to watch her as he approached, focused on her flowing hair and
fabulous figure.  Richmond was half-way to the campfire when a piercing howl
filled the air. Loud and mournful and completely horrifying, he came to an
unsteady halt, returning his attention to the direction from whence he had
come. It took him little time to deduce that Gavan was expending his grief.

The
entire festive camp came to a grinding halt at the sound of the sorrowful
groan. The harrowing cry echoed off the trees, filling the December sky with sounds
of pain. Upon the heels of the first shout was another, and still another. In
rapid succession, cries of pure agony filled the air until they slowly died
away.

As
the bonfires died during the progression of the night, Gavan's grief maintained
its searing intensity, hot enough to ignite a hundred bonfires. On his knees in
the midst of the damp, moldering forest, he wondered if a man could survive the
torrents of grief and sorrow that threatened to drown him. He wondered if there
was a life after Kathryn. He wondered if he was at all interested in living it.

***

Arissa
was sobbing when Richmond directed her into the tent he had pitched for them
both. Gavan was still in the trees, dealing with his consuming grief and
Richmond found himself comforting two very distraught young ladies. Since it
was only natural that the women be concerned for Gavan's mental state, as he
had taken to howling like a wolf, Richmond had taken it upon himself to inform
them of Kathryn's demise. Sorrow-stricken, Arissa and Emma had sobbed into each
other's arms before Richmond separated them, gently demanding they retire for
the night.

But
it was a grief not easily forgotten. Although Arissa wept for the lovely woman
with light brown hair and beautiful blue-green eyes, Emma wept for an entirely
different reason; she had wished this misery upon Gavan with her shameless
pursuit and wicked thoughts. How often had she prayed for Kathryn's
non-existence, as if being rid of the woman would allow the reality of her
dreams. As if the dashingly handsome knight would pay her any mind without the hindrance
of his beautiful wife.

She
had brought his misery upon him, for that she was certain. Her stomach churned
and her head swam to think that he would blame her for his wife's death,
wishing her away with evil prayers.  Surely, he would never love her now. Not
when he realized what she had done.

Emma
continued to weep pitifully for the pain she had caused her dearest love even
as Richmond gently directed her to her small tent. Practically forcing her down
on the furs and tucking the covers about her, Emma could do naught to thank
Richmond for his kindness. Her heart, her soul, her spirit, was lodged with the
great man on his knees in the middle of the forest, vomiting emotions so strong
they threatened to tear him apart.

After
settling Emma for the night, Richmond retired to his own tent to find Arissa
still weeping with sorrow. Forcing her to drink a large cup of wine, he managed
to calm her somewhat with a combination of tender manner and relaxing alcohol.
Stripping off her garments as she stood unsteadily in the center of their tent,
he swept her into the warm furs of their bed.

Enfolded
in Richmond's naked embrace, the wine filled Arissa's veins, making her sleepy
and languid. Gradually forcing herself to come to terms with Gavan's pain, she
was aware of her own repressed anguish. She and Richmond were spending their
last night together for some time to come and she was distressed at the fact
that she had been distracted with another's grief. Certainly, she was facing
grief of her own.

Brushing
the stray hair from her face, she lifted her eyes to find blue eyes gazing at
her. She smiled bravely. "So we arrive at Whitby come the morrow, do we? I
do not think I am ready. I have more places to visit, more money to
squander."

He
returned her smile, adding a weak chuckle as he kissed the tip of her nose.
"We have already been overlong on this journey. Besides, I do not have any
more money. You have wasted it all on currant buns and fancy trinkets."

Her
expression was indignant. "How dare you accuse me of devastating your
financial resources. If that is the case, then I do believe I shall marry
someone else. I shall not be saddled with a poor knight who cannot maintain my
living habits."

"Please,
please," he shushed her softly, with humor. "I must take you to
Whitby in order to secure enough time to regain my lost wealth. Mayhap a length
of time spent with the nuns will cool your expensive habits."

She
cocked an eyebrow. "As I recall, the only habits I shall be wearing will
be those made of coarse gray wool. Dreadful, really. Coarse wool always gives
me a rash on my bum."

They
giggled together for a moment as he stroked her face, her hair, memorizing
every feature to sustain him in the days and weeks they would be separated. He
struggled to suppress the anguish that threatened to burst like an over-filled
dam, knowing that once the tide burst forth there would be no stopping his
agony. Although Gavan's grief was no less important, he found himself focused
on his own sorrow at the moment. The longer he gazed into her eyes, the harder
it was for him to maintain his composure. God's Teeth, it was killing him
already.

"The
rash will fade against the silk of your wedding surcoat," his humor faded
as he cupped her beautiful face in his great hands. "I saw a wedding surcoat
of ivory silk, once. It was the most beautiful surcoat I had ever seen. I do
believe I shall commission one made for you while I am in London."

"Ivory
silk is terribly expensive," Arissa returned softly. "You said not a
moment ago that your coffers were drained."

"Then
I shall steal the money," his hands began to quiver as he kissed her
tenderly, savoring her.  A gentle kiss proved to be the final blow against the
barrier of Richmond's thinly-held control; he heard Arissa gasp as his mouth
descended on her with aching force, suckling the life from her. Small white
hands wound themselves within the rich brown strands of his hair, clutching his
scalp with sharp nails, and he pulled her more closely against him than he ever
had before.

He
was not going to elongate their passion; he intended to make love to her all
night and he was determined to start immediately. His hot lips moved from her
mouth to her delicious torso, taking in a rosy nipple and sucking fiercely. He
wanted her instantly hot, ready for his demanding entry. Moreover, it would
make it easier to insert the pessary without her knowledge if she was as slick
as rain and eager for his touch.

Secretly,
his hand slipped between the folds of the furs behind him. Fingering the small
pebble containing the ingredients that would mayhap preserve Arissa's life, his
left hand moved to the curve of her torso, trailing to the dark thatch of hair
between her legs. Stroking her gently with his long middle finger as he pinched
the pessary between his thumb and forefinger, he growled seductively when she
pressed against him in eager anticipation.

Arissa
was already wet for him, begging for his heated member, and he groaned again
when she wrapped her thighs about his hips urgently. Inserting his middle
finger into her tight passage, he thrust long and hard, listening to her gasps
of pleasure. When her hips began to gyrate in a frenzied manner, he quickly
removed his finger and placed the pessary at her searing threshold. Just as he
moved to insert it as far as it could go, Arissa suddenly stopped her delirium.

"What
is that? What are you doing?" she demanded, her face flushed with passion
and her green eyes wide.

He
moved to kiss her, anything to distract her from his covert purpose.
"Nothing, kitten. Come to me now."

She
averted her lips, moving away from him so that she could see what he had been
attempting to lodge within her. She had felt the slightly coarse composition of
the little pessel, far different from Richmond's smooth skin texture, and had
immediately suspected what he was planning.

Her
eyes narrowed when she saw the dark pessary Richmond had been unsuccessful in
delivering and she pulled away from him sharply, her expression accusing.
"I told you that I would not use those.... those things. You must have a
dozen sons, Richmond, and I shall not use Mossy's silly concoction!"

He
sighed heavily, aware that he had been caught in his deceit. But his motives
had been true and he hastened to defend himself. "Riss, you cannot
conceive a child. I do not want to end up like Gavan Hage, mourning the death
of my wife in childbirth," his massive hand cupped her beautiful face, his
eyes suddenly filled with tremendous pain. "Mossy was correct when he
speculated that I would consider your life over the desire for an heir. You are
my world, Riss, and I shall do anything in my power to keep you safe."

She
stared at him, struggling between her rage and her understanding of his fear.
But a powerful, motherly urge to fight against the unnatural prevention of a
life that was meant to be consumed her, the need to provide Richmond with his
legacy a most powerful force.

As
much as she sympathized with his terror of losing her in childbirth, the desire
to bear him a worthy son far outweighed her own natural fear. As much as she
wanted to live a long existence with Richmond by her side, she would gladly
relinquish her life if she could grant the man she loved the gift of
immorality. A son to carry his name.

She
knew if she became angry with him, refusing to use his pessaries, he would most
likely not make love to her this night out of anxiety and stubbornness. And she
was desperate to touch him, to be touched, to experience their love again and
again. She did not want to delay their ecstasy with a silly quarrel.

Richmond
suddenly found himself underneath a writhing little body, supple and warm and
wonderful. Arissa's full breasts grazed his chest and shoulders as she pressed
herself against him tightly.

"Make
love to me, Richmond," she rasped into his ear, her hot breath driving
bolts of erotic passion through his big body. "Make love to me all
night."

She
was dangerously close to distracting him from the issue at hand. He put up his
hands, attempting to dislodge her somewhat, but she simply wrapped her arms
about his neck tightly and refused to let go. Straddling his flat abdomen, she
ground her pelvis against him and he could feel her wet heat dampening his
flesh.

"Riss...,"
he grunted, fighting both her and himself.

"
Now,
Richmond. Take me now."

"Do
not do this. You must listen to reason, kitten. You must not conceive...."

Her
ripe lips fastened to his neck, alternately suckling his skin and stroking it
with her tongue. He opened his mouth in a last attempt to lodge a stern protest
when her delicious mouth descended upon him, kissing the very life from his
bones. The feeble objections died in his throat.

The
pessary fell to the ground as his big hands lost themselves in the silken web
of her hair, gripping it so tightly that he nearly pulled it from her scalp.
Arissa whimpered in response to his demanding onslaught, fierce and powerful as
he turned her onto her back. Trapped beneath his big body, she gasped with
desire as his tongue invaded the honeyed recesses of her mouth, devouring her
until there was nothing left to give.

His
mouth left her lips, moving to the rosy-tipped breasts he took such delight in.
Firm and full and delightfully soft, he lost himself within the mounds of flesh
as Arissa cradled his head, encouraging him to suckle her harder, faster,
better than before. He answered her pleas with silent obedience, suckling and
licking until the moist heat between her legs became raging. She parted her
legs for him, grasping at his buttocks in an attempt to direct him toward her
searing target. But he pulled away from her, gently, as his mouth moved to her
naked belly, trailing to the curve of her torso in lingering delight.

Arissa
groaned when he rolled her onto her stomach, his mouth moving to consume her
delectable backside. She could feel his teeth on the swell of her buttocks,
nipping at her, licking her. He moved down the back of her thighs, worshipping
every inch of her silken flesh as she thrashed and twisted beneath him. Just
when she was sure she could stand no more of his attentions, anxious to feel
his manhood fill her, he grasped her hips and pulled her to her knees.

Buttocks
in the air as her nipples grazed the furs, she turned to look at him through
the wild web of black hair that covered her. "What are you doing?"
she rasped.

He
smiled wolfishly, running his hands down her smooth buttocks, moving to grasp
her thighs. Pulling them apart slightly, she was aware of his throbbing erection
pressing against her from behind. Without a word, he thrust deep, driving into
her, sliding his full hard length until he was completely sheathed within her
tight little body.

The
ease of his entry into her slippery passage fed his lust like nothing he had
ever experienced, and he did not afford Arissa a chance to adjust to the new
position before he was driving into her with unearthly force.

In
the grip of passion, Arissa cried and gasped, biting off her screams as his
pulsing shaft created a scalding friction deep within her loins. The harder he
pushed, the harder she wanted him to push. She began to work with him, meeting
his rocket thrusts, grunting with pleasure each time their bodies collided. A
faint sheen of perspiration coated their bodies in response to the physical
demonstration of their love.