Sharon Schulze (20 page)

She felt compelled to move faster, to hurtle toward the bright glow of pleasure she sensed glimmering just beyond her reach, but Padrig would not allow her to hasten the pace of their loving.

She leaned down to kiss him, echoing his leisurely pace with the unhurried slide of her tongue along his, the duel of their mouths building on the excitement of their bodies moving together.

Despite the urge to let her eyes drift closed, she kept them open as they kissed, her gaze on Padrig’s face. The tension gripping his body was reflected there, his features drawn taut with passion, a flush riding high along his cheekbones, his gaze heated, intense.

Her own desire grew apace, making her frantic for more—of what, she wasn’t certain, but she could sense ’twas almost within her grasp.

Short of breath, she eased her mouth from his, breathing deeply.

Padrig gave her but a moment to catch her breath. In a swift movement, he shifted her hands to his shoulders. Wrapping one arm about her back, he raised the other to burrow his fingers into her hair. Cupping her head in his hand, he deepened the kiss, his body driving into hers in a quickening rhythm.

The elusive pinnacle she sought suddenly loomed before her with frightening intensity. Her nails biting into Padrig’s shoulders, she tried to ease away from him, but he would have none of it. He broke off the kiss, held her
still with arms that trembled. “Nay, love.” He leaned down and stroked his tongue over one nipple, sending a lightning bolt of fire streaking through her. “Almost there, Alys,” he gasped. “Come with me. Be mine.”

When she lowered herself upon him and began to move again, the yearning in his expression hurled her body beyond her control.

Her heart pounding wildly, her mind awhirl, Alys stared into Padrig’s eyes and gave herself into his keeping, body and soul.

Pleasure overwhelmed her, sending her into a realm where she was aware of nothing but Padrig and what he made her feel. Her body curled round him, she held tight to him as he joined her in ecstasy.

A
lys returned to her senses slowly, aware of little beyond what she could see and hear without raising her head from Padrig’s chest. Her world had shrunk to Padrig’s face, the sound of his heart beating steadily beneath her ear, the warm smooth feel of the water shifting over her sensitized flesh.

Padrig remained joined with her, his hands shifting in a soothing caress over her back and neck. He’d slumped back against the edge of the pool. He wore her draped over him, her body sprawled atop him like a blanket.

She’d strength enough to press her lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling against the prickly whiskers with her cheek before nipping lightly at his throat.

“I wanted to do that before,” she said with a quiet laugh, not quite certain she wanted him to hear.

He drew his head back so he could see her face, which felt as though it had gone scarlet as soon as the words had left her mouth. “You should have,” he said. He grinned, his eyes merry. “I’d not have minded.”

“I’ll remember that,” she warned him, emboldened by his reaction. She raised herself up on his chest, looking at his face, his expression with eyes newly opened by passion.

The mere sight of him had always had the power to stir her, but now when she looked at him, she saw so much more than a strong, handsome knight. Padrig could be serious, tender, amusing…

He quirked an eyebrow at her as she continued her scrutiny. “Have I grown an extra nose?” he asked. “Or a third eye, perchance?”

“That would be different.” Most likely he looked no different to anyone but herself, she realized, ’twas just that she viewed him now with a lover’s awareness. She stroked her palm over his cheek, trailed her fingers across his full lips, marveling yet again at their softness. “But no, you’ve not grown any extra appendages.”

“That’s good,” he said, chuckling. “It’s all I can do to keep up with the ones I’ve got.” He cupped his hands about her backside and pressed her more firmly against him. Her breath caught as she felt his manhood begin to swell within her. “Some need more attention than others,” he added. Catching her lower lip in his teeth, then soothing the spot with his tongue, he straightened, drawing her up with him. “Very demanding.” He kissed her, his arms wrapping around her firmly. In a deft move, he withdrew from her and flipped them about so that ’twas she who sat propped against the rim of the pool.

Breaking off the kiss, he knelt beside her. “Unfortunately we’d better get out of here if we don’t want to be lame tomorrow,” he said. “The warmth is good for aches and pains, but wrapping ourselves into knots, no mat
ter that it feels wonderful at the time—” he grinned “—will not serve us well later on.”

He gathered her hair in his hands and squeezed the water from it. “We’ve no soap, milady, but I could still help you bathe,” he offered.

’Twas a tempting notion, yet she knew where that would lead. “If you want us to get out of this water anytime soon, ’twould be best if we wash ourselves,” she told him regretfully. She smiled mischievously. “Besides, we ought to be well rinsed by now, we moved about so much in the water.”

“You make a fine washerwoman,” he said. “Very thorough.” Unmindful of his nudity, he climbed from the pool and reached down to assist her. “Much more beautiful than any laundress I’ve ever encountered.” He lifted her easily from the water. “So very lovely,” he added, gathering her into his arms and cradling her against his body.

Scarcely allowing her to pause for breath, Padrig kissed Alys, at the same time carrying her to the blanket he’d left ready near the now-dwindling fire. He eased her down onto it and stretched out alongside her.

She felt freer now to explore his body, to be more bold in her caresses. It gave her such a feeling of power, to make this strong man tremble from her kisses, to have him want her as she wanted him.

She’d thought his body wondrous when she’d seen him by the pond, streaming water and glistening in the early morning sun.

That was but an introduction, however, compared to this. He lay on his back on the blanket, his head propped on one arm, one leg bent at the knee. Shimmering droplets of water clung to his skin and hair, while the strength of his muscular body was limned by firelight.

Alys knelt beside him, not as comfortable in her nudity as he appeared to be with his. Yet she’d no intention of hiding herself away in the enveloping layers of her clothes, not while there was the possibility she and Padrig would make love again this night. However, she’d not yet become so bold as to sprawl before him in all her glory, either.

Letting her hair fall forward to veil her body seemed a reasonable compromise.

She ran her hands from Padrig’s face to his feet, slowly touching him everywhere in between, until he caught her hands in his and tugged her down beside him. Rolling her beneath him, he proceeded to share with her the next lesson in lovemaking.

Afterward she lay snuggled to Padrig’s side, her body sated with loving, her heart humming with the joy he’d given her, and prayed that they be given the chance to be together beyond this night.

A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and rolled slowly across her cheek.

For if they could not, now that she knew what she might have had, she’d just condemned herself to a most lonely life indeed.

Padrig woke with a start, uncertain for a moment where he was. He blinked, bringing the dimly lit cavern into focus, feeling the soft warmth of the woman nestled to his side.

The fire had burned down to coals, and all but one torch had died. It must be nearly dawn now, time, unfortunately, to bring this interlude to an end and return to the harsh reality of the world beyond these caverns.

Memories came rushing into his mind. Of Alys,
naked in the pool with him, her warm and welcoming body joined with his in pleasure. Later, holding her after they’d loved again, feeling the weight of her silent tears trickling onto his chest and being too cowardly to ask why she cried.

He could think of too many reasons for her to be upset, and not nearly enough why they might have been tears of joy.

They should have talked after they’d made love, or more likely, they ought to have done so before. There were so many things they’d never discussed, important details of their lives that they had surely affected by their actions.

How could they pick up their lives as though nothing had changed?

He knew he could not. Mayhap nothing would change outwardly, though that seemed unlikely, but the man he was inside would be different for having known Alys, for having loved her.

He closed his eyes at the impact of the word. Aye, he’d loved her—physically made love to her,
with
her—but he greatly feared ’twas more than a simple physical attraction that drew him to her.

In the past when he’d wanted a woman, the desire to be with her had always disappeared once they’d coupled.

With Alys, the more time he spent in her presence, the more he shared with her, knew her in every sense of the word, the more he wanted of all of it.

If he’d not been holding her in his arms now, feeling the comfort, the sanity, she brought him, with the way this journey had fallen to pieces he’d have been ready to go out to pound someone into the ground.

He closed his eyes, then opened them to stare down at her lovely face.

Jesu, what had he done?

He’d taken what wasn’t meant for him to have, forged ties he had no way to maintain, made unspoken promises he could not honor.

To his shame, he didn’t regret a moment of it.

For himself, he didn’t care.

His only regret would be if he caused Alys pain.

Padrig had lain there as long as he dared, watching Alys as she slept, but he knew it must nearly be sunup, and they could not linger here once there was light enough to travel.

She slept deeply, the past days’ exhaustion taking its toll, no doubt. Deciding to let her rest until ’twas almost time to leave, he slipped out of her arms, stirred the fire to life and dressed.

He felt battered and weary from head to toe. Two nights with little rest, and plenty of activity in between, had a way of draining the life out of a man, he thought wryly.

Nonetheless, he’d not have traded the night with Alys for a few hours’ sleep under any circumstances.

He carefully tugged the blanket round her and crept from the cavern without touching her, not daring to so much as kiss her cheek lest he be tempted to abandon what little sense he had left, and stay with her. Ignoring his duty, however, was so foreign to him that he could not take a chance. Better to remove himself from temptation, and get to work putting things right.

Judging from what he could see of the sky, there was still a while left before dawn. Despite the hour, however, Dickon was already up and wide awake when Padrig entered the large cavern. Rafe and the boy sat by the fire, Dickon chattering away between bites of an apple while
Rafe, sitting propped against the wall, appeared ready to stuff the fruit into the lad’s mouth to silence him.

The boy hopped up, a smile upon his lips when Padrig crossed the chamber to them. “Where were you, milord? Was Lady Alys able to fix your back for you? Where is she? Rafe said—”

Padrig cut off his questions by the simple expedient of covering the boy’s mouth with his hand until he stopped talking. “Are you always so lively in the morn?” he asked, moving away his hand and laughing. “Rafe’s had not a wink of sleep, if I know him.” Rafe, his face drawn with pain, shook his head wearily. “Perhaps we should move away from the fire, give him some quiet. After all, he kept watch over you all night.”

He led the boy toward the far end of the chamber, where Dickon had stored the things he’d filched from the village. “My back is fine, I thank you.”

“Did milady have to sew—”

“Dickon,” Padrig said sharply. “Don’t speak so loudly, if you please,” he added, lowering his voice. “Lady Alys was asleep when I looked in on her last. Perhaps she can rest a bit longer.”

As he’d expected, mentioning that Lady Alys needed something was enough to capture Dickon’s attention. “Of course, milord. Do you want something to eat? There’s food by the fire.”

“I’ll get some in a bit,” he replied. “In the meantime, would you look through your supplies, see what you’ve got for food we can take with us on a journey?”

Dickon opened his mouth to speak again, but Padrig cut him off with a look. “I need to talk with Rafe, then I’ll come help you.”

Leaving the lad to his task, Padrig picked up two
mugs and the small keg of ale they’d tapped the night before and went back to the fire. He sat down near Rafe’s pallet, poured the ale and handed a cup to his second in command.

“A quiet night?” he asked.

Rafe nodded, then drained the mug in two long swallows. Padrig took it back, refilled it and returned it before broaching the subject he’d come to speak to Rafe about.

“How fare you this morn? Are you able to get up and move about? Are your wounds paining you?”

“By Christ, you ask as many questions as the boy,” Rafe muttered. He closed his eyes as though gathering his strength. When he opened them, ’twas clear that he was holding himself together by sheer force of will. His eyes were clouded with weariness and pain, and he slumped against the wall as though it were all that held him upright.

Padrig topped off his own ale, brought the cup to his lips, then lowered it untouched. “I beg your pardon,” he said quietly. “I’ve so much on my mind, it races ahead of me. ’Tis no excuse.” He drank, guiltily aware that while he had spent the most intense, exciting night of his life in the company of a beautiful woman, Rafe had stood watch out here.

Weary, in pain, alone but for a sleeping child.

Somehow it had made sense to Padrig when Rafe had suggested he stand watch, but in retrospect, Padrig felt he should have made a different decision.

Rafe shook his head. “’Tis nothing. It’s only that I’m so damned frustrated. We’ve work to do, and I cannot be counted on to do it.” He dragged his sword across his knees and toyed with the worn loop attached to the hilt, his gaze focused on his hands. “When I get up to piss,
I stumble about like a drunken sailor. After resting all night, ’twas all I could manage just now to tend to business and get back here without gettin’ down on my hands and knees and crawling like a babe,” he added with disgust. “Fat lot of help I’ll be if—” he ripped a frayed piece of leather from the loop and cast it aside “—when we have to fight again.”

“There’s not much we can do at the moment in any case,” Padrig pointed out.

“’Tis still bloody aggravating,” Rafe muttered.

“Could you have been knocked in the head when we were fighting?”

“There’s no lump on my head, and I don’t remember it happening.” Rafe glanced up at Padrig, his lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Though if I had been, I wouldn’t recall it, would I? ’Twould explain why I was out o’ my wits for so long, though.” He snorted. “’Course, there’s some would say I never had my wits about me anyway. Still can’t imagine how I slept through you hauling my arse through this place.”

Padrig sipped his ale. “I’d have been pleased if you’d woken up.” He rubbed his shoulder above where the arrow had hit him. “That litter is not the best way to move an unconscious man, especially in this terrain. ’Tis a wonder you didn’t rap your head on something when I was dragging you about.”

Rafe set aside his sword and handed Padrig a couple of apples and a chunk of cheese wrapped in a cloth. “The lad’s a hard worker,” he remarked. “Came to check on me, see if I needed anything as soon as he woke.” He glanced up at the sky, where the stars were fading. “And ’tis not yet daylight.”

Padrig used his knife to slice off a chunk of the
cheese, stabbing it with the point of the blade and holding it out for Rafe to take. “He’ll be good help for you while I’m gone,” he said offhandedly as he lopped off a slice for himself. “Should you need it.”

Rafe’s dark eyes burned with frustration, but his expression was resigned. He nodded. “I ought to go with you, milord, but I know I’d slow you down, especially on foot. Mayhap once my brain’s working better, Dickon and I could spy out the situation at the keep, see if we can learn anything useful for when you return. You’re going to l’Eau Clair for help, are you not?”