The Lady's Choice (10 page)

‘I am sorry, Ramón,' Benae said. ‘I am being as gentle as I can.'

‘You are the epitome of tenderness, lady.' His gut clenched and a shiver of pleasure slid up his spine as her fingers traced the line of stitches. Benae had strong, artistic fingers, made for healing – and pleasuring a man. He snapped his mind back from contemplating how good those fingers would feel on other parts of his body.

‘Thank you,' he said, his voice hoarse with emotion he could not dispel. He reached for his shirt and drew it on, wincing as the stitches pulled. ‘I should check on the guards that were stationed in the forest and see if I can find another horse.'

Benae gazed at him as if he were a particularly difficult blacksmith's puzzle. ‘Still running away, Ramón?'

He froze in the act of opening the door and turned to face her. ‘We cannot stay here a moment longer than needed, lady.'

She snorted. ‘Two steps forward and three steps back. Don't you feel it? This connection we have? You shut down every time I start to get close.'

Ramón shook his head. Did she truly not understand? ‘There can be no “us” for so many reasons. Put it out of your mind and concentrate on gaining Wildecoast. That is what I am trying to do.'

‘I try but something keeps pushing me back to you. You are important to me.'

‘And you are important to me – as the lady of my lord.'

Benae stamped her foot. ‘Tell me you don't want me.'

‘I don't want you.'

‘Liar!' Benae closed the gap between them and flung her arms around his neck, her lips against his, all the flesh he craved pressed to his hungry body. His response was instant, opening his mouth to receive her plundering tongue, his hands sliding down her body to cup her enticing backside. She parted her legs and leaned further into him.

‘I have wanted you since I first saw you,' she said, breaking away from his lips and pushing his shirt aside to plant soft, moist kisses across his chest. Her hands fumbled at the fastenings of his breeches as she continued to rain kisses down the ridges of his stomach.

He closed his eyes to draw strength for what he must do; before he lost the last shred of control he possessed. Ramón grasped her questing hands. ‘Benae.' He swallowed hard at the look in her eyes, at the passion and desire that blazed for him.
Oh Goddess, what would it be like to have this woman?
The thought of her forever given to the prince was almost enough to push him back into her arms.

She straightened, tugging at the hands he still held. ‘You are going to say “no”.'

‘I have already said it, Benae. I do not know what more I can say. Your path is with the prince and mine . . .'

‘Do not say it again! Alecia has chosen another and your quest to retrieve her and punish Vard Anton will be the end of you. Do not let her ruin you.'

‘I must retrieve her. It is the only way I can atone for letting her go that night. Even if she and I have no future, this I must do.'

‘So you finally admit your dream of a life with Alecia is only that. A dream. If my actions have helped you to see that then I am glad.'

‘My dreams are my business.' He would not admit to the change in his feelings for Alecia to the woman before him. Benae could not know how hard it was for him to deny her or she would never give up on him. Somehow he had to keep her focussed on her marriage, unpalatable as the thought was. She had made her decision weeks ago and more depended on this than just his happiness.

Benae finally pulled her hands from his. ‘Go and do what you must.'

To Ramón, it sounded like a final command. Perhaps that was truly what she meant. Benae had given up on him. Ramón buttoned his shirt and pulled on his tunic. ‘It is almost dawn. I will return shortly after daylight, no matter what I have found. Stay in the carriage.' He slammed the carriage door on his way out.

Benae dressed in a fresh travelling gown of russet satin while mulling over her conversation with Ramón. Stubborn man! But she could not give up on him. Her heart knew his on some deeper level and she could not ignore that. It meant something more than just lustful attraction. It went deeper than mere desire and eventually he would see that.

The carriage began to feel tiny as Benae paced the few steps back and forwards. She had never enjoyed being cooped up. Still, she could not bring herself to leave the carriage until it was light outside.

By the time dawn touched the clearing, Benae could stand no more. Hours of straining her ears for sounds of Ramón's return or that of the elves had her nerves ready to snap. She left the carriage and set about making a breakfast of oatmeal and boiling a pot for tea. She topped up Flaire's oats for the hard day's riding ahead. She rested her forehead against his neck as he ate, and her pounding heart slowed to match the heartbeat of the striking grey stallion. Time spent with Flaire never failed to calm her. His mind still raced with the events of last night but they had become jumbled and Benae hoped in time he would forget his fear.

She left her mount munching his oats and returned to the fire to stir the oatmeal, her thoughts tumbling over themselves. If only life could be simple: she would marry for love, she would not be burdened with the care of her estate; free to come and go as she pleased, free to make a life of her choosing. But no one could do as they wanted in all things. Poverty constrained most lives and duty played its part as well. Even Merel had not been able to escape duty and it had cost her life. Benae glanced at the pile of covered bodies where Merel lay. At least there was none to mourn her but Benae. Merel had been orphaned as a child and had grown up in Benae's household. She was the only living person who would miss the maid.

Benae's heart sank at the prospect of continuing without stoic Merel. She had been more of a sister than a servant, always there to give her advice. Often that counsel had been gold. Merel must be given a court funeral befitting her importance in Benae's life.

Pushing sad thoughts of Merel aside, Benae scanned the trees surrounding the clearing, hoping to spy Ramón returning. The forest was silent, waiting. She began to see movement from the corner of her eye but there was never anything when she turned.

‘Silly woman,' she said to herself. ‘Jumping at shadows like a child.' She forced herself to concentrate on stirring the oatmeal, then dished up two plates and laid one by the fire. When the pot boiled, she made two mugs of herbal tea and placed one beside Ramón's oatmeal.

Benae was halfway through breakfast when Ramón stepped from the trees leading a brown horse, two bodies slung over its back. He avoided her eyes as he led the horse to the pile of kingdom dead and lifted the edge of the cover. Benae averted her face until the bodies were stored beneath the tent material.

Ramón led the brown horse to the carriage, tethered him beside Flaire and gave him a bowl of oats. He joined her by the fire and stood staring into the flames.

‘Were there not three men on duty last night?' Benae said.

‘I could not find the third, but there was a pool of blood where he had been stationed. The brown horse is one of the carriage horses. I found no others.' He sat beside her and reached for the mug of tea. After a long swig he fell upon the oatmeal and finished it in short order. ‘Thank you for the meal, although I could have sworn I told you to stay in the carriage. What if they had come back?'

Benae shrugged. ‘I do not think sitting in the carriage would have protected me for long.'

Ramón sank into silence, a deep frown on his brow.

She could not abide the quiet. ‘How is your arm?'

‘Fine.' Brooding darkness sat on his shoulders like a cloak. It would do him no good to reflect on the night past. Or was it her he contemplated?

‘What do you plan? Benae asked.

‘We must take the horses and ride for Wildecoast. I will pack a tent and enough food and water to last us, and you must pack a satchel with what you need for the journey. If we ride hard, we will reach the king's seat by midday tomorrow.'

‘Then I will leave you to wash and pack the dishes and douse the flames.' Benae stood and left to prepare for the journey.

They took to the road only minutes later. Benae rode Flaire, a satchel with medicines and personal items her only burden. A small bag of oats was tied behind her saddle. Ramón rode the carriage horse, which pranced and snorted for the first several miles. The beast was not used to bearing a man on his back and the added burden of the tent behind the saddle made him fidget all the more.

They made good time, alternately galloping, trotting and walking to spare the horses. Luncheon was taken on the banks of a stream.

‘This could be nice if the circumstances were different,' Benae said as she chewed her way through a heel of stale bread and a chunk of hard cheese.

‘You would have to be a very optimistic person indeed to think this was nice,' said Ramón, only half listening.

‘There is no need to feel responsible, you know,' she said.

He stared at her. ‘Who else is to blame for those deaths? A good leader anticipates trouble and prepares.'

‘You placed an extra guard that night.'

‘I thought the risk of attack was small. I was wrong. If only I had been on guard instead of Dawir or Alfrus . . .'

‘Then you might be dead and so might I, or worse.' She moved closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. It tensed beneath her fingers. ‘You saved my life, Ramón. I am so grateful for that. The prince will be as well. He will not blame you.'

He glanced down at her hand and then his piercing azure eyes met hers. Benae's heart melted at the doubt she saw there. It was clear he thought all was lost.

‘We
will
make it to Wildecoast.' She reached for his hand, his strong fingers closed on hers and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. No one had ever given her butterflies.

‘This is not a situation I would have asked to be placed in,' Ramón said. ‘Travelling with you unescorted places us both in a thorny spot. Even if we make it safely to the coast, another danger presents itself. Tongues will wag.' His eyes strayed to her mouth and suddenly Benae did not care what people thought.

‘If they will speak, let us give them something to speak of,' she said, planting her lips squarely on his.
Oh yes!
Ramón's mouth was soft and inviting and she took full advantage of it while he was too shocked to pull away. Both hands on his shoulders, Benae kissed him, willing all the passion she contained to flow into the glorious man beside her. Ramón responded, his lips moving beneath hers, his tongue questing to push beyond her lips and explore the heat of her mouth. Benae not only allowed it, she welcomed his attention, pushing him back onto the soft grass of the riverbank, laying herself on top of him. His arms wrapped around her and slipped lower, his fingers on her waist, igniting warmth deep down in her core.

She pushed herself up astride him, feeling the bulge in his breeches. There was no one to see and nothing to stop them. The long fearful night made Benae careless of the judgement of others, desperate to lose herself in Ramón's arms. She would take what he had and use it to sate the explosive need within her. Her lips ravished his mouth, his face, his neck and he groaned, thrusting his hips upwards to meet her. She sat right up and gazed down at him. His pupils were huge, dark bottomless pools of need and she could not wait any longer.

Her fingers unbuttoned his tunic while his hands slid beneath her skirts until he could run his hands up her legs to her inner thighs. She paused then, as a wave of longing nearly undid her. Benae fought it down and continued stripping Ramón until his chest lay bare to the midday sun. She bent and kissed first one erect nipple and then the other, while he groaned and rolled his head from side to side, his fingers searching for the ripe womanhood beneath her pantaloons. She was ready for him, desperate to accommodate the desire he so clearly felt.
But not yet.
This must be right.

Benae unlaced his breeches, leaving them on his hips but relieving his erection from its bindings. He was large! He would fill her as no one else ever had. She was wet just imagining his length buried inside her, thrusting until he poured his seed into her most intimate place. Her fingers closed around him and he reared up, gasping, but she did not allow him any respite. She filled her mouth with spittle and released it into her palm then closed her fingers again on his manhood, running her hand up and down until he strained, panting, against her. Oh, he was a virgin all right and Benae revelled in the power it gave her. She could have him right now if she wished. And she wished.

Benae abandoned his straining rod and stood, pulling up her skirt and discarding her pantaloons. Ramón levered himself up onto his elbows and lay watching her, panting as if he had run a race. Benae reached for the hem of her dress and started drawing it to her waist as she prepared to straddle him again. As she lowered herself towards his hips, Ramón clutched her forearms and pushed her a little down his legs so that she missed her target. She reached for his erection but he stopped her.

‘No.'

‘No one will find out, Ramón. There is no one to tell the tale. I know you want this. Tell me you want this.'

‘My body does not lie. I want you with every particle of my being but you are pledged to the prince.'

‘Can you truly deny me now?' Benae whispered. ‘I could give you release, pleasure, even love if you wish.'

‘You talk of the instant but our lives, our loves are lived over a lifetime. What significance does this one moment have when compared to that?'

‘Romantic rubbish, Ramón! Listen to your body and give it that which it craves: me.' She tried to pull her hands from his but he would not let her go. The passion in his gaze had cooled.

Benae sighed as she realised the moment had passed. ‘Let me up.'

Ramón released her hands. She stood and retrieved her pantaloons, which she pulled on, being sure to allow Ramón an eyeful of her legs as she drew the underwear on.
Stupid man!
Why could he not follow his instincts? Why could he not allow her some pleasure? The Goddess knew they had been through enough last night. They could be dead by tomorrow. Desire bubbled within her as she watched Ramón lace his breeches, stuffing himself into a space that had suddenly become too small. She smiled. She had not known he was such a man. Now she wanted him more than ever and she would
have
him before she gave herself to Jiseve. One last fling would not hurt.

Ramón had plenty of opportunities to contemplate Benae and her actions as they hurried on their way to the coast that afternoon. For that matter, he had time to consider his own actions as well.

Benae rode ahead of him, her delicious curves accentuated by the riding habit she wore and by the horsemanship she displayed. She and Flaire were as one. They had a special bond that Ramón had never known could exist. His thoughts turned to his black gelding, Arrow, which had been taken by the elves. He hoped the horse took a chunk out of whoever had stolen him. It would not have been unusual for the beast to do so.

He was glad Benae had not lost her horse, for she had lost enough of late. Perhaps that was the cause of her less than ladylike behaviour. Loss and the threat of death could send a person crazy and what had Benae's behaviour been but insane? He went cold at the thought of what the prince would do if he knew the two had even kissed. Ramón did not delude himself that the very least he could expect was to be banished from the kingdom. He would lose all the respect he had gained from Jiseve Zialni.

Somehow he must convey Benae safely to Wildecoast and back to Brightcastle without falling into her arms again. He was hard just thinking about her astride him, pantaloons discarded, his rod freed to the forest air. Only his honour had stopped him, but duty and honour would not be his strength forever. He was only human, after all.

Ramón pulled his horse back to a walk to rest him and called to Benae but Flaire had already dropped his pace. He caught up to her. It was time to talk.

‘I think we need to clear the air,' he said.

She sent him a direct look, her vibrant emerald eyes amused. ‘I know what will clear the air, Ramón, but I do not think you have that in mind.'

‘You truly think it would help if I bedded you?'

‘I think it would make you see that what you feel for Alecia is infatuation. I know you have no experience of the sexual act and if you did you would realise there is more than fond thoughts in a relationship between a man and a woman.'

‘I cannot see how coupling with you will make me think differently of Alecia.' No, Benae's very presence in Brightcastle had already accomplished that. ‘Unless you think that I will be so besotted with you that I will forget she ever existed.'

‘That is exactly what I believe,' Benae said, her flashing eyes stirring his blood no matter how he tried to douse the flames of his desire for her. ‘Alecia belongs to Vard Anton now.'

‘And you belong to the prince, or have you forgotten?'

Benae frowned and Flaire pranced as he sensed her disquiet. ‘I have not forgotten my promise to Jiseve. I came to Brightcastle in good faith. I thought I could turn my back on my past life and accept a marriage of convenience. I thought that the salvation of my people would sustain me without love.'

‘What do you mean “the salvation of your people”?' Ramón asked. Soon it would be time to move to the trot and he had to get this situation with Benae resolved. She had opened up to him now and he would not miss the opportunity to understand her.

‘My estates are poverty stricken and my people starving.' Her voice was strained as though this was the last topic she would wish to discuss. ‘I am ashamed to say it is my fault. With Mama and Papa dead, the running of Branasar lands fell to me and I did not take enough care with the money they had put aside for hard times.' She turned her beautiful face to him, tears pooling in her eyes. ‘It is all gone. You cannot imagine the requests I had for fixing roofs and fences and replacing lost stock. The dark elves began attacking my remote farms and the menfolk defending them died. That left the women to carry on and they have done their best but . . .'