Captive Heart (23 page)

“Whatever my Lady commands.”

“But you say he was compelled?” she asked me.

“Not all was compulsion. He wanted revenge. And once he had you, he wanted
you
. Nimue’s spell merely augmented his desires, just as she augmented his strength. To compel for so long against a man’s natural state would be a feat beyond Avalon itself.”

“But without her spell, he might have refused, might have said no to her plans?”

“It is possible, yes.”

“But not certain?” she pressed.

“No.”

“What,” she asked Gareth, “is the penalty when a knight is defeated in single combat such as this?”

“His life and lands and means are forfeit. The champion decides their disposition.”

“How, then, would
you
dispose them?”

“The same way I disposed his brother’s. I would commend him and his knights to King Arthur. To be part of Arthur’s army that would bring justice to this Isle. To atone with body and sword in that service from this day forward, and to be subject to swift retribution should he fail the oath he’d be required to swear.”

“You would trust his oath?”

“He has honor yet. Did he not send Nimue on her way? Do we not bide in his keep—and are we not still alive?”

“Then you would let him live?”

Gareth went down on a knee beside Nessie. A sign of respect, of neutrality, of fairness when done on the battlefield. “It is not mine to weigh Ironside’s honor against the pain and harm he has done to you. To Lyn. I am…an instrument…of justice. Your sword. Not justice itself. Command me.”

Nessie’s eyes went wide with reverence. And I realized as my younger sister she had never had a decision not made for her. Never had a man offer to gift, had only had Ironside forcefully take. Even our father, who had been a fair man, had never given Nessie the gift of command.

She held it close, said at last, “I cannot forgive him.”

I swallowed hard and squeezed shut my eyes.

“But so long as I never have to see him again, and so long as he remains in Arthur’s court and abides by Arthur’s laws, then give him to Arthur. I will not have his blood on my hands.”

Gareth bowed his head. “Your wish, my Lady.” Then with considered gentleness, he captured Nessie’s hand in his and lifted it to his lips, watching her carefully.

She tensed at his touch, and by the wild look in her eyes I feared he had dared too much. She took a breath, and then another, before steadying herself.

Only then did Gareth release her hand. She snatched it away, but only a short distance before it faltered. She flushed.

“Thank him,” I prompted. “In other circumstances, you would offer him a ring or bracelet for his services.”

“But how do I know I’ve chosen right?”

An image flashed across my
sight
. Ironside at Camelot. Older. Sterner, as though the weight of a thousand sins rested on his brow. And seated, not just with Arthur’s court, but at the Round Table itself.

Penitent. Cleansed. Absolved

Weeping, I embraced my sister. “Never doubt, sweetling. You have truly redeemed us all.”

We stayed on at the Red Castle for almost a fortnight. I ventured into its halls only in the company of Lyn, ever afraid of running into Ironside. While Lyn had shared her vision of him at Arthur’s Table and while he’d sent servants and jewels to me in way of comfort and apology, there was no gesture he could make to ever wash away the memory or the pain of what he’d done.

My only balm was the bond of trust Lyn and her champions were building with the greatest of care. In our chamber, open as it was, no gesture, no deed, no touch was private. And yet I felt wrapped in privacy and respect, all deference shown to me by the men who’d rescued me. Never once did they pursue an unwelcome touch or stare, and yet I was free to be a voyeur of their most intimate acts. To discover that not all men’s lances were weapons to be feared nor were all men slaves to their brutish passions.

Even Marrok showed me every courtesy, only indulging his wolfish appetites with Gareth and the occasional deep, swift kiss and hard embrace with Lyn.

For seven nights Gareth and Marrok jousted with abandon in their bed across the room. For seven nights I watched them joy in the same acts that had caused me only despair, heard their cries of pleasure where I in their place had whimpered in pain. For seven nights Lyn held me in her protective embrace, responding with unabashed desire to the spectacle of their lust—of their love.

And on the eighth night I told Lyn, “Go.”

The eagerness in her eyes was tempered with heartbreaking concern. Her hand on my cheek burned. “Not if it will cause you pain.”

“Your joy is my joy, not my pain.” I told her. A week ago I may not have meant it. A week ago I did not know Gareth and Marrok for the champions they truly were. A week ago…seemed a lifetime past.

“If you change your mind and need me here again…”

I smiled at Lyn’s sincerity, at her love. “Go,” I repeated.

As she eased away from me, I felt the void of her—alone, but not alone. Not anymore.

Gareth stood in the firelight to greet her. I followed the now-familiar lines of him as he brushed her lips with a kiss, then lifted off her shift. For a moment, I saw her not through a sister’s eyes but through Gareth’s, marveling at how the shape of her fit his questing hands. Through his eyes, she was lovely and desirable, a prize to be won, never a possession to be conquered.

And she was ready to be won.

But was I truly ready to watch?

The hard planes of the men were distancing in a way the peaks and valleys of Lyn were not. She was both an echo of Nimue and a second self through whom I could experience all. If Marrok touched Gareth
there
, I could only imagine what it must feel to him. Anywhere Marrok touched Lyn I would know its feeling for sure.

Or would I?
A welcome touch must surely feel different from a loathed one.

What if I only felt the pain and none of the pleasure?

Panic flooded through me.

Then Gareth was kissing Lyn, one hip molded into his hand, the other hand tracing the curve of a breast mounded between them. Both Lyn’s hands kneaded the ample muscle over Gareth’s ribs and back. With a moan, she arched into him.

I couldn’t yet feel the depths of her passion. I resolved myself that it could be I never would. That perhaps Ironside and Nimue had stripped that from me too. But knowing Lyn went willing into this gave me the strength to continue.

Although when I caught Marrok out of the corner of my eye staring not at them but me, I faltered.

With a sweep of his arm behind her knees, Gareth lifted Lyn and tossed her into the middle of the bed where Marrok lay in wait.

Lyn laughed and Marrok pounced over her with mock ferociousness, growling into the hollow of her neck.

Gareth joined them, wrapping his large arms about them both. For a few moments they simply held to one another, hands reveling in the touch of skin, of each other, that for days had been denied them.

Then first Marrok then Gareth dropped their heads, each to one of Lyn’s full breasts, taking the tips in their mouths and suckling. She draped her arms around the twin heads, her hands playing in their curls, teasing their ears. So like a mother, I thought.

“Ahhh.”

I had to move to see why she gasped. I blushed. Where Gareth had his hand was a place no son would ever breach his mother.

Even as I watched, Marrok’s hand intruded on my view, circling Gareth’s staff that rose, quivering, beside Lyn’s hip.

I blinked, for the first time wondering at the logistics of three.

“God’s bones, Lyn,” Marrok panted. “It’s been too long without you. I can’t do this slow. Not this time.” He rolled her to her side so she was facing me and positioned himself behind her. As he straddled his way over her, his staff waved full and tight before him.

My eyes went wide with the horror of what he was about to do. What I’d watched him do before to Gareth. But Gareth was bigger, a man.

Lyn smiled assurance at me, even as Gareth bent his head over Marrok and took him in his mouth, slicking him, sucking him, swallowing him.

After but a moment Marrok pushed him abruptly away, spreading Lyn’s hips with one hand and fitting her to him from the front with his other. He eased in, till with his final thrust she accepted all of him inside.

Their hips began to rock and his hand on her stomach pressed inward.

Then Gareth’s hand was also there. No, more than just his hand. I crawled to the edge of my bed to better see.

Timing their rhythm, Gareth nudged himself between Lyn’s thighs, stretching himself between Lyn and me.

Surely he wasn’t going to…not with Marrok already there.

But the flex of Gareth’s hips and Lyn’s happy, “Unhhh!” told me that he was…and had.

“Deeper!” Marrok growled. He swung an arm around Gareth’s waist and pulled the three of them even closer together.

Gareth plunged his tongue between Lyn’s lips as all three moved now to the same urgent, primal beat, impossible in the dark to tell where one left off and the other began.

Their congress was deep, intense, their breath straining, straining…

Marrok’s harsh snarl broke the harmony as he convulsed hard and pumped his last against them. Lyn’s soft squeal, following, was half-swallowed against Gareth’s open mouth as he groaned his reply.

They shuddered together—a final salute to the ecstasy that ensnared them. It wafted off them, a nearly physical thing that I could almost reach out and capture for my own.

They weren’t done, of course, merely resting. A brief respite between this time that was all about need and lust, and the next that would be all for love and pleasure.

I met their eyes, one by one, as they lay tangled in each others’ hearts. Clear in each of them was an invitation, offered without pressure, without jealousy.

When I was ready, I would be welcome to share.

When I was ready, they would take my captive heart and set it free.

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Arthurian Hearts Series
(Arthurian Paranormal Romance)

HEARTSONG (Book 1)
QUEEN’S HEART (Book 2)
CAPTIVE HEART (Book 3)

ANGEL HEART (A Christmas Novella)
– Releases Nov 26, 2015

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Arthurian
(Non-Paranormal but with Romance Elements)

SPOIL OF WAR

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Medical Thriller

SECTOR C

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