Heart of Fire (46 page)

“Sweeting, close your
eyes.”

“I don’t think I can. I’m too
excited to keep them closed.”

“Please.”

She covered her face with her hands,
leaving large gaps between her fingers.

“Close your eyes or I’ll pull your
skirt up over your head and do it myself.”

She clamped her fingers together. “I
swear I cannot see. Where are we going?”

“Patience, love.”

She listened to his footsteps on the
stone floors. They went up another flight of steps. She smelled the
oily tang of chain mail and a male voice greeted them as doors
opened. Tallow and floral scents filled the space as the same doors
shut behind them. Ertemis put her down.

“May I open my eyes now?”

“Aye.”

They were in a small foyer. Similar
to the king’s quarters, it had the crest of Shaldar inlaid on the
floor. Tall candelabras, dripping in crystal, stood on either side
of two sets of doors. The candlelight lit a path of white rose
petals leading from the foyer into the doors on the
right.

“Where are we? I don’t recognize
this place.”

“This used to be the queen’s
quarters but as my mother is not about to leave my father’s side, I
have had it refurbished for us. Unless you would prefer your own
chambers.”

“You did this for us? When did you
have the time?”

“Actually, it was my idea, but
Valduuk took care of the details.” He held her hands as he backed
through the doors to their right. “There’s more.”

The trail of petals led into the
massive bedchamber. Candlelight muted the mural of blue skies and
wispy clouds decorating the high ceilings. Two enormous armoires
flanking one of the tall windows dressed in ivory silk.

Jessalyne kicked off her slippers
and wriggled her toes into the luxurious wool carpets. “This room
is so beautiful. And this bed…” she stared up at the thick carved
posters and snowy damask curtains.

“It reminds me of another bed.” Her
fingers trailed across the silk coverlet as she walked back to
Ertemis.

“I know how much you liked that bed,
and I thought it would be a good reminder to me.”

She slipped her arms about his
waist. Crinkling her brow, she tilted her head. “A reminder of
what? That was not exactly the most agreeable evening we spent
together.”

“I resolved that night that any
woman who could put up with me at my worst surely deserved my best,
although in truth, I had no reason to believe you’d want me at all.
When I left Elysium and realized how much time had passed, I was
afraid your heart would belong to another.”

“Why would you think that?” She
shook her head at his admission.

“Beautiful women aren’t alone for
long, although you’re so much more than beautiful. You’re strong
and brave and you fight for what you believe in.”

She leaned into him. “You see all of
that in me?”

A wicked grin lit his face. “Aye,
beneath that tempting bosom beats a heart of fire and I’ve been
cold too long.”

Her hands traveled lower to cup his
backside. “You don’t feel cold to me.”

His brows shot up. “I thought I was
marrying an innocent maid.” He lifted her, slipping his hands
beneath her buttocks and pulling her hard against him. “Seems I
have wed the sauciest wench in all of Shaldar.”

Wrapping her legs around his waist,
she captured his mouth in a restless, hungry kiss. Her tongue
danced against his and he moaned.

He walked them to the bed, resting
her on the thick mattress to free his hands. Without breaking their
kiss, he loosed the ties on her gown and eased the silk up over her
thighs. Suddenly, he backed away.

Her brow furrowed nervously. “What’s
wrong?”

His words came out husky with need.
“I want to see you.”

Tentatively, she stood and slipped
out of her gown. His hungry eyes grazed over her. The white silk
undergown hid nothing. He kneeled at her feet and slid his hands up
her calves, under the white silk, and along her heated
thighs.

“You’re as supple as warm honey and
twice as sweet.”

She closed her eyes, struggling to
balance the fire ignited by his touch.

“Look at me. I want to see your
eyes, lelaya.”

Shaking her head, she whispered,
“I’m afraid.” Images from the past swirled in her head as she
opened her eyes. Would the past always haunt her?

He lifted her onto the bed and lay
beside her. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know.” She wove her fingers
through his black locks. “I’m afraid of hurting you. I fear I’ll
lose control and burn you like I did my father.”

“I held you the entire time you
fought Sryka and nothing happened.”

She pursed her lips. “Your ears were
smoking. You consider that nothing?”

He traced a line across her
collarbone and down between her breasts. “The risk is worth the
reward.”

“No, it isn’t.” She’d almost killed
her father. Had killed Erebus.

“I’m not worth it?” He pulled
back.

“No. Yes. What I mean to say is that
nothing is worth hurting you.”

“You can’t hurt me. You might singe
me a bit, but I’ll heal.” He winked.

“Stop jesting.” Stubborn, handsome,
impossible oaf.

He leaned to whisper in her ear,
brushing his lips tenderly over her skin. “I’ll set the bed on fire
myself if you make me sit here any longer without touching
you.”

She nestled her head on his
shoulder. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

“The only thing I’m afraid of is
that my wedding night will be spent talking.”

Heat spilled over her cheeks. “That
will not do.”

“Nay, it will not.” He stood, his
hands working the buckle on his belt.

She reached for him, pushing his
hands away. “Let me.”

Grinning as he dropped his hands, he
watched her nimble fingers unbuckle the clasp. “You do that as
though you’ve undressed a man before,” he teased.

She smiled to herself. A taste of
his own medicine might cure him. She dropped his belt to the floor.
“I have.”

“What?” He scowled. “Who? When did
this happen?”

“It was you, my love, before I even
knew your name.” She giggled a tugged at his tunic. “Such jealousy!
Perhaps the Green Death is a better name for you.”

The muscles bunched in his shoulders
as he crossed his arms over his chest, thwarting her attempts to
remove his shirt. His black eyes gleamed with amusement. “Shall I
remind you of a rather buxom tavern girl by the name of Dalayna? As
I recall, you flew into quite a fit over something that never even
happened.”

“That wicked trollop provoked me
apurpose and if you mention her name again, I’ll do more than make
your ears smoke.” She threw her hands onto her hips, daring him to
repeat the girl’s name. The white silk strained across her body,
and his needy gaze dropped lower. He swallowed.

“Now I know I have married the right
woman.” A familiar silver glitter sparkled in his eyes. “I cannot
resist you when you’re cross. Kiss me, wench.”

She climbed onto the bed, kneeling
on the coverlet. “No.”

“No?” He moved toward her, but she
put her hand out to stop him.

It would be good for him to wait.
“You will not say her name again?”

“Nay, it shall never cross my lips
again.” He promised with his hand over his heart. “Now, please,
before I succumb—”

“Tell me you love me,” she
insisted.

“I love you madly.”

He leaned in to kiss her. She
scooted back and smiled coyly. “Take your shirt off.”

Far too eagerly, he stripped off his
tunic. His skin shimmered in the candlelight. She wanted to devour
him. “Now have I earned a kiss?”

She shook her head and pointed at
his trousers, her face burning at her own boldness. She stared
brazenly, waiting for his reaction.

Without hesitation, he yanked his
boots off and tore at his trousers, disrobing in a blur. She
shrieked and hid her face behind her fingers. She hadn’t expected
so much of him so fast.

“Is this what you desired, your
highness? To see me bare before you?” Need thickened his voice to a
deep, smoky syrup.

She nodded without looking at
him.

“Look at me, lelaya. I’m your
husband. It’s your right. And if you’re bold enough to ask, you
should be bold enough to look.”

He’s right, he’s my husband. I have
every right to look. She dropped her hands. There was so much more
of him than she remembered. So much dark skin and curved muscle
and…“Your eyes are glowing.”

He grinned wickedly and crooked his
finger at her. “Come closer. Sit on the edge of the
bed.”

“Turn around and I will.”

“You’ve seen me twice in my skin
already, haven’t you? Why is this any different?” he asked as he
turned.

“Because I didn’t intend to see you
those times.” Her gaze traveled up the steely contours of his legs
to the rounded curves of his backside. Every inch of him was hers
and hers alone. The thought made her giddy. Light-headed.
Wanton.

A shuddered sigh escaped her throat.
Her fingers itched to caress his velvet skin. She slid off the bed
and went to him, softly stroking her fingers up his thighs,
flattening her palms over his hips.

He sucked air in through clenched
teeth. The thick muscles in his back constricted as she explored
the silver trail of runes tattooed on his spine. Blazing kisses
followed as her arms wrapped around him. Her fingers splayed over
the ridges of muscle leading to his groin.

“Jessalyne, please,” he hissed. “You
torture me.”

Need had long ago overwhelmed any
remaining shreds of shyness. With a shush of fabric, her gown
pooled around her feet. She tugged his hand and turned him
around.

* * *

In the candlelight, her skin seemed
drenched in new cream. Words failed him. The long ago glimpse of
her dressed in the dampened sheath by the pool faded, replaced by
the unadulterated vision before him. Her gracious curves captivated
him, enslaving him to the marrow. Her power flared around her
softly, as if moonlight shined through her skin.

She studied him openly, the pale
luminescence surrounding her increasing the more she looked.
Obviously, she’d overcome her inhibitions.

“Am I to your liking?” He watched
her gaze travel his body.

“The fairest man I’ve ever
seen.”

“Aren’t I the only man you’ve ever
seen?”

She nodded, laughing softly, but her
eyes never strayed from him.

He’d known that much, but her
admission filled him with prideful possession. She was his and only
his. Now. Always. Forever.

She hesitated, her voice a whisper.
“Are all men so…” She gestured with her hands, not knowing how to
put words to her question.

He laughed. “You never cease to
charm me, wife. A more winsome wench I can’t imagine.” He gathered
her into his arms. “Of course, you’ll never know the answer to that
question because I have no intention of letting another man near
you for as long as I live.”

Their lips met in agreement, a bond
of fidelity sealed with a kiss. He picked her up, cradling her in
his arms like the precious treasure she was, and carried her back
to the bed.

“Now,” he said, “we shall begin your
lessons.”

Epilogue

Ertemis hid himself in the shadows
outside their door, wanting to catch a glimpse of his wife unaware.
He hadn’t seen her all day. There was much to do before his parents
left for Elysium. Because of that, he yearned for more time alone
with her before the pace of their lives increased
further.

Whether she was teaching Fynna a new
spell, practicing her own magic or drowsing beneath him with the
flush of passion coloring her cheeks, he loved watching her. The
latter thought filled him with new purpose as he entered their
bedchamber.

She sat by the fire, her glorious
hair unbound and spilling over her shoulders. His latest gift to
her stretched in front of the fire, then left his spot on the rug
to seek his mistress’s attention. Raisin rubbed against her legs,
and she reached down to scratch the little black cat on the head
before taking up her needles again. The pink tip of her tongue
darted over her lips as she worked the yarn in her
hands.

He chuckled softly and she looked
toward the door. “There you are. How was your day, my
love?”

He glanced behind him. “You can see
me?”

“Of course. You’re standing right in
front of me.”

“But I’m hidden. You shouldn’t be
able to see me.”

She shrugged. “Well, I
can.”

“I thought the residual powers you
gained healing me disappeared a few months ago.”