Kiss of the Rose (12 page)

“Does he kiss your mouth until you can’t think, or breathe; does he suckle at your breasts until your nipples are as hard and needy as his cock.”

She stood still as his hand traveled lower to curve around her back and settle over her bound breasts. Could he feel the tight bud of her nipple through the binding? She wanted him to.

“Does he slide his fingers inside you until you open for him as succulently as a flower for a honey bee, and then does he use his mouth to suck you dry?”

His hands drifted lower, to her buttocks. He cupped them until she gasped and rose on tiptoe. With easy strength, he dragged her up his body until the juncture at her thighs met the fullness between his. He wore no codpiece, just the soft buckskin of his hose that covered something harder and hotter. She fought an urge to wrap her legs around his hips, to allow his heat and thickness to rub against her quim, to ask him for what her body demanded. She couldn’t seem to move away, his soft, beguiling voice detailing pleasures of the flesh that he made sound more alluring than she had ever imagined.

“Does he bring you pleasure, Rosalind?” She heard herself moan as his mouth settled on the sensitive skin behind her ear and he kissed his way down to her shoulders.“Or does he simply slake his need on you and leave you wanting?”

She finally found the strength to push him away, to slide down his body and stand on her own, admittedly shaky, legs. He didn’t stop her, allowed her to see the desire in his eyes, the heat and need coursing through his strong frame, the huge bulge in his hose.

Rosalind licked her lips and backed away from him. She’d never understood lust before, never imagined this raging need, this ridiculous urge to throw herself back into his arms and take what he offered, and the consequences be damned.

She shook her head to clear it of the fog of lust.“Stop it.”

A muscle flicked in his cheek. “I know you don’t believe me, but I cannot stop. I wish I could.”

“I can’t…” Goodness, was that her voice? So shaken, so vulnerable, so… afraid. She was never afraid; she couldn’t afford to be in the man’s world she inhabited.

“I could give you pleasure,” he said softly, and held out his hand. “Let me show you.”

She retreated two more steps. “Pleasure is fleeting. No woman wants to be bedded and forgotten the next day.”

“I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget you.” His gaze drifted down and came to rest on her hips. “I suspect I’d never want to leave your body.”

An image of them entwined naked on her bed flashed through Rosalind’s mind, and she immediately banished it. “I’m going to bed.”

He bowed. “As you wish, my lady.”

“Alone.” She clarified, just in case he was still harboring any salacious thoughts of joining her.

“I understood that.”

“I’ll let you know when I hear from my grandfather.”

He shrugged. “If you feel that it is necessary.”

“Or if anything untoward happens.”

“Naturally.”

She paused to stare at him. Was she hoping he’d ignore her request to stay away, and take matters into his own hands? As she walked back toward the stables, she cringed at her own indecision and barely managed to whistle for Rhys.

He appeared in front of her so suddenly she almost gasped. He was still dressed for travel, his clothes dusty and his hat in his hand. His faint smile dimmed as he studied her. He put his hand on her shoulder and drew her back into the shadows of the nearest wall.

“Are you all right?”

She grimaced. “We were attacked by the Vampire in the queen’s apartments.”

“
We?”

“Sir Christopher and I.”

He scowled.“Trust the Druid slayer to be in the thick of things. He stalks you like Vampire prey.”

“Rhys, he simply came with me when I went to check on the queen. Her guards had been bewitched.”

“The queen was unharmed, though?” Rhys crossed himself. “That is good.”

“Yes.” Rosalind repressed a shudder. “Although no thanks to us.The Vampire was there, in her chamber, but chose not to attack her.”

Rhys frowned. “That’s odd. Although we’ve always believed the target is the king, why would the Vampire go to the queen in the middle of the night and
not
attack? Did you find out anything else?”

“The Vampire is female and old. She smelled like orange blossom.”

He nodded. “Excellent. At least you’ll be able to recognize her scent next time you come across her. Although even I know that orange blossom is a commonly used perfume these days at court.”

Rosalind sighed. “And she is powerful enough to conceal herself even from her own kind. We also met with Elias Warner tonight, and he said the Vampire Council agrees that Sir Christopher and I should work together.”

“I’m sure they did.” Rhys’s expression cooled.“They’d be quite happy for you to die for them.”

“I don’t see that I have a choice.”

Rhys met her gaze, his own somber. “Unfortunately, neither do I.”

Rosalind took his gloved hand. “How was your journey?”

“Far less eventful than your evening, it seems. Your letter is on its way to Wales and your grandfather.”

“Thank you.” She squeezed his fingers. “You are far too good to me.”

His smile was guarded. “I was only doing my duty.” He let go of her hand and nodded in the direction of the nearest stall. “I was just settling Geithin and then I was going to bed.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” Impulsively she threw her arms around him, and kissed him on the lips. She felt him stiffen, and held on to him even tighter. Didn’t he understand that she needed him now, needed him to replace the traces of Sir Christopher that lingered? The taste and texture that threatened to overwhelm her senses?

His mouth came down over hers and he kissed her, his hands all over her, his tongue plundering hers. After a moment, though, he raised his head and stepped out of her arms. He slowly wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Don’t do that to me.”

She swallowed hard. “Do what?”

“Kiss me when you still taste of another man.”

Briefly she closed her eyes, ashamed beyond measure. “I’m sorry I did not mean for it to happen. I want to forget all about him— ”

“No, you don’t.” For the first time in her life, she was afraid of Rhys, and of what she had roused. “I saw the way he looked at you— and the way you looked back.”

“But I don’t want to feel like that, and neither does he!”

Rhys regarded her steadily, all signs of emotion now stripped from his face. “Whatever he said to you, Rosalind, he wants you, and I suspect he’ll do anything necessary to bind you to him. And, in the heat of battle, remember, we cannot always help what we feel.” He slid his hand inside his coat and brought out a folded parchment. “This is for you.”

“From my grandfather? Why would he be writing to me so soon?”

“Perhaps he received new information after we’d left.”

“Do you know what it says?”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Despite my jealousy, I haven’t taken to reading your private correspondence, Rosalind.”

She sighed. “I didn’t mean that. I just wondered if he had communicated with you as well.”

“He did.”

“And?”

His smile was wry. “And we’ll discuss it after you’ve read your own letter.” He turned toward the sleeping quarters, one hand shoving back his thick auburn hair. “I’m weary, my lady. Good night.”

Rosalind bit down on her lip. “I’m sorry, Rhys,” she whispered.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t.” She tried to stop her voice from trembling. “I’ve hurt you.”

With a soft sound, he swung around and enfolded her in his arms.“No,
cariad
, it’s not you. It’s this whole cursed situation.” He kissed the top of her head.“You’re as tired as I am. Go to bed. We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

She lifted her head to look him in the eye. He’d called her his darling in Welsh. “You’re sure you’re not angry with me? I couldn’t bear that.”

He smiled, even though it seemed forced. “Let’s talk in the morning, aye? Now, good night.”

She watched him disappear up the stairs and then she headed back toward the queen’s quarters, her thoughts in turmoil. How could she lust after Christopher when she was practically promised to Rhys? And she
was
as good as promised to him, even though he’d told her he would wait for her and never force his claim.

Her steps slowed. Perhaps her attraction to Christopher was because of the danger they’d faced together rather than any true emotion. Her relationship with Rhys felt safer and far more grounded in reality. Rhys might not be able to offer her the delights Sir Christopher promised, but he certainly wouldn’t bring her to her knees either… But did she want to be safe? Had she ever wanted that? She couldn’t even begin to think about Christopher’s pointed comments about the prophecy. Could it really refer to her? Was that why her grandfather had insisted she be the one sent to court as the representative of the Druids, despite being female?

Yet the prophecy mentioned three who would stand alone. Was she inextricably linked with Christopher and Rhys or, even worse, with the Vampire, Elias Warner? Rosalind almost turned back to the stables. Rhys would know where to find an elder of their race she could speak to about the prophecy. Or she could wait for Beltaine and seek out a Druid priest there.

Her eyes strained to catch the faint rays of the sun that now tinted the horizon. She was far too tired to think anymore and could only pray that the morning would bring her better counsel.

Christopher waited until Rosalind disappeared into the gloom, and then checked his bloodied bundle again. The second glove he’d retrieved from the king’s apartments lay on top of the first and matched it completely. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t shown the glove to Rosalind on his return. Had he been concerned she would storm the king’s chambers, dagger raised to defend the sovereign, or had he been trying to protect her again?

Perhaps both. Whatever the Vampire had intended, the king’s apartments were far too busy and well guarded for the creature to get as close to the king as she had gotten to the queen without causing a huge uproar.

He grimaced.All he knew was that Rosalind wouldn’t appreciate him concealing anything from her at all. He headed back toward the ruined building behind the stables and found Elias seated in the same spot he had occupied earlier. He was not alone. His head was bent forward at an angle as if he was whispering something to the young woman kneeling between his thighs. After a moment, Elias sat back. He smiled at Christopher; his long fangs were still extended.

“It’s all right.” He beckoned Christopher forward. “I’ve just fed from her. She’s in a trance.”

Christopher could sense it now—that elusive hint of blood and magic that a Vampire feeding always evoked in his mind.

“Would you like to drink from her? She is free of infection.”

Christopher recoiled. “I am not a Vampire.”

Elias considered him, his head to one side, his immaculate gilded curls barely stirred by the cold wind. “Yet you have Vampire blood in your family.”

“Who told you that?”

“I have known your family for almost three hundred years. Do you think I am not privy to their secrets… such as why you, in particular, hold to the ancient vows of Mithras?” The Vampire’s smile was pitying. “Even those secrets you try so hard to bury with your dead.”

Christopher set his jaw. “I am
not
a Vampire.”

“If you insist.” Elias returned his attention to the young woman whose clothing showed her to be a dairymaid.“My dear, you must leave this place and go to bed. Sleep until dawn and forget everything that has passed between us this night.”

Obediently, the woman stood up, bobbed Elias a curtsy, and headed out of the ruined building, her eyes still glassy and her footsteps uncertain.

Christopher glanced at her as she passed him; the two puncture marks on her neck were still visible. “Will she be all right?”

As Elias’s fangs retracted, he licked a tiny speck of blood from the corner of his newly reddened lips. “Certainly. She’s young and healthy and I took very little from her.”

Christopher tried not to react to Elias’s casual air. Despite all his years among the Vampire kind, he’d never enjoyed watching a Vampire suck blood from another human. He’d told himself that the Druids did much worse, that the Vampires rarely killed and only occasionally made more of their own kind, whereas the Druids practiced ungodly rites, like human sacrifice. But if Rosalind spoke the truth, they no longer practiced that perversion anymore…

“What do you want of me, Sir Christopher?”

Christopher knelt and placed his doublet on the ground, unfolding it to reveal the gloves. Elias leaned forward, his neutral expression dissolving as he inhaled the scent of dried blood.

“What exactly do you have here?”

“A pair of the queen’s favorite gloves. One was nailed to the door of the queen’s bedchamber, the other to the outer door of the king’s inner chambers.”

Elias’s breath hissed out in a vicious curse. He stared at Christopher.“This is intolerable.The Vampire is playing with us all.”

“Are you afraid?”

Elias shuddered. “Of course I am. This Vampire is so powerful it could kill me with a thought.”

“Then why hasn’t it simply gone ahead and killed the king?”

“I don’t think this Vampire is acting in a rational manner, do you? Its aims are illogical and unclear, and that is why the Vampire Council cannot dispatch the problem quietly.” He gestured at the gloves.“These gloves simply illustrate my point.”

“In what way?”

“That isn’t human blood.”

“Then what is it?”

“Vampire. Old Vampire. From the one we seek, I suspect. Can’t you smell it?”

Christopher cautiously inhaled. “It smells like old leather and orange blossom to me.”

Pure speculation flashed in Elias’s silver eyes. “Why, you underestimate your talents, Sir Christopher. Your sense of smell is like a Druid’s.” He fingered the glove. “The Vampire leaves his blood like a dog his piss, to warn others off. This is a challenge.” He paused. “Mayhap your infatuation with Rosalind Llewellyn has affected your senses more than you realize.”