One Snowy Knight (24 page)

Noel gave him a lopsided smile. “I appreciate you at my back, if you are sure it will not cause sore feelings with Lady Rowanne.”

His friend shrugged. “I would delight to know Rowanne missed me and was upset I was not there. I suspect she wishes I just would go away and cease to bedevil her. Mayhap absence will make her heart long for my return.” He raised his brows in doubt. “Mayhap not. Go seek your rest. ’Tis early still.”

Noel nodded. “Excellent suggestion.”

As Guillaume walked away, Noel turned to look back at him. He felt sorrow in him that his friend believed Lady Rowanne harbored resentment for his coming to Lochshane. Later, he would ask Skena about the woman, her cousin. To Noel it was easy to see that his friend was in love with the distant lady, and he hoped they would find a bridge over their differences.

Loving Guillaume as a brother, he wanted only happiness for him. Guillaume, too, had been a warrior for so long. His friend needed peace, a place of his own. Since finding love with Skena, he would wish the same joy to all the battle-weary dragons of Challon.

Entering the chamber, Noel walked to the fireplace, picked up the poker, and prodded the flames into life. Plagued by the troubles stalking Craigendan, his mind could find no peace. Since quick answers to the dilemma were not rising in his thoughts, he was relieved Guillaume had offered to stay for a spell longer. The men of Challon had survived enemies and warfare all these years by watching each other’s backs.

“This will be yet another time when brother stands with brother,” he whispered to the flickering fire.

Staring intently into the yellow and blue flames, as if the answers to his questions lay in the dancing lights, he failed to notice Skena had awakened until she slid her arms around his waist from behind. He gave a faint start, surprised his warrior’s sense had not detected her presence until she touched him. Dismissing that unease, he smiled as she leaned along his back and hugged him. Skena pressed flush against his body, allowing the fullness of her breasts to mold to the columns of his back. The baize chemise did little to shield her softness from his flesh.

Taking hold of her lower arms, he unwrapped her hold about his waist. Not completely, just enough to pull her around to face him. “I wanted you to sleep,” he said, then kissed the side of her forehead.

Skena looked up, a drowsy expression in her brown eyes. “You went away and took all that wonderful heat from our bed. Now I feel chilled. I recall you saying there were other ways for a woman to warm a man’s blood. Faster ways. Do those tricks work for a man to warm a woman’s blood?”

He smiled and tugged her tighter to him. “I believe ’tis the same for a man or a woman.”

She rubbed against him like a cat, as though she could not get close enough. “Show me, Noel,” she whispered, tilting her mouth up to his.

Skena ignited a blaze in his groin, the sensation flowing outward like molten iron within his blood, a ravenous, clawing need, a force the likes he had never experienced before. Craving pounded through his mind, blotted out reason, leaving it hard to focus on anything except how soft her lips were, how he wanted to taste them.

“’Tis taxing to be honorable, lass, with you against me like this. ’Tis different for a woman. A man’s blood rules at such times. Age old instincts drive us, push us. The quickening in the blood turns animalistic. Once the beast within us slips the leash, ’tis not easy to remember soft words.” Noel struggled to hold on to the last shred of his sanity, as the scent of her skin filled his mind with intoxicating Skena.

“And you tell me this to say ’tis a bad thing, my lord?” A playful glint reflected in her huge eyes. She pushed up on tiptoes to brush her mouth lightly against his. “And when am I to get my much needed kissing lessons?”

“You play with fire, lass,” he nearly hissed when she put her hands on his waist and slowly snaked them up his bare chest.

He tensed, every muscle rigid as though he were turning to steel. The desire was too strong in him, overpowering any sense of control. A smart man, he wanted this first time with the woman he loved to be special, to brand Skena so that she would never want another man’s touch. Still, he needed more. He was determined to sear the memory of Fadden from her soul, rid her of the old memories and replace them with images of their being together.

“Fire warms….” She pressed her lips against his again.

He grinned. “Nay, fire…
burns.”

As he lowered his head, his mouth took hers. No more playful kisses. He let loose the rapacious force tearing at his insides. No gentle lessons as he had planned to share with her.

He wanted. He took. And took.

He feared shocking her by the near violence of his hunger. Undeterred, her fingers curled around the back of his upper arms as though seeking purchase to hang on. His embrace dropped around her lower back and arched her body against his, letting that soft curve at the apex of her thighs feel the throbbing need she provoked within him. Not frightened by the intensity of the kiss, or the blatant demand of his body, she twined her arms behind his neck and then used the leverage to rub against his groin.

Breaking the kiss, she panted out, “Then, my love, burn me.”

Noel felt he was the one burning! “So be it. I want to make all your wishes come true.”

Kissing her again, he itched to reach down, grab her thighs, and wrap her strong legs around his waist. Though he was lost in the raging passion, he knew better than to do so; after carrying her down from the bastion earlier, the slightest movement saw his back remind him not to be so foolish again. The wound ached despite the unyielding mating drive taking the edge off the pain. Instead of following the impulse, he spun them toward the bed, nearly dancing her across the floor until her hips made contact with the high frame.

He paused, staring down into Skena’s face, held enthralled by her pagan beauty. Not perfumed or bedecked as the fancy ladies at court, yet she was worth a hundred score of them. Skena was simple, honest, and loving. That love shone in her luminous brown eyes.

The way she stared at him humbled Noel in a fashion he could not put into words. He wanted to fall to his knees and worship her, honor her for giving him something he had never had. Still, the awe of his love pulsed as a fever in his blood, expressing itself in a desire that was near blinding.

As he put his hands around her waist, her mouth turned down at one corner. Troubled by her expression, he asked, “Skena, what upsets you?”

One shoulder gave a small shrug, then she looked down to avoid meeting his questioning stare. “Tis naught.”

“We are betrothed. We should begin as we mean to go on our journey together, thus speaking truths between us is a must.”

Her chin lifted. Skena being brave. “You spoke I was too skinny. Worse, if I am in dire need of those kissing lessons, I fear what you will think of the…rest.”

Noel could not help but laugh. It was soft, not mocking, a simple expression of his happiness bubbling forth. Her frown deepened. She looked to one side, then the other, ready to burst into tears. Instead, she lifted her fisted hand to his chest as if to pound on him; it fell with only the faintest of thuds.

“De Servian…” His name came out with a choked sob. “You are an insensitive swine.”

“I choose to ignore that. You are thin because you went without supping to save food for others to survive. Now there will be plenty of rations for Craigendan, I shall spend the winter plumping you up. And I pointed out the slightness of your body not because it was unpleasing to me, but simply because I was scared that you might be ill. I have promised you lessons in kissing. As for the
rest,
that tends to be a result of the kissing lessons. Lass, lass, oh lass…”

He brushed his mouth tenderly against hers, savored the sweet taste with the hint of mead still on her lips. Lifting his head, he watched the reactions play out in the brown eyes, the awe, the wonder. He tasted her again, deepening it just a bit. As he felt her hunger rise from the contact, he once more pulled back.

“Teaching you the ways of pleasure will be my greatest joy. Howbeit, it will require many lessons, long lessons.”

Skimming his hands down to her hips, he squeezed the firm roundness of her buttocks, relished how his palms cupped the curves of her flesh. Then with a quick jerk, he lifted and gave her a small toss onto the bed’s plane. “Lay there, do not move, or I shall beat you.” He sat down on the bed and began unlacing his hose.

“What if I wiggle my toes? That is moving. Will that require you to beat me?” She pushed the point by tickling the side of his thigh with her foot, toes squirming.

“It might.” His eyes danced over her body caressed by the shadows. He climbed upon the high bed, moving to her on his hands and knees. Placing a knee on either side of her thighs, he loomed over her. The primitive male in him relished seeing Skena under him, hungered for her surrender. In the gossamer chemise, nothing was hidden from his hungry eyes. The darker tips of her breasts drew his desire to where he could hardly look to anything else.

Finally raising his head, he said softly, “The first law of kissing is that kisses are not just for the lips.” He nibbled gently at the edge of her small, full mouth. “But can be placed anywhere.”

“Anywhere?” she chirped.

He nodded slowly. “Any…where.”

To prove his words, he shifted down her body to reach the tip of her left breast. He kissed the stiff point, nuzzling it, then watched her eyes widen. Leaning back, he took the tip into his mouth and sucked hard. Even through the worn night rail he could feel the changes, signaling the depth of her arousal. As the tiny bud jutted more, he raked the edge of his teeth over the sensitive flesh, pushing her responses higher.

Giving rein to the wildness pulsing within him, he took hold of the garment and ripped it from the neck down to her belly. Her full breasts lay bare before him, the deep shadows flowing around their perfection. Her breasts grew tighter, heavier, evidence of her deep desire for him; the dusky areolas were tight, pushing the nipples into tight nubbins.

In stunned awe, he uttered, “Oh…so…beautiful.”

His hands around her neck, his thumbs lightly stroked along the column of her throat, moving downward. Skena sucked in a ragged breath of anticipation, knowing where the path his hands were taking would end. They slid across her square, proud shoulders and finally to the upper slopes of her smooth breasts. Once again, she drew in sharply, her spine arching, almost as if offering the pale mounds to him in a silent plea.

“You wish something, Skena?” he tormented.

She swallowed hard and then nodded. “Touch me. Put your hands on me.”

He smiled deviously, then leaned to her and touched his mouth against hers, then asked, “My hands? Or my mouth?”

“Either…both.” She trembled with the need clawing its way through her body.

“I intend to grant all your wishes, my lady.” His tongue swirled out and around the stiff peak. In response she shivered and then closed her eyes, obviously riding the crest of the conflagration he set loose within her flesh. He drew heavily upon it, suckling until her breath was harsh, raspy. Before moving to the other one to give it the same attention, he commanded, “Open your eyes, Skena. I want to share this joining with you, see the emotions reflected in your haunting depths.”

Her long lashes raised, showing her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. The warmth in her gaze bespoke of love, of a soul-deep need for him, almost as if her mind reached out and touched his, whispering to him with this kenning. He had not considered that until now. When his wound had been lanced, he had invited her to walk in his mind. Would that ability increase the pleasure threshold for her, as she could also feel what he experienced?

His lips closed over hers once more. Slanting his angle, he worked her mouth, giving her those lessons of pleasure, how enjoyable it could be between them. His control shattered as the kisses went on. And on. Noel felt a low moan echo within his chest, then another, yet was unsure if the second sound came from him or Skena—little cared as he kept kissing her, she kissing him. Her hand came up and fisted in the curls at the back of his neck, as if she needed an anchor not to be swept away on the storm of emotions.

Heat rolled off their flesh, blistering them, as the kiss deepened, more demanding. His tongue pressed along the seam of her lips, compelling her to open for him. Skena’s body flexed in shock, then desire, as she quickly learned the rhythm, the play.

Leaving them both breathless, his mouth moved along her jaw, then down the side of her neck. He paused to lave his tongue against the spot where her pulse jumped in a pagan rhythm. A tattoo as old as time. Her heart slammed against her ribs, the force felt against his chest. The power of this magic between them was beyond measure.

Sliding down the bed, he dragged her under him, his solid weight pressing her into the soft feathered bedding. Her body conformed to his solid planes, rounded softness meeting his hardness in perfection. He was heavy, he knew, yet she seemed to want the sensation, the total surrender.

For an instant out of time, he paused to stare at her face. Then his fingers splayed over her belly and then snaked lower to shift through soft curls at the apex of her thighs. Damp from her body’s desire. Preparing her for his invasion. Kissing her, he moaned as he slid a finger into her, then two, then her hips bucked in reaction as he stretched her body.

Almost an echo of the dream.

“Please…” She seemed unable to gasp anything further.

Taking Skena’s hands, he interlaced his fingers with hers and pushed them up beside her head, while aligning his body to hers. His throbbing erection nudged against her opening, moistening the tip with the silken honey flowing from her body.

He tried to speak, but found the muscles of his throat would hardly work. “Look into my eyes, Skena,” he ordered, his voice rough. “You
are
my wish. I want you to see my face as I join with you.”

His male hardness stretched her. Both agony and ecstasy, he pushed into her scalding heat. The fullness caused her to take short breaths; he kissed her over and over, easing her mind until her body accepted his blunt presence within her. Slowly she relaxed, and her slick channel allowed him to slide in even deeper.

“Fire magic,” she gasped. “You indeed burn me.”

“’Tis just the start, lass.”

Lifting his hips, he set his swollen flesh to stroke inside her again, going even deeper. Each thrust strengthened, quickened. Her hands clung to his back, her fingernails biting into the flesh of his shoulders. Then clinging did not seem enough. Skena picked up his rhythm, arching to meet his frenzied thrusts. Their mating grew as wild and furious as a summer storm.

Skena cried out at the same instant that Noel’s body exploded into a thousand white-hot cinders, nearly blinding him. Grabbing her tighter, he pulled her into a maelstrom of their passion, the scorching heat of his seed pouring into her body.

It took many labored breaths before the racing of his heart slowed. To Skena’s surprise, he rolled again, taking her with him, until she was sitting astride his hips. He laughed at her befuddled expression.