Passion's Twins (7 page)

Moaning, she thrust her hips up, groaning when he lapped her
from her opening to her nubbin. The heat threatened to engulf her. Little mews
of
Sweet God, how good…
escaped her lips. Grew louder as the pleasure
increased.

“Let your juices flow for me, Rowena. Give me your sweet essence.”

He stroked her nipples. She shattered.

“Which tree? Bartholomew’s balls! Which tree?”

Edina felt a rush of air before she heard it. She started to
turn, but a deep voice warned, “Look straight ahead.” She felt something sharp
press against her spine and feared she might faint.

“Gerard?” Her voice shook as badly as her knees.

“If it pleases you, by all means call me Gerard.”

The soft voice held the trace of an accent. Was it truly a
stranger who held her at knifepoint? Or was this Gerard’s way of punishing her
for the tricks she and Rowena had played on the brothers? If Gerard, how did he
know? Could he truly tell her from Rowena?

“Close your eyes, Edina.”

“Why?”

“’Twill go better if you refrain from asking questions. Just
do what I tell you.”

His voice sounded so cold, Edina shivered. “V-Very well. My
eyes… I have closed them.”

“Don’t move.”

“All right.”

A soft cloth fell over her head and covered her face.
Gasping, she raised her hands to her head.

“Leave it!”

“I cannot breathe.”

“You can. Calm yourself. Take a deep breath. Yes, like that.
Better?”

“A little. ‘Twould be better still if you would face me like
a man.”

A chuckle revealed her captor now stood in front of her.

“Hold out your hands, palms together.”

“Why?”

He growled. She obeyed, hating that her hands shook. She
could feel them!

Something wound around her wrists. Not a rope—’twas too soft
for hemp—but it felt unbreakable.

“If you struggle to free yourself, Edina, the knots will tighten.”

“What do you want of me, sir?”

He ran his hands down her arms, tugged on her bound hands.
“What does any man want from a beautiful woman? A bit of conversation. A kiss
or two.”

She stumbled and fell against him.

“A few hours of loving.”

“You,” she licked her dry lips, “you mean to rape me?”

“Nay. I mean to arouse you to the point that you will beg me
to take you. And then—when we lie replete with pleasure—I shall begin again.
You will beg again.”

She heard leaves rustle. Dread filled her heart. Was he
leading her under a willow? Perhaps the very willow where she and Gerard had
first made love?

“Sir…I beg you
now
. Please do not do this.”

“Why not?” He pressed her shoulder. She sank to her knees
then collapsed around herself.

“B-Because—if you rape me—I shall never again make love with
the man I love. You will shame me. Make me feel unclean. Unworthy.”

Gerard, grasping her elbows, raised her to her feet. She was
shaking from head to foot, her trembling so intense she could barely stand.
He’d wanted to dissuade her from playing games, not frighten her like this.
Sighing, he admitted he’d also wanted to prove to himself that she would be
faithful to him once they married. That even in the dark she would not mistake
Edgar for her husband.

‘Tis far more likely we would mistake our wives
, he
thought, freeing her hands.

“Sweeting,” he murmured as he also removed the hood from her
head, “I did not mean to frighten you.”

Even in the dim light, he could see tears brimming in her
lovely eyes. Her lower lip quivered as well, making him silently curse himself.

Her deep sigh lifted her shoulders and her pert breasts
poked her bliand’s thin linen. The thought of those sweet orbs filling his
hands distracted him. Left him completely unaware of her intent to deliver a
stinging slap to his cheek.

“Then why did you do this to me?”

Rubbing his cheek, he shrugged. “’S’truth, it seemed a good…
I see now it wasn’t a good idea at all.”

She glared at him and tapped her toes against the ground.
She did not call him a liar, but he could see the thought in her cold
expression.

“I…I thought you might enjoy a game of slap and tickle.”

“’Twasn’t slap and— You made me believe you would rape me!”

“Which I sorely regret.”

“Which, I suppose, is as close to an apology I can expect.”

Ignoring her oblique demand for “I’m sorry”, he said, “I
intended to reveal myself before I—before we made love.”

When she snorted her disbelief, he lost control of his
temper and shouted, “I did not mean to frighten you!”

“Well, you did!” she shouted back.

No slip of a girl was going to wring an apology from him! “What
about all the times you’ve deceived me? You and your sister—pretending to be
each other, trying to make fools of Edgar and me. What about that?”

Bright red tinged her face—temper or embarrassment, he
neither knew nor cared.

“H-How long have you known?” she finally said.

“Does it matter?” He crossed his arms over his chest and
glared. Seeing her shoulders slump, sensing she hovered at the edge of
surrender, he took her hands. Her fingers tensed but she didn’t pull away. “Sweeting…I
only wanted to heighten your awareness of my touch. Deprived of sight, I
believe you would better enjoy my scent, the sound of my voice, the taste of
your juices on my lips and tongue, the way my shaft feels sliding in and out of
your sweet, slick queynte.”

She shivered. He knew ‘twas not fear, but excitement coursing
through her.

“Will you play that game with me, Edina?”

She met his gaze, looked down then up at him once more. “Will
you remove the hood the instant I ask? Will you untie my hands when I wish them
unbound?”

“I’ve no desire to frighten you again. What I do desire is
to pleasure you again and again.”

“I could simply keep my eyes closed. I could pretend my
hands are bound.”

“You could, aye.”

Once more she looked away. For an interminable time, he
thought she would say nothing more. He believed kissing her would bring her to
a quick decision but, unable to tell whether she would accept his kisses or not,
he waited.

“It wouldn’t be the same, would it? Pretending, I mean.”

“No.”

She raised her hands, holding her wrists together. “Very
well, Gerard, I’ll play your game.”

His held breath soughed out.

“But if you frighten me again…”

“I promise I shan’t.”

“Or fail to bring me pleasure, I shall have Yvonne slice you
into little pieces then feed you to her hounds.”

Although she made the threat in a mild voice, Gerard
believed her. His shaft and balls—believing as well—drew upward. Braving her
rebuff, he stroked a finger down her soft cheek. “You may stop me whenever you
wish.”

Edina gazed into his earnest face and saw the truth in his
eyes. Besides, she admitted as he retrieved the hood, she wanted his
lovemaking. Craved it and him. Lusted for him and everything he’d promised to
give her.

Dangling the mask from his fingertips, he smiled down at
her. “May I kiss you first?”

“Yes.”
Please, please, please
, she thought, rising on
her tiptoes and wreathing her arms around his neck.

He brushed his lips over hers. Moist and soft, they returned
to linger. She slid her fingers into his hair, pressed his head to bring his
lips more firmly to hers, parted her own lips to welcome his tongue inside her
mouth.

While he made love to her—
soon, please!
—she would
remember his expression at this moment. Tenderness and desire mixed together.
Determination and shyness. Need and longing to match her own.

Pulling back to look into his eyes, she nodded. He eased the
hood over her head.

“I’ll leave your hands free.” She felt a chuckle rumble
through his chest. “In case you cannot resist touching me while I touch
you…everywhere.”

Today, hoping she and Gerard would make love, she’d dressed
with special care. Beneath her sleeveless yellow serge surcote, she wore a
blousy smock and a kirtle in deep green samitel—the fabric so fine it looked
and felt like satin. Pearls were woven into the snood in which Joan had
confined her hair. Now, with infinite care, Gerard unfastened the jeweled morse
holding her surcote closed at her waist. Drifted his fingers over her cheeks
and down her neck to untie her linen smock.

“I would free your hair except…” His low chuckle whispered
along her naked shoulders. “I suspect I could not stuff it back again.”

“Best leave the snood as it is,” she murmured, wondering if
he too imagined a different kind of
stuffing
.

A calloused finger touched the birthmark on her left
shoulder. Her lover chuckled as his fingers drifted to her swelling breasts.
Afraid to break the spell his touch wove around her, Edina took a cautious
breath. Her breasts seemed to rush into his hands.

For a long, breathless moment he simply held them while her
nipples hardened against his palms.

“You like this,” he muttered. The satisfaction in his voice
made her grind her teeth.

“’Tis an involuntary response. Most likely due to the cooler
air on them.”

“Hmmm.”

His hair—stubble?—scraped gently over her skin. He shifted
his grasp until she could feel her breasts touch each other. His tongue lapped
each nipple in turn. Her legs began to tremble and her juices seeped between
her nether lips.

“You cannot blame this on cool air. You enjoy my tasting
you.”

She bit her lower lip, but her moan escaped.

“You dressed for me,” he said. She felt her kirtle slide
down her legs and pool around her ankles.

One large, warm, calloused hand stroked down her belly.
Gooseflesh rose all over her body. Too late she recognized the advantage her
spread stance gave him. Closing her legs only pressed his hand more tightly
against her tuft. His finger slipped easily inside.

She groaned, widening her stance once more. Everything in
her seemed to center on his finger as it slid in and out of her moistening channel.

“Ah,” he said, his voice husky. “Here it is. This little
button inside your sweet core that brings you the greatest pleasure.”

He withdrew. She cried out, frustration and desire in her
voice.

“Will you blame cool air for
this
, Edina?”

“Y-You know I cannot.”

“At last! Honesty.”

She felt tears seep down her cheeks. Helpless to do more
than brush her hood against them, she straightened, her legs now closed against
intrusion.

A faint rustling reached her ears. Was he leaving her? Now
when her traitorous body most needed him inside her? Cock or finger or clever
tongue, she wanted release from this sweet torment.

His naked arms slipped around her. Relieved, she relaxed
against him and felt his cock throb against her belly.

“You are very tall, m’lord,” she murmured, more than willing
to continue this game.

“You are very short, m’lady. But now,” he lifted her, laid
her on the soft but firm ground, “the difference in our heights won’t matter.”
He sucked one breast and pinched the other nipple.

Pleasure and pain wrested a gasp from her.

“Spread your legs, Edina.”

She shook her head but her body obeyed. More than she wanted
her next breath, she wanted Gerard inside her.

He moved away. Bereft without his warmth, she shivered.

Feeling his hands on her legs, she almost sobbed in relief.
When he spread her nether lips, desire and embarrassment heated every pore in
her body.

“Next time,” he whispered against her nub, “I shall insist you
hold yourself open. For now…” He lapped from her channel to her nubbin. “Beg,
Edina. Beg me to swive you and I shall take us both to heaven.”

Her “No-o-o” sounded more like a plea for him to continue
the sweet torment.

He lapped, plunged his tongue deep. His finger teased her ring
then filled her there.

“Have mercy, sir!”

“Beg!”

“Yes! Take me. I want you to…sweet heaven! Swive me. Please.
Please. Swive me, Gerard! Please!”

“I will, Edina. But first I want your sweet juices in my
mouth.”

As if the words had destroyed restraint, spasms racked her
body. Wave after wave after wave crashed over and through her. She would die
from this—this release she wanted to end yet prayed would go on forever.

“Gerard!” Her voice sounded raw.

Her spasms had only begun to lessen when he filled her. They
began again and went on until he shouted her name. Tearing the hood off her
head, he plunged his tongue into her welcoming mouth and buried his erupting shaft
deep inside her.

* * * * *

Edgar buried his nose in the fragrant cloud Rowena’s hair
made over the pillows beneath her head.

“You smell different than Edina.”

“Should I feel jealous? What do you mean—different how?”

“No, and I don’t know. Just…different. Not that your sister
smells bad. Just…”

“Different. I think you smell her paints and whatever she
uses to clean her brushes. Which—if you are wise—is all you will say about
Edina.”

“Then I shall say that you, my dear Rowena, smell like
violets. Or is it roses I smell on your breasts?” He nuzzled the underside of
each breast. She giggled. Giggled, by damn! As if she might confuse him even
now with her sister’s laugh—with her naked body exposed to his gaze and his
hands.

“You claim you don’t want to talk about Edina. Yet you seek
to convince me you are she and not yourself. Not Rowena.”

“’Twas not duplicity, Edgar. Your hair tickled me.”

“Which hair? That on my head?” He drew her hand down his
chest to the nest of coarse curls surrounding his rigid cock. “Or the hair
here?”

As her fingers curled gently around him, his breath caught.
When they dipped lower to cup his balls, he swallowed a groan of pleasure. Since
she still wore the blindfold, he could not see her eyes. Instead he gauged her
feelings by how her body reacted.

Her tongue darted out, stroked her lips only to disappear
again. Her breasts seemed to swell and her nipples pearled. She took shallow
breaths as if afraid to take a deeper gulp. Her belly—flat and firm—fluttered
as if his babe already grew within it. Her legs shifted restlessly, drawing his
gaze to her nether curls. Flaxen silk only slightly darker than the hair on her
head hid her sex from his sight.