Virgin Star (7 page)

He followed her wide-eyed gaze to discover the genesis of her words. His eyes narrowed as he chuckled meanly at this, probably the last thing he expected from the wench. "I might have known that on top of a battered and beaten bag of bones, the foulest and most ungrateful disposition, you'd be a virgin to boot. Listen, child: where did you come from? I'll pay a handsome sum to send you back—"

She did not wait for him to finish. She sprung high in the air, the first leg lifting her, the second leg kicking up to his stomach. Ever quick, he leaped back just in time; catching her foot in two hands and using brute force, he blocked the thrust of her practiced kick.

Yet she had even more reason to fight now. The giant's amusement, a sound as deep as the ocean and yet as light and carefree as a mockingbird, still sang through the room when her clenched fist shot up to his throat again. He ducked, so her fist hit the hard corner of his chin. The strong grip eased from her foot, which raised in a quick hard punch to his mid-section. She heard his satisfactory grunt as she swung around, meaning to follow through with a series of hard, rapid kicks until the giant dropped. His arm shot out and curved around her waist. He flung her bodily through the air to the bed. Facedown and on her stomach, she. started to roll out of it only to feel his full weight come over her, his huge hands and legs pinning hers.

She felt the great heat of his body, the hideous stiffness of his enlarged loins pressed against her buttocks. She knew fear. Breathing fast and furious, her heart pounding savagely, she held perfectly still, waiting for his next move. It took her by surprise.

She felt the tension in his great muscles, and he held still as if collecting his senses. Then she heard a great husky groan. To her utter shock, he lifted partially from her, separating their bodies by half a pace and releasing her hands but for the briefest moment. She started to roll out from under him but already it was too late, for he tossed her up higher on the bed, spun her around, and neatly, quickly pinned her arms and legs with his, holding her trapped and immobile.

Fear and disbelief mixed as his hard-muscled thighs nudged hers apart and wider still, so that his thighs crossed over hers and his thick shins held hers hard to the bed. Again.

The intimacy of the position felt so queerly, inexplicably embarrassing! Every strained nerve of her body leaped where he touched her, which seemed to be everywhere and all at once. His hard staff burned through the cloth of the nightshirt on her abdomen and stomach, she felt it, while his rib cage brushed against her breasts. That strange tingling congestion rose there again, gathering and growing as she forced herself to met his bright, wild eyes.

"So, my audacious chit, will you answer the question?"

She shook her head, the movement making her aware he had a good portion of her hair caught in his hands.

"You won't say? Why not?"

"I don't know! I am so confused! Who are you?"

"Call me Seanessy." The hazel eyes made a brief study of her lips: wide, sensuous, colored like late summer strawberries, and he groaned, glancing away of necessity. What the devil was the matter with him? Comely, aye, but the rest of her a battered bag of virgin bones. "Dear Lord, where did you come from?" In an apparent shift of subject, "What do you mean, you don't know?".

She shook her head, squirming to escape the unbearable sensations brought by his weight and heat, only to realize this was not a good thing to do. Hot shivers raced down: her spine. "I do not know," she cried breathlessly "I do not know!"

Seanessy focused long enough to grasp what she meant. He would swear she lied, but her own confusion and desperation gave him pause. "Do you mean you truly do not know where you learned the Oriental art?"

She shook her head.

"And how did you land on rny doorstep?"

"Your doorstep? I don't know what you mean! Please," she pleaded, "I am confused. I do not know you or what I am doing here; this situation is so strange to me. Like a nightmare! I woke in a strange room—there is something wrong. Someone is after—" She did not trust him to finish. "I found you sleeping here. I thought I could get answers from you-—''

"By putting a dagger to my throat?" He almost laughed. ''You have a lot of pluck, girl."

"I don't know who you are or what I am doing here. You took my clothes—"

"What? I? Take your clothes?" He looked as if the mere idea offended him, and it did. "I saw what you had to offer, and believe me, it was hardly enough enticement. Besides, nefarious as my reputation is with women, I at least like to know their names before I part them from their clothing. What is your name?"

The awful truth overcame her at last A truth infinitely more terrifying than everything that was happening to her: the giant’s weight or heat, the ease of his humor, or even the oddity of his deformity. The horror seized her, like a jolt into a nightmare played in the light of day.

She did not know her name.

Seanessy saw the alarm in her face and said after a sigh, "L knew you'd be trouble."

He drew a sharp, almost painful breath. He needed to get a grip on the desire her slim form not only incited but somehow kept inflaming. Men were such beasts really, separated from their animal natures by the thinnest of lines—-this unlikely brat was very nearly pushing him over it. He forgave his apparent weakness but only after deciding he'd better send for Molly before seeing his agents.

Returning to the less immediate problem, he offered, "1 found you yesterday, apparently badly used: beaten and half-naked, dropped like a parcel on my doorstep. In your hand was a slip of paper that had my name and address on it."

He watched as she took this in, her expression revealing her shock. "I don't believe you!"

“
Its validity does not depend on your belief. Of course, I've heard a hard blow to the head can result in memory loss, and you have had a mean whack. Though I've never known anyone so unlucky as to actually have it happen to them."

The short speech did not seem to eliminate her terror, and assuming the magnitude of this discovery had subdued her as well, he lifted his weight to touch the visible bump on her head. A mistake, for instantly her elbow shot up to land a hard blow to his chin. He suffered the briefest moment of surprise, which she used to try to scramble out from under his weight, but the beast's speed utterly defied his size. His weight came back solidly, his long forearm pinning the undersides of her arms entirely.

"This has got to stop," and now he meant it.

"I cannot breathe," she lied, desperate to be free. Her body seemed completely untroubled by his deformity, his huge staff pressed hot on her abdomen. A curious tingling tension pulsated from the spot, she felt an almost irresistible urge to writhe and twist beneath him, and it scared her. "I beg you!"

"We've gone from battering to begging me in the space of a moment. Really, I have more fun under cannon fire. Considering how frisky you are in the morning, I'm sure you'll be surprised to know I like a strong cup of tea before I take a beating. Look, I want to let you up, I do. But you will have to promise to behave."

She absorbed part of this speech as he spoke but it required effort. The man's language flew in the same amazing speed with which he moved, all of it dancing, spinning, flying with remarkable agility. She understood only that she'd kill the monster if he let her up and this time she would not underestimate him. She nodded.

The cool air brushed against her skin as Seanessy raised off her, sitting back on the bed, needing a good long minute to recover and trying to ease the ache and the inexplicable race of his pulse.

"So which was it: you do not know or you will not-"

A rock hard heel landed; in the vulnerable spot beneath his ribs. Then another and another. Seanessy grunted again, the last grunts expelled with a soft curse. His hand snaked out to catch her foot, but too late. She leaped from the bed and stood poised, obviously ready to fight.

He came off the bed so quick and fast, she had not time to take a single step back. Mercilessly strong arms seized her weight and stopped her scream as he tossed her back to the bed and hard, knocking the wind from her lungs. Before she could even think to roll out, his weight returned. "Another forfeit," he said, piqued and irritated.

"Now listen," he said in the tone of an exasperated parent. "I am going to let you up. But if I have to chase you around the room or tackle you again, I'll know that—virgin or no—you enjoy it, that what you really want is the consequences of romping half-naked with a man with a good deal of heat in his loins. Understood?"

She realized he awaited her nod. She gave it, buying time and trying to guess his next move. To her surprise, he lifted his weight and eased his back against the headboard again. After a moment's incomprehension, she came quickly off the bed and backed away.

"I give up," he said as he returned to the half-eaten apple and bit into it. "Perhaps you can tell me why you are so bent on mistrust? Is there a reason, or is this a routine you go through with all the lucky men in your life?"

"I do not know who you are! You say your name but it means nothing to me." The palm of her hand went to her forehead again, and she rubbed as if trying to stir life back into a stiff limb. She whispered, "I don't know what I am doing here. I don't even know my name."

Her fear softened the worst of his annoyance and exasperation. "You really don't, do you? Well, you must remember something." Hoping to hear some place he could send her off to, he asked, "How about where you're from?"

She realized she did not know where she had been born, who her parents were, if she even had parents, a brother or a sister or a pet, a dog or a bird. "I don't know! It's as if there is a black empty space in my mind and I try to look through it ..." She paused, struggling, expecting her memory to return any moment, certain it would return and this, the man and this house, the whole upside-down world would make sense to her.

In the void that followed, the questions ignited a panic.

Dear Lord, who were her parents? Where had she been born? Did she have a brother or sister, two or ten or none?

She had known loneliness, at least she thought so, but even in the seclusion of the darkest isolation one always had the company and comfort of memory. Of self. This loneliness was awesome in its reach, and nothing existed besides the fear, the certainty that someone chased her! That being caught meant her death!

She felt dizzy, and a feverish wave of heat washed over her—

She tried to fight the swoon and the brief struggle saved her, for it gave Seanessy—-ever quick—-enough time to jump from the bed to her side. He caught her up in his arms, grateful to spare the girl another head injury, the last thing she needed.

He set her gently on the bed. "Easy," he said as she watched him through a gray fog that dissipated slowly as she drew deep breaths. "No more acrobatics today. Are you thirsty?"

She nodded, realizing it as he asked.

He poured her a glass of water at the table and returned to the bedside, where he indulgently held it to her lips. Small pale hands circled the glass, and for a moment he studied them. Delicate hands, unaccustomed to labor.

Her voice too, said she belonged to the clerical class.

"Are you able to breakfast, do you think?"

He did not wait for a response as, still impervious to his nakedness, he moved to the marble fireplace and rang a long gold rope to summon a servant. She studied the blond hair brushing his broad muscular shoulders and back, tapering to a lean waist and firm buttocks before her gaze traveled down the long length of his legs.

He was a danger! Lake a great Nordic god, he was!

The idea made her blush hot and she tried to look away, but a queer fascination kept her eyes on him. She swallowed, watching as he went to the dressing table and began to bathe. She half expected to hear the deep timbre of his voice raised in song, his manner seemed so carefree—as if he had not a trouble in the world!

Seanessy disappeared into the huge clothes closet, and she forced herself to drink the rest of the water. The effort she put to the simple task told her she had been through much. Not that she needed any more evidence.

What had happened to her?

She felt her bruised ribs and saw the smaller bruise on her thigh. Bruised by blows. He said she had been brought to his doorstep naked, beaten, and unconscious. Could that be true? Who had brought her? Why?

What was her name?

She didn’t know her name ...

He returned with black trousers, the kind that strapped to feet, and a loose white riding shirt. He sat on the bed to pull on his boots. Her lids lowered as she felt a quickening of heart brought by his nearness. How strangely he affected her!