Kiss of the Rose (33 page)

Her eyes softened and she sighed as he drew her into his arms. “It felt that way to me too.”

He kissed her forehead just below her pearl-edged hood. “It’s certain our families will object to the king’s edict, but I’m not sure how they are going to break it without offending him. Mayhap we will find ourselves married indeed.”

She shoved at his chest.“You are the most provoking and contrary of men.”

“How so?”

“Because before the king declared we should marry, you seemed content to walk away from me.”

“I certainly wasn’t content, my lady. I was simply trying to do the right thing.” His smile was inviting as he took her hands in his. “But as we are now betrothed, it is only right that we enjoy the liberties that exalted position offers.”

He slid a finger under her chin to raise her face to his and kissed her mouth, kissed her again until she opened her lips and let him inside. When he finally pulled away, she was gasping.

“They’ll never let us marry.”

He met her gaze, his own unflinching.“I know, but for this one night, let us forget that.”

She scowled at him. “You have behaved abominably. Why should I forgive you anything?”

“You shouldn’t.” He smiled into her eyes. “Yet in my heart, I am convinced that you will make the effort to understand my fears and forgive them.” For a moment he rested his forehead against hers. “As you said yourself— you know me.”

She sniffed. “You are conceited. And overconfident.”

“Aye.” He kissed her nose. “You were right to choose Rhys. You are a brave, shrewd warrior, whereas I behaved like a complete fool.”

She gazed up at him. “I like it when you apologize, especially when you agree that you have been foolish.”

“I thought you might.”

Rhys reentered the room. “I talked to the king and…” He grinned at Rosalind, who snatched her hands out of Christopher’s grasp. “Are you playing fast and loose with my affections again, my lady?”

“No, she is simply enjoying her brief betrothal to me,” Christopher answered for her. “We both know that it cannot stand.”

Rhys nodded. “The king has agreed that the wedding can be delayed until both families have a chance to receive the news.That, at least, gives us a few weeks. It will take some clever plotting and some substantial gifts to get the king to release you from the betrothal. Both of your families are skilled at such negotiations, but it will take time.” He bowed to Rosalind. “The king also told me that he expects you both at his table this evening at dinner. I suggest you act suitably overjoyed.”

Rosalind narrowed her eyes at him. “You seem remarkably cheerful for a man whose intended wife has just become betrothed to another man.”

Rhys studied them both, his expression serious. “Make no mistake, my lady, I want you, and I am willing to wager that in the end I will have you.”

“You are far more patient than I, sir,” Christopher said.“I do not know if I could wait for the lady one more day.”

Rosalind cleared her throat. “And I am not a bone to be fought over. I will decide where my heart lies and to whom I will eventually plight my troth.”

Rhys bowed.“We will leave on the morrow. Bring her to me in the stables at first light.”

“Aye,” Christopher agreed. “I’ll keep her safe till then.”

Rhys extended his hand and they shook. “And I will do the same thereafter,” he said.

Rosalind ran to Rhys and wrapped her arms around him.“Thank you,” she whispered.“I do not deserve such kindness.”

He kissed her cheek and held her away from him. “That is true. Perhaps I will find another wench who will torment me more than you, and marry her instead.”

She smiled at him. “Mayhap you should.”

Rhys bowed once more and left her with Christopher, who reclaimed her hand. “I had better pack my belongings.” He grimaced. “I expect my uncle will be seeking an explanation of my latest misconduct.”

“At least now you have your own land and home to escape to, my lord.”

“I’d forgotten that.” He smiled. “Now go and pack, and I’ll come and call for you before the banquet. Wear your best gown and let’s pretend we really are celebrating our betrothal.”

The banquet passed in a swirl of toasts and congratulations. Christopher stayed by her side, a constant reassuring presence, his hand in hers, their fingers entwined, the promise of further joys in his every look and word.

Together they walked up the stairs to her room and Christopher locked the door behind him. He came across the small space to her and dropped to his knees. Apart from the moonlight, only a single candle illuminated the chamber. In its flickering light, Rosalind stroked the blue-black of his hair with her fingertips.

“Let me worship you tonight, my lady. Let me show you how I would love you if we were to remain together for all our natural lives.”

He took his time removing her cumbersome clothing, so much time that Rosalind grew impatient. But he would not be hurried, his intention to enjoy every inch of her skin with his mouth and his hands evident in each slow caress and gentle touch. She moaned as he kissed her knee, untied her garter, and rolled down her stocking. She wanted his hands higher, wanted him pressing her down into the soft feather mattress, and wanted to drown there with him in a sea of sensation.

“Rosalind.”

She managed to open her eyes to watch him shed his long shirt and bare his muscular chest, reached out to touch the hard planes of his furred stomach. He caught her hands and laid her more fully back on the bed and came down over her. His bare legs rubbed against hers and she shifted restlessly against him.

She lay as quietly as she could while he took down her hair and spread it on the pillow around her. His delight in the task was evident both in his total absorption and the look of awe on his face.

“You are beautiful, my lady.”

“So are you.”

“Flatterer.” He chuckled and kissed a path down the side of her throat until she was arching up beneath him. The rasp of his tight beard against her breast and the hot wetness of his tongue as it closed around her nipple made her clutch at his hair. He murmured his approval against her flesh and continued suckling, drawing her other nipple to a hard, aching point between his finger and thumb.

By the lady, she wanted to open her legs to him, to feel him there, hot and hard and ready to penetrate her already wet and swollen quim. His hand drifted down over her hip and curved inward toward the juncture of her thighs.

“Please, Christopher…”

He made soothing noises against her breasts as his long fingers discovered the lush secrets of her hidden flesh, and he slowly rubbed her bud. She rose against his hand, no longer capable of lying so quiescently. His mouth moved lower until he was kissing her belly, and then lower still to tangle with his own fingers to probe and suck at her most intimate and sensitive flesh.

“Don’t stop,” Rosalind managed to gasp as she threaded her fingers back through his crow black hair and held on tight. “I need…”

But he knew what she needed, coaxed her pleasure from her with his mouth and his fingers, and then did it again and again until she was screaming his name. He grabbed her flailing hand and wrapped it around his prick. She gasped as his thick, wet length surged between her fingers and she gripped him even harder.

“Don’t make me spill yet, love.” He groaned. “I want to be in you.”

He reversed his position and was suddenly looming over her, his legs between hers and his face inches from her own. “I love you, Rosalind. Let me show you how much.” He angled his hips and his prick slid over her wet, waiting quim. “Let me inside you.”

She reached down between their bodies to grasp his shaft and guided him where she needed him to be. He whispered her name like a benediction as he slowly pushed inside and filled her completely. “Give me your mind, as well, love. Let’s make this the perfect union of body and soul.”

“I love you, Christopher.”

His smile was beautiful to her. “I know.”

Willingly, she opened herself to him though her torrent of lust, love, and grief was so powerful she feared it would overwhelm him. But she found the same in him, and worried no more. He took her mind as he took her body, completely, carefully, and with a reverence that undid her so she wanted to hold nothing back from him. In his arms, she could be soft and feminine, and yet she knew he would never use those things against her, that he loved her purely and simply for herself.

He started to move faster, his long, even strokes becoming shorter as he gathered her to him and pumped hard. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and took every shuddering breath and jolt, clung to him like waterweed and felt his pleasure shoot through him as if it were her own.

She held him tight when he collapsed against her breasts, and let him lie there. This night was for celebrating their love. She would gladly bear his weight if it meant she had more memories of him to help her through the long, lonely, anguished times she was sure would come.

Sometime during the night, Rosalind found herself tracing the raised outline of a brand on Christopher’s chest with her fingertips. His hand closed over hers and she realized he was awake.

“Does this offend you?”

Her fingers stilled. “Is it an old wound?”

“It’s the mark of those who worship Mithras.A brand shaped like a bull’s horns.”

“Ah.” She didn’t take her hand away. “Rhys told me you were a member of that cult.”

“I’m ashamed to say that he is right. When I was a lad, I begged my uncle to allow me to join.” He let out his breath.“He refused at first, because my blood wasn’t considered pure enough, but I kept insisting I was worthy, and when I was sixteen he allowed me to be initiated. I’ve regretted it ever since.”

“You must have known that the cult’s sole purpose was to kill Druids,” Rosalind said carefully.

“I did.” His fingers tightened over hers as if in a silent apology for the hurt he knew he was inflicting. “But I wanted so terribly to belong to something and to finally gain my uncle’s approval that I convinced myself that the cult’s vows were mainly ceremonial. In truth, I didn’t even realize that there were many Druids still living.”

He kissed the top of her head.“When I was faced with the prospect of killing in cold blood, I realized I couldn’t do it. If a Druid was attacking an innocent Vampire, of course I was quite capable of doing my duty, but I refused to hunt Druids simply to slaughter them.”

He drew her even closer. “My uncle proclaimed me a coward, and banned me from the Mithraic rites, but I don’t think he was terribly surprised. He knew he still controlled me, for I was bound by the vows I’d taken with no possibility of escape. That was good enough for him.”

Beneath her cheek, his muscles had tensed as if he thought she might repudiate him. Cautiously, Rosalind accessed his mind and found nothing but a strong desire to confess all to her and accept the consequences. She could only offer him honesty in return. It was too late to shy away from what either of them was capable of.

“I too would feel obliged to defend any of my people if they were being attacked by an enemy,” she whispered. “I understand what you have done.”

He kissed the top of her head and then rolled her onto her back again.“Thank you.” He kissed her mouth, whispered the words between kisses, his hands moving over her. “Thank you for understanding. I swear, I have never hunted— ” She kissed him back and stopped his words, even though they echoed in his thoughts as he deepened the kiss and set about seducing her with his body and his mind.

By the morning they’d coupled so often she was sore, but she didn’t care and she knew he felt the same.There was an urgency to their joining that spoke of long separation, of new love stifled, suffocated, and lost… He helped her dress in her traveling clothes and she aided him too, their faces as solemn as if they dressed for a funeral.

It was raining, a light misting that made the pathways treacherous and turned the trees into dripping gray ghosts. They walked through the muted darkness to the stables and paused, as if by mutual consent, in the ruined bathhouse. At the last, Christopher held her face between his hands, his warm breath clouding her vision. “Rhys will take care of you.”

“I am quite capable of caring for myself.”

“I know that, but…” He took a deep breath, then hurried on. “If you think to marry him after all, I will understand.”

“That is very agreeable of you, but I’m not sure he wants to marry me anymore, and that is probably a good thing.” She tried to pull away from him, but he held fast.

“You know how I feel, damn it. I’d be happy to tear any man limb from limb for daring to smile at you, let alone touch you. But we have to be practical.”

“Why must we?” Desperation laced her words. For the first time in her life, her needs as a woman surpassed her need to be a Vampire slayer.

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Because I can’t be with you, and Rhys can. He is a good man.”

“I know that.” She echoed his words. “But he isn’t you.”

Anguish flared in his blue eyes. “What do you want me to do, Rosalind? Take you away from your family and keep you for myself? That would be cruel and you know it. You’d grow to hate me more than you love me. And where on this earth could we live where I could keep you safe from my Vampire family?”

“That’s not important— ”

“And what about your people?” he roared at her. “Do you think they would still accept you if you were married to me?”

She bit down on her lip to stop it from trembling.“My family loves me.”

“You would be cast out, and you know it.” All expression disappeared from his face.“Rosalind, I’ve lived without a family, lived with the scraps of other people’s affection and their mistrust. I would rather kill myself than subject you to the same.”

“Because you love me.”

“Aye.”

She pressed her hand over her heart. “But it hurts, Christopher. I don’t know if I can bear to leave you like this.”

He briefly closed his eyes. “Don’t do this. One of us has to be strong. Please.”

Tears stung her eyes and she dropped him an awkward curtsy. “Then I suppose I should leave.”