Midnight Eyes (6 page)

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” he said quietly, trying unsuccessfully to hide his embarrassment.

She shrugged her shoulders with a seeming carelessness, her hands clasping more tightly in her lap. “I didn’t see the point.”

“The point,” Robert said with careful slowness, “would have been that you wouldn’t have had to sit there like a martyr, starving at your own wedding feast, if you had mentioned it to me.”

He picked up his own empty plate and began refilling it with the most tempting delicacies and he reached over and filled his goblet with wine. With economical, deliberate movements he carefully loaded a spoon with roast boar and brought it to her lips, trying not to notice the way they seemed to glow rose-red in the candlelight. “Open your mouth, Imogen,” he said huskily, and was unable to stop himself leaning a little closer so that he could bathe himself in the perfume from her hair.

“No…” she started to stay but he took advantage of the moment and shoved the spoon into her open mouth. He couldn’t help but be smugly pleased that he had left her with only two options. She could either spit out the tasty meat and draw attention to herself, or she could eat it.

Robert watched with amusement as she began militantly chewing the meat, grinding it with her teeth as if it was her enemy, swallowing it with exaggerated grimaces.

“I won’t be treated like a child.” Her voice quivered with irritation and outraged dignity. “It’s not…” Ignoring the diatribe, Robert took advantage of her open mouth to pop in a small piece of herb bread. He had to hastily pull his fingers back to avoid the sharp little teeth Imogen brought closed with a snap. A blush of anger flagged her cheeks red as she once more began chewing.

“Trust me, Imogen, I will keep feeding you. Eat and we can argue about it later,” Robert said soothingly. “It’s always a lot more fun to fight on a full stomach, I find. I never meant you to starve, so let me make it up to you so I don’t have to feel guilty for too long. That’s a good girl, hmmm?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it too quickly for Robert to get any food inside. He let out a deep chuckle of appreciation, even as he sighed in exasperation.

“I’ll have to remember that you are no fool. I only got to pull the same stunt twice before you spotted it. You’re obviously going to prove to be quite a test on my creativity.”

Imogen could well hear the smile in Robert’s rich voice, and the open sincerity of it drew a small answering smile from her.

Robert realized helplessly that he was in very grave danger of having his heart snared by the single dimple that danced on her cheek. Never before had he ever worried whether a woman had a sense of humor or not but found himself inordinately pleased that Imogen seemed to.

“Please eat some more,” Robert whispered huskily in her ear. “I find I like to watch you eat.” It was true. There was no denying the primitive satisfaction to be found in feeding one’s wife.

Imogen smiled a little broader. “How can I say no to my lord, when my lord has quite clearly lost some very important parts of his mind?” She opened her mouth and closed her eyes with all the appearance of wifely obedience.

Robert’s eyes were drawn to her open lips, to the way they glistened in the candlelight. They looked tempting, lush and infinitely kissable. Lust, pure and compelling, slammed through him, momentarily depriving his lungs of air.

“Well, your lord has certainly lost control of something,” Robert growled with awe as he reached blindly for some food.

His gaze never wavered as he slid a piece of spiced apple over her waiting lips. Indeed, he watched in rapt fascination as her pearly teeth closed again, more slowly this time, biting into the soft flesh of the fruit. A little of the juice trickled from her lips, and she licked it away with the tip of her tongue.

Robert could barely contain a groan. By God, he thought with astonishment, he was on fire! He had never felt anything like this intensity, and over so innocent a thing!

He had truly thought until this moment that he had experienced all the shades of lust there were. This white-hot burning, however, was unique to his experience. The simple lust that he had always associated with sex had suddenly taken on a tangled web of other, entirely foreign emotions. They seemed to tighten around him till he no longer wanted to escape them. He was in torment.

No more.

He surged suddenly to his feet, not caring if his advanced state of arousal was evident to all or not. He barely noticed that he had knocked over his chair. Imogen flinched, startled by the suddenness of his movements and by the sharpness of wood hitting wood. She turned quickly toward the noise.

“Robert, what happened?”

“Madam, I’m through with eating,” he ground out.

“But I’ve barely started,” she squeaked, her brow furrowing with her confusion.

He reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet and after he had helped her down from the dais, he began to stride from the hall, ignoring the hooting and ribald comments that followed them.

As he pulled on her arm, Imogen had to run to keep up with his longer strides. He slowed down only after the second time she stumbled. Slowed, but wouldn’t be deterred from his ultimate objective. She yelled at him and tried to tug her hand free, but could not catch his attention until they were at at the bottom of the stairs.

He turned, despite the demon that rode him mercilessly, and even managed a smile at the innocent bewilderment on her face.

“Sir, this is madness,” she said breathlessly, all the while trying to reclaim her hand, which remained resolutely held in the warmth of his. It took only a slight tug for Robert to bring her body up to the burning heat of his. The silent sliding movement of her skirts over his thighs was almost his complete undoing.

“This might be madness,” he said hoarsely as he bent and placed an arm under her knees and swung her up to his chest, “but it is a divine madness, Wife.”

She let out a small squeak of protest, but as she felt his powerful strides start up the complaining stairs, she suddenly felt calm. Held against the warmth of his broad chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, she almost dared to feel safe for the first time since her parents died. For this one, precious moment it was as if Roger and his dark games didn’t exist.

She was amazed to find herself actually snuggling herself against him. Her mind struggled to equate this strange behavior with the terror of her dark memories. She should be running, freezing, screaming or any of the things she did when Roger touched her, but somehow, it just wasn’t the same. Robert surrounded her so completely that he blocked out all of the darkness, leaving her free of it for the first time in her life.

It wasn’t to be trusted, she told herself sternly, even as she let herself enjoy the sensation. He wasn’t to be trusted. This was all an illusion conjured by Roger. She should be trying, however inadequately, to protect herself. She needed to prepare herself for the pain and fear that Roger always brought into her life, albeit that this time he was using this stranger as his weapon.

Instead, she found her arms tightening around her husband’s neck, drawing herself as close to him as she could be.

Robert was right. This all must be some kind of divine madness.

Robert leaned against her chamber door, panting for a moment. He still held her tight to his chest, his arms like steel bands around her.

“Perhaps you should put me down now,” Imogen whispered huskily, barely able to recognize the voice that shattered the silence as her own. She didn’t even recognize herself in the wanton who so willingly embraced a man who was essentially a stranger, for all he was her husband, in her bedchamber. But she was. Despite all that Roger had done to her, he had not robbed her of her ability to find pleasure in the touch of this man. The realization staggered and amazed her. It was almost frightening, and a part of her wanted to run away from this strange new sensation, but a deeper, more primitive part had turned to molten lead. That was the part of her that seemed to be making her decisions at the moment.

“Perhaps,” he said hoarsely and began to slide her slowly down his body till her feet made contact with the floor. She was unsurprised to find that he didn’t let her go. She couldn’t seem to let him go either. Not just yet.

She felt almost dizzy as the dazzling heat rose through her body. She was feeling things she could scarcely identify, wanting things she should not be able to bear, but if her mind struggled to understand this bewildering new world, her body seemed to know of it already. It knew exactly what it sought, and moved instinctively against Robert in the getting of it.

He moaned in the back of his throat and lowered his mouth to claim hers.

She drew in a sharp breath at first contact, then slowly her hands wound themselves around his neck. It was the first kiss she had ever wanted. She whimpered as she felt his tongue move along the seam of her lips. He answered her small whimper with a demanding growl of his own and she opened her lips in eager response to his primitive demand.

Her first true kiss.

It quickly deepened, taking Imogen to a place she had never known existed inside of her. She found herself helpless and entirely unable to resist his sensual invasion. Her body longed for this strange new self he was showing her. It was as if she had come alive after a lifetime of slumber, every nerve ending opening to the world in a whole new way.

He invaded her every sense.

Her fingertips buried in his hair, tingling with the feel of his warm scalp. She could hear the scrape of his stubbled cheek against her skin, his roughness against her smoothness, her mews, his half groans, the moist sound of his mouth plundering hers and the shush of fabric rubbing against fabric created the most exquisite music that Imogen had ever heard.

It was the song of Robert making love to her.

Making love. She only half understood what those words meant. She knew of dark deeds to be forgotten in the daylight, but she knew nothing of love between a man and a woman. Somehow, though, her body knew. It knew what it needed, and relentlessly pushed her toward the abyss of the unknown to get it.

It was in the part of her mind where the memories were freshest that a small doubt came to life. That small, rational region of her separated itself, hiding behind a cold wall of fear. It was almost overwhelmed by the sudden need of her body to learn all.

But fear was relentless and slowly froze her body’s needs. She lowered her hands to his chest and tried to push him away. It was no more than the fluttering of a butterfly and in Robert’s passion-clouded mind it barely registered. His body, however, was at one with hers and was instantly aware that she was no longer following him into the mad sensual realm they had stumbled upon. He struggled to lift his mind free of the lust that had taken hold of him and he couldn’t help but groan with frustration as he tore his lips free from hers.

Even though it was what she had silently asked for, she wanted to protest the sudden loss of the warmth of his mouth as she struggled to slow the rapid beat of her heart while she listened to Robert’s labored breathing. She found it oddly intoxicating that she could bring him to a state that equaled her own. His forehead leaned against hers, bathing Imogen with the sweetness of his breath.

It was a long moment before either of them could speak.

“I’m sorry,” Imogen finally murmured.

Robert lifted his hand to gently cup her face. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He inhaled sharply. “It is I who should be apologizing for my behavior. First I rush you from your own wedding feast without letting you eat properly, then I behave like an animal without control over his lust.”

He slowly ran his thumb over the softness of her cheek and she shivered as she felt the rasp of his callouses against her skin. Without any conscious thought she reached up to hold his hand to her face when he made to move it away.

“I didn’t really mind,” Imogen said shyly, surprising herself as much as him with the truth of that statement. “I’m just not sure…”

Robert’s sharp laughter cut off Imogen’s confused apology. They stood so close that she could almost feel it inside of her as it reverberated through his chest. His laughter almost felt like her own.

“Well, I am sure. You need time and I should be giving it to you,” Robert ground out harshly.

He held her tightly to his burning need for a second, then carefully lifted her bodily away from him. Bereft of his support she had to lean against the door to support her suddenly weak legs. In confusion she listened to him prowl the room like a caged lion, his disgust and self-loathing almost a tangible presence in the room.

The knowledge that it was her own fears and confusion that had caused his torment haunted her. She had never meant to cause him pain. She wrapped her arms around her middle, feeling his pain in her own body in much the same way she had felt his laughter. He thought his clean lust had frightened her, when instead it was her dark memories of another’s twisted perversion that had forced her to turn from the passion he offered her so freely.

Suddenly it seemed to her that those memories weren’t as important as the feelings that had come to life inside her with Robert’s touch.

“I don’t need all that much time.”

She said it so quietly that it took Robert a moment to hear it. His shout of grim laughter caught her by surprise.

“You don’t have to lie to save my feelings. Of course you need time to get over the fright and disgust caused by the insatiable animal you have married.” He slumped into a chair by the fire. He buried his face in his hands and tried to control the guilt and desire that raged in conflict through his body. Imogen could still feel it like it was a presence under her skin.

It was that new pain that made her decision for her.

Carefully she followed the sound of his ragged breathing and knelt slowly in front of him. She slid a hand up his thigh, partly for support, but mostly because she liked the feel of his coiled strength. Robert lifted his face, startled first by the voluntary touch and then by the look of earnestness on her face.

“Don’t say that. I know what fear and disgust feel like, and I didn’t find either in your kiss. It was beautiful and I wasn’t exactly fighting you off, if you remember.”

“How could you fight me? I’m at least twice your size,” Robert said darkly, trying to deny himself the comfort she offered.

“But you never used your size against me.” Her hand tightened over the tenseness of his thighs. “You stopped,” she whispered, and that knowledge was like a shaft of light into the darkness of her world. He hadn’t tried to harm or overwhelm her. He had stopped the second she had wanted him to. He had given her the choice. With that revelation came another, equally startling one; she chose to feel more of the fire he had built in her with just the touch of his lips on hers.

“May I touch you?” she asked, her face flaring with embarrassment at her own daring. She refused to be daunted, however, and took his sudden silence as an affirmative.

Robert’s breath stopped as he felt her small hand begin to move caressingly over the length of his thigh. “Lean back,” she murmured, and Robert found himself mutely complying, unable to resist the chance to feel her touch on flesh that craved it. She moved till she kneeled between his muscular thighs and carefully moved both her hands to his face. She ran a fingertip over the whorls in his ear, the fine hairs on his brow, the bridge of his nose.

“So soft,” she purred as she ran a thumb over the satin of his lips. Robert inhaled sharply as he felt the small tip of her finger trace the moist skin just inside his mouth. He couldn’t resist drawing it in even farther and gently sucking on it, all the while keeping his eyes locked on her flushed face. He watched in fascination as a faint shudder ran through her body, and felt an answering quake through his soul.

“It’s odd,” she whispered with awe, “that such little things can feel so large. I can feel your tongue all the way to the pit of my stomach.”

She slowly pulled her finger away, mimicking the action that his body burned for. She trailed the damp tip down his neck, tickling his Adam’s apple and the hollow of his collarbone. She mewed with frustration when the silky edge of his tunic stopped her explorations. She tugged ineffectually at the cloth, needing to touch the warm male skin that lay intriguingly beneath.

Suddenly Robert surged forward and all but tore the valuable cloth from his body.

Smiling with satisfaction and with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she moved her greedy fingers over him. Burying her hands in the springy hair on his chest, she sighed at the decadent pleasure of the feel of him under her palms. When she found the small masculine nipples that hid there and teased them gently, Robert had to grit his teeth to stop himself from sweeping her up and taking this exquisite torture to its only natural conclusion.

Unaware of just how tenuously Robert had control of himself, Imogen followed the path of his hair down to his navel, and then spread her hands out to cover his lower abdomen.

The ripple of muscle encased by satin-soft skin entranced her at first, then her sensitive fingers became aware of other ridges, ones that marred the perfection of his smooth skin. Scars. She felt a kinship to scars and the pain that had caused them, she thought sadly. Gently she followed their lines with her fingertips, feeling the pain that lingered on these badges of his wars.

Some were old, almost indiscernible, others puckered and new. One, just above his hipbone, still gave off the heat of healing. Robert stilled her hand with his and made to move it away from the ugliness of his healing flesh.

“No,” she murmured softly, then lowered her head and gently kissed it.

Robert was struck dumb. He stared uncomprehendingly at the bent head of the woman who knelt at his feet. It was a selfless act, meant to both reassure and comfort. Robert had never been the receiver of such an action and found himself swamped by emotions he could neither name nor deny. His vague feelings of protectiveness and concern had crystallized into a solid reality that, he realized with sudden awe, could all too easily be mistaken for love.

She raised her head, her hand still moving caressingly over the heated skin of his stomach. “Now, now I know you,” she breathed, leaning forward to press a kiss on the center of his chest and rest her cheek on him. “I know you in my mind; I can see there the lines on your face, the scars on your body.”

He raised a shaking hand, and cupped her head with it, holding her to him. It would be so easy now to take her, he thought wildly. She was alive to desire; it would take only a little push to tumble her headlong into the waters of serious passion. God knows he wanted to; his body was swollen and straining with that want.

But suddenly, mere want wasn’t enough. Not on its own.

Not when he was newly aware of the complexities of desire. They were complexities that warned he would need far more than an animal coupling on a hearth rug. He needed more than her awakening passion; he needed her mind, her trust, her heart and her soul.

He needed from her all the things she had somehow managed to take from him with just a kiss to his battle-scarred body.

He lifted her bodily off the floor and held her against him tightly, nestling her into his lap. She squirmed for a moment; unaware of how the feel of her body moving against his fractured his control. “Stop moving,” he said hoarsely.

A silence descended between them as she curled herself comfortably against him, enjoying the warmth that emanated from him. Imogen sighed her contentment.

An almost-peace had descended over her.

While her body was still tingling with a curious sensitivity, there was a certain serenity to be found in being held in this man’s arms. She lifted her hands and tucked them under her head. His arms held her tight, enclosing her within his warmth and she felt so safe that it would be easy to forget the specter of Roger that had haunted her always.

She furrowed her brow as she realized that there were many things she didn’t seem to understand in this strange new world that Robert had opened to her tonight.

She didn’t understand the fires he built in her, didn’t understand the vulnerability she had heard in his voice, didn’t understand why he was now just holding her as if she was a child when moments ago he had been reacting to her as if she was in fact a whole woman, not one weighed down by her own hidden scars. She wanted him as if that really was true and it was even more amazing to realize that as he would never force her, she was going to have to coerce him. She had no idea how it should be done, but she would give it her best shot, she thought with a smile.

“Is touching and holding all that is between a man and his wife?” she asked in a small voice. Somehow, it didn’t come out sounding as she wanted it to. She wanted to sound knowing and sensual, but instead she sounded awkward and nervous.

Robert had to clear his throat before he was able to answer. “No,” he growled tersely and closed his eyes, hoping against hope she would leave it at that, if only for his sanity’s sake.

She arched a brow. “But you stopped. Why?”

“Because I was getting carried away and it will be better for you if we wait till we know each other better before I show you all that is between man and wife.”