Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (18 page)

throwing her down to his bed. He covered her and splayed her thighs apart with his knees in one violent

movement that left no doubt of his intent. His hand went to his shaft and he guided himself to her with an

animalistic grunt.

“Now!” she ordered him. “NOW!"

He drove into her with a mindless thrust that arched her back and slammed her upwards in the bed. Her

legs came around his hips and she met him: thrust for thrust; grunt for grunt, her nails raking down his

back in ten long grooves that drew instant blood. With her breasts pressed tightly against his sweaty

chest, she rode him even as he rode her and her legs tightened painfully around his waist, driving him

deeper into her need.

Kaelan's only thought was of the fulfillment he sought. It had been many months since he had known

total abandon such as this. Since a woman had willingly given her heat to him; her fire matching his own.

He slammed into her, thrusting up to the hilt, holding himself until he heard her grunt with the pain of it,

then retreating an inch or two before thrusting forward again and again. The heat was building in his loins

and her hot sheath was sucking him in, drawing on him, demanding his spill.

“Yes!” he heard her telling him. “YES!” Her nails gouged into his back, raked down his side, leaving

stinging trails in their wake. “YES!!!!!"

He spilled his seed in a long, blinding torrent of utter pleasure. His flesh jerked inside her, felt her

answering quiver, then the sharp tugging sensations of her climax that pulsed around his shaft. He heard

her muffled cry of release against his shoulder, felt her sharp teeth nip him as she bit down into his flesh;

the sensation made him spurt again and he threw back his head, needing to howl his own and he sank

into the soft padding over her breasts and belly and lowered his head to the fragrant perfume of her neck.

“Thank you,” he whispered, utterly drained.

“Any time, Your Grace,” she answered and he knew into whose flesh he had buried himself.

When Kaelan woke the next morning, the silky soft pillows of flesh were gone from beneath his cheek,

but the servant girl's scent remained. He breathed in the clean scent of soap and lilac water where her

head had rested on the pillow beside his own; he stroked the pillowcase and closed his eyes to the

marvel that had happened to him the night before. Not even the harsh sunlight filtering in through the

window could break the mood into which he allowed himself to sink.

It had been a long time since he had known such glorious bliss in the arms of a woman. To have her

touch him and take him willingly into her flesh for the sheer pleasure of it and not the onerous duty Marie

made the act seem.

He relived the night again and again as he lay there-ignoring the bark of orders coming from Hildy as she

set the morning maids to work. Even a tight little smile flowed over his lips as he realized the woman was

right outside his chamber door as she issued her strident commands; no doubt to aggravate him, he

thought. But he didn't think anything could break his mood this morning as he reluctantly threw back his

covers and swung his long legs from the bed. The smell of spent semen wafted up from the sheets and the

first frown of the day marred his handsome face. It wouldn't do for a maid to make this bed and catch

that tell-tale scent, he thought, for Marie never deigned to set foot inside his chamber. He was debating

what to do when there was a sharp rap on his chamber door only a fraction of a second before it was

thrown open.

Hildy paused when she saw the prince standing beside his bed, naked as the day he had been born. Of

their own accord, her gaze crawled hungrily over that lithe frame—missing nothing—then slowly settled

on Kaelan's face.

“I know you have about as much respect for me as does your mistress, Madame Jamerson, but would

you mind giving me time to bid you enter before you barge in here next time,” he said dryly, turning his

back on the hot look of lust he had been stunned to see developing in the servant woman's eyes. He

snagged his breeches from a chair and calmly stepped into them.

The sight of the prince's naked body made Hildy shiver. Even as he drew the cords up over his

rump—the firm cheek muscles tightening—she felt a quick stab of intense desire spreading through her

lower belly. Her Jamie was considered to be one of the best looking men in the County, but he could not

hold a candle to the man whose back muscles flexed so desirably as he tugged the breeches into place on

his lean hips. So intent was Hildy at viewing that delectable body, she did not note the long scratches

down that muscled back.

He turned around, his shirt in his hand, oblivious to the slight gaping of his breeches where dark crisp

hair nestled. The woman was gawking at him like she was starving and he were the main course.

Shrugging his arms into the sleeves, eager to hide himself from her avid gaze, he scowled as his nimble

fingers buttoned his shirt. “Was there something you wanted, Hildy?"

Hildy had been staring at his heavily-furred chest and the washboard ridges of prime male muscle that

striped his belly. As his strong fingers made quick work of the shirt buttons, she shook herself, amazed at

the lascivious thoughts there were speeding through her head. Almost wistfully, she let her gaze lift to his

stony face.

“She wants to see you,” the servant woman said, somewhat surprised at the sultry purr in her voice. She

cleared her throat. “In the front parlor."

Kaelan tucked his shirt into his breeches then buttoned his fly, careful not to look at the woman whose

hot gaze was once more crawling over him. “When?” he asked as he threaded his belt through the loops

at his waist.

“When?” Hildy repeated dreamily.

The prince sighed heavily, then raked his fingers through his hair. “When does Milady wish for me to

meet with her?"

His hair was tousled so attractively, hanging low on his neck, curling around his ears. The dark

gleam—like rich brown silk-glowed in an errant shaft of sunlight. Hildy wondered what it would be like

to run her fingers through that lush mane.

“Hildy?"

She shook herself, stamping down the lust that had come so unbidden and unwelcome. It took every

ounce of self-discipline she possessed to force all wayward thoughts of this man from her mind.

“As soon as possible,” she replied, locking gazes with him, not in the least surprised to see contempt

filtering through his. She raised her chin. “Right now"

Kaelan nodded as he watched the woman's hatred return. “I'll be there in a moment."

Hildy sniffed. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to keep Her Grace waiting, but such blatant

disrespect was not wise. Instead, she dipped her head in acknowledgment of his words then turned to

go. She was almost out the door when she caught the smell. She stopped, looked around, and found the

prince staring guiltily at the bed. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared with disgust.

Before Kaelan had time to react, the woman turned back around and marched to the bed. He opened

his mouth to protest, but it was already too late. She was bundling the coverlet up in her arms, throwing it

aside, and dragging his sheets from the mattress.

“It is written in the Book of Morality that seed should not be wasted upon barren soil!” Hildy proclaimed

as she rolled the offending sheets into a ball and tossed them out into the hall. Her furious glare impaled

him where he stood at the foot of the bed. “It is a sin!"

Kaelan stared at her as though she'd lost what little mental capacity she had left. Then, as her meaning

registered, he began to laugh. The snotty hell-hag thought he'd been masturbating!

“'Tis nothing humorous about this!” Hildy told him, offended even more by his laughing.

“Get out of here,” he laughed, shaking his head at the conclusion Hildy had reached. A perverse little

imp lurking at the back of his mind urged him to tell the woman he hadn't done what she was accusing of

him doing since he was twelve years old, but he knew it was better for her to think him a pervert than to

suspect him guilty of adultery.

“The Book says: ‘He who practices self-abuse gains for himself a special place in torment where no

gratification of the body may ever be known again!'” Hildy's face was filled with self-righteous

indignation.

“Leave, Hildy,” he chuckled, “before I take matters into my own hands right here in front of you.” He

laughed even harder at her gasp of outrage. When she would have protested, continued to lecture him, he

took her by the shoulders-ignoring the instant stiffening of her offended person-and ushered her from the

room.

Hildy spun around as the door shut in her face. She opened her mouth to condemn his vile actions once

more, then thought better of it. It was best Her Grace knew what demonic pleasures her husband was

taking. Hurrying away to find her mistress, Hildy came to the conclusion that perhaps she'd found the

reason why the Duchess of Winterstorm had not conceived: her husband was throwing away precious,

vital sperm!

“The evil man,” the servant woman mumbled as she tramped briskly down the stair. “The devilishly evil

man!"

* * * *

By the time Kaelan finally joined her in the front parlor, Marie had worked herself up into a fine state of

pique. Her eyes had slit with fury when Hildy had informed her what the prince had been doing and she

had agreed with her servant that such a thing was evil, indeed.

“No gods-fearing, respectable man would do such a despicable thing, Your Grace!” Hildy had informed

her. “Only those whose feet are set on the path to the Abyss would dare.” She had lowered her voice.

“It is written in the Book: ‘Let those who practice the abhorrent act be cast into the Fires of Eternal

Damnation and be made clean lest they infect the godly with their debauchery'."

“The man has no shame,” Marie agreed. She clenched her fists. “Does he call that Chalean bitch's name

when he spills his seed, I wonder?"

“He is a demon in manly disguise,” Hildy stated. “How else to explain the look of him, Milady?"

Marie lifted one finely-sculpted brow. “The look of him?"

Hildy shuddered. “He bewitches; he entices; he lures the chaste with his comeliness! The maids have

remarked on it, Your Grace.” She dipped her head in abject apology. “Even I have had impure thoughts

when in his company."

“You?” Marie gasped. Such a thing was certainly not possible. Hildy was a godsfearing woman who had

always upheld Marie's own condemnation toward Kaelan Hesar. If she was being affected by the man....

“You wanted to see me, Marie?"

The Duchess of Winterstorm flinched, bringing her anger back to the present. She glared at her husband.

Her lips pursed into a thin line as she took in what he was wearing and the way he looked:

Kaelan's breeches were so tight across his hips the bulge of his manhood was made more prominent.

The silk shirt he wore was stretched tightly across his wide shoulders and had been left unbuttoned

half-way down his chest. Dark chest hair spilled from the opening and drew the eye there as a matter of

course. His hair had not been combed; he looked as though he had just risen from bed. The dark brown

leather jacket slung over his right shoulder—the collar of which was hooked on the middle finger of his

right hand—brought out the swarthy coloring of his skin and the amber glints in his brown eyes. When he

spoke, the white gleam of his teeth was dazzling.

“Marie?"

“You are evil,” she whispered. Her belly was doing little flips and she could feel the rapid pounding of

her heart as she looked at him. Heat infused her face; her breathing became erratic; and she felt an urgent

need to tear off her husband's clothes and impale herself upon the steely length of his shaft.

The prince recognized all too well that look he saw forming on Marie's pretty face; he'd seen it there four

times in the last eight months. Whenever that look came over her face, she would begrudgingly allow him

to consummate their Joining-lying beneath him as stiffly as a board as he did it-then berate him for the

rutting beast he was when she had been fulfilled.

He doubted the woman even knew what it was she was feeling when orgasm came. To her, the

sensations bombarding her were no doubt disgusting, vile, and evil, and he was to be condemned for

making her feel such things. She had once as much as said so to him when—in the midst of their

mating—she had forgotten herself and clung to him as a wife should, thrusting her lower body against his

in wild abandon; the experience had left her shaken and mortified.

“You have made me unclean with your lust, Kaelan Hesar!” she'd ranted at him. Her hand had

connected violently with his unprotected cheek. “You have defiled me, you beast!"

Watching his wife warily, Kaelan held up a hand to ward her off. “I am in no mood to service you,

Marie."

“Service me?” she screeched at him, coming away from the window where she'd been standing.

“Service me?” She picked up a vase and threw it at him. “Am I a mare to be bred by you, Hesar?"

Kaelan ducked, turning his head to watch the vase hit the far wall and shatter. The lovely Chrystallusian

vessel scattered over the carpeting, its delicate porcelain pieces glinting sadly in the cascade light from the

fan window overhead. He looked back at his wife, reluctant to speak for fear she'd throw something else