Captive Rose (28 page)

"God's blood, woman, what have you done?" he
shouted, pushing against the table as he jumped to his feet, sending the
pitcher, wine bottles, tray of food, and cups all crashing to the floor. He got
no answer, for Leila had swept up her shift and was making a wild dash across
the room.

With an enraged roar, Guy cleared the tub and caught
her in three strides. As she struggled against him, he spun her around to face
him, shaking her so hard that her head snapped back. "You drugged the
wine, didn't you? Didn't you?"

Leila had never seen such fury, and it filled her with
fear, her knees growing so wobbly she thought for sure she would collapse. Guy's
handsome face was livid, his eyes a thunderous blue. He looked as if he wanted
to kill her.

"Answer me! Did you drug me?"

She gulped for air, inwardly cursing her stupid
carelessness. "Y-yes."

"With what?"

"Poppies . . . wild poppies!"

"Where did you get them? You had no money."

"The spice merchant . . . outside the tavern. I—I
stole them."

"Stole them," he echoed, his furious gaze
sweeping over her trembling nude body.

Suddenly he yanked her hard against his chest and
threaded his fingers through her wet hair, pulling her head back. His voice
became dangerously low, his breath fanning her upturned face like a hot,
wine-scented wind.

"Do you think I'm a total fool, Leila? This was
all a show, wasn't it? A provocative game with very high stakes. You knew
exactly what you were doing. Serving me wine so I might see you in your shift,
conveniently catching your hair in the tub so I might see your beautiful wet
body" —he pulled her hair tighter until she winced— "then encouraging
me to drink while you finished your bath."

"No! No, you're wrong!" she whispered
desperately in a vain attempt to diffuse his rage. "My hair did snag in
those staves!"

Guy seemed not to hear her, only drawing her closer
until her breasts were flattened cruelly against him. "How far were you
planning to push me, my lady? How much farther would you have carried your
teasing? Through dinner, perhaps? What would you have done, fed me with your
own fingers as I've heard eastern women do in the harem? Now there's an
intriguing thought. And then what? When it was time for bed, would you have
taken your little game as far as necessary, knowing the drugged wine would save
your precious virginity before I could take it from you?"

Leila could not answer; her throat was too constricted
with shock. Her mind spun to think that he would read her initial actions so
clearly, but he was wrong about the rest. So wrong! She would never have—

"I drank three mugs of wine, Leila," he
grated, his deep, angry voice cutting into her racing thoughts. "How long
do I have before the drug will take effect?"

"I don't know!" she blurted truthfully. "Maybe
an hour, maybe less. You may not have ingested enough opiate to feel more than
a slight drowsiness—"

"It is long enough," he cut her off
ominously, gathering her suddenly into his arms and striding back to the tub. "Long
enough."

"Long enough for what?" she rasped breathlessly,
her skin puckering with
goosebumps
as he practically
dumped her into the tepid water. While he knelt beside the tub and fished
around for the soap, she scrambled as far away from him as possible, but he
only dragged her back.

"Long enough to see that we carry this seductive
game to the end," he said huskily, locking her directly in front of him as
he leaned over her shoulders. He ran the slick bar across her hardened nipples,
around and around her full breasts,
then
slowly slid
it down the valley between them to her navel. "First, we shall finish your
bath. Would you have done this for me, Leila? Soaped your smooth skin while I
watched? Surely that would have goaded me into drinking more of your vicious
brew."

"No!" she cried, but already heady sensations
flickered through her body as he dipped the soap between her legs. She tried to
squeeze them together, but he forced her knees apart, his great strength
overwhelming her. "No, you cannot mean to do this! What of your vow? You
swore to protect me!"

"Vows mean nothing in the face of your treachery,"
Guy declared, so far gone with desire that he knew he could not stop now no
matter how hard he tried.

He did not want to think, to reason, to feel the
terrible pain cutting into his heart at the realization of what she had been
doing to him. He only wanted to play the game that she had started, before it
was too late. Even now he could feel a slight dullness in his brain, the
heaviness in his limbs, but he would fight against it as he was fighting
against the truth of her words.

To hell with his vow! Truth. Chivalry. To hell with all
of them! He wanted her. More than he had ever wanted any woman.

And he meant to have her.

Right now, that was all that mattered.

"How about this, my lady fair?" he whispered,
nibbling her neck while he lathered her breasts and belly. His slippery palms
slid up and down her arms and her slender legs, then along her inner thighs,
his fingernails lightly grazing her tender flesh. He cupped his large hands and
rinsed her, caressing the soap from her flushed skin with both rough and gentle
strokes.

Leila gripped his taut, powerful biceps and futilely
tried to push his arms away even as she felt her body swiftly betraying her
reason. She no longer felt the coolness of the water, only the scorching heat
of his touch. His hands were heavy and warm upon her, arousing unbelievable
pleasure wherever they roamed. A strange tension was spreading through her body
and consuming her, a throbbing ache building between her thighs.

Dear God, what was this wild madness seizing her? It
was a sin, this feeling! She wanted him to stop, didn't she?

"No, you must stop," she demanded raggedly as
his hands glided inward from her hips and sank lower into the junction of her
thighs. He parted her legs wide, his fingers venturing into her softness, and
he stroked the quivering inner folds. "Stop," she moaned. "Oh,
please . . ."

"How can you want me to stop, Leila, when your
body is on fire with need?"
came
his husky words
in her ear. His fingers delved deeper, only to slide out again and again to
circle the sensitive bud he found buried there. "You're so hot, like flame
. . . and so tight . . ."

She jerked against his hand, his intimate touch too
much, too sweet, too terrible. "Barbarian!" she cried out. "I
hate you for this! Hate you!"

"Ah, woman, you may hate me, but you also desire
me," Guy said hoarsely, his tongue flicking across her ear. "Your
need is running wild through your blood like the drug coursing in mine. I have
reason to hate you as well for what you have done to me, but I cannot. I
cannot!"

Leila gasped as he rose suddenly and lifted her wet
body from the tub in a cascade of glistening water. In the next instant he was
straddling her on the bed, the velvet curtains hanging torn from their wooden
poles because he had wrenched them so violently aside. His towel was gone, his
own rampant desire alarmingly evident, hard, swollen, and poised above her
belly.

"Remember this, Leila," he whispered, his
eyes burning into hers with an intensity that matched the heat of his huge,
heavily muscled thighs. "After tonight you will never be free of me. I
swear it! Somehow . . . somehow I will have you for my—" He did not finish
but swayed slightly above her, then slammed his fist down on the mattress,
groaning, "No,
dammit
! No! Not yet!"

Through the passion which gripped her, Leila knew that
the opiate was weakening him. Just as she knew when he claimed her lips in a
crushing kiss that it still would not fell him in time to save her. As his
tongue hungrily sought the soft, inner depths of her mouth, she thought
fleetingly that she should fight him, but she couldn't. She wanted him. Be it
sin or the devil taunting her, she wanted him.

Guy blanketed her with his huge, hot body, and all
thought fled.

There was no more right and wrong, no past and future,
only the furious
onslaught of his carnal kiss
, his
touch, his lips, his tongue. He seemed to be everywhere at once, stroking her,
caressing her, his movements urgent and wild. She gave herself up completely to
the trembling desire which threatened to explode from some deep, mysterious
place. She was lost to feelings and sensations her body had never known . . .

The wet, shivering wonder of Guy nuzzling at her
breasts, his licking tongue and nipping teeth like sweet torture to her roused
nipples. His lips pulled upon her until she was half mad with delight and she
entangled her fingers in his damp hair, moaning incoherently.

The weight of him, the incredible feel of him upon her
as he pressed her down into the soft mattress. His muscles rippled beneath her
frantic hands, his every movement bursting with strength and power.

As his knee nudged apart her legs, his fingers slid
into her again and teased the quivering bud of flesh until she was writhing and
gasping beneath him. Shards of heat and ecstasy pierced her, the throbbing ache
now a fire raging out of control. She scarcely knew when his fingers were
replaced by a mightier presence which suddenly drove deep into her body,
filling her completely.

Leila cried out, half whimper, half scream, startled by
the sharp, searing sensation where an instant before she had felt only
delirious splendor.

"
Shhh
, love. Feel me
move inside you,"
came
Guy's throaty command. "Think
only of the pleasure. The pain will soon pass. I promise you."

She gripped his back, spreading her legs as he sank
into her, slowly withdrew,
then
sheathed himself in
her tightness again and again.

"Only the pleasure, Leila . . . sweet, so hot. Do
you feel it?" he whispered raggedly.

"Yes . . . yes," she moaned, the pain quickly
fading as her hips began to instinctively meet his quickening thrusts. As the
sensations became more intense, more overwhelming, she wound her legs around
his hips, wanting more of him . . . wanting all of him.

"Ah, God, woman, you are mine!" Guy groaned
vehemently, slamming his body into hers until they were both shaking with
desire. "No one else shall have you!"

And in the blinding moment of glory that suddenly burst
upon her, Leila believed him.

She was his as she had been no other man's, and she
clung tightly to him, clutching his shoulders and gripping his taut buttocks
with her legs as he shuddered and spilled his hot, surging seed deep inside
her. She arched wildly to meet him,
laughing
and
crying and certain she was dying, for such wondrous pleasure could surely not
be of this earth.

"Oh God. Leila . . . Leila!"

Deliciously dazed and panting hard, she fell back on
the mattress as Guy collapsed heavily on top of her. She was so full of
him,
she could feel his body still throbbing from his climax.
It was only after what seemed an eternity, when he still did not move, that she
realized with a start he was unconscious. The splendid afterglow was instantly
shattered, harsh reality hitting her like a cruel slap in the face.

Assailed by guilt and anger, Leila began to struggle
beneath his weight, desperately trying to extricate herself from their wild
tangle of limbs and wet hair. But it soon became apparent that her efforts were
useless. In his drugged stupor Guy held her as fast as any bonds, his body
impaling hers.

Overcome by a tumult of emotions, Leila began to cry,
great, wrenching sobs that made it all the more difficult to breathe. She had
never felt such wretched helplessness or such confusion.

She had doubly lost. Her virginity was gone forever,
and now there would be no escape. Not tonight.

Heaving a broken sigh, Leila touched Guy's face with
trembling, tear-wet fingers.

Most unsettling of all, deep in her heart she was no
longer sure she truly wanted to escape him.

Chapter 15

Loud pounding upon the door startled Guy awake and he
groaned, slowly opening his eyes as he rolled over onto his back. He stared at
the velvet canopy and rubbed his eyes until they focused clearly.

What the devil had happened? Why did he feel so damn
lousy? His head was aching and his mouth was as dry and scratchy as coarse
wool.

Guy felt the mattress depress slightly and heard the
rustling of linen sheets beside him. He turned his head to see Leila rising
stiffly from the bed without
so
much as a glance in
his direction. She was naked, her hair still damp and clinging to her lovely
back and buttocks . . .

Suddenly the events of the previous night came rushing
back to him and he groaned again, remorse and self-disgust flooding him, as
well as incredible relief that she had not managed to escape. Wondering dazedly
how that had been accomplished, he watched her quickly dress herself while the
vigorous pounding continued on the door.

"God's blood, who is it?" Guy shouted,
throwing his forearm over his eyes against the bright sunlight slashing across
the rumpled bed. "Cease that infernal racket or I'll—"

"Lord de
Warenne
! It's
Henry Langton. Robert
Burnell
is here with me, too.
We just got your message from the
taverner
that you
were here, so we came night up. Open the door so we can get a good look at you,
man. It's been a hell of a long time. And traveling with a new wife, no less!"

Guy sat up in bed, trying to shake off the muddled haze
still lingering in his brain.

Of course. Langton and
Burnell
.
He had left a message for them to meet with him early this morning so that they
could journey together the rest of the way to London.