Dangerous Magic (6 page)

Gwenyth reached up. Linking his hand with hers, she brought it down to her breast, the fabric not enough to keep her from enjoying the scalding fire of his touch. He kneaded the soft mound, rubbing a thumb over the nipple until it hardened. Until she gasped. “I’m a woman like any other.” Her voice was shaky. Ragged. “The added gifts of Sight and knowing do not take from that. I want what every woman wants. A home, a family—”

“A man?” Rafe asked. He captured her beneath him. Allowing no escape. Not that she wanted to. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

He moved to her other breast, fondling her to arousal through the thin cotton of her gown.

Gwenyth swallowed the hard lump lodged in her throat as she fought the unwelcome return of the hot, slow tears. “Oh, yes,” she breathed, holding her hands out to cradle his chin between her fingers.

He lowered his mouth to hers in a searing kiss that sent a blaze of longing through her. His tongue slipped between her lips, and she responded with a passion of her own. Slowly, sensuously, he undressed her. Everywhere his hands touched her exposed flesh, she burned anew, and when he moved on, she shivered with want. The ache pooled to her center, became a throbbing to match her racing heart. She wanted this feeling to go on forever, even as she urged Rafe to satisfy her. To end the exquisite torture.

The moon rode high overhead. Almost full, it splashed soft gray light across them, silvering his dark hair, casting deep shadows within his beautiful eyes. She watched him with pleasure as he abandoned her naked upon the shawl and leaned back upon his heels. He yanked his shirt off over his head, revealing the lean lines of his torso and the stretch of bandage across his ribs. Sliding off his boots, he tossed them aside before reaching up to unbutton the fall of his breeches.

She welcomed his return, the heat of his skin adding fuel to the fires consuming her. As he possessed her mouth with another dizzying kiss, Gwenyth was caught off guard by the tantalizing caress of his hands skimming the curve of her ribs, the flat of her stomach. Dropping his head to her breasts, she gasped as his tongue curled around an already taut nipple. This time there was no restrictive clothing keeping her from the full force of his seduction. Arching her back, she clung to him, begging him with her body to take more of her than just this unsatisfying taste.

His member pressed hard against her thigh and reaching down, she heard a satisfying grunt of pleasure as she curved her palm around him.

But he held back, teasing one breast until, leaving it swollen and aching, he moved to the other. Each grazing brush of his teeth, every kiss of hot breath across her flesh pushing her nearer the edge.

She strained beneath him, needing him closer, the sensual rush of arousal sending her spiraling up and up. She curled her fingers into his back, feeling the sweat of his body even in the cool night air.

He ducked his head lower, lapping, nipping and sucking as he went, his hands brushing over, then cupping her hot, wet woman’s place, before moving to caress her inner thighs and then…Gwenyth gasped, her eyes widening in surprise at the new explosion of sensation that radiated from his talented fingers.

He lifted his head, his eyes boldly meeting her stare as he played her like an instrument, the rhythm steady, relentless. This whirling pull of desire grew to a dizzying swoop of emotions and sensations, his and hers, joined as one within her mind. Before she lost herself completely, she fastened her gaze upon the spinning heavens and the diamond-hard points of light glittering like tears. And then his fingers were gone, and he pushed into her, the tight ache filled by him, reaching deep into her and then retreating just when she felt she couldn’t take anymore.

He thrust again, deeper and more urgently. She arched, willing him on, every movement of their joined bodies, every rocking of their hips adding fuel to the inferno. Her body vibrated as he fed her passion, stoking it until she could stand it no longer and she must explode. She gave in with a cry as Rafe crushed her to him, a shudder running through his body as he found his own release.

She curled her hand against his chest, the drum of his heart pounding beneath her fingertips. What would it be like if Rafe was truly hers? If they came here as husband and wife? The fantasy spun out before her, and she smiled.

He pressed a kiss upon her damp brow. “It was right to come here. There’s something magical about this place.”

Above them, the bare limbs of the trees scraped in the wind. A sad, lonely sound. Reality smashed through her with the force of winter surf. “Goninan means hedge of ash trees,” she murmured. “They say magic runs thick as sap within the heart of the ash.”

Rafe’s hand brushed up her side, sending a shiver of lingering passion teasing through her. “A fitting bower, then, for the Witch of Kerrow.”

Ahh, yes. The extraordinary Witch of Kerrow. That was who she was.

But right now, she would give anything to be anyone else.

Gwenyth opened her eyes. Through a lattice of tangled branches, the sky grew gray and purple in the growing light. Birds called to each other in the trees and bushes of Goninan’s gardens. Rafe lay beside her, his hands cradling his head, lips lifted in the smallest of smiles.

Her hands stole across the flat planes of her stomach. She knew without doubt that her time with him had failed to yield the child she desired. No flutter of nascent life stirred her womb. Her body remained her own. She’d not even managed to do that right.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She’d been so convinced he could give her what she needed that she’d left no room for failure. He would leave today, and she must begin her search anew. But could she? Could she put aside the vision she’d created for herself of this dream child, this mingling of blood and bone and spirit between Rafe Fleming and herself that seemed now as real as the man asleep next to her?

Her shoulders shook with quiet sobs as if the child she loved had died or wandered away to be lost in the fog. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Only her nightmare ever affected her so. The unborn child became like her lover’s death upon the rocks, a sorrow to be held close to the heart.

“You weep.” Rafe’s eyes were upon her. His hand reached out to take her by the shoulder and gather her closer to him.

His warmth and the touch of his skin lessened the pain. He lowered his lips to hers in a slow, deep kiss that left her breathless. She wanted the taste of him to go on and on.

Pulling away, he smiled. “You aren’t crying over my leaving, are you?”

Was she? Rafe and the child had become so linked within her she wasn’t sure anymore. Searching to buy herself time, she turned her attention to the black-blue tattoo across his shoulder. She leaned up upon her elbows to examine the intricate design curling its way from his neck down along the slope of his shoulder to end over his collarbone.

“I spied this the night you came to me. What is it?” she asked, avoiding his question.

Rafe caught her hand in his own. “I had it done while I was stationed in the West Indies.”

She reached up and traced the line of it, brow furrowed in wonder. “But why a butterfly?” Her eyes met his, a smile upon her lips. “’Tis hardly a masculine image for a hard-bitten sailor.”

He laughed. “Your guess is as good as mine. I remember nothing beyond waking with the mark of it across my skin and a headache that could fell an ox. I was told later by a native of the islands that it symbolizes life and rebirth. Fitting for a man who lost everything and had to start over.”

Gwenyth’s hands ran across his chest and over his ribs to caress the wreckage of his back. Each ridge, each scar had been forged in pain, had made him the man he was, the man she wanted. She could admit it now. After last night. And the days before.

He’d burrowed deep within her. Set his brand upon her as clearly as he had been branded. She knew now it would be Rafe or no one.

His breath shallowed, his muscles tightening as she explored each mark with her fingertips, following as best she could the route of each stroke until it disappeared beneath the bandage. She tilted her head up. In the gathering light, she saw his jaw harden, his lips thin to a taut line. Her fingers paused above a narrow ridge of raised skin, but she held him close, not allowing him to escape back into himself.

“There’s a tragedy here, I’m thinking.” She spoke softly but didn’t drop her gaze from his face. “The destruction of one man, and the creation of a new one. Is this where Captain Fleming began? With the marks of the cat-o-nine-tail?”

He met her stare, and Gwenyth knew with but one swell of her gift she would see the horrible events that led to such a maiming. She dropped her eyes. She didn’t want to steal such memories.

“No,” he answered. “The destruction of Rafe Fleming began a year earlier in the summerhouse at Bodliam when Anabel Hillier called me a fool and a child.” He gave a shuddering breath and then another, but when he spoke again his voice was even and without emotion. “It only ended in Gibraltar Bay to the beat of ‘The Rogue’s March’ when six of his Majesty’s ships stood witness to my disgrace.” He gave a harsh, horrible laugh. “Twenty-five lashes beside each ship. I remained conscious until the fifth ship. If not for my family name and connections, I might have been executed. I wished at the time, they had. It would have been a hell of a lot less painful.”

She caught him closer to her, knowing he expected horror or disgust, reactions no doubt he’d received many times before. “Your family came to your aid?”

Rafe lifted his brows in cool surprise. “Aren’t you eager to know what I did to merit such a punishment?”

“The past does naught but muddle up the present. I mayn’t ken the whole of your thoughts, but my Sight tells me enough to know that you’re an honorable man, Rafe Fleming.” She flashed him a smile. “Dangerous, but honorable. ’Tis all I need to know.”

“If only my family thought the same as you. They wrote me off almost before the verdict was announced. They did just enough to keep me from hanging, nothing more. I sometimes think my father purposefully kept me from death simply to see me go through that torture. He was a heartless bastard.”

“Did you never go home?”

Rafe’s eyes glittered with an old bitterness. “No. My father made it clear from his one and only letter I was unwelcome and unwanted. I worked my way back to England and spent the next part of six months drunk and avoiding the press-gangs in Falmouth.” His lips curled in a bitter smile. “The rest is a story for another telling.”

“But you go home now.”

Even as Gwenyth spoke, the threads binding her to Rafe Fleming tightened. Each conversation, each glance and each brush of their bodies bound their stories together. The child sprang back into her mind, this time so real it was as if she stood breathing before her in the ruined garden.

“I set out to prove something. I’ve done that. I can go home and thumb my nose at everyone.” He grimaced. “A dream that has sustained me for over ten years. I only wish my father was still alive so that I might tell him exactly what I think of him.”

His dream was for vengeance. Well, she had a dream of her own. Gwenyth knew now she couldn’t deny the child who stood awaiting her, separated from this existence by only the thinnest of veils. She must put aside her misgivings and let the powers sweeping her up carry her to whatever end. And if that kept Rafe by her side, all the better. She’d imagined the two of them as man and wife last night. Entering into this deception might be as close as she ever got, but it would have to do.

She drew a deep breath. “Did you speak true when you asked for my help in seeking a bride?”

He caught his breath, but she couldn’t read the emotion flickering in the depths of his eyes.

Suspicion firmed the line of his jaw. “Why?”

She quieted the voice in her head telling her she was mad to go through with this. She could see no other way. “If you still want me, I’ll go with you when you leave. I’ll find your bride.”

His eyes widened, a smile lurking in their depths. “I’ve never been one to be modest when it comes to my love-making, but I can’t say it’s worked such a miracle of persuasion before. Why the change of heart?”

Gwenyth knew she must confess everything. She’d tried taking what she needed from him without his knowing and failed. Perhaps there was no creating this child without his knowledge and consent. “Remember when I spoke of seeking a man?”

He nodded, his eyes cautious.

“I choose you to be that man if you’ll agree. I want your seed. I need your help in conceiving my child.”

“The next Kerrow witch?”

“Call her what you like, but I need you to father her.” He opened his mouth to speak, but Gwenyth stopped him. “I ask no more than that you take me with you. Take me to your bed until I quicken and then allow me to return to my home. I’ll beg from you no favors, nor will I press my existence or that of my child upon you after she is born.”

“You would find me a bride in return for such a…a service?”

Gwenyth nodded, the knot in her chest growing rather than diminishing. She hadn’t told him everything, but some things she needed to keep back. Some things she could barely admit to herself. “I will do what I can.”

He shook his head in wonder. “I should tell you you’re mad, but I puzzled for two days over what threats or bribes I could use to get you to come back with me. Sex, you can be assured, was not on my list.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

He ran a gentle hand down Gwenyth’s arm as he pulled her once more against him. Rolled her underneath him, his arms upon either side of her head holding his full weight off her. Heat pooled in her stomach, and an ache of desire vibrated along her loins. She parted her legs as he entered her smoothly, filling her, making her gasp with the pleasure of their joining.

Just before he claimed her in a kiss, he smiled, eyes alight with mischief; a ghost expression mirrored moments earlier upon the child of her vision. “With pleasure, I’ll do it.” He spoke in a silky whisper. “I can only pray you are slow to conceive.”