Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (21 page)

“May I join you in your insomnia,
then?”

“Absolutely.”

She leaned her head
affectionately against his arm and he kissed the top of her head, eventually
putting his arm around her and pulling her close.  Together, they gazed off
across the moonlit night.

“I never thought I would be happy
ever again,” he murmured. “But I find I am so joyful that I am actually eager
for the future. I have never felt that way before.”

She smiled up at him, her
porcelain face framed by the dark blue cloak. “Nor have I,” she said. “I will
confess that I imagine what our children will look like. Perhaps we will have
six girls who look just like me.”

He laughed softly as she giggled.
“I could only be so blessed,” he replied, brushing a stray lock of red hair
from her cheek. “I cannot imagine a house full of little Chloës but I am sure
it would be a loud and beautiful place. I would have men from here to the Holy
Land beating down my door.”

She continued giggling. “Or, we
could just as easily have six boys in your image.”

He grunted. “I could field my own
army with a powerful group like that. It would make me the envy of all men.”

She watched his expression, her
smile fading as she thought on sons of Keir St. Hèver. “Was your son just like
you?” she asked softly.

He looked down at her, seriousness
in his gaze.  After a moment’s reflection, he nodded. “Just like me,” he
replied. “Merritt was a big lad with very blond hair.  He had a little wooden
sword that I had given him and he used to carry it around constantly. He would
try to fight me and the other knights with it.”

She could see the pain in his
eyes as he spoke even though his expression remained somewhat warm. She reached
up and gently stroked his cheek.

“He is out there, somewhere,” she
murmured. “I will help you search for him. We will not stop until we find him.”

The warmth returned to his eyes
and he kissed her on the forehead. “That is sweet of you,” he murmured. “Truth
be told, I am not sure where else to look. I spent a year wandering the north
of England looking for any sign of him but there was none.  I have paid people
for information, thrashed and threatened them to tell me what they knew, but
nothing I was able to glean came to fruition. I try not to grow discouraged but
it is difficult.”

Chloë sighed faintly, rubbing his
cheek with her soft palm. “Someone, somewhere, knows something about him,” she
assured him. “We will find that person and we will bring Merritt home.”

Keir hugged her tightly, thinking
on his blond-haired son and the sadness the memories provoked.  It was
difficult not to become disheartened at all of the failure he had met with in
the search for his little boy.  He’d spent so much time focused on finding him
alive that when the dark fingers of depression grabbed at him, it was
increasingly difficult to fight them off.

“He has probably forgotten about
me,” he muttered, letting his disenchantment show through. “He was so young
when he disappeared. He probably does not even remember who I am.”

She could hear the despair in his
voice and she shifted so her arms were wrapped around his torso.  She gazed
into his handsome face.

“He will remember the man who
gave him a wooden sword,” she assured him softly. “I am very much looking
forward to meeting Me-Me and I have little doubt that someday, we will find
him.”

He tried to be positive along
with her. “It is my hope,” he said sincerely. “Speaking of Me-Me, did you
receive any more visits from our little ghost girl during the time we did not
speak? I assumed you would tell me if you did.”

She shook her head. “Oddly
enough, she has not come back and I am worried about her.”

“Worried? Why?”

Chloë shrugged. “I suppose
because I feel so sorry for her, this little ghost girl who is looking for her
little brother.  She is all alone and I feel very badly for her.”

Keir fell silent a moment. “I
have a confession,” he murmured. “There were times when you were not in your
chamber and I went in, calling to Frances and seeing if she would come to me.”

Chloë looked at him, not
surprised by his admission.  As a caring father, she expected nothing less.
“And?”

He shook his head. “She never
appeared.”

He seemed sad about it.  Chloë
hugged him gently. “Not to worry,” she whispered. “We will all be together
again someday. I have faith in you, Keir. You are not a man who knows failure.”

He was touched by her words, by
her respect for him. She made him feel strong again and he hugged her tightly,
rocking her sweetly in the moonlight and thinking on the future for all of
them, his brother and Cassandra included.  Thoughts of Merritt drifted from his
mind as he began to think on his somber brother and how much Chloë’s sister had
brought the man out of his shell.

“Is Cassandra awake also?” he
asked softly.

Chloë’s thoughts shifted from
Merritt to her sister.  “She is not in her chamber so I would assume so.”

Keir thought on all of the
greater implications of that statement and of his brother, so quiet and
serious, yet with a decidedly lusty streak in him. While Kurtis had accused
Michael of his rutting ways, it was a fact that Kurtis liked it hard, fast and
frequent. He wondered how Cassandra would deal with that hot blooded aspect of
her new husband but he didn’t say anything to Chloë about it. If Cassandra
wanted her sister to know, she would tell her. 

 “I thought she was the sister
who had accompanied you to Pendragon so you would not be unchaperoned and fall
victim to men’s wiles,” he teased. “Now you tell me she is not in her bed?  I
find that shocking.”

Chloë giggled as she gazed up at
him. “If she is only half as joyful as I am, then I am sure she and Kurtis are
being sleepless together.”

Keir grinned, kissing the end of
her nose and cupping her face with a great hand, stroking her velvety cheek
with his thumb.

“We will spend many nights like
this together, I assure you,” he murmured, bending down to kiss her soft mouth.
“I do not intend to ever let you out of my sight, not even for a moment.”

Chloë responded to his kiss,
delivering a heated one of her own.  Keir’s body language changed dramatically
at her lusty response as he pushed against her, his hands coming up to hold her
head still as his mouth feasted on her warm lips. Seconds before, he had been
affectionate but proper. Now he was a man in love, his physical needs gaining
the better of his self control now that he knew Chloë would be his wife. There
was no reason to restrain himself in the least, so he devoured her tender lips,
his tongue tasting her mouth before moving on to her cheeks and neck. 

In his grasp, Chloë gasped softly
in awakening passion. Keir feasted on the flesh of her neck before returning to
her mouth and kissing her so hard that Chloë had to tear her mouth away or
suffocate.  As she gasped for air, he began to come to his senses and realize
he was ravaging her for all to see. She was his now, legally, and his
self-restraint was suffering. He stopped kissing her and put an arm around her,
pulling her towards the southeast tower.

“Come,” he said softly.

Chloë was still trying to catch
her breath. “Where are we going?”

“Where Kurtis and Cassandra have
gone.”

She looked queerly at him as he
grinned, taking her down the narrow spiral stairs to the bailey below. It was
cold and dark in the bailey, being patrolled by soldiers and torches, as Keir
put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards the keep.

“Where are you taking me?” Chloë
could see the keep looming head.

“I am taking my betrothed back to
her chamber,” he told her, noting her look of disappointment. He grinned. “Not
to worry, love. I will not leave you alone.”

She fought off a smile as they
entered the keep. The great hall was directly in front of them, the spiral
stairs that led to the upper floors to the left.  There were still people in
the great hall, drinking and talking, and Keir peered inside, keeping his gaze
on Coverdale and Anton at the great table as he motioned Chloë up the stairs. 
She slipped up the stairs, racing to the third floor as quietly as she could. 
As she hit the landing, Keir suddenly appeared behind her and together, they
silently made their way into Chloë’s borrowed chamber and quietly bolted the
door.

Chloë was giggling as she removed
her cloak. “If my father knew you were here with me, he would have something to
say about it.”

Keir cocked an eyebrow, spying a
pitcher of wine in the corner and moving for it. “I am your betrothed now and,
by God and the law, already your husband. Your father cannot do anything about
it.”

Chloë’s grin turned somewhat shy
as she put her cloak away. “Do you have lascivious intentions then, my lord?”

He laughed softly. “The first
moment I saw you, I had lascivious intentions.”

She gasped in feigned outrage.
“How can you say such a thing? We were battling one another when first we met.”

He went to her, wrapping his arms
around her. “Do you remember when you ran from me at first? I chased you and
you ended up tripping. I fell atop you. Do you recall?”

She did, sort of. “I believe so.
Why?

He gave her a seductive
expression, pulling her closer. “I remember feeling soft flesh beneath me, even
through the layers of armor.”

She blushed furiously. “You did
not.”

“I did.  Soft, warm, delicious
female flesh.”

She giggled again and tried to
pull away but he would not hear of it.  He pulled her close, nuzzling her neck,
running his hands through all of that miraculous hair.  He adored her hair. He
bent down to kiss her, gently at first, but as his passion roared, he picked
her up and held her fiercely against him.  Chloë wrapped her arms around his
neck and held on tightly as he carried her over to the bed.

The bed was massive, four posters
with a great curtain around it, and it sat back in the corner in the shadows. A
low fire burned in the hearth, flames licking at the fireback and sending
undulating golden light into the room. Keir laid Chloë upon the bed, his mouth
fused to hers, trying not to jab her with the armor still on his body.  Keeping
his mouth on hers, he began to remove the cold steel pieces.

Chloë’s arms were around his neck
as he kissed her and she could feel him moving about unstrapping pieces of
armor.  She could hear things falling to the floor.  When he was down to his
mail coat, he pulled his mouth away from hers and silently stood up, bending
over and deftly removing the mail coat.  The big mailed garment was very heavy
and he tossed it aside, listening to it make a big commotion as it fell on the
floor. Clad only in a damp tunic, breeches and big boots, he returned his
attention to Chloë.

She was sitting up on the bed
now, watching him practically disrobe before her.  Without a word, he sat down
beside her on the bed, his eyes drifting over the dark bronze damask surcoat
that so deliciously emphasized her shapely torso.  White cleavage daringly
peaked out from the neckline of the surcoat and Keir’s gaze was lustily drawn
to it. One arm went around her shoulders as the other went to her torso, and he
pulled her close again, his mouth on her neck as the hand on her torso began to
gently stroke her belly.

“You are so incredibly
beautiful,” he murmured, kissing her sweet flesh. “I do not know what I have
done in life to warrant such a prize as you, but rest assured that I will never
take you for granted and I will always treat you with the greatest respect.”

Chloë’s eyes were closed as he
nuzzled her neck, the hand on her belly moving gently to her ribcage. She was
so overwhelmed with his hot breath on her skin and his delicate touch that she
threw her arms around his neck, falling back onto the bed and pulling him with
her.  Keir gladly lay down, his enormous body half-covering her own.

His seeking lips found her mouth
and he resumed kissing her with the greatest of passion.  The hand on her belly
moved to the under swell of her breast and she gasped softly as she felt his
hand against her bosom, pausing a moment with wide eyes to look at him. Keir
gazed back at her, steadily, before dipping low to gently kiss her cheek. As he
nuzzled her soft skin, his hand moved up and fully enclosed her right breast
against the palm.  He squeezed gently, fondling her, and Chloë groaned softly
when she realized how good it felt.

Keir heard her groan and his
kisses resumed with force.  He couldn’t seem to kiss her enough, taste her
enough, and the hand on her breast grew bolder. Fingers slipped along the
neckline, trying to pull it away somehow, but the bodice fit snuggly against
her body.  As his passion grew and their kisses grew more heated, Keir didn’t
have the patience to properly disrobe her. He took hold of the top of her
bodice and ripped it in half in one swift, clean motion.

Chloë gasped with shock as her
bodice fell away and her pure white flesh was exposed.  Before she could make
any manner of protest, Keir’s mouth was on her soft white cleavage and his palm
was against her naked breast.  A pink nipple, soft and taunting, rubbed against
his hand and, with a growl, his hot mouth descended upon it, suckling
furiously.