Midnight Eyes (12 page)

He threw her a worried glance, but did as she told him. He found the faint circles quickly, pressing them in sequence. He couldn’t stop himself from being fascinated as each dipped ever so slightly under his gentle push. As he pressed the last circle, the passageway echoed with the sound of rusty gears grinding into life.

“Damn me,” he said as the door swung open, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Roger hired a Moor to design it. As I recall, he was quite pleased with the results.” She shivered again. Her stomach clenched. Now just mentioning his name in this place of his creation seemed a little like conjuring a devil.

She thrust the torch toward Robert. “Here, take this thing. I hardly need it,” she said harshly.

He moved back quickly as the flame came a little too close, but not quickly enough, judging by the smell of scorched hair that filled the air, he thought wryly. He carefully took the torch from her trembling hand. He watched her face closely, not able to quash the concern that was now churning though his gut. He could feel the tension that radiated from her, smell her fear. It made the locked tower a sinister place, a place of dark secrets, and he didn’t like it, he realized grimly.

Tension entered his shoulders. He was a veteran of too many wars not to know the folly of ignorance and right now he knew so little he felt like he was fighting an unseen enemy with one hand tied behind his back.

He set his jaw and curled his free hand around Imogen’s before stepping into the tower room.

What his torch illuminated caused him to stop stock-still in shock. He wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting in Imogen’s dark tower, but he knew that this wasn’t it.

The place was a treasure trove!

Along one wall a staircase curled around and up through the ceiling. Every other spare inch of space seemed to be taken up with a jumble of objects that filled the chamber to overflowing. Furniture sat beside rolls of fur rugs and tapestries. Wooden crates were packed one on top of the other. Some had toppled over and revealed flashes of silver and gold.

One of the fallen boxes even revealed a pile of valuable books that had been scattered carelessly over the stone floor; their jewel-encrusted leather covers gleaming in the light of his torch.

“Mother of God!” he breathed out. “What the hell is all this stuff?”

Her smile was both bright and brittle. “My life.” She let go of his hand and started to feel her way forward. Robert paused only to light a candle that had been placed in a holder near the door and put the makeshift torch into a wall sconce before following silently behind her.

She touched one of the rolled tapestries and ran a shaky hand over the back of the tiny stitches.

“What’s the design?”

Her voice was quiet, and Robert could hear the pain that reverberated through it. He carefully placed the candle on a nearby box and dragged the tapestry off the stack. He clumsily unrolled it and gave it a shake, showering them both with a fine layer of dust. He looked carefully at the simple tapestry, uncomfortably aware that in normal circumstances he’d barely have noticed it.

“It’s a forest scene of some sort.” He gave an awkward shrug. He’d never felt quite this inadequate before. “There is some kind of flower border. In the top right-hand corner there seems to be a group of hunters, and at the bottom a group of ladies and minstrels are feasting and they are being watched by an odd horse.”

She ran her hand over the stitches, the picture rising from the darkness of her memories. “Not a horse; a unicorn. It hung in my father’s armory. Mother hated weapons of war in her home and would only tolerate them if the room could be made to look as little like an armory as possible.” A whisper of a smile filtered over her face. “When Father wasn’t looking, she would get the servants to cover the swords and bows with cloth, and when she wasn’t looking he would have them removed again.

“I’d almost forgotten about that,” she said, a sad acceptance etching itself on her face.

Robert’s hand clenched tightly around the fabric and he had to force himself to let it go.

“Can you see the books?” she asked, unaware of his rising anger in her eagerness for more reunions.

“Yes,” he answered quietly.

She felt for his hand and held on to it tightly. “Take me to them.”

He helped her pick her way through the boxes, furniture and rolls of fabric. They knelt in front of the disorderly pile of books. Robert could almost feel her excitement inside himself. She held out her hands expectantly.

Robert hesitated a second, then placed the first volume carefully in them.

She ran her hand over the surface and lowered her nose to inhale the scent of leather, parchment, glue and gilt. This time when she smiled, it was almost luminous with its intensity. Robert had to fight off the feeling that he was intruding on a personal moment, but he watched her intently as she gripped the book tightly to her chest, his anger burning hot. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Imogen, why?” he asked tightly.

“Why what?” Her voice sounded remote as her hands moved lovingly over the old leather.

“Why aren’t these things that you clearly love so much at the Keep near you?” Robert’s voice pulsed with repressed anger. “Why weren’t you surrounded with things that were familiar to you when you lost your sight? Why, Imogen?”

“Ah, that ‘why.’” She turned to him, her smile bittersweet with pain. “Because that would have made it too easy and Roger didn’t want to make it easy. He wanted to bleed me till I was obedient. He wanted me to give in and he thought that this”—she gracefully gestured to encompass the room—“would encourage that obedience.”

She sat down, curling one arm around her knees, while the other held the book tightly to her chest, and began to rock gently back and forth. “Every visit he tells me of all the things he has locked in here, tells me how to get in here. Each time he leaves knowing that the information is burning into my brain. Sometimes as a refinement he brings me something, lets me hold it before stealing it away again, saying I can only keep them if I—”

“If you what?” Robert was abstractly surprised at how calm he managed to sound when everything inside of him demanded violence.

Now wasn’t the time. That pleasure would have to wait; now he needed information. Information Imogen was deliberately withholding from him in her silence. He watched as she drew subtly away from him into those parts of her mind to which he had no access. Fear of losing her to her demons galvanized him into action. He tore the book from her grasp and threw it heedlessly onto the floor, ignoring her gasp of protest. He grabbed hold of her shoulder and shook her.

“If you what, Imogen? Tell me.”

She raised her hands and held on to his biceps to steady herself. She could feel the iron of his muscles under his tunic. He was so strong, she thought dazedly, but that strength was protective instead of threatening. Suddenly she longed for the safety Robert represented, longed to lean into it, to never have to be alone in the dark again.

“Kiss me.” Her voice was just a husky whisper, surprising herself as much as him. The silence that followed was deafening.

When Robert made no move, need drove Imogen to press a chaste kiss on his warm lips, but she realized with frustration that it wasn’t enough. She leaned up and kissed him more boldly. His mouth remained firmly closed until he felt her tongue flick along it with small, butterfly movements, then he groaned and pulled her close, claiming her lips as his.

She snaked her hands over his arms, along the contours of his broad shoulders. It wasn’t enough. She moved her hands down his sides, playing along the muscles, muscles she longed to touch, skin to skin. She pulled ineffectually at his tunic.

He pulled his lips free of hers and searched her passion-flushed face. “Is this what you want?” he asked fiercely, but all she heard was his gentle concern. It was that gentleness that made up her mind.

She was going to be daring and grab the elusive happiness her instinct told her this moment was going to give her.

In this place built for her torment she was going to, once and for all, destroy all of her memories of Roger violating her soul, if not yet her body. They were going to be replaced with the cleansing memories of this man, who gruffly waited for her to give him permission to do what they both wanted, to become her husband in deed as well as word.

“Take your tunic off,” she murmured, her hands moving desperately to the offending garment’s hem.

He carefully moved her hands up to his clothed chest and covered both of them with one of his. “I’m serious, Imogen. I’m only a man, and if we don’t stop now, I won’t stop till you are my wife in every sense of the word.”

She seemed to look him straight in the eye. “I don’t want you to stop.”

A rational part of him counseled caution, but it was drowned out by the desire that burned him clear through to his soul. He lifted his other hand and pulled off his cloak. The tunic followed.

She leaned forward and placed a kiss on the center of his bare chest. He closed his eyes for a moment as the air in his lungs turned to fire. He brought her face to his and captured her lips in a devouring kiss, and set about freeing her of her garments. He lifted his head briefly to see his handiwork.

The bodice of the dress had slipped off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze, their alabaster perfection peaked by rose-pink nipples that tightened in the cool air.

“You’re perfect,” he said as he lifted a calloused finger to trace the faint blue veins under her white skin.

A nervous giggle caught in her throat. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Oh, no, don’t just take my word for it. Let me show you just how perfect.”

He lowered his head and she nearly levitated as his mouth followed his touch. She threw back her head to moan her ecstasy and thrust her breasts out closer to his touch. He lifted both of his hands to frame her soft beauty and lifted his head so that his breath scorched her moist flesh.

“See, perfect,” he said tightly as he lowered his head, once more trailing kisses from one breast to the other, quickly finding her other aching nipple.

He was right, this was perfection. And it was only beginning. Whenever she had dared to think about this moment, she had thought only of the pain and darkness she had known before, but with Robert she felt only wanted and cherished. When he reached round her and pulled one of the furs onto the floor she found herself clumsily trying to help him, wanting this precious moment like she had never wanted anything before. Carefully Robert covered its dusty surface with his cloak before gently laying her back against it, divesting her of the rest of her clothes.

The beauty of her naked body stole his breath away. From the white swell of her hips to the delicate curve of her instep, it was all beyond anything his lurid imagination had been able to create. He quickly shed his leggings and joined her, reveling in the way she greeted him with open arms.

She couldn’t stop herself from flinching instinctively as she felt his manhood press hot, hard and naked against her thigh, her bravery deserting her for a moment.

Robert frowned, carefully watching her face closely for any sign of fear. Gently, he moved her hands to that part of him. “I would have you know me,” he said roughly, guiding her hands along his arousal.

With curious fingers she moved slowly over the length of him. She ran a fingertip over the satin of his shaft, touched the pearl of moisture at the tip and buried her hand in the coarse hair at the base. She encircled him completely and gently squeezed.

He groaned out loud, and she smiled, realizing for the first time that in this, she too had a power, one that went far beyond mere physical strength. Teasingly she moved to pull her hands away but he stopped her.

“No. Stay,” he said raggedly and he withstood her exploration until his passion reached a fever pitch that could no longer be denied. He needed her.

With shaking hands he removed hers, wrapping her arms around his neck as he covered her body with his own, snaring her lips in another drugging kiss. His hands played over her body to tangle in the moist curls at the juncture of her thighs and with the pad of one calloused finger he gently felt her readiness for him in her scalding heat.

Lifting himself, he spread her legs and fitted his body along hers, touching her intimately with the heat of him. A groan rose from her throat as her body opened to receive that part of him that she could feel throbbing intimately against her.

Her breath came out raggedly. The need she was feeling was painful. Need rode her, making her move herself against him frantically, blatantly inviting him to ease her aching. Instead of giving in to her silent demand, he held back and teased her to a new peak of desire, driving her mad.

Finally, he slowly braced himself on his elbows and kept his fevered eyes locked on her face as he began to rock forward. She grabbed on to his arms, caught in a sense of wonderment and destiny as her body stretched to accommodate him. She moved her hips, silently encouraging him to take all she had to give, to take it all now.

Sweat pooled at his temples and trickled down his back, as the restraint required to stop from burying himself in her began to fracture. He was stopped completely, however, by the fragile barrier of her maidenhead.

“Imogen, there is going to be some pain. Oh, God, I wish there didn’t have to be, but it won’t be for long.”

The cords on his neck strained with the effort he was exerting to stay still. She could feel that tension as it radiated down his arms and through his body, could feel it in the slick layer of sweat that covered him despite the chill.

She lifted a hand to the tense line of his lips. “I trust you,” she said simply.

It was the most erotic thing he had ever heard and it broke his control completely. With a helpless groan his hips thrust mindlessly forward.

The sting of pain made Imogen gasp in surprise, but within moments the pain evaporated, as she became accustomed to the strange new sensations of completeness. Now the pain was gone, her need burned even brighter than before. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him close to the heart of her and to the ache of her clamoring desire.