The Lady of the Storm - 2 (23 page)

And they both held on to one another as if they could never let go while they slowly drifted upright, back to the surface of the lake.

Giles watched as her head slowly broke the surface, now some beautiful naiad brought to earth for his private pleasure. Water dripped down the curve of her nose, saturated her eyelashes to form a dark circle around her eyes, making them appear even larger and more crystalline. Her hair curved about her face like ribbons of midnight, and her lips captured droplets in the curve of her smile.

The urge to say something meaningful enough to bring tears to his eyes made him take refuge in a cocky smile. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Right under your nose.”

“Aye, and me too stupid to do anything about it.”

She laughed, as he’d hoped she would, and swam back to shore. Giles did not have a prayer of meeting her stride in her element, and truth be told, his muscles felt like jelly, so he lazily swam after her, admiring the sight of her wiggling bottom as she emerged from the water and walked across the riverbank.

They shared their meal that night with laughter and old memories of the village. And if Giles noticed a hint of sadness creep back into her eyes, he quickly teased her until wicked merriment replaced it. And when they both crawled beneath the blankets to sleep, nothing could stop the both of them from falling into complete oblivion.

***

Giles awoke with his hand on his sword and her hair against his lips. He breathed in the faintly floral scent of it, kissed the black strands for good measure, and rose.

He felt as if he ruled the world.

With a self-mocking smile, he stoked up the fire, spitted the fish they’d caught last night after they’d made love, remembering the laughter as Cecily tossed him one squiggling catch after another. She could be a wicked wanton one moment and a funny companion the next, with a healthy dose of proper lady betwixt and between.

Giles never thought to marry. Because he’d never thought to fall in love with a woman like Cecily. And now he could not wait for her to wake, to find the nearest village and make their bond legal. It would be done before they returned to London, and even the fire lord himself could not gainsay it. Giles would give the elven lord the ring, and Sir Robert the secret of the Seven Corners of Hell and a crystal flute containing an enchanted tune.

And Giles would take Cecily. A prize worth all the rest, and then some.

He sat near the blankets and watched her sleep, feeling like a fool but unable to help himself. The birds twittered so loudly amongst the trees that he couldn’t believe she slept through the racket. A soft breeze blew off the river, tickling the hair tumbling across her cheeks until he could resist the impulse no longer, and carefully smoothed back the errant strands.

Her eyes fluttered open to stare at his face, and she sat up with a start.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, an unfamiliar heat rushing to his face. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Cecily gave him a hesitant smile, her gaze wandering across his features for a time, until her smile slowly firmed and warmth flooded those faceted blue irises. She reached up and placed her hand over his left cheek, and he turned his face and kissed her palm.

Her sigh was all the invitation Giles needed.

In one lithe movement he threw back the blanket and crouched over her, his hands flat on the ground beside her head, his knees next to her thighs. His hair flowed over his shoulders to surround her face, her black locks a strong contrast against his white.

She had worn nothing but her chemise to sleep in, her nipples outlined clearly beneath the thin fabric. He let his gaze wander over them for a moment before he lowered his head and kissed each peak.

Cecily arched toward him.

Giles drew back and smiled at her. “Last night I allowed you control, but now we are on dry land and it is my turn.”

Before she could reply, he dipped his head and kissed her lips, a long lingering caress that stole her breath. He trailed a path along her check to the tips of her pointed ears, whispering what he planned to do to her, until she started to pant and squirm.

“I have no magic but my love for you, lady.”

She wound her fingers in his hair, making his scalp tingle. “That is all I need, Giles. More than I had ever thought to have.”

He kissed her again, long and slow, while he gently tugged up her chemise, exposing her breasts. She shivered, and he did not think the gentle breeze caused her reaction. He trailed kisses down to her neck this time, suckled gently at the skin there, smiling at her startled gasp.

Apollo snorted off in the distance, an answering wicker from Belle, comforting sounds that told Giles they would have no interruptions.

His mouth lazily wandered to her breasts. They were beautiful, firm and full, with rosy peaks that begged his attention. He licked first one, and then the other, circling them with his tongue for good measure. She tasted divine.

“Giles,” she whispered, her hands wandering over his bare back, making his flesh tingle in response.

He lowered his body, leaning on one elbow, leaving one hand free to explore while his tongue continued to play with her now-taut pink buds. When he trailed his fingers over her thighs she opened her legs without a single prompt from him.

Giles hid his wicked smile against her bare flesh.

He explored her moist folds, ran his fingers through her silky stiff hair, lifting his head for a moment to gaze at the sheer perfection of her body. Flawless, luminescent elven skin, pale as milk without a single blemish to interrupt the smooth expanse of it.

He had never seen a more beautiful woman. The thought that she was truly his, after so many years of wanting her and knowing he could never have her, made his heart leap inside his chest.

Giles glanced into her face and those blue faceted eyes drew him in.

“You are mine,” he said, surprised at the huskiness of his voice. “I will always be your protector.”

She did not answer. They stared at each other for a timeless moment, until the earth seemed to pause, and the birds ceased their raucous calls, and the very wind hushed to witness the love between them.

Giles slipped a finger inside her moist heat.

“You are mine,” he repeated.

She arched her back.

Fie, she felt tight and wet and utterly magnificent. He slipped in another finger. She trembled. He hesitated to slip in another; she felt so small. How had she managed to take him all in?

But she had, and was a virgin no longer.

With one quick movement he pushed his fingers deep inside her and smiled when she gasped, bucking against his hand.

“Tell me,” he growled, penetrating her deeply again.

“I… I am yours. I have always been… Giles, I need more.”

He mounted her in one smooth movement, gritting his teeth for control. She felt so right. So perfect. He kept one hand between her legs to stroke her nub while he copied the rhythm with slow, deep thrusts, watching as her lids drifted closed, her lips parting on a sigh.

He’d had sex with many women. He’d made love to none but her. His heart and soul gave her as much as his body offered, if not more.

Cecily dug her nails into his back, grasped his bottom in urgent demand.

But he would not hurry toward that peak. He continued his gentle movements, loving her with each stroke, making her pant and cry out his name. Time and again she neared the precipice and he froze inside of her, arms trembling with the willpower it required.

And then he would resume his loving, her desire more easily stroked, building to an even greater height than before.

Until finally, with a groan of sheer delight, she fell.

Giles quickly followed, gathering her close against him until he could feel the pounding of her heart echo the throbbing of his own release.

When the world managed to right itself he kissed her tenderly, smoothed the silky hair off her moist forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I know,” she replied. “I felt it. I did not know it could be so… wondrous.”

He could not help but smile. Precious lady.

Cecily took a deep breath, released it on a sigh, and took another. “I smell roasted fish.” Her stomach grumbled.

Giles laughed. “Indeed, my lady. Let me fetch you some… although I fear it may be burnt by now.”

He quickly put words to action and handed her the fish. She took the stick from his hand and carefully peeled away the charred outer part, picking off pieces of white meat and popping them in her mouth, watching him break camp as she chewed.

“We will find the nearest village,” said Giles as he rolled their dingy clothing from yesterday into a tight ball, “and find the parsonage straight away. I won’t wait for you to change costume, mind you, so you’ll have to be married in whatever clean gown you have left.” He turned and threw her a wink to soften the command in his words, but he meant every bit of it.

“I think… I think it would be best if we made straightway to Oxford, Giles.”

Her softly spoken words staggered him for a moment, and he jerked the ties of their baggage in place with a bit too much force. “Why?”

Giles heard her soft footsteps as she neared him, felt the warmth of her hand against the back of his shoulder, but he did not turn around. He could not. He spoke his deepest fear. “Have you changed your mind?”

“No. No, of course not.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, his old insecurities of the gulf between their social stations had risen to threaten him again. His worry that Cecily would not wish to wed against Thomas’s wishes. Just because he had managed to overcome those obstacles, did not mean that she…

He turned. “Again I ask you. Why?”

She looked at him with her heart still in her eyes, and it puzzled him even more. “Oxford had such lovely churches. Wouldn’t it be grand to marry in one of them?”

Giles frowned. He knew her well enough to know she would prefer a quiet marriage in a small town, a setting similar to the village they had left behind. He had believed her wholeheartedly when she’d professed her rejection of the title and the grandeur that it could provide her.

“Cecily,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation, “tell me the real reason you want to hie off to Oxford.”

She lifted her small hand and placed it against his cheek. Then she leaned up on her toes and kissed him. He could not help it when his arms pulled her close, when he responded to the touch of her mouth. But he would not allow her to distract him. At least, not until after he finished thoroughly kissing her.

Despite their prolonged loving just moments ago, his body responded to the feel of her warm body against his, and only the thought that she had to ride today stopped him from carrying her back to their bedding.

Which he just might do if he didn’t stop this now. He pulled away and tossed the hair away from his face. “Tell me.”

Cecily placed her hand against his left cheek yet again. “The Seven Corners of Hell… marked you with its magic.”

He blinked at her stupidly for a moment, then reached up and pushed her hand away, scratching at his cheek. It still itched. Where that monster had clawed him. His elven blood should have healed that small scratch by now.

Giles stalked to the river, trying to see his reflection in the water. But it rippled too much, and he could make out only a darkish image of his face. An even darker splotch covering the left side of it.

“How long have I looked like this?”

“Since… since the Seven Corners of Hell… just before we escaped the black flame.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. But Professor Higley said a colleague of his was studying the creatures that emerged from that wild forest. Perhaps he could tell us.”

Giles spun. Had the creature he’d fought passed on some disease with that small scratch? “Tell us, what, exactly? Whether I’m going to turn into a monster or not?”

She blinked, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. “No, Giles. You assured me that would not happen.”

He closed the distance between them, her sorrow outweighing his fear. “Yes, yes of course, hush, and do not cry. All will be well, I promise. We will go see Professor Higley and his friend. I’m sure it is nothing.”

And so they rode for Oxford, Giles assuring Cecily the entire way that it was but a scratch and nothing to worry about, until he half-believed it himself.

Until they reached Oxford toward evening.

The university streets thronged with students returning home from their studies, costermongers trying to sell the last of their wares, and box chairs bringing home the gentry… or perhaps taking them out for the evening. As usual, the crowd parted before Giles, more than one glance cast warily toward the sword at his side. But unlike the last time they’d ridden through these same streets, the reactions of people when they glanced at his face were entirely different.

Giles had been aware of his good looks since he’d reached puberty. He’d never questioned his ability to attract others, especially those of the opposite sex. He hadn’t considered himself vain. It was but a fact from constant observation.