Twilight Magic (14 page)

Hellfire. Maura must have told Emma about William’s offer of ownership. Then, as now, the wolfhound wasn’t a gift he could accept. The hound should have a home, and a mercenary’s home could be a tent near a battlefield, a barracks in a castle, or the hard ground beneath the stars.

And, aye, Maura could well have turned the hound loose to force him into accepting her. Which he couldn’t do.

“Rose’s rightful place is at Hadone. She does not belong to me, but to Earl William.”

Emma said naught, just gave him a look that said he was wrong and shouldn’t bother to deny it.

“We cannot take her with us.”

“Certes, we can. She would be no trouble whatever. Truth to tell, she might prove useful. Think of her as a fellow soldier, one you can trust to guard your back. Would that not be an advantage when roaming about Southwark?”

Rose leaned against Emma, looking up at him with pleading brown eyes. It wasn’t fair that he must deal with two willful females united against him. Not that they could overpower him if he set his resolve.

Except on further contemplation, Emma’s argument made sense, though not in the way she thought. Rose would make an excellent guard, not for him, but for Emma. He could leave Emma in any inn for any length of time and not worry over her safety. If ordered to
guard,
Rose would tear the hand off anyone who dared touch Emma.

For that reason alone, a short while later, Darian led his own horse through the Kentish countryside, with Emma settled comfortably in the saddle, a wolfhound trotting merrily beside him.

“Ye cannot keep that big beast in here,” the innkeeper stated firmly. “Tie it up outside. I will not have it scaring my patrons.”

Emma opened her mouth to protest; Darian beat her to it.

“You want her tied outside? You do it. And then do not complain to me if she howls all night.”

The innkeeper’s nose scrunched in annoyance, glaring at Rose, who sat at Emma’s side in the common room of his slovenly kept establishment. Those few patrons who sat at ale-stained tables, which wobbled on an uneven plank floor, stayed seated, likely deciding they had best stay well clear of the hound. Emma could hardly blame them. Rose
was
a big beast.

“Then ye will have to pay for the private room and take her up with you.”

Private meant costly. Darian pulled a leather purse from the folds of his cloak and began placing coins on the wide wooden plank that served as the inn’s bar.

“We shall take the room. We also require stew, bread, and ale, and board for my horse. Is there a brazier in the room?”

The innkeeper nodded.

“Have it lit, with a bucket of charcoal placed beside it.” Grunting, the innkeeper scooped up the coins. “Have a seat. I will have yer food brought out while I see to the room. Be sure ye keep that beast close.”

“She is likely better behaved than most of your patrons. She will cause no trouble.”

“Best not, or I will toss ye all out.”

No, he wouldn’t, Emma knew. Darian had paid more coin for their board and bread than the innkeeper likely earned in a month or more.

They took a table at the far end of the room. Emma settled precariously on an unstable stool near the hearth’s fire, the crack and hiss of burning wood as comforting as the heat.

Darian eased onto the stool next to her; Rose plopped down at their feet. Having earlier caught and devoured her own supper of hare, the wolfhound seemed ready for sleep.

For that matter, so did Darian. He’d walked most of the way, insisting she ride in the saddle. Misplaced gallantry, to her way of thinking, but arguing had proved futile until late in the day. He’d ridden the last few leagues only to ensure they arrived in London before nightfall.

“My apologies for the poor lodgings,” he said. “I fear the stew and ale will be thin, the bread brown and coarse, and the bed uncomfortable.”

She’d already assumed as much. “Perhaps on the morrow we can find better, but for now, we have shelter and it is all I require.”

Indeed, the meal proved as scanty as they’d feared, and by the time the innkeeper announced the room readied, Emma’s thoughts had turned to the comfort of the bed and who would sleep in it.

The room stank of dust and mold. The mattress bore visible lumps. The glow coming from the claw-footed brazier provided meager light.

The door’s latch snapped closed and Darian threw the bolt, shutting the three of them away for what might prove to be a restless night.

Rose sprawled at the foot of the bed, her eyes closing even before she arranged her legs to her satisfaction.

Soon all Emma could hear was her deepened breathing, feel her heartbeat quickening. For the second time she was private with Darian in a room with a bed, and this time she didn’t suffer a headache.

She eased off her cloak, warmed more from her now-racing, wanton thoughts than the heat from the brazier.

Would tonight be the night her vision of Darian came true? Would he wear that glorious smile and naught else, holding out his hand in invitation?

Heaven help her, but she hoped so, if only to prove she’d done right to interfere so boldly in his life. That she’d not made a mistake to put her own affairs aside, for a time, to save Darian from hanging.

If her vision didn’t come to pass, then all she’d done had been for naught and she could hardly bear the thought.

And she wanted the kiss she’d been denied this morn when Rose had joined them. Their lips had been a breath apart, so close and too far away. Not that Emma minded Rose’s appearance, just wished the hound had waited a few minutes longer.

As she turned to hang her cloak over Darian’s on the single peg by the door, he stepped past her, crossed the room, and opened the shutters. With hands gripping the window’s sill, he leaned forward to stare down at the road below.

Was he, too, affected by the closeness of the air? Did his skin also tingle over the prospect of sharing the bed? That he wanted her wasn’t in question. She’d seen his desire and responded to it too many times to have doubts.

“A quiet night,” he commented from the window. “We should not be disturbed unduly.”

“That is good.”

“You take the bed. I can sleep on the floor.”

Not if I have my way.

Emboldened, she crossed the small room to stand beside him and peer down onto the street. Few souls braved the dark road. Those who did walked quickly, seeking shelter and safety.

“You are not going out tonight then?”

“I probably should. We are not far from the docks. But today’s journey was long and tiring.”

She chose not to remind him that his weariness was his own fault for walking instead of riding with her.

“Perhaps you should take the bed. You need sleep more than I.” She pressed a hand to his forearm, feeling the muscles beneath his sleeve tighten. “Or we could share the bed.”

He peered down at her. “If we share the bed, we will not sleep.”

“Perhaps not.”

“Then we do not share a bed.”

“Because of the annulment?”

“Just so.”

Did he try to protect her, or himself?

“An unconsummated marriage is not the only permitted reason for an annulment—or a divorce.” She couldn’t help but smile at one of the reasons that came to mind. “I could always claim you are unable to satisfactorily perform your husbandly duties.”

Unamused, he raised an eyebrow. “That would be a lie.”

“As big as my lie when declaring to the king we had become lovers? Most will scoff at any claim that I am still a virgin. The bishop might well burn such a petition without giving it any consideration whatever.”

She ran her hand up his sleeve toward his shoulder, wishing she were touching skin and not wool. “Certes, we shall end the marriage, but that does not mean we cannot enjoy each other while it lasts.”

“I refuse to bed you just to prove myself capable of fornication.”

She almost winced at the ugly word, but knew he used it apurpose to shock her. He hadn’t moved, not so much as the twitch of a muscle. His hands yet gripped the sill, his knuckles white.

Perhaps she’d gone too far. Or not far enough.

“Then shall I assume you no longer desire me?” “You know that is not true.” Faster than she’d thought possible, he grabbed hold of her and pulled their bodies firmly together. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

The part of him that made him male had hardened and the proof of his desire, pressed so near to her yearning woman’s places, thrilled and emboldened her further.

“My father once owned a stallion that went randy at the scent of a mare. But put to the test, he could not carry through. Can you?”

Dear God, what had made her think of that? And to say such a thing! But she couldn’t be wholly sorry, for Darian’s eyes darkened wonderfully.

“Why are you intent on seducing me?”

“Is that what I am doing? Am I succeeding?”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I assumed you were a virgin, but did not know you that much of an innocent. Aye, you are seducing me. Beware, Emma. A man can resist only so long. You may succeed and later regret your victory.”

“I regret no victories, only failures.”

“Why me? Why a man so unsuited to you?”

Time for truth, but only in part.

“Because you are the one man in this kingdom who I have ever wanted to be the stallion to my mare. You are the one man I have yearned to look upon naked and then spread my legs for. I know not why you, but fate has thrown us together and I fear ’twould be worse than a sin to deny fate.”

As an answer, his mouth took hers in a punishing kiss. Surely her lips would be bruised, but she didn’t care. And oddly enough, the deeper the kiss, the gentler it felt, and oh, so right.

Eagerly she kissed him back, hoping he knew she liked how his mouth moved over hers, that she wanted more.

Enfolded in a warm, knee-melting embrace, Emma thrilled to Darian’s barely leashed passion, to the wildness in his harsh breathing and rapid heartbeat.

His need swept through her, fanning the flame low in her belly. The yearning ache she’d become familiar with whenever he was near now fairly screamed for easing. Relief only Darian could give her.

Somewhere in the far reaches of what remained of her senses not centered on Darian, she heard the window shutters close. Then his long-fingered, strong hands pushed her back to put a mere inch between them, breaking their string of kisses and leaving her bereft.

“Emma, we should not.... Oh, hell.”

Not the most romantic of surrenders, but again she did not care. She would have Darian tonight, and naught else mattered.

She ran fingertips along his troubled brow, down over his pursed lips. “Our coming together cannot be wrong. An indulgence, certes, but not wrong. We want each other, Darian. Say you will not deny me.”

“You told the king we shared a pallet, so now you wish to fornicate in truth.”

Again his crudity startled her, but aye, to have him inside her was exactly what she wanted.

“Did you not tell me you would be pleased to oblige had I made my want known?”

He let go of her. “Disrobe and get into bed.” Unsettled by his curtness, she watched him tug off his tunic, then his shirt, baring his chest. He appeared as he had in her vision. A wide, hairless chest with a long, thin scar beneath his left ribs. Except he wasn’t smiling.

“Well?” he asked. “Do you reconsider?”

Emma shook her head and, with unsteady hands, reached for the ties on the back of her bliaut. She allowed the garment to slide off into a puddle at her feet, her trepidation rising. Darian wanted her, but he disliked the idea of bedding her.

Perhaps she’d truly pushed him too hard. She’d been appallingly bold, nigh on demanding. She’d just begun to regret her behavior when her chemise hit the floor and bared near all of her to his gaze. He stared hard, his expression softening into appreciation.

She’d never thought of her body as enticing, certainly not comely enough to enthral a man. Her breasts were a bit heavy, the tips too dark. Her hips were too wide and her thighs and rump overly thick. Apparently Darian didn’t see any of her flaws. His inspection went on forever, and she saw not one whit of disapproval.

Feeling both nervous and powerful, she stepped away from her garments. Clad in hose and boots, she slowly crossed to the bed, perched on the edge of the mattress, and proceeded to remove her boots.

“Leave on your hose,” he ordered, his voice rough. “As you wish.”

The heady sense of confidence overcame the nervousness. She scooted back a bit, placed her hands on the bed, leaned back, and ever so slightly spread her legs.

The effect was all she could hope for. His nostrils flared, this time captivated by the reddish brown hair between her legs.

“Your turn,” she said softly.

In a flash he disposed of boots, breeches, and hose, allowing her to look upon what she hadn’t seen in her vision. The man was nothing short of magnificent. Tautly muscled, perfectly formed, and... big.

She almost closed her legs. They parted wider on their own, her body sure of what it wanted despite her sudden doubt over the harmonious mesh of male to female.

He moved toward her. “You know what I am about to do.”

She swallowed hard, her confidence slipping. “I do.” Darian loomed above her. “Lie down.”

Emma obeyed, striving to lie still. Then he placed his hand at her woman’s entrance—the intimate touch so unexpected and arousing, she rose off the mattress with a sharp cry.

“Sweet mercy,” he whispered harshly, then sighed and climbed onto the mattress to lie beside her. “Come here, sweetling.”

Emma quickly snuggled against him, noting the change in tone between “mercy” and “sweetling,” an endearment she hadn’t expected and rather liked. “Is aught amiss?”

“Not with you. Truth to tell, you are so damn perfect the likes of me should not be allowed within your presence.”

Because he was a mercenary and she a noble? Lord knew she was far from perfect! Perhaps the difference in their rank bothered him more than it should, but she sensed a deeper reason for the diffident if misguided statement. But he gave her no time to deduce his meaning. He might be reluctant to bed her; but, sweet heaven above, he wasn’t allowing misgivings to stop him.