White Star (27 page)

She reached out, and wrote again, with broad strokes.
Orrin, don’t be an idiot.

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Evelyn
watched as Orrin choked on a laugh. “Oh, I’m an idiot now, eh? Such romantic talk, Priestess. Sweeps me right off my feet, it does.”

Evelyn rose, letting the comforter fall to the floor. Orrin’s face went stern. He took a step back toward the window. “I’ve said what I came to say. I’m glad to find you well, and more than grateful for your aid, Lady High Priestess.”

Evelyn took another step toward him.

Orrin stiffened, and bent to snatch up his sword and dagger. “My men and I have decided to leave Palins once the pardons are official. Memories linger, and there are some with sharp blades who won’t let a piece of parchment stop them.” He tied his scabbard back on his belt. “Sidian has some ideas of where we can go to make our way in the world. He hasn’t said where, but—”

Evelyn put her hand on his arm, and looked up at him with a gentle tilt of her head. He froze, staring at her.

She moved her fingers down the sleeve of his tunic, and slipped her hand into his. With a tug, she turned to lead him to the bed.

“No.” Orrin resisted her pull. “No, Evelyn. Listen to me. I’ll admit breaking the rules to come here tonight, but that’s on my head. I’ll not be the cause of your expulsion from the—”

Evelyn tugged again.

“You love being a priestess,” Orrin said softly.

She stopped, and looked away.

“I saw you,” Orrin continued. “Back in Wareington, healing that babe. Don’t try to tell me different. You love serving the powers above us, love aiding the people in any way you can.”

Evelyn’s fingers tightened on his, and she nodded without looking up.

“You’ve accomplished so much for Palins.” Orrin drew her toward him, and wrapped his arms around her. “I won’t be the cause of your expulsion from the Order.” Orrin buried his face in her white hair. “I’d petition the Archbishop for your hand in marriage, but we both know that fat turd won’t—”

Evelyn’s head came up, her face open in surprise, her cheeks flushed. She mouthed the word “marriage.”

Orrin nodded. “Yes, I would marry you if I could. But—”

Evelyn threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

Orrin groaned into her mouth, his arms encircled her, and he returned the kiss with a hunger that betrayed his true feelings.

Evelyn threw her head back, and Orrin’s mouth trailed wet kisses down her throat. She put her hand out, and gestured. When he lifted his head, words were floating before him, gold and glowing.
Please, beloved. One night. Please.

* * * * *

Orrin
looked into Evelyn’s pleading eyes, and knew he was doomed.

Another man, a good man, would walk away. Stride to the window and jump, for that matter. But he couldn’t do it, not for the life of him.

“I’d have you in a bower, My Lady, where the walls are covered in thick tapestries, with a warm fire and a featherbed covered in rose petals.”

She went up on her toes, and kissed the corners of his eyes. The golden words swirled about them, repeating over and over.
Please, beloved. One night. Please.

Orrin knew he couldn’t leave if he wanted to, and in a bittersweet way he wanted this as much as she did. One night in her arms. Sin or blessing, it was theirs to claim. This one night.

He unclasped his cloak, and let it fall to the floor behind him.

Evelyn laughed, that pure, wonderful laugh of joy. The golden words popped in a glitter of dust, drifting down around them.

Orrin reached out to cover her mouth with his fingers. “Hush, now, or you’ll have the entire place at our door.” He hesitated. “Is this what you truly want, Evelyn? There is so little time before dawn, and I—”

Her blue eyes sparkled. She opened her lips, and nipped at his fingers with her teeth.

He hardened swiftly, his entire body reacting to that touch. Evelyn drew closer, lifting her mouth to his, kissing him sweetly. She took his hand, and guided it to her breast. He ran his thumb over her nipple, a tiny peak under the cotton. She filled his hand perfectly.

His Evelyn, his beloved. For this one night . . . he’d see to her pleasure above all things.

She leaned into him, and he took her weight with ease, letting his mouth explore the soft skin behind her ear. Evelyn shivered, but he knew full well it wasn’t the cold. It was the heat that lay between them.

Evelyn stepped back, and reached for his belt, but Orrin caught her hands. He moved back for a moment, breathing hard, looking at her flushed face and half-opened eyes in the firelight.

He knelt before her slowly, never losing eye contact. He reached out, and let his hands trail up the sides of her legs and over her hips, sliding the fabric of her shift to gather at her waist, exposing her.

Evelyn shivered again, reaching out to touch his hair. She shifted her stance, opening herself to him.

Orrin leaned in, and worshipped her with his mouth.

Evelyn cried out at the first gentle stroke of his tongue. Her hips jerked as she pressed his head close with her hands. Orrin obliged, increasing the pressure, pulling her close, offering her nothing but pleasure.

Her sighs were soft, and Orrin curled his tongue to thrust deeper into her heat. Within a moment Evelyn shuddered, her knees giving way. Orrin reached up, cradled her, and eased her down onto the pile of bedding before the fire.

She lay there, disheveled and dazed, her shift still pushed up around her hips.

Orrin stood, and looked down at her, pleased with his work. She stirred, and smiled at him, then pulled her shift over her head and off.

She was glorious, her breasts pale and perfect in the light. No scars marred them, to his relief. Every hair on her body was white, and it all caught the light and reflected it. It paralyzed him for a moment, the idea that one such as she would allow him even to touch her with his rough, stained hands, much less . . .

She lifted a hand to him, with a pleading look.

Orrin swallowed hard. “I’ve dreamed of you like this. Warm, and wanting me.” He started to remove his belt, lowering it to the floor, careful to leave the sword within reach. “But in those dreams, you were stretched out on the Great Bed of Wareington.” He stripped off his tunic, and threw it to the side. His boots were next, and he placed them side by side near his sword. “Cushioned in velvet and silk,” he whispered.

Evelyn stretched, lifting her arms over her head, pushing her breasts out, their nipples tight pink buds. He took a deep breath, enjoying the sight. “It was all I could do not to enter your chamber that night.” Orrin stripped off his trous, and added them to the pile.

Evelyn’s eyes traveled over him, and she smiled, clearly pleased. He took another deep breath, trying to maintain a bit of control. He reached down, and offered his hand. “Come to bed, lovely lady.”

She let him help her up, and together they took up the comforter. The bed was not large, but they climbed in, skin on skin. Evelyn came into his arms with a sigh, her hair spread over his arm like a sheet of silk. He threw back the comforter so that it pooled at the bottom of the bed. Their shared fire was warmth enough.

He nuzzled her ear, and she arched her neck, giving him access to that warm, sensitive skin. His hands started to move, exploring her softness and every curve. Following the line of her neck, he kissed her breasts, taking her nipples gently between his teeth, and tugging. Evelyn’s soft moans guided him, and he listened to her body as he loved her.

Her hands weren’t still, either. She reached to wrap her fingers around his length, her soft touch nearly sending him over the edge. But each time, she retreated, letting the passion build between them.

Orrin broke off his kisses for a moment, looking into her eyes. “Evie, you’re not . . . you told me before you aren’t a virgin.”

She nodded, her hands on his chest. With a wicked look, she scratched lightly around his nipples.

“I want you to know—”

She arched an eyebrow.

“No, I’m not a virgin,” he said. “But I want you to know . . . I need you to know . . .” He reached out, and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ve done this before. But never with someone I loved.”

Her eyes lit up, and she kissed him, bringing their bodies close together, skin against skin. For a brief moment, he was amazed at the difference it made. So much more than just physical caresses. He felt her love shine through their every move. Then he was lost, wrapped in her arms, no real thought other than their pleasure.

Finally, he was poised above her, trembling and ready, cradled between her hips. He nipped at her lips, and she sought his with her own. As they kissed, he entered her moist folds.

Evelyn gasped into his mouth, and he froze, trembling at the effort. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her eyes bright with tears, and then thrust her hips up. He gasped at the feel. Still he hesitated, uncertain.

Evelyn kissed him, and used her hands to urge him on.

He did, slowly, carefully, until he was fully seated within. They both stopped then, their breathing ragged as their bodies fully joined.

“I never knew,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

Evelyn laughed in delight, and flexed her muscles tight around him. He smiled then, loving her joy, and started a gentle rhythm that she matched. They danced then, on the edge of light, a gentle giving and taking, until they both fell, together, over the edge of forever.

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He
woke to find her head on his shoulder, her hands running over his chest. He closed his eyes, enjoying her touch, content until he felt something wet on his skin.

Evelyn was crying.

He shifted then, careful to keep the bedding over them, and looked into her face. Her eyes were filled with pain and tears, her hands still moving, as if to try to memorize the feel of his skin.

She was trying to do just that.

His throat clenched tight, he leaned close to kiss her, the salt of her tears in his mouth. “I’m always hurting you, Evie.”

She shook her head, denying his words, but he knew the truth. “I can take the consequences of my actions,” he said, reaching out to cup her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek. “But I can’t bear your sorrow. I’m so sorry, love. Perhaps it’s best that I—”

Evelyn’s fingers stilled his mouth, her face filled with pain and anger. She kissed him, an act of comfort. He responded gently, not surprised when the heat began to build between them again.

Evelyn moved, rising above him, letting the blanket fall off them.

His body responded swiftly, rising to meet her as she impaled herself on him. She leaned down, the tips of her hair brushing his face.

He reached then, holding her hips, meeting her sharp movements as she rode him, denying his words, expressing her love. Evelyn was watching his face, waiting, and he willingly surrendered control to her. Just as he climaxed, she bore down on him and bit his shoulder, her teeth piercing the skin, claiming him as he pulsed with pleasure.

His eyes half-open, he felt her shudder with her own release before melting back into his arms. He arranged them on the bed, cuddled together, her warm breath on his neck. As he reached for the comforter to cover them, he saw her expression, a mixture of satisfaction and shame. She reached out, her fingers tracing the bite mark.

He brushed her temple with his lips. “You didn’t hurt me. Close your eyes, Evelyn. I just want to lie here and hold you while I can.”

She nodded, and drifted off to sleep, her hand on his chest. Orrin lay awake for a long time, listening to her breathe.

A
knock at the door brought Evelyn bolt upright in bed. Orrin dived from under the blankets, and grabbed for his sword.

“Lady High Priestess, it’s Esie.” An older woman spoke at the door. “The Archbishop wants to see you after the morning Council session. I’ll be back in a bit with your breakfast and hot water for bathing.”

Orrin tossed her shift to her, and grabbed for his trous. Evelyn scrambled from the bed, pulling the comforter up to cover the evidence of their loving.

Orrin was on the floor, pulling on his boots. “An entire church filled with early risers,” he grumbled as he yanked them on. “There’s a real drawback to worshipping a sun god.”

Ignoring him, Evelyn went to the window and opened the shutters carefully. There was no one in the yard.

Orrin stood, pulling on his tunic and gathering up his belt. “Evie, beloved, I—”

She pulled off her ring and silently offered it to him.

He shook his head, and wrapped her in his arms. “No, love. Too many people would ask how I got it, or ask you where you lost it.”

He paused, listening, then grabbed her hand. “Listen to me. When we kidnapped you that first time, remember? Evelyn, Elanore told us where you’d be and when. She told me the information came from the Archbishop.”

Her eyes went wide, but then they narrowed. It made sense. How else—

Orrin glanced at the door. “Please, Evelyn, don’t trust him.”

She kissed him desperately then, wanting forever but having only these last few precious minutes. She pulled him to the window, still kissing him, as the sounds increased outside her door.

Orrin broke the kiss, breathing hard. “Evie, there is a way. A way we could be together.”

She gave him a questioning look.

He looked at her, then looked away. “I could use my boon to ask for your hand.”

Hope flared in her heart for a moment, but then reality crashed in. She grabbed his arm, shaking her head.

“I know,” he said, looking at her with both defiance and shame. “I promised my men, all my men, that I’d seek their pardons.” He took her hand and kissed it. “Honor demands that I fulfill that promise, but honor be damned. I—”

A rattle of the door handle, and Orrin was out the window, with barely a rustle of leaves to mark his passing. Evelyn quietly closed the shutters, and latched them tight. With a heavy heart she smoothed her hair back, and checked the room before turning calmly toward the door.