A Wanton's Thief (3 page)

Her unblinking stare moved to him. She watched, helpless as he stalked to a coffer and flipped open the lid. Hurriedly, he yanked his gunnysack from his shoulder, pulled it open and set it on the floor before the chest. Immediately, several familiar items caught her eye when he rummaged through the sack seeming to make room for more bounty. She saw her brother’s large medallion amulet, her father’s solid gold bookends, their ornate silverware passed down through many generations of Tremaynes and, collectively, worth a pretty pound.

Her face warmed when he tossed and dug through the contents of her personal storage—oh, how she hated this man! He drew out a pair of her riding boots, two of her older gowns she normally wore for gardening and several grooming and toiletry articles. Mortified, she watched as he held up various undergarments, burying his face in the fluff of them before stuffing them into his bag.

What was this man doing? Heavens help her, she was under the complete spell of a madman! She longed to scream, to demand answers to her questions. To flee!

But she had no strength in her legs, no voice, no answers and he offered no explanations. Many more questions jumbled in her brain as he continued his free rein of her suite.

He didn’t stop with her personal hidden items. Next, he crossed to the wall and plucked her thickest cape from a hook. Taking long strides, he breezed by the chest and snatched up his sack, then came to stand before her. Kneeling, he shoved her feet into the boots and fastened them. “Stand up.”

Again, her body obeyed while her mind shouted in silent protest. He rose and swirled the fur-lined cloak around until it covered her shoulders. Fastening the wrap, those long, adept fingers moved up her collarbone to her neck. Even as gentle heat embraced her and slid down reluctantly into her womb, she could have sworn he was about to choke her. But instead, he raised the hood of the wrap and covered her head. His scent, now warmed by the fire at his back, incensed her, abducting her olfactory nerves in such a way that she longed to pinch her nose against the pleasing aroma of him.

And she wondered with a mixture of amazement and ire how it could be that this man could instill fear in her one moment, and yet shocking desire the next.

It was this dark magic of his. There could be no other explanation. If he didn’t possess these tricks of wizardry, he would not be able to possess her in
any
manner whatsoever!

Footsteps fell upon the wooden plank of the outer threshold. Her eyes widened and hope flourished in her chest.
Yes! I’m inside. I’m here. Please, Sheldon, Edwina,
someone
help me!

He narrowed his eyes as they riveted toward the door. Once again, beams of energy shot from them. The footfalls stopped in the corridor outside her chamber. She heard voices, then an abrupt silencing. And the sounds of help, of her one salvation, retreated into the quiet of the hall.

“Just a bit of gentle persuasion,” he said with the flash of a wolfish grin. “Now, we must go.”

He quietly settled the fully stuffed gunnysack over his shoulder. His eyes held her spellbound, and he spoke with a deep, almost intimate command. “Turn and cross to the door. Open it. Check for servants, family, anyone. If and only if there is no one about, you will exit into the corridor, turn right, and descend the rear servant’s staircase. I will follow immediately behind you. Once we reach the lower level, you will lead me outdoors through the safest rooms and portals. You will only go where there are no other people about. When we reach the outdoors, you will allow me to escort you to my steed. And then together, we will mount and be on our way.”

Her teeth ground together in anger. Salena attempted once again to scream, to run, to disobey this obvious sorcerer who held silent powers over her body that she could not control. But it was no use. Though she glared back with eye-power of her own, the magic proved too strong to fight, despite the inner rebelliousness that spewed from her soul.

With tears of frustration brimming in her eyes, Lady Salena Tremayne, betrothed of Duke Edward Devonshire, turned and walked briskly toward the door. Out into the cold of an autumn night, the future Duchess of Oxford stole away with the thief who held all she desired, and all she hated and feared.

Chapter Two

Bareback upon his Friesian warhorse, Falcon held Salena before him, her soft, womanly curves shivering against his jerkin and codpiece. The braies beneath his cloak stretched painfully taut over the erection he’d sported since spying her slumbering form upon that queen’s bed of hers. Inhaling, he caught the scent of roses and something altogether feminine, distinct to only this woman. It played havoc on his senses, nearly rendering him unable to perform his required spells of protection. His cock throbbed with the need to claim the pussy that he knew, despite her outward indignation and anger, had filled with honey at his nearness.

But first he had to get her to the safety of his village a day’s ride from here.

They reached the gatehouse and Falcon looked up at the lone gatekeeper. He sent his
tazir
gaze into the man’s eyes, enthralling him.

“Guard, you will release the drawbridge over the moat, and once we have passed, you will return it to its former state and never recall this exchange.”

“Yes, sir,” the man called down, his voice in a monotone of obedience.

The clank and grind of iron chains sounded as the sentry lowered the drawbridge. Behind him, Falcon could hear the shouts of panic, the low squall of an alarm as Lady Salena’s absence was made known to the loyal members of her keep.

“Hurry, man!”

“It is nearly done,” the guard informed him. And indeed it was. Even as the wooden planks crashed to the far stone edge of the moat, Falcon urged his mount to leap upon the bridge and spurred it across the long stretch. The clatter of hooves thundered out, echoing in the moonless dark of night. He heard the creak and clang of metal as the watchman raised the bridge behind him.

Knowing he hadn’t the full powers to enthrall and escape an entire army of knights, Falcon urged his steed on, putting as much distance between them and the castle as humanly possible.

As they traveled on and the silver moon began to peep through the waning clouds and crooked trees overhead, Falcon started to relax. Behind him, the wilderness stretched, as did mile after mile of barren land. His trail had been lost. The pursuing soldiers of Lady Salena’s home, Wyngate Hall, had long since taken another path in error. She now slumped against him in exhaustion. The power he’d cast on her still remained, so he roused her with a gentle nudge.

“Awaken.”

She stirred and her eyes rose to his in that slow manner of one
tazired
by his allures. His breath caught when the hue of them shone up at him, twinkling by the moonlight. They were a warm, almost spooky peacock-blue edged with sleepy bliss. Thick midnight lashes framed the unusual catlike shape of them, fanning her high cheekbones as she blinked. Slowly, awareness dawned in them, and he knew the exact moment that anger stirred within her breast once again. The full cherry lips pursed and he fought a craving to suck them right into his mouth. The pale skin flushed to the pink of a rose. He clenched one hand against the reins, fighting the urge to explore every silky inch of her flesh.

Falcon reminded himself that involvement with a mortal always amounted to nothing but emotional suicide. But his blood rekindled, despite the firsthand experience of the repeated heartaches he’d endured, watching helpless, as each of his mortal lovers throughout the past decades and centuries had died off.

Shaking the morbid thoughts, he allowed the fire to settle to a boil within his balls, and the sac throbbed with a demanding vengeance. Falcon tightened his hold on her, grinding her hip into his penis as he held her gaze, entranced by her witch’s charm. Suddenly, he understood how one must feel to be under his own
tazing
spells. And her eyes, coupled with that intoxicating ire, were far more potent than his own.

“You are released from submission—for the moment.” He looked away, breaking the tie that held her bound to his dominance.

He needed no powers to tell the exact second she realized she was free. But Falcon was prepared. With one hand, he kept a sure grip on the reins. He clamped his thighs around the stallion to keep them both safely mounted. His arms closed around her upper body, pinning her elbows to her sides.

And she thrashed and screeched, bucking against his tight hold.

“You monster!” She tried to hunch her head down to bite his forearm, but he shook her hard enough to prevent the defensive move. “Oh! You’ll pay for this. The king and my brother will hunt you down. You will die, Falcon Montague. You will die a choking death at the gallows—and hopefully suffer some rotting in prison before you should be so lucky.”

“Madam, you do so break my heart with your penchant for vengeance.”

She twisted then, and shot him a loathing look. “
Vengeance?
That is but a smidgen of what I wish upon you. You have entered my home uninvited, apparently stolen from my family’s coffers—” she glowered at the bulge of loot upon his back, “—accosted me in my own private chambers and abducted me from the safety of the only home I have ever known.”

He grinned down at her. “You’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve set out to deflower you for your betrothal to the very stodgy but still alive Duke of Oxford.”

“He is not stodgy!” she shrieked.

Falcon guided the horse up a sharp incline and turned deeper into the woods. “I beg to differ.” And to prove his point, he dragged her hip back and forth over his erection. “Do you feel that?”

Delight stirred within him when she let out an involuntary whimper of mortification—or was it desire? “How could I not? It stands erect like a bloody lance between us!”

He threw his head back and roared. “Aye, good point. But do you see
my
point?”

When she remained mute, her jaw clamped, and presented him with her regal profile, he went on. “The duke is beginning to gray, his skin is showing signs of shriveling and it is said that his…lance…is no longer in working order.”

“You lie!”

“I tell naught but truths, young, beautiful maiden. And to add further fact to my ‘tales’, he’s also—reportedly, of course—in dire need of a very rich dowry to pull his estate out of the deep bowels of his gambling sickness. And it is my understanding that you, milady, possess a sizable dowry.”

She swiped her hood from her head, and he watched as the moonlight speared down upon the long sable locks. Faint auburn highlights glimmered upon the lunar-bathed tendrils. Clouds dissipated in the night sky above, making way for the pinpoint twinkles of stars. Unable to resist, he reached up and combed his hand through the silky curtain until he gripped her nape.

“You are a vile serpent.” She slapped at his arm, barely jarring it. “And you get your filthy hands off me this instant!”

“Ah,” he rasped, drawing her closer. “But serpents do not have hot, talented hands. They are, however, snakes,” he amended, jerking back on the reins until his mount halted, “like that which you’ve awakened within my britches.”

At his words, she went into a flurry of twists and bucks, obviously understanding his esoteric meaning. She growled reminding him of a wild cat fighting to be released from his hold.

“Stop. Stop now or we both will be unseated.”

She let out an unladylike snort. “Oh, how I pray to God that you end up on the earth with a smarting backside—and a broken neck besides!”

Well, there was no other way about it. Falcon did not wish either of them to break their necks. He gripped her face and turned her so that she was forced to look into his eyes.

“You will stop this foolishness immediately!”

His powers hit her as a stone might fly from a catapult and strike a castle wall. She instantly jolted and stilled her movements, slumping against him.

“And now that you’ve stirred my manhood, something must be done to…relieve me. But not until you’re ready of your own free will.”

He tipped her chin up and watched, once again enchanted when defiance sparked in her eyes. “You may talk to me only, but you may not scream or alert anyone else we may encounter. You may only move your body if you’re in need of a change of position for the sake of comfort…or if you genuinely wish to seek out my…charms.”

“I…I…your
manhood
will not be relieved by me.”

“That is your choice.”

“I have no choices in this matter!”

Unable to resist, he massaged her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Her eyes went limpid with what could only be desire. “No, you don’t have a choice in whether you remain at Wyngate Hall or not. But…”

“But?”

“But you do have a choice as to whether or not I kiss you. And, oh, I do wish to do just that.” Her eyes widened and sparkled in the moonlight. They made him think of the many precious gems he’d stolen over the centuries. Only the worth in the cut of them, the passionate gleam she could not hide from him, made them far more valuable than any loot he’d seized before. He watched as her chest rose and fell, listened to her uneven, wispy breathing. Clearly, she warred with her own scruples, but he would not force the issue even if she chose to deny what was apparent in every aspect of her being.

“A kiss?”

He nodded, his heart captured by her astonished and curious tone. “A kiss. Just grant me one chance to sample your flavor. One chance and I promise, if you do not like it, I will never plea for your charms again.”

She lifted her chin. “That is quite a noble vow for such a criminal man.”

“Criminal or not, it is by my honor I swear it.”

“And you promise you will never force me against my will by use of your bizarre, paralyzing and mind-controlling black magic?”

“I promise to never force my amorous needs upon you, Lady Salena. You must be willing, for I prefer my women eager for my advances. I will only use those powers on you when necessary to preserve your safety, but not in the case of courting…and all that goes with it.”

She let out a melodious, cynical tinkle of laughter. “Courting? Is that what you’re doing, courting me after an abduction?”

Her cheek felt satiny against his palm, a maddening stimuli when one had a painful erection to rival a mountain. “It hadn’t been part of my original plan just as the abduction hadn’t, but yes, I desire to woo you into my bed.”

She gasped.

“You’re rather indignant,” he chuckled, “when I happen to know that wet spot between your legs throbs, your heart pounds in anticipation of the coming kiss and your lips tingle with the need to be devoured by mine.”

Salena swallowed audibly. “You…how do you know this?”

He trailed a finger down her neck watching with undisguised lust as her eyelids quivered. She let out a strangled groan when he said, “Because I can smell your arousal and because my extensive experience has taught me the look and body language and sounds of a woman who wishes to be taken by a man.”

“Taken?”

Falcon sighed sensing her surrender. “We can start with a kiss. Can’t we?”

A long moment went by in which she stared into his eyes. The lunar glow waned and ebbed as clouds glided across the night sky. He drew her sweet scent into his lungs unsure as to how much longer he could take this torture of being so very near to her without being allowed to sample her. Finally, she nodded and whispered, “Aye, we can start with a kiss.”

And she tipped her head back and parted her lips in fascinated welcome.

* * * * *

With the moon behind him, it seemed he descended upon her like a hungry raven in the night. He still wore that ominous, mysterious black mask, and she thought of a devil seducing her into his lair of dark magic. Hot hands held her face captive while his body seemed to scorch her through the fabric of her cloak and gown. She no longer felt the chill of the midnight hour; in its place simmered something altogether elemental. His magnetic eyes snared her through the mask’s slits, intent as a wolf about to tear into his prey. Though his powers once again held her obedient, it was only against any attempts at escape. He did not force upon her his ardent allure but rather dangled it in front of her for the taking. She shivered with anticipation, despite the fury that ate away at her soul at her own self-betrayal.

She caught a whiff of his rugged scent mixed with cool wind just before his lips slammed into hers. Something about it made her hungry, made her yearn for a long drought of him, if only to satisfy her curiosity. The feel of his lips on hers made her suddenly unsure of herself and what propriety and her morals would dictate. This kiss…it was nothing like Thane’s kisses had been. Wet and warm, Falcon tasted of a sweet ambrosia that instilled further thirst within her breast. The need caused her to tip her head back, to finally accept his probing tongue into her mouth. With a groan that sounded as if it came from somewhere afar, she hesitantly touched her tongue to his. It seemed the contact sent a jolt of energy from his soul into hers. Liquid heat melted over her heart and pooled into her cunt. As if to reinforce the sensation, to inform her he experienced the same wonder as she, he sighed into her mouth.

His hand slid into her cloak and cupped one breast. It was the first time any man had ever touched her there. Thane’s hurried lovemaking had apparently skipped this wondrous step. The incredulity of it shocked her into an erotic fog she could not awaken from. Through the silk of her nightshift, he strummed her nipple. It hardened, and with it, so did the little knot between her labia. She tightened her thigh muscles, attempting to hold in the gush of warm liquid that trickled out of her pussy. But it was no use. A flashflood washed over her, and suddenly, she craved his hand down there at the spot that seemed to need soothing.