Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - Wyndmaster 1 (18 page)

"Am I that ugly, Jilly?" he asked.

His sister shook her head. "You are not ugly at all, Sierran," she grudgingly admitted. "You look more

like our father than I had expected."

"That was an insult you really didn't need to hand me," he mumbled. He flexed his bare foot in irritation.

"Aren't your feet cold?" she asked, experiencing the strangest sensation in the pit of her stomach as she

watched his dangling leg and the soft-looking skin of his foot.

"No," he replied.

Jillian looked away. "Would you be a gentleman and escort me to my room?"

Sierran just sat there and looked at her for a long moment then heaved himself out of the chair. "Sure,

let's go." He led her out into the corridor then indicated the winding stairs. "After you."

Acutely aware of her brother behind her, Jillian gracefully lifted the skirt of her gown and began the climb

up the stairs. She missed nothing as she inspected the paintings on the staircase wall and the fine carpet

underfoot. When they reached the landing and he moved around her to lead her to her room, she could

not look away from his broad shoulders and long legs, mentally having to shake herself to keep from

entertaining the forbidden thoughts that were going through her head.

Sierran stopped at a door and opened it, sweeping his hand across the threshold. He stepped aside so

she could enter the room.

"Oh, my," Jillian said, taking in the beauty of the room. "This is lovely, Sierran."

He leaned against the doorjamb. "If you need anything, just ring. A maid will come up to attend you."

She had gone to the window and pushed aside the draperies. "The view is spectacular."

"Glad you like it," he said and turned to go but he stopped and looked back at her. "Jillian?"

His sister swiveled her head around. "Yes?"

"There is something I want you to remember while you are here," he said with no expression at all on his

handsome face. "This is my home. Celeste is the mistress of my home. She is my legal wife?"

"Your second wife," Jillian interrupted.

"The wife of my heart," he stated. "She is the love of my life and I will defend her in every way I can. If

you insult her or cause her the first moment of embarrassment or unease, I will personally escort you to

the docks and you will never again be welcome in our home." His eyes narrowed. "Is that clear?"

Jillian lifted her chin. "Am I welcome now, Sierran?" she asked.

A slow, deadly smile crept over his mouth. "You are being tolerated, Jillian," he said then turned away.

* * *

He found Celeste in the solarium as he knew he would. Over the last week, they had spent many a

soothing hour in the lush room with its vibrant plants or whiling away moments in the warm water of the

hot tub—of which she was particularly fond. By now she knew the name of every exotic plant he had

brought to this room and had studied volumes on that plant's properties. She knew which ones were of

medicinal value and had spent quite a bit of time brewing poultices and salves for him and other members

of his household. The solarium had become her favorite place at
Vista del Mar
.

"She isn't a likeable person, is she, dearling?" Celeste asked as he strolled into the room, his hands in his

pockets—a sure sign he was annoyed.

"None of my family are likable, milady," he grumbled.

“It bothers me that Jillian seems to dislike you,” she said.

He shrugged. “They all dislike me, Celeste, but of them all, Jillian was less hateful to me when we were

children. I suppose that’s why I can tolerate her better than I can the others.” A wry smile peeled back

his lips. “And most likely why they sent her rather than another.”

He came over to her where she was carefully clipping a bonsai tree. "That looks much better."

"Did you know Lucas Gilbert makes miniature furniture for his daughter's doll houses?" she asked.

Sierran shrugged. "I know he whittles a lot. Why?"

"I've asked him to make me a little village to place around this plant." She looked up at him. "I thought it

would be quaint."

He smiled. "It would be," he agreed and took his hands out of his pockets to slip his arms around her. "I

know something else that would be quaint." He rubbed himself from side to side against her.

"Is that all you think of?" she asked with mock exasperation.

"My back is as healed as it will ever be and my chest doesn't pain me that much anymore," he said,

lowering his head so he could nibble at the side of her neck. "I've yet to claim you as I want to since you

kept insisting on climbing atop me and riding me like a prized steed."

She pursed her lips. "But it feels so good to ride you like that, Sierran."

"Mayhap yet I know other things that will feel even better," he whispered against her cheek.

Her hands were trapped between them, her palms flat to the hard muscles of his chest. "Better than your

dangly thrusting into my sheath?" she giggled.

Sierran stepped back and before she could protest, lifted her into his arms, swinging her up high against

his chest.

"Should you be doing this?" she asked, concerned for his wounds. True, they were healing—thanks to

the salves she'd been slathering all over him—but she wasn't fully convinced he was healed enough to be

exerting himself.

"Hush, wench," he said. He carried her to the small daybed he had purchased for the room. They had

spent many a glorious moment there watching the sun set over the waters of Zykanthos Bay. Laying her

on the bed, he went to the solarium door and shut it, twisting the lock he had had Seth install for him.

Celeste propped herself up on her elbows and grinned at him. "Strip, slave," she said haughtily. "I wish

to view what I have purchased."

It was only one of the games they played when they were alone—taking turns being the love slave of the

other. When she was in her mischievous mode, she was at her most creative.

"I am a warrior," he said. He came over to the daybed and stood there with his legs spread, his hands on

his hips. "I am no slave!"

"Oh," she said, pressing a hand to her chest. "And I am but a poor, defenseless maiden you've torn from

the loving arms of her family and stolen away for your wicked sport."

"That you are," he said as he arched a dark brow. "Now lie down 'ere I tie you down."

Celeste flopped down on the bed with her arms and legs spread wide. "Do with me as you will, you evil

man. I have not the will to fight you."

Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt then shrugged out of it, never taking his hot gaze from her. He removed

his britches to stand there with his cock jutting forth like a well-honed blade.

"Evil man," she repeated. She flung an arm over her eyes and sighed loudly. "You will despoil me with

that wicked weapon."

"Aye, wench," he agreed and placed his knee upon the daybed's mattress. "That I will."

Sierran settled his naked body between her thighs, pushing the skirt of her gown up. "Damn, woman," he

grumbled. "How many petticoats do you have on?" He pushed up two before sliding the hem of her

chemise up to reveal her garter belt and stockings.

"I wasn't planning on being ravished today," she reminded him.

"You can plan on being ravished every day," he shot back and put his warm hand on her bare thigh

where the stocking met the garter belt.

His fingers trailed over her for a moment before he unhooked first one stocking then the other,

alternately lifting her legs to his shoulders so he could peel the silk from her shapely legs. He reached up

to tug the garter belt over her hips and Celeste accommodated him by arching her lower body up to help.

"You are supposed to be fighting me, wench," he complained. "Not aiding me."

"Oh," she said. "I forgot." She let her arm fall behind her head. "Oh, stop! Stop! You vile little man!"

Sierran looked up at her. "Little man?" he questioned and stretched out atop her, allowing her to feel the

hardness of his cock between her spread legs. "Does that feel little to you, madame?"

Celeste put her tongue out to slowly lick her upper lip as he hovered there above her. The weight of him

pressing down on her was heavenly and it was causing havoc with her lower body. She could feel the

moisture gathering in her vagina.

“I must admit it doesn’t feel all that small now that you mention it,” she replied.

His gaze went to that little pink tongue moistening her lip and growled deep in his throat. He shifted his

weight so he was leaning on his left elbow and he brought his right hand up to cup her breast through the

velvet fabric of her gown. He squeezed her gently then lowered his mouth to hers, thrusting his tongue

into her sweet mouth.

Encircling him within the perimeter of her arms, Celeste moved her legs so they anchored his down and

as his kiss deepened and his cock stirred between her thighs, she met his dueling tongue with her own.

He kneaded her breast firmly through the material then insinuated his palm inside her bodice so he could

touch her bare flesh. He plucked at her nipples—smiled around the gasp of pleasure that came from

her—and ground his lower body against her.

Celeste pulled her lips free of his. "If you don't take me right now, Sierran, I am going to…"

He wriggled between her thighs. "Then move your legs, wench, if you want me in you."

She quickly unhooked her legs from over his. The moment his shaft entered her, she quivered from head

to toe. It was glorious—the feel of him lying upon her, the heaviness of him, the attitude of powerful

possession that feeling elicited within her, and the hardness of him thrusting deep.

"Wrap your legs around my hips," he whispered and she didn't hesitate to do as he bid.

His cock went deeper into her velvet softness.

Sierran had waited so long to take her in that way. He had spent many a night dreaming of lying

between her sweet thighs and ramming into her with sure, strong strokes that would bring her untold

pleasure. At that moment, he was having a hard time controlling his cock for it wanted to release its juices

into that warm, tight channel. Her hands were buried in his hair, her teeth nibbling at his chin and he was

strung as tightly as a new bow.

"Come for me, little one," he said, his voice thick with passion. "Come for me."

Celeste felt that strange itching that always preceded the delight Sierran visited upon her. It was a

building, tingling sensation that made her arch her hips higher and grind her body along his. She craved

this man like an addict his dependence.

He felt the first ripple on the tip of his cock and pressed tighter, harder into her. He increased the speed

of his thrusts and when that second ripple came—like an undulating wave that clutched him from tip to

base—he stilled within her as those ripples became a crashing wave.

"Sierran!" she called out and slid her hands from his hair to his shoulders, grabbing at him, thrusting her

hips closer to his.

With his lady being pleasured, there was no need for him to hold off any longer and he gave into the

release. He dug his fingernails lightly into her buttocks and poured himself into her.

Burst after burst of intense pleasure washed over Celeste and she tightened her legs around him, hearing

him grunt, knowing he was experiencing as much gratification as she. When he collapsed atop her, his

cock flexing one last time before he lay still, she held him tightly, listening to his panting breath, feeling his

pounding heart, loving him with every inch of her soul.

"I love you," he whispered.

Celeste smiled. It was the first time he'd said those words, though he had shown her his love in a

thousand ways since they'd been together.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

He tried to move off her but she would not allow it.

"I like the feel of you on me," she said.

"I'm heavy," he protested.

"Yes, you are, but I love that heaviness, milord." Her arms were velvet bands anchoring him to her. She

felt his cock slide out of her and groaned. "There that problem goes dissolving again."

"Bad problem," he said. "Bad, bad problem."

They lay like that for quite some time until Sierran insisted on moving to her side. She complained but he

told her his chest was hurting. That wasn't true but it was the only thing he knew to say to make her

release him. He didn’t like crushing her beneath him because he felt he was too heavy. He shifted to his

side and gathered her into his arms.

"What do you suppose she wants?" Celeste asked after another ten minutes of silence between them.

“Who?”

“Your sister,” she reminded him.

"Oh, her.” He sighed. “To get me to go to Eagle Grove and consummate that damnable Joining," he

stated.

"Will you?" she asked softly.

He snorted. "What do you think?"

She wrapped a curl of his chest hair around her middle finger. "I think I would squash any woman you

dared to put your dangly in," she replied.

"I'm not leaving Zykanthos," he told her. "My father can find another way to take possession of Patterly."

"Is it an estate worth having?"

He shrugged. "I suppose so although I've heard Summerall neglected it for the most part. Brent says

there are rich, fertile lands there but they haven't been worked properly." He put up a hand to scratch at

his chin. "And there may be minerals and ores. I suspect there are if my father is so anxious to own it."

"Can't you just sign the land over to him?" she asked.