Connie Mason (36 page)

“What is it, sweeting?” Drake asked as they waited for the ceremony to begin. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“Nay!” Raven denied, aghast that Drake would even think such a thing. “Being your wife is all I have ever wanted.”

Moments later Raven’s wish became reality. She was Drake’s wife. Her child would bear his name and know a father’s love. She savored Drake’s kiss and clung to him, tears blurring her eyes as they received a standing ovation from all those present. Then, disregarding ceremony, Drake swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to their chamber. Once inside, he slammed the door shut with his foot and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

Then he knelt at her feet, peeled back her skirts, and removed her shoes and stockings. “Tonight is ours to savor,” he said, kissing his way up her bare leg to her inner thigh. “I am going to love you so thoroughly, no one will ever question the legality of our marriage.”

“Our marriage was consummated long before the priest spoke the words over us,” Raven quipped.

His mouth paused on a tender spot above her knee. “I will always regret the way I took you that first time.”

“Do not. I regret naught.”

That dark feeling came over her again and she shivered. Drake sat back on his haunches and stared at her. “Something is wrong. Tell me.”

Raven bit her bottom lip, aware that her explanation had no basis in fact. She shook her head. “I cannot. ’Tis naught but a feeling.”

“ ’Tis Waldo,” Drake said harshly.

“Aye,” she admitted. “He frightens me. He will always be there, waiting to hurt you.”

“I can handle Waldo. He has no power. Though not penniless, he no longer claims Eyre’s wealth or manpower.”

“What will he do?”

“Return to his small demesne near York. I suspect he’ll hide there to lick his wounds. Forget him, my love. I have. I will never let him hurt you again.” He kissed her nose. “Smile. ’Tis our wedding night. I want to undress you slowly,
to kiss you until you lose your fears, and to make love to you until you beg me to stop.”

The breath caught in Raven’s throat. “I want that, too. I want to feast my eyes upon your warrior’s body, to return your kisses until we are both breathless, and to feel your hardness moving inside me. Oh, Drake, thank God for the king. Without him we would not be husband and wife.”

“We will pray for his long life,” Drake allowed. “But not tonight. Stand up, my love. You are wearing far too much clothing for my liking.”

He stripped her slowly, kissing and stroking each part of her body as he bared it. When she finally stood before him, gloriously naked, she was shaking so violently she could scarcely breathe. She admired his warrior’s body as he stripped himself as naked as she. They faced one another as God had made them, bare, without artifice or pretense.

Suddenly shy, Raven tried to hide her growing girth with her hands, but Drake would not allow it. He smiled and pulled her hands away, then bent to kiss her stomach. “Nay, do not hide yourself from me. ’Tis my child growing inside you. You have never looked more beautiful to me than you do now.”

He bore her down upon the bed, covering her with his body. She hooked her arms around his neck, bringing his face down to hers. They kissed fervently, their kisses increasing in length until both were gasping for breath. Their tongues tangled and dueled, as if they could not get enough of one another. His caresses were tender, patient, arousing her slowly, with great gentleness despite his raging need. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and licked the hardened nub. She shifted restlessly and moaned.

After a long time he abandoned her nipples and slid his mouth over her flushed skin, lapping a trail of fire down her belly and lower, until his hot mouth claimed a spot so sweet
the pleasure was nearly unbearable. She arched upward into his wet caress as his fingers opened her and his mouth sought even greater intimacy.

On fire, trembling with need, Raven pulled on his hair to claim his attention. “Come inside me, please!”

He smiled and moved over her, his face inches from hers, and with one quick, smooth thrust, he was deep inside her. She surged against him, taking him, all of him, wanting more. They strained together, seeking, hungry mouths joined, their passion ignited, driving them to even greater heights.

Fulfillment, absorbing, all-consuming, burst upon them simultaneously. Rapture flowed, crested, flinging them over the edge of forever, then ebbed, floating them in a sea of sublime ecstasy. Blissfully satisfied and totally spent, they clung to one another, vowing without words their everlasting love.

Drake eased beside her and placed a tender kiss upon her lips. She snuggled close and laid her head on his shoulder.

“You belong to the Black Knight now,” Drake said, pulling her possessively against him. “Naught but death will part us.”

Though she was happy and sated, Raven’s mind refused to relinquish the fear that had been plaguing her since the day Waldo had appeared at Windhurst. Drake had just told her that only death would part them. Were the words a harbinger of doom? Were they more prophetic than either of them realized?

She knew Waldo, knew how he thought, and he was not going to give her up without a fight. Though the king had ruled in Drake’s favor, she feared they had not heard the last of Waldo.

There was something, something she could not put her finger on, that warned her Waldo’s evil was driven by fear. Fear of what? What horrible thing in his past drove him? Was it Daria? He had denied killing her sister, but she did not believe him. It suddenly occurred to Raven that the darkness she felt around her was not her own. It was Waldo’s. His past
held something so sordid and contemptible that evil emanated from him in waves. Was she the only one who perceived the corruptness of Waldo’s soul, the only one who worried about it?

Then Drake reached for her again and she went willingly into his arms, losing herself in his lovemaking.

Afterward, sleep came, but it was not an easy sleep, for a villain bent on mayhem lurked in the darkness.

A
knight’s vow to protect his lady is not given lightly
.

The persistent clanging of a bell dragged Drake from a deep sleep. He shook himself awake and pulled on his hose. Since he had no knowledge of the nature of the catastrophe, he grasped his sword and headed for the door. It was then he noticed the orange light flickering against the windows and realized the calamity was worse than he’d thought.

Fire.

He ran to the door; Raven’s voice stopped him. “Is aught amiss, Drake?”

His answer was forestalled by a frantic hammering on the door. “Drake, ’tis Sir John. There is fire below in the inner bailey. The smithy is already ablaze and the kitchen is threatened.”

Drake’s heart thundered wildly. Fire! “Organize a bucket brigade,” he called through the door. “I will be down directly.”

“Wait for me,” Raven cried, throwing back the covers.

“Nay, do not bestir yourself, my love,” Drake said as he donned his leather hauberk. “Remain in the keep, where you will be safe.” When Raven objected, he said, “Promise me.”

“Very well,” Raven reluctantly agreed. “Be careful.”

Drake kissed her lightly on the mouth and made a hasty exit. Raven did not lie abed long. She rose and dressed in haste, wanting to be ready should she be needed below. She moved to the window. The bright red glow against the inky black sky was stunning . . . and frightening.

She could not see the smithy from her window; it was situated around the corner of the keep, separated from the kitchen by a storeroom. All the buildings had thatched
roofs, and Raven feared a spark would ignite the roof of the shed and quickly spread the blaze to the kitchen. Should the wind pick up, all the buildings in the inner bailey could go up in flames.

Raven was so worried about the spreading fire that she did not hear the chamber door open, nor was she aware of a presence behind her. She was aware of nothing until she felt a hard hand clamp over her mouth and a brawny arm anchor her against a solid body.

“Well, dear
wife
, I finally find you alone,” a voice whispered into her ear.

Waldo! Sheer panic seized her. She kicked backward, but her soft slipper did nothing but earn her a vicious shake.

“Try that again and I will kill you,” Waldo said in a growl.

Suddenly her mouth was free and she opened it to scream. The scream died in her throat when she felt a knife pressed against her stomach, where her child grew.

“What do you want?”

“Is that not obvious?” Waldo said against her ear.

He released his hold on her waist and tore the cords from the drapery. “Put your arms behind you.”

Fearing for her unborn child, she did as he directed. He quickly bound her arms behind her and dragged her to the bed, roughly pushing her down. Fearing that he would take her sexually, she vowed, “I will scream if you touch me.”

“Scream all you want,” he said with a snarl. “No one will hear you. Everyone is in the bailey battling the fires, and these walls are thick. Besides, I have other plans for you,” he said as he knelt and bound her ankles. “You are Drake’s weakness. Losing you will hurt him more than anything I could do to him, including a quick death. Killing is too easy, too painless. Nay, I have something else in mind. Something that will make you suffer as much as Drake when he cannot find you. Your death is likely to be slow, but all the better.”

Despair settled over Raven. Waldo was right. She could
scream at the top of her lungs and no one would hear her. She had to keep her wits about her until she learned what Waldo planned for her.

“What are you going to do?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Where is your cloak?”

He spied it hanging on a hook. He removed it, along with a silk scarf he found lying nearby. Raven had scant time to wonder what he was going to do with the scarf, for he grasped her chin and stuffed the scarf into her mouth.

“Now I won’t have to listen to your carping,” he said, hauling her to her feet and settling the cloak around her shoulders.

He ignored Raven’s muffled cries as he pulled the hood over her head and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Raven could see little except his heels as he opened the door and peered into the corridor.

“Deserted,” Waldo crowed as he descended the narrow stone staircase. His shoulder dug into her stomach, and she emitted a silent groan as she bounced against him. She tried to kick him but he held her legs securely.

The hall was deserted. Dismay turned to panic when Raven realized that everyone, including the servants, was in the bailey fighting the fire. Waldo quickly traversed the hall and opened the door. When Raven felt a blast of cold air, true fear gripped her. Waldo was going to carry her away without anyone being the wiser. Raven raised her head and saw people rushing between the pump and the burning buildings, too intent upon the fire to notice them.

When Waldo veered away from the burning buildings, Raven realized he was heading for the stables. Abruptly it occurred to her that the fire had not been an accident. Whoever had started it knew precisely what he was doing and exactly where to set the fire in order to conceal his movements.

Waldo.

Once inside the stables, Raven saw that Waldo’s horse was
already saddled. He tossed Raven upon the destrier’s broad back and mounted behind her. With a flick of the wrist he guided the horse out of the stable and toward the portcullis, which was still raised to allow the men camped outside the walls free access to the keep. To Raven’s horror, the gatekeeper had abandoned his post to fight the fire, just like everyone else in the castle.

When they rode through the barbican unchallenged, Raven’s heart sank. It appeared that Waldo would have his revenge after all. Drake would never see their child. She would not live to give birth. They rode along the cliffs now, the howling wind tearing at her cloak. She heard the sea crashing against the rocks below and wondered what Waldo had in mind when he guided his destrier down a steep incline leading to the beach. Did he intend to drown her?

The thunderous sound increased as they neared the narrow strip of beach at the bottom of the cliff. Sea spray dampened her face and plastered her hair against her cheeks.

“We are almost there,” Waldo said above the roar of the crashing surf.

Where? Where?
Raven cried in silent supplication. When Waldo drew rein, Raven feared she had been right. Waldo did indeed intend to drown her.

Waldo dismounted and pulled Raven down with him. Then he tossed her over his shoulder and ascended a rocky path that led sharply upward. He was panting when he finally let her drop to the ground. To Raven’s horror, she found herself in a place so dark she felt as if she had been thrust into the deepest pit of hell.

A light flared. Waldo appeared before her, holding a torchlight and looking so smug she wanted to smash the smile off his face.

“As you can see,” Waldo pointed out, “we are in a cave. You will die of hunger and thirst before anyone finds you. Mayhap you will never be found.”