Fire Song (46 page)

She heard him draw in his breath sharply. “I have not been a very loving husband to you,” he said slowly, turning her to face him. “But that will change. You see, Kassia, I have never before wanted a woman as I want you. I never believed a man could truly love a woman, yield to her without losing the essence of his strength.” He gently stroked his hands over her arms, and his voice deepened. “I have not known much gentleness in my life, Kassia, yet I know now that I would never willingly hurt you again. I love you, and because I love you, I want you to come home with me.”

She gazed up at him, her breath caught in her throat. “But you cannot love me,” she cried. “You do not trust me!”

“I would trust you with my life,” he said simply.

“Has . . . has Blanche finally admitted the truth to you?”

“No, I have heard nothing from Blanche.”

“Then why? Why are you acting this way? Why are you saying these things to me? I told you that you would not lose Belleterre! Do you wish my father also to assure you of that fact?”

His grip on her arms tightened slightly. “I see that if there is trust to be gained, it is you to learn that I can be believed. No, do not raise that little chin of yours at me, though it is a delightful part of you. Will you consent to believe me, Kassia?”

She stared at him numbly, her eyes wide with confusion.

“Will you consider forgiving me for all I have done to you? Can you still love me?”

She lowered her head from his intense gaze. “I have no choice but to love you. But . . . but I am not Chandra! I have not the talent to be as she!”

He drew her close, gently pressing her cheek against his chest. She could feel the deep rumbling of laughter as he stroked his hands down her back. “I once told Guy that Chandra is a prince among women. I wish to be with a princess, my lady. I wish to love you, watch you smile and laugh, watch your small belly grow with our children.

“I want to hear you cry out your passion for me when I love you. Kiss me, Kassia.”

She felt her heart expand with such happiness that she could scarcely think straight. Mutely she raised her head. She felt his hands cup her buttocks and raise her from the floor, fitting her belly against him. He kissed her very gently, lightly nipping at her lower lip. She
gasped with the pleasure of it, and parted her lips to his tongue.

She felt his powerful body tremble with need for her. Her breasts felt swollen, as if he had caressed them. “Graelam,” she whispered softly into his mouth.

He laid her on her back onto the bed. “Will you let me love you now, Kassia?”

He made no move to touch her, but waited patiently for her to answer him. “Aye,” she said. “I want you to love me. It has been so long . . . and you taught me too well.”

She saw his dark eyes leap at her words. Slowly, as if she were a precious treasure, he undressed her, pausing as he removed each article of clothing to caress and kiss her. When her breasts were bare to his gaze, he smiled down at her. “You are more beautiful than I remembered. So delicate.” Slowly he began to kiss her breasts, circling her taut nipples, teasing her. When he heard her moan softly, he eased the rest of her clothes from her body. “By all the saints,” he said in a husky, deep voice, his hands following his eyes to stroke her ribs and belly, “you are the most lovely of God’s creations.”

“Not so beautiful and perfect as you are,” she said, her eyes sweeping down his body.

“And just how many men have you seen naked?” he gently mocked her.

“If ever I see another man naked, I should likely laugh, for no man could look as you do.”

His fingers found her, and she gasped, her hips arching up of their own volition.

“You are so warm, so ready for me,” he said, fitting himself beside her. He continued to caress her rhythmically as he looked directly into her eyes. He watched
them grow smoky with burgeoning desire, and felt his entire being expand with pleasure when she cried out softly for him. But he held himself back. Slowly, with infinite care, he eased himself between her legs. He lifted her hips in his hands and lowered his mouth to her. She jerked upward, crying out. He reveled in her pleasure. She was shuddering in the rippling aftermath when he slowly rose over her and eased into her. She raised her hips to receive him, and gasped as he filled her. She whimpered softly, her hands clutching his back as he thrust into her. She repeated his name again and again, and when he tensed over her, she felt herself opening even more to him, welcoming the seed that burst from his body deep within her.

She welcomed his weight, holding him tightly against her.

“Nay, love,” he said softly, “I am too heavy for you.” Gently he eased out of her and turned her on her side to face him.

“Thank you,” Kassia said, turning her face into his shoulder.

“For what?”

“For loving me.”

“You will never doubt it again. Now I will let you sleep before I hear you moan with pleasure again. The shadows under your eyes are interesting, but I would prefer you lost them.”

“I too,” she murmured. She fell asleep in a cocoon of warmth. She woke slowly, disoriented, until she felt a surge of pure pleasure warm her belly. Graelam was deep inside her, still facing her, his fingers stroking her.

“I love you,” she whispered, and pressed herself tightly against him.

He gently drew her hand down between them and let her feel his fingers caressing her. Her embarrassment was a brief illusion. “Feel how you want me,” he murmured softly against her lips.

She moaned in his mouth and felt him smile. She moved her fingers away from his grasp and touched him. At his sharp indrawn breath, she smiled. “I feel how you want me, my lord.”

They walked together in the gentle sunlight, Graelam’s arm about his wife’s waist, his head lowered to hear her speak.

“Graelam, my father knew! He looked at me so oddly this morning!”

Graelam chuckled. “At least he did not believe that I was holding you in your bedchamber, thrashing you. The glowing smile on your face testified to my innocence.”

“Speaking of smiles, did you see how Rolfe looked at us? And the rest of the men?”

“Aye, they are most pleased, and relieved that I am no longer a braying ass.”

Her eyes twinkled at him, and her dimples deepened. “Aye, my lord, as am I!”

Graelam was silent for a moment, his gaze resting thoughtfully on the bare-branched trees in Belleterre’s orchard. “I wish to tell you something, Kassia.”

She tensed at his tone, and he felt it. “Nay, love, ’tis not a bad thing, but a confession of sorts. I wish there
only to be truth between us.” He paused a moment, then lifted her in his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “That is to assure you that my feelings have not changed and never will.”

She wrapped her arms about his neck and pressed herself against him. “I need no confession, my lord.”

He set her down. “Nay, little wench. Listen to me. When I left Wolffeton to visit the Duke of Cornwall, many things became clear to me. I will admit to you that the duke, the interfering old goat, did call me a fool whilst we spoke of you. But he did speak the truth. To love a woman well, to yield to her, does not weaken a man. It has been a difficult truth for me to accept, but accept it I did. When I returned to Wolffeton, I intended to tell you of what I felt for you. But you were gone.

“Two nights ago I was lying in my tent, as miserable as a man can be, when Dienwald de Fortenberry entered. When he told me who he was, I was ready to break his neck. He told me, Kassia, that he owed you a debt, and to pay it meant he must speak the truth to me. We parted friends, my love. No, do not draw away from me. Had he told me that you had hired him a dozen times to remove you from my hold, it would have changed naught. You see, it no longer mattered. It was up to you to forgive me my distrust, my blind conceit, not the other way around. So you see, Dienwald or no Dienwald, it made no difference in my feelings for you.”

Graelam chuckled softly. “I think he would have liked to return that damned necklace to me.”

“He has been kind to me, Graelam,” Kassia said, “and I hoped that when Sir Walter brought him to Wolffeton, he would tell you the truth then. I released
him only to spare him pain. But he had to escape. He felt very guilty about it, I think.”

“He did indeed. Do you believe me, Kassia? Believe that I did not change my feelings for you because of his words?”

“I believe you, my lord.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, if I could see Blanche. How I should love to sever her tongue!”

“Why not ask her and Guy to visit Wolffeton? You can then challenge her to an archery match.”

She giggled, and because she was so happy, threw her arms about his waist, squeezing him with all her strength.

“Attacked by a fly,” Graelam said, leaning down to nibble at her ear. “Ah, my love, I see your father eyeing us. Shall we assure him that I am not coercing you?”

Geoffrey could scarce credit his man’s words. Graelam de Moreton, his enemy, the only man who stood between him and Belleterre, was in Brittany! Over the past months he had ground his teeth in frustration, especially when it had become clear to him that to assassinate Graelam in Cornwall was a plan doomed to failure. The man was always too well-protected, his men too loyal. But now he was here, and with but a dozen men guarding him.

Geoffrey knew every hillock in Brittany, every likely spot for an ambush. He wondered idly if Kassia would care if he butchered her husband. If she did, it would take him a bit more time to bring her around. If she threatened to denounce him, he would simply lock her away and beat her, for he would force her to wed him immediately. He smiled at the thought. His proud little
cousin would not long berate him. He was, after all, a man who knew women well. They were simple and easily led.

He rode purposefully away from his keep, wanting to avoid his mother. He had not seen her for many weeks now, having just returned from the court in Paris, for her acerbic tongue was enough to drive any man to distraction. She would change her stance once Kassia was his wife, and Belleterre would be his after his uncle had died.

Graelam and Kassia left Belleterre three days later. Early-spring weather blessed their journey, a sign, Graelam assured Kassia, straight from the Duke of Cornwall. That wily old man believed he had the direct ear of the Lord Almighty.

“Mayhap Papa also talks into that same ear,” Kassia said. “I have never seen him so pleased!”

“Do not forget your winsome stepmother. I vow it was her influence that kept your father from beating down your bedchamber door that first evening I arrived. Aye, a wise woman. She doubtless recognized me as your proper master, and knew you would succumb quickly enough to me.”

“Conceited brute!” Kassia said in high good humor.

“I was forced to tell her that you would not allow me out of your bed,” Graelam continued in great seriousness. “Likely she was concerned that your woman’s appetites would exhaust me.”

Kassia flushed a rosy pink. She saw that he would continue to tease her, and decided it was her turn. “You know, my lord, I must admit that suffering your great body is a mighty chore.”

He was not to be drawn. “And a nightly one, Kassia.
I also have wondered how your skinny little parts accommodate me so nicely. I think you forget my mighty size once you are mewling with pleasure.”

She reached out and struck his shoulder, laughing as she did so.

Rolfe nodded, a wide, amazed smile parting his lips as he watched his master and mistress. Never had he believed Lord Graelam could be so much at his ease with a woman. Life was much improved, he thought, aye, much improved indeed. In the next moment, all thoughts of improved life fled his mind, at the sound of one of the men screaming in pain.

“Brigands!” Rolfe shouted at the top of his lungs, twisting around in his saddle, his hand already upon his sword hilt. “An ambush!” He looked wildly about at the narrow passage, at the boulders rising high into the air, surrounding them.

Long years of training kept panic at bay. Graelam coolly analyzed their situation, a fraction of a second passing before he shouted orders.

“All of you, dismount and press under the overhangs in the cliffs! The whoresons will have to come in to get at us!”

Graelam grabbed Kassia off Bluebell’s back, protecting her with his body. An arrow tore through the chain mail at his side, but did him no harm. He pulled her to an indentation between two mighty boulders and shoved her inside. “Crouch down and cover yourself with your cloak!”

Kassia obeyed him, her mind whirling with sudden fear. Brigands! She winced at the scream of a horse. Graelam moved swiftly away from her, his back pressed against the stones, until he was crouched next to Rolfe and three of his men.

“We must discover the leader,” he said tersely. “James there is a small cleavage between those boulders yon. Think you that you can ease through it? See the number of men who are there?”

“Aye, my lord,” James said, fear and excitement flowing through him. He was fairly new to Lord Graelam’s service, and now he would prove himself. He inched away, licking his tongue over his suddenly dry lips, and squeezed his slender body upward through the narrow passage.

Kassia felt a frisson of terror at the sudden utter silence. The horses had calmed, for there were no more arrows raining down. She began to pray, calling upon every litany she had learned since childhood.

The wait seemed an eternity. Graelam held himself perfectly still, listening to any sound that would give him information. He heard a slithering noise and twisted about to see James slip down beside him.

“ ’Tis some sort of lord,” James said. “I saw him seated on his destrier, dressed in gleaming armor, a man beside him holding his standard. An eagle, my lord, its beak blood-red.”

Graelam frowned. Something Kassia had said many months ago stirred in his memory. “Do not move, any of you.”

He moved like a stalking panther, slipping in and out of the protective crevices until he reached Kassia.

“It is all right, love,” he quickly assured her, seeing her utterly white face. “A standard, Kassia, one with an eagle on it.”