Guardian of Darkness (38 page)

His hand was on her breast as he kissed her furiously.  But he soon moved away from her mouth, blazing a trail with his mouth that ended up at her breasts. He took a peaked nipple in his mouth, suckling strongly as she writhed and bucked beneath him.  Her movements were purely instinctive, a natural reaction to his body and actions, and it only served to fuel his fervor.  He was trying to go slowly with her; God knows he was trying.  But she was responding to him as if she knew what he wanted and it was driving him over the edge.

As one arm held her close, he continued to nurse at her delightful breasts. Carington’s hands were in his hair, harsh little pants coming from her lips. His free hand moved down her flat belly to the fluff of dark curls between her legs.  He gently touched her thighs first, very close to the junction where her legs joined, but refrained from touching her most intimate place for the moment.  He was attempting to make her comfortable with his touch before forging into virgin territory.  But Carington’s body was heaving so much that his fingers ended up wedged between her legs when she shifted.

He stroked her wet folds, listening to her pant.  It created a wild surge of hunger in him and he inserted his fingers into her before he realized he was doing it.  She gasped loudly, instinctively bringing her knees up to accommodated him, and Creed had all he could handle.  Returning his lips to her delicious mouth, he placed his enormous manhood at her threshold and carefully pushed his way into her.  He felt her stiffen.

“Creed,” she breathed fearfully.

He kissed her hard, silencing he words. “Relax, honey,” he murmured. “I promise I will be gentle.”

She whimpered as he thrust into her, listening to a softly strangled cry when he withdrew and thrust again, pushing deep inside her.  He held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her slender body as his hips did the work.  She was so slick that in little time, he was seated to the hilt to the sounds of his own gasping.

Carington hands were on his face as he began to move within her, his careful strokes increasing in power and pace.  She was so consumed with the feel and smell of him that she could think of little else. There was very little pain from their joining; merely a sense of fullness.  But the miraculous feelings he was bringing about as he stroked into her had her head spinning with delight. 

His body was creating a raging fire within her loins. She could feel his manroot moving in and out, a primal rhythm that she soon learned to follow.  Her hips began to grind against his, lightening bursting every time their bodies would come together.  The bursts of lightening grew stronger and brighter and she began to live for that next contact, that next stroke, that finally brought about the roll of thunder and ecstasy such as she had never known rippled through her body. She cried out with the sheer joy of it.  Creed thrust into her a few more times, his strokes so hard that her teeth rattled, before spilling himself deep into her beautiful body.

The roll of thunder eventually faded but did not die completely. Carington lay beneath her husband, feeling his massive body atop her with a satisfaction she had never known.  But her body was still so highly aroused that when he stroked her gently one last time, out of the sheer pleasure of being inside her, the thunder clapped again and she experienced the thrill of another climax.  Creed felt her tremor bursts and he clutched her buttocks against him, thrusting in and out of her sensually and feeling at least four more releases until they faded away completely.  As she lay weeping softly beneath him, he realized that he had grown hard again in an extremely short amount of time and he made love to her once more before experiencing a climax so hard that he bit his lip in the heat of passion. He could taste the blood. Carington released again beneath him; he could feel her tight walls throbbing strongly around his deeply embedded member.

When the panting died down and the only sound filling the room was the soft crackle of the fire, Creed just lay there and stared at her. Carington’s eyes were closed, her lips softly parted as she dozed exhaustedly.  He did not want to sleep, fearful of missing one moment of this glory. He was still entrenched in her delectable body, her legs still parted and wrapped around his hips, and he took a few moments to inspect the perfection of her figure. 

As he had noticed from the very beginning of their association, she had a body that put all other women to shame. He found himself gently touching her full, perfect breasts, his enormous hand delicately moving to her flat belly before traveling on to touch a thigh that was wrapped around him. When she suddenly wriggled and thrust her hips up against him, he realized that he was still quite aroused and he leaned forward, gently suckling her lips and feeling her sleepily respond.  Extremely gently, he grasped her buttocks and began slow and tender thrusts into her.  Carington responded by winding her arms around his neck, lifting her body against his and imitating his thrusting hips.   The more she thrust, the more aroused he became and soon, she was flat on her back while he plunged firmly into her.

Their lovemaking went well into the night until the soft dawn of a new day found them sleeping soundly in each other’s arms.

CHAPTER TWELVE

In spite of a night that had kept him active until an hour or two before dawn, Creed was up at sunrise.  He was not accustomed to sleeping during the night at all but last night had been an exception. He was the Guardian of Darkness, after all, and the night was his domain. But in his wildest dreams he could not have imagined the joy and adoration he had experienced and, quite possibly, he thought perhaps that he did not sleep at all. He remembered lying awake for what was surely hours as he watched Carington sleep. He still could not believe he had married her. Leaving his beautiful wife sleeping soundly, he dressed silently and quietly quit the chamber. 

He found Richard and Massimo in the solar adjacent to the great hall.   Richard was seated behind his heavy oak desk while the priest was perched on a stool near the fire, warming his backside as gentle conversation flowed.  Upon Creed entering the chamber, the priest bolted to his feet.

“Ah,” he said. “So you did not forget my need to speak with you before I left.”

Creed looked relaxed, rested and extraordinarily content. He shook his head at the priest. “I did not forget,” he scratched his stubble. “But I would hope that you did not expect me here at daybreak given the fact that I was only married last night. Clearly, I have been quite happily occupied.”

Richard cleared his throat at the innuendo, wriggling his eyebrows at Creed when the man turned to give him a lazy smile.  Richard, in fact, fought off a smirk at the expression on Creed’s face.  He was not surprised to see it.

“Be that as it may,” he tried to divert the naughty subject matter. “Father Massimo has some concerns before he returns to London. We were just discussing them before you came in.”

Creed seemed unconcerned. “Oh?” he began hunting around for something to eat. “What concerns?”

“He fears that taking a wife might feed the queen’s fury.”

The relaxed expression left Creed’s face. “Then do not tell her,” he said, looking between Richard and the priest. “It is a very simple matter; do not tell anyone. There is no reason you need to spread the news of my marriage all over London. It is, frankly, no one’s business.”

Massimo gaze was intense. “It was not my plan to announce it,” he replied. “But I will not lie if I am asked a direct question.”

Creed was fast losing his humor. He scratched his head irritably. “I am truly at a loss to understand why my marriage is such a concern.”

Massimo pursed his lips as he formulated a reply that would express his reservations adequately. “It would have been better for you to simply keep a low profile while this madness was going on,” he explained. “To marry in the midst of it gives you an almost rakish appearance, taking a wife while you are rumored to have gotten another woman pregnant. ‘Twould have preferable for you to have waited. This way, it almost appears as if you are taunting Isabella. I fear that it will cast a shadow on your innocence purely by perception.”

Creed’s good mood was gone. “I did not get another woman pregnant,” he jabbed a finger at the priest. “And I am not going to put my life on hold because a spoiled whore of a girl could not shoulder my rejection.”

They were very strong words coming from the usually cool Creed. Richard just looked at the priest, letting the man know with his expression that he supported Creed’s assertion.  Massimo put up his hands.

“Gentlemen,” he said softly. “I am not attempting to be belligerent. I am simply trying to see all angles of this.  Sir Creed, I told you before that I believed you. That has not changed. But I want you to understand all sides of the position you find yourself in. I want you to understand this is a very serious matter that is simply not going to vanish no matter how innocent you are.”

Creed cooled somewhat. “I do not expect it to vanish. But I do expect to be exonerated.”

“I can only promise to try,” the priest said. “But you must face the fact that you may have to come to London to be questions before the papal council.”

Creed stared at him. “Why?”

“As I said; to answer questions. They will want to hear your side of the tale from your own lips if I cannot convince them that the queen’s assertions are baseless.”

Creed’s jaw was ticking. “Why did you not tell me this before?”

“Because we had your innocence to establish with our first meeting. It was difficult enough given your hostile attitude and I chose not to elaborate on what may, or may not, happen should I not be able to convince the papal legate of your innocence.”

Creed gazed at him a moment longer before turning away, emitting a heavy sigh as he did so. “My God,” he muttered bitterly. “Does this never end? I have just lost my brother, for Christ’s sake; I have just taken a new wife, of which I am extremely happy, but the weight of the entire world is bearing down on my shoulders with the fate of a kingdom hanging in the balance because of something I have been undeservingly drawn in to. How much more sorrow and toil am I expected to bear?”

The priest was not unsympathetic. “God does not give you more of a burden than you can manage, my son,” he said quietly. “As with all things, this too shall pass. You must have faith.”

Creed fixed on him. “If you believe me as you say you do, then you must help me,” he was nearly pleading. “I did nothing wrong.”

Massimo nodded, sighing as he did so. “I will do what I can,” he muttered. “I can promise you that much.”

“Then you have my thanks.”

With a lingering glance at the two men, Massimo quit the solar and headed to the outer bailey where his papal escort await. Creed and Richard fell silent a moment, each lost to their thoughts, until Richard finally stood up from his chair and made his way to Creed. He paused, putting a hand on the man’s massive shoulder.

“I have holdings in Ireland,” he said quietly. “If the king is truly after you, then you can take your wife and go there until this situation blows over. They will never find you in Ireland.”

Creed looked at him. “You have always been a good friend to me and my brother, my lord,” he replied sincerely. “There is no way I can ever repay you for the risks you have taken on my behalf.”

Richard snorted softly. “You and Ryton have repaid me many times over,” he said. “You have kept Prudhoe and my family safe. I would take such risks for you time and time again.” His expression softened as he looked at Creed. “I cannot tell you how your brother’s death has grieved me. I was up most of the night dwelling on it. First Lenox and now Ryton… I can never express my sorrow adequately. When do you plan to take him home?”