Iloria (6 page)

The woman was impossible. Infuriating. Why Ciar had insisted on touring the grounds at Iloria’s side and leaving Farran to the less-than-tender mercies of his lady was beyond his understanding. “You are a thoroughly aggravating woman.”

“Coming from you, I consider that a compliment.” She tilted her head to one side. “Do you want her to stay or go? It’s a fairly simple question.”

“I want her to stay.” Panic gripped him. “Why, has she asked to leave?” Surely not. Not when things had turned around, when he’d done so well at following Talen’s exasperated advice, had even begun to forge a tentative bond between them.

Sabine covered her face with her hands and muttered something. “If you want to know Iloria’s feelings on the subject, ask her. And don’t stop there, for the goddess’s sake. Talk to her and tell her
your
feelings.”

He choked on a laughing snarl. “I don’t see why I should bother when clearly you’ve been talking enough for the both of us. Don’t you and Ciar have better things to do than rummage around in other peoples’ marriages?”

“Nothing,” she answered dryly. “Not a single damned thing in the world to do but meddle in your life, so aren’t you lucky?”

Damn the woman, it was hard to stay angry at her. “Go home and have some babies. They’ll keep you out of trouble. Or get you into it, knowing what a terror Ciar was as a child.”

“Watch the way you threaten others.” Her bland expression didn’t change. “Iloria’s parents took pains to assure me that women in their family are blessed with bountiful fertility.”

“Of course they did.” The words covered his alarm—and the sudden, intense longing that twisted inside him, the promise of the family he’d denied himself for so many years. “Her parents would have assured anyone of anything that would increase their station at their daughter’s expense.”

“Yes.” Sabine patted his hand. “Ciar came to tell Iloria of her other offers because it is his duty.
I
came to tell
you
that her most persistent suitor is the Second Warlord.”

Farran jerked away from her and paced the length of his study. When his rage didn’t dissipate, he did it a second time, carefully counting each step. It normally took twenty placid paces to cover the space between his desk and the wall. Now, with fury burning a hole inside him, it took only fourteen.

The Second Warlord, the man who had worked at his side for long enough to know and trust him, was trying to steal his wife. “I’ll murder the bastard.”

“No, you won’t, because the main argument he’s made is that you’re a violent man, unsuited to caring for a woman of Iloria’s delicacy.”

If the claim hadn’t held an unfortunate sting of truth, he might have been able to calm himself. “Does she look mistreated?”

“No.”

“Does she look uncared for?”

This time, Sabine hesitated for an almost imperceptible moment. “No.”

He couldn’t help his growl. “Say it, Sabine. Whatever it is, say it.”

She spoke slowly. Cautiously. “You haven’t mated her, Farran. It raises some questions. It also leaves the door open for these other suitors, and for her family’s belated protests.”

Farran drew in a deep breath. “I won’t be like my father. I won’t take a virgin to bed, knowing full well that my curse will bring on the mating frenzy. And if she’s too afraid to give in to the mating? If she’s not
ready
? It will happen every time.”

Sabine shrugged helplessly. “I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t come to tell you how to live your life. If you and Iloria are both satisfied with your situation and your marriage, Ciar and I will take our leave.”

“I’m satisfied,” he said, making the words firm. Final. “I suppose Ciar has taken my wife for a walk to find out if she is? Is this his idea of a deft strategy?”

The High Lady unbent enough to laugh. “I believe his goal was to avoid fisticuffs. To that end, it would seem he has succeeded.”

Yes, if Ciar had been facing him, he might well have planted a fist across his friend’s jaw. “So he sent you to tame the monster. If he expects to find my wife placid, he may be surprised.”

“Indeed.” Sabine grinned wickedly. “I warned him of as much, but he still may get slapped.”

Farran had been acting odd all evening, but Iloria couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t every day that the leader of the wolves came to your home to ask if you wished to dissolve your marriage.

She clung to Farran’s arm and slowed her steps. The longer they took to reach her room, the more time they would have to talk. So far, they’d walked in silence, mostly because she had no idea where to begin.

“Dinner was lovely,” she said finally, immediately fighting a wince. Why was it so difficult to talk of the things that really mattered, that might determine her future? “I mean—”

“Dinner was not lovely.” A hint of humor tinged the words, dry though it was. “I was an irritated, difficult host, and Ciar deserved every moment of it.”

“He was only satisfying his responsibilities, Farran.”

“Fuck his responsibilities. I doubt very much that he’ll be visiting every newly wedded wolf in the forest to inquire as to how well the husband has bedded his wife.”

The words brought heat to her cheeks, and she looked away. “He said nothing of the sort to me.”

“Damn it.” Farran heaved a sigh and urged her to walk faster as they approached her suite. “I’m sorry. I’m taking out my frustrations on you. It isn’t easy, to be so horrific a beast that people feel the need to inquire after your safety. Harder knowing how many times I have made you unhappy.”

“No.” She dug in her heels and stopped in the hallway. “You’re not a beast, and I’m only unhappy when I think—when I think you may not want me.”

He stopped, as well. “I’m a bit of a beast,” he said quietly. “But I want you, with all my wretched heart.”

Iloria’s pulse pounded, but the last unsettled bit of doubt inside her calmed at the words. “That’s the first time you’ve said it,” she whispered. “You’ve told me that you didn’t expect me, that I surprised you, but you’ve never said you want me to stay.”

“Of course I have...” But the words trailed off, and a moment later he closed his eyes with another curse. “I
am
a beast. How do you tolerate me?”

Tolerate
was a weak word, unacceptable when she could love him with every fiber of her being. “To my room,” she said, squeezing his hand. “I want my good night kiss, and tomorrow we can tell the High Lord he may leave us alone, and in good conscience.”

That made him smile. “You enjoy your evening kisses, at least.”

“How could I not?” She opened the door to her suite and tugged him into the antechamber. “I told you that first night that I enjoy having you touch me.”

“Mmm.” There was an edge to his smile tonight, a leashed danger as he slid his hand to her hip, turned her, and pulled her back against him. “So you did. And so you do.”

He was warm behind her, strong, and she let her head fall back against his shoulder. “I would enjoy having you touch me
more
.”

“Is that so?” He wound one large hand in her skirts and smoothed the other up to cup her breast. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, wife? Not even a little bit.”

“No.” She’d never worried for her safety with him. “You bring me only pleasure.”

He growled against her throat and tore the fabric of her overskirt like flimsy paper. “No one can take you away from me. Not if you want to stay.”

Her dress ripped again when she turned in his arms, but Iloria paid it no mind. Nothing mattered but the possession in his words and finding out whether it would be echoed in his kiss.

But he didn’t kiss her. Instead, his hand drifted up her back to tangle in her hair, destroying an hour’s worth of fussing by her maid. He used the grip to tilt her head back as his mouth found her pulse. “Do you desire this?”

She slipped her arms around him. “You know I do. Some nights, I can barely sleep for wanting you in my bed.”

“And yet the things I’ve done to you...” He bit her throat so hard that she sucked in a sharp breath. “Barely a taste of what the mating madness could bring.”

The rough caress didn’t diminish her longing for him. “I trust you not to hurt me.”

“Perhaps you should not,” he rasped, his hands shifting to the bodice of her gown. One violent pull and it fell away. “Not when others want to take you away from me.”

The sheer force of it kindled the first stirrings of concern, and she gathered the fabric and held it to her chest. “Farran, no one is taking me away.”

He dragged in an unsteady breath, his chest heaving as he stared at her with eyes gone a bit wild. “No one is taking you away.”

“I’m here.” The assurance seemed to calm him, so she eased the remains of her dress from her shoulders, let it fall, and stood there in her shift. “Kiss me.”

This time the hands that slid into her hair were gentle. He cupped her head and tilted it back, then feathered his lips against hers until she opened her mouth and let him in.

He kissed her with single-minded intent, a thorough exploration that left her trembling. Perhaps this would be the night he’d stay, when he’d peel off her clothes and show her everything.

The fantasy made her bold, and she licked his lower lip. “Take off your shirt?”

He nipped at her tongue with a warning rumble softened by a smile as he eased back. “If the thought pleases you, remove it.”

It wasn’t easy to loosen the garment without taking her mouth from his jaw, but she succeeded. She drew the linen up and over his head but halted with her gaze riveted to his bare chest. “I don’t know what to do first,” she murmured, then turned the words into a lie by touching her lips to the hollow of his throat.

“Yes.” His fingers clenched in her hair again, but this time it seemed more reaction than deliberate choice. “You may place those sweet lips anywhere that pleases you.”

“Anywhere?” She lifted her gaze to his as she traced her tongue over his collarbone. “Be careful what you offer.”

“Where would you put them, my sweet?” He leaned down, pressed his mouth to her ear. “Did your tutors tell you how to bring a man to his knees by taking his cock into your mouth?”

“There was some discussion of it.” Even her
voice
trembled, which certainly wasn’t the way to project a confident image. So she steadied herself and slid one hand down the front of his body. “Shall I show you?”

When her fingers came even with his heavy belt, he caught her wrist. His hand was large enough to easily encircle it, but his iron grip remained carefully gentle. “These are dangerous games, my lady. Perhaps words are safer than actions tonight. A tease instead of a trial.”

She remembered the wildness in his eyes and relented with a nod and a step back. He still stared at her as though he longed to ravish her, and she understood the sentiment. “I believe the thing I want most is your pleasure, my lord. You’ve given me glimpses of it, tiny tastes, and I find myself hungry for more.”

He turned from her, scanning the room until his gaze settled on one of the low-backed couches. Two long strides took him across the room, and he dropped to it before crooking a finger at her. “Come here, Iloria, and sit astride my lap.”

She picked at the ribbons on the neckline of her shift, unlacing them as she walked. “Clothed?”

“Clothed,” he ground out quickly. “Trust me.”

A configuration her tutor had never covered, though it made sense as soon as she slipped onto his lap. The hard length of his erection rubbed through their clothes, just as it would nestle inside her if they had been naked. “Yes, I understand.”

“So studious.” He gripped her hips and drew her closer. “This isn’t something to understand. Close your eyes and feel why it can be so very gratifying.”

Iloria did as he commanded. Each gentle rocking motion sent bolts of sensation shooting through her, until she finally clutched his shoulders and shuddered through a moan.

His mouth found the curve of her breast, hot and wet as he murmured against her skin. “Find your satisfaction. Move your hips and show me what you need.”

Slow and hard, the way the courtesan had told her to begin. As an experiment, she circled her hips as she ground against him. It worked, perhaps a bit too well, because it was suddenly hard to catch her breath. “Farran—”

He shifted his mouth lower and caught her nipple between his teeth.

A wave of tense pleasure crashed through her, and she bit her lip against the need to cry out. To beg for more.

Teeth turned to tongue, wicked, dragging licks interspersed with brief sucking. And now he was making noises too, low groans as the hand at the small of her back urged her to rock harder against him.

It was overwhelming, something just short of but also beyond release. She’d known her own touch but nothing like this. “Please,” she whispered, entranced by the sounds he made. “Show me, love.”

He worked one hand between them, under her shift until his fingertips found bare flesh, and pressed his thumb to her clit.

Iloria tossed back her head, his name on her lips. Quiet was a thing of the past, something that couldn’t coexist with the decadent bliss that coiled through her. She surrendered to it, dug her nails into Farran’s shoulders and held on as she rode every exquisite throb to completion.

It thrilled him. He showed it with his groans, with the wild way he watched her face as she eased back from the edge. Then he twisted his hand, working two fingers inside her as he bit off a growl. “Again. Ride my fingers until we both come.”

She couldn’t. Not again, so soon, though his fingers curled, rubbed inside her and choked off her protests with another surge of ecstasy. “Oh—yes—”

“That’s right,” he whispered. “You’re so aroused, so eager. I can feel it through my pants, feel how hot and wet your cunt is. Your sweet wiggling will bring me release.”

“You could take me now.” Desperation drove her to speak. “I’m ready for you.”

“Not yet.” It was almost a snarl. “Not until they’re gone.”

It took her a moment to realize he was talking about their guests. “They’re on the other side of the castle. They can’t hear us.”