Master of Craving (21 page)

 

“Your cousin?”

 

“Aye, that knave de Valrey. He has the manners of a boar.”

 

“Stefan is your cousin?” she stuttered in disbelief. He was a bastard mercenary.

 

“Unfortunately, he is.”

 

“But—I thought he was a bastard?”

 

“In heart and soul and name, he is. And though my uncle Robert refuses to acknowledge him, he is the mirror image of that great lord.”

 

“Who bore him?” She asked still not believing the Norman.

Ralph chuckled softly and moved in closer. She had only the wall to offer her refuge. “Ah, that is the great mystery. Some say ’twas the Duke’s own sister-in-law, Alyce. But if that were true, she being a married woman, her husband would have grounds for divorce, would he not?”

Arian looked harder at the man, and for the first time realized that while his blue eyes were not nearly as brilliant as Stefan’s, they were much the same. The information slowly sank in, and as it did, shame filled her at her treatment of him.

The news stunned her. He was a noble! But she should have realized it, for as much as he spoke of his humble heritage, he spoke as a noble, he carried himself with the confidence of one, and though he had the hardness of a mercenary, he knew well how to handle himself in a way that bespoke of courtly life.

Ralph touched her shoulder, his fingers sliding across the lock of hair that rested against her breast. She slapped his hand away. “Do not touch me, sir!”

 

“I but admire you, milady.” He moved in closer and inhaled her scent. “You smell sweet.” He pressed the palm of his hand to her breast. Arian twisted away from him.

 

“You are too bold, sir! I am spoken for, and even were I not, I give you no permission to touch me so!”

 

“But you allow a bastard to pant atop you?”

Arian gasped. “You speak untruths.” And despite it, her anger seethed not at the insult to herself, but to Stefan. She stepped toward the arrogant Norman. “And even had I,
noble
sir, your bastard cousin for all of his faults is five times the man you could ever hope to be! Do not slander him in my presence again. Now, be gone before I scream so loud the entire shire will come running to my defense!”

Ralph threw his head back and laughed. Arian wanted to strike him. He sobered and looked closely at her. “He has gotten to you too? ’Tis his way, milady, he is the master of seduction. He leaves a trail of broken hearts and bastards littered from one end of the continent to the other. He will do the same to you.”

Ralph’s words struck deep. A sickening feeling, like poison, spilled into her heart. Ralph moved closer. “I do not tell you this to slander but to warn. His heart is black with hatred of women.”

Arian’s fury mounted. “Are you so ignoble yourself, Sir Ralph, that you would have me lift my skirts here and now for your amusement?”

“Nay, fair lady, I would woo you as a lady of your station is due.” He reached out again to touch her, and when he did the unmistakable sound of a sword sliding from a scabbard sliced through the quiet.

“Touch her, Ralph, and you will find your innards on the floor,” Stefan said, emerging from the shadows.

 

“Do not challenge me, cousin. You will lose,” Ralph growled.

Stefan glanced at Arian, making sure she was not injured, then gave his full attention to his cousin. He pressed the tip of his sword to the man’s chest. “As wounded as I am, you are no match for me. If you would like to prove otherwise”—Stefan stepped back and pointed to the sword in Ralph’s belt—“draw your steel and let us clear this up here and now.”

Ralph’s fingers toyed with the hilt of his sword, his eyes narrowed to slits, and a twisted smile played upon his lips. “When I lay you low there will be more to witness it than the lady.” He bowed to her, then turned on his heel and stalked back toward the front of the hall.

Stefan sheathed his sword, then held out his hand to her, palm up, an invitation for her to take it. Instinctively her hand twitched, wanting to touch him, to place her hand in his, and to trust him. But she resisted. To touch him again, she feared she would succumb to more if he pressed her.

“I will not bite you, Arian,” Stefan said softly.

She looked up into his somber eyes for a long moment before she placed her hand into his. His long warm fingers closed gently around hers, and he drew her farther away from the hall to the small alcove just beyond. When they stopped, she withdrew her hand and squarely faced him, a tumult of emotions sparring in her chest.

Despite all she had learned of the man before her, Arian had warmed first at the deep, familiar timbre of his voice and second, to his gentle touch. The feeling angered her. “Would you slay your own cousin? Is violence your answer to every misdeed?” Whirling away, she moved to the edge of the deep alcove. He did things to her heart and body she did not understand, and, moreover, did not like.

He came to stand close behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiate from his body, and she could smell the clean manly scent of him. ’Twas of spice and sandalwood. She closed her eyes and set her jaw, warding off the warmth he stirred in her.

“That is the second time you have chastised me for preserving your virtue.” The soft percussion of his breath when he spoke caressed her ear.

 

She straightened her back. “You are wicked,” she breathed.

 

“Aye, I am more wicked than you will ever know, princess.”

She whirled around and caught her breath. His cobalt-blue eyes burned hot and bright under the low light of the wall sconces, and she noticed his wounded face had been tended. And tended well. There was no swelling and the redness had gone. The stitches were clean and neat. Without realizing what she did, Arian raised her hand to his cheek. He grabbed it and squeezed.
“I wish you no harm!” she cried out. Immediately he dropped her hand.

“Nor I you, so to that end do not touch me.”

 

Confused, Arian demanded, “Do I repulse you now?”

“Nay,” he said softly. “You forget, I have seen all that God gave you the day you were born.” He moved a step closer. “I have touched you in a way only a lover true should. The memories stir fire in my loins.”

Heat flushed her cheeks at his admission, and she felt it deepen when she envisioned him as she first saw him. Tall, muscular—hard. “As I have seen you, sir,” she whispered, not trusting her voice. Her knees quivered and her fingers twitched. A familiar warmth spread from her belly to other body parts. She realized it was a feeling unique to her proximity to the man before her.

He grinned, and Arian almost mirrored it. The gesture lit up his austere face, humanizing his demon features to handsome.

 

“Aye, you did, and a most unusual introduction was ours.”

 

Ralph’s words of Stefan’s amorous affairs prickled at her. “Have you seen many women as you saw me?” Arian bit her bottom lip, embarrassed she spoke what was on her mind.

 

Stefan’s smile widened. He reached out a hand to touch a lock of her hair. “If I am honest, I would say too many to count.”

Indignant, she gasped, but he moved a little closer, and brushed the tendril from her cheek. “But if I am truly honest, I will admit, I have never beheld such perfection as I did that morn.”

More heat spread through her veins at the knight’s bold confession. And though she had never been a woman who looked for compliments, she found his most welcome. And knowing that he made her feel as warm as if she were wrapped in furs in front of a roaring fire, Arian knew she played a game she was not permitted to. She was betrothed to a good man, and not only would her honor not allow her to dally again with the demon Norman, her heart could not bear the burden of loving him.

Swallowing hard, Arian moved to a safer distance.

Stefan shrugged and reached past her to a small table there, and filled two goblets with wine. He handed her a cup and took a long draught from his own. He drained it and set it down on the small table. “Drink up, milady, and I will see you back to your room. As you just witnessed, ’tis not safe for you at this late hour with so many men about.”

Stefan offered his arm, and when she placed her tiny hand upon his skin, heat flared. His groin tightened, and he fought the battle that raged within him. As they mounted the stairway, Arian’s sweet scent played with his senses. Dirty she had been beautiful; clean and garbed in rich clothes that fit, she glowed with ethereal beauty. He fondled the hilt of his sword, wanting a release. Arian looked up at Stefan, and asked, “How did you know I was in the hall?”

“You are under lock and key, milady; my man came to my chamber to alert me of your movement.”

 

“But he was snoring!”

 

“A ruse.”

As they approached her door, he maneuvered her against the wall near a sconce. The flame burned nowhere near as brightly as her eyes. “Beware, Arian. There is nowhere for you to hide, and if you should manage to slip past the guard, you will find more to fear outside the castle walls than here within them.”

“What are your plans for me?”

 

He placed a hand on either side of her head, against the stone. “At the moment, my plan is to steal a kiss.”

 

“How many women have you seduced, then left with child?”

 

Stefan started, her outburst halting him. “What kind of question is that?”

 

“One to which I would like an answer!”

He grinned and lowered his head to hers. His eyes trailed across her heaving bosom, the nipples taut beneath the thin fabric. He fought the urge to press his lips there. Instead, he lowered his lips to hover just above hers. “I do not keep count.”

“You are a lout,” she breathed.

“Aye, a lout who cannot help himself.” His lips brushed across hers, her breath warm against his cheeks. When she did not resist, his body swelled. He kissed her again, deepening it. Her soft lips parted beneath his. Stefan moved closer, his chest brushing against her full breasts; he smiled against her lips when her silvery eyes widened. Gently, he pressed her back into the wall. He kept his hands off her, knowing if he touched her he would want more than he did now.

But when she pressed her hands against his chest, then slid them up and around his neck, he grasped her to him. She moaned softly, capitulating, and he took full advantage. Starved for her, he kissed her hard and deep. Thoughts of her naked and willing beneath him swirled in his mind, of hearing her cries of pleasure as he thrust into her, firing his blood.

Frustration mingled with lust was not a good combination. As if reading his thoughts Arian pushed away from him. He peered hard at her, wanting her more. She was a vision of all things innocent and carnal. Her hair cascaded in wild disarray about her face and shoulders, her pink lips were full and swollen from his kiss, her silvery eyes dark with desire, her breasts,
Jesu!
How his hands ached to caress them, rising and falling in quick shallow gasps.

“Arian …”

 

She shook her head, ducked under his arms, and pushed open the heavy door before slamming it soundly in his face.

He stared at it for long moments, while conflicting emotions crashed in his head.
“Jesu!”
What was wrong with him? He swore to her and himself he was done, but just the thought of her had him crawling back like a whipped dog to his master.

“Bah!” he said, throwing up his hands. She was just a woman, one of thousands. He would find refuge in more willing thighs.

He strode angrily to his chamber down the hall from hers, to the guard there. “See to the lady’s door!” he bit off, flung open the door, then slammed it shut. He flung the bolt and stripped naked.

For more candle notches than not he lay naked on his back with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, painfully aroused. His frustration and worry over his brothers, his disgust at himself for allowing them to be captured, wrangled in a wild tussle with his lust for the woman beyond the stone walls of his chamber.

He made to roll over but the pressure on his thigh was too much. When he flung himself onto his back, his cock slapped against the smooth linens. He groaned louder, gritting his teeth, resisting the urge to relieve the pain in his groin. He wanted her gone, married to the Viking, away from his sight. Away from his senses. Away from his thoughts. Then she could be forgotten.

But the vision of her golden thighs and plump breasts toyed with him. He could almost feel her soft fragrant skin beneath his rough fingertips. He wanted to press his lips between her thighs and taste her honeyed sweetness. He wanted—
God’s blood!
If it were his choice, he would ease himself between those golden thighs and end the craving of his body for hers.

He bit down on his jaw so hard he feared his teeth would crack. At his limit, he squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed that demon between his thighs.
FOURTEEN

Arian spent the next two days under heavy guard. At every turn, she was met with a wide mailed chest and a scowling Saxon. She was permitted freedom in her chamber, the hall, and, under very heavy guard, the courtyard for a stroll. She seemed to be quite an oddity amongst the churls. Each time she stepped outside the hall, they would gather in small groups and stare at her. Several attempts to bribe servants to aide her in her escape were discovered. Her punishment? She was forbidden to speak to all servants save Annis. Arian could not put her anger and frustration into words, so volatile was she. She felt like the caged tiger she had once seen when a traveling circus passed through Dinefwr many years ago. The animal paced the small barred cage, growling at any person who ventured too close. Even his master stayed clear of the sharp teeth and claws.

And try as she might to engage the lady of the manor and her sister Lady Brighid in conversation, they tried just as hard to avoid her. ’Twas only at mealtimes they were forced to converse, and she found them most unwilling to offer a word. But even more than their reticence, Arian found Stefan’s distance most annoying. Nay more than annoying. ’Twas unbearable. He was her only familiar in this hostile land. By nature she was a social creature, craving interaction. She watched him move about, clad in noble garb, his limp nearly gone, his face healing. He cut a most handsome figure. But there was a haughty reserve about him that intrigued her more than his handsome face and powerful body. He did not commingle with his countrymen, he did not chatter nor did he partake in games of chess or dice. He kept mostly to himself, his brilliant eyes sharp and observant.