Master of Craving (22 page)

Several times she found his brooding stare upon her, and when she smiled, he scowled, then stalked off as if she committed a grave offence against his person. ’Twas only when the beautiful Lady Tarian or her guard Gareth approached him that he seemed to relax.

His easy camaraderie with the lady disturbed her on a most basic level, and though she knew the lady’s heart belonged only to her husband, Arian sensed the deep regard she had for Sir Stefan.

The more Stefan stayed away, the more Arian wanted his attention. A word, a soft gesture. Acknowledgment that she was more to him than a pawn in his deadly game.

His Norman cousin Ralph, however, was not so reticent. Nor was his lap dog Sir Philip. At each turn, she found one or both of them lurking nearby. At the lord’s table, one of them always found his way to her, and she detested sharing a trencher with either. Whenever she cast a glance at Stefan, he was otherwise engaged in conversation. Yet it seemed whenever Sir Ralph became too familiar, the guard Gareth or, most reluctantly, Stefan would steer the bold Norman away.

So Arian spent endless hours sitting in the bustling hall, her head obediently bent over her embroidery, her eyes and ears open and ever vigilant, hoping for an opportunity to slip quietly from the hall and make her escape.

As it happened, on the third morning Arian found herself quite alone in the hall after the noon meal. From beneath her lashes she saw that the main doors to the hall were crowded with churls and knights. She cast her gaze toward the small alcove off the hall and frowned. More men. She was not as alone as she thought. Her frustration wore hard on her nerves. Stefan’s avoidance and his reluctance to discuss the terms of her release frustrated her beyond reason. She had a right to know her fate! She had a right to expect something,
anything,
from him in the way of news. He would not tell her even if a messenger had been sent after Cadoc.

She stood from the chair she sat in and tossed her sampler into the fire. As the flames gobbled it up, she turned to the stairway and looked up. She would go to Stefan’s chamber, await his return, then demand he disclose his plans to her. But as she pushed the heavy door open, she realized she had no leverage. What could she threaten him with? His life? Hers? Take Lady Brighid as a hostage and threaten her bodily harm should he not release her? Arian laughed at the absurdity. She could no more inflict pain on the girl than take her own life, and Stefan knew it.

The moment she entered the room, his manly scent engulfed her. The strength of it halted her in her tracks.

Even gone from the room, Stefan dominated it. Quietly she closed the door and leaned her back against it. Closing her eyes, she stood still, allowing his essence to fill her. Sandalwood mingled with leather, and then there was his unique scent she could never, as long as she lived, forget. It haunted her in her dreams, it called to her now. Her limbs warmed, and her nipples tightened with just the merest image of him in her mind.

Arian’s belly slowly tumbled. Her life was in the hands of a single Norman. What would he demand for her return? Land? Gold? A title? Had he dispatched a rider to locate Cadoc? A messenger to her father? What of Magnus? Would he demand riches from him as well? Was she truly just a means to accumulate a fortune?

Stefan was a man without possessions, a man without a name; of course he would use her to gain what he so desperately wanted. ’Twould raise his byblow status. All of his careful tending of her when she raged with fever was not because he cared for her, but to secure his future! Thoughts tumbled wildly in her head, and Arian realized at that exact moment she had created a rosy image of the man who gave no thought for her but only for himself. She was a fool to soften for him as she had!

Angrily she moved to the middle of the room, wondering what she would say to him once confronted. He did not care for her, she had no leverage. Why did she bother?
Because,
a small but defiant voice said from the very depths of her soul,
he is a man like no other, and you cannot stay away.

Arian inhaled sharply, then slowly exhaled. A noise, then a deep voice from the hall startled her. Stefan! She turned to face him, but another voice caught her attention. Lady Tarian! What would she think of her—a princess awaiting a bastard Norman in his chamber? Panic overcame her. But just as quickly it flew. ’Twas a perfect opportunity! She would hide and listen, and learn.

After a quick scan of the room, she saw that there was no place to hide! The bed was too low to the ground. There was no furniture to hide behind. She darted to the tapestry hanging on the wall and slipped behind it, praying neither would look down and see her silkslippered feet.

The door opened. “Tarian, this is not necessary. I can see to the stitches myself!”

 

“Hush and drop your chauses.”

 

“ ’Tis not decent!”

 

“Then you should have allowed Edie the chore.”

 

“That old woman prattles on and I have no patience for it.”

 

“Sit, then, and let me do it.”

 

Arian heard a grunt of resignation, followed by the sound of Stefan moving about the room.

 

Lady Tarian snickered and said, “Would you have me call your princess? Would that get you undressed any faster?”

 

“She is not
my
princess!”

 

“So you keep saying.”

 

“I may be many things, milady, but I am not a man to dishonor a lady betrothed.”

 

“But if she were not?”

 

Arian held her breath and waited a long moment for Stefan’s response. “A dalliance at most. You know I have no yearning for more.”

 

His words stung. Did he think so little of her?

 

“Wulfson thought the same thing, and look at him now? Heavy with the chains of matrimony dragging down his every step.”

 

“Milady, please would you cease this talk? I have no yearning for a wife.”

 

“Not even one with hides of green pastures for your horses?”

 

He chuckled low. “Now, with that as part of the package, I may be persuaded to take on that yoke.”

 

“Ah, so your true heart’s desire rests with the destriers?”

 

“Aye, and in that the princess will see my dream come true. With the money I will demand from her husband and her sire, I will purchase my land.”

The sound of him unhitching his sword belt, followed by another grunt as he no doubt untied his legging, then the sound of him sitting on the bench not more than one pace from her, caused Arian’s heart to beat so hard in her chest her noon meal churned in her belly.

“It has knitted nicely. How does it feel?”

 

“Still sore but strong.”

 

The scrape of the stool was so close, Arian feared to breathe lest she be heard. “You will only feel a pinch or two.”

 

“Just be done with it. I plan to ride to Dunloc today and offer more gold for word of Rhys.”

 

“Aye, Brighid is beside herself with worry.”

 

“ ’Tis for naught. He will not wed her.”

 

“Why do you say such a thing, Stefan?”

 

“He has nothing to offer. He is young still. By the time his fortune is made, she will be long married to a noble, with a half score of children.”

 

“My foster father would never allow it, even if Rhys came with a title.”

 

“Aye, ’tis the lot of a bastard is it not?”

 

“What of you, Stefan? What plans do you have?”

 

“Once the Blood Swords are delivered, I await my king’s command.”

 

A heavy sigh permeated the room. “Do you tire of warring?”

 

“Nay, ’tis my calling.”

 

“Wulfson is the same.”

 

“We all are, Tarian. It is as much a part of us as the scars we bear.”

 

Another pensive sigh fluttered through the quiet of the room. Arian held her breath, afraid to breathe.

 

“There, ’tis done. The ones in your face can come out in a few days’ time.”

 

The creaking sound of the bench as it was relieved of Stefan’s weight cued her to his movement. “My thanks, milady.”

 

“You are most welcome, sir knight. I will take my leave, and if you have no objection I would ride to Dunloc with you.”

“I take that knave of a cousin with me, and his constant shadow Philip. It would please me if you stayed here and kept watch. My hostage will bolt at first chance, and she is the key to all of our futures.”

“Aye, I will see she does not fly.”

 

Arian’s blood fairly boiled, so angry was she. How dare he speak of her so casually after all they had shared?

The sound of the door opening startled her from her thoughts. And as the door slammed shut her heart hardened. She would find a way to escape this place, and in so doing take the arrogant knight’s hopes and dreams with her. She was no mewing lovelorn maid. Nay, she was Princess Arianrhod, daughter of Hylcon, and she would no longer stand to be treated with anything less than her due!

She flung the tapestry, from her and strode into the room, then abruptly stopped. Stefan stood glaring at her from the threshold.

“Did you find what you were looking for, princess?” he casually asked. But his eyes were narrowed and sharp, belying the tone. She strode toward him and slapped him with all her might on his wounded cheek. He did not so much as flinch. She raised her hand to slap him again, but this time he caught her before she could do more damage.

He yanked her hard against his chest. “Did you not like what you heard?”

 

“You are not fit to feed the swine much less touch my person! Release me now, you blackhearted bastard!”

He did not. He pushed her hard against the wall, his fingers digging deep into her hair, disrupting the intricate braidwork. “I was good enough to save your virtue not once but twice. I was good enough to save your life, but because you cannot stand the truth, I am now not good enough to touch you?”

“I hate you!”

 

He laughed and lowered his head. “Do you really?” he mocked.

 

“With my heart and soul.” “Prove it.” Then his lips crushed against hers and Arian realized he would know she lied.
FIFTEEN

Though she fought him, Stefan felt her body soften. The soft rush of her breath against his cheek when he raked his lips down the smooth column of her throat to the bend of her neck and shoulder. The way her breasts plumpened beneath his hands. The breathless moan of a woman whose body wanted more than a token caress.

His body swelled in response, his cock thickened, his breaths as hard and forced as hers. Sliding his hand down her waist to her hips, he pressed into her, and she did not resist. Heat flared in his loins, desire slammed through him like a sword. He would go mad if he did not have all of her.

In handfuls, he pulled up her kirtle and chemise beneath it. When his rough hand pressed to the silky smoothness of her thigh, they both moaned. His lips broke from hers, their breaths hot and moist. He opened his eyes and his heart leapt into his throat. Her silvery eyes blazed molten. He slid his hand up higher, his gaze never breaking hers. He could feel the sultry moistness of her, waiting, wanting.

He had gone too far, lured too deep into her seductive waters, but he could not stop himself. Arian pressed her hips against him and Stefan groaned. Unable to control himself he brushed his fingertips across her moist lips.

Arian’s lips parted when she gasped, her eyes closed, the vision of her submission spurred him. Stefan closed his eyes, savoring the moment, and sank a finger gently into her. He felt the air leave her body as she melted into him. He pulled her tighter against him, and his lips found hers. In a slow circular slide, he moved his finger in and out of her hot wetness. In wicked undulation, her hips followed him.

She grasped his shoulders and pressed closer to him, but he resisted pressing all the way into her. His lips broke from hers, and he fought the battle of his life when he resisted untying his braies and sinking his cock deep into her. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Stefan.” She gasped for breath. “My body aches as if a fever consumes me.”

 

He pulled her close and withdrew his finger from her.

 

“Nay,” she cried out.

He smiled down at her but did not release her completely. Nay, he could not. He brushed his fingertips across her stiffened mound. Arian gasped again, wide-eyed, in wonder. He swallowed hard. “There is more than one way to bring the body to release, Arian,” he whispered into her ear. He pressed more firmly against her and moved his fingers in a steady quick fashion. He clenched his jaw as her wetness increased and her body tightened.

He kissed her parted lips, his tongue swirling against hers as a hard wave of passion overcame them both. She cried out, but his kisses silenced it for his ears only. Her body spasmed and jerked and he felt her go liquid in his hand. Slow and easy he rode out her release with his fingers, and when she was done he felt her knees weaken. He scooped her up into his arms, her limp body hanging, her chest rising and falling in a quick staccato, her eyes closed.

The sight of her stirred something deep and primal; but more than that, a wild possessiveness rose in his heart. When her eyes fluttered open and he saw the raw desire still lingering, he moved her to the bench, gently sat her down, then moved away from her.

He turned halfway to the door but an invisible string yanked him back. She half-reclined on the low bench, her face flushed, lips full and parted, her clothing disheveled. He set his jaw, fighting the devil in him that wanted to finish what he had started.

“Do not come near me again, Arian, for I cannot promise that I can resist my desire for you the next time.” He turned and moved as quickly from the room as his legs would carry him.

Once at the end of the narrow hallway, Stefan stopped to collect himself. His body burned, his heart thudded like a smith’s hammer in his chest, and his mind raced crazy with wild reckless thoughts of carrying her off to a secret place and making love to her until the world forgot about them both. He threw his head back, clenching his hands so tightly his nails bit into his skin, fighting the urge to yell out his frustration to the world.