Stroke of Midnight (12 page)

CHAPTER 9

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Lifting his head, Reyes sniffed the air, sorting Shanara's scent from the hundreds of others that assailed him—the scent of damp earth and trees and rotting foliage. He detected the fear rising from rabbits and mice and other small creatures that cowered in their dens and holes, hiding from the fierce predator that stalked the night.

He howled as he honed in on Shanara's scent, growled when her spoor led him to a wolf trap. Anger twisted through him. Fearful that he might accidentally stumble into one of the pits some dark night, he had long ago declared that all such traps be filled in.

Hackles raised, he padded closer to the edge of the pit. In spite of the depth and the darkness, he had no trouble seeing the bottom of the chasm, or the woman who crouched there, looking up at him through frightened green eyes.

Giving what he hoped was a reassuring bark, Reyes backed away from the edge of the pit. Sitting on his haunches, he closed his eyes and pictured his human image in his mind, visualizing the transformation. He howled in protest as his body began to change, the man overtaking the wolf, humanity overtaking the wildness.

When the change was complete, he crawled back to the pit and peered over the side. "Shanara?"

"Reyes!"

"I will have you out of there soon."

Rising, he cast around for something he could use to pull her out of the pit. Spying several long vines, he twisted them together, then tossed one end over the side.

"Catch hold," he said. "I will pull you up."

Moments later, she was standing beside him brushing dirt from her gown and her hands. "How did you find me?"

"I followed your scent. There was a man with you. Where is he?"

She shook her head. "I know not. He dumped me in the pit and…" She shrugged.

"And Alyce?" he asked curtly. "What part did she have in all this?"

Shanara stared at him, mute.

"Answer me!"

"She said she would help me get back to my father."

Reyes swore a vile oath. He would kill Alyce for this, and Ragan as well!

He blew out a deep breath, then took Shanara's hand. "Is the thought of being my bride so repulsive to you that you would rather risk death than take your vows?"

She looked up at him, not knowing what to say, afraid to admit to him, or to herself, the depths of her feelings for him, feelings she could not begin to understand. No matter how hard she tried to hate him, no matter how often she reminded herself that he was her enemy, she could not hate him.

She gasped as he drew her into his arms. She placed her hands on his chest, intending to push him away. Only then did she remember that he was naked. The warmth of his body quickly penetrated her clothing, the heat in his eyes seared her soul.

"Shanara…" His hand brushed her cheek, slid down her back to cup her buttocks, drawing her closer, letting her feel the visible evidence of his desire.

"Please, do not…"

"What?" he asked gruffly. "Do not touch you? Do not kiss you…" His gaze moved over her face. "How can I resist? Your hair is like silk beneath my hands. Your skin smells of lavender. Your body is a temptation no man could resist. Shanara… accept your fate and be my bride."

In her heart, it was what she wanted, but how could she wed him now, when she knew about the curse that awaited his offspring?

His hands caressed her and then, murmuring an oath, he lowered his head and kissed her.

For the space of a heartbeat, she resisted. And then, with a sigh, she surrendered to her heart's desire. Slipping her arms around his neck, she closed her eyes and returned his kiss, reveling in the pleasure that flowed through her, the excitement that fluttered deep in the core of her being, urging her to give him everything he wanted, to surrender everything his body and her own heart were urging her to give.

Her hand slid down his back, exploring the deep vee between his shoulder blades, the indentation of his lean waist.

He groaned softly and then, with a cry that was almost a growl, he gently pushed her away.

She blinked up at him, her whole body aching and on fire for his touch.

"Not now," he said tersely. "Not here. I will not take you like a wild beast in heat." Tenderly, he drew her back into his arms. "When I take you, it will not be in the dirt, but upon silk sheets. And you shall be my bride."

He gazed deep into her eyes, wondering at his sudden change of heart. Only days ago, he had vowed never to marry. Now he was equally determined to make Shanara his woman, in name only if nothing else. Right or wrong, he could not let her go. Should Montiori arrive on the morrow to take his daughter's place, Reyes knew he would turn his enemy away rather than lose the woman in his arms.

It was near morning when they reached the keep. He quickly retrieved his trousers, then headed for the kitchen door. Under other circumstances, he would have taken the secret passage to his chamber, but he didn't want Shanara to know of its existence. By a stroke of luck, they met no one when they entered the castle. Reyes saw Shanara to her room. Inside, he searched for anything she might find useful should she try to escape. He confiscated the knife from her dinner tray, kissed her long and hard, then locked her in her room.

Going to his own chambers, he rang for Rolf and ordered baths to be drawn for himself and Shanara, then added that he wanted a morning meal for two sent to his room in an hour.

Rolf was about to leave the room when Reyes called to him.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Where is Alyce?"

"Belowstairs, my lord."

"Send her to me immediately."

With a nod, Rolf went to carry out his lord's bidding. Reyes paced the floor, his anger building with each step he took. He was in a fine rage when she knocked on his door. "Enter."

She stepped into his room, a smile of anticipation on her face. "You summoned me, my lord?"

"Shut the door."

She did as he asked, her smile not quite so bright when she faced him again.

"Why did you do it?" He held up his hand when she started to speak. "Do not lie to me, Alyce. I know what you did. What I want to know now is why? What did you hope to gain by murdering my future bride?"

She stared at him, her face pale, her lower lip quivering. "My lord, I didn't know… I…"

"Go on."

"Forgive me, my lord! Please, be merciful. It was only that I love you so much! She said she wanted to return to her father…"

"And you were going to help her?"

"Yes, my lord. I thought if she returned to her father, you might… that is, that we—"

"So you had Ragan throw her into a pit?"

"How did you… ?" She bit down on her lower lip as she realized she had given herself away.

"You tried to kill Shanara because you love me?" he asked incredulously. He had known the maid was infatuated with him, but love?

Alyce looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

Whether she loved him or not, there was no excuse for what she had done. And she had not done it alone. Her accomplice was somewhere within the keep.

"I want you out of the keep by nightfall."

With a sob, she threw herself at his feet, her arms wrapping around his ankles. "No! Please, not that!"

"Count yourself lucky that I'm letting you keep your head!"

"Where will I go? Please, my lord, let me stay!"

"Go where you will. Be gone from my sight! And take Ragan with you."

Sobbing, she gained her feet and moved woodenly toward the door. She paused to look back at him, her eyes begging him for mercy. Finding none, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Reyes stared after her. He would have no one within the keep whom he couldn't trust. He held loyalty above all else. To betray someone under his roof was the same as betraying him. Alyce had crossed the line and there was no going back.

Later, after he had bathed and dressed, he summoned Shanara.

She arrived a short time later. She was more beautiful every time he saw her. This morning, she wore a lavender long-sleeved gown. The square neckline revealed a modest amount of golden-brown flesh. Her hair fell over her shoulders, a mass of thick auburn waves that tempted his touch.

He felt his gut clench when he thought of how he had found her in the bottom of the pit. Had he not found her in time, she might have fallen prey to wild beasts, or starved to death.

He took a deep, calming breath, then gestured at the table, now laden with covered dishes. "Sit, Shanara," he invited.

She walked across the room and took a seat at the table. She carried herself like a queen, he thought. Her every movement was regal.

He sat across from her, every fiber of his being aware of her beauty, her nearness. It had been a mistake inviting her to his chambers. She was far too desirable and his bed was far too near at hand for his peace of mind.

He filled her plate with the meal the cook had prepared for them. They ate in silence for a time. Reyes had no interest in food, not with Shanara sitting across from him. All he could think of was carrying Shanara to bed and making slow, sweet love to her, then falling asleep in her arms.

"My lord, you must not stare at me so."

"It displeases you?"

She blushed prettily under his regard. "It is unseemly."

"Unseemly?" he asked, amused. "There is nothing unseemly about a man admiring his bride-to-be."

"I never said I would marry you."

"But you will."

"Nay."

"I will have my way in this, Shanara. Tomorrow, the castle seamstress will attend you. We will be wed on Sunday."

"You said a fortnight!"

"I have changed my mind."

Rising, he rounded the table and drew her into his arms.

"My lord, we must not…"

"Just a kiss," he murmured, lowering his head. "One kiss."

One kiss, she thought, and she was lost. What power did he possess that he could so easily make her want him? All thought of right and wrong, friend or foe, fled her mind as his lips captured hers. Her stomach fluttered at his nearness. Her legs grew weak and she leaned against him, gasping as she felt his arousal. Her body grew warm, her heartbeat erratic.

She moaned softly. It was meant to be a protest. Why then, did it sound like a sigh of pleasure? A distant voice in the back of her mind whispered that she should push him away. Instead, one arm slid around his waist while her other hand slid around his nape to bar his escape.

He broke the kiss for a moment, his eyes looking deep into hers, and then he was kissing her again, his lips moving over hers, his tongue dueling with her own in a way that made her think of their bodies joining together.

"No. We mustn't." It took all her willpower to push him away. She could not surrender her maidenhead, not while there was a chance she might still escape. With her virginity gone, no other man would want her.

"You are a wise woman," he said, his voice raw with desire. "Another moment in my arms and you would not have been a maiden on your wedding day."

She stared up at him, her lips bereft, her body trembling. For a moment, she was tempted to return to his arms, but then she remembered that he was supposed to be her enemy, and that, even worse, he was only marrying her to antagonize her father.

Wordlessly, she opened the door and left the room.

She wasn't surprised to find Rolf waiting for her in the corridor. Silent as a shadow, he followed her down the hallway to her chambers. When she went inside, he closed and locked the door behind her.

CHAPTER 10

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Sitting upon his throne, Lord Montiori looked down at the girl kneeling on the floor before him.

"How do I know Reyes did not send you?" he asked. "Need I remind you that spies are beheaded?"

Alyce looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen. "I am no spy! I cannot prove otherwise, my lord, but I speak the truth. I tried to help your daughter escape from Lord Reyes and he sent me away in disgrace. I came to beg your indulgence, my lord. I have nowhere else to go."

"My daughter is well then?"

"Yes, my lord."

"The finger that Reyes sent me, was it hers?"

"No, my lord."

Montiori grunted softly. "I thought not." He leaned forward. "So, what news have you from Black Dragon Keep? Is Reyes preparing for war? Is he planning to ride against me?"

"No, my lord. He plans to wed."

"Indeed? And what unfortunate woman will bear his accursed young?"

Alyce took a deep breath. "Your daughter. Shanara."

Montiori sprang to his feet. "What?"

"Aye, my lord, 'tis true."

"When is this loathsome deed to take place?"

"Within a fortnight, if kitchen gossip be true."

Descending the dais, Montiori began to pace the floor. "How dare he mingle his foul blood with mine! My daughter, to wed that beast and bear his young! I will not have it!"

Turning, he almost tripped over the girl. "Be gone!" he roared.

"My lord?"

"Go into the kitchens. Tell Grendal to put you to work."

"Yes, my lord," Alyce said, scrambling to her feet. "Thank you, my lord!"

Montiori scarcely heard her. He was bellowing for the captains of his armies.

CHAPTER 11

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For Shanara, the next few days passed in a whirlwind of activity. The dressmaker came, bringing bolts of material in every fabric and color imaginable. It took most of one day for her to choose the color, and when she couldn't decide between pale pink or ice blue, she decided to go with white. She spent most of another day picking out just the right style. Her mood seemed to change from excitement to trepidation and back again from moment to moment.

She saw Reyes each evening. Now, with the moon no longer full, he was more relaxed, and quite charming. Sometimes he took her walking in the gardens in the evening after supper. Sometimes they sat before the hearth listening to the minstrels; other times they were entertained by the court jester, or by wandering jugglers or magicians.

But the best times were when he walked her to her chamber before she retired for the night. There, alone in her room, he wooed her with soft words of love and slow, sweet kisses that made her heart race and her toes curl.

There, alone in the shadowy darkness, she could forget, if only for a little while, that he lived under a curse that could only be broken by her father's witch.

Melena, Shanara mused. She was the answer. The witch had ever been kind to her. If she could find a way to speak to Melena or to send her a message, perhaps she could convince the witch to break the curse.

But no opportunity arose and then, all too soon, her wedding day was upon her.

Shanara stood in the middle of her chamber while Beatrice brushed her hair until it shone. The maid drew the sides back with a pair of jeweled combs, leaving the rest of Shanara's hair to fall down her back in an artless mass of thick auburn waves.

Next, Beatrice helped Shanara into her wedding dress, then arranged her veil with its floor-length train.

"Ah, my lady," Beatrice exclaimed, taking a step back. "You look as beautiful as a princess in a fairy tale."

"Thank you," Shanara murmured. She ran her hands over her gown, loving the feel of the gossamer material beneath her fingertips. Made of the finest white on white silk, it was an exquisite creation, so light it might have been made of angels' wings. She couldn't help wondering what Reyes would think when he saw her. Would he be pleased? Would he think his coin well spent?

A knock at the door sent her heart to fluttering. "I cannot do this," she whispered. "I cannot!"

"Now, now," Beatrice said cheerfully, " 'tis only a bad case of nerves, common to all brides on their wedding day."

It was more than mere nerves, Shanara thought. If her husband-to-be had been an ordinary man, she would have been eager to wed him and bed him, but Reyes was not an ordinary man.

Beatrice opened the door and Rolf entered the chamber. He smiled at Shanara. "Your bridegroom awaits," he said.

She wanted to tell Beatrice and Rolf that the wedding was off, that she could not marry Reyes tonight, or any other night, but the words would not come.

As if caught in a trance, Shanara allowed Rolf to take her hand and lead her down the staircase to the small chapel located within the keep. Rolf paused at the door, giving her a chance to peruse her surroundings. There were flowers everywhere, some in white wicker baskets, some in tall glass vases, others in colorful pots. Tall white tapers cast shadows on the walls.

There were no guests other than two of Reyes's most trusted knights who would serve as witnesses.

Shanara felt her breath catch in her throat when she saw Reyes. He stood in front of the altar next to the priest. For once, Reyes had eschewed black. Instead, he wore buff-colored trousers, a white shirt open at the throat, a dark green jerkin trimmed in black velvet, and a pair of soft leather boots.

His gaze settled on her face, the force of it sending a shiver of excitement to the very deepest part of her being.

Rolf gave a gentle tug on her hand. She took a step forward, her gaze locked with that of the man who was going to be her husband. By the time she reached the altar, her heart was pounding so loudly she was surprised the priest could not hear it.

A rush of heat flowed into her fingers and up her arm when Rolf placed her hand in that of his lord. Bowing his head, Rolf took a step back, then sat in the front pew.

The priest looked at Shanara and then at Reyes. "Are you ready, my children?"

"Yes, Father," Reyes said. He smiled at Shanara, then squeezed her hand.

She tried, but she could not summon a smile. What would he do when she refused to be his bride? Would he send her back to the dungeon, or fulfill his vow to send her back to her father a piece at a time?

She felt an unexpected warmth in the region of her heart when Reyes vowed to love, honor, and protect her so long as he lived.

And then the priest settled his somber gaze on her face. She could scarcely breathe as he put the question to her.

"Do you, Shanara Montiori, take Alexandar Reyes to be your husband from this day forward? Will you love and honor him so long as you both shall live?"

Her heart was beating so fast she feared she might faint. She took a deep, calming breath and then, to her utter amazement, she whispered, "I do."

The priest smiled for the first time. "Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. What the Lord God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Lord Reyes, you may kiss your bride."

She trembled as Reyes put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Lifting her veil, he drew her into his embrace. For a moment, he gazed down at her, his expression enigmatic, and then he kissed her.

Her eyelids fluttered down at the touch of his lips on hers and she forgot everything else, everything but the aching sweetness of his kiss, the faint tremor in the arms that held her. Was it possible that he was as nervous as she?

She blinked up at him when he broke the kiss. Glancing around, she felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks when she saw the indulgent smiles on the faces of the priest and the knights.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she started to pull away from Reyes, but his arm around her waist kept her close to his side.

He thanked the priest, Rolf and his knights, then led her out of the chapel and up the stairs to his bedchamber. The maids had laid a fire, there were candles burning on the mantel and in wrought-iron sconces on the walls. Bowls of flowers filled the room with a sweet fragrance. Someone had sprinkled flower petals across the floor and over the bed. A plate of bread and cheese and a bottle of wine awaited them on the table.

When he closed the door, she was trembling so badly that, had it not been for Reyes's arm around her waist, she feared she might have collapsed in a pool of silk at his feet.

"Does the room please you?" he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak for the pounding of her heart, the lump in her throat. She was his wife now, subject to his whim and will. If she cried out for help, no one would come to her aid. She belonged to him, the same as his horse and his sword. He could lock her up for the rest of her life. He could beat her, starve her, order her to spend the rest of her days in a convent, and she would have no recourse but to accept his will, whatever it might be.

He frowned at her. "Is something amiss?"

She shook her head, her eyes widening as his fingertips stroked her cheek.

"Are you afraid of me now?"

She shivered as his fingers traveled down the length of her neck, then, ever so slowly, skimmed the curve of her breast.

"I will not hurt you, wife," he said quietly and then, as if to prove his words, he kissed her gently, tenderly. His mouth was warm on hers, demanding nothing, asking everything.

And because she could not resist his kiss any more than she could cease to breathe, she kissed him back, a long slow kiss that brought all her senses vibrantly alive. Caught up in his kiss, she was scarcely aware that he was undressing her until she stood before him clad in nothing more than her shoes and her petticoat.

She looked up at him, mute, as he knelt before her to remove her shoes, then unfastened the ties of her petticoat and let it fall to the floor.

In the way of maidens since time began, she crossed her arms over her breasts.

Reyes shook his head. "Do not hide your beauty from me, my Shanara," he said, his voice husky with desire.

Biting down on a corner of her lip, she slowly lowered her arms, felt herself blush from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head as his hungry gaze moved over her.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "More beautiful than anything I have ever seen."

Drawing her into his arms once more, he showered her with kisses, his lips like fire as they slid over her breasts and belly, then returned to her lips to drink deeply.

Desire was an ache deep inside, a longing so intense it was painful. She moaned softly, all thought of resistance melting away like morning dew. She wanted him. There was no doubt that he wanted her. Why didn't he carry her to bed?

He kissed her again, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth and then, abruptly, he let her go.

"Sweet dreams, my lady wife," he said hoarsely, and he was gone.

She stared after him, unable to believe he had left her alone on her wedding night, or that his going could hurt so much.

Unable to believe that, in spite of everything, she had fallen in love with her father's sworn enemy.

Reyes stood in the darkness, staring up at the window of his bedchamber. Leaving his bride had been the most difficult thing he had ever done, but to stay would have been madness. No matter how desperately he wanted to make love to her, no matter that his entire body ached with the need to possess her, he could not bring himself to bed her, could not condemn any son she might conceive to endure the kind of life he now lived.

Hands clenched at his sides, he paced back and forth beneath the window, his mind filling with images of Shanara's delectable body. Her skin was creamy smooth, unblemished by wart or mole. Her body was lush, neither too plump nor too thin. His body hardened anew at the thought of hers. He groaned low in his throat as he imagined carrying her to his bed, burying himself deep within her warmth, making love to her all through the night, waking in her arms.

Taking shelter behind a bush, he summoned the wolf within him. Muttering an oath, he tore off his clothes, a howl of pain and frustration rising in his throat as his body transformed. With a last look at his chamber window, he ran away from the keep, away from the temptation that was growing ever harder to resist.

He loped through the darkness, finding a measure of solace in the touch of the wind in his face, the feel of damp earth beneath the sensitive pads of his feet. He ran for miles, effortlessly, mindlessly, ran until weariness overtook him and he flopped down on the ground, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, his sides heaving.

When his breathing calmed again, he lifted his head and howled at the moon, howled in rage and frustration because even here, miles and miles from Black Dragon Castle, Shanara's image lingered in his mind, and he knew that no matter how far or how long he ran, he would never be able to run away from the fact that he had fallen in love with the daughter of his sworn enemy.

But he wasn't ready to face that revelation now, or ponder the possibilities and problems. For now, he wanted to run with the wolves.