The Dark Lady (40 page)

He walked carefully toward the door and then was sure he heard several graphic curse words. It was definitely Vanessa’s voice. His brow furrowed in concentration. Her voice was sometimes sweet, sometimes low and angry, but now there was a different tone to it. It lacked the high pitched squeal, which he had begun to believe was false. Now he was sure of it.

Peter entered the chamber, but it was empty. He strode to the window and looked down, watching her fight to pull herself up. He grinned down at her, impressed at the skill with which she scaled the twisting and thorn covered vines.

The vine she was holding gave way suddenly. Vanessa cursed and Peter’s heart lurched, balling into his throat and cutting off his breath. He was sure she was going to land broken and battered in the garden below. He gripped painfully at the window ledge, the hard rock digging into his flesh.

He stood helpless as she slid down the wall. She cursed loudly as the vines caught at her face and hair. She managed to catch herself and Peter took a deep shuddering breath as relief surged through him.

She began to climb once more. She pulled only slightly with her gown and he was amazed that it did not catch and tear on the vines. But it seemed to move fluidly with her.

“
Greetings, my lady.”

Vanessa jumped and almost lost her grip on the wall once more. His breath caught in his throat.

She looked up. The vines had left a green and black smudge down one side of her face. A trickle of blood ran across her cheek. Dirt, sweat, and grime covered her face, but the powder was gone.

More than likely, he thought, sweat had washed it away. He wondered if she was aware that her mask was missing. He grinned, thinking that she was not.

Her brilliant smile, full of pure joy, took his breath away. He smiled. “Do you need some help?” He was no longer angry, just relieved she had not run and that she had not fallen. “I am surprised that gown has not tangled on you, though I shudder to think of anyone in the garden, what a sight they would enjoy.”

“
Very humorous. Nay, I need no help.” Vanessa laughed. “I have my dress well in hand, I will be right up.” The dress caught on several thorns, but she dispatched it easily enough, and made her way quickly up the wall.

Peter held his breath until she was within an arm’s reach. He leaned through the window and grasped both of her wrists drawing her roughly through the small opening.

He pulled harder than necessary. Her weight suddenly came through the window and pushed him off balance. She fell painfully on top of him, knocking out his breath.

James and Devon rushed forward to assist him. Peter just waved them away, gathering the large, laughing woman tighter in his arms.

“
Close the door on your way out,” Peter ordered without looking at them.

He opened his mouth to lecture her on putting herself in danger, and for disobeying him, and was stunned into silence when she placed her warm soft lips against his. With a deep and insistent kiss, she pressed herself forcibly against him.

She pulled away only long enough to pull her gown over her head and to remove his shirt. She leaned down against him. A moan of pleasure escaped him at the feel of her hardened, erect nipples brushing through the tight curls on his chest.

She caressed his chest, kissing his cheeks, his chin, and his neck as her hand roamed lower. A shaky groan escaped him as her hand first released him from his braies and hose and then caressed the entire length of him.

He did not think he would survive this sweet torture. He thought to roll her over. He pulled her hips up and gasped in pleasure and surprise when she pressed them back down. His hardened shaft slid into her hot sweet moistness.

He shuddered, grasping her, driving deeply. She arched her back, taking him fully. As her breasts swayed over him he found he liked a woman of the same height. She was a perfect match. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down to him, taking first one breast and then the other into his hungry mouth.

It took only a few moments before his hands were back on her hips, guiding her, up and down. Sitting up straight she allowed him to control the speed.

Her eyes were closed, her long fingers digging into the flesh of his chest. Sweet joy lit her face. Her breathing came in deep gasps, her lips parting to allow the sounds of the building pleasure to escape.

The look of need on her face excited him beyond the limits of his control. His fingers dug into her hips. He lifted her off him and pulled her back down as he thrust his hips forcefully up to meet her. Up and down she slid against the length of him. He pounded deeply into her. Her breathing increased and her moans became louder.

Pain lingered in his chest as her nails clawed at him in her pleasure. He increased his tempo. His breathing became a painful, searing burn deep in his throat. His eyes closed, his head fell back. He arched his spine and called her name as he spilled his seed deep inside her.

His throat ached and his heart was racing. He opened his eyes and looked up at Vanessa. Shivers ran through her as she rocked her hips gently.

Knowing that she had not come to pleasure, he rolled her over and, without pulling out, slid on top her. He ran his hand across her breast and caressed an erect nipple. He continued his exploration down her flat stomach and through the patch of hair between her toned thighs.

He propped himself up on his elbow and watched her dark, tanned face as he manipulated her wet, warm flesh. Her lips quivered and her head rocked back.

Her fingers gripped his shoulders tightly. She closed her eyes, her breath coming in short quick gasps as his fingers moved faster.

He looked carefully at her familiar face and wondered again why she insisted on wearing so much powder. From what he could see she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Sweat glistened on the dark tanned skin. He enjoyed watching her without the presence of the powder he had come to loath. Even with the dirt and grime on the one side of her face she was beautiful.

His fingers moved faster across her swollen flesh and darted within her warm passage. Vanessa moaned deep within her throat and rocked her hips to match his movements.

He smiled down at her as she cried out, lost in passion. It echoed across the tapestries in the room as the warmth of her pleasure spilled around his fingers.

Peter slowly got to his feet. His words were breathy as he spoke. “I will send up a bath. You can wash up before supper.” He smiled, thinking it wouldn’t be too bad to be with Vanessa for a lifetime. She lay sprawled across the rug. Her firm body sparkled with sweat. His groin tightened in response and he smiled contentedly.

Peter began to turn away and Vanessa reached up and stayed him with a touch to his arm. He looked backed down at her in surprise. She lowered her eyes for a moment and then taking a deep breath stared up at him.

Nervousness teased Van like a bully from her past. She felt once again like a lowly page. She hadn’t felt like that since she was eight. Peter affected her in ways no one else ever had.

He looked down at her expectantly, but did not say a word.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to speak. “My lord, may I speak to you a moment. I have a request.”

“
Aye, come and sit by the fire.” He pulled her to her feet and led her to the matching chairs that sat before the cold fireplace. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and pushed her gently into one of the chairs.

Apprehension tensed her muscles. She twisted her neck from side to side hearing the customary and satisfying pop.

Peter wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and pulled his chair closer to her. Their knees touched when he sat down.

A hot jolt of pleasure shot through her legs and settled in her stomach, leaving in its wake a warmness that calmed her taut nerves.

Peter placed his hand against her arm. “What is it?”

She trembled slightly and looked into his deep blue eyes. “I am not sure how to ask this.”

He smiled warmly. “Just ask.”

She nodded. “What do you know of me?”

Peter’s head tilted slightly and his brow furrowed. “I know a little. Is there something in particular that you are asking?”

She smiled weakly. “I know my father and yours were friends. Did you see anything of me as a child?” She prayed his answer was no.

Her mother’s story was that she had left the night Van was born. Her father’s was different. He had told her that she was with him until she was one. She did not want to learn that her mother had lied to her, but she needed to know the truth.

“
Aye, I saw you. You were as much a handful then as you are now. Screamed and kicked. You were indeed a hellion.” He grinned at her playfully. “I remember well that I was the only one who could calm you when your mood was particularly foul.”

Her eyes darted to his and she could feel the heat of embarrassment color her face. She cleared her throat and tried not to think of how much she had loved him when she was a page in training.

“
What do you remember or what has my father told you?” She didn’t want to know. She wanted nothing more than to stop this line of questioning and not betray her mother’s memory, but honor insisted that she ask. If her father was not the man she thought he was, then she had to know.

“
Well,” Peter relaxed back against the chair and considered her for a moment. Then he smiled and her heart fluttered within her.

“
I was twelve when you were born. My father and I sat with Matthew the entire night as he paced the floor, while you were being birthed.” Peter leaned forward and caught her gaze.

She stared into his blue eyes and was unable to look away.

He was unsure of what to tell her and did not like the pained look in her eyes. He did not like the uncertainty that he saw or the uncertainty that he felt. “He was very proud. I even helped look for you after your mo—after you were gone.” Grasping her hands he kissed them. “I think it would be best if your father was the one who told you of your first year.” He watched Van get to her feet, smiling as he noticed she had not removed her slippers.

“
Yes, I shall go to him for a few days. My mother told me she ran because my father wanted to kill me, just for the fact that I was a girl.” She looked down at the empty fireplace and shuddered.

Peter wanted to go to her, but held off. He felt that she needed a moment to gather her thoughts.

Her voice was low when she finally spoke again. “I can live with that, being a girl is not an honor or something to be respected, I understand this. I do not know if I can understand my mother lying to me, making me become a—” She jerked her head up and stared back at him.

He waited patiently and then finally asked. “Become a what? Where have you been for the last nineteen years?” Peter had wondered that since he had agreed to marry her, where she had been, how she had been raised. Now that he had mentioned going to her father he wondered something more.

Were the problems concerning her father the something she had spoken to her stallion about, the something that she had to take care of before she could leave? Once they were settled would she then just disappear?

A sudden heavy pressure gripped his chest. He stood and walked toward her barely resisting the urge to grab her and hold her safely to him.

Her eyes were clouded with questions and doubt. “My mother was a good woman. At least I always thought so. She always did what she had to in order to protect me.” She shrugged. “But if I did not need protecting, than what was it all for? Just so she did not have to go back to him?”

“
From what I remember, she was not a happy woman. She had difficulties with Matthew and his mistress. It is the way of life with men. Your mother was just not able to accept it.”

She looked at him firmly. “I will not be able to accept it either. I will give my loyalty to only one man. I will expect the same from him. I will not compromise on this.”

He smiled. He had no desire to be with another woman, but was unwilling to tell her that outright. Instead, he moved the conversation to something else he had been curious about. She had mentioned several things that made him wonder if she was ashamed of what she was born.

“
You speak badly of being a woman. Is it so bad to be one?” He knew there were some women who were unhappy being female, though they were few and far between. Those women wanted the respect and rights given to a man.

She looked at him for several long seconds as if contemplating exactly what to tell him, or how much. “I have never thought about it. Being a woman does not bother me, but being thought of as a weak woman, a woman with no rights and no honor does. Just because one is born a woman does not mean she cannot do anything that a man can do if given the proper chances.”

“
It does not work that way. A woman is not a strong as a man.” He laughed as she tilted her head at him, looked down at herself, and then back at him. She raised an arrogant black brow and plopped angrily into her chair.

“
Put your beautiful brow down. You are not the typical woman. You are strong, but most women are not.” Peter shook his head. He was surprised that he had admitted that she was strong. She was, but he didn’t like to admit it.

“
That is because most women have not had the opportunity to become the best of what they can be.”