Whispers at Midnight (25 page)

Ryne had taken the brunt of the fall when
the door gave way and was covered from top to bottom with dirt and
dried mud.

“Damn,” he said as they returned to the
shallow water. “I’m muddy as a bloody wallowing boar. I’ll need to
wash before we’re on our way.” He strode out onto a big rock which
jutted from the sandy bank. Rather than stand on the bank alone,
Amanda followed him down and perched herself on the rock a little
distance away. Ryne unfastened the brass buttons at the knees of
his breeches and removed a pair of soggy black clocked
stockings.

That done, he stood and made a shallow dive
into the river and swam out until the water was high on his chest.
As Amanda stepped into her discarded petticoats, she saw him dip
his head under to wash the mud from his hair and face.

While he was washing, Amanda sat on the edge
of the rock and washed the grime from her calves and feet. Out of
the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Ryne swimming toward
her, his body moving expertly and easily through the water. He had
removed his breeches and was turning to rinse the caked mud from
his arms and legs. The dark color of his skin made her suspect it
was not the first time he had swum nude in the river. At the same
moment a loud plop sounded from further out on the rock. She
diverted her eyes reluctantly to that spot, to discover that he had
tossed the wet breeches there.

She tried to keep her eyes away from him but
could not. He, however, seemed to take no notice of her as he swam,
his magnificent body cutting through the water with easy grace and
power. His sinewy limbs coiled and uncoiled as he glided smoothly
into deeper water. Amanda felt a pang of anxiety in her heart when
he disappeared, but remembering he must have swum in the river many
times, felt a little better.

She walked farther out on the rock and
scanned the surface. Ryne’s breeches lay at her feet. She bent down
and picked them up and began wringing out the water.

She smiled. He was truly an incomparable
man, bad-tempered, surly, handsome, rude, and devoted to his
horses. And when he wanted to be, thoughtful, tender and
caring.

Strange. It had warmed her heart the way he
took on about Cavalier, the way he bragged about Libelia. At such
times he seemed to let down a barrier and reveal a softness that
was a surprise in such a hard and generally angry man. This Ryne,
the one who could enjoy exploring a cave and swimming in the river,
she liked so much better.

She was in a dreamy state when she heard
Ryne call her name. He was a good stone’s throw out in the river,
but swimming rapidly toward her. When he was half the distance in,
he stopped and trod water to stay afloat.

“Toss my breeches out, will you?”

Amanda ventured to the farthest promontory
of the rock and gave his breeches a mighty toss, then spun around
quickly so she would not watch him slip them on. But the rock was
wet beneath her feet and in the suddenness of her turn she lost her
balance. Before she could cry out, she was splashing into the deep
water.

Startled and knocked breathless, Amanda came
up sputtering and coughing. She had never learned to swim, but now
she kicked and thrashed her arms wildly, trying to imitate the
motions she had seen Ryne making as he swam so effortlessly.

The rock and safety were only a few feet
away but the water had quickly transformed her light summer dress
and petticoats into a heavy weight that kept trying to drag her
back under the dark, swirling water. She lunged for the rock,
having managed to get a little closer, and tried to gain a hold,
hoping to pull herself out. At last she got a handhold but found
the rock too slippery to hang on to. Her breath coming raggedly,
Amanda managed to stay afloat only by clawing at the rock.

While she was struggling in the water, she
had forgotten Ryne. When she felt his arms around her shoulders she
experienced another round of panic. She gasped. His arm wrapped
tightly around her neck, and suddenly she was horribly conscious
that he was pulling her back, away from the rock. Her mind went
racing in a blind fear. Why was he pulling her into deeper
water?

She struggled and fought frantically to make
him let her go. Water washed over her face. She tried to scream but
only wound up swallowing mouthfuls of water as they both went under
for a moment.

Ryne gripped her tighter and somehow managed
to pin her flailing arms to her sides. Terrified, she continued to
fight him, thinking at any moment she would surely drown and go
floating away with the debris in the treacherous current of the
river. But her panic was short-lived. Soon she could feel the safe,
sandy riverbed beneath her feet. She stopped her struggles as
Ryne’s arms slipped from her shoulders to her waist and he slowly
turned her around to face him.

“Why did you fight me?” he demanded. “You
nearly drowned us both.” His eyes glowed so wild that the pupils
had nearly blacked out the irises. His nostrils flared angrily. She
could see the tautness of the muscles in his shoulders.

Amanda’s lips quivered uncontrollably. She
had thought herself infinitely near to death and she had never ever
been more afraid. She hadn’t trusted Ryne for that moment, and yet
hadn’t she known he would not let her drown? Hadn’t she known?
Suddenly overwrought again, she began to sob and threw her arms
around his neck.

“Hold me,” she whispered as all the sadness
of the ages seemed to descend on her heart. She felt a great
emptiness and longing, and the strength she felt as he obeyed her
request was like a restorative life force. His arms crisscrossed
her back and he pulled her close against him as the river lapped at
their legs. “Closer, please,” she pleaded, burying her head against
his chest and feeling the soft, damp crinkle of hair against her
cheek. “I was so afraid, Ryne. Hold me just a little while.”

“Yes,” he answered softly, petting the long,
wet tangle of curls that tumbled down her back.

He held her, his breathing deep. He had swum
hard to reach her, knowing from the desperate look on her face when
she fell that she could not swim. She had fought him so hard that
for an instant before he felt the riverbed beneath him he had
wondered if they would make it. He felt a measure of hurt with
himself that she had not trusted him when she was in danger. He
felt it more so because he had at times given her reason not
to.

“Shush,” he whispered as her sobbing
continued to shake her. “You are safe, Amanda, safe with me.” His
fingers grazed the line of her chin and smoothed a tear from her
cheek. He pressed her face closer against his skin, enjoying the
cool satin feel of her against his own heated flesh.

Amanda’s arms slipped slowly down from his
shoulders to wrap around his waist. She felt the fear draining from
her and being replaced by a storm of another sort. Slowly she
lifted her face to his.

“I might have drowned,” she said, her tone a
little breathless.

“I would not have let you,” he answered in
his deep caressing voice. “Because then I would have missed holding
you this way, and it feels too very good to have missed.” He
lowered his head as he spoke, until his lips were poised only a few
inches above hers. His hands rested on her shoulders, fingers
fanned across the back of her neck. He bent her head back ever so
slightly.

Ryne shifted his weight a little and Amanda
could feel the movement in the firm muscles of his thighs. She felt
the ache of longing grow inside her.

“Oh, Ryne,” she murmured.

His mouth took hers then, lips joining
gently and starting a disturbance that traveled to the centermost
part of her body. She relaxed against him, feeling her soft curves
melt into the firm, sinewy muscles of his frame. She sighed with
disappointment when he broke the embrace and led her out of the
shallow water. Her dress dragged and dripped, and more than once
Ryne had to catch her when she stumbled. But when they reached the
grassy edge of the riverbank, he stopped and once more his arms
went around her.

“Sweet Amanda,” he whispered as he slowly
reclaimed her lips.

Amanda shivered with cold, but as he
increased the pressure of his kiss she felt a flickering of warmth
all over. She returned his kiss. It felt suddenly right and
wonderful. In the spell of his embrace she did not question her
feelings but lent herself in all completeness to the pleasure of
his lips on her mouth.

It was beyond ecstasy the way his tongue
stroked the sensitive, soft curves, caressing and teasing until she
opened for him and he began the same delicate strokes on the inner
surface of her mouth.

Hesitantly she followed his lead and probed
the sensuous line of his lips with her tongue, tasting and enjoying
the sweetness of his mouth with a strange new hunger that could not
be sated. His kiss seared her lips and burned the drifting thoughts
from her mind until she thought and felt nothing but the white-hot
heat of his nearness.

Ryne, hands plying the soft flesh of her
back, trailed kisses to her throat and to the gentle curve of her
shoulder. Her still-damp skin was intoxicatingly fragrant and silky
smooth beneath his mobile fingers. An involuntary moan escaping his
lips, he pushed the crumpled wet sleeves of her gown from her
shoulders and covered the newly exposed flesh with warm kisses.

Amanda whispered his name as his nimble
fingers loosened the laces at the back of her bodice. Within
moments he had unfastened the garment and slipped her arms free of
it.

The setting sun cast an amber glow on her
pale, smooth skin and gave a golden sheen to the soft orbs of her
breasts. Ryne drew his breath in raggedly at the delectable sight
he had uncovered. Wantonly his hands found and loosened the ties
that held the waistband of her skirts. The garments dropped to a
tousled mound around her feet and in one quick movement she stepped
free of them.

“Let me see you,” he whispered, his voice
harsh with passion.

Her gauze chemise was thin and light as air
and rippled against her body like a soft silken web fanned by the
gentle breeze along the river. But to Ryne even that vaporous
garment was an offense to his eyes. He wanted her in his arms with
no barrier, no matter how flimsy, between them. Whispering her
name, he peeled the chemise from her body, drawing it over her head
as she slowly lifted her arms to aid him.

There on the grassy edge of the riverbank
the magical last rays of sunset framed her with red-gold light and
lit dancing sparks of red in the hair that tumbled below her
shoulders. Ryne stepped hurriedly out of his breeches while she
watched, unashamed of her nakedness and entranced by the sight of
him.

She thought him beautiful, shoulders
gleaming like polished copper catching the red rays of the sun, the
straight black hair swinging loose and giving almost a savage look
to the strong, handsome features of his face.

Bewitched, each by the other, they came
together, flesh to flesh, spirit to spirit, in the ageless wizardry
of desire. Ryne heard her swift intake of breath and his own groan
as their loins made contact and she knew the heat of his full
ardor.

He could not believe she was so willing in
his arms nor that he was so overwhelmed by his yearning for her. It
was not what he had planned, not to lose his head like a boy with
his first woman. But his arousal was a flame that burned him from
head to foot with a wanting that was madness.

He looped his fingers in her hair, drawing
her head back for his kisses. Her lips seared to his wildly,
longingly, each kiss building the hunger that demanded a deeper
satisfaction.

Amanda’s exploring fingers found the
contours of his back and felt the tensing of each band of muscles
beneath his smooth flesh. She dropped her hands to his buttocks,
massaging her fingertips into the softer flesh there and feeling
the quiver she caused run through his thighs.

Ryne slid his hands down her body, mocking
her actions and starting a tremble all through her warm, silken
flesh. He cupped her small buttocks with his hands and lifted her
slowly along the length of his body.

“I’ve wanted you,” he whispered, sweeping
her into his arms. “Wanted you from the first moment, and I’ve
tried like the devil’s pawn not to. But now there’s no help for it.
I must have you, Amanda.” He carried her to a place where the grass
was green and thick and they were shielded by a growth of
brush.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice faint and
faraway. So bewitched was she by the rhythm of his voice and the
hypnotic blue of his eyes that she would have responded the same to
any words he uttered.

He knelt, lowering her to the grass. The
crushed green blades smelled sweet as a spring meadow and felt cool
and soft beneath her heated skin. She caught his arms and pulled
him down to her, not wanting to relinquish the feel of him against
her.

Ryne stretched his length out beside her,
turning her body gently to him, but only for a moment before his
mouth was at her breast, his tongue warm and wet on the crescent
peak that he teased and nibbled until she thought she could bear it
no more. She felt the flush of heat just beneath her skin, the
warm, radiating heat between her thighs where his hand rested from
its plundering.

“Ryne, please,” she cried. “You must—”

“No, no, Amanda, my sweet. I must not rush.”
He rolled her to her back and knelt between her thighs, his hands
running over her body like hot, licking flames, driving her into a
warring frenzy of agony and ecstasy. “It must be the best for you,
my little love,” he whispered, lowering himself upon her so that
she could feel his rigid manhood thrusting gently against her
maidenhead. “I want to make you forget him and all the others.” His
breath was a warm torment at her ear. He had drawn away from her
and his knees were pushing her legs wide apart. Then his hands were
beneath her, lifting her hips for his entry.