Christian arrived for her as the last pins were set into place. “How regal you look, my love,” he complimented.
Her reply held a barb. “Good enough for a prince?”
“Indeed,” he nodded, refusing to be baited.
The chapel was packed to the doors, but the crowd made way for the newlyweds to pass inside. All were shocked that the Arabian had killed his brother then married his brother’s betrothed, but the king apparently accepted Robert de Beauchamp’s death as an accident and sanctioned the union of Hawksblood and Brianna of Bedford. All the royal Plantagenet family were present for the christening. A chair had been provided for Queen Philippa, while King Edward held the child. Like a trophy, thought Brianna. All men are vain. Especially when it comes to symbols of their virility!
Because he was so tall, she saw Prince Edward’s golden head as he stood with the other princes and princesses. When Joan had her baby, he wouldn’t be able to claim his child. Joan was now Lady Holland and her and Edward’s child would be a Holland. Brianna’s heart ached for Joan. For Edward she had no pity. He was a bloody man, and a powerful one. If he could not marry Joan honorably, he should never have had his lustful way with her!
She glanced briefly at her new husband and was surprised at the look on his face. He was so tall he could watch the christening over the heads of those in front of him. His face was so tender as he watched the baby. Wistful too. The look told her plainly he longed for a child of his own. Brianna suddenly felt faint. Instantly his eyes were on her, his arm at her back to steady her, and she could have sworn he looked at her with infinite tenderness for a fleeting moment before his mask fell back into place.
And then the ceremony was over and they were being jostled by the crowd as the entire Court made its way to the Banqueting Hall. She felt Hawksblood grip her hand so they would not get separated. A long trestle table covered with white satin displayed the christening gifts that had been presented.
“Oh dear, I gave no gift,” Brianna murmured.
“I sent one from both of us.”
“Which?” she asked, looking at the presents.
“The heart-shaped locket with the ruby and seed pearls,” he murmured low.
Brianna almost gasped at the size of the ruby. It must be worth hundreds of pounds. Was he already dipping into Warrick’s coffers, or God forbid, Bedford’s?
As her husband held her chair for her, she glanced at him and said, “I don’t really wish to be here.”
“We’ll find an opportunity to slip away soon,” he assured her.
Now she was in a fever to stay!
“Have you eaten anything today?” he asked with solicitude as the toasts to the new princess began.
Brianna shook her head, realizing she had not. No wonder she felt faint in the chapel.
“Just sip the wine,” he warned.
Instead, she drank it down quickly, draining the cup.
“You have already broken your vow to obey me. And done it deliberately, Brianna.”
As it bloomed bloodred inside her breast, she shrugged a careless, shapely shoulder. “Since I made them under duress, I’ll likely break them all before I’m done. One precious vow at a time!” As she lifted her cup as a signal for it to be refilled, he took hold of her wrist and squeezed. The cup fell from her fingers.
“You are ridiculous. There is absolutely no question about it; when I give orders, you will obey them or you will be made to obey them. The choice is yours.” His eyes impaled her.
I hate you! she thought.
“You do not,” he said emphatically.
My God, he read her thought. Now she hated and feared him!
The corner of his mouth went up ironically. “You do not fear me overmuch, lady, or you would not dare provoke me.”
Brianna forced herself to concentrate upon the dishes before her. She took a slice of lamb, an artichoke, and a little watercress. She managed to chew and swallow a mouthful of meat then picked the petals from the artichoke and lifted one to her mouth.
Christian bent toward her. “You do realize that is an aphrodisiac?” He kept a straight face as she pushed the plate away. When the final course was served she took a small wedge of cheese and a piece of christening cake. She timed her next move perfectly. While Ali offered rosewater to cleanse Hawksblood’s fingers, she picked up her husband’s wine goblet and drained it.
With sudden insight, he realized she needed courage for what lay ahead. He spoke low to Ali, but she heard every word, as no doubt he intended. “Prepare a bath for my lady, then the rest of the evening is yours.”
“We will leave now,” Christian murmured.
“We cannot offend the Plantagenets,” Brianna protested low.
“All here know we were wed this morning and tonight is special to us. Come, Brianna.” He stood up and took her hand. As she arose from the table she was slightly unsteady and he knew the wine affected her a little. He felt the tremor of her hand as his fingers curled about it.
As they moved down the long passage that led from the hall, she said, “If I am to bathe, I will need privacy.”
He squeezed her hand and bent his dark head toward her. “We will have complete privacy, beloved. Ali knows we wish to be alone.”
“That isn’t what I meant!” she objected as they reached their apartment. Ali had lit a fire and set the bath in the bedchamber. The servants were just departing with their empty buckets.
“I have laid out the perfumed oils and towels, my lord. Is there anything else you desire?”
“My lady desires privacy, complete privacy. Please see that we are not disturbed this night.”
Ali bowed and closed the door.
Brianna swung about. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes brilliant. “You know exactly what I mean! Privacy from you!”
Christian moved toward her purposefully. With his eyes on hers, he lifted his hands to draw out the pins from her coronet. His fingers had been aching this past hour to touch her glorious hair, to take it down, to see it in all its glory. “I cannot understand your shyness, sweetheart. We have already been lovers and yet you needed the wine to give you courage.”
“I don’t need courage, I need privacy!” She tried to pull away but his fingers entangled in her hair made it painful, so she stilled.
“We have total privacy. No one will ever see what we do this night. No one will hear our love cries. None will ever know what intimacies will take place in this bath, in that bed.”
She was bristling with anger now, as was his intent. Her anger would drive out her fear. Her beautiful eyes seemed filled with green sparks. “I will not undress and bathe in front of you!”
His fingers stroked her golden hair and spread it about her shoulders. “There is no need. I will undress you and bathe you.” Even as he spoke his fingers had undone the lacing at the side of her tunic.
Her fury made her breathless. “You are a devil … an Arabian devil!”
His sure hands removed the tunic and moved to the underdress. “And you are the bride of an Arabian devil.”
His words sent a tremor through her body. She could feel the heat of his powerful hands through the fine material of her underdress. One hand moved up to cup a full breast while the other moved beneath her skirt and slid up her thigh. She was all ashiver at the way he touched her.
“My beautiful, beautiful Brianna. I want to explore you until I come to know you fully. I want to see you hissing and spitting with fury, I want to see you laughing and crying and loving. I want to see you in a tower of passion that topples at my touch, and then I want to see you experience them all over again when you are naked.” His hands almost succeeded in removing her underdress.
“No!” she cried, stubbornly clinging to the diaphanous material.
“No? You need a little more courage before you feel ready to embark on the journey to womanhood?”
Brianna had no ready reply to the outrageous things he said to her. He moved across the room to a cabinet and poured wine
into an exquisite chalice. Then he returned to her and towered above her, far too close for her comfort. She reached out to take the golden cup, but he took her hand and placed it upon his hard muscled chest, then he himself lifted the wine to her lips. “We will share,” he murmured huskily. “We will share everything as lovers.”
She lowered her dark, gilt-tipped lashes and quaffed the golden wine. His hand allowed her to take all that she wanted, all that she needed. “Drink deeply of the cup of life, the cup of love,” he murmured low, his voice as rich as dark velvet.
When she looked down at herself she saw that she was naked. When had he removed her last garment? He drained the last mouthful she had left him and she watched, mesmerized, as he brought his lips down to hers and gave her the wine-rich kiss. His mouth tasted like Heaven and hell. She hated him, loved him, loathed him.
Christian savored the loveliness before him. He lifted her hair and let it tumble back against her skin. Golden silk against cream satin. He cupped her face, his long fingers tenderly curving about her cheeks, then his lips brushed her brow, her cheekbone, the beauty mark. The tantalizing cleft of her chin drew the tip of his tongue to trace its shape, and then at last his mouth took possession of hers in a kiss that explored her scented, wet alcove, her wine-drenched sweetness.
The deep, sensual kiss engaged all her senses so completely that she did not feel his hand slip between her legs. She became aware of it only when the heat from his strong palm cupping her whole mons seeped up inside of her. She felt his other hand slide down the curve of her back, beneath her hair and come to rest firmly upon her rounded bottom.
And then he lifted her!
“Hawksblood, no!” she cried out, and had to cling to him to prevent herself from falling.
His wicked mouth teased hers. “Christian, say Christian. I want to taste my name upon your lips.”
“Devil! Devil! Devil! What does that taste like?”
“It tastes wicked and wanton and wondrously sinful.”
She gasped with exasperation and then surprise as he lifted her high, then lowered her into the warm, scented water, carefully draping her hair outside the bath. He knelt beside the tub and reached for the sponge.
“No! Please, Hawksblood, allow me to bathe myself.”
“Say Christian.”
“Please, Chris—” Before she had finished his name, his mouth possessed hers, savoring the feel of it upon her lips. As a reward for obeying him, he placed the sponge in her hand and stood up. A sigh of relief floated from her lips, but before the sigh was completely released, she drew in a swift breath. Jesu, he was taking this opportunity to strip naked. She dare not look away from him for fear of what he would do next, this maddening, infuriating husband of hers.
Brianna’s eyes widened at the pure splendor of him. She had forgotten the physical perfection of the man. He was as darkly beautiful as some mythic god. The firelight reflected upon the sheen of his skin, highlighting every muscle and lithe sinew of his chest and iron-hard thighs.
The heat of the water and the wine combined to make her body tingle. It turned traitor on her and began to remember the sensual sensations he had aroused in her at Bedford. A longing began, an aching that intensified relentlessly. The emptiness inside her magnified a thousandfold. Her body needed to be filled. She was skin-hungry, needing his touch. She was ready to scream.
She watched him move about the chamber. He spread a big, thirsty towel before the fire, took the stopper from an alabaster flagon and set it beside the towel. Then he was coming for her. When he lifted her from the water, she shivered as the cool air touched her warm skin.
He laid her on the towel before the fire and spread her golden tresses in a glorious halo about her head. The water that clung to her skin slowly evaporated in the warmth from the fire. Some of the drops, however, formed tiny rivulets between her breasts, around her navel, at the vee of her thighs. Christian bent down to lick the iridescent drops from her damp body, until she was shivering from head to heels.
“Oh God, oh God,” she whimpered, wanting him to stop, wanting him to continue forever.
He poured scented oil from the flagon into his palm, warmed it at the flames, then smoothed it with a sweeping, sensuous stroke down her throat, between the valley of her breasts, across her taut belly, then down to her thighs. The fragrance of myrrh and lemon almost stole her senses and her skin turned from ice to fire as he stroked and massaged her firm young flesh until it gleamed in the fireglow.
His voice, low, vibrating with dark passion flowed over her. “I want what we feel to go deeper than love, for the soul has greater depths. Love, like the symbolic wedding ring, has no beginning, no end. Deepest passion, once it starts cannot be stopped. When I take you to bed, inside the curtains, in the dark, we will trace what we feel back to the root of love. You must surrender everything you know, everything you are, with abandon.”
Brianna was in a fever of need as he lifted her and carried her to the bed. But it was a purely physical need he had aroused in her, it had nothing spiritual about it. It had nothing to do with a meeting of their souls. She could feel his thick shaft rub against her thigh, hot and hard as the great iron poker that stood against the fireplace.
In the bed he rolled against her, embracing her, engulfing her with his blatant masculinity. His body was as hard as if he were mail-clad and she began to sob with her great need. What he had aroused in her was simple, downright lust! She was female, he was male, and she thirsted for his domination.
As he tongued one boldly impudent nipple until it spiked in his mouth, he slipped a finger inside her to trace her, to explore her, then he eased in a second finger and thrust deep, feeling her tighten about him, arch blindly as she began to build.
She was like hot, wet silk and though he was a master of control, Hawksblood knew an overwhelming desire to thrust his manroot deep inside her. His control shattered into a million shards. As he withdrew his fingers, Brianna moaned because of their loss.
“What, love?” he cried raggedly, towering above her.
She dug her nails into his flesh. “Christian, Christian, I want you to take me!”
He was white-hot, mad with need. He thrust home deeply, losing his heart completely to this girl with the lush woman’s body and sensual woman’s appetite. She met him more than halfway, taking and giving at the same time. Their lovemaking was almost violent. It was an assault of the senses.
All seven of them.
They ascended to the heights, both cried out raggedly as they peaked, then they plummeted down together, clinging tightly, in what felt very much like a small death. They lay motionless, sprawled together, drained to the last drop.
Then for Christian, the miracle of rebirth, as replenishment began. His strength and vigor swept back into him. And something else. A joy, a contentment, a peace he had never known. He rolled his weight from her, then slipped his arms about her, enfolding her against his heart, burying his face in her golden hair.
The surcease overwhelmed her. She began to sob until she bathed his heart with her tears. He had brought her pleasures that she had no right to. They had indulged in such carnal appetites, it had to be a mortal sin.
Christian knew Brianna’s emotions were as tangled as her beautiful hair at this moment. He knew tears were a cathartic release for a woman. Her fulfillment was mingled with grief and guilt, love and hate. He knew, too, it would take time for her to sort them all out. Though he was a patient man, he hoped and prayed it would not take too long for her to come to the realization that she loved and adored him every bit as much as he worshiped her. He would give her time to absorb the truth that this marriage was preordained. That they had belonged to each other since the dawn of time and that they would be together throughout eternity.
Brianna, who had been emotionally exhausted, was now physically exhausted. She sank into a deep sleep, not moving for hours. When she awakened, it was still dark inside the curtained bed. She was instantly aware of the man beside her, t
hough he was quietly sleeping. Fragments of a memory stole to her in the darkness. Was it a dream that she was trying to recall? Then suddenly she remembered.
Remembered vividly!
It was when Hawksblood had been at war and she had deliberately donned her mother’s gray velvet cloak so that she could conjure a vision of him. She realized with horror it had been no dream. It had been a prophecy, a glimpse of the future. She had envisioned Christian killing Robert and she had done nothing to prevent it. She vividly remembered luring Robert to the tower so that Christian could dispose of him. Then with Robert’s blood upon her, they had made love. It had all come to pass!
Brianna closed her eyes in the darkness, agonizing over the part she had played in all this. Had she in reality lured Christian to become her lover so that he would save her from marriage to Robert? Nay, she had not done so knowingly, but she admitted that she was not entirely blameless.
Her new husband turned in his sleep and his thigh brushed hers. Fear washed over her. But it was not simply fear of him. She was afraid of herself. Afraid of her deep desire for this Arabian Knight. Afraid of her dark longings that only he could assuage. Was he an immortal? Had she sold her soul to the devil? She must never let him know that he had complete power over her, that he owned her body and soul. He had put his mark upon her as surely as the brand he wore. She must keep some small part of herself from him to maintain a shred of dignity and honor. He must never know that she wanted him to touch her, that she craved sex from him. If he guessed how much she burned for him, she would be filled with self-loathing.
When Christian awoke, Brianna was still sleeping. She was lovely in her slumber. Her gilded lashes lay like tiny fans upon her cheeks and he felt a pang of regret that when they fluttered up and her green-flecked gaze rested upon him, they would be shadowed by guilt and accusation. He cursed softly that Robert’s ghost would stand between them. It had been no competition at all to have a flesh and blood rival, but a dead man took on an aura of virtue that was oftimes mythical.