Through the Storm

  They did not linger over their good-byes. She shared a tight hug with a teary-eyed Juliana, and the brothers raised their glasses in salute as Raimond led her out the door.

  A carriage and driver stood waiting. On the dark ride through the city, Sable was silent and off balance. She felt him watching her from the opposite seat, but he seemed content to be silent. The urge to explain the reasons for her flight from the camp become overwhelming, but he didn’t appear to care about hearing her side.

  She asked instead, “Where are we going?”

  “To a house I purchased a few days ago.”

  “Is that where I’ll live?”

  “Yes. I’ll keep my own apartment across town.”

  Sable knew from their earlier conversation that she would not be sharing his life, so why did hearing it again now create a tiny ache in her heart?

  The large, sprawling house lay in shadows as they entered. Only a few candles had been left burning on the main floor. He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs to a room ablaze with light. Shimmering candlelight undulated over the furnishings, particularly a large net-shrouded four-poster bed dominating the far wall. The verandah doors were opened to let in the breeze and the stars. Near them had been placed one of the largest bathing tubs Sable had ever seen.

  She turned from her visual tour to find him staring at her. Once again she read desire in his eyes. Not certain how to proceed, she asked, “Am I supposed to remove my clothing now?”

  “No. When the time comes, I will remove it.”

  Sable fought to keep her breathing even but did a poor job. Her previous impression of him as a tiger couldn’t be more true. He’d lured her into his lair, and she was as mesmerized by his powerful presence as she was wary of it.

  Raimond gently placed his hand beneath her chin and lifted her eyes to his. He ran his gaze slowly over the face that had floated through his dreams since last November and said honestly, “Sable, no matter how angry I am with you, I will never, ever take you in anger. Never. We can fight tomorrow, but this is our wedding night, and I wish to make love to you as I would a true wife.”

  His words touched her with such sweet force, she felt tears well in her eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered. The sight of her tears twisted his heart and made him place short, soothing kisses against both damp eyes. Not even his anger could mask how good it felt to have her near again.

  “I’m not crying,” she replied softly. “We queens know that crying alters nothing.”

  Short, sweet kisses were now falling on her cheeks, her eyebrows, her jaw. She drew in sharp, soft breaths as he brushed his lips across the lobes of her ears and then her parted mouth.

  Raimond wanted her. He knew she was a Jezebel, but he craved nothing more than to taste her fully and without inhibition. Her traitorous lips were lush and sweet, even sweeter than he remembered. The sultriness shining behind her proper, well-mannered facade called to him with the mind numbing song of a siren. Although he’d originally planned to seduce her out of vengeance, he’d become ensnared in his own net.

  And for now, he didn’t care. The touch, taste, and scent of her overrode his original purpose; all his desire centered on making love to her until dawn.

  Sable trembled as he slowly turned her and began to undo the long line of hooks down the back of her dress. He had a sure, deft touch that signaled his familiarity with the task and soon had the dress open wide enough for her to feel the night air mingling with the long, lingering brushes of his lips across her neck and the skin above her silk shift.

  As he continued to press his lips against her awakening skin, his expert hands slid slowly around her breasts, cupping them, stroking the already ripened buds until she closed her eyes. When the sweet conquest continued, her head dropped back and a small moan escaped her parted lips. He leaned down to recapture her mouth while his hand continued to make her nipples ache. She turned to him to savor more of his kisses and desire flared higher as he undid the dress past her waist. She drew in a soft breath as his palms slid her silk drawers over her hips. His touch warmed her, tempted her to open herself to him.

  As he pulled the long-sleeved dress down her arms, Sable reluctantly broke the kiss, but because he wouldn’t stop pressing his heated lips against the crowns of her breasts and the pulse point at the base of her throat, it took more time than it might have to free her arms and step out of the gown. Once she did, he kicked it gently aside, and stood looking down at her with his hungry tiger’s eyes.

  Raimond eased down one side of her shift and feasted his eyes on her lush golden breast. He reached out to stroke it but stopped as he caught sight of what appeared to be a star carved across the skin. “Who did this to you?”

  “My aunt.”

  Sable waited for his reaction to the knowledge that his wife’s skin bore the symbolic markings of the Firsts. Since she’d always thought the work beautiful it had never crossed her mind until now that a husband might not agree.

  “How extensive is it?”

  “Not very. I’ve some moons on my upper thigh and a sun on each hip.”

  Raimond’s manhood flared at the idea of slowly exploring her until he learned every intimate part of her. “Let me see…”

  Sable swallowed her self-consciousness and removed her camisole. He brought one of the fat candles over and set it down close. The sputtering light revealed the delicately carved moons that were splayed like jewels across her breasts just above the dark nipples. His glowing eyes made her nipples tighten in response.

  He filled his hand with her honey-gold breasts and his nostrils with the scent of her neck. The markings on her drew him like a spell. He slowly placed his lips against her shoulders and slid a whispering finger over the moons cresting her breasts. On his world travels he’d seen many forms of ritual marking, but Sable’s was unlike any design he had ever seen.

  “Do you know what any of it means?”

  She doubted her ability to answer his question in the face of his distracting lips and wandering hands, but she managed to say, “Some of it has to do with my grandmother’s tribe.”

  He took her nipple between love-gentled teeth. Her choked cry of response floated on the room’s silence. As he moved his attentions to the moon adorning the other breast, she found it hard to stand without swaying. He suckled her deliciously, languidly. He slid his hand into her drawers and wantonly explored her virgin’s heat. Using his tongue to trace the golden undercurve of her breasts, his hand continued to cup, stroke, and slide over her silken hips and thighs.

  He picked her up and carried her to the bed, and his commanding presence took her breath away. Never in her life had she imagined being so overwhelmed by a man, or by his ability to bring her pleasure. He set her down on the large mattress as if she were the most precious possession on earth, and for this one night Sable didn’t mind pretending she was. He’d opened passion’s treasure chest and gifted her with kisses and caresses she was certain she’d never experience with any other man.

  Holding her eyes, he removed her stockings and untied her drawers. His gaze was so fiery she expected flames to encircle the bed. Leaning back on her arms, she lifted a bit so the garment could be eased away, and a breath later she was nude. He was seated on the edge of the bed beside her. Under the flickering light of a lone candle, he slowly traced the aureole of one sable tipped breast with a feather-light touch, first one way and then the other until she arched her back sinuously in response. He rewarded her by lightly circling his tongue around the yearning, straining bud before suckling her wholly. She moaned from the rising intensity and he treated her other breast to the same erotic sampling, leaving it damp and throbbing in the candlelight.

  Raimond found her too magnificent to resist. She was a Jezebel with satin breasts and a mouth created by the gods. He eased her to lie flat, and her golden skin drew him to taste, savor, and caress. His roaming hand found the thin line of moon and stars banding her left thigh. Its beauty left him in awe. Bend
ing down, he greeted each tiny symbol with a deep kiss, then placed another on her navel. He felt her trembling beneath his roaming mouth, heard her halting breath when his hand explored the silken hair below. He found her damp and sweetly flowing. Watching desire bloom on her face, he slowly and intimately circled her heat. The sight of her rising so shamelessly to his hand fired his desire even higher. He continued to play, stroking, teasing, and tempting her to enjoy the pleasure of his touch.

  And Sable did enjoy it—each and every nuance of his vast expertise—so much so that when he slid a bold finger over her swollen gate, the sensation made her hips rise and a moan slip from between her lips. He plied the small jewel until the sounds she made became a song in the night, and release crackled over her like lightning.

  When she finally regained enough sanity to open her eyes, his bearded face was above her looking down. She reached up to stroke his cheek and he turned her palm to his lips. She realized she knew very little about this man she’d married, the man she loved, but the thought soon fled as his lips found her wrist. He blazed a trail from it back to her mouth and the loving began again.

  He kissed her eyes and nose, her lips and chin. He kissed his way down the front plane of her body, using his hands to keep her breasts ripe and hard, then pulled away and stood.

  Raimond took a moment to remove his clothing, then as nude as the good Lord made him, he joined her on the bed. He kissed her gently, coaxingly, thoroughly.

  Sable thought him the most beautifully made man she’d ever seen, and she used her hands to tell him so. She’d lost her modesty about the male form during her stint at the camp hospital, where she’d viewed far more of the male anatomy than was proper, but she’d never seen a man whose physique made her hands yearn to explore. The dark muscles of his arms seemed to be fashioned for her to caress. His shoulders and collarbone conformed perfectly to her kiss. She’d always enjoyed his kisses, and tonight she couldn’t seem to get enough.

  Raimond reacted to her hot, seeking mouth like any other male. He gathered her close and lost himself in the feel of her softness melting against his strength. He slid his hand up her luscious behind and discovered yet another set of carvings. He rolled her onto her stomach to get a better view of the two sunbursts adorning a golden bottom he couldn’t help but squeeze. He kissed each sun with the passion of a lover and the reverence of a knight, while his hand played brazenly. She reacted to his touch by turning to seek his kiss, and he gave her what she craved.

  Unable to break the kiss, he eased her again onto her back. Skimming his hands down her thighs, he gently parted her and as slowly as he could manage, eased his manhood home.

  “Am I hurting you?” he asked, kissing her ear softly as he moved gently within her.

  Sable wanted to say no, but the joining was more painful than she’d anticipated. Still, the slow, lulling rhythm was as impossible to resist as the distracting spell of his kisses and hands.

  “Relax, ma reine…” he breathed against her ear. “Let me teach you…”

  And soon, because of his patient and fiery tutelage, she was no longer filled with pain, no longer tense with anxiety. His distracting hands and fabled kisses filled her instead with his virile male heat.

  Raimond found her so beautifully responsive, he burned to ride her like a stormy sea, but because she was new to this and to him, he kept his movements slow, as slow as his near-bursting desire would allow. Maintaining the pace became difficult, however, as she began to rise and fall to his thrusts. Soon, they were in the midst of the whirlwind. Her sharp cries of response mingled with his hoarse cries of pleasure. He filled his hands with her sunburst hips and stroked her as possessively as he’d ever dreamed.

  Sable met every stroke with a fierce and possessive wildness of her own. She wanted to brand him and be branded in return, but release claimed her and the world exploded and she was swept away.

  Raimond watched le petite morte tear through her body, and the sight set off his own roaring release. Increasing his thrusts, he rode the storm of love to its tempestuous conclusion.

  Under the light of the lone and now dying candle the newlywed couple returned to an awareness of their separate selves like castaways washed upon the shore. Just before Sable fell asleep, she felt Raimond pull her close, kiss her softly, and whisper, “Bonne nuit, bijou.”

  That last part must have been a dream, she decided, because she knew he’d never call her his jewel again—not in reality.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, Sable awakened still close to Raimond’s side. She looked up to find him watching her. Innocent though she’d been, she knew last night had been extraordinary. She sensed that he too had been touched by their passion.

  “Well?” she offered. She had no idea how to approach him in the fresh light of a new day.

  “Well, what?” he responded, all the while wanting to pull her atop him so he could kiss her lips and fill his hands with her sunburst bottom. He resisted the urge, telling himself he had no plan to become entrapped by his thieving wife.

  “What happens now, is what I’m asking,” she explained quietly.

  Unable to resist touching her any longer, Raimond ran his finger gently down the curve of her spine. “You’ll return to my mother’s home until this house is ready, and I will go back to my own world.”

  He cupped her bottom and traced the small raised sunbursts. “How old were you when this was done?”

  Sable forced herself to move away from his too tempting touch. Sitting up, she dragged a sheet across her nakedness. “I was twelve, thirteen.” Until their relationship became clearer, she would not succumb to his seductive play. “It was part of my great-aunt’s traditions.”

  “Was it painful?”

  “No. Vashti, our root woman, gave me something to drink that numbed my skin and made me feel like I was part of the clouds. When the marks began healing they burned like the dickens. I think they’re very beautiful.”

  Gazing into her eyes, he agreed, “Very beautiful.”

  Looking away lest she be snared, Sable added, “Sally Ann didn’t think so. She called them heathen jungle carvings. She just about fainted when my sister Mavis asked to have her skin marked too. Sally Ann got so mad she banned us from going to see Mahti for a month.”

  “I’ll bet you went anyway.”

  Sable smiled. “As a matter of fact, I did.” She observed him seated across the bed and said truthfully, “I didn’t know Baker intended to hurt you.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. You and your accomplices planned on stealing Sherman’s papers and disappearing into the night.”

  Sable stared at him. “What papers?”

  “Oh, come on, Sable, playing the innocent is fine in bed, but don’t take me for a fool.”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

  And she truthfully did not.

  “Be glad you changed your name to Elizabeth Clark, because if the army had found you, you and eventually your friends would’ve been tried for treason.”

  Her eyes widened. “Treason?”

  “That’s what it’s called when you work for the enemy.”

  “Are you saying they thought we were Rebel spies?”

  “Weren’t you?”

  “Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous!”

  “Where’s Baker now?”

  “Still in Massachusetts, I assume.”

  “Who else was involved besides you?”

  “I wasn’t involved in anything other than the theft from your chest, and I already told you that Bridget came North with us.”

  Sable studied him closely. He actually believed she was a traitor! No wonder he acted so thunderous all the time. “I had nothing to do with the general’s papers.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She now had her answer to the question as to whether he would change his mind upon hearing the truth. She set aside the hurt and with a raised chin replied, “Whether you believe me or not, I was not involve
d.”

  “You stole from me.”

  “I’m an ex-slave, Raimond. I was afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “Being reenslaved. I know you said you would protect me, but never in life have I seen a man of the race win a battle against a man like Morse. When Bridget told me Baker overheard Morse and Major Borden making a deal to send me back, what was I supposed to do? I’m sorry I stole your gold, but I saw no other solution.”

  “You could have waited for my return. Had you asked, I would have given you the gold.”

  “There wasn’t time.” The set of his face told her he didn’t believe a word. “I’m sorry you don’t believe me,” she whispered.

  “I am too.”

  With the past standing between them like an impenetrable wall, Sable slid from the bed to get dressed. Her eyes strayed over small spots of blood on the sheet, proof of her deflowering, but she did not dwell upon them. Because she had no other clothes, she slipped back into the gown she’d been married in. She wished she could wash but doubted he’d want her there any longer than necessary. The contract had been fulfilled, the marriage consummated. Now he would return to his mistress and his own life and she would try to carve out a niche of her own while waiting to see if last night’s loving had produced a child.

  Raimond came up behind her and fastened the hooks of her dress. He hadn’t planned on ending the morning this way, but it had. He waited while she ran one of his brushes through her hair and braided it at her nape. She faced him then as bold and as proud as one of the Old Queens. “I will wait for you downstairs.”

  But she didn’t wait.

  When he came downstairs with the intention of escorting her back across the city, he found she’d already gone.

  Juliana appeared surprised to see Sable at her door, but per Sable’s request, she paid off the hack waiting in front of the house and joined her in the study.

  “Whatever has happened?” Juliana asked, closing the study door. “Where’s Raimond?”