Part 36 (1/2)
”Finian, I can help. I can do something. do something. What is happening? Tell me.” What is happening? Tell me.”
”I came only to make sure ye were settled,” he replied gruffly. ”Stay here in the room. Ye'll hear people going into the hall. There's a feast tonight, but I'd rather ye stay here.”
”A feast-?”
”La.s.sar will see ye've got a pretty skirt or two, and clean things, and she'll look out for ye. We leave in the morning.”
”Where are we going?”
”Not ye.” Finian yanked on the other boot and rose. Swiftly he tugged on the dark red leine leine and belted it. and belted it.
”Pardon?” she asked.
”We're going to war.” He knew his speech was clipped and brusque, and it was the only way.
”Oh, no,” he heard her whisper behind him.
”I leave first thing in the morn.” He grated the words out, glanced at her briefly, then turned for the door. ”I may not-. I will not see ye before I go.”
”Oh.”
That brought him swinging back around, shocked at the fury she'd conjured with such a simple word and all its complicated implications. ”I am doing my duty, Senna.” He had to smash the words out through his clenched jaw. ”My duty. There is nothing else, do ye not see that? Have I not made that clear?”
She lifted her chin. ”To the contrary, you've made several things abundantly clear. One, you are capable of great stupidity. Two-”
His jaw dropped.
”You have obviously been spoiled terribly, to have the arrogance to don clean clothes over that dirty body. Thirdly, you demonstrate a streak of stubbornness I had not-”
He started for the door. ”Stay here.”
He made it to the threshold before he felt her light touch on his arm. ”Do not leave me in this manner.”
It could have been a plea. But it wasn't. It was clear and fierce and bright and exactly what he wanted from her, and it made him turn, when what he ought to do was smash through the door and never stop going.
He had no choice. Clear and fierce and bright Clear and fierce and bright would get her killed. She would be noticed. Already the murmuring was beginning, that she'd started a war. Things could go badly. Quickly. So he met her gaze dead-on, cold and challenging, ignoring the urge to lose himself in her feminine strength. would get her killed. She would be noticed. Already the murmuring was beginning, that she'd started a war. Things could go badly. Quickly. So he met her gaze dead-on, cold and challenging, ignoring the urge to lose himself in her feminine strength.
”Listen to me, Senna,” he said coldly. ”Stay in the room. If it pleases ye more, I will try to see ye before I leave.”
He pulled open the door but she appeared in front of him, blocking his path. He could plow her over, of course, but she was small and-G.o.d save him, was that a blade in her hand?
”Jesus, woman,” he snarled, but he snarled it while frozen. The blade tip hovered just beneath his chin.
”Try to see me?” she echoed his words, rather coldly, he admitted. There was a glint in her eye that harkened to violence. Fortunately, much as she might throw a blade with skill, she was inexperienced with combat and far too furious to be effective. Or focused. she echoed his words, rather coldly, he admitted. There was a glint in her eye that harkened to violence. Fortunately, much as she might throw a blade with skill, she was inexperienced with combat and far too furious to be effective. Or focused.
He snapped his hand up and clamped his fingers around her wrist, then yanked down. He gave a fierce shake and the knife broke loose, clattering to the floor. Still holding her wrist, he propelled her backward. When she hit the wall, he bent to her face.
”Do not ever raise a weapon to me.”
”Do not ever abandon me.” She was breathing fast, her face flushed, but her words came out slow and precise.
The wrist trapped in his grip was delicate-he could snap it with a twist-but she was staring at him with ferocity, and she seemed, as she always seemed to him, magnificent as the sun.
With a muted curse, he dropped her wrist and threaded his fingers violently through her long, damp tresses. His hands caught on knots, but he simply fisted them into handfuls and dragged them up, beside her jaw. He did not want to talk to her, answer her questions, feel anything at all. Senna's every fiber quivered for connection, and he did not want it. He was going to war. All he could manage of Senna de Valery right now was her body.
But that-that he suddenly needed with a desperation he'd never known before.
Before she could utter another maddening word, he plowed her mouth open beneath a kiss and backed her up to the low bedstead. She sat down hard on the mattress. Standing before her, he pushed her legs apart with a knee and stood between them, shoving aside the robe covering her damp body. She already had one hand on his head, pulling him down to her. He bent his hips, but remained standing. She sc.r.a.ped her other hand up his chest, her tongue hot in his mouth as soon as he was close enough. They were like mad things, touching each other, each feel of skin wanted and insufficient, left behind as they reached for the next.
He clamped her hips and dragged her to the edge of the bed, sliding her naked body over the furs, stretched out like a gift-a river of damp hair across the furs, her slightly rounded abdomen, long, muscular legs, and the tangle of reddish blond curls between her legs. He dragged a single callused fingertip between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down her belly, to the curls, raising throaty whimpers.
She flung herself up and impatiently fumbled with the folds of his leine, leine, fingers trembling. He watched, motionless, letting her fumble with the unfamiliar layers, then he loosed the belt and stepped between her thighs. He cupped her cheek and pushed her back to lie flat on the bed, while he stood before her. fingers trembling. He watched, motionless, letting her fumble with the unfamiliar layers, then he loosed the belt and stepped between her thighs. He cupped her cheek and pushed her back to lie flat on the bed, while he stood before her.
”Raise yer knees,” he ordered.
She lifted one, but before she could get it fully bent, he had his palm under it, pulling up. Her chest fluttered in unsteady panting as she tried to reach around to the curve of his b.u.t.tocks to pull him forward. He bent enough to plant his free hand onto the mattress beside her head. Eyes locked, he entered her in one slow, relentless thrust. Her lips parted in a low keen.
No more questions, no more wondering on the future or the meaning of things. There was only this one perfect moment, where she would mouth his name and let him rule her. He rocked his hips forward in long, relentless thrusts. She met each one with furious abandon, her mouth open, her eyes locked on his, every shadow of her lit for him.
Her surrender came on every level, and a wave of respect corded with guilt rose inside him. She had given herself over completely to this thing with him. It felt as if he were being drowned in her; there was no breath that was not Senna-filled. She was his, to do with as he would.
He plunged again, feeling her hot, throbbing pa.s.sage constrict around him. ”'Tis good,” he muttered against her swollen lips. His. His.
He straightened and reached for her other knee, holding it as he did the first. Standing between her thighs, her knees dangling from his upturned palms, he threw back his head and closed his eyes, centering on the feeling of being deep inside her, of loving her without words. His penetrations became rocking, furious, powerful thrusts, and she stopped even trying to meet him at the crest. She took each one with a deep-throated moan of pleasure, eyes pressed shut, neck arched, arms stretched on the bed above her head, twisting through the furs.
The muscles of his neck and arms strained, each sinewy fiber outlined and bulging as he pounded fiercely into her wet heat, hips against hips, a groan for each mewling cry, as he drove her riotously into a savage, unbridled climax.
It came quickly. She staggered over the edge and fell headlong into her shuddering o.r.g.a.s.m, crying his name. Finian roared as he found his own cliff and tipped over it, into her, kissing her, losing himself in this brave, unexpected woman.
There was nothing he was more afraid of. Weakness followed directly from this sort of thing.
They disentangled their sweaty bodies far enough for him to fall on the mattress beside her. She smiled tiredly, but the look in her eyes closed his. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the smoke-blackened beams bisecting the ceiling.
Senna wielded some warped, s.h.i.+ning notion about him as a man, what he was capable of, and she believed in it the way others believed in G.o.d or the power of rain. That would never do. He was built to lead his people, then self-destruct.
There was still time to make her understand there was nothing else inside him, nothing at all.
He pushed away the furs and propped himself on an elbow, then ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek in one gentle stroke.
”Ye oughn't to ever have let me touch ye, Senna,” he said quietly. ”I'll ruin ye.”
She rolled toward his soft, warning words. ”No.”