Chapter Twenty-Five
The flames of passion burn as pure and bright
as fire from the hardest wood.
—Iain Montgomerie Ogilvie
Entering the chamber, Noel walked to the fireplace and added peats, then poked at the half-burnt ones to stir the flames into life. Plagued by the troubles stalking Craigendan, his mind could find no peace. Since quick answers to the dilemma were not rising in his thoughts, he felt relieved Guillaume had offered to stay for a spell longer. The men of Challon had survived enemies and warfare all these years by watching each other’s backs.
“Yet another time when brother stands with brother,” he whispered to the fire.
Staring intently into the blue flames, as if answers to his questions lay in the dancing lights, he failed to notice Skena had awakened until she slid her arms around his waist from behind, careful not to touch his wound. A smile crossed his lips as she pressed her body along to one side and hugged him. Closing his eyelids, he savored the tactile sensations of her holding him, relished the sensation that whispered how fortunate he was.
Taking hold of her lower arms, he unwrapped her hold about his waist. Not completely, just enough to pull her around to face him. “I wanted you to sleep,” he said, then kissed the side of her forehead.
Skena looked up, a drowsy expression in her brown eyes. “You went away and took all that wonderful heat from the bed. I feel chilled. I recall you saying there are other ways for a woman to warm a man’s blood. Faster ways. Do those tricks work for a man to warm a woman?”
He smiled and tugged her tighter to him. “I do believe ’tis the same for either.”
She rubbed her face against his arm much like a cat, as though she could not get close enough. “Show me, Noel,” she whispered, tilting her mouth up to his.
Skena ignited a blaze in his blood, the sensation flowing outward like molten iron within his body, a ravenous, clawing need, a force the likes he had never experienced. The craving pounded through his mind, and blotted out reason, leaving it hard to focus on anything except how soft her lips were, how he wanted to taste them.
“’Tis taxing to be honorable, lass, with you against me like this. ’Tis different for a woman. A man’s blood rules at such times. Age old instincts drive us, push us. The quickening in the blood turns animalistic. Once the beast within us slips the leash, ’tis not easy to remember soft words.” Noel struggled to hold on to the last shred of his sanity, as the scent off her skin filled his mind with intoxicating Skena.
“And you tell me this to say ’tis a bad thing, my lord?” A playful glint reflected in her luminous eyes. She pushed up on tiptoes to brush her mouth lightly against his. “And when am I to get my much needed kissing lessons?”
“You play with fire, lass,” he nearly hissed when she put her hands on his waist and slowly snaked them up his bare chest.
He tensed, every muscle rigid as though he were turning to steel. Desire was too strong in him, overpowering any sense of control. A smart man, he wanted this first time with the woman he loved to be special, to brand Skena so that she would never want another man’s touch. Still, he needed more. He was determined to sear the memory of Fadden from her soul, rid her of the old memories, and replace them with images of their being together.
“Fire warms...” She pressed her lips against his again.
He grinned. “Nay, fire...burns.”
Lowering his head, his mouth took hers. No more playful kisses. He let loose the rapacious force tearing apart his insides. No gentle lessons as he had planned to share with her.
He wanted. He took.
And took.
He feared shocking her by the near violence of his hunger. Undeterred, her fingers curled around the back of his upper arms as though seeking purchase to hang on. His embrace dropped around her lower back and arched her body against his, letting that soft curve at the apex of her thighs feel the throbbing need she provoked within him. Not frightened by the intensity of the kiss, or the blatant demand of his body, she twined her arms behind his neck and then used the purchase to rub against the friction of his groin.
Breaking the kiss, she panted out, “Then, my love, burn me.”
Noel felt he was the one burning! “So be it. I want to make all your wishes come true.”
Kissing her again, he itched to reach down, grab her thighs and wrap her strong legs around his waist. Though lost in the raging passion, after carrying her earlier down from the bastion, the slight movement saw his back remind him not to be so foolish again. The wound ached despite the unyielding mating drive taking the edge off the pain. Instead of following the impulse, he spun them toward the bed, nearly dancing her across the floor until her hips made contact with the high bed.
He paused, staring down into Skena’s face, enthralled by her pagan beauty. She was not perfumed or bedecked as fancy ladies at Court, yet she was worth a hundred score of them. Skena was simple, honest and loving. That love shown in her gleaming brown eyes.
The way she stared at him humbled him in a fashion he could not put into words. He wanted to fall to his knees and worship her, honor her for giving him something he never had. Still, the awe of his love pulsed as a fever in his blood, expressing itself in a craving that was near blinding.
As he put his hands around her waist, her mouth turned down at one corner. Troubled by her expression, he asked, “Skena, what upsets you?”
One shoulder gave a small shrug, then she looked down to avoid meeting his questioning stare. “’Tis naught.”
“We are betrothed. We must begin as we mean to go on our journey together, thus speaking truths between us is a must.”
Her chin lifted. Skena being brave. “You spoke I was too skinny. Worse, if I be in dire need of those kissing lessons, I fear what you will think of the...rest.”
Noel could not help but laugh. It was soft, not mocking, just a simple expression of his happiness bubbling forth. It caused her frown to deepen. She looked to one side, then the other, ready to burst into tears. Instead, she lifted her fisted hand to his chest as if to pound on him. It fell with only the faintest of thuds.
“De Servian...” His name came out with a choked sob. “You be an insensitive swine.”
“I shall ignore that feeble insult. You are thin, Skena, because you went without food to see others survive. ’Tis not your normal state. There will be plenty of rations for Craigendan. I shall spend the winter plumping you up. And I pointed out the slightness of your body not as unpleasing to me, but was simply scared that you were ill. I promised you kissing lessons, so that problem will soon be solved. As for the rest, let us say that tends to be a direct result of the kissing lessons. Lass, lass, oh lass…”
He brushed his mouth tenderly against hers, savored her sweet taste with the hint of mead still on her lips. Lifting his head, he watched the reactions play out in her cinnamon eyes, the awe, the wonder. He brushed his mouth with hers, then deepened it, just a bit. As he felt her hunger rise from the contact, he once more pulled back.
“Teaching you the ways of pleasure will be my greatest joy. Howbeit, it will require many lessons…long lessons,” he teased.
Skimming his hands down to her hips, he squeezed the firm roundness of her derrière, relished how his hands cupped the curves of her flesh. Then, with a quick jerk, lifted and gave her a small toss onto the bed’s plane. “Lie there. Do not move, or I shall beat you.” He sat down on the bed and began unlacing his hose.
“What if I wiggle my toes? That be moving. Will that require you to beat me?” She pushed the point by tickling the side of his thigh with her foot, toes dancing.
“It might.” His eyes danced over her body caressed by the shadows, as he climbed upon the high bed, moving to her on his hands and knees. Placing a knee on either side of her thighs, he loomed over her. The primitive male in him relished seeing Skena under him, hungered for her surrender. In the gossamer chemise, nothing was hidden from his ravenous eyes. The darker tips of her breasts drew his desire to where he could hardly look to anything else.
Finally raising his head, he said softly, “The first law of kissing is that kisses are not just for the lips.” He dragged his lips gently over her small, full mouth. “But can be placed anywhere.”
“Anywhere?” she chirped.
He nodded slowly. “Any...where.”
To prove his words, he shifted back down her body to reach the tip of her left breast. He kissed the stiff point, nuzzling it, then watched her eyes widen. Leaning back slightly, he took the tip into his mouth and sucked hard. Even through the worn night-rail he could feel the changes, signaling the depth of her arousal. As the tiny bud jutted more, he raked the edge of his teeth over the sensitive flesh, pushing her responses higher.
Giving rein to the wildness pulsing within him, he took hold of the garment and ripped it from the neck down to her belly. Her full breasts lay bare before him, the deep shadows flowing around their perfection. Her breasts grew tighter, heavier, evidence of her deep desire for him; the dusky areolas rouched, pushing the nipples into tight nubbins. In stunned awe, he uttered, “Oh...so...beautiful.”
Setting his hands around her neck, his thumbs lightly stroked along the column of her throat, moving downward. Skena sucked in a ragged breath of anticipation, knowing where the path his hands were taking would end. They slid across her square, proud shoulders and finally to the upper slopes of her smooth breasts. Once again, she drew in breath sharply, her spine arching, almost as if offering the pale mounds to him in a silent plea.
“You wish something, Skena?” he tormented.
She swallowed hard and then nodded. “Touch me. Put your hands on me.”
He smiled deviously, then leaned to her and touched his mouth against hers, then asked, “My hands? Or my mouth?”
“Either...both.” She nearly trembled with the need clawing its way through her body.
“I intend to grant all your wishes, my lady.” His tongue swirled out around the stiff peak. In response she shivered and then closed her eyes, obviously riding the crest of the conflagration he set loose within her flesh. He drew heavily upon it, sucking until her breath was harsh, raspy. Before moving to the other one to give it the same attention, he commanded, “Open your eyes, Skena. I want to share this joining with you, see the emotions reflected in your haunting depths.”
Her long lashes raised, showing her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. The warmth in her gaze bespoke of love, of a soul deep need for him, almost as if her mind reached out and touched his, whispering to him with this Kenning.
He had not considered that until now. When his wound had been lanced, he had invited her to walk in his mind. Would that ability increase the pleasure threshold for her, as she could also feel what he experienced? The possibility was tantalizing.
His lips closed over hers once more. Slanting his angle, he worked her mouth, giving her those lessons of pleasure, how enjoyable it would be between them. His control shattered as the kisses went on. And on. Noel felt a low moan echo within his chest, then another, yet was unsure if the second sound came from him or Skena―little cared as he kept kissing her, she kissing him. Her hand came up and fisted in the wavy hair at the back of his neck, as if she needed an anchor not to be swept away on the storm of emotions.
Heat rolled off their flesh, blistering them, as the kiss deepened, more demanding. His tongue pressed along the seam of her lips, compelling her to open for him. Skena’s body flexed in shock, then longing, as she quickly learned the rhythm, the play.
Leaving them both breathless, his mouth moved along her jaw, then down the side of her neck, pausing to lave his tongue against the spot where her pulse jumped in a pagan rhythm. A tattoo as old as time. Her heart slammed against her ribs, the force felt against his chest. The power of this magic between them was beyond measure.
Sliding down the bed, he dragged her under him, his solid weight pressing her into the soft feathered bedding. Her body conformed to his solid planes, rounded softness meeting his hardness in perfection. He was heavy, he knew, yet she seemed to want the sensation, the total surrender.
For an instant out of time, he paused to stare at her face. Then, his fingers splayed over her belly and then snaked lower to shift through soft curls at the apex of her thighs. Damp from her body’s desire. Preparing her for his invasion. Kissing her, he moaned as he slid a finger into her, then two, then her hips bucked in reaction as he stretched her body.
Almost echoes of the dream.
“Please...” She seemed unable to gasp anything further.
Taking Skena’s hands, he interlaced his fingers with hers and pushed them up beside her head, while aligning his body to hers. His throbbing erection nudged against her opening, moistening the tip with the silken honey flowing from her body.
He tried to speak, but found the muscles of his throat would hardly work. “Look into my eyes, Skena,” he ordered, his voice rough. “You are my wish. I want you to see my face as I join with you.”
His male hardness stretched her. Both agony and ecstasy, he pushed into her scalding heat. The fullness caused her to take short breaths, so he kissed her over and over, easing her mind until her body accepted his blunt presence within her. Slowly, she relaxed, and her slick channel allowed him to slide in even deeper.
“Fire magic,” she gasped. “You burn me, indeed.”
“’Tis only the start, lass.”
Lifting his hips, his swollen flesh stroked inside her again, going even deeper. Each thrust strengthened, quickened. Her hands clung to his back, her fingernails biting into the flesh of his shoulders. Then, clinging did not seem enough. Skena picked up his rhythm, arching to meet his frenzied thrusts. Their mating grew as wild and furious as a summer storm.
Skena cried out at the same instant that Noel’s body exploded into a thousand white-hot cinders, nearly blinding his vision. Grabbing her tighter, he held her in the maelstrom of their passion.
It took many labored breaths before the racing of his heart slowed. To her surprise, he rolled again taking her with him, until she was sitting astride his hips. He laughed at her befuddled expression.
“Noel, your back?” she fretted.
“At this moment I feel little other than the need of you.” He smiled as Skena blinked, confused until his hips bucked. “Ride me.”
His sensual mouth curved into a grin as he pushed upward within her again, and it caused Skena to reach her pleasure that quickly.
“Och...” She shuddered. “’Tis like...shooting stars in my mind. Have...mercy.”
Her internal muscles rippled along the length of his flesh, fisted about him. “Ah, sweet mercy,” he agreed.
But mercy was not what he had in mind. He reared up and wrapped his arms about her back, driving relentlessly into her again and again, each explosion building into another. His back bowed, his body slamming against hers, harder, more frantic, until she could only obey his command and follow him into the dark maelstrom.
Skena held back nothing, yielded everything to him. It was not enough. He demanded more, and she gave. He wanted her physical release...but he wanted to burn her heart, to brand her. Dark words of love he whispered to her, weaving his own magic.
He kissed her. No gentle kiss of worship, this one full of the passion, born of the fire of their coming together. Skena wanted to burn. And burn her, he did!
The perfection of being within her, knowing their joining was done with love, moved Noel so profoundly that he could hardly draw air.
He rained kisses over her face, gasping. “Oh, sweet Skena, I love you...”