Dragon's Knight, page 12
Jarrod was on fire, his belly burning with wanting for this woman. He deepened their kisses, urging her to meet him, and she did. She returned his passion equally and more, holding his head to her with desperate hands.
She slanted her head, giving back measure for measure as he kissed her with breathless abandon. Aislynn was overcome with the fierce rush in her own blood as she reveled in the heat, and hardness, and warm, damp man-taste of him.
The increase in their passion brought with it a feeling of frustration. Jarrod wanted, needed, more of her.
Jarrod broke away from her, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck. She tipped her head back, granting him free access to that tender flesh.
Breathing heavily, his blood pulsing, Jarrod drew back to look at her in the soft evening light from the open window. He saw the heaviness of her lids, the wanting in those eyes that had now darkened to indigo, the mouth that was swollen from his kisses. His gaze dipped lower to where the peaks of her breasts showed dusky rose beneath the fabric of her garment.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. “So lovely.”
His words sent a new ripple of pleasure through her and her voice was a hoarse whisper of longing. “Jarrod.”
Overcome with a feeling of tenderness and desire so intense that it weakened him, Jarrod could only breathe her name into the silky curtain of her hair. “Aislynn.”
Aislynn reached for him, wanting nothing more than to continue kissing him, to be held against him. She wanted…
When he dipped his head and flicked his tongue over the peak of her breast, Aislynn gasped aloud, as a shaft of delight so intense it made the muscles clench in her thighs shot through her. Involuntarily her fingers twined into the hair at the base of his neck, pulling him more closely against her. His groan of pleasure only served to increase the sensations inside her, creating a sweet ache in her lower belly, spreading down to pool at the joining of her thighs.
And when he seemed to sense her feelings, reaching down to cup his palm over her there, where no man had ever touched her, the ache deepened, intensified, making her thighs clench. Aislynn heard her own hoarse voice cry out with an emotion so naked it rocked her, “Jarrod, I…oh, help me. I burn.”
Trembling with need at finding her so eager for him, Jarrod was powerless to halt the desire that drove him to answer her cry. Slowly he drew his hand away. With a gentleness born of sheer wonder at her responses to him, Jarrod picked her up. He marveled at her form, so light and delicate, yet womanly.
He kissed her as she raised her mouth to his, deeply, yearningly, even while he moved to the pallet on the floor. She held him to her as he lowered her down upon it, his head then dipping so that he could nuzzle the cloth of her shift from the tip of one turgid nipple. His mouth closed upon the naked, aching flesh and he groaned even as she reared up beneath him with a gasp of need.
His head reeling, his pulse pounding like a drum in his veins, Jarrod slowly realized he was hearing a sound, and that it was coming from outside himself.
For a moment, Jarrod could not reason what it could possibly be, his mind was so drugged with wanting for this woman. Then the pounding came again and, with it, a voice. “Lady Aislynn.”
Sir Ulrick.
Jarrod pushed away from Aislynn, taking in her dazed and disheveled state. The nipple he had just plied so gently was still damp from his caress.
As she blinked in confusion, the knight’s voice came again. “Lady Aislynn.”
Jarrod rubbed a hand across his heated brow, trying to wipe out the sight of her as he reached down to take the blanket from the floor where it had fallen. He tossed it to Aislynn. In his desperation to keep from revealing their madness to her father’s knight, to protect her from the censure such a revelation would bring, he whispered sharply, “Collect yourself.”
She moved to sit up, her eyes, which had moments ago been dark and damp with desire, now filled with hurt and betrayal. Turning her back to him, she pulled the blanket close about her. Regret made his already churning stomach spasm, but he gave no sign of it as he moved to the door.
Jarrod jerked the door open, frustration coloring his voice as he said, “You should not have left her alone.”
Sir Ulrick stiffened and Jarrod felt even more a fool for taking out his feelings on this man. He bowed, fully conscious of Aislynn, who moved to stand looking out the window. “Forgive me, I had no right to berate you I was only…”
The other man interrupted him, his expression grim now, “Pray have no care for that, Sir Jarrod. There is something you must hear. I have learned the identity of the knight who challenged you at the market.”
Aislynn swung around from her contemplation of the darkening sky. “Yes.”
Sir Ulrick addressed her directly. “The knight is one Sir Fredrick. He is in the employ of the Earl of Kelsey.”
“The Earl of Kelsey.” Jarrod took a step toward him, all other thoughts being driven from his mind by this name. He raised a hand to rake it through his thick hair. “God’s blood, but I should have run him through. According to Christian and Simon, it was he who mortally wounded the soldier Jack.”
He heard Aislynn’s sharply indrawn breath as she stepped to the forefront. “I was right to think he meant you harm.”
Jarrod took a deep breath, willing himself to think carefully, not to react to this revelation though his heart pounded with rage at the very thought of the blackguard’s temerity. But regret that he had missed this opportunity to do harm to Kelsey, who had destroyed the only home where Jarrod had felt he was more that an unwanted bastard, was so strong it burned in his gut. For no matter how many years had passed since Kelsey’s betrayal of The Dragon, Jarrod had never forgiven that loss, nor would he. The Dragon had taught him not only the ways of knighthood, but of true manhood. His voice was a ragged whisper. “God rot his immortal soul.”
Aislynn heard the rage in Jarrod’s voice, saw it reflected in his dark face, which seemed even more exotic and mysterious because of it. She realized that anyone who earned this man’s enmity was far from safe, but she knew too that the passion which drove that part of him also fueled his other passions—his desires.
And this only served to make her recall how close she had come to giving herself to him utterly and completely. The very thought made her face heat, for had not Ulrick come to the door…
Nay, she would not think on that. Jarrod would never have gone through with it. The very disgust on his face and in his voice when he’d thrown her the blanket told her that much. Why he had ever kissed her, touched her the way he had, she could not understand, nor did she see anything to be gained by understanding why when he so obviously regretted doing so.
She tried instead to concentrate on what she knew of the Earl of Kelsey and his dastardly deeds. She knew that he had betrayed his own brother to gain an earldom and that not only Jarrod but Christian and Simon hated him for it. It was their very desire to gain vengeance against the man that had nearly cost Simon Warleigh his life. That Simon’s forced marriage to Kelsey’s daughter had ended in becoming a love-match and Isabelle’s leaving her father’s influence, was none of the earl’s doing.
She noted that Jarrod rubbed the dragon brooch at his shoulder as he spoke through tight lips. “No wonder Sir Fredrick seemed uncommonly interested in this brooch. It marked me his enemy, for Simon had his own while at Dragonwick.” She was somewhat surprised and unexpectedly admiring when he drew himself up, visibly besting those feelings of rage as he went on. “I would dear love to see the man dead, but I will put this behind me, for the moment. We go to Scotland in the morn.”
In spite of all that had just passed between them, Aislynn faced him as if those passionate moments had never been. “Learning the knave’s identity has revealed the seriousness of the situation. You must not go without reporting this to the sheriff. I saw the hatred in his face. He will stop at nothing to do you ill.”
He frowned. “I require no man to see to justice on my behalf. When and if the time comes, pray God, I shall face Sir Fredrick head-on, and gladly.”
Seeing that he would not be swayed, she clamped her lips tightly shut. Jarrod was so certain that he would prevail, yet she could not help knowing that the boundless hatred that still burned in the recesses of his eyes was equally matched in the other knight.
He turned to Ulrick. “We will leave at first light.”
The knight looked at him. “Then you have learned some new information about the village we seek?”
Aislynn watched with surprise as Jarrod Maxwell actually blushed. “Aye, I have. If the directions given me are accurate, I believe we will be able to gain our destination before nightfall two days hence, if we make good speed.”
Aislynn saw Ulrick’s face light up with the relief she herself could feel. She did not even bother to question why Jarrod had not told her of this sooner. She knew why and her discomfiture compounded her inability to look at him directly. She said, “That is good news, indeed.” The older man then swung around to face Aislynn. “You must seek your rest, my lady, if you are to undertake another such day.”
Now that the rush of learning about Sir Fredrick had worn off, she was left with the pain and embarrassment of what had happened between her and Jarrod. It was impossible to look at him. Yet she must answer Sir Ulrick’s concern. “I will be happy to be put to the test for such a cause. And make no mistake, I will seek my rest immediately, as must you.”
She could feel the weight of Jarrod’s attention upon her, and calling on her own inner strength, she faced him no matter that doing so made her throat constrict with pain. “Good night, Sir Jarrod.”
He looked away. “Good night, my lady.” Without another word, he moved to the door and left them.
Now she could feel Sir Ulrick watching her, and she forced herself to also face him directly. “Good night.” To this he bowed and made his own way out.
As he left, she asked herself why should she not face him? Nothing had really happened!
And it would not happen again, for clearly Jarrod loved the woman Sadona had spoken of so deeply that he had no room for another in his life. Not that Aislynn wanted to be in his life!
Aislynn did her best to sleep, knowing as she did that, rustic as her accommodations might be, they were warmer and drier than the tent would be on ensuing nights. Slumber was some time in coming, but when it finally did, it was a deep and dreamless state of utter exhaustion, both emotionally and physically.
It was Ulrick’s voice at the chamber door that woke her. “My lady.”
Slowly Aislynn sat up, her gritty gaze taking in the fact that the light filtering in through the edges of the narrow shutters was dim. She called out, “I am awake.”
She rose as he moved away, and dressed in the gown she had laundered the previous afternoon. Covering herself in the enveloping amber velvet was, in a sense, like donning armor, for she’d felt too vulnerable in the shift that had proved little barrier to Jarrod’s questing hands and mouth. It was with some sense of renewed energy and confidence that she moved to leave the room.
No matter what Jarrod might do or say, she would somehow manage to hold her own. She did not require his approval, nor his passion. Least of all did she require his passion, she told herself as she moved to the stair. Yet the words did not quite ring true in her mind.
When she reached the bottom, Aislynn halted, hearing the sound of Jarrod’s voice as he finished off something he was saying with a rueful laugh.
Then came a voice that could only be Sadona’s. “She is a good enough sort—your lady. She has been most respectful of me though I am far beneath her.”
The harsh and quick reply stung more deeply than Aislynn would have thought possible, “She is not my lady.”
The rejoinder was almost too quick. “I see.”
Obviously all of Aislynn’s assurances had been for naught.
The woman’s tone was even enough, but Aislynn would have to be simple to miss the hint of knowing in it as she said, “As you say, Jarrod.” She paused then. “You will have a care with her. She could be easily hurt.”
It was much the same as Sadona had said of Jarrod.
A long pause ensued. Into it came Jarrod’s voice, toneless, giving away nothing. “I owe you much, Sadona, of affection and respect, but you know nothing of which you speak. Aislynn Greatham and I mean nothing to each other.”
The silence that followed was impossible to read, but Aislynn felt herself flush. Jarrod had said all there was to say. She meant nothing to him.
She drew back further into the shadows at the bottom of the stairs.
To her chagrin, Ulrick nearly collided with her as he came around the corner of the wall in preparation of going up the stairs. He halted. “My lady Aislynn. I was just coming to fetch you.”
Aislynn had no choice then but to move forward into the light.
Jarrod stood in the main chamber with Sadona. His darkly handsome face was an unreadable mask as he turned to them, and Ulrick told him, “I have readied the horses.”
Aislynn avoided looking into those black eyes as she preceded Ulrick. She looked instead to their hostess, though she was more than a little shamed at the way the two of them had spoken of her. She had no wish to appear anything but self-possessed. “Thank you for your kindness.”
The woman dipped a curtsy. “I am honored to have had such a fine and gentle lady as my guest.”
Only when Jarrod turned his back to say something to Ulrick, who had moved to stand beside him, did Aislynn look directly at him. She was amazed that, in spite of all, she still found him the most physically pleasing man she had ever looked upon. His raven hair was damp from a washing and had been combed straight back from his broad forehead. The dark cape he wore over his clothing only seemed to emphasize the width of those broad shoulders. Shoulders that she had clung to with such desperation and desire mere hours ago.
It was only by a sheer act of will that she forced herself not to turn away when Jarrod swung around to face her. The black eyes that had last night been so full of heat were now cold. “Are you ready, Aislynn?”
It was his coldness and the way he had spoken of her to Sadona rather than the pain of what could not be that made her throat tight. This realization enabled her to hold her head high as she preceded him from the inn.
Throughout that day the land they traveled through became more difficult to traverse. The rolling hills steepened, the streams and rivers rushed through the vales more forcefully.
The difficulty of riding made conversation near impossible. She didn’t believe Jarrod would have spoken to her even if it had not. That was fine with her, for she had wrapped a prideful silence about her that made it possible to go on, to hold her head high.
Yet as they rode on, Aislynn could not help wishing…wishing for things that she was afraid to even articulate in her mind.
Well after they had settled for the night, Aislynn lay looking up into the darkness. She wanted to believe it was the chill air on her cheeks that kept her awake.
She knew it was not.
Again she thought of what Jarrod had said to Sadona. Renewed resentment swept through her as it did each time she remembered his saying that she was nothing to him.
A groan of frustration escaped her. She could change nothing by repeatedly reliving the shame of it. Jarrod knew what he wanted. And that was not Aislynn.
Desperate to sleep, knowing that any sign of tiredness would be noted and disapproved come morning, Aislynn turned to face the wall of the tent. With determination she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into the pillow.
She opened them again almost instantly, seeing the faint glow of the fire through the tent wall. And with it an image of Jarrod’s darkly handsome face in her mind.
God’s blood, what was wrong with her? The man was not that compelling.
But she knew that was a lie. He had made her feel things she had never even dreamed of, brought her slumbering body to life and, no matter how she hated him, her body, traitor that it was, only continued to yearn for him.
Aislynn shivered with frustration, and with that shiver came a sudden realization that she had not answered the call of nature before going to bed, having been too concerned with getting away from the man who plagued her so. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she knew that she would not be able to rest until it was answered.
Yet the notion of going out into the wood by herself now, with the heavy weight of night pressing down upon her, was less than appealing. She had promised Jarrod that she would not venture off on her own, but that seemed a long time ago—a lifetime.
Surely he could not fault her for not waking him. She need only go behind the tent.
So thinking, Aislynn tossed the covers aside and stood. Shivering in the chill, she quickly drew her cape over her shoulders and stepped out into the night.
She was somewhat relieved to find that the fire actually did more to light the area than she would have imagined. Though it was dark all around them, the flames cast a gentle glow over the immediate area.
Aislynn listened to be certain the two men were asleep. She could hear no sounds from either of them. Feeling more confident with each passing moment, she moved around her tent, where the darkness was deeper, keeping the knowledge that the light was just a few steps away in the forefront of her mind.
Her task was completed quickly and quietly.
It was as she was rounding her tent in preparation of crawling back inside that she felt an odd prickling along her neck. Pausing, she cast a quick glance about the camp. A harsh gasp escaped her as her gaze came to rest on a face, a man’s face, peering out from behind the tree nearest to where Jarrod lay.
The moment the sound left her, the face disappeared back into the shadows.
Almost instantly Jarrod Maxwell rose up on his bedroll, his gaze pinning her. “What is it?”
