Dragon's Knight, page 20
The next day, Aislynn was more restless, as with her returning strength came a deeper and deeper understanding of how much it would hurt when Jarrod was no longer in her life. Her sadness at this was brought sharply to life when Jarrod accompanied her father when he came to see her in the late afternoon.
On seeing him hesitate there in the doorway while her father came forward, Aislynn ran an unsteady hand over the skirt of the gown of rich blue samite Aida had brought to her. Though it was slightly large and had obviously been shortened especially for her, she was glad to be up and dressed.
As Jarrod then approached her where she sat in the chair before the fire, Aislynn realized that this was the first time she had been near him since realizing she loved him. And that realization had left her achingly vulnerable to the yearning inside her. Her pulse quickened, as did her breathing, and her heart beat so loudly she felt he would surely hear it. She could not prevent her eager gaze from focusing on each beloved feature with heightened intensity. Nor could she stop herself from watching each movement of those strong but supple hands that had touched her, awakened her, nor each movement of that lean, muscular body that had joined to her own with such passionate abandon.
The only thing she could be grateful for was that neither her father nor Jarrod himself seemed to note her reactions. Her father moved to run a gentle hand over her unbound hair as he bent to kiss her brow. His earnest gaze searched hers. “You seem stronger, dearling.”
Still utterly aware of Jarrod, where he had come to halt at her other side, she swallowed hard. “I am, Father. I would be up and about the keep if ’twere not for the healing woman. She does insist that I must not overdo.”
Jarrod said softly, “It is good to see you doing so well, Aislynn.”
Her gaze skittered to his and away. “It is thanks to you that I am. You saved my life by bringing me to Kewstoke.”
He seemed to tense. “It would not have been necessary had I not placed you in danger at the outset.”
Her father patted her hand. “There is no need to berate yourself, Jarrod. We will not have it. Aislynn will be fine.”
He exhaled sharply. “But it has all been for naught as we still have no idea of where Christian might be.” He reached into his sleeve and drew out a roll of parchment. Instantly Aislynn knew what it was as he held it out to her. She carefully avoided touching him as she took it. “I wanted to return this to you.”
Aislynn nodded. “Thank you.” Then as her father leaned close to look at it, she spread the drawing wide. There again was the young woman from Ashcroft.
Her father frowned. “She is indeed lovely.” He leaned closer. “There again is the dragon, just as in the rendering of the soldier from Dragonwick.”
Aislynn, aware of Jarrod as she was, felt him stiffen. Looking into his face, she saw dawning comprehension as he said, “Why did I not see it before? Dragonwick is the key here, though I do not know what it might be. With Kelsey in power at Dragon-wick, Christian would never go there. But he could get near by going to its closest neighbor. Christian has gone to Avington. He could not have arrived long after I left there.”
As he said the words, Aislynn knew they were true. For whatever incomprehensible reason, Christian had taken this woman to Avington. She whispered, “Then we too must go to Avington.”
Her father rubbed a hand over his brow. “Aye, but not until you are well enough to travel.”
She caught his hand. “I am much stronger.”
Jarrod spoke sharply. “Your father is right in this, Aislynn. You have been very ill.”
Frustration made her want to argue, but she knew they would not heed her. Thus she said, “Then we must be ready to depart as soon as I am, for I know ’twill not be long, perhaps even on the morrow. I grow stronger by the hour.”
The skepticism on their faces was obvious. But Aislynn turned to her father, insisting, “You will make ready?”
With a soothing smile, he said, “Of a certainty, my love. We are as eager as you to see your brother and discover what he has been about, to return to Bransbury and our lives.”
Abruptly Jarrod stood, bowing. “I will leave you to your own conversation. I will begin to make preparations for the journey as Aislynn wishes. I too am eager to see this matter settled.” He raked a quick and distant glance over them both before turning toward the door.
Aislynn was stung by his sudden coolness. Feeling many times a fool for her preoccupation with him, she nonetheless watched him as he moved to the door with the fluid grace that was so much a part of him. That was why she noted the fact that when he reached it he paused, looking back toward them.
What she saw in his dark, depthless gaze made her heart stop. For there was no mistaking the naked desire in those black eyes. And then he was gone.
Aislynn closed her eyes, no longer hearing her father’s voice, no longer knowing anything but the fact that in spite of everything, Jarrod still desired her.
“Aislynn.”
She looked into her father’s worried gaze, as he said, “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, noting that he was not looking at her but at the doorway where Jarrod had been standing. Blushing, Aislynn forced herself to meet him with a smile as he turned back to her. She said, “Nay, I was just thinking that Sir Jarrod has been so kind to us and that I am grateful. He certainly should not blame himself for what happened.”
He nodded, seeming to accept this explanation easily enough, but as they continued to talk, Aislynn saw him glance toward the door with a thoughtful expression. Deliberately she ignored this, determined to avoid any conversation that included answering questions about herself and Jarrod.
There was no need for her father to know what had happened between them. He would certainly feel that Jarrod should do the right thing—marry her.
No matter how the thought of marriage to Jarrod, having a family, children with him made her heart swell, she had no such expectations. She knew how he felt about his freedom.
Yet she also now knew that he desired her, as she did him. And that fact was of great significance to her.
Very great indeed.
The castle had long since grown quiet when Aislynn crept from her chamber. She moved, with unerring purpose, down the hall to the room the woman who had come to tend her fire had indicated was Jarrod’s.
Aislynn knew what she was about. She loved Jarrod Maxwell and if she could not have him for life, she would take what little she could with her into the long, lonely years ahead.
After seeing his face in that one unguarded moment, Aislynn could allow herself to believe he would not send her away. When she reached his door, Aislynn did not hesitate to knock. She was too aware of how fragile was her courage. She turned the latch and the door swung open on silent hinges.
Her gaze went immediately to Jarrod where he sat on a stool beside the low burning hearth. He looked up, seeing her as he rose. “Aislynn.”
She faced him directly, her gaze unwavering as she took in the fact that he wore naught but a pair of dark-colored hose that molded to his slender hips and emphasized the bronze expanse of his shoulders and smooth chest. “Jarrod.” Their eyes met and held and that now familiar awareness passed between them, making her stomach tighten.
He ran obviously unsteady hands over his thighs, drawing her gaze to their muscular length. “Why have you come?”
She did not hesitate. “Methinks you already know the answer to that question.”
He sucked in a quick breath of surprise at her directness. At the same time she noted that his lids flicked and became hooded above those exotic eyes as his gaze slid over her, obviously taking in the fact that she wore nothing beneath her fine white shift.
Jarrod did know the answer to that question. Had he not, the stirring in his own blood as he looked at her, clad only in that diaphanous white gown, her pale hair falling about her in a flowing curtain, would have told him.
Aislynn moved forward and carefully placed her candle on the table near him. He saw that her hand was steady, as was her gaze. He was very aware that her calm was at direct odds with his own demeanor. He could not deny the trembling in his body as she then came to stand in front of him.
Jarrod swallowed hard as his eyes moved over her lovely face. He now saw the heightened color along those high cheekbones, the flutter of her pulse at her throat as she raised her head to look up at him. Those two subtle signs told him she was not as unmoved as it had appeared.
Yet as his gaze met hers again he was altogether certain that her agitation was not brought on by nervousness, but by something deeper that was more stirring to his own blood.
Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Would you have me stay?”
Would he have her stay? The very thought made his heart thrum, his breath quicken. She was so beautiful. The perfect contours of her form were not truly concealed by the gown, only tantalizingly veiled in hints of light and shadow. His body ached with the images her words conjured up. For he knew intimately how lovely she was, how soft the flesh that covered the curves and plains of her body.
Again Jarrod swallowed, knowing that he wanted what she offered more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. His realization that Christian would be at Avington had made him understand that it would soon be over. Aislynn would be out of his life forever, for he knew he could never go to Bransbury again and see her with her noble lord husband. He held out his arms, for there was naught else he could do.
Aislynn went into his arms, only realizing as he held them out to her how very afraid she had been that he might turn her away. Her relief that he did not do so left her limp and weak in his embrace.
But only for the space of a heartbeat. Closing her eyes, she lifted her face with a sigh of longing.
Jarrod’s mouth found hers, his lips supple and warm, igniting a flame that raced through her and made her breath quicken. She raised her arms to hold his head down to her, standing up on tiptoe as she fitted her body to the hard length of his.
When his hands moved down her back to settle on her hips, she moaned, her body arching into his. She felt the hardness of him against her belly with a thrill of anticipation.
Unlike the first time they had made love, Aislynn knew exactly whence they were headed in this dance of desire. She stepped backward, looking into his eyes, taking his large hand in her own trembling one and backing toward the bed.
Jarrod stopped her, his breath hot on her ear as he whispered, “Nay, my eager beauty, do not rush. Let me touch you.”
She shivered with delicious anticipation, closing her eyes as a wave of heat raced through her. Then she opened them again as she felt herself being turned in his arms.
“Do not go from…” she cried, then subsided as she felt him press her back against the firmness of his body.
He drew her gown up the length of her body, slowly gathering it into his hands, baring her to the heat of the fire. And as he did so, Aislynn felt as if that warmth was an extension of his hands, his mouth, delicate but erotic on her skin. When he had raised it to the height of her breast, she sighed and lifted her arms, her breathing shallow and quick as he passed the garment over her head, then tossed it to the floor.
Completely naked now, her breath halted. She ran her tongue over her suddenly parched lips as he drew her back against him, his palms on the flat plane of her belly.
“I want to touch you,” he told her, his mouth against her ear, the heat of his breath warming her.
Jarrod put his warm hands over her hips and slowly began to trace them up her sides. She sucked in a breath of pleasure and expectation, her stomach quivering. When his hands at last closed over her breasts, she moaned aloud, sagging back against the wall of his chest as his thumbs found her already erect nipples.
Gently he plied her breasts with his two large, warm hands, circling, squeezing gently, his thumbs applying just the right amount of pressure to those yearning tips. Thick sweet honey spread from those two sensitive points, seeping through her body to form a delicious pool of delight in her lower belly. When his hand slid down again, tracing over her ribs, the flat surface of her stomach, then paused in the nest of golden curls at the joining of her thighs, she held her breath. But as his fingers slipped into the scorching damp of her, Aislynn gasped aloud, her knees buckling. She only managed to stay upright because she could not bear for the pleasure to stop.
Jarrod groaned, his half-open mouth finding the line of her jaw and lower along her throat. Her head fell backward on his chest, allowing him better access to that tender flesh. He was completely and utterly consumed by the heat in his own body, and the feel, taste and delicate rose scent of Aislynn.
Aislynn wanted, needed more of him. Without conscious thought she rubbed her bottom against his hardness and heard him utter a ragged gasp. A wave of sheer sensuality rose up inside her and she pressed back into him again.
Jarrod was aching, dying for her, and before he had even begun to enjoy her as he wished to. The unadulterated joy with which she took and gave pleasure drove him mad with need and an undeniable wonder.
Never in his years had he met such a woman, a woman who was unaffected in the joy in the sensuous delights of her body. His own pleasure was heightened by hers.
Aislynn’s body ached, throbbed, with the thrill of his touch. But she was not ready to give in to the pounding of her blood. She turned in his arms, feeling a need to touch him, to bring him to the same level of desire that raced through her own veins.
As she looked at him, the dark and wondrous male beauty of him, Aislynn was overcome with a feeling of tenderness that made her heart ache. How dear and beloved he was to her. Would that she could take away all the hurts he had known in his life, heal the heart that knew not how to love.
But she could not do so, and all she had was this moment, a moment that must last her a lifetime. She raised trembling hands to slide them along his belly and he sucked in a gasping breath. She looked up at him, saw the fire that lit the depths of his black eyes and leaned forward to place her lips where her hands had been.
His fingers tangled in the heavy fall of her hair as she kissed his belly, her lips soft, sensuous, and shockingly confident on his flesh. When they closed over one of his hard nipples, he groaned and gently but firmly pulled her away, then bent to kiss her perfect rosy mouth.
He kissed her until his own head was spinning, his body aching with need.
Jarrod knew he could wait no more. He picked her up and moved toward the bed, his eyes on hers, seeing the raw need in those periwinkle eyes, eyes that had haunted him from the first moment he’d looked into them.
Aislynn continued to hold his gaze as he lay her back against the pillows.
When he ran a hand down her bare side, she shivered, her lids drooping, her mouth parting with the quickness of her breath. His voice was husky with passion as he said, “You are loveliness itself, Aislynn. You leave me with nothing but insignificant words to describe what is too beautiful for mere words.”
She took his hand and raised it to her left breast. “My heart beats like a battle drum from the very sight of you.”
He groaned and dipped his head to suckle at the very same breast. Now it was she who cried out with wanting. “Please, Jarrod, I want you so.”
He went into her arms, his body sliding along the length of her. Her flesh was like silk against his, their contours seeming to meld as he slipped between her slender, velvet thighs.
When she lifted her hips, he slid into her. Her body was so wet, yet seemed to grasp him with an agonizingly sweet pressure. The sensation was indescribably pleasurable, making him close his eyes as he cried out, reveling in the sheer intensity of it as it rippled through his body.
Aislynn was afire with the sensations engendered by the joining of their heated flesh. To hear the hoarse sound of his voice and know that he was driven so far beyond himself because of her sent yet another wave of need coursing through her.
No matter what might come in the years ahead, she would have his reactions to remind her that once he had lost himself in her—Aislynn. She listened to the shallowness of his breathing as she moved beneath him, deliberately drawing him as deeply into herself as she could before withdrawing again.
And as she did so her own pleasure deepened, spiraling higher and higher toward the pinnacle that only Jarrod could take her to.
He stiffened above her, his face beautiful as the power of his passion took him, and she too ascended to the peak of unutterable ecstasy, dissolving in a shower of radiant light. Even before the delight had completely eased, she reached out to hold him to her.
He pushed back, rolling to the side, putting out his hand to brush the hair away from her face in a gesture so tender it made her heart ache. She looked into those black eyes. They were lit with a gentleness that was even more moving than his touch.
She allowed her gaze to move over his face, so exotic and yet so familiar at one and the same time. How was she ever to survive without him, to accept the reality of never seeing him again?
Her heart stopped then for one infinite moment at the renewed pain of her own thought. Jarrod was beloved indeed, more beloved than she had ever imagined any being could be.
Yet he did not love her. What she saw in those eyes was no more than the remnants of the passion they had shared.
She closed her eyes and a wave of exhaustion passed through her. As she felt it, she told herself that it did not help that she was still not quite fully recovered from her injuries. If only she could rest for just a moment, put aside the pain in her mind and heart. If only for…
Chapter Fourteen
Jarrod lay there holding her for some time, before he became aware of a gentle tapping at his chamber door. He was protectively aware of Aislynn’s presence beside him, her deep and rhythmic breathing. As soon as his passion had eased he had known that he should not allow her to remain here. She could not be found in his bed.
Silently but hurriedly he moved from the bed, realizing when the sound came again that it was not from the door that led to the hall, but the inner door, the one he believed connected to his brother’s chamber. Hastily he drew on his discarded hose.
