Denise Lynn Read online

  With a low growl he rose, tearing off his clothing at the same time.

  But instead of coming over her, he grabbed her hips to flip her over and up on to her knees.

  Lea lowered her forehead to the bed and moaned. The sweet torment was far from over. As if he'd read her mind and knew she'd longed for all of him, Jared would fulfil that wish.

  He came into her hard and swift, dragging a gasp of welcome from her as he took his own pleasure, sought his own release while coaxing hers back to life.

  He lifted her, pulling her back against his chest, giving him easy access to her body—an access he made full use of.

  His lips against the soft flesh beneath her ear rippled shivers down her spine. The sensitive tips of her breasts pebbled, hardening beneath his touch. Her stomach quivered beneath the palm of his hand as it slid lower to cup, then to tease between her legs.

  Lea clung to his forearms for support. No amount of begging would stop him this time. If his control was as strong as it was before, she would be limp as a rag before Jared stopped his caresses and found his own release. And that wouldn't happen until she voiced a surrender.

  It was a game—one they both enjoyed. She could think of no pleasure greater than the times she'd been the one to make him lose his tight rein, shouting his surrender and pleading with her to cease.

  Now—Lea sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder— now with him filling her, stretching her, she wasn't at all certain she'd be able to withhold a scream of surrender for long.

  But until then, she would revel in his attention, because she doubted if she'd ever enjoy such pleasure again.

  As her stomach clenched and thighs trembled uncontrollably, Lea dug her nails into Jared's arms.

  Much as she'd love to test his endurance, hers was nearly at an end. And she'd suddenly remembered they hadn't bolted the door.

  With one final caress of her breast, he slid a hand over her mouth, whispering hoarsely, 'I've got you.' Unable to catch her cries with his own lips, he'd stop the entire keep from hearing her with his palm.

  Fulfilment teased her, beckoning her to the edge, only to retreat, over and over until her heart pounded in her ears, and her body begged for air.

  Then standing at the edge, when she thought it would once again dance away, a cry tore from her as she fell into its dizzying heat.

  Jared held her tighdy, his lips at her neck, his body working in rhythm with hers until she fell lax against him. Lowering his hand to caress her stomach, he asked, 'Enough?'

  Lea laughed weakly. Unable to draw in enough air to speak, she nodded.

  He let her upper body fall to the bed, and with a driving need found his own release.

  Jared fell easily on top of her, threading his fingers through hers; he kissed the back of her neck before rolling to his side, dragging her along.

  Lea curled against his chest, tears sdnging her eyes. His embrace was far too soothing, his strength near intoxicating. She swallowed hard, fighting to still her suddenly shaking limbs as she realised her vulnerability. Reluctantly, she unwound her hands from his, prepared to roll away.

  But he only wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. 'No. Stay.'

  The deep, almost gende tone of his voice concerned her. This closeness was dangerous. His worry, his fear for her had been dangerous enough in itself, but this—this testing of control, this open sharing, could be even more dangerous.

  Especially if her fears proved true.

  'Jared, please, let me go.'

  He brushed a hand along her shoulder and down her trembling arm. 'What is wrong?'

  Lea shuddered. It had been easier, safer, when he hated her, when he didn't care what happened to her and when he hadn't remembered how satisfying their love play could prove.

  She didn't want either one of them to be hurt again. In the end, that's all that would happen. They could never wed. She would never marry a man who was warrior first, and husband last. He would never marry a woman who couldn't accept what he was.

  And as sweet as the idea might be at this moment, being nothing more than lovers was unacceptable. Eventually people would discover their secret; while neither one of them would admit their shame or guilt, it would always be there.

  How could she chase him back to yesterday—to when he still thought it best they stay away from each other after this? Lea hated the thought of what it would take to achieve that goal. She could see no other way than to enrage him. At least making Jared angry wouldn't endanger her life—

  only her heart.

  She pulled his arm from around her and moved away. 'I am fine now. You performed your task for the empress successfully. Now go. Leave me be.'

  'I think I performed another task successfully.' His voice was still light, bordering on playful.

  'That was a mistake that never should have happened. I was frightened, upset and you sought to calm my fears.' Lea gritted her teeth, hoping it would lend a hint of steel to her tone. 'And you know full well that was not the task to which I referred.'

  He rolled on to his back. 'Is that the only reason you think I helped you—because of my duty to Empress Madlda?'

  'Isn't it? Honour and duty are all to you. Rest assured both are still intact.'

  Jared stared at the ceiling, trying to calm his anger at her insistence this had been a mistake. He ignored that, and focused instead on her emotional tone. Lea's voice had turned cold, her words clipped. She'd gone from fulfilled to disdainful in the blink of an eye. While moodiness wasn't normal for her, it wasn't unheard of either. But this abrupt change wasn't anywhere near normal.

  Something was wrong and he didn't think it had anything to do with Villaire or Blackstone.

  'You speak nonsense because you are upset.'

  'I am not upset and I am not speaking nonsense. Your honour and duty always come first.'

  He had the impression that she was only looking for an argument to avoid whatever was bothering her. He wasn't about to make it that easy for her. 'Of course they do. What sort of man would I be if they didn't?'

  'Did you satisfy your honour by killing Villaire?'

  He reached over and toyed with a lock of her hair. 'Would that anger you if I had?'

  'You didn't?' She sounded surprised.

  'Of course not. I have more self-control than to let some greedy braggart goad me into murder.'

  Although the idea had tempted him gready.

  'So, he's still here?'

  Her choked, breathless question prompted him to ease her fears on that. 'No, Lea, I had him and Blackstone escorted to the border of Montreau.'

  'They'll be back.'

  'If they're foolish enough to return, then I will kill them.' And he'd do so without remorse.

  'You'd start a war between Montreau and Stephen.'

  'Then choose a side, Lea. Stop this nonsense and take a stand.'

  She sat up quickly. 'No!'

  Jared silendy cursed himself; he should have known better than to broach that topic—even if it was how he honestly felt.

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. 'I was only goading you.'

  When she lay back down, he grasped her hand, stroking his thumb across the top. 'What is wrong, Lea?'

  'Nothing.'

  He tightened his hold when she tried to tug her hand free. 'You might get a stranger to believe that, but I am no stranger. Tell me what is wrong.'

  She was silent for several minutes. Then, she softiy said, 'This is too dangerous.'

  He turned on his side and stroked her cheek, wanting to know what she was thinking. 'For who, Lea? How is this dangerous?'

  'For me. For you.' She looked over at him. 'We share no love, no tender feelings of any kind, nothing is left except mistrust, dislike and—this.'

  If he could trust what he saw in the clearness of her gaze, she believed what she said was true and he didn't disagree. But something, some niggling doubt in the back of his mind, warned him that lack of feelings wasn't the only thing bothering her.r />
  'What do you want me to do?'

  She sighed. 'You were right before. We should just stay away from each other. It was the best for both of us.'

  He wasn't going to argue with her now. Not when he wasn't at all certain she was wrong. Perhaps it was for the best. He needed time to think and that would be impossible in this bed.

  Jared rose and quickly dressed. He paused alongside the bed. When Lea turned her face away, he caught the glimmer of a tear and reached down to wipe it from her cheek before leaving the chamber.

  Chapter Ten

  Jared stared up at the ceiling of his own chamber. It was strange, but this bed hadn't seemed so large—or empty—before now.

  When Matilda had first ordered him to Montreau all he could think of was the satisfying taste of revenge. He'd wanted Lea to hurt, to know the feel of pain and rejection. The idea of using her, then walking away without a backward glance had consumed him.

  He'd relived her horrified reaction and his satisfaction over and over in his mind until the feelings were nearly real.

  Now, the taste of vengeance was bitter; the hot rush of satisfaction had somehow turned cold.

  He didn't love her. How could he? Not even in his wildest dreams could he be deluded enough to believe that could ever happen.

  However, she was right—they did share one thing in common: their lust for each other.

  For how many centuries had young men been told not to trust lust? It wasn't real, nor would it last. Lust was nothing upon which to build a marriage. Even his own father had warned him to be on guard for the day some beauty would turn his mind to gruel and his thoughts to stark desire.

  Maybe so. But then, who was his father to talk? The man had been trapped in one night by a love spell that seemingly had woven lust into a lifetime of love.

  And Jared couldn't deny the simple fact that he'd found Lea desirable from the first moment he'd seen her nearly ten years ago. The anger, the outrage, the hurt hadn't changed that attraction.

  He tossed and turned on the bed, knowing there would be no sleep this night unless he figured out what to do, what he wanted, how to make this uncertainty go away.

  A part of him, the embittered part of his heart that hadn't gained any wisdom through the years, still wanted her to suffer. She deserved some form of repayment, but what?

  What would make her life the most miserable?

  Even if he knew what that one thing was, and if by some stroke of fate he could figure out how to formulate and enact such a plan, could he go through with it? How would he live with himself afterwards?

  The door to his chamber banged open. 'My lord!'

  Jared's stomach clenched. Rolfe never barged into his chamber, or used that tight, worried tone of voice unless his news was something dire.

  Certain the keep was under attack, he lunged from the bed, tugging on his clothes as he approached Rolfe. 'What is it?'

  'One of the longships is on fire.'

  'On fire?'

  Jared could hardly believe that was true. It had rained for days. The wooden vessels should have been soaked through. The only way someone could have kept a fire burning would have been to use something like grease, lard or fat to keep the blaze going.

  To him this was worse than Montreau being under attack. He'd made his fortune from his fleet.

  The longships were just as important to him and Warehaven as the cargo vessels.

  The profit from cargo—transportation of humans and goods —was great, but the benefit of the longships was innumerable. They permitted him to slip in and out of enemy shores without being spotted. And they were fast enough to make a quick escape the few times they had been seen.

  Jared ran from the chamber, cursing.

  How in God's name had someone gained access to his ships long enough for this to happen?

  Without pausing or turning to look at Rolfe as he raced down the stairs, Jared shouted, 'What happened? Who was on watch?'

  'I don't know what happened. Timothy and Samuel are dead.'

  Jared groaned. Marta would be inconsolable at the loss of both sons.

  'How?'

  'Arrows. Red arrows.'

  Damn. How had that murdering bloodthirsty witch and her crew of harpies found him? Jared knew of only one person who took the time to make certain her weapons were easily identified.

  Princess Cassandra of Beille Isle had been a thorn in his side since she'd run away from her father, King Ivan, to take up piracy late last year.

  He was certain there was a story behind her decision, and he'd been curious until the first time she'd attacked him. Now, he no longer cared what caused her to leave her father's casde, or why she'd become a pirate. He'd leave the wondering and caring to someone else.

  There'd been pirates roaming the seas since the first ship carrying anything of value had left its harbour. But Jared couldn't think of anything that boded more ill for every ship or boat afloat than an angry female warrior terrorising the water.

  He'd be glad to put an end to the wench's activities. Unfortunately, her father wanted her back alive. Jared had thought Lea was more than he could handle at times. She was nothing compared to this wench. He didn't envy the king.

  He slammed through the hall, booting sleeping guards awake, ordering, 'To arms.'

  The men jumped to their feet, stumbling quickly into clothes, grabbing weapons to follow him out into the bailey.

  Jared was relieved to find a handful of horses ready and waiting. An extra sword, bow and brace of arrows already secured to the saddle of his animal.

  Before spurring the beast, he said, 'Rolfe, gather as many men as you can, ours and Montreau's.'

  Certain his man would do as ordered and join him soon, Jared turned the horse towards the gates.

  He led out the men already mounted to save what he could of his longships. With any luck that pirate whore would still be around. If so, he'd try his best not to kill her, but at this moment he couldn't guarantee anything.

  The horses' hooves quickly covered the clearing to reach the thin line of wooded area that rimmed the cliffs. Tree branches tore at his face, bushes and bramble snagged at his booted feet.

  For the most part he ignored the minor annoyances, keeping his head down as he urged the beast beneath him faster.

  Cuts and scratches could be cleaned and stitched if need be later. His ships couldn't wait. Fire would eat up his wooden vessels like a starving wolf devours an unaware deer.

  The vision of his dragon prows being engulfed in flames made him ill. Over the last seven years they'd become the children he'd never thought to have. He cared for them as well as he cared for his horse and weapons.

  Jared was dismounting the instant his horse broke into the open strip of land at the edge of the cliff. Before the beast ceased its frandc rearing and prancing, he pulled his extra weapons free, tossed the reins to his waiting squire and skidded down the embankment. He came to a heart-wrenching stop at the bottom of the hill.

  Against a backdrop of damp, thick fog, flames engulfed his amethyst longship. 'Damn you to hell, Cassandra!' The curse tore from his throat.

  In answer to his curse, a laugh, long and shrill, cut through the fog, echoing across the bay.

  Finally, the maniacal laughter stopped. 'Hail, Warehaven. It seems fire is eating your dragon.'

  'One day you will pay!' Rage reverberated through his words, shaking him from head to toe.

  She laughed again. 'You aren't my type, love.'

  The splashing sound of oars hitting the water let him know that she and her crew were leaving.

  Jared turned his attention back to his ships. The orange, red and yellow flames jumped from the amethyst ship, reaching for the sapphire one like a hungiy predator. His men skidded to a stop behind him, their drawn swords in one hand, a bucket in the other.

  'Unlash the ships,' Jared shouted his order.

  Like a fool, he'd thought Montreau's neutrality would keep his vessels relatively safe. So, after dragging them acro
ss logs to the beach, they'd been lashed together as a precaution against one being easily stolen. Now it appeared that mistake would see all three ships ablaze.

  Some of the men worked at the lashes, dodging flames and cursing as embers rained down on them. The others worked with Jared to push and drag the remaining two vessels to the safety of the water.

  Once the oars were manned, to keep the ships in the bay, the remaining men rushed to help put out the fire.

  Jared feared it was a lost cause. The ship was nearly consumed in flames. He watched the dragon prow disappear in the midst of the fire. Finally, he ordered, 'Cease.'

  There was no sense in having the men continue their fruitiess attempt to douse the fire. Even though he gave the men leave to return to the keep, a dozen or so remained behind on the beach.

  His own men remaining was understandable since the ships were their livelihood, too. Those from Montreau surprised him a little, but he'd not question their motives. He had enough questions swimming around in his head about his own life to concern himself with another man's reasons.

  Jared perched atop a boulder to stare into the fire. Too bad it couldn't show him what to do with Lea. Such a stunt had worked for his mother, or so she claimed; the flames had somehow shown her his father.

  Rolfe joined him. 'I should have stayed to keep the flames under control.'

  The dejected look on the man's face and the sombre tone of his voice spoke of his sincerity. This wasn't his fault and Jared would not have the man thinking such a thing.

  'And who would have brought me word had you done so?' Jared picked up a stone and tossed it towards the water. 'You couldn't have done anything by yourself.'

  'Maybe. But what are you going to do about Princess Cassandra? She certainly has it in for you.'

  Jared ignored the underlacing of humour apparent in Rolfe's words. Especially since he agreed—

  Cassandra of Beille Isle did seem to enjoy targeting ships from Warehaven.

  'I can't do anything right now. Not until Matilda releases us from Montreau.'

  'Have you figured out why she sent you here to begin with?'

  'No. Who knows what my aunt is planning behind the scenes?'