Midnight Eyes Page 12

  One of the fallen boxes even revealed a pile of valuable books that had been scattered carelessly over the stone floor; their jewel-encrusted leather covers gleaming in the light of his torch.

  “Mother of God!” he breathed out. “What the hell is all this stuff?”

  Her smile was both bright and brittle. “My life.” She let go of his hand and started to feel her way forward. Robert paused only to light a candle that had been placed in a holder near the door and put the makeshift torch into a wall sconce before following silently behind her.

  She touched one of the rolled tapestries and ran a shaky hand over the back of the tiny stitches.

  “What’s the design?”

  Her voice was quiet, and Robert could hear the pain that reverberated through it. He carefully placed the candle on a nearby box and dragged the tapestry off the stack. He clumsily unrolled it and gave it a shake, showering them both with a fine layer of dust. He looked carefully at the simple tapestry, uncomfortably aware that in normal circumstances he’d barely have noticed it.

  “It’s a forest scene of some sort.” He gave an awkward shrug. He’d never felt quite this inadequate before. “There is some kind of flower border. In the top right-hand corner there seems to be a group of hunters, and at the bottom a group of ladies and minstrels are feasting and they are being watched by an odd horse.”

  She ran her hand over the stitches, the picture rising from the darkness of her memories. “Not a horse; a unicorn. It hung in my father’s armory. Mother hated weapons of war in her home and would only tolerate them if the room could be made to look as little like an armory as possible.” A whisper of a smile filtered over her face. “When Father wasn’t looking, she would get the servants to cover the swords and bows with cloth, and when she wasn’t looking he would have them removed again.

  “I’d almost forgotten about that,” she said, a sad acceptance etching itself on her face.

  Robert’s hand clenched tightly around the fabric and he had to force himself to let it go.

  “Can you see the books?” she asked, unaware of his rising anger in her eagerness for more reunions.

  “Yes,” he answered quietly.

  She felt for his hand and held on to it tightly. “Take me to them.”

  He helped her pick her way through the boxes, furniture and rolls of fabric. They knelt in front of the disorderly pile of books. Robert could almost feel her excitement inside himself. She held out her hands expectantly.

  Robert hesitated a second, then placed the first volume carefully in them.

  She ran her hand over the surface and lowered her nose to inhale the scent of leather, parchment, glue and gilt. This time when she smiled, it was almost luminous with its intensity. Robert had to fight off the feeling that he was intruding on a personal moment, but he watched her intently as she gripped the book tightly to her chest, his anger burning hot. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Imogen, why?” he asked tightly.

  “Why what?” Her voice sounded remote as her hands moved lovingly over the old leather.

  “Why aren’t these things that you clearly love so much at the Keep near you?” Robert’s voice pulsed with repressed anger. “Why weren’t you surrounded with things that were familiar to you when you lost your sight? Why, Imogen?”

  “Ah, that ‘why.’” She turned to him, her smile bittersweet with pain. “Because that would have made it too easy and Roger didn’t want to make it easy. He wanted to bleed me till I was obedient. He wanted me to give in and he thought that this”—she gracefully gestured to encompass the room—“would encourage that obedience.”

  She sat down, curling one arm around her knees, while the other held the book tightly to her chest, and began to rock gently back and forth. “Every visit he tells me of all the things he has locked in here, tells me how to get in here. Each time he leaves knowing that the information is burning into my brain. Sometimes as a refinement he brings me something, lets me hold it before stealing it away again, saying I can only keep them if I—”

  “If you what?” Robert was abstractly surprised at how calm he managed to sound when everything inside of him demanded violence.

  Now wasn’t the time. That pleasure would have to wait; now he needed information. Information Imogen was deliberately withholding from him in her silence. He watched as she drew subtly away from him into those parts of her mind to which he had no access. Fear of losing her to her demons galvanized him into action. He tore the book from her grasp and threw it heedlessly onto the floor, ignoring her gasp of protest. He grabbed hold of her shoulder and shook her.

  “If you what, Imogen? Tell me.”

  She raised her hands and held on to his biceps to steady herself. She could feel the iron of his muscles under his tunic. He was so strong, she thought dazedly, but that strength was protective instead of threatening. Suddenly she longed for the safety Robert represented, longed to lean into it, to never have to be alone in the dark again.

  “Kiss me.” Her voice was just a husky whisper, surprising herself as much as him. The silence that followed was deafening.

  When Robert made no move, need drove Imogen to press a chaste kiss on his warm lips, but she realized with frustration that it wasn’t enough. She leaned up and kissed him more boldly. His mouth remained firmly closed until he felt her tongue flick along it with small, butterfly movements, then he groaned and pulled her close, claiming her lips as his.

  She snaked her hands over his arms, along the contours of his broad shoulders. It wasn’t enough. She moved her hands down his sides, playing along the muscles, muscles she longed to touch, skin to skin. She pulled ineffectually at his tunic.

  He pulled his lips free of hers and searched her passion-flushed face. “Is this what you want?” he asked fiercely, but all she heard was his gentle concern. It was that gentleness that made up her mind.

  She was going to be daring and grab the elusive happiness her instinct told her this moment was going to give her.

  In this place built for her torment she was going to, once and for all, destroy all of her memories of Roger violating her soul, if not yet her body. They were going to be replaced with the cleansing memories of this man, who gruffly waited for her to give him permission to do what they both wanted, to become her husband in deed as well as word.

  “Take your tunic off,” she murmured, her hands moving desperately to the offending garment’s hem.

  He carefully moved her hands up to his clothed chest and covered both of them with one of his. “I’m serious, Imogen. I’m only a man, and if we don’t stop now, I won’t stop till you are my wife in every sense of the word.”

  She seemed to look him straight in the eye. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  A rational part of him counseled caution, but it was drowned out by the desire that burned him clear through to his soul. He lifted his other hand and pulled off his cloak. The tunic followed.

  She leaned forward and placed a kiss on the center of his bare chest. He closed his eyes for a moment as the air in his lungs turned to fire. He brought her face to his and captured her lips in a devouring kiss, and set about freeing her of her garments. He lifted his head briefly to see his handiwork.

  The bodice of the dress had slipped off her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his hungry gaze, their alabaster perfection peaked by rose-pink nipples that tightened in the cool air.

  “You’re perfect,” he said as he lifted a calloused finger to trace the faint blue veins under her white skin.

  A nervous giggle caught in her throat. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “Oh, no, don’t just take my word for it. Let me show you just how perfect.”

  He lowered his head and she nearly levitated as his mouth followed his touch. She threw back her head to moan her ecstasy and thrust her breasts out closer to his touch. He lifted both of his hands to frame her soft beauty and lifted his head so that his breath scorched her moist flesh.

  “See, perf
ect,” he said tightly as he lowered his head, once more trailing kisses from one breast to the other, quickly finding her other aching nipple.

  He was right, this was perfection. And it was only beginning. Whenever she had dared to think about this moment, she had thought only of the pain and darkness she had known before, but with Robert she felt only wanted and cherished. When he reached round her and pulled one of the furs onto the floor she found herself clumsily trying to help him, wanting this precious moment like she had never wanted anything before. Carefully Robert covered its dusty surface with his cloak before gently laying her back against it, divesting her of the rest of her clothes.

  The beauty of her naked body stole his breath away. From the white swell of her hips to the delicate curve of her instep, it was all beyond anything his lurid imagination had been able to create. He quickly shed his leggings and joined her, reveling in the way she greeted him with open arms.

  She couldn’t stop herself from flinching instinctively as she felt his manhood press hot, hard and naked against her thigh, her bravery deserting her for a moment.

  Robert frowned, carefully watching her face closely for any sign of fear. Gently, he moved her hands to that part of him. “I would have you know me,” he said roughly, guiding her hands along his arousal.

  With curious fingers she moved slowly over the length of him. She ran a fingertip over the satin of his shaft, touched the pearl of moisture at the tip and buried her hand in the coarse hair at the base. She encircled him completely and gently squeezed.

  He groaned out loud, and she smiled, realizing for the first time that in this, she too had a power, one that went far beyond mere physical strength. Teasingly she moved to pull her hands away but he stopped her.

  “No. Stay,” he said raggedly and he withstood her exploration until his passion reached a fever pitch that could no longer be denied. He needed her.

  With shaking hands he removed hers, wrapping her arms around his neck as he covered her body with his own, snaring her lips in another drugging kiss. His hands played over her body to tangle in the moist curls at the juncture of her thighs and with the pad of one calloused finger he gently felt her readiness for him in her scalding heat.

  Lifting himself, he spread her legs and fitted his body along hers, touching her intimately with the heat of him. A groan rose from her throat as her body opened to receive that part of him that she could feel throbbing intimately against her.

  Her breath came out raggedly. The need she was feeling was painful. Need rode her, making her move herself against him frantically, blatantly inviting him to ease her aching. Instead of giving in to her silent demand, he held back and teased her to a new peak of desire, driving her mad.

  Finally, he slowly braced himself on his elbows and kept his fevered eyes locked on her face as he began to rock forward. She grabbed on to his arms, caught in a sense of wonderment and destiny as her body stretched to accommodate him. She moved her hips, silently encouraging him to take all she had to give, to take it all now.

  Sweat pooled at his temples and trickled down his back, as the restraint required to stop from burying himself in her began to fracture. He was stopped completely, however, by the fragile barrier of her maidenhead.

  “Imogen, there is going to be some pain. Oh, God, I wish there didn’t have to be, but it won’t be for long.”

  The cords on his neck strained with the effort he was exerting to stay still. She could feel that tension as it radiated down his arms and through his body, could feel it in the slick layer of sweat that covered him despite the chill.

  She lifted a hand to the tense line of his lips. “I trust you,” she said simply.

  It was the most erotic thing he had ever heard and it broke his control completely. With a helpless groan his hips thrust mindlessly forward.

  The sting of pain made Imogen gasp in surprise, but within moments the pain evaporated, as she became accustomed to the strange new sensations of completeness. Now the pain was gone, her need burned even brighter than before. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him close to the heart of her and to the ache of her clamoring desire.

  Robert’s last tenuous hold on his restraint snapped as he felt her moving against him, beneath him, around him. He held her lips in a fierce kiss as he began to stroke powerfully in and out of her body, driving them both relentlessly forward to completion.

  Wave after wave of sensation trembled through her body as the satisfaction of just holding him close was overtaken by her need of him. She met and matched Robert’s thrusts, joining him as an equal partner in their desire, urging him forward, urging him to teach her about completeness.

  She gasped in desperate desire, moving her legs up till her knees were under his arms, as close to him as she could be. She bit his shoulder, then soothed it with her tongue, all the while inarticulately urging him to take her to greater heights.

  Then, suddenly, those heights were inside her. Every muscle in her body convulsed with the pulse of release. She screamed her satisfaction as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

  And still it wasn’t finished. His body ruthlessly took her further, driving her beyond herself.

  Robert buried his head in her hair as his own satisfaction was wrenched from his body. Her body held his tight, her internal contractions drawing his seed from him with the same ruthlessness as he had just shown. He held taut for a moment, then slumped as every last muscle in his body turned to boneless flesh.

  She took the sweet weight of him and held him close.

  “Don’t think you can distract me,” he said severely, but he couldn’t even begin to hide the satisfaction in his voice. What he had meant to sound resolute and demanding came out sounding like lazy curiosity.

  He lay on his side and held her close to his heart. He’d covered their cooling bodies with the other cloak, cocooning them in their own world.

  “You didn’t find that distracting?” she asked with a satisfied sigh. “Perhaps I will have to practice it.”

  “Consider my body at your disposal, for educational progress only, of course.”

  She chuckled and nestled herself a little closer, trying desperately to hold on to this precious moment before the real world took it all away from her again.

  “But I’m not distracted,” he said more seriously. “Why?”

  She couldn’t pretend to not understand him.

  “‘Why’ doesn’t matter,” she said quietly.

  “Tell me, and I’ll decide if it matters or not.”

  “And if it matters? Then what will you do?”

  “Then I’ll pull his bowels out through his throat.”

  She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “That’s not actually possible, is it?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m prepared to find out.” He ran a finger up and down her arm, absentmindedly comparing the brownness of his hand against the whiteness of her skin. “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  Robert was momentarily nonplussed. “Am I entitled to know why I’m to be kept ignorant?” he asked tersely.

  She twirled her fingers through his chest hair, wanting to tell him, wanting to share the darkness with him, but found she couldn’t. This was so new when compared with Roger’s silky threats and dark promises that echoed in her mind despite her attempts to quash them. “I can’t tell you. It’s that simple. I just can’t,” she said sadly.

  “But I’m your husband now, in every sense.” His hold on her tightened almost painfully. “We have just shared our bodies. There can no longer be any room between us for secrets.”

  She simply shook her head, her lips pulled into an unnaturally thin line.

  He saw the defiance on her face and longed to break down the walls of secrets and memories that had suddenly sprung up between them. His jaw clenched painfully.

  “So I’m good enough to sleep with, good enough to marry, but I’m presumptuous to think I have a right to know what’s going on, is that it? I’m not trusted to share
your fears, only your body!” he finished with open disgust.

  “You’re really angry,” she said dully, instinctively bracing herself for the blow that was sure to fall.

  He let out a groan of pure frustration. “Of course I’m angry, goddamn it! I’m also hurt and frustrated.” He held on to the back of her head with the palm of his hand, looking angrily into her face. “You’re locking me out, deliberately building walls between us. If I don’t know what the hell I’m fighting, how do I defend you against phantoms and memories I can’t see?”

  He buried his head against her ear and whispered fiercely into it. “But understand me well, Imogen Beaumont, even if I don’t know what I’m fighting, even if you won’t trust me with the enemy’s name, I’ll fight off all threats as best as I can. I’m your sword arm against the world for the rest of my life. Do you understand?”

  “No,” she whispered, and his arms tightened around her compulsively for a moment.

  “It doesn’t require understanding. It is enough that it is so,” he said arrogantly, his breath hot on her neck.

  And she couldn’t seem to stop her arm from wrapping around his back and resting her hand on the dimple at the base of his spine even though she knew she couldn’t give him the comfort he needed, that she was the one causing the pain.

  He loosened his grip on her slowly as he finally got back control of his frustration and anger, but he didn’t let her go. He drew in a deep, shaky breath. “Now we sleep.”

  “You’re being dictatorial again,” she said with a small smile.

  He snorted bitterly. “Well, if I’m not to be given the names of the demons unseen, I might as well protect you from the things that I can see. You’ve had an exhausting day and need your rest.”

  “As my lord and master says,” she said meekly.