Briar Rose Page 2

  She plopped in the seat, disheartened.

  He started to brush her hair.

  Dawn sat there, arms still crossed, waiting for the humiliating ordeal to end … but as the moments passed, her heart swelled again, her lungs gasped for air, and those miserable tears threatened to swim in her eyes again, for he stroked her locks with such tender regard she almost felt his kindness toward her, his passion for her.

  After spending more time than was necessary smoothing her hair, he plaited the tresses and tied the braid with a white ribbon that he also retrieved from the small box on the mantle.

  “Why don’t you go to bed,” he suggested. “You’ve had a long day.”

  A confused Dawn left the chair and wandered toward the bed. She crawled under the covers, pulled the quilt up to her nose and maintained her backside to her husband.

  She heard him toss out the water and put away the furniture before he lowered the lamp lights.

  In the dimness, she shivered, but not with cold. Had she misjudged Rafe? Was he a gentleman farmer, after all? Perhaps he wanted a wife to help him, to keep him company? He was a man of little words. Courting a woman might not be easy for him. But marrying a woman at a public auction? It was simple. Straightforward. Mayhap he wanted a partner, not a slave? Mayhap he wanted a real marriage? With babes? A true family?

  She shut her eyes tight as soon as she heard him undress. It sounded as if he had removed all his clothes.

  Her muscles tensed when he pulled back the covers and settled beside her. The heat from his naked body was like a raging inferno. Sweat pooled between her breasts, trickled down her spine. She waited—and waited—for him to say something, do something, but after a minute, he just sighed, tucked an arm under his head, and fell fast asleep.

  Dawn wasn’t sure if she was grateful he hadn’t touched her or disappointed.

  ~ * ~

  In the early morning light, Dawn’s lashes fluttered. She had slumbered soundly for the first time in a long time. She had even dreamed … of her husband.

  Her drowsy eyes settled on Rafe, still asleep beside her. At the sight of his handsome profile, her heart thudded. He was a few inches away from her, so close she could hear him breathing, feel the fieriness of his skin. And yet, she wanted to be even closer to him. The want welled in her belly, invaded her breast. She clamped her teeth over her bottom lip to keep the urges at bay.

  She had never known such desire for intimacy; it had always frightened her in the past. But now …

  “I can feel your touch, Dawn.”

  She stiffened. “No, I—”

  “You touch me with your eyes.”

  The man’s lashes were still shut. How did he know she was watching him? And that rough vein in his voice? Did he yearn for her in return?

  The thought overwhelmed her until she was lost in a storm of feeling: so lost, words deserted her.

  Rafe rolled his head to the side and opened his ethereal eyes, setting her blood alight with his balmy stare. Aye, he wanted her. And that truth stoked something profound within her.

  He reached across the bed and stroked her cheek with his knuckle. “When you’re ready, wife, come to me and take what you want.”

  At the sensual invitation, her breath hitched.

  His flushed body stirred once more before he left the bed. She studied him as he crossed the room—fully bare—and her heart jumped at the sight of his naked arse, so firm, his corded back muscles and sinewy thighs.

  He was beautiful, she thought: her first such thought of a man. And she ached, deep in her loins, to … what? she wondered. Gaze at him, still? Caress him? Both. And more. A carnal part of her wanted to taste him, too.

  She shuddered.

  He turned toward her after he had dressed, rested his eyes upon her again. He said nothing of his nakedness—or her voyeurism—but his gaze was so smoldering. He knew she had watched him in the buff, that she had liked watching him in the buff.

  He offered her a wolfish smile. “I have to go into town to fetch more supplies. Would you make breakfast for the helpers in the barn?”

  “Yes, of course,” she murmured, cheeks burning. “And you?”

  “I’ll grab some fare at the local inn. I’ll be home soon,” he said in a husky timbre.

  He then strapped a traveling bag across his shoulder and headed from the house.

  She missed him the moment he left the dwelling, especially the simmering warmth he generated just by being in the room—and staring at her.

  Dawn released a heavy breath and rolled out of bed. She slipped into the frock Rafe had gifted her and set to work on her chores, chopping up a hardy red onion and boiling a couple of eggs.

  She carried the meal over to the barn, balancing the tray in one hand as she climbed the ladder. When she reached the loft, she slid the tray across the floor.

  “Good morning,” she called.

  Two small heads popped up from under the covers, their black hair a mess of curls, their eyes both dreamy blue. The boy seemed about eight-years-old, the girl the same. They yawned like a pair of fluffy fledglings roused from the nest.

  “You are twins,” exclaimed Dawn, awed by their winsome appearances.

  The girl smiled. “He found you!”

  “Yes, well, I suppose he did,” said Dawn, uncertain. “I am Rafe’s new wife.” She paused, then, “Are you his children?”

  She’d expected his “helpers” to be older farm hands, not charming sprites. Had Rafe moved the siblings into the barn? To make room for her in the house?

  Dawn felt a twinge of guilt. She had not meant to disrupt their little family.

  “No,” returned the boy. “We look after the house and animals for Master Rafe. He took us in after … after our parents died.”

  Of course, thought Dawn. There had been a cholera epidemic not three months ago. Perhaps the lambs had lost their parents, then? How gracious of Rafe, taking two orphans under his protection.

  Her esteem for her new husband ballooned even more, and her heart swelled with affection for the foundlings, for she knew how frightening it was to be alone in the world. Why, the children even looked like her!

  Dawn offered the bairns a sympathetic grin. “Eat your breakfast, then come into the house. I would like some company today, if you don’t mind.”

  “Yes, mistress,” said the boy. “I’m Edward, by the way.”

  “Elisabet,” his sister chimed.

  Dawn bobbed her head. “A pleasure to meet you both.”

  She descended the ladder and traversed the courtyard, her steps light. She had never felt such an instant rapport with anyone … well, that wasn’t entirely true. She’d also experienced a mysterious kinship with Rafe.

  As she approached the house, her footfalls faltered. The door was opened. She had secured the latch, she was sure. Had an animal broken into the abode? Or a stranger?

  Digging in her heels, Dawn squared her shoulders and hollered, “Who’s there?”

  She hadn’t a weapon, but she’d a loud and commanding voice when she needed it, and she hoped to scare off whoever—or whatever—had wandered into her home. She had the children to safeguard, as well, and a powerful need to defend them overcame all her senses.

  Boots shuffled.

  Her sweaty palms fisted in instinct.

  A man soon appeared in the doorframe, cap in hand, his cheeks rough with stubble, his hair a dramatic apricot red. The moment he clapped eyes on her, though, his easy manner dropped away and his features tightened. A shadow passed over his hazel eyes. And the air between them stirred, whipping the dirt and straw across the yard.

  Dawn shivered. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  He glared at her, as if bewildered by her presence, before his expression swiftly transformed from a veritable snarl to one of merriment.

  “Forgive me.” He bowed. “I did not mean to startle you.”

  She almost snorted at his insincere gallantry. “Why are you rummaging through my house?”

 
“Your house?”

  “Aye,” she snapped.

  “I was looking for Rafe.”

  “I am his wife.”

  “I see.”

  Had he hissed at her? The nerve!

  Dawn burrowed her nails into her palms. What was it about the stranger that unnerved her? Her memory was strained, but she sensed she’d encountered the intruder before that day. A lifetime ago. In her youth, mayhap?

  She remembered so little about her past, especially her girlhood days. In truth, she remembered little about her life before a year ago.

  “And what do you want with my husband?”

  He took a step toward her.

  The wind howled. Thunder boomed in the distance.

  The man stilled. “I came to speak business with Rafe.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Oh?”

  “I am Liam, your nearest neighbor.”

  “I will tell my husband about your visit,” she returned in an icy vein.

  Liam slipped the cap over his head and bowed again. “Thank you, mistress … and welcome to our little neck of the woods.”

  She maintained her defiant posture until he’d sauntered far enough away. As soon as he was out of her purview, the advancing storm deflated and the air turned breezy once more, the sky a brilliant blue.

  What had just happened?

  Dawn stalked into the house and slammed the door, gasping for air, a violent desire to strangle her new neighbor still pounding through her veins.

  What the devil was the matter with her?

  ~ * ~

  That night, a tempest raged. Dawn had tucked the children in bed, secured the barn and other outbuildings. She now waited for Rafe to return from his sojourn, pacing the floorboards and wringing her fingers. Something was amiss. The world had turned on its ear since Liam had appeared on the property. Even the heavens had changed, the horizon blood red.

  It was a bad omen. Where was Rafe? He’d promised to return home “soon,” but soon had passed hours ago.

  A restless Dawn went over to the fire and stabbed the coals. She piled wood atop the smoldering ash bed until an inferno blazed. Her fingertips had turned blue. She was chilled to the bone. Was it a curse? The villagers had always whispered about the evil eye. Dawn had never minded such gossip. Her life was misery. What evil eye was there to be afraid of? Until she’d met Rafe, that is. Was her happiness all falling apart now?

  When the door finally busted open, a feral wind slashed through the room.

  “Rafe!” she cried.

  He pushed hard against the door, securing the latch. “What an infernal storm.”

  As soon as he dropped the sacks of supplies, Dawn dashed into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder. “Oh, Rafe. Where have you been?”

  He circled her waist and squeezed, the sensation more comforting than any fire.

  “I was delayed in town,” he murmured. “Some of the roads had flooded. What’s the matter, wife?”

  Wife. The title sounded so right, so safe. She had his protection, like the children. It was all going to be well, she thought, and she clinched his neck in an iron hold.

  “Dawn, tell me,” he whispered into her ear, nuzzled her cheek. “You’re as cold as ice. Are you frightened?”

  “Not anymore,” she assured him.

  “Let me look at you.”

  Slowly, she dropped her embrace.

  Rafe cupped her cheeks, stroked her clammy flesh with the pads of his warm thumbs. “What happened?”

  “Liam.”

  That name set his eyes ablaze.

  His features grew taut. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No, the children and I are fine.”

  “Did he threaten you?”

  “Not in words, but the expression across his face … He loathes me, Rafe.”

  “That son-of-a-bitch!”

  She had never seen Rafe so enraged. Such an outburst would’ve alarmed her in the past, but not with Rafe. She knew he wasn’t angry with her, that he fumed at Liam. And in that, they shared a common sentiment.

  “Who is he, Rafe?”

  “My enemy … And yours, Dawn.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants Briar Rose.”

  She gasped. “The castle?”

  “The rose in the castle.”

  “And what has that to do with you? Or me?”

  “I own the keep and the property that surrounds it for miles.”

  “What?”

  “Liam’s wanted to purchase the estate from me for many months, but I refuse to sell it. And now that I’m wed, he knows he’ll never get his hands on it. That it will stay in our family forever.”

  Dawn glanced out the window, in the direction of the medieval fortress. “What does he want with it?”

  “He wants the power of the rose.”

  Dawn pulled away from her husband. She imagined a fragile bloom, nestled in the dank darkness of the tower, fighting for survival. And then she pictured Liam, stomping over it, stealing its precious gift.

  Her palms fisted again, as if she prepared for battle.

  “What is it, Dawn?”

  “I feel angry,” she seethed. “That bastard turned my world upside-down.”

  “How?” asked Rafe.

  “I’m not sure, but ever since I met him, I’ve wanted to hurt him. I’ve never lusted for blood, not even for my lout of an ex-husband. And the heavens are red. The winds are in an uproar. It’s all breaking apart, Rafe. He cursed us!”

  Rafe crossed the room and grabbed her. “No, Dawn. It’s all coming together, I promise. Don’t fear the changes, embrace them.”

  “Why?”

  “It has to be this way.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, Dawn.” He nestled against her, his lips a wisp away. “I’ve missed you, wife.”

  A hot mouth pressed hard over hers, burning and wild.

  She took in a sharp breath, unaware a kiss could feel so good, so liberating … so arousing, and the trepidation she had suffered with for so long flitted away in that sensuous moment, replaced by a righteous boldness. She was a wife. She had wifely duties. But she had wifely rights, too …

  Dawn clasped her husband’s neck, weaving her eager fingers through his hair, holding him tight. She took in the heady scent of him. So masculine. So virile. His hand traversed the knobs of her spine, her rump, roaming and caressing, stirring the heat in her belly … and other places, as well.

  Rafe pushed her against the table. A whip of heat lashed her skin as his desperate hand slipped beneath her skirt, his fingers raking her thigh, making her shudder with unabashed delight.

  A second later her arse hit the table top. He rucked her skirt up over her knees, exposing her legs, her throbbing quim. He positioned her right on the edge of the table and crooked her knees so she was wide open for him.

  She ached, so damn hard for him. Blood roared in her ears. He unfastened his trousers. When the cusp of his swollen erection nudged her dewy quim, she almost screamed in ecstasy.

  “Are you ready to take what you want, wife?” he rasped, muscles taut and thrumming with lust.

  The emotions inside her were strong enough to make her weep. “Aye!” she cried.

  His mouth, so hot and moist, crushed hers again before he entered her in one swift stroke.

  Dawn let out a groan of pure pleasure.

  Rafe pumped into her, quick, piercing plunges, each more thrilling than the last. The torturous thrusts whipped her innards into a titillating fit.

  Nothing had ever felt so good!

  She clamped her arms around his neck, holding him close. His skin was wet. There was so much of him to explore, she thought, but the humming want within her ranted for satisfaction. There would be time to explore her husband later, she assured herself. Now was the time for more primal instincts.

  As blood pounded through her veins, she gasped for much-needed breath. Rafe rocked her in rough and urgent blows, the knot at her quim tightening and tightening �
�� and then a burst of satisfaction wracked her limbs, sucking up all her strength, releasing the pressure stored in her tense muscles.

  She buried her face in Rafe’s shoulder and sobbed in gratification. He rammed into her one last time and poured out his seed, filling her with rich warmth, setting loose a deep-rooted moan of his own.

  As the climatic moment passed, her savage heartbeat steadied. In her husband’s arms, she cherished the incredible intimacy, so comforting after such a soul-wringing experience.

  Rafe scooped her in his robust arms and carried her to the bed, collapsing beside her. There, at leisure, they divested their clothes, and in the shadows of the flickering firelight, bussed and massaged every bit of naked skin, learning the curves and valleys of each other’s bodies until, fully sated, they fell into a deep sleep.

  ~ * ~

  Dawn moved through the castle corridor in swift strides, sword in hand, searching for the evil one who had invaded the keep. Smoked filled the air. She heard the roar of battle as iron clashed and knights warred.

  “Dawn!”

  She paused and glanced out the window, her eyes drawn to the western tower.

  “Help me, Dawn!”

  The Rose.

  It was in peril.

  She dashed through the passageway and up the winding stone steps, her armor clamoring in her haste. When she reached the spire, the door was barred, and she slammed her shoulder against the heavy oak.

  “I’m coming,” she shouted. “I’m almost there!”

  “Hurry, Dawn. I need you. Wake up!”

  Dawn shot upright, sweating, breathing ragged. Her heart was in her throat. A sense of urgency overcame her. She searched the room, her eyes wide, but all seemed well, the fire small and snapping, her husband slumbering beside her.

  She glanced out the window and noticed the pale rays of sunrise, the morning peaceful. Gingerly she lifted from the bed and dressed. When she reached the window, she looked toward Briar Rose. She couldn’t see the ruins from her vantage, but her blood quickened and her muscles stiffened with unfathomable dread.

  Help me, Dawn! she remembered the desperate cry from her dream, and she whispered, “I’m coming.”

  Dawn twirled a cloak over her shoulders and fastened the clasp. She moved with such grace, her footfalls were silent. Quickly, she opened the door and rushed toward the stable. She had never steered a horse before, and yet, when she entered the outbuilding and lifted the saddle from the wall, she knew how to strap the seat and bridle as if she had done it a hundred times.