Cin Craven - Wages of Sin Part 16

I smiled. "I'm glad you're on our side, Mrs. Mac. And he's not my young man, not really."

She laughed. "You can't fool me, missy. I'm not quite in my dotage yet. I remember what it's like to look at a man the way you look at him."

"He has a problem with the fact that we're of different social standings."

"He's a vampire, Dulcie. He doesn't have a social standing."

"You know what I mean. When he was alive he was a poor gardener. He's being a terrible sn.o.b about the whole thing."

"Your father would have liked him," Mrs. Mackenzie said.

"Really? Do you think so?"

She nodded. "You should have seen the look of pain on his face when he came in last night, carrying you in his arms, all pale and still as death, him barking orders left and right. Your father would have approved. Why, after Fiona and I had gotten you out of your wet gown, which is totally ruined by the way, he actually had the gall to order me out of your room! Me! Can you believe that?"

"I'm surprised you let him."

"Well," she said, "sometimes it's expedient to let men think they're really in charge, but never for extended periods of time, mind you. Besides," she said with a wink, "I left the kitten in there. No man can make love with a kitten in the middle."

I laughed and blushed furiously.

"Dulcie, do we need to talk about, well, things before I go?"

"Things?"

"Yes, you know, the kinds of things that happen between a man and woman. In bed," she blushed. "Or elsewhere."

"Oh. No. I mean, I've lived in the country most of my life. I think I know the rudiments."

"Oh good," she said. "You realize, of course, that you won't be able to be married in a church but I fully expect at least a handfasting before you go anywhere with that rascal."

"Marriage?" I squeaked. "Mrs. Mac, no one's said anything about marriage."

"Well then he'd better get off his a.r.s.e and do so. I realize that when you're going to live forever that certain social mores are no longer really relevant but right is still right. Your father, G.o.d rest his soul, would expect me to see to it."

"I'll, uh, mention it," I said, "but we're getting way ahead of ourselves. We still have evil to fight and I'm not sure if we can win.

Handfasting or no may be a moot point."

"Have some faith, Dulcie," Mrs. Mackenzie said, looking up into the eastern sky. "Kali may be strong but she doesn't have a heaven full of angels looking down on her. You do."

I looked up. I certainly hoped she was right. We needed all the help we could get.

Chapter Twenty-Four

I rode Missy out through sun-filled glades and past sparkling streams. If this was to be my last day in the sun, I intended to enjoy it fully. The day was warm for October and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I kept Missy out of the shaded woods where the air had a bite of autumn chill to it and steered her toward the wide open expanse of gra.s.s leading down to the small lake at the center of our property. When I reached the pond I slipped off Missy's back and ran my hands over her white blaze, scratching her ears as I slid the bridle off and let her graze.

Michael had been adamant that I not go out today. He'd reasoned that although Kali and Sebastian couldn't walk in the sun, that didn't mean that she didn't have control of a human or one of her walking dead who could take me as I rode out alone. Devlin had argued that if Kali and Sebastian had made it to shelter before sunrise they were wounded and healing and I was probably safe enough. I think he understood that I'd made my decision and wanted to say good-bye to the sun.

I walked to the edge of the lake and looked out over the calm water. With a thrill of wicked excitement I slipped out of my boots and stockings, my riding habit and chemise, and stood naked on the sh.o.r.e. I'd always wanted to swim naked. I could have chosen a better time of year, I supposed, but there was no help for it. If I ever wanted to swim naked under the sun this would be my last chance.

Taking a deep breath, I waded out into the chilly water. It was glorious. And freezing. I gritted my teeth and swam to the center of the lake where I floated under the pure golden light of the afternoon until I couldn't stand the cold water anymore. By the time I climbed back onto the sh.o.r.e my teeth were chattering and my toes were quite a lovely shade of purplish-blue.

I sat in the sun until my skin dried and then I slipped my riding habit back on. When my hair was mostly dry I caught Missy and slid her bridle back on. Finding a fallen log, I managed to climb back up into the saddle. We walked at a leisurely pace back to the house, stopping occasionally to enjoy the view or to let Missy nibble some choice greenery. Michael had said that animals had a sixth sense about vampires and I wondered if she would ever let me on her back again after tonight.

When we reached the stable I waved Charlie Harper away and unsaddled and brushed Missy myself. Laying my head against her silky neck I stood there for a long time, breathing in the scent of her.

"I'm leaving tonight for London for a few days," I told Charlie. "Take good care of her."

"Aye, miss, I sure will," he said, patting her as he came into the stall with an armful of hay. "She's a good girl."

"You'd best be getting home," I said. "The sun will be setting soon. Has there been any more trouble in the village?"

"Naw, miss, but the magistrate still ain't caught the murdering devil so everyone's still making sure they're all locked up tight in their homes after dark."

"Probably wise," I replied.

"I'll bring some table sc.r.a.ps for the cats until you get home, miss, but I ain't seen the little gray and white kitten around," he said worriedly.

"She's apparently moved herself into the big house," I laughed. "Actually, she's gone to London in a posh little basket with Fiona this morning but I appreciate you looking after the others. Take care of yourself, Charlie."

"Aye miss, you do the same."

There was no one about in the house when I walked in. It seemed so unnaturally quiet without the bustle of servants or at least without Fiona humming and singing in the halls. I went to the dining room and opened the door a crack. Justine had moved the table again and was practicing, this time with the short sword she wore sheathed down her spine.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Devlin and Michael closeted themselves in the library shortly after you left and I haven't seen them since," she replied, never breaking stride.

"When you're through here will you ask Michael to come up and see me?"

She stopped at looked at me, a combination of pride and worry in her eyes. "You're going to go through with it?" "What choice do I have?"

She shook her head sadly. "None. You know that Michael still thinks he can somehow find a way to save you."

I smiled but there was no joy in it. "This is the way."

"And if he won't do it?"

I laughed harshly. "Do you really think I can't persuade him?"

She smiled. "You may have a bit of the courtesan in you after all, mon amie. I'll give you an hour to prepare yourself."

I nodded and closed the door.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When I reached my room I pulled off my riding habit and the damp chemise. With Fiona not there to help me dress this morning I'd left off my stays and only managed half the b.u.t.tons at the back of the habit but the jacket hid the fact adequately enough. There was a slight bulge which didn't exactly make me look like a hunchback but if anyone other than Charlie or my houseguests had seen me I'd have been mortified.

I sponged off with clean water from the basin and then opened the jar of my favorite honeysuckle-scented cream, slowly working it into every inch of my skin. I dropped my glamour and watched my hair bleed from copper to crimson and then brushed it until it shone in thick waves down my back. Slipping into my dressing gown, I pulled my valise from the top of the wardrobe and packed what I would need. I wondered if Justine would take me to buy some of those wonderful breeches and boots like she wore when we got to London.

The sun was low on the horizon as I pulled the heavy drapes closed over the windows and then walked out onto the little balcony off of my bedroom. There was a knot in the pit of my stomach. Could I really do this? Could I give up everything I was, everything I was meant to be?

I looked down over the Winter Garden. I used to love the smell of the roses but the roses were gone. The scent of honeysuckle and jasmine filled the air now. I gripped the stone rail of the balcony and looked out over the new shrubs and flowers that my magic had sewn. My eyes traveled from one to another as I leaned further over the railing.

Night bloomers, every one of them. My magic had created a vampire's garden.

My knees nearly buckled under me.

"Lord and Lady," I breathed.

Whether the magic had chosen my path for me or whether this was a sign, a blessing, from my mother I didn't know. Maybe I wasn't giving up what I was meant to be after all; maybe this was the person I was meant to be. I looked up at the sky.

"Thank you, Mama," I sighed, and I fancied the gentle breeze carrying my words to her in the next world.

The western sky was pink with fluffy golden clouds hanging lazily above the horizon. It was one of those sunsets where everything, the gra.s.s, the trees, even Ravenworth itself, seems to be rose colored. All my life I'd had hats and sun bonnets shoved on my red head so that I wouldn't freckle in the sun. Until this afternoon I'd never sat outside without a wide-brimmed hat on my head and gloves on my hands. Now I embraced my last opportunity. After tonight freckles would no longer be an issue.

I opened the dressing gown and let it slide to the floor. Standing in the pink twilight, gloriously naked and alive, I raised my hands to the sky and exalted in the glow of the sun, the hum of the earth around me, the beating of my own heart. The sun warmed my skin and I threw back my head and closed my eyes, opening myself to the world around me. I don't know how long I stood there, not nearly long enough, when I heard the bedroom door close softly behind me. I turned, clad in pink sunset and nothing else, and watched Michael walk across the room. If I live a thousand years I will never forget the look on his face in that moment.

l.u.s.t, desire, tenderness, a fierce masculine need to possess, all pa.s.sed across that angel's face. And, yes, perhaps even love. His blue-gray eyes raked over me and made me s.h.i.+ver with expectation. Would he be gentle or fierce? Did I care as long as I could feel him next to me? The setting sun bathed the balcony and splashed a pool of light across the floor of my bedroom. He stopped a few feet from the deadly sun and held his hand out to me.

Such a simple gesture, no words were spoken, but it meant everything. If I went to him I would lose myself, everything I'd ever known I was. If I lay down on that bed with him it wouldn't be me who got up again but someone new, someone different. I would never again be exactly who I was in this moment. He would take my innocence, and my life.

I looked at that chiseled face, at that strong, battle-scarred hand reaching out to me, and I walked forward. Stopping at the edge of the light, I stared at his hand. He was so still I wasn't even sure he was breathing. Did he expect me to turn and run? I reached my hand out, placed it in his, and he pulled me out of the sun and into the shadows.

"Are you sure, la.s.s?" he asked, his voice harsh with emotion.

I pressed myself against him and felt him shudder. "Don't I feel sure?" I purred.

He grabbed my hips and lifted me, my legs wrapping around his waist. I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his. His tongue plunged in and then he was walking toward the bed, every step moving me against him in delicious ways, and we fell to the sheets in a tangle of limbs.

As he kissed me again and again my fingers moved to unb.u.t.ton his s.h.i.+rt. I pulled the material from the waistband of his breeches and pushed it down over his shoulders, needing to feel his bare skin against mine. His lips slid like silk to my jaw and my neck as I arched my back and pressed myself against him, running my hands over the tight muscles in his back. His lips paused briefly at my neck and then trailed lower. I sucked in my breath as his tongue slid over one nipple. Arching under him, silently begging him, I fisted one hand in his hair. His mouth closed over me, pulling, the gentlest hint of teeth, and my legs came up around him. I could feel the hard length of him against me and I shuddered, my limbs shaking.

His mouth traveled the valley between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s; he kissed me there as one calloused hand moved slowly up my leg, over my hip.

His lips closed over my other nipple, drawing tightly and then releasing, his tongue making a single pa.s.s over the tight crest before he drew it roughly into his mouth again. I threw back my head as his weight s.h.i.+fted and his hand moved over the most intimate part of me, fingers tangling in my curls. Pressing myself against him, I cried out for his touch but his fingers lightly circled me, teasing me.

"Michael," I begged. "Please."

"What do you want, la.s.s?"

"I don't know," I said, my head thras.h.i.+ng back and forth on the pillows, "but you do. Give it to me!"

His finger slid inside me and my hips jerked, a small scream tore from my throat.

"Oh G.o.d, you're so hot," he moaned against my lips.

He moved me onto my side and curled his body behind mine, his finger constantly moving in and out in a delicious rhythm that sent my blood flowing like molten quicksilver in my veins. His other arm came around me, cradling my neck against his shoulder as his free hand reached out to stroke my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, to roll the rigid peaks between his fingers. Moaning, I laid my hand over his, feeling his finger pressing inside me, and rocked against him as he slowly slid another finger inside. I sank my teeth into his bicep to keep from screaming and fiercely rode the waves of pleasure, reaching, always reaching to something that was not quite attainable."No, not yet," he groaned and slid his fingers from me, their wetness trailing across my stomach. I felt the bed move and, trembling, I turned to watch him undress.

He was magnificent. He was all long, lean muscles and rigid planes and angles. His manhood stood out proud and terrifying. I sucked in my breath and stared. He had to be joking; there was no way this was going to work. I reached out one hand to touch him, my fingers skimming the length of his manhood before I closed my hand over it. I reached my other hand up and placed it next to the first and I still couldn't encompa.s.s him completely. He was hard as marble and throbbing in my hands. I looked into his eyes with grave uncertainty.

"Oh ye of little faith," he muttered and tossed me back on the bed. Stalking around the bed he stopped at the foot of it and stared down at me.

My hair spilled over the pillows in a pool of ruby waves, my skin nearly the same color as the cream sheets. I raised one leg and trailed my long fingers over my knee and down the inside of my thigh in what I hoped was a provocative manner. He growled and came down on the bed on all fours. Stalking me like the predator he was, he moved with liquid grace to rest between my thighs, his eyes never once leaving my face. His breath was warm on my moist curls and I screamed his name as his mouth covered me, hot and wet and urgent.

"Michael," I moaned. Surely proper people didn't do this but I couldn't quite bring myself to ask him to stop. It simply felt too good.

"Dulcie," he whispered against me.

I stiffened.

"What is it?" he asked, looking up at me in confusion.

"My mother called me Dulcie. It doesn't seem right somehow to hear it from you as you're doing... that."

"What should I call you?" he murmured, and licked my cleft in one long stroke.

I s.h.i.+vered. "Give me my new name, Michael. I've chosen you. You choose my name."

"Dulcinea," he whispered and kissed my thigh. He looked up at me and I watched him as he rose over me, his hands moving over my generous hips. "Cin," he said, "for G.o.d knows you've a body made for it."

"Cin," I repeated as he pressed himself against me. "Yes, I like it."

"My sweet Cin, I haven't even begun," he said wickedly.

The head of his shaft rested against me and I was hot and wet and willing. I opened my thighs and he pushed forward, pulled back, pushed forward, filing and stretching me. Then he gripped my thighs and slid home in one deep stroke. Pain lanced through me and I shoved at him but he held me still.

"Shh, shh," he muttered against my lips and began to move again.

Long slow strokes in and out and soon the pain was forgotten, a haze of l.u.s.t filled me instead. He pulled nearly out of me and then moved back in, just enough that I felt the marble tip of him at my entrance, teasing, entering and retreating, but never going further than an inch or two. I was insane with wanting, with needing, but I knew not what. I raked my nails across every inch of skin I could find.

"How do you want it, Cin?"