Page 35 of While Angels Slept
Hunt raced to his usual place at the table and elbowed his way in next to Sir John, demanding to be fed. The old serving woman that helped watch over him was at his side, trencher in hand and admonishment for his manners on her lips. Cantia made sure her son was well tended before leaving the hall with the intention of changing her clothes. In the process, she had lost sight of Tevin but gave it no particular mind.
The emerald surcoat she wore was slightly torn from her trip to the cathedral and she did not want it to tear further. It was a small tear, near the fastens at her waist, but she would rather put on a more stable garment. Strange she hadn’t changed it the entire time she was in her bower waiting for Tevin. Her mind had been else occupied and it simply hadn’t occurred to her. Leaving her son watched over by the older serving woman, she quit the great hall.
The stairwell was dark and cold as she mounted it to the upper level. As she cleared the second floor landing, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. Startled, she almost screamed until she looked up and saw Tevin’s dark eyes. He pulled her into a crushing embrace, his mouth descending on hers with powerful passion before she could utter a sound. It was a swift action, brutal and overwhelming, and meant to conquer.
But she was a willing captive. Her arms went around his neck andshe was vaguely aware of being picked up and carried into her chamber. The door closed behind them and Tevin had enough presence of mind to bolt it. Alone, in private, now he did not have to worry over prying eyes or impressionable young boys. They were free to feel and taste only each other.
As he had done in the cathedral, his lips ravaged her, his tongue gentle, firm, experienced in her mouth. Cantia was his prisoner. His strength was too much for her to match so she surrendered to his onslaught, her small hands on his massive shoulders as he fiercely kissed her. When his mouth left her lips and he nibbled hungrily down her neck, it was all she could do to catch her breath.
He pulled the top of her shift out of the way, peeling it back to reveal a soft white shoulder. Cantia could hear him growl as his mouth worked her flesh, feeling the heat from his lips as hotly as if he were burning her. He pulled harder on the surcoat and ended up exacerbating the tear. The entire coat came apart in his hands and he tossed it to the floor. The woman in his arms was clad now in only her shift and he slowed his fevered pace, taking the time to actually feel her flesh underneath the thin material. It was slow, gentle, and erotic. He gazed into her eyes as his hands moved across her belly to hook around and cup her buttocks. His mouth descended on her again as he listened to the soft sounds of her gasping.
He was in pieces of armor which seemed to come off in steady rhythm. Cantia was adept at such things, having helped Brac on many occasions. She knew which fasten needed to be undone before the next piece could be removed and soon she had strewn sections of armor about the floor. The amazing part was that she had done it while Tevin ravaged her. When he was in his heavy breeches and tunic, he paused long enough to rip off his tunic and throw her back on the bed.
Cantia bolted up from the mattress before he could descend on her. Puzzled, he took her in his arms again to repeat the process but she balked.
“What is wrong?” he questioned, his lips against her face.
She shook her head. Then tears sprang to her eyes and Tevin forced himself to bank his fires. He looked at her with true concern. “What is the matter?”
She looked up at him, the lavender eyes brimming. “I cannot… the bed…”
He didn’t understand. “I’m sorry, sweet, I don’t…”
She jabbed a finger at the mattress. “We cannot use the bed.”
His brows flickered with confusion. “Why not?”
She still had hold of him, silently pulling him around the end of the bed to the other side. As soon as Tevin rounded the frame, he could see bedclothes strewn about the floor in the four foot section between the bed and the wall.
“What is that?” he asked.
Her expression was one of shame and anguish. “I… I sleep there.”
His dark eyes were soft on her. “Why?”
She gestured weakly at the bed. “Because it smells of Brac,” she said softly. “I cannot bear it.”
He understood, feeling guilt sweep him yet again. “Cantia,” he murmured. “I am so sorry. You are still grieving and I’ve been nothing but overbearing and forceful with you. Forgive me, sweet.”
She looked at him, her eyes wide. “You’ve not been overbearing or forceful at all. Moreover, at any time I could have refused you. I’ve not refused because I’ve not wanted to. I explained this to you, Tevin… what I feel for you is completely separate from what I have felt, or continue to feel, for Brac. I cannot sleep on a bed that smells of him because it is a fresh reminder of his loss every time I breathe it in. I will never heal if I continue to do that. And for my sake, for Hunt’s sake, I must heal.”
Tevin sighed, pulling her head to his lips and kissing her forehead. “I shall have the bed removed if it pleases you.”
“I think that is best.”
“No more sleeping on the floor. You’ll catch chill.”
She smiled weakly. “As you say,” the mood between them, sopassionate only moments earlier, had cooled. She continued to study him. “So is this the end of your onslaught for the day?”
His brow furrowed, somewhere between amusement and puzzlement. “Considering the circumstances, it probably should be, don’t you think?”
She put her hands on his face, pressing her thinly clad body against his bare chest. “Nay, I do not,” she whispered. “I would resume where we left off.”
He couldn’t help it. His arms went around her and his want for her ignited full-strength once again. He was coming to realize his fire for her was very easily stoked. As she lifted her mouth to him for a kiss, he spoke softly.
“Are you sure?”
“More than sure.”
