She blinked up at him when he broke the kiss. Glancing around, she felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks when she saw the indulgent smiles on the faces of the priest and the knights.
Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she started to pull away from Reyes, but his arm around her waist kept her close to his side.
He thanked the priest, Rolf, and his knights for coming, then led her out of the chapel and up the stairs to his bedchamber. The maids had laid a fire, there were candles burning on the mantel and in wrought iron sconces on the walls. Bowls of fresh flowers filled the room with a sweet fragrance. Someone had sprinkled flower petals across the floor and over the bed. A plate of bread and cheese and a flagon of wine awaited them on the table.
When he closed the door, she was trembling so badly that, had it not been for Reyes’ arm around her waist, she feared she might have collapsed in a pool of silk at his feet.
“Does the room please you?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to speak for the pounding of her heart, the lump in her throat. She was his wife now, subject to his whim and will. If she cried out for help, no one would come to her aid. She belonged to him, the same as his horse and his sword. Hecould lock her up for the rest of her life. He could beat her, starve her, order her to spend the rest of her days in a convent and she would have no recourse but to accept his will, whatever it might be.
He frowned at her. “Is something amiss?”
She shook her head, her eyes widening as his fingertips stroked her cheek.
“Are you afraid of me now?”
She shivered as his fingers traveled down the length of her neck, then, ever so slowly, skimmed the curve of her breast.
“I will not hurt you, wife,” he said quietly and then, as if to prove his words, he kissed her gently, tenderly. His mouth was warm on hers, demanding nothing, asking everything.
And because she could not resist his kiss any more than she could cease to breathe, she kissed him back, a long slow kiss that brought all her senses vibrantly alive. Caught up in his kisses, she was scarcely aware that he was undressing her until she stood before him clad in nothing more than her wedding slippers and her chemise.
She looked up at him, mute, as he knelt before her to remove her shoes, then unfastened the ties of her petticoat and let it fall to the floor.
In the way of maidens since time began, she crossed her arms over her breasts.
Reyes shook his head. “Do not hide your beauty from me, my Shanara,” he said, his voice husky with desire.
Biting down on a corner of her lip, she slowly lowered her arms, felt herself blush from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head as his hungry gaze moved over her.
“Beautiful,” he whispered. “More beautiful than anything I have ever seen.”
Drawing her into his arms once more, he showered her with kisses, his lips like fire as they slid over her breasts and belly then returned to her lips to drink deeply.
Desire was an ache deep inside, a longing so intense it was painful. She moaned softly, all thought of resistance melting away like morning dew. She wanted him. There was no doubt that he wanted her. Why didn’t he carry her to bed?
He kissed her again, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth and then, abruptly, he let her go.
“Sweet dreams, my lady wife,” he said hoarsely, and he was gone.
She stared after him, unable to believe he had left her alone on her wedding night, stunned that his going could hurt so much.
Unable to believe that, in spite of everything, she had fallen in love with her father’s sworn enemy.
~ * ~
Reyes stood in the darkness outside the keep, staring up at the window of his bedchamber. Leaving his bride had been the most difficult thing he had ever done, but to stay would have been madness. No matter how desperately he wanted to make love to her, no matter that his entire body ached with the need to possess her, he could not bring himself to bed her, could not condemn any son she might conceive to endure the kind of life he now lived.
Hands clenched at his sides, he paced back and forth beneath the window, his mind filling with images of Shanara. Her skin was creamy smooth, unblemished by wart or mole. Her body was lush, neither too plump nor too thin. His own body hardened anew at the thought of hers. He groaned low in his throat as he imagined carrying her to his bed, burying himself deep within her warmth, making love to her all through the night, waking in her arms.
Taking shelter behind a bush, he tore off his boots and then summoned the wolf within him. Muttering an oath, he shed his clothes, a howl of pain and frustration rising in his throat as his body transformed. With a last look at his chamber window, he ran away from the keep, away from the temptation that was growing ever harder to resist.
He loped through the darkness, finding a measure of solace in the touch of the wind in his face, the feel of damp earth beneath the sensitive pads of his paws. He ran for miles, effortlessly, mindlessly, ran until weariness overtook him and he stretched out on the ground, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth, his sides heaving.
When his breathing calmed again, he lifted his head and howled at the moon, howled in rage and frustration because even here, miles and miles from Black Dragon Castle, Shanara’s image lingered in his mind, and he knew that no matter how far or how long he ran, he would never be able to run away from the fact that he had fallen in love with the daughter of his sworn enemy.
But he wasn’t ready to face that revelation now, or ponder the possibilities and problems. For now, he wanted only to run with the wolves and forget.
