“Again,” he repeated. She sank onto him, and he groaned his pleasure as he slid inside her, oblivious to any pain.
“I love you. Love you. Love you,” she chanted on short breaths, the rhythm of her declaration keeping time with the motion of her hips as she rode him in the water.
He followed where she led, guided by the grip of her hands and thighs, the clench of internal muscles and her demanding kisses. His busy hands caressed her wet skin, holding her tightly as he thrust into her. Steam and sweat mingled to trickle down his neck and soak the hair at his temples.
She found her release first, nails digging into his arms before she fell forward and bit him where his neck met his shoulder. The tiny burst of pain, so different from the curse’s lash, sent him over the edge. Ballard cried out her name as his hips surged upward, hard enough to lift them both half out of the water. They sank together, sending another rolling tide over the tub’s rim to douse the floor.
Louvaen rested in his embrace, limp and momentarily docile. Ballard fought to catch his breath and the overwhelming torpor brought on by his climax and the steamy water. He stroked her shoulders and toyed with her knotted braids.
“We’ve destroyed the floor,” she murmured into his neck. “Magda will kill us.”
He undid one of her braids to twirl it around his finger. “I’ll let you hide the axe.”
She chortled and gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. She wiggled out of his arms, and he groaned his disappointment when he slipped from her body. “We can’t stay in here all day, Ballard.”
“Why not?” Ballard thought it a fine idea, and the wedding wasn’t until later. They had a couple of hours still and plenty of hot rocks to keep the water warm.
Louvaen stood, offering him another chance to ogle her. She stepped gracefully out of the tub to retrieve one of the drying cloths stacked on a nearby table. Ballard relaxed in the water and watched as she dried and shrugged into her shift. “As lord of the castle, you can lounge about all day. I need to help my sister prepare for her wedding.” She motioned to him. “Stand up. I’ll scrub your head. You can take care of the rest.”
“High-handed scold,” he muttered before heaving himself to a standing position.”Maybe I should throw you over my shoulder, take you to bed and have my way with you.”
“You’ll not drop me atop those bitter sheets, you lusty tup,” she admonished before dumping a pail of lukewarm water over his head. “Not before they’ve seen a warming pan.”
He stood compliant under her ministrations, wincing only once when even her careful washing of his hair still managed to yank a few of the slender vines. He washed his body while she finished dressing and used all but one of the drying cloths to sop up the puddles staining the floor. He hoped Magda was in a forgiving mood.
He chased her off when it came time for him to don clothing. “See to your sister,” he said. “This is her wedding day; she needs you.” He bowed gallantly. “I’ll visit with my son.”
Louvaen took his face in her hands and kissed him. Ballard thought she’d leave him then, but she paused, her expression somber. “Cinnia can’t remain at Ketach Tor, Ballard—even as Gavin’s wife.”
“No, she can’t. None of the women can.” He wished he could refute her statement, give them both hope that with their admissions of love, she and Cinnia had broken the curse. “The next flux will finish me and Gavin. Ambrose and I planned for such an event long ago.” Her eyes narrowed, suspicion igniting her gaze. “Magda and her maids will leave in a week’s time. We’d thought to send them to a village a few leagues from here.”
“No, they’ll come with us,” she declared. “It would be the worst sort of cruelty to take Cinnia from Gavin right after the wedding. We can wait a sennight before returning home. Magda and the others are welcome to stay with us as long as they want. My father would enjoy the company.”
His heart ached with loving her. She’d offered hearth and home to his household with no promise of monetary help from him. There was no question of him giving it. The Hallis family might not be noble by blood, but his treasury would make them so once he was dead. And she’d given him a week of her company. He’d pay a king’s ransom for such a gift.
He lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You realize Magda will want Ambrose to join her later.” He tried not to laugh as twin frown lines furrowed the space between her eyebrows.
Her features pinched as if she’d bitten into something sour. “We have a comfortable barn.”
He chuckled, kissed her hand a second time before letting her go and opened the door.
Louvaen ran a caressing hand down his arm before disappearing into the hall.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He finished dressing once she left. The cotehardie and bliaud were the ones he wore for Modrnicht. He felt ridiculous in the finery now, especially when he intended to cover up with a cloak.
“Who wrestled a sea monster and lost?”
Ballard looked up from belting the cotehardie to find Gavin picking his way around the remaining puddles of water scattered across the solar’s floor. The younger man paused and eyed the axe in the corner before turning to stare at the door. He began to laugh. “I’d possess the temperament of a dragon had you two created me.”
“And a hawk’s beak for a nose,” Ballard shot back. He met him halfway and clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder, wishing he hadn’t isolated himself from the one person who truly understood what he went through at each flux.
As stunningly handsome as his mother had been beautiful, Gavin cut a noble figure in a cotehardie of silk brocade that highlighted his wide chest and trim waist. His hair fell over broad shoulders in waves, and he wore a short sword belted low at his hip.
No one would ever guess that a few days ago this dignified man had been overwhelmed by a malice that reduced him to a creature Louvaen so brutally but accurately called “a bat-faced cur.”
“I’m told you’ll marry the beautiful Hallis girl today,” Ballard said. “This is still what you want?”
