Scoundrel - The Blades Of The Rose Part 25

"Thank G.o.ddess G.o.ddess," she corrected, and sank down onto him.

An animal groan tore from him. He became all sensation. The tight clench of her p.u.s.s.y surrounding him. The drip of her juices as she slid up and down, his hands on her waist, her, bracing herself above him. The muscles of her legs, grown stronger and leaner in the past week. The sway of her flushed b.r.e.a.s.t.s with her movements. Her gasps as she rode him, her head tipped back with her hair streaming around her shoulders, grinding her hips against his so they were as tightly fitted against one another as anyone could ever hope to be, two interlocking pieces meant only for each other.

She drenched him. She had no mercy, for him or herself. Her need was feverish. She impaled herself, again and again, until she stretched herself taut and cried out, clenching around him.

No sooner had she reached her climax, then Bennett moved with an inhuman speed and strength, fueled by colossal desire. He positioned them so that she stood on the ground, facing the altar, her hands braced upon it, and his hands on her hips as he stood behind her. He pressed her down so that her febrile body contacted the cool stone, the sensation making her cry out again, then he thrust into her.

Low, guttural sounds clawed up from him as he took her, worshipped her, his mind shut down entirely. She pushed herself back into his thrusts, the softness of her b.u.t.tocks under his hands. And when one of her hands slid from the altar to rub at her c.l.i.t, first with trepidation and then with growing confidence, her fingers also brushing his c.o.c.k, whatever tenuous threads of control he might have still possessed snapped. He came with a shout, heat pouring through him as he gave himself up utterly to her, to how she made him feel. Her own o.r.g.a.s.m followed quickly.

His legs shook as he held her tightly, chest pressed to her damp back. Their breathing came in labored gasps. He nuzzled her hair, licked the sweet curve of her neck, inhaled her scent. He reached up and turned her head to the side, then he kissed her, mouth open, and she kissed him back in kind. Everything was open to each other, nothing held back. She overwhelmed and humbled and delighted him.

He gasped, between kisses, "I love you."

London's heart leapt to hear his words. Then she remembered. Bennett's definition of love and her own were very different. When he said, "I love you," to her, it meant, "I like you very, very much." Gratifying, but not entirely the same effect on a person's soul.

Yet it was more than she had ever received from anyone, from any man, and she accepted Bennett's declaration for what it truly was, without regret. She would receive his love, in whatever form it took, for as long as it was offered.

As for her own heart...she had to protect it. At some point, she and Bennett would part. She had to be ready for that day, make sure it did not devastate her. But she was growing stronger every day. Surely she could withstand it when the pa.s.sion cooled between her and Bennett and they separated, perhaps to meet again only as friends.

"Is the G.o.ddess appeased?" She felt the vibrations of his voice through her body as he curved around her. "Or does she demand more?" He pressed his hips against her bottom, and she could already feel him firming, despite his intense climax moments earlier. Incredible.

"It seems the supplicant is not satisfied," she murmured, wriggling against him.

"I'm a deeply holy man. However many times I need to perform the ritual, I'll gladly do it." He punctuated this statement with a light thrust against her. He was almost fully hard.

Immediately, she wanted him again. But she knew it wasn't to be. She sighed. "Much as I wish to stay here and worship all night, we need to get back to the beach. We have to be up at dawn to watch the sunrise."

"I didn't do a proper job," he mumbled against her neck, "if you're thinking so coherently."

She didn't feel coherent. She felt unmoored, floating, cast adrift on the desire and need between them.

Still, they disentangled from one another, he helping her up from where she sprawled against the altar. Slowly, languorously, they dressed, pausing every now and then to kiss and caress and murmur meaningless words of sated appreciation. He deftly performed the task of ladies' maid admirably, hooking her back into her dress with agile fingers in the growing darkness.

Once they were both dressed and shod, Bennett gathering his jacket from where he'd thrown it, he drew her back into his arms and kissed her sweetly. His smile was warm honey that covered and filled her. "Such a bold creature you've become. A demanding G.o.ddess."

"I never thought to rise to the heights of a deity."

"But you have. You are. Divine. London, l.u.s.ty G.o.ddess of the consecrated spring."

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes. "Mm, that has a pleasant sound to it."

"Not as pleasant as your moans of pleasure."

Opening her eyes, she smiled. "You're very good at performing the sacred rituals."

"I live to serve my G.o.ddess."

She looked at Bennett, his sculpted face of pristine masculine beauty, his eyes heavy lidded with repletion, gazing down at her as if she was something both precious and powerful. Only with him could she have dared to act as brazenly as she had, revealing her most private self, trusting him not to laugh or be shocked or judge. An extraordinary man.

She felt herself sliding toward danger. But she let herself go, fall into it, because it was better than shutting herself away in a protective cage as she had for so much of her life.

"Your devotion will see you handsomely rewarded," she said, then stifled a yawn. "And now the G.o.ddess is so sleepy, she can barely walk."

"Easily remedied."

He swung her up in his arms as if she weighed no more than a bird. She felt as though she ought to protest that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own, which she was, but a heavy, delightful la.s.situde had woven itself throughout her limbs. So she looped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he strode back through the forest. He felt solid with muscle, utterly capable, and smelled of wind and sea and man.

"Wake up, love," Bennett murmured, rubbing his mouth over the crown of her head.

London stirred, her eyes drifting open. They were at the beach. The shapes of Kallas and Athena moved about on the deck of the caique, anch.o.r.ed a small distance out. Lights from the boat cast shining reflections in the gentle surf. Night had fallen.

"Wasn't asleep," she mumbled.

He laughed. "I won't contradict a G.o.ddess."

Moments later, they were back aboard the caique, with London standing on her own feet. She had awakened enough to observe Athena and Kallas arguing-this time about whether olives were better grown on the mainland or the islands-but she was able to see a more contemplative look cross the witch's face whenever Kallas had turned away.

"I think relations may be thawing," she softly noted to Bennett, when Kallas and Athena were out of earshot.

He paused in his task of bringing up several blankets and pillows from below, glancing back and forth between the captain and Athena. A smile quirked Bennett's lips. "Thank G.o.d for that," he answered quietly. "I think our esteemed captain is on the verge of tearing down the masts with his bare hands."

Yet the captain was not going to have a reprieve any time within the next few hours. Athena took notice of the pallet Bennett was preparing on deck, a pallet large enough to accommodate two.

"Am I to have the bunk all to myself tonight?" she asked.

Despite everything she and Bennett had done together, including wildly make love in a ruined temple, a small blush crept into London's cheeks as she nodded. Spend the whole night with Bennett! True, they would be on deck, entirely exposed, but to have him beside her for the entire night, even if they only slept, was a treat she readily antic.i.p.ated.

He seemed to be looking forward to it, as well, judging by the grin he didn't bother hiding, the scoundrel.

London snuck a quick peek at Kallas, and saw the brief look of hope that flashed over the captain's weathered face. Then Athena bade them all good night and went down to her cabin. The sound of her locking the cabin door was faint, but it reverberated throughout the boat.

Without speaking, Kallas extinguished the lamps around the ship, stomped down to his cabin and slammed the door.

London turned to Bennett with a grimace. "Perhaps I spoke too quickly."

"The steps to Athena's dance are deuced complicated, but I think she's chosen her partner." Bennett shrugged. "For this set, anyway."

London could only shake her head at the continual mystery of men and women. Yet thoughts of the witch and the captain fled as Bennett finished preparing their bed and waved a welcoming hand toward it.

"Will this please the G.o.ddess?"

With a drowsy laugh, London said, "The G.o.ddess is so tired, she could sleep in a cast-iron bathing tub."

"I think you'll find this more comfortable. And the company better than a sponge."

He stripped down to only his trousers and she her chemise. He lay down, propping himself up on an elbow, and held the covers open for her with an enticing smile, as if she needed further enticement.

London slid under the covers, stretching out fully beside him. Even though the deck was hard beneath her back, it didn't bother her at all. She had wanted this for a very long time. The blanket enclosed them, capturing the warmth of their intertwined bodies. He wrapped her in his arms, and together they stared up at the night sky. Stars spread in profusion, a sorceress's embroidered gown, and the moon her diadem.

In his deep, rich voice, he told London stories about the constellations, some true and others entirely fabricated by his whimsy. There were Virgo and Leo and Leo Minor and Bootes, but there were also the Hot Water Bottle and Richard, the Articled Clerk, and the unholy union of a blancmange and a trebuchet, which fired projectiles of pudding at poor Richard across the sky.

She fell asleep laughing.

Many hours later, she had no idea of the time, she was awakened by his hands and mouth on her, the already frantic need of her body for his. Though she had led their lovemaking in the temple ruin, here he took command, wordlessly, confidently shifting her this way and that, caressing, stroking, trailing hot kisses everywhere. He drove her to madness. When she felt sure she would truly lose her grip on sanity from his sensual torture, he pinned her hands above her head, moving her thighs apart with his own, and drove into her. She arched up with a cry, filled everywhere by him.

On the deck of the boat as it swayed at anchor, in the depths of night, hidden somewhere in the Aegean, they moved together. Slowly, at first, gradual, delicious slides of flesh. Then with building speed and hunger. He was strong and able and alive, and he claimed her with his body, his mouth and hands. She felt his brand upon her skin, felt him within her.

Consciousness almost ebbed away as she climaxed, a fierce contraction of muscle and pleasure. His own release came seconds later. He was taut as a bow, hard everywhere, his head thrown back as he poured into her, with the stars overhead and stars within her body.

And when he said, again, "I love you," she felt her heart seize. Because she wanted desperately to say those words back to him, because she knew then that, despite all her intellectual understanding and self-protection, knowing full well that there would come a time that they would separate, she loved him. Not his his version of love, but her own. version of love, but her own.

The pleasure of sleeping beside London all night was much too brief. Kallas woke Bennett and London an hour before sunrise-the captain looked as though he could easily strangle a bear in his current foul mood-and, once they were all dressed, the blankets and pillows stowed, everyone drank bracing, small cups of coffee, speaking lowly in the predawn darkness.

As he sipped the revivifying coffee, Bennett watched London nurse her own cup, blinking and yawning in the cool of morning. He sometimes spent entire nights with women, but not often. It wasn't that he disliked sharing a bed, or the routines of morning, for in those quotidian moments he found a muted gratification that felt much like a worn and comfortable jersey. But no matter how much a lover insisted she had no claims on his heart, most believed that, if he slept next to them, shared a bed for an entire night, things changed. Demands and expectations that he could not meet. So, to save himself and his lover distress, he usually retired to his own bed after making love. Much better for everyone.

This was the first time that Bennett wanted more.

More sleeping with his arms around London. More silly, drowsy conversations with her about made-up constellations. More middle-of-the-night lovemaking. More seeing her face the moment he woke up. More of her her. Anything. Everything.

He bolted down the rest of his coffee, wincing when he burnt his mouth, but it was a distraction from the turn of his thoughts. Something was happening to him. Something he didn't understand and wasn't completely certain he wanted to confront.

Further distraction came when Kallas barked at everyone to make sail. Grumbling but dutiful, Bennett, London, and Athena all performed their tasks, and soon the tiny island shrank to a smudge as they sailed away. Bennett decided to take Kallas aside later and find out the exact location of the island, just in case he wanted to go back to it later. The spring, the temple. They were part of his prized memories now. Memories he would share with no one but himself. He wondered if he ever would return, and the thought that he might not or, worse, that he might return alone, felt like lead collecting in his belly.

They put the island behind them just as the sky whitened with the dawn. He watched the horizon, waiting for the sun.

Then it came, delineating the boundary between sea and sky, a crimson curve that bathed the sails of the boat, the faces of the people upon it, with aureate light. London, gilded, stood at the railing, a vision of arresting beauty as she, too, watched the sun as it rose.

"This is lovely." Her voice was hushed and low, the way one might speak in a holy place. "But I do not see anything that will guide us to the Source."

"Consult the mirror, perhaps?" suggested Athena.

Bennett quickly retrieved the mirror and studied it, crouching near the mainsail. The sun continued to rise, turning from a curve into a disc. Soon, it would be above the horizon. They were running out of time. But for what, he didn't know.

"Onward, and reflect toward the dawn," he recited aloud. At once, it made sense to him. He stood, then turned his back to the sun. he recited aloud. At once, it made sense to him. He stood, then turned his back to the sun.

London must have seen his purpose, because she was at his side immediately. "You think...?"

"Look."

He held up the mirror, so that it reflected the sun cresting the skyline. Both he and London peered into the mirror.

"On the horizon." She gasped.

Kallas and Athena crowded closer, so they all looked into the mirror's reflective surface.

"A giant." Kallas scowled in disbelief.

Bennett said, "Colossus."

In the mirror, they saw it. Reflected light gleamed on the horizon, coalescing into a ma.s.sive, glimmering shape.

Whatever, whoever it was, it took the form of a towering man, but how tall, Bennett couldn't determine. The sea destroyed all sense of proportion. Even if the figure was only a hundred feet away, it was huge. A man, or t.i.tan, standing upon the surface of the sea. Upon its mammoth head, a spiked crown, and he was nude, save for a cloak draped from one arm.

Bennett glanced over his shoulder, back to the horizon, and saw nothing. But when observing the same location through the mirror, the giant stood, plainly visible, gleaming as he stood upon the water. Everyone followed his example, turning their eyes back and forth between the reflection and the actual skyline.

"Can you plot our course using the mirror?" Bennett asked Kallas.

"Done." Kallas needed no compa.s.s or quadrant-the sea was his birthright. He knew it as he knew the tendons of his own muscles.

And just in time. The sun climbed higher, and the vision of the giant disappeared from the mirror. Now it was only morning. Bennett lowered the mirror and saw London watching him, an extraordinary brilliance in her eyes. She glowed, not with the rays of the sun, or with anything supernatural. What shone from her, in her face, her eyes, was a respect and affection Bennett had never seen before-never directed by any woman toward him him, anyway. But London looked at him as though he was truly admirable, as though he was something more than a wayward reprobate with a mad case of wanderl.u.s.t.

He didn't know if he was that man, the one she saw when she looked at him, but he sure as h.e.l.l wanted to be.

The clarity of Aegean air confused. Distances flattened into nothing. What was in truth far away seemed close enough to brush with the tips of one's fingers. London felt as though she could lean over the rail of the caique and gather armfuls of tiny islands like a sh.e.l.l collector. She wanted to set them in jars upon a window ledge, to catch the sun, or to prevent fading, into a shaded cabinet, then perhaps label the jars. Eastern Aegean Islands, May 1875. Eastern Aegean Islands, May 1875.

Should she collect and label Bennett as well? The First Man I Loved, Late Spring, 1875. The First Man I Loved, Late Spring, 1875. No. He was not the sort of man to be trapped and categorized. She loved him for his freedom, and would not take it from him. So she kept silent on her new discovery, but the wise eyes of Athena Galanos saw much. No. He was not the sort of man to be trapped and categorized. She loved him for his freedom, and would not take it from him. So she kept silent on her new discovery, but the wise eyes of Athena Galanos saw much.

"Please don't say anything," London said quietly when she and the witch had a moment alone in the quarterdeck house.

"He should know."

"I'll tell him. But not yet." She glanced at Bennett who, at Kallas's request, was entertaining the captain with stories of his travels. Most Englishmen prided themselves on their reserve, the impenetrability of their facade. Not Bennett. He smiled and laughed often. He had the masculine beauty of a cla.s.sical statue, but he was irrepressibly full of life, responsive to everything around him. Nothing cold or remote about him. As he spun a tale for the captain, he wove images in the air with his long hands, hands that could fire a rifle with deadly accuracy or caress her into erotic delirium. How many women had fallen in love with him? Likely thousands, and no wonder. He could not be resisted. Her own resistance had been, at best, token.

"When?" Athena pressed.

London looked away. "I don't know. This is new for me, too."

The witch pressed a kiss to London's forehead, her own expression faintly melancholy. "Go, then. I shall keep silent."

Midday came with the sharpness of an armory. Yet as they sailed steadily onward, the giant failed to materialize. The only thing on the horizon was another island.

"No disrespect, Captain," London said, "but are you sure of our bearing? We were were looking through a mirror, after all." looking through a mirror, after all."

"I'm sure," Kallas said. "That island is exactly where we are headed. Shall I change direction?"

"Stay the course," said Bennett.