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She remembered how he’d felt and tasted in her mouth. She adjusted her legs beneath him, savoring the wet slide of her thighs. His hot, silky flesh slid against her opening in a maddening tease. She felt his swollen head push between her folds, just slightly, and rub against the tender bud. Rain pattered against the castle—a soothing accompaniment to his breaths in her ear.
“Take me, Rowan,” she moaned as he arched over her. His muscles shimmered in the candlelight as he shifted his weight. He aligned his manhood at her wet opening and gently pushed, sliding the head inside. Just that seemed to fill her. She squirmed beneath him and arched upward, causing his shaft to glide halfway inside her.
She gave a little scream of delight mixed with pain.
Then he was inside her all the way.
They were one—their legs entwined, heartbeats pressed together. Another moment more of discomfort, then a feeling of completeness washed over her as she felt him fill her most intimate part completely.
He remained inside her, perfectly still, as her body gradually accepted him.
While he waited, he raised her hand to his lips, kissing her palm and fingers until her pain became her pleasure.
After several moments, she watched him close his eyes in ecstasy, and she raised her hips, inviting him deeper. She slid her arms around him and kissed him soundly, spreading her legs wider, hooking her calves over his strong hips. He moved, grinding and twisting his muscular body, pushing his flesh in and out of her.
His groans clamped down into hard, primal grunts that came faster and faster with his motions. Sweat rolled down his sides. Her nails dug into his skin, forcing him deeper still. She squirmed against him and cried out.
They remained joined, and he kissed the scar on her cheek and hastened his rhythm, moving in and out with urgent, sensual thrusts. She made a soft moaning sound, but she was hardly aware of doing so. She was wrapped up in Rowan, and nothing outside their unity seemed to exist or matter. Her heavy breasts shook with his rhythm. Her hands gripped his back, and her moans wound with his, each one louder than the next.
Time seemed to stand still as he picked up speed and took her with a passion that equaled her own. Their breaths shortened, and Blanchette felt that ticklish warmth spreading below again. It flowed through her body like fine summer wine until it spilled over and broke with the force of a wave crashing against Norland’s beaches. Her pulsing inner walls gripped Rowan while that warm tidal wave of pleasure rocked through her again and again. A little scream ripped out of her. She trembled from head to toe, her entire being wracked up in the exquisite release of her pleasure.
“Oh my God, Blanchette,” he gasped, sweat dripping from his brow, his eyes closing in ecstasy. “I can feel you gripping me.”
He picked up his pace and fell into a smooth, rocking cadence. Deep. Sensual. As if he meant to claim every corner, every crevice, of her body. She felt him tense, then shudder and slow his pace until he hardly moved. A husky half groan, half growl burst from his lips. The strong muscles of his back shuddered under her palms.
He kissed her deeply as the tears fell from her eyes. After a moment, she realized he was crying too.
They held each other like that, their tears mingling, bodies and hearts connected, as a new dawn came upon Norland.
Twenty-Seven
Smoke’s limp body was no easy burden to carry. Rowan and Blanchette silently passed through the castle’s raised portcullis. She held two shovels, and an intense emotion swarmed her gaze.
The outer bailey was alive with servants and squires cleaning up the disarray from the battle the night before. As Rowan and Blanchette passed through, they bowed their heads and whispered words of gratitude and condolences.
Rowan glanced at Blanchette. She had a strange look on her face… sorrow and joy, all mixed together.
Moments later, the ancient, gnarled trees towered around and above them, blotting out the spring sky. They came to a small clearing close enough to the river so they could hear its rhythmic murmur. Rowan knelt and laid Smoke’s body on the forest floor. The air was crisp and carried a hint of dampness. An earthy aroma emanated from the moss-covered ground, mixing with the sweet scent of pine needles and the musty odor of fallen logs.
Rowan tenderly ran his hand over Smoke’s smooth black fur, then whispered, “Thank you, my old friend, my most loyal comrade,” before returning to his feet. Blanchette had stuck the shovels into the dirt, so they stood upright beside Smoke’s still body. The angelic sight of her—the way the sunlight set her beautiful face aglow—unlocked something inside him.
She must have read the emotion in his eyes. Blanchette murmured a soft sound and came to him. She wrapped him in a loving embrace and tucked her head under his chin. He sagged against her hold and felt her slim arms tighten around his waist. “He was a true friend,” she said about Smoke, her hands flattening up and down his back in reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”
Rowan inhaled a steadying breath as he stared at Smoke over the curve of her shoulder. “I wonder if that’s how darkness wins,” he whispered, “by convincing us to trap ourselves inside rather than release it. I don’t want it to ever win again, Blanchette.”
She stepped away. Smiled knowingly and gazed into his eyes. Love poured from her stare. The intensity stole his breath. Then she gathered his hands and ran her thumbs across the rough skin. She brought his knuckles to her lips, kissing each finger. “You’ve escaped that fate, Rowan. And I forgive you… for everything. All I ask now is that you stand by me. As my king, my best friend, and my love.”
Rowan kissed her—madly, truly, deeply. Breathless, he knelt before her and withdrew his longsword from its scabbard. The blade seemed to whistle as it came free and he held it before her. Tears of joy fell from his eyes. He tasted them as they tracked down his cheeks and crept between his lips.
They tasted sweet.
They tasted like victory.
His head bowed, his voice bursting with love and promise, he promised, “My queen… my sword is yours. My heart is yours. I am yours.”
They kissed again, sealing a legacy.
Epilogue
