Page 41 of Bold Angel
“Sweet God, you are injured!”
“’Tis naught but a scratch.”
She scanned his torn and dirty tunic, saw the blood trailing down from his fingers.
“Your hands,” she whispered, “your beautiful hands. Look what those terrible beasts have done.”
Her words squeezed a tightness into his chest. “’Tis naught that won’t heal. Do not fret so.”
But she cradled each hand softly and wiped away the blood with the hem of her skirt. Then she turned her attention to the gash on his shoulder. “I was so frightened,” she said. “I thought they would kill you. I couldn’t bear it, Ral, I—”
“Cara…” Her eyes looked as soft and fearful as the fawn’s. Ral tipped her chin with his hand, bent his head and kissed her. It was a soft kiss, meant as thanks for her concern, only a thanks and nothing more. But the moment his lips touched hers, something broke open inside him. His arms went around her and he crushed her against him, his mouth claiming hers full force.
The kiss was no longer gentle. It was fiery demand and a yearning to reclaim the lives they had so very nearly lost. Caryn must have felt the same for there was no holding back, no uncertainty, just a hot wild passion that equalled his own, and a wild fierce joy that they still lived.
With a tiny sound of surrender, Caryn slidher arms around his neck, her soft lips parting to allow his tongue. She met it with her own and her fingers roamed his chest. Ral jerked open her tunic and slid his hands inside to lift and mold her breasts. Feeling her tremble, he rent the opening wider, lowered his head, and took her nipple into his mouth.
Caryn moaned.Sweet Blessed Virgin.Wherever Ral touched, fire swept through her body, and an ache that made the blood throb in her veins. She laced her fingers in his thick black hair, arched her back and swayed against him, giving herself over to the hot sensations.
“Ral…” His mouth on her breast made the heat roar through her body. He was laving and tasting, suckling gently, then tugging and setting her aflame. Her legs went weak and buckled beneath her. As she sagged onto the ground, Ral followed her down, pressing her into the soft grassy earth. He kissed her as his hand cupped a breast, kneaded and massaged, then moved lower, tugging up her tunic then sliding up her thigh.
Caryn strained against his fingers, begging him to continue, dimly aware of where they were, caring even less.
He had propped his heavy weight on an elbow, his whole body tense, yet she could feel his hard length and the incredible heat of his body. He shifted his position, she felt his rigid shaft, then he stilled.
“Someone comes,” he said, followed by a soft muttered curse. He pulled her tunic back into place with an unsteady hand.
“What… what is happening?” She couldn’t think clearly. She felt confused and dizzy, yet her body burned with heat. He was leaving her, standing, then pulling her up to her feet.
“’Tis all right,cherie.”
Girart’s voice echoed through the foggy haze of her passion.
“I am sorry, my lord. When your lady did not return, I grew worried.” For the first time, Girart noticed thewreckage in the clearing, the bloody wolf carcasses, his lord and lady’s torn and bloody clothes. “God’s wounds, what has happened?”
Ral straightened the cloak around Caryn’s shoulders, hiding the rent he had made in her gown. “The lady attempted to rescue a fawn. In the end, she rescued me.”
She glanced up at his words. There was a warm light in his eyes and a soft look of approval.
“’Tis not at all the truth. As you can see, Lord Raolfe is a man of great courage. Were it not for his timely arrival, the wolves would have made short work of me.”
Girart dropped to his knees. “I have failed you, my lord. I should have followed sooner. Your lady wife asked for a moment of privacy, but I should not have waited so long.”
“Rise, Girart. ’Twas hardly your fault. My wife has a penchant for winding up in trouble.” Though the words held censure, there was no anger in his voice.
Girart rose to stand before him. “I did not know you had returned.” He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes cast down. “I am grateful that you did.”
“The hounds recovered the scent of the boar and ran it to ground. I came back ahead of the others.” He had wanted to share the news with Caryn, had discovered that once she was gone, he had missed her bright mood and the smile that seemed to make the day warmer.
“’Tis good she marked her trail.”
Ral nodded. “When I found her gone, I followed. ’Twas easy enough, but I worried she had gone too far. Then I saw the wolves.”
Caryn shivered at the memory, then forced herself to smile. “Thank you for coming, my lord.”But not for what happened after.
Now that she had regained her senses, she felt sick with the knowledge of what she had done. In a moment of weakness, she had let the dark Norman kiss her. Shehad needed that kiss, craved it as a parched man thirsts for water. The kiss had become far more, and she had craved that, too.
How could she—knowing full well the things he had done? She amended that. She didn’t recall what had actually happened that night three years past, and in the days since her marriage, she had been even less willing to find out.
