Lord of the Dark Page 5

  Gideon hesitated. How much should he tell her? Enough to frighten her away, he decided. “Yes,” he pronounced, “I once had a fine keep on this isle. The rubble still remains beyond the forest. I lost it.”

  “How?”

  “I lusted,” he hurled at her. She froze with a morsel of dried beef halfway to her mouth, and he answered the expression as part of the conversation. “I am not allowed to lust, you see,” he said. She flashed him a skeptical look, no doubt considering what they’d just done in the pool, and he spoke to it. “Oh, I fully expect to lose this fine cave here one day as well,” he said. “It is only a matter of time.” That should be enough to deter anyone…Anyone but this exquisite creature whose name he didn’t even know, but who had orgasmed with him in a pool of steamy mineral water not an hour ago.

  “Can you not rebuild your keep?” she asked him.

  He shrugged, setting his furled wings ajar. They opened halfway. He was aroused again. The sight and scent of her was enough to grow balls on a eunuch. “What would be the point?” he blurted. “It would only be taken from me again.”

  “You want me to go,” she said, answering her own question.

  He nodded. “You must.”

  “Yes,” she said demurely, her eyes cast down as she returned a bit of cheese to the tray.

  Gideon steeled himself. The look of her then would melt the polar ice cap. “I will take you wherever you wish to go,” he said, avoiding the eyes that shot up pleading.

  “That is just it,” she said. “I do not know where to go. My father was drowned in the shipwreck. I am…alone.”

  “Where were you going?” he probed her.

  “West,” she said, “to the hills of Thurgia, to meet my betrothed. It was to be an arranged union, not of my choosing.”

  “Umm,” Gideon grunted. “You do not wish to go there, I take it?”

  “No! I do not!” she cried. “My ‘betrothed’ is an odious creature old enough to be my father! We have never even met.”

  “Where, then…back to where you’ve come from?”

  She shook her head. “I cannot go back,” she said. “There is nothing for me there. My father lost all his properties and fortune. Were I to return they would imprison me for debt. I can never go back.”

  “Where, then?”

  Her eyes misted. “When the sea spat me out on your strand, I foolishly thought the gods had favored me,” she said. “You see, I prayed to Zaar when the ship broke apart to see me safely to dry land. I prayed to Mer not to drown me in the water. Then I washed up here, on your isle, and I thought both prayers had been answered. I also prayed to Mica, god of all, to show me his plan for my future. If this is it, here, now, I like it not. I have been cast out everywhere. Father and I were run off our land in the north country steppes, then the shipwreck, and now you would cast me out as well….”

  “I must! You call what is said of me ‘legend.’ It is fact. Because I lusted I am cursed to ever lust and be denied that which I lust after. I do not know a more delicate way to put it, but what happened in that pool before is a good example. Stay and it will happen again, and worse. I am allowed no companion here.”

  “Is this island not large enough to house us both?” she pleaded.

  “Have you heard nothing I’ve said?” he snapped.

  “We need not be companions if I remain on this isle,” she said. “Surely it is large enough to accommodate the both of us…at least until I am sure it is safe for me to leave.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be safe for you to leave? Hah! It is not safe if you stay!”

  “The mainland in these parts seems a likely place,” she said. “But first, since I am on my own, I would be certain none there mean to harm me.”

  What was she trying to tell him? How could he abandon her to danger, if such existed? It was times like these that he wished the gods had taken his conscience, when they stripped him of his privilege.

  “Who means you harm?”

  “I do not know that anyone does…for certain,” she replied. “But the first mate on the Pegasus was stalking me, and would have had his way with me if the ship had not split in two when it did and cast us all into the sea. I was no match for his strength. He had been after me since the voyage began, and I strongly suspect that he helped my father drown so he could pursue me unopposed. I would wait until I knew what has become of him before I show my face hereabouts. But if you insist that I must go, so be it!”

  Gideon cursed under his breath. “What is this person’s name?” he said.

  “Rolf,” she told him.

  “Very well,” Gideon said. “I will seek word of this ‘Rolf’ on the isles and on the mainland. You may remain until I am satisfied that he is no longer a threat to you. Then I will see you to safety and leave you in the hands of those who will care for you.”

  Her face brightened, and she rose to her feet and rushed at him. “How can I ever thank you?” she cried.

  Gideon vaulted out of the chair, his wings menacing. “Come no nearer!” he warned her, his voice echoing off the rocky walls. “There are conditions.”

  She halted in her tracks. “O-of course,” she said. “Name them.”

  He hesitated. What was he doing? He should snatch her up and take her to the mainland. Any delay was dangerous for them both. One could not cheat the gods. He’d learned that lesson firsthand over time. This was what his brain told him. What came out of his mouth was something entirely different.

  “You must keep your distance, for one thing,” he began.

  “Fair enough,” she said with a nod, her hands raised in a gesture of acceptance. She was so excited then, he was certain she would have agreed to anything.

  “You must never touch my wings,” he said. She blushed at that and lowered her eyes with a nod. He hesitated. Should he tell her about the watchers? No. Why frighten her for naught, though he weighed it over and over in his mind before he spoke again on an audible breath. “And while you are my guest here”—he didn’t want her to think she was his prisoner—“you must remain inside the cave.”

  “Why?” she asked him warily.

  “Because I wish it.”

  “I thought to take the air in the daytime,” she said.

  “There are dangers in the air,” Gideon responded. “Besides, if your Rolf has washed up on these shores as well and I am not here to protect you, you could put yourself in great danger.”

  She considered it. “Not even in the courtyard or the gardens if I stay close by? You keep such a dreary house. I thought perhaps I might pick some flowers.”

  “You ‘thought,’” he said, arms akimbo. “There is no courtyard, and there are no gardens. Nothing grows upon the Dark Isle. Did you not see the trees in that wood out there? They are as dead, bearing neither fruit nor foliage. Flowers!” He spat out the last in disgust. “I see you had this all planned out. Well, miss, I have resided upon this isle for many ages. It is fraught with pitfalls where you might do yourself a mischief. I have valid reasons for my conditions. If you cannot abide by them, we leave for the mainland straightaway.”

  She nodded. “I don’t suppose you will tell me what those reasons are?” she murmured.

  She would not leave well enough alone, this enchanting, outspoken beauty the sea had left on his shore. She was passionate and innocent, virginal and seductive all at once. He had never met the like, or her equal. Yes…there was great danger, indeed, for he was passionately intrigued.

  “My reasons are not important,” he said. “Suffice it to say they are very good ones, and have done.”

  “Are there more conditions?”

  He breathed a sigh that flared his nostrils. “Those three shall suffice,” he said. “That you will keep your distance from me and not touch my wings will protect you from my curse—”

  “And what if I do not wish to be protected from your curse?” she interrupted him boldly.

  Gideon stared. This was the last thing he expected her to say, and he froze for a moment.
“That would be very unwise,” he finally said in his most casual voice. He went on smoothly, “Remaining inside this cave will keep you safe from any who might see you…unless you want your Rolf to find you?”

  She stamped her bare foot. “He is not my Rolf!” she shrilled. That struck a chord. She had a temper too. He was impressed. He’d seen enough insipid females in his time. This could be quite a pleasant interlude if things were different. He shook himself, disturbing his wings. What was he thinking?

  “A figure of speech,” he said, “nothing more.”

  “Why wouldn’t you let me tell you my name earlier?” she snapped. “Oh, I heard what you said, but there is more to it, I think. If you won’t tell me the rest of your valid reasons, will you at least tell me the real reason for not wishing to know my name?”

  “I had a valid reason for that then as well,” he grumbled dourly. “No more. Tell it if you must. It no longer matters.” Indeed, it did not. Had he been alone, he would have scourged himself for it. He’d told her the truth. He hadn’t wanted to personalize her in his mind with the familiarity of her name. He didn’t want to risk the consequences of an attraction. He had never risked that. Considering the conditions of the curse, such a thing as love would have been a catastrophe he could ill afford. Those consequences were encroaching upon him without the intimacy of first names. It was too late for preventative measures. Now he must find a cure.

  “I am called Rhiannon,” she said.

  He gave a start. “You are named for an Otherworldly goddess of myth?” he marveled. “No one remembers such deities anymore. They have faded into the mists of time. How did you come by such a name?”

  “My mother gave it to me,” she said. “She loved the old myths. My namesake endured much suffering. I think my mother knew I would suffer also.”

  “You are too young to have suffered the sorrows of your namesake,” he said. “A poor choice, though somehow it suits you.”

  “I am four and twenty summers,” she said with pride. “And although my namesake suffered, she was strong enough to surmount her trials. I will surmount mine also.”

  Gideon climbed down from the dais and strolled toward the doorway. “What does this Rolf look like?” he asked her.

  “He is tall, with angular features. His hair is dark, but not as dark as yours, or as long. He has the eyes of a snake…they shift as if he sees beyond you when he looks at you…”

  “What was he wearing when you last saw him?”

  Rhiannon shrugged. “Seaman’s garb,” she replied, “and a yellow oilskin slicker.”

  Gideon gave a start. It was only a brief tremor in his steely demeanor. He had become a master of concealing his feelings. “My home is at your disposal,” he said without missing a beat. “You may claim the chamber with the bed as your own during your stay…the one with the wardrobe where you found that kirtle you are wearing.”

  “Where will you sleep?” she asked.

  “That is not my chamber.”

  “Oh…I assumed…that is, I looked at all the other rooms. That chamber is the only one with a bed.”

  Gideon had to pass very close to her to leave the room. How very lovely she was staring up at him. Her scent drifted past his flared nostrils, sweet clover rising from her hair and moist skin. He was aroused; he had been since the pool—in spite of the pool. There was no hope for it. He was so hard against the skintight seam in his eel-skin suit he was in pain, so much pain another moment and he would have to open the crotch and expose his aching cock to relieve the pressure, just as he had done when he left the Pavilion.

  Who was he fooling? If she stayed—even for a day—he would have her. It was inevitable. He could feel her body heat. He could almost see it. He could see her aura. That ability was one of his gifts. She was on fire for him, the halo of color around her a shimmering crimson. If only she would resist. Why wouldn’t she resist?

  He recalled, as he did so often, how it was before the fall, when he had control of his urges, before the gods cursed him and made him a slave to lust. He had defied them ever since, and managed to steal what pleasures he could, only because they were nothing more than lascivious need, an itch to be scratched out of the watchers’ view. Sometimes it worked; for the most part, it failed, but that didn’t matter because the passion was purely physical, the way it was with Muriel. Heart and loins were separate segments of his complex makeup. He could just as easily pleasure himself; that was allowed. But this! This had all the potential of a nightmare of epic proportions. The attraction was more than physical. He recognized it all too well. Only once before had he felt such an attraction. It had been the reason for his fall, the reason he was cast out of Paradise. There was no mistaking that feeling now. He had lived eons avoiding the wonderful, terrible thunder in the soul, the unquenchable ache in the heart that had damned him. Yes, he knew the feeling well. It was like an old ghost come back to haunt him.

  He stepped over the threshold. “I cannot sleep in a bed,” he told her. “My wings prohibit me. Feel free to avail yourself.” He hesitated. “Remember our bargain,” he reminded her. “I shan’t be gone long….”

  6

  Rhiannon followed Gideon out of the anteroom and watched him stride down the corridor. How tall he was. He nearly filled the span, his magnificent wings all but sweeping the ground. If his posture wasn’t so clenched, they would have done just that. The legend of the fallen archangel condemned to live out his eternity in solitude upon the Isle of Darkness in the enchanted Archipelago of Arcus wasn’t exaggerated. He was a force to be reckoned with, and one she could not resist.

  She had become as two people inhabiting the same skin since their encounter in the pool. Where had her innocence gone? She had never seen a naked, fully aroused male before. She should have resisted, but she couldn’t. He had awakened something deep down inside, at the very core of her sexuality that commanded her. His touch was pure ecstasy, his kiss sublime, his passion irresistible. He had aroused her to pleasures of the flesh she never imagined, pleasures that demanded consummation. What was happening to her under this enigmatic creature’s spell? Where had the shy, virginal, proper young lady she had always been gone?

  A flash of bright sunlight beaming along the corridor as the double doors opened caught her eye. It was all too brief. The door slammed shut, casting the cave in bleak semidarkness again, with only the torches in their iron brackets on the curved walls picking out the turns and twists in the labyrinth.

  Rhiannon breathed a weary sigh. She could certainly understand his first two conditions, but why she must remain in the cave on such a beautiful sunny day, when she would surely see any of the pitfalls he was so worried over, was beyond her. He said they were alone on the isle, so there was no threat of harm from anyone. It made no sense.

  She started down the corridor with a shrug. How could he sleep without a bed? She was halfway to the sleeping chamber he had allowed her when she remembered something she had thought odd earlier. Taking a turn, she went to the largest chamber and entered it. Glancing around the room, she spied the strange, almost heart-shaped alcove recessed in the rocky wall and gasped. Stealing close, she traced the shape of the niche with her hands. Was this carved to fit him, to accommodate his wings? Yes, it must be. It was filled with his scent, and she breathed him in deeply.

  Rhiannon stepped inside the niche and appraised its size. She was lost in it, but he would not be; it would fit him utterly. How could he sleep standing up? She couldn’t imagine it. But it must be so. She folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes, standing thus to test it. It wasn’t long before she grew restless and finally left the alcove.

  Retracing her steps, she returned to the chamber with the bed and flopped down upon it trying to imagine herself in Gideon’s arms atop the eiderdown quilts. His scent was still fresh in her nostrils, and she whispered a moan writhing there, her arms stretched over her head. Lowering them, she palmed her body through the homespun kirtle, sliding her hands over the mounds of her
breasts, pausing upon the nipples hardening at her touch. Her hands slid lower, following the contours of her waist, her belly and thighs. As if they had a will of their own, her fingers began to inch up the skirt of the kirtle until she’d exposed herself.

  Parting the tuft of pubic curls with her fingertips, Rhiannon probed for the spot Gideon had found, then groaned when she touched the hard bud of her clitoris. Closing her eyes, she called the dark lord’s image to mind. She relived the hot, thick hardness of his engorged shaft thrusting between her thighs, parting the pubic curls. She felt it leaning against the erect bud she was fondling now, until her whole mons area felt swollen, and a rhythmic throbbing began deep inside at the epicenter of her sex.

  Warm rushes of orgasmic fire teased her belly and rippled through her thighs as she writhed against her stroking fingers. Arching her back, she leaned into the friction, reliving his kiss, the hot touch of his massive hands cupping her breasts in the steamy mineral water, the unstoppable ecstasy of their bodies rubbing together naked skin to naked skin. She could not get enough of it—of him.

  A troop of husky pleasure moans escaped her throat on the verge of climax. Hot blood thrumming through her veins rushed to her temples. Her whole body throbbed like a pulse beat as she imagined his shaft gliding between her legs, igniting her sex like a lit torch as he brought her to orgasm.

  Opening the neck of her kirtle, she spread it wide and strummed her nipples erect, first one and then the other. Something tugged deep inside her, something ravenous, gnawing at her senses until she could bear no more, until every nerve ending in her body screamed for release that only he could give.

  Guilty pleasure overwhelmed her, but the guilt was only in that she celebrated such ecstasy alone. She may be able to conjure his image, but there was no substitute for the man or beast, creature or celestial being, for she did not know how to call him. Still, oh, still, her hips jerked forward, her fingertips, dampened with her juices, glided over her sex. Her breath came short and labored, and she was his again….