Page 82 of Wild Hearts

With horror she realized he was going to strike her. She cried, "Paris, you mustn't be so fierce with me, I'm with child!"

"What?" he demanded, stunned at the audacity of the lie she offered him.

Damascus opened the door, saw her brother's angry face, and quickly said, "Oh, please forgive the intrusion, I'm just returning your cloak."

Paris stared at the fur cloak his sister had left, and some of the crimson mist cleared from his brain. "Please, before I go mad, tell me what you were doing this afternoon and with whom you did it."

Since it was a plea, rather than a command, she replied, "We were fashioning baby clothes for Venetia... and for myself," she added, blushing.

"A child— I can't believe it," he breathed.

She searched his face. "Are you angry?"

"Angry?" he puzzled, his heart soaring.

"Paris, you just called me a faithless bitch. Perhaps you accuse me of what you yourself are guilty of."

"My darling, my little love, you are the only woman in the world who has ever meant anything to me, or ever will," he vowed. "I love you with all my heart."

Her tears of relief spilled over. He picked her up and cradled her. "My little lamb, my honey love," he crooned. "Let's go home tomorrow?"

They did not go down for dinner. Instead they undressed quickly, and he held the covers for her to come in to the warm cocoon where they could delight in each other and shut out the world. "I have been longing to touch you in all my favorite silky-soft places," he whispered.

"Such as?" she asked huskily.

"Behind your knees," and his fingers touched the place he mentioned. "I love this silken place beneath your breasts." He bent to place his lips where his fingers had been. Now his hands went lower, one finger slowly tracing a circle around her navel, then he caressed the inside of her thighs. "Ah, the softest place of all."

She drew in her breath as her nerve endings awoke to an insatiable desire. "Funny, but I like to touch you on all your hard places," she whispered as her hands caressed the hard slabs of muscle in his back.

He groaned. "Oh, God, I'm hard everywhere, at the moment."

She gloried in his bold advances. His hardness was like a searing hot iron against her thighs. It would explore all the secrets of her body with a sureness and thoroughness that blotted out all thought. She knew a quicksilver pain at the thrust of his entrance, replaced by pleasure that widened and deepened into a wild frenzy. She writhed beneath him, gasping his name over and over, begging him for more, and he gave her everything she desired and more. A cry— was it her or him? Then came the pulsing, throbbing release that went on and on, until she curled against him, limp and deliciously exhausted from the passion their bodies had indulged in so shamelessly. She lay touching him, with the new life in her nestled beneath her heart. How many moments of pure bliss such as this would there be in her life? I'll give him a son, she vowed fiercely. I'll give him a son if it's the last thing I do.

It was midday before the large cavalcade of Cockburns started for home, and Paris thought wistfully of how easy it had been when there had been just he and Tabrizia. Damascus pouted all the way home; and Tabrizia knew that she was ripe for marriage. She had flirted outrageously with Hugh Douglas, and Tabrizia thought she would speak to Paris to get things settled with Robert Kerr. She rode up beside him, and he smiled down at the pretty picture she made on the palfrey.

"Paris, at the risk of interfering in your business, I wish you would settle things with Lord Cessford about Damascus. She won't be fit to live with, you know, now that Shannon is married."

He frowned. "She's over young, don't you think?"

"She's the same age as I, and you consider me woman enough."

"Woman enough for what?" he teased.

"Woman enough for anything, judging by last night's performance!"

Their first visitor upon their return to Cockburnspath was the young Laird of Cessford. Apparently, he had missed Damascus so badly, he decided he would approach Paris once more. Paris soon put him out of his misery by telling him he would be more than proud to have him for a brother-in-law. The contracts were signed, and Damascus, finding herself the center of attention and loving every moment, began making plans for the most lavish wedding ever held in the Borders. Robert was hoping for an Easter wedding, but Damascus insisted upon being a June bride, so she could indulge in light dresses, masses of flowers and sunny skies.

An official message arrived from Bothwell, asking that Paris see him in Edinburgh as soon as possible. The meeting took place in Edinburgh Castle, making Cockburn alert and cannily wary, for Edinburgh Castle was a formidable fortress, easier to enter than leave. Bothwell's long legs covered the distance between them in a genial enough welcome. He clapped him on the back and demanded, "What hell-broth have you been brewing?"

Of what am I accused?" Paris smiled blandly

"Not a thing, man. I've a document requires yer signature. Simple as that."

"Document?" Paris echoed innocently.

"Peace bond, man, peace bond."

"Well, I'm truly sorry, Francis, you've been stuck with the damned thing," apologized Paris smoothly.

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