Page 101 of The Forsaken
“Any better?” Kate’s voice came out in a whisper, as if she were afraid to be overhead, but she needn’t have bothered. Guy’s bedchamber was the only occupied room on the upper floor, and with the dense silence of the slumbering keep and the howling ofthe wind outside, it was as if they were the only two people awake in the whole world, safe in their tower.
“Thank you,” Guy said softly. He reached up and took hold of her wrists, his touch gentle on the sprain she’d suffered a week ago. He lowered her hands but didn’t release her. Instead, he pulled her closer, bringing her face within an inch of his. Their eyes met, his full of longing, hers wide with panic. She knew she should pull away from him, cross to the other side of the room where she’d be safe, or better yet, wish him a good night, and return to her own bedchamber and her husband, but she wasn’t about to do any of those things.
Perhaps it was the effect of the drink, or the ever-present desperation that gnawed at her insides, but Guy’s nearness made her feel safe and loved. She hadn’t even realized she’d leaned closer to him until his lips captured hers and his arm slid around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Guy’s kiss wasn’t tender or loving; it was demanding, hot, and full of desire. Kate had never been kissed like that, not even in the early days of her marriage when Hugh had still played at being a lover.
Kate leaned into Guy, allowing herself this moment of abandon. His kiss stripped away all reservations and doubts, leaving behind a need so powerful it frightened her. A bud of desire bloomed in her belly, and the throbbing and moistness between her legs caught her by surprise. This was unchartered territory, and she was lost in its magical terrain, desperate to learn its secrets.
Guy got to his feet and turned her around so her legs pressed against the bed. He pushed her down with a gentle but firm hand, letting her know there was no going back. The attraction between them had been simmering since the night they met, and after nearly four years of frustrated desire, it was about to boil over. Guy pushed up Kate’s skirts, exposing her thighs and hips. She’d never willingly opened up to Hugh, but now she spread her legs, offering herself up to Guy like a shameless wanton.
She expected him to use his fingers as Hugh sometimes did when she wasn’t ready for him, but Guy did something utterly unexpected. He sank to his knees and buried his face between her legs, tasting and exploring her so intimately it made her legs tremble. Her face felt flushed, and desire writhed in her belly and coiled like a snake as something unknown and primal built within her. She grabbed Guy by the hair, forcing him to stop.
“Now. Please,” she begged. “I can’t take any more.”
Guy leaned over her. His eyes were hooded with desire and his lips tasted of her as he kissed her hard. He stifled her cry with his mouth as he slid inside her, claiming her with one hard thrust. Her delicate tissue stretched around him as he filled the void inside her, making her feel whole for the first time in her adult life. With Hugh, she always lay still, waiting for him to finish, but now she felt driven to lift her hips to meet Guy’s, desperate to take him in deeper and deeper until he slammed against her womb with every thrust, the exquisite combination of pleasure and pain finally pushing her over the edge. Waves of unspeakable pleasure radiated from her core, pulsing around Guy’s shaft as he reached his own climax.
Guy rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and his brow damp with perspiration. He remained inside her, their bodies joined as one.
“I love you, Kate,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you since I woke to find you praying over me in that ruined chapel.”
His eyes opened and searched hers, as though he needed to know she wasn’t sorry. As Kate opened her mouth to reassure him, she realized she truly wasn’t. She had no regrets. Not yet. She felt alive for the first time in years and the feeling was heady, and dangerous. She knew she should go to church tomorrow, confess, and do penance, but she wasn’t repentant. No number of Hail Marys would put out the fire in her soul or erase Guy from her heart. Tomorrow, the harsh reality of her situation and the unbearable weight of her sin would reassert themselves, but tonight, she was free, and she was in love.
“You’re mine now,” Guy said as he rolled off her to take the strain off his right arm.
“I belong to Hugh. You know that,” Kate replied. The words felt wrong in her mouth, like bitter fruit that hadn’t ripened into something delicious, but this wasn’t a truth she could spit out. This particular reality had to be swallowed, every day of her life.
“Not for much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“Will you leave him if I find a way for us to be together?” Guy demanded.
“I’m his wife.”
“Will you leave him?” he asked again.
Kate hesitated.
For only a moment, Guy’s eyes flashed with anger and hurt. “I won’t share you with him. Say the word and I’ll be gone by morning.”
Kate reached out and cupped Guy’s cheek, looking deep into the blue pools of his despair. “Don’t go. Please,” she whispered. “I can’t go on without you. I don’t know how. I hadn’t realized how empty I felt with you gone, how broken. But what we’ve just done is a sin, in the eyes of God and man. We can’t love each other openly.”
“I would risk hell and damnation for even one more day with you,” Guy said.
“Hugh would kill us both if he found out,” Kate said, knowing it to be true.
“Aye, he would. But if I leave you again, I’ll be dead anyhow because I’d be leaving my heart here, and I can’t survive without it.”
Kate allowed Guy to pull her close and rested her cheek against his chest. He was so solid, and so warm. He held her against him, his limbs intertwined with hers, like two parts of one whole. The beating of his heart was like the steady beat of a drum—a drum calling a soldier to war, for Guy had just declared war on his brother.
SIXTY-TWO
AUGUST 2014
London, England
The day of Emma’s birthday party dawned sunny and bright. Emma was delighted since she had fretted that it would rain. She danced before the mirror as she tried on outfit after outfit, eager to choose just the right one. She’d picked out a frock last week, then changed her mind. She’d settled on another dress two days ago, then had gone back to the original outfit last night, but when she woke in the morning, she had doubts once again and proclaimed the chosen dress to be all wrong.
“You might want to wear trousers,” Quinn pointed out. “It’ll be cold on the ice. You can change into a dress after the ice skating if you like.”
