The Strength of Baffin Page 17

  His passionate words heated her blood, his hard sculpted body setting her skin ablaze even through her chemise. “Take me now.”

  “Shhh…” He coaxed, helping her out of the launder-worn chemise. “In due time, I will. Thank God you don’t wear those abominable corsets.”

  And then his mouth was hot on her collarbone, his tongue gliding down to the swell of her right breast. Jolin gasped, arching upwards and almost shattering to a million pieces as her nipple was sucked into Tethran’s warm welcoming mouth. He groaned, licking and feasting on her breasts till she was writhing in his arms, her voice almost not her own as she heard herself begging him for more.

  Jolin moaned as Tethran’s fingers moved over the low curls of her sex and slid along the damp crease of her mons. It must be the wickedest of sins to feel so good, to be so very near to bursting and yet still want more. So much more. She gasped, “That feels… That feels so…” Her body jerked as a finger caressed the tip of her sensitive nub, her legs clamping shut and trapping his dexterous hand.

  Tethran’s pleased chuckle came just as he managed to wrestle her thighs apart and remove his hand. Through tear dampened eyes, she could see him smiling down at her, the heavy moonlight that flooded through the window casting him in an angelic spotlight. Heaven help her, but she could not help smiling back even as she felt a sweltering blush ran a course over her entire body. And he saw it. In fact, Tethran LeMark stared smugly down at her flushed body, his eyes flickering to the junction of her parted legs. Jolin’s face scorched even hotter and she made to adjust herself when he pushed them open even wider.

  “Never hide from me, sweet Jolin,” he muttered, easing up to his knees. “You’re beauty deserves to be properly praised.”

  She gulped, blinking up at him. This man; so imperfect and yet so perfect made her feel as if she was the most beautiful woman in all of Baffin. But did he know how aesthetic he was, scars and all? Did he know how much she desired to nip and kiss at him just as he’d done to her? How she envisioned them together for a very long time? How she was falling deeply and incandescently in love with him?

  “I want to kiss you,” she said, reclining on her elbows. “Let me kiss you the way you’ve kissed me.”

  Tethran smiled, his gaze unwavering and blazing with a passion Jolin didn’t think she’d witness in a human being’s eyes. “Eager, are you?”

  “Yes.” Her gaze slid down his body and settled boldly on his thick erection. She licked her lips and heard him groan. Feeling suddenly dauntless, guided by her own peaking need, Jolin reached forward to touch it. Her fingers had merely brushed the swollen tip when he released a whistling hiss and trapped her wrist in his hand, pulling it away from his person.

  “Not yet, little minx. I’m not as strong as you think and I have no intention of spilling my seed just yet. Now, lay back.”

  Jolin immediately did as he commanded, her breasts and lower belly tingling with the same flush of excitement her heart was. She swallowed tightly, near to breaking, as he eased off the bed. Then his hands were locked around her ankles, dragging her down the full length of the mattress, her bottom positioned at the very edge.

  “What--?” Her eyes widened as Tethran lowered on his knees to the floor, his head clearly emplaced in the space between the vee of her thighs. “What are you--?”

  His head lowered but his eyes were fixed on hers. “Tasting you.”

  Surely he didn’t mean to taste her there. Jolin scrambled up on her elbows but his arms held her firmly in place. “But--”

  “Do not deny me, Jolin.”

  Then his face dipped to her exposed sex, and Tethran’s tongue flicked wickedly over the crease of her mons, teasing the nub of her womanhood with such roguish expertise. She sucked in a long shaky breath as her arms trembled and her elbows gave way beneath her.

  “Oh….G-gooddd!” She tore her eyes open and gazed down her shaking body as Tethran licked and sucked at her tender sex. “Don’t--” She released a throaty groan and gasped, blinded with the sensations of what he was doing to her. “--you dare stop!”

  He worked her with his wicked tongue until she stiffened, fingers knotting tightly in his thick long locks. She moaned, mewled, gasped for breath but Tethran did not let up and soon she found herself reaching for something that she had no way of holding on to. With a ragged breath, he pressed one final kiss to her sex and eased to his feet, licking his lips. “So sweet.”

  Jolin fought dearly to catch her breath. What an utterly, damnable, stunning man!

  And then he plunged into her, hard and fast, working her body and mind into a state of complete and unfathomable ecstasy until both of them were panting, breathless with their fill of each other.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “I’m not jealous, just so you know.”

  Tethran chuckled, watching as the two horses grazed on the open field just a half mile south of the bustle of the city’s square. It was a green patch of land that would make a great spot for crops if one allowed it. But he suspected the capital’s residents were far more interested in the more carnal side of goods and services than diligent husbandry. And there were probably twenty times the number of whores in the city than visitors in the chapel on a daily basis, which made him wonder why there was even a chapel in the first place. For appearance purposes, he supposed. The local priests must be fat with ease. But who was he to judge?

  “I didn’t think you were.” He perched himself on a thick flat rock beneath a large willow tree and leaned against its trunk.

  “Well, you don’t need to look so smug about it.”

  He laughed this time and plucked a fallen decaying leaf from his shoulder. “You surprise me, Sinclair. Arguing over my attentions to a woman? I wouldn’t have ever thought it.”

  “You damn well thought it. And it’s you that I don’t understand. All this sweet charm all of a sudden makes me want to slap that damn smile off your face. Miss Crymble has turned you into a love-crazed fool while I much preferred you as an obnoxious fool.”

  Tethran bit back another chuckle. “I thought you were the one who thought I’d be better off with a woman now that I’m set to retire?”

  Sinclair’s eyes narrowed and he bent to pick up a stone, flinging it across the field. His stallion snorted as it landed near one back foot. “Well damn me for suggesting. I never thought you’d actually take my advice. Who knew you had a heart in that granite chest of yours.”

  Tethran stared out at the lush fields, studying the lush vegetation before tilting his face to admire the clear afternoon sky. “Who knew, indeed.”

  His friend grunted with disapproval and lowered to his haunches, harshly plucking a few stems of weed from the earth. “I am jealous. Damn, bloody jealous but not in the way you think. You look all content and I know it’s because of Miss Crymble. And I know I won’t be at peace until I get my sister out of that hell hole.” He scoffed. “To think of the things she must be…” Sinclair broke off and drew in an audible breath. “It’s no use thinking about that, now is there?”

  Tethran felt inclined to agree with him but decided the man needed some form of comfort, even if it meant offering some consoling words. If any one told him some weeks ago that he’d be this sentimental, he’d have gladly cut their tongue out and shoved it down their throats. Sighing resignedly, he reached over and rest a hand on Sinclair’s shoulder. The man flinched, turned his head and looked at it as if a fresh load of cow’s excrement had just landed there instead.

  “If you’re thinking of shrugging off my hand, just know I don’t particularly cherish touching you either,” he said, tone light but tightening his grip. “But you need to save your energy for saving Josephine instead of using it to eat up your own guts. With all that she’s likely been through, she’ll need your strength to fuel hers. When she sees you, she’ll need you looking all courageous and heroic.”

  Sinclair’s flinty glare shifted to collide with Tethran’s before his eyes widened a fraction. “My god, now you’ve turned into
a philosophical fool!”

  Tethran’s hand fell and his mouth pinched tight. “I’m serious, goddamn you. If I have to slap some sense into that thick head of yours, I will. So long as you take it, as you deserve: like a man and not try to hit me back.”

  “Why? Because Miss Crymble wouldn’t be pleased with nursing your battered face?”

  He decided to ignore Sinclair’s teasing tone. “My face is already ugly enough, I doubt she’d be surprised if you fractured my jaw.”

  “Well, that would certainly stop you from kissing her for a while--”

  “You’re being an asshole on purpose and I’m reconsidering blackening your other eye just for the fun of it.”

  Sinclair chuckled then, returning his gaze to the field. “Don’t tax yourself with trying to console me. I’m made of tough stuff. Hell, you’ve forgotten I’m still the same man who slits throats for a living.”

  “So am I.” So. Am. I. Tethran sighed inwardly. Jolin had not held that against him, though, and for that he was grateful. But it was just a matter of time before she challenged him about it and he supposed it was her right. A part of him had surrendered that right from the moment he’d first tasted her lips. She was a sweet woman; someone he could enjoy his intended life of solitude with. If she wanted that, of course.

  “Don’t be catching my moody temperament now, LeMark. It doesn’t suit you anymore. After I get back Josephine, I plan on finding sweet solace between the legs of one of Madame Rafira’s doxy girls.” Sinclair stretched one leg out and rubbed his knee. “I’m thinking of setting Jo up in a nice cottage in Dumbar. I sort of like the peacefulness of that village when we’d passed through. Then, I’ll happily return to ridding low-life scums from this world.” He paused a moment and shook his head. “You’ve gotten soft, LeMark, and I don’t blame you. Miss Crymble is a damn beauty. But if that can happen to you, it damn sure can happen to me and I haven’t the heart yet to be trapped by a woman. No matter how pretty she is.”

  Tethran grunted, mulling over Sinclair’s words. Trapped; was that what he was? “Nice speech. You’d do even better as a philosophical fool that I ever could be.”

  “Ugly bastard. I hope she cuts that overgrown hair of yours and teach you some manners.”

  The tension in the air lightened at that moment and Tethran was grateful. It meant Sinclair was heeding his advice. Glancing behind him towards the road that led into the city, his eyes then narrowed on the formidable towers of Castle Iqa. “I wonder… Since we’ve been here, I hardly ever see the alderman’s guards beyond the castle gates.”

  “That’s because they’re not guards,” Sinclair grunted. “But his marionetted henchmen, summoned to do his dirty work only when necessary. Like strip a woman bare, hack her arm off and whip her to death before the entire fucking square.”

  Tethran would not ever rid that scene from his memory even if he tried. The alderman had allowed such barbarity to take place and he suspected the evil dictator had earned a special place in the torments of hell for it. Alderman de Gesch would certainly not die a peaceful death; even the heavens would not be so kind.

  “He’s a bastard who’ll die one day of a slow-moving consumption. I suspect he’d be dead already if any one was truly suicidal enough to try.”

  His friend jumped to his feet. “Don’t underestimate me, LeMark. If any one dares stand in my way of rescuing Josephine, this time I’ll not be merciful--”

  Sinclair’s words were cut off sharply and Tethran shot to his feet when he noticed his friend’s pale, strained face. It took him one more shocked second to realize that Sinclair was clutching the right side of his chest, blood oozing over his fingers. He rushed forward.

  “Goddamn it, what--” He dragged a swearing Sinclair quickly behind the tree and made out the hilt of a dagger embedded deep inside hard flesh. Anger splurged through his blood and Tethran glanced up, surveying the area. “Keep pressure on the wound! Do not move.”

  “I’ll kill the bastard who--”

  “Save your blasted breath, Sinclair. You’ll need it!”

  Tethran reached inside the side of his boot and withdrew a knife, crouching low. He could not make out a soul, nor where the dagger could have been aimed from. The field was wide open for all to be seen. Even the horses seemed unbothered in their grazing. He slid around the tree trunk and tugged another blade from his waist when he heard a sharp crunch of dry twigs and instantly turned left.

  “Watch out!” came Sinclair’s weak shout.

  Tethran rolled across the ground just in time to miss the fatal throw of another dagger. He manoeuvred to his feet immediately to come almost face to face with the ugliest bastard he’d ever seen. Goddamn it, the burly man was bigger and taller than he was which was a damn inconvenience seeing that Sinclair desperately needed to be seen by a physician before be bled to death. Tethran growled. Not on his watch!

  “You’re not hard to find,” the beast spat, fingers clenching around a long knife that had a curved end. “ ‘Just find the ugly fucker who looks like he could use a new face’, he’d said.”

  Tethran’s jaws clenched, darting a brief glance to where Sinclair lay. His friend’s face had grown ashen. He would have to make this kill quick. “Who sent you?”

  The man circled him tactically and Tethran followed suit. The bastard was big enough to overpower him if he allowed even the slightest of mistakes. He had no intention of dying today and neither would Sinclair.

  “Someone who wants to teach you a lesson. You didn’t keep up your end of a bargain, I hear.”

  Tethran swallowed. So the guv who’d hired him to kill Jolin’s father had discovered he hadn’t carried out the job. Took him long enough. He registered the sound of Sinclair’s laboured breathing and decided that he’d had enough of the chatting. He needed to finish this cutthroat off now before it was too late. So he decided to goad him, “Too bad you won’t be alive to bring back my message to your spineless employer.”

  And just as he’d expected, the brute exploded in a fit of rage and dove towards him, armed hand raised and ready to slice through anything in its way. Tethran ducked beneath the powerful swish of the knife but the man’s other hand connected him straight under the chin with a force that almost knocked him off his feet. His knife dropped from his right hand as pain shot up his jaw, rattling his teeth so hard he could taste the metallic flavour of fresh blood. He stumbled, but regained his footing just in time to sidestep the man and deliver a sharp uppercut of his own. He sent his fist again into the man’s square face but he had no time to take joy in the beating.

  Releasing a frustrated growl, Tethran did what any practical man would do in order to save time and energy. He took advantage of the man’s momentary distraction, swung his booted foot right back, and then released it deftly into the brute’s crotch. A loud guttural bellow flew up from the man’s mouth as he crumbled hard to his knees, veins popping in a face that had instantly gone deathly pallid. Tethran wasted no time after that, and even as the cutthroat’s bloodshot eyes widened with dread, he felt no remorse as he sunk the blade of his dagger deep inside the man’s neck. He was dead even before Tethran sprung towards Sinclair, who seemed to have lost consciousness. Pressing two shaky fingers to the base of his friend’s throat, Tethran hissed when he found an unsteady pulse. Cursing, he ran towards his stallion and led him back to the tree before struggling to lever Sinclair’s weight over the unsaddled back. Sinclair would live, he would. He’d better fucking live!

  Tethran climbed in behind his friend and sent the stallion into a gallop, racing like the devil was on their heels. As he sped into the square, eyes were wide with shock and some narrowed in curiosity but no one made any move to help. Thank God, Mr. Smythe had been stepping outside the front door of his tavern just in time.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” the older man cried. “What in the blazes happened?”

  “No time to talk, man! Send for a physician and lend your assistance here.”

  A couple maids stood, mouth
s agape and Mr. Smythe barked at one of them, “Shut your mouth, Meg, and go fetch Mr. Dunley fast! Tell him I’m dying!” He then stepped in to help Tethran lift his friend’s body and spat on the board flooring. “He owes me a favour, that Mr. Dunley. He’d better be here before my spit dries, I tell you!”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Jolin jumped away from the doorway as Tethran and Mr. Smythe rushed inside the room, carrying a groaning and bloodied Sinclair. Slapping a hand over her mouth to stop herself from gagging, she rushed to strip the top coverlet off the bed to accommodate them.

  “What happened?” she asked, noting Sinclair’s silent grimace and Tethran’s stormy visage. “No, don’t answer that.” She turned to the tavern’s owner. “Mr. Smythe! A physician?!”

  The older man swiped sweat from his forehead and sucked in a breath, bracing his back with one hand. “Already sent to fetch him, ma’am. He should be here directly.”