“Now that I think of it, I did think it was very easy to put my arms around your back,” she said, and nipped his chin.
He was a wizard. He found no surprise in what he’d done without even focusing his mind on it. Truth be told, she hadn’t thought of anything either. She’d known something was happening when her body had flown upward into the heavens, but she hadn’t thought, hadn’t begun to realize that even in his own lust his will had preempted hers. His will was the stronger.
She was suddenly afraid. He was the more powerful. To admit that to herself would be to admit to a lesser position. She hated that, and it frightened her. And now this. Had she really conceived, after just one joining? No, it wasn’t possible, was it? When she returned to her oak forest, she would consult the old ghost who was blind but could see into the heart of an oak tree, into a streak of flame, into a witch’s womb.
He was moving again inside her, hard, smooth, deep. “Brecia,” he said into her mouth as he drew her down, “come with me again. We may end up this time back in your fortress. I will set my mind to it if you wish.”
And it was his will that would take them back, not hers. She kissed him and forgot to worry, forgot to be afraid. Lust roared through her, making her ears ring. “Oh, yes,” she whispered against his temple. “Oh, yes.”
Present
Bishop awoke and wanted her again, so powerfully that his brain couldn’t even focus on the specific words that possibly could convince her to let him have her, again.
He merely rolled on top of her, spread her legs, and came into her.
Her eyes snapped open. He was big and he was inside her body. She wasn’t afraid; she wasn’t even overly concerned. She knew to the soles of her bare feet that it would be different now. It was already beginning. He was part of her—such an incredible thing—a man inside your body. He was deep inside her, then pulling back, only to come in again.
She kissed his shoulder. He came up on his elbows.
“Merryn? I swear you will like this.”
“I know,” she said. “I think I’m already beginning to.”
He kissed her, and each time he lifted his mouth off hers, he told her in great detail what he wanted to do to her. And as he spoke, his fingers slid over her belly to find her. She stared up at him. The wildness came over her so quickly, she di
dn’t think, just screamed and screamed again.
She heard him over her, his breathing hard, fast, and then he wrapped his arms around her and rolled onto his back, bringing her over him, and he was still deep inside her, and she didn’t want to scream now, just wanted to mayhap whisper how she felt, let it flow through her, and know that if she had to move she would die on the spot.
She lay on top of him, felt his hands moving down her back, onto her hips, and he was kneading her flesh, squeezing, pressing her down on him, and he said, “What do you think, Merryn? Did you enjoy me?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Oh, yes.” She sounded absurdly pleased with herself.
“Now, we must solve that damned curse so we can marry, because you have conceived my son.”
That gave her back a modicum of strength, and she sat up on him. “Surely that isn’t possible. How would you know such a thing? Surely men don’t even think about that when they begin roaring and pounding.”
“I just know. If you wish to speak about roaring and pounding, then think about the yells that came out of your mouth. You nearly deafened me with your pleasure.”
He had a point there. She said, “You think you are that potent, my lord?”
He pulled her back down, kissed her mouth until she was mewling, little sounds that drove him to madness, and she was moving on him, and he knew she wanted him, again, and he was hard inside her, and once more it began.
“Surely all this can’t be what is done.” She was panting the words and he was drowning in lust, drowning in this seeming endless need for her.
“Oh, yes, this is just right. Trust me. Scream for me again, Merryn.”
And she did. On the other hand, he yelled like a drunk warrior attacked by bandits. Merryn imagined just before she felt into an exhausted sleep, that after all this, she should be pregnant with at least three strapping sons.
She heard a laugh as she sank into sleep. Not a man’s laugh, a woman’s. Was it her? Her mouth wasn’t moving, was it? But then the laugh was gone, and the air was still. She breathed in his scent, tasted the sweat of his shoulder, and smiled. She fell asleep with his heart pounding solid and steady against hers.
26
BISHOP LEANED OVER THE black hole, waiting to be slapped again, waiting to hear that laugh again.
Nothing. There was no movement in the air, no sense that something else was near, something that he should understand, should be able to see, or sense, or at least feel.
He had a torch with him. He raised it high over the hole. He saw only blackness. He held it down in the hole. Nothing but darkness—no ladder, nothing.