Page 23 of While Angels Slept (de Lohr Dynasty #1)

He understood, feeling guilt sweep him yet again. “Cantia,” he murmured. “I am so sorry. You are still grieving and I’ve been nothing but overbearing and forceful with you. Forgive me, sweet.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “You’ve not been overbearing or forceful at all.

Moreover, at any time I could have refused you.

I’ve not refused because I’ve not wanted to.

I explained this to you, Tevin… what I feel for you is completely separate from what I have felt, or continue to feel, for Brac.

I cannot sleep on a bed that smells of him because it is a fresh reminder of his loss every time I breathe it in.

I will never heal if I continue to do that.

And for my sake, for Hunt’s sake, I must heal. ”

Tevin sighed, pulling her head to his lips and kissing her forehead. “I shall have the bed removed if it pleases you.”

“I think that is best.”

“No more sleeping on the floor. You’ll catch chill.”

She smiled weakly. “As you say,” the mood between them, so passionate only moments earlier, had cooled. She continued to study him. “So is this the end of your onslaught for the day?”

His brow furrowed, somewhere between amusement and puzzlement. “Considering the circumstances, it probably should be, don’t you think?”

She put her hands on his face, pressing her thinly clad body against his bare chest. “Nay, I do not,” she whispered. “I would resume where we left off.”

He couldn’t help it. His arms went around her and his want for her ignited full-strength once again. He was coming to realize his fire for her was very easily stoked. As she lifted her mouth to him for a kiss, he spoke softly.

“Are you sure?”

“More than sure.”

“On the floor?”

Her lips met his. “On the floor.”

Mouths locked in a passionate embrace, Tevin went to his knees and Cantia with him.

He laid her back on the mound of jumbled bedclothes, one hand behind her head and the other moving up her slender torso.

Her breasts were full and luscious in his hand and he was suddenly very intolerant of the shift that still lingered between them.

He pulled it off, indelicately, leaving her completely nude.

He gazed at her a moment in the weak light of the chamber, his breath literally catching in his throat.

He’d never seen anything so beautiful. Quickly, his breeches came off and he smothered her with his massive form.

Instinct took hold. Tevin kissed her so passionately that Cantia’s head swam.

She couldn’t breathe with the force of his lust. His big hands moved the length and breadth of her body, hot and gentle yet powerful.

When he closed over a bare breast, she encouraged him.

When his heated mouth finally descended on a taut nipple, she held his head fast against her.

Her body was wracked with excitement as his lips moved over every inch of her sweet, round breasts.

Since she was not a maiden, there was no fear when he wedged his big body between her legs.

They parted easily for him, inviting him into intimate places.

Tevin accepted the invitation and plunged deeply into her, listening to her gasps of pleasure.

Gathering her up in his arms to both hold her close and to support his enormous weight, he began his measured thrusts into her sweet body, overwhelmed by the smell and feel of her.

She was slick and tight. Never in his life had he experienced anything so wonderful.

Never in his life had he expected to. But the lady cradled in his arms was just this side of heaven.

He savored every thrust, every withdrawal, feeling her body draw him in deeper and deeper.

His mouth reclaimed hers, kissing her deeply.

He loved the taste of her. Cantia’s hands were on his hard buttocks, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his flesh.

In the throes of her passion, she drew blood, causing Tevin to spill himself deep inside her.

The frenzied pleasure-pain had been too much for him to take and it was a wicked enjoyment he experienced.

Even after he savored his release, he continued to move in her.

There was far too much fire and passion for him not to continue lingering over the deliciousness of their union.

He continued to move in her, to kiss her, long into the evening.

But at some point he did stop, and at some point, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

They slept soundly on the floor in a disarray of bed clothes that now smelled like Tevin.

*

The bottle prison was black but for the glow of a distant torch that filtered in through the opening in the ceiling.

Charles could barely see his hand before his face, which is why he had taken to sleeping a great deal.

There was nothing more to do. Moreover, sleep brought dreams, visions of Brac and he found comfort with his son.

But then he would awaken, realize it had been but a dream, and close his eyes to beg for sleep once again.

He had no idea how long he had been in the pit.

Long enough, however, for his madness to grow .

Since the prison was so silent, the sounds of footsteps immediately roused him from his stupor.

It was like hammer sounds in the deep. He leapt to his feet, unsteadily, straining to see who it was that approached from above.

After a moment, he could see a face looming in the darkness but could not make out any features. His heart began to race.

“Who is it?” he demanded. “Announce yourself.”

“It is Dagan, my lord,” the knight lowered his face so that Charles could see clear his features. “I came to see how you are faring.”

Charles looked up at the knight in the hole, recognizing him as one of the knights who had imprisoned him.

“I am still in my own dungeon, fool. How would you be?”

Dagan lifted an eyebrow. “My lord, I suggested the last time I saw you that a display of good behavior could possibly see you released from your confinement.”

Charles put his hands on his hips. “Are you in charge of my dungeons now?”

“Lord Tevin has given assignments to his men. I hold the dungeons and the gatehouse.”

“Then let me out.”

“I cannot, my lord. Not without orders.”

A food basket came down to him, lowered by a rope. Charles ignored it for a few moments, thinking to make a statement, but reconsidered when he realized how hungry he was. He did not know when last he ate. He grabbed the bread and mutton and chewed noisily. The basket was reeled back up.

“Did you consider my offer?” he called up to Dagan.

The knight knelt beside the opening. “What offer is that, my lord?”

“My son’s wife for my freedom.”

Dagan’s attention lingered on the old man below.

He was half-hoping to hear the question, half-hoping he would not.

Truth be told, he was struggling. Dagan was an honorable knight, but he was also growing old and fewer opportunities were presenting themselves.

Though the offer came from a madman, still, he could not completely discount it.

He had actually allowed himself to entertain it and felt like a devil for doing so.

“I have not, my lord,” he lied.

“Why not?”

“Because it is not reasonable, nor is it possible.”

“But it is. Rochester, and my son’s widow, belongs to me. They are mine to do with as I please, and I would offer Lady Cantia to you in exchange for my freedom.”

Dagan sighed heavily. “Though your offer is generous, I cannot seriously consider it. In the first place, to release you from this prison would be in direct violation of my liege’s order.

Secondly, the lady and I would have nowhere to go.

I do not have property and I would surely have to take her from this place. ”

“But she has property,” Charles stopped chewing when he realized he might actually be able to bargain himself from this hell. “Her father left her two manors. They would belong to you if you married her.”

“And where are these magnificent homes?”

“Gillingham is a fortified home to the west and Darland is another home a few miles to the southwest. They are wealthy holdings with grain and sheep production.”

It was odd how Charles did not sound so much like a madman at all when discussing his daughter-in-law’s holdings.

Still, Dagan was not convinced. He was filled with guilt for even listening to the offer, but there was selfishness in him.

He was almost forty years old and had nothing to show for it.

A beautiful widow and her lands would be a small price to pay for disobeying his liege.

Moreover, he could declare himself an independent lord with such wealth through marriage to Penden’s widow.

These were desperate times. He had to take what he could.

“Even if I were to accept your offer, my lord, were I to release you, Lord Tevin would simply capture you again,” he said. “You could not stay here.”

“Rochester is my home,” Charles rumbled. “I am the Steward. ”

“But du Reims is your liege.”

Charles tossed aside the half-eaten mutton. “Surely you know that what he has done to me is not right,” his voice was low and pleading. “The man has imprisoned me in my own dungeon so that he may steal my fortress. Do you not see this?”

“He imprisoned you because you were a danger. Your grief has made you mad.”

Charles threw down the bread and lifted his hands, like claws, into the weak light that streamed down into his cell.

“There is no madness in my observations. Tell me that he and my son’s wife are not conspiring against me as we speak.

Tell me that du Reims has not taken over every aspect of Rochester.

He wanted to be rid of me to confiscate my holding and has used any excuse he could think of to do so. Can you not see that?”