A Wanton's Thief Read online

  “It feels…” she gasped, “like sweet sin.” Salena couldn’t suppress the audible moan that echoed out across the quiet night forest. “I-I can almost taste the delicious desire of it!”

  “I heard your thoughts. It’s never felt quite like this before, has it?”

  “N-no, never.”

  “Do you like it when I do this?” He flickered his thumb faster, further engorging her knot.

  She arched toward his hand. “Yes…oh, yes, I… I love it when you do that! Oh,” she swallowed, longing to raise her hands up to hold onto him. “Please don’t stop. It—something’s about to happen, to…to… Oh heavens, please do it harder, quicker.”

  He immediately obeyed, and the empowerment of that little bit of control soothed her buried ire one small measure. But she didn’t have time to think of that or anything else—not even of the spatters of cold rain that began to fall and sizzle upon her flesh. He tightened his hold on her and lifted her several inches so that his cock was positioned between the mounds of her ass. Pulling her back tighter, the globes—still covered by the fabric of her gown and cape—were forced apart by the thickness of his rod. He twisted and ground her against him, further spreading her ass until she could feel the shaft against her cloth-covered hole. The combined pleasure and shock of it seemed to slap her full-force across the face. She blinked, stiffening automatically at the extremity of such a personal position.

  But she couldn’t protest for long. On a devil’s mission, Falcon whirled her in a dance of utter shame and delicious desire. He ground her hole against the length of him, awakening nerves she didn’t know existed. As if that weren’t enough, he picked up the cadence of those adept fingers, strumming her with one hand. The other rose to clutch at her breast, plucking the already hard nipple until bolts of pleasure shot down to meet with the inferno at her juncture. The horse trotted on, further jarring her against Falcon’s assault.

  Breathless, she could no longer restrain herself. “Please, let me raise my arms to hold on to you,” she begged, now beyond humiliation, in desperate need of complete fulfillment. With every ounce of strength she possessed, she turned her head so that she could look into his eyes, so that he could transmit to her what she needed. They were but narrowed gems set within the slits of the mask, and she knew then, empowered further by the knowledge of it, that he too felt the loss of control, the euphoric edges of bliss.

  “Permission granted. Raise your arms up and behind you, Salena. Hold onto my neck because you’re going to need the support when ecstasy claims you.”

  With a sigh of relief, the tingly sensation in her arms accompanied that of the spell releasing them from its paralyzing hold. Overjoyed by the freedom of it, she shot her arms up behind her and clasped her hands behind his neck. That was all she needed. Now able to gain leverage and press her ass tighter into him, her hole began to twitch and tingle. She could hear the rasping of his breath, feel the hotness of it on her cheek, smell her own juices wafting up to mingle with that of his manly scent. Combined with the cool raindrops falling on her exposed legs, the aura of the mysterious and dark forest that surrounded them, and the fact that he pleasured her as they rode, nothing could have brought her to deeper depths of that unfamiliar bliss.

  Except the daggers of hot passion that suddenly—blessedly—pierced her core. The sharp waves of it rippled through her deep center, into her rear, and out over every cell of her body.

  “Holy knights of war!” she screamed on a shudder. “Oh, yes! Ah!” she added when one last swell washed through her.

  Before she could shake her head and bring herself back to the mortifying reality of what had just occurred, he had her turned upon his lap, once again sitting sideways.

  His hand raked through her hair until he held her behind the neck, forcing her to look into his glazed eyes. Salena could smell her own scent upon his hand. She watched, enchanted against her will as the rain dribbled from the brim of his hat and fell cold and spent onto the leather of his jerkin.

  He panted, condensation swirling from his mouth and nostrils. “Woman, you tempt me beyond madness. If it weren’t for the fact that we must move on quickly, else risk discovery, I’d throw you to the wet earth and sink myself between your beautiful, creamy legs!”

  The words had the very same effect on her as his fingers had. But she knew now was the perfect time to use what he’d given her back—free use of her limbs. Jerking her stare from his magnetic one, she made a sudden, rash decision, flung herself from the horse and tumbled to the ground. She heard him curse a profanity at the exact moment her breath was knocked from her.

  Salena gasped for air, her chest on fire. Fool! The bloody horse had to be at least seventeen hands high. And you just barely escaped suicide by daring to jump from the beast’s back!

  And too late she realized he still had her legs under siege of his immobilizing spell in which she could only walk if he gave her permission. She could not get up and run! Fear now returning to grip her with the force of a mighty storm, she planted her hands on the soggy, fallen leaves. Salena dragged her inert lower body behind her and into the deep brush with frantic movements. She pulled herself, grimacing at the deadweight her upper body was forced to haul, while her shoulders and arms burned with the effort.

  It was then, just when she thought she’d outwitted her captor that her head bumped into a solid trunk. The aroma of wet leather and soil filled her nostrils. Her eyes rounded with fear while her gaze slowly rose up the long length of a pair of legs clad in Lincoln-green braies and knee-high leather boots.

  And her heart ceased beating in her chest. Her breath stilled and lodged somewhere inside her windpipe at the picture he made standing there in the drizzly night rain. This fearsome warrior couldn’t be the same as the tender man of moments ago who’d given her choices. But she had a feeling her days of options and controlling her own destiny were over.

  His fists were planted on narrow hips as he looked down at her. Salena thought she’d never seen a more foreboding sight than that of her ruthless abductor, Falcon Montague, silhouetted against blackened gnarly branches and the fat silver ball of the moon. She couldn’t see his eyes through the mask or the shadows, but she knew they were there, felt them touch on her with scorching accuracy.

  “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  She choked on her words. Through gritted teeth, she replied, “Away from you, you—you ogre!”

  He clamped his lower lip between his teeth in a lame attempt to stifle the explosive rumble of an amused laugh. “Ogre? You think an ogre could elicit even a smidgen of the passion I easily wrought from you not moments ago, Lady Salena?”

  Oh, how she loathed the sound of her name upon his tongue, and yet…

  “What do you want from me?” she hissed, digging her fingers into the wet dirt.

  “Why, nothing but your safety. You see, I don’t wish you to break your bloody neck, my love.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the cloak billowing in the chilly breeze. With the mask and the arrogant stance, she thought of a knight at court guarding the king with one eye, while the other roved to plan his next victim of seduction.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “What? My love?”

  “Yes, your love. I’m not that in the least, and never will be!”

  She caught the glint of straight white teeth by a stray beam of moonlight. “We shall see.”

  “I’ll ask you again,” she snarled. “What do you want from me?”

  “And I’ll tell you again, siren.” He squatted down on his haunches and pushed back a stray lock of her damp hair. Tenderly, he tucked it behind her ear. Her heart skipped a beat, but she tore her gaze from his before he could enthrall her with his magic. “I seek naught but your safety and preservation of life,” he went on.

  Damn her traitorous nerves, but the affectionate move nearly rendered her speechless. Nearly. “What, sir, are you babbling about?”

  He reached for her, and though she stiffened, she ha
d no choice but to allow him to draw her into his arms. Never mind the fact that she suddenly wanted to be there again. She was no fool. The ground was entirely too cold, wet and uncomfortable to remain as she was. Already, she shivered uncontrollably, though she suspected it was more due to this man than the dank weather.

  He rose, her body tucked against his warm chest, and said matter-of-factly, “I babble about your life, madam. This very night, I was privy to a conversation within the walls of your own keep that left me no other choice but to rescue you from the sure demise of your impending death.”

  “Death?” She croaked it out, that word being the last she’d hoped to hear.

  He sauntered toward the stallion, glowing eerie and black as coal against the backdrop of dense woods. “Aye, death. I overheard your murder being plotted.” He helped her up to the bare back of the beast. The animal snorted in protest, throwing his head back so that she caught her first glimpse of a bright white star on its nose. At Falcon’s sharp reprimand, the Friesian calmed obediently. Falcon climbed up behind her, settled in by setting her before him once again and urged the horse onward.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “My murder? Sir, you are quite daft. There is no one within my hall who would see me dead. I am loved to distraction by serf, servant and family alike. You must be sorely mistaken—or rather, lying.”

  He clicked his tongue and the war stallion burst into a gallop. Cold wind rushed up her skirts and blew her hair back against Falcon’s chest. “Nay. No mistake.” He reached up and placed the hood of her cloak over her head. The move struck another soft spot in her heart, but she forced herself to ignore it.

  “True, you’re loved by all—all but one man. ‘Lady Salena must die’ were his exact words. I heard them clear and concise as I hid in the study.”

  “And why were you hiding? Because you were caught in your act of thievery?”

  Salena just didn’t—nay, couldn’t or wouldn’t—believe this man’s ridiculous tale. It just wasn’t feasible. Everyone loved her—she didn’t have a single enemy in all of England, in all of the world! Which led her to believe Mr. Montague plotted something very sinister. Why else would he conjure up such a horrid fable? To make her believe he hadn’t really kidnapped her, but in reality, had saved her life? Or perhaps it was to justify in his own sick mind, the illegal activities he’d performed, or to draw attention away from them.

  But one question stayed uppermost in her mind… why would a complete stranger not of her castle’s territorial realm care if she lived or died? He couldn’t possibly be concerned with her well-being—could he?

  Ha! She’d be a fool to fall into this diabolical trap of his. Already, he had her spun inside some web of seduction she had difficulty fighting her way out of. But that was only when he used his sorcery upon her—wasn’t it? No, she scolded herself. He gave you choices, he allowed you to say no. But she’d said yes. Lord help her, she’d taken leave of all her senses!

  Salena settled into the folds of his warm cloak to plan her next attempt at escape and to ponder her most recent behavior. So, to summarize, she thought with self-disgust…she was a woman with hidden, wanton desires in the dangerous company of a lunatic, thieving warlock with deadly hands of magic!

  He hefted his gunnysack up to aright its bulk upon his back. “Thief or vigilante. Take your pick, darling.”

  Unable to help herself, she snorted. “Vigilante? How so?”

  “Ah, how is it that I neglected to tell you…?”

  The cryptic tone had her twisting about to look up into the shadows of his face. “Tell me what, bandit?”

  “That you ride with the infamous outlaw.” He tipped his hat in gentlemanly fashion, and she caught the mocking wink as one eye glittered for the briefest moment in the moonlight.

  “And who, pray tell, might that be?” she scoffed.

  “Why, Robin Hood, of course.”

  Chapter Three

  What was he to do with her now? Falcon asked himself as he looked down into her horror-stricken face. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, had only been concerned with her protection, with saving her from the deadly demise those men had been plotting. He’d been a bloody fool to react without thinking ahead.

  It suddenly struck him as quite peculiar how his tazir abilities had only been used strictly on his enemies until now. He’d never once had to force any woman into submission. Each and every one of them over the centuries—even feisty Maid Marion, rest her soul—had believed in his sincerity and obeyed him when he demanded his lover act in order to preserve her safety and life. Oh yes, it left his braies in a wad just having to admit that Lady Salena didn’t trust him. Nor did she believe that he acted in her best interest.

  But then again, he’d never before had to abduct a woman from her chambers in the middle of the night. Still, it touched a chord of ire within him that she’d attempted to escape him. They’d been nothing more than mere court acquaintances until this night, true, but did she really think him such an ogre that he’d snatch her from behind the strong walls of her keep just to have his way with her?

  He ground his teeth together, wincing as the motion of the horse caused her softness to abrade over his painful erection. But God help him, seeing her abandon and desire as he held her within his embrace had proven to be worth having to deal with her cynical mistrust of him. It was odd, but at the very same time her distrust rankled him, just knowing she despised him outside of the circle of his arms sent him to a whole new level of erotic pleasure he’d not seen before now! It meant his seductive skills as a man were more irresistible to a lady—most importantly, to this lady—than he’d even fathomed before now.

  “Robin Hood?” Her voice came out on a high-pitched note of revulsion.

  With a strange disappointment, he saw the flash of fear and hate in her eyes. But then, that was a common reaction to knowing one was in his infamous company against their will.

  “Aye, Robin Hood. Outlaw, thief, supposed murderer.” He removed his hat and swirled it, bowing his head sardonically as he held her before him on the horse. “At your humble service.”

  “You will rot in hell, you brigand! You will be thrown in prison for stealing from my noble and law-abiding family—who happens to be under the protection of the king. And you will most definitely hang for abducting a lady of the court!”

  Falcon plopped his hat back onto his head. The rain began to spatter down upon them. It suddenly fell in a downpour of icy, fat droplets. She shivered and curled closer into his cloak, despite her obvious aversion to him. Apparently, the lady was no idiot. She’d use and abuse him to her own end, just like all spoiled princesses of her kind. Ah, but she felt warm and womanly against him! And she fit into the curve of his lap as if she’d been made by the heavens specifically for him. Her floral scent rose to tickle his senses, the unique aroma now wetted and stirred anew. He must get her to shelter, get her dry and warm…and he must get himself some sexual relief very soon.

  “Ah, well, we shall see. But first things first, milady.” And he dug his heels in, spurring the horse onward toward the inn he knew to be just around the next bend.

  And toward a certain buxom innkeeper to warm his bones and give him just what he required. That much-needed sexual release.

  Lightning flickered in the distance and he heard the rumble of thunder move in. “Warrior, giddy-up!” The stallion burst into action, racing against the wind and rain. Familiar with the destination, he galloped through the intensifying storm, tossing up clods of mud in his wake.

  “Hold tight. You shall be snug and dry shortly,” he said to her above the clatter of thunder. She stiffened when lightning crashed, striking a nearby tree. The crack of wood followed, along with the whoosh of its falling weight and the acrid scent of smoking wood. But Falcon was a skilled horseman. He maneuvered the steed on, dashing to the side to avoid the falling trunk. It crashed to the forest floor just out of reach of Warrior’s hind end.

  “Let’s go!” The horse obeyed with a nei
gh, bolting and making an immediate sharp turn off the path.

  The inn appeared to be busy this eve, Falcon noted as he passed by the front and rounded one side of the square, two-story, wooden structure. Soft, orange lighting glowed warm and welcoming through the frilly curtains abovestairs. Below, the saloon bustled with the activities of free-flowing spirits and rowdy fun. The sounds of laughter and drunken disagreements drifted out to mingle intermittently with the violent storm. But the inn’s apparent abundance of patrons would not stop him from acquiring shelter, this he knew. The innkeeper Molly Pierce never failed to accommodate his every need.

  He guided his mount to the stables and let out a low, two-note whistle. Within seconds, a young lad emerged from the dark interior of the structure.

  “Mister…Falcon? Is that you?” The boy struggled to keep his voice down, even as the storm seemed to swallow his every word.

  Falcon urged Warrior toward the lad. “Aye, Lance. Let Miss Molly know that I am here and in need of shelter for the remainder of the night. And discreetly, as usual, you hear?”

  He nodded vigorously. “Who’s that you got there, sir?”

  “Ah, be gone with you! ‘Tis none of your bloody business.” He couldn’t help but add a chuckle. “Now, remember as always, I’ve a pretty coin for you if you do as you’re told and keep all your eyes and ears to yourself. And this time, it’s a gold one.”

  Lance leapt up and down in the pouring rain, reminding Falcon of a baby buck pawing to bolt. He barely suppressed a squeal. “Truly, Falcon? Do you truly mean it? A gold coin?”

  “Aye, and one for your hard-working mother, as well, lad. You go and use the coins wisely with your sweet ma in mind. But first, you must do as I ask you…”

  “Right, right! I’m going.” He tore out toward the rear entrance to the tavern but suddenly stopped and whirled around. “Falcon?”

  “Yes, Lance.”

  “Thank you. You are a good man, not bad like they say you are.”

  Falcon nodded. “Go, lad. Go and fetch your mistress.”