Heart of the Hunter Read online

  "I trust you and your brother have been taken care of."

  Startled by Braedon's presence in the passageway, Ariana drew up short. Water sloshed over the sides of the pitcher she carried, wetting the front of her gown. "Oh," she exclaimed, brushing at the thin stain that traveled down her bodice. "Yes, Kenrick has been looked after quite well, and I..." She glanced down at her gown in dismay. "I was just bringing some water so I could wash..."

  Braedon grunted in acknowledgment as he leaned his shoulder against the corridor wall. Ariana could scarcely look at him without feeling awkwardly self-conscious, weathering a burning heat that suffused her face as he stared at her from no more than ten paces away. He unnerved her as always, worse now, for he knew her more intimately than anyone. He knew her body, and her heart. She had willingly given him both, but in his current dark mood, she wasn't sure he wanted either.

  "I must have taken a wrong turn," she said, eager to fill the silence and explain why she was standing there, fidgeting under his unsettling gray gaze. "I'm sure I can find my way back--"

  When she tried to walk past him, Braedon took a step forward, directly into her path. She thought he might reach out to her, but his arms remained crossed over his chest. Like her, he had also shed his mantle in the warmth of the caverns. He stood there in his brown tunic and leather gambeson, his charcoal colored hose still damp from their travel that day, the soles of his large black boots encrusted with mud and forest loam. He looked tired, but now that she was looking closer, Ariana saw that there was something heavier in his features than mere fatigue.

  "It has been a strange day. Are you all right?" she asked, noting the tension in the hard line of his mouth. As uncomfortable as he made her now, she could not help wondering how he fared amid this unexpected reunion with the woman who abandoned him as a boy. "Have you thought about what she said--about what we should do?"

  "I don't want to talk about her, or this...place," he said in his gruff, dismissive way. He moved closer, his hands dropping down to his sides as he walked toward her. "That's not why I came looking for you."

  A jolt of surprise went through her. "You...you were looking for me?"

  He did not answer, but Ariana cursed the little thrill that raced into her veins at the mere thought of him having deliberately sought her out. She did not want to imagine--or hope--he meant anything by it, but by now she knew the moods of his gaze well, and she knew enough to recognize the heat that burned in his eyes, tempered yet smoldering, as he closed in on her in the corridor. In the beginning, when her life first became entangled with his, she had shrunk away from that heat; then, before long, it drew her like a powerful, beckoning flame. How long ago it all seemed to her now. Now she was trapped somewhere between the two impulses: drawn yet fearful; wanting yet uncertain.

  "I-I was just getting some water," she stammered, wincing inwardly to hear her repeat herself in her present state of discomfiture. "They gave me a chamber somewhere...back there, I think..." She gestured in the vague direction of the passageway behind him.

  "I know where your chamber is, Ariana."

  Of course he did. Braedon was never lost, not to his surroundings or to his emotions. He was always, aggravatingly, in control in every situation.

  With a glance that caressed even when his hands would not, he said, "Come with me."

  Together they walked back up the passageway. Flames from the intermittently placed torches wobbled in the disturbance of the air, sending thin snakes of smoke slithering up toward the arced stone of the corridor ceiling above their heads. For some long while, too long by half, the only sounds were the sloshing of the water in Ariana's pitcher and the soft scuff of their boots on the dirt floor of the passageway as they walked. They passed the mouth of one corridor, then another--the one Ariana felt certain she had trod down herself on her way back from the well--before they reached an intersection of three others. Braedon turned down the farthermost left passageway without a word.

  "Are you taking me back to my quarters?" she asked hesitantly as she followed after him. "Because I believe we already passed..."

  He kept walking, obviously knowing his own path without her needing to tell him. Her advice trailed off, useless, as he led her deeper into the heart of the caverns, to where the humidity grew heavier, almost steamy, the air becoming increasingly warm and rich with the scent of moist clean earth and fresh rain. The sound of trickling water echoed off the rounded walls and along the serpentine corridor, emanating from a source she knew not where. It became clear to her but a moment later, when Braedon strode around a bend in the passageway and paused, waiting for her to follow. She drew up beside him at the entrance to a large chamber and gasped in wonder at what she saw.

  Like a cavern within the cavern, the ceiling of the domed chamber arced high into the rock, but here the room seemed less an awe-inspiring creation of man than it did a phenomenon of nature. Spires of slick white stone hung down like icicles of graduating sizes, some thick as a man's arm, others no bigger in circumference than a distaff rod or walking cane. They glistened, moist from the humidity and gilded by the light from six torches housed in black iron cressets that were bolted into the rock wall several feet below.

  Ariana peered down into the strange chamber, down to the base of a descending staircase carved into the stone in a spiraling curve to lessen its steepness. There at the bottom of the steps was a small pool of clear, steaming water. The surface of the pool bubbled as though boiling, the soft rumble of churning water echoing in a soothing, steady hum.

  "It's magnificent," she whispered, then turned her awestruck gaze on Braedon. "What is it?"

  "There is a warm water spring that runs through these caverns and on, all the way up to the woods outside."

  "Yes, I know," Ariana whispered. "The healer who tended Kenrick told me about it. And I saw the heat rising off the little brook when we first rode up to the caverns' entrance."

  Braedon swept his hand toward the pool below. "This is where it starts. The spring is hot, but I'm told it is most comfortable for bathing. I expect you'll enjoy it very much."

  Ariana pivoted her head to stare at him, incredulous. "Bathing--in there? You can't be serious." She stepped away, backing toward safer ground near the corridor outside. "As dearly as I would love a true bath, I prefer to take mine in a tub. A nice, shallow tub made of wood, not a hole bored into the earth heaven knows how far, and filled with scalding water, bubbling up from heaven only knows where."

  Braedon grunted dismissively. He unbuckled his baldric, then set the belt and sheathed sword against the wall near the chamber entryway. "The water is not scalding, nor is it that deep. And if you look, you'll see there's a natural ledge formed in the wall of the pool, just over there." The corner of his mouth quirked into a wry grin. "A perfect seat for a...well, a perfect seat. Go on, try it."

  Ariana gave him a dubious look, fighting the smile that his roguish flattery provoked. "Perhaps you should sample the bath first, my lord, and if you do not boil up like a stewed capon, I might consider partaking of it myself."

  He made a sound of dismay in the back of his throat. "Where is your sense of adventure, Lady Mayhem?" The challenge was issued with a mocking scowl as he reached out to take the pitcher of water from her. Their fingers brushed, a bare whisper of contact, yet Ariana felt his touch sear her skin like a flame. All humor vanished from Braedon's gaze as he looked at her, his hands neither retreating nor advancing where they rested atop hers.

  A question lingered in his serious gray eyes. Something he seemed reluctant to say, holding something back. He struggled with it, she thought, noting the white line of tension that rimmed his mouth. "What is it, Braedon? Is anything wrong?"

  "No," he said, his voice lightly casual as he denied it, yet not entirely convincing to the woman who had come to know him as she knew her own heart. He removed the pitcher from her grasp and bent to set it down on the floor of the chamber, then took her hand in his. His fingers were warm and firm as he curled them ar
ound hers and gently coaxed her forward. "Come. Let us enjoy a few moments of privacy while we have it."

  She had no will to refuse him, despite the prickling of her instincts that told her he was concealing something from her, or her uncertainty of the hot spring bath that waited at the bottom of the stone staircase. Braedon led her down the curving flight of stairs, carefully guiding her along the sloped decline, which followed the natural circumference of the domed chamber. Down and around they descended, into the gauzy cloud of steam that wafted over the clear reservoir of water and spilled onto the smooth expanse of stone that rimmed the pool's edge.

  "What if someone comes in?" Ariana asked when they alighted from the last stair. "How do you know we'll have privacy?"

  "I left my sword near the door as a sign to any who would approach. No one will enter, I assure you. The pool is all yours for as long as you like."

  Mother Mary, but it did look inviting. Crystal clear water glistened beneath feathery steam, bubbling up softly from somewhere deep within the pale rock bowl. She could not tell how deep the pool would go, but at the bottom was a silted floor of sparkling white sand. And there, at the perimeter, as Braedon had pointed out, was a ledge hewn into the side of the rock, forming a flat slab on which to sit partially submerged in the water. Ariana went to the edge of the pool and dipped her hand beneath the surface. It was warm--quite nearly hot--but soothingly so. She turned back to Braedon with a small smile.

  "Very well, you win," she told him in jest. "I'm going in."

  She shucked her boots and hose, discarding both in a small pile at her feet. Ariana had lost much of her shyness around Braedon, knowing there was little he did not already know about her body. But as she loosened the ties on her gown's bodice, she suddenly realized how still Braedon had gone beside her. He watched her work to speedily undress, his gaze hooded but smoldering. She was still in her gown and chemise, but she felt naked already, stripped nude by the heat of his glance alone. Her pulse picked up a faster beat as he stared at her, standing still as granite, stonily silent.

  He desired her, she realized with a jolt of excitement. He desired her, but he was holding himself back, deliberately maintaining his distance. Ariana knew not what to make of him. Part of her knew that he had feelings for her--how she wanted to think so--yet he seemed intent to keep her at bay. In truth it seemed the more intimate they became, the more distant he held himself emotionally. Ariana ached to feel his arms around her. She saw him retreating into his personal darkness, and she wanted more than anything to help him out of it. She loved him, even if he was determined to bar her from his heart.

  Feeling sad for the hauntedness that seemed to forever follow him, she offered, "Join me in the pool, Braedon."

  He shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise."

  "Not wise?" she asked, trying to cajole a smile from him now that he seemed so sober. "Ah, dear. Where, prithee, is your sense of adventure, my daring lord? At least help me out of this gown, now that you have enticed me with the notion of a hot bath."

  Facing him, she raised her arms and waited for his assistance. He obliged with a grumble issued low under his breath, gathering up the long skirts and lifting the garment over her head. He handed it to her in a large, rumpled ball, his gaze straying to the swell of her bosom at the neckline of her thin white chemise. Ariana could have walked away. Indeed, his expression seemed all but to command that she keep a wary distance, but she cared too much to turn her back on the look of loneliness that shadowed his eyes.

  "Join me," she entreated him again, catching his hand and bringing the hardened knuckles to her lips. She kissed him tenderly, her gaze on his, inviting him to be with her. "Braedon..."

  He tightened his fingers around her hand and pulled her to him. With an exhaled curse, he bent his head and claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss. Ariana let her gown drop to the ground and wrapped her arms around him, welcoming his embrace, needing to feel his lips on hers. She had never dreamed she would play the seductress, but Braedon brought out all that was woman in her. That part of her that knew the man in him, knew also that he was falling away from her somehow.

  "Ariana," he whispered against her mouth. "I...God's blood, but I didn't come here to seduce you. I didn't want--"

  He broke off with an oath, pressing his forehead to hers. His hand was on her breast, toying with the tight bud of her nipple through the chemise, kneading the soft mound of flesh that ached so desperately for his touch. With more brazenness than she thought she possessed, Ariana stepped back and drew off her undergarment, casting it aside to stand naked before him. His exhaled breath seemed to catch in the back of his throat.

  Ariana held out her hand to him. "Join me, Braedon."

  Her body still thrumming and trembling from even his brief attentions, she took a gingerly step down onto the flat, submerged ledge of the pool. Warm water engulfed her to just above her calves, its silky heat like a balm to her tired limbs. Letting go of Braedon's hand, she ventured farther within and situated herself on the natural formed seat. She had not been prepared for the sheer pleasure she felt as she sank to her breasts in the pool. Like a living blanket of heat, charged with thousands of tiny churning bubbles, the water surrounded her, cocooned her in a liquid embrace that was nothing short of heaven. Ariana reclined deeper into the warmth, letting her legs dangle over the edge of the stone precipice and into the pulsing heart of the pool. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, unable to suppress the moan of blissful satisfaction that slipped between her lips.

  Braedon shed his clothing and stepped in beside her. He did not seat himself on the ledge next to her, but instead hoisted himself fully into the water. It was not that deep, after all. Standing, the pool reached only to the center of Braedon's chest. He submerged himself, then came up again, sluicing water from his face and slicking back his dark hair. "You are a wicked wench, Ariana of Clairmont," he growled as he drifted back to her at the pool's edge. With a grin, he wedged himself between her knees. "You are a wicked, wanton wench, my lady, and I am a fool to think I can resist you."

  "Then don't."

  Ariana's amused laugh changed to a startled squeak as he seized her by the ankles and pulled her off the ledge, into his arms. She clung to him, feeling weightless as he carried her farther into the steamy pool. They kissed sweetly, mouths meshing, melding. She felt the firm ridge of his arousal pressing between them where it nestled so provocatively at the apex of her thighs. The mat of crisp hair at his chest tickled her breasts. Braedon kissed his way down her throat and Ariana leaned back in his arms, granting him further access, crying out wordlessly as he suckled her nipples each in turn.

  Before she knew it, he was bringing her back to the ledge seat, lifting her onto it. He kissed his way down her abdomen and lower, pressing the flats of his palms beneath her back to arch her up out of the water. He held her thus as his head dipped ever lower. She grasped for him as he bent to suck at her woman's core. He teased her mercilessly, then plundered her with a dizzying expertise that left her quaking, gasping, her back arched tautly against the edge of the pool.

  His fingers clutched her hips, lifting her out of the water and holding her fast as he ravished her with his tongue, kissing and suckling, driving her to the very brink of rapturous madness. He moaned against her tingling flesh as he laved her, his mouth searching out and finding the pearl of her womanhood. He sucked it hard, pressing the tip of his tongue against the swollen nub as he drew it into his mouth in a deep, carnal kiss. She cried out, helpless in her pleasure, her hands grasping at his shoulders, twining in the wet silk of his hair. His tempo rose to match the hungered thrust of her hips. He buried his face between her thighs, demanding her release with the questing heat of his mouth. Ariana shattered with a strangled gasp of ecstasy.

  She was still climaxing, still boneless with cresting pleasure, as he drew himself up out of the water beside her to lavish her body with kisses and soft words of praise. Ariana reached for him, bringing his face up t
o hers. Panting and breathless, she caressed his strong jaw and the cheek that bore his silvered scar. She kissed him with all the passion that still flowed through her veins, needing more of him. Needing as much as he would give her. Glancing down the length of his warrior's body, she drank in the magnificent sight of him, following the planes and striations of his muscular perfection with her hands. His sex was thick and straining at his groin, proudly risen past his navel, a thing of power and wondrous beauty. Reverently she stroked the steely velvet shaft and glistening head, palming the blunt tip of him and savoring his pleasured groan as she drew her fingers tightly around his width.

  He gave her no warning, save the darkening of his changeable gray eyes, before he seized her by the wrist and turned her around on the ledge. Facing away from him on her knees, Ariana bent to the gentle command of his body as he moved in close against her back and pressed her down. His hand reached out above her head to snag the rumpled form of her gown. He slid it beneath her breasts like a cushion and eased her down over the edge of the pool.

  His mouth was warm and hungry at her neck, nuzzling away the mass of her unbound hair as his lips traced a line of heat along the arched column of her neck to the sensitive skin at her nape. She felt the pinch of his teeth on her shoulder and she gasped, her arousal stoked brighter with the sudden shock of pleasure-pain. He covered her body with his, holding her against him with one arm snaked around her waist, the other braced beside her head on the edge of the pool as he nudged her legs wide with his knee and mounted her. The stiffness of his erection slid wetly between them, heavy and hot, pressing, insistent. Then, with a curse and a slow, seemingly endless thrust, he sheathed himself in the fist of her womb.

  "Ohh, yes..." Ariana gasped, marveling at this new assault of carnal sensation. Eyes wide but bleary with pleasure, she could only clutch the stone ledge of the pool and hang on as Braedon moved within her, filling and withdrawing, thrusting and retreating, loving her in a manner that was primal and animal, and unspeakably arousing. His deep, urgent strokes penetrated her to her very core, a claiming so possessive, so needful, she was want to weep with the exquisite joy of it.