Amelia
by Christine Morgan
The crescent
moon had long since fled from the sky over the Forbidden Forest. The pinwheel
of stars, Ariel's Jewel Box, gleamed against the black velvet backdrop
of the night. An autumn wind stirred the treetops and set the fallen leaves
to dancing.
Within a sacred grove
sat two figures, surrounded by all manner of forest creatures. Here, in
this magical place, roles of predator and prey were forgotten. Asian, god
of nature, kept the peace. The chill breeze did not penetrate the ring
of trees; indeed, the grove was comfortably warm.
Not that Belden was
thinking about the external temperature. The elves knight, glowing with
the silvery radiance of one of Ariel's blessed, had other things on his
mind. He looked at the woman sewed near him, thoughts awhirl. From the
tangled chaos came one clear thought: She is beautiful .
She was. The god of
the forests was kind to this daughter of his. Reddish-gold hair, tawny
as a lion's mane and silky as an ermine's tail, spilled loose around her
bare shoulders. Her eyes, as she gazed shyly a him from beneath long eyelashes,
were green, as deep and full of secrets as the forest itself. Her gown
was the color of new leaves, airy silk billowing from an off-the-shoulder
neckline of gold embroidered with leafy vines. The neckline was low enough
to offer a tempting show of the upper swells of her bosom, and the material
caressed her body like a lover. She wore no jewelry save a fine gold chain
supporting a gold pendant in the form of a lion's head.
Belden drew a deep breath.
He had seen Amelia dozens of times, perhaps hundreds, but he had never
truly seen her until now. And never before had she been offering the gift
she now did. He reached out and brushed a stray curl from her cheek, then
tenderly gathered her into his arms. She melted against him and sought
his lips in a kiss, one slim hand twining in his dark hair.
Aslan spoke to
me, she had said, after he had rescued her from the cold hands of death.
He has told me what I must do, and it is not something I can do alone.
I would ask a favor of you, Belden. He says I must bear a son. Her
blush as she uttered those words had affected him in a way he never thought
possible. Even now, the memory caused him to tighten his embrace, crushing
her against his chest as he drank the sweetness of her lips. Her scent
was evergreen, spiced cider, rainfall.
One of his hands slipped
upward from her waist to cup a firm breast. She sighed against his mouth
and caught his wrist, pressing his hand closer. He bent his head, nuzzling
her ear and kissing her arched throw. She breathed his name, and he fought
to restrain himself from taking her that instant.
He drew back, stunned
by the intensity of his desire. Amelia stood, graceful as a doe, and unfastened
her gown. Green silk whispered to the ground.
Belden caught his
breath a the sight of her unadorned beauty. He rose to his feet, silently
praying to Ariel for guidance. Oh, Silver Lady, let this be right.
Amelia moved to him
and helped him unbuckle his chainmail. He quickly shed the rest of his
clothes, and again took her in his arms. She raised her head for a kiss,
and her long hair brushed against the arm around her waist. His free hand
caressed her side from breast to hip. Her lips parted beneath the gentle
pressure of his. Their tongues touched lightly, withdrew, touched again,
as if fencing. He broke the kiss and looked down at her. She met his gaze,
trust and longing visible in her eyes. Her hand touched his cheek, traced
the line of his jaw.
"Run free with the
night, my wolf," she whispered. "This night, the forest is ours."
Belden lowered her
to the cool grass and knelt beside her. He stroked her skin, marveling
a its softness. Amelia trembled at his touch. She pulled his head down
and kissed his lips; kissed the side of his neck and nipped gently. He
caught the side of her face in his hand and kissed her with an almost savage
passion. Her arms wrapped willingly around his neck. He dropped his head
to her breasts and began kissing them, teasing the rosy nipples with his
tongue and suckling a them until Amelia was gasping in need.
He poised himself
over her, strong arms supporting himself. His rigid manhood brushed against
the satin smoothness of her thigh, probed urgently a the flower of her
womanhood. He closed his eyes and called up an image of Jaenyth in his
mind, tousled chestnut curls, brown eyes, lithe warrior's body.
No, he said to himself.
This is not Jaenyth. Jaenyth has no part in this. This is Amelia.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her, her hair spread out in a fan
against the grass. For a moment, he wondered if she saw Geoffrey in her
mind, but one glance in her deep green eyes told him differently. He thrust
smoothly forward and was enfolded in her warmth.
Amelia arched her
back, murmuring his name as her hands clutched his shoulders. He wrapped
his arms around her, capturing her lips in a kiss as he slowly rocked his
hips. She moved beneath him in perfect rhythm, stroking his back and buttocks.
His long hair fell forward and mingled with hers. He was only beginning
to quicken the pace of their coupling when she cried out in pleasure, tightening
her legs around him as she shook in release.
Belden paused, allowing
her a moment to recover while he struggled for control. Her eyes were shut,
and tears of joy and wonder glimmered at the corners. He kissed them away,
then slowly began to move within her again.
So soon? he
thought, amazed. How long has it been for her, out here alone? Oh, Geoffrey,
my fine Glantri lord, you were a fool to let this one go!
He rained kisses on
her face and her neck, moving faster until she was breathless with passion.
Twice more she shuddered in exquisite response before he was unable to
hold back any longer. He pressed hoedown against the grass, caning her
name and spilling his seed into her silken depths. Stars flared behind
his eyes at the power of his release.
In the distance, they
heard the howl of a wolf.
Copyright 1992 by Christine Morgan