Embroidered Fantasies

Chapter Two

The razor-sharp edge of the blade slashed downward, slicing straight toward his head. At the last possible second, Radnor Craddock brought up his sword and blocked the deadly blow. The two blades skated against each other, the metallic shriek firing his blood. He would not be defeated.

Muscles bunched in his shoulders and forearms. His biceps bulged. Dust kicked up from the dry ground beneath his boots. The sound of heavy breathing and low grunts filled his ears as he slowly pushed his opponent back. They were equally matched in all ways but one—sheer willpower. Radnor was the more determined of the two. He would never give up. Never stop fighting.

Giving a battle cry, he thrust forward, throwing all his weight behind the move. His opponent stumbled, almost losing his footing. Radnor attacked. Mercilessly, he pounded the other man, driving him back, looking for an opening, some weakness in his defense.

But his opponent wasn’t defeated. Not by a long shot. He renewed his effort, swinging his heavy sword with the ease of long practice. The two men fought as the sun rose higher in the sky.

Sweat rolled down Radnor’s forehead and stung his eyes. He blinked to clear his vision, but didn’t dare try to swipe it away. To do so would give his opponent the opening he was waiting for, watching for. He could see the gleam in the other man’s eyes and knew it matched his own. They’d both been born to fight.

“Enough.” His opponent suddenly stepped back and lowered his blade. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Radnor slowly let his blade fall back to his side. “That’s your problem, Sednar, you’re always worried about your stomach.” He sheathed his sword and reached his arm outward. His older brother grasped it readily. They clasped, hands around biceps, shoulders bumping before they released their grip.

Sednar’s face was flushed from exertion but he smiled and patted his flat stomach.

“What can I say? I don’t want to pine away to nothing.” Radnor snorted. At six-foot-four, of solid muscle, there was little chance of that happening to his brother. Sednar threw his arm around Radnor’s shoulders and the two of them left the training field and headed for the keep.

Craddock Keep wasn’t as large as many castles in the area, but it was strong and well fortified. The tower was built out of thick gray stones and it rose like a beacon in the sky. It was his home and he loved it. And unlike six years ago when his older brothers were still alive, it was in good repair.

Radnor rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if memories of those bleak times would ever truly fade. If there had ever been a more brutal man born than his eldest brother Leon, Radnor had never met him. Vicious and cruel, Leon had ruled with an iron fist, warring with surrounding families and stealing whatever he wanted.

Once there had been six Craddock brothers. Now the only ones left were he and Sednar. Bren and Lednar had been killed in a raid, trying to steal a woman. Leon and then Hamid had been slain on the field of combat, after displaying a true lack of honor.

All four of them had met their end at the hands of the Bakra brothers. Once considered the mortal enemies of the Craddocks, they were now related to the Bakra family by his sister’s marriage. The world was indeed a strange place.

Radnor couldn’t say he was sorry that his older brothers were dead. His early years had been hell. As the youngest boy, he’d borne the brunt of much of their brutal ways.

He’d learned not to trust anyone or anything. An act of kindness was usually a trap that led to disappointment at best, to a brutal beating at worst.

He still found it strange that he and Sednar had formed such a deep bond of friendship and brotherhood over the past six years. With their older brothers out of the picture, it had fallen to them to bring the castle and the land surrounding it back from the brink of poverty and destruction. In doing so, they’d learned they were more alike than they’d realized.

“What ails you, brother?” Sednar’s arm dropped away and he paused at the bottom of the stone staircase that led to the entrance of the keep.

“Memories,” he replied, knowing his brother would understand.

Dark shadows crossed Sednar’s face and he nodded. “Some days are worse than others.”

That was true. Days went by when Radnor gave no thought to his dead brothers. It was ironic that the two youngest boys were now the lords of the keep.

“Come. Get cleaned up and have something to eat. You’ll feel better.” Radnor snorted. “You think food is the answer to every ill.” The corners of Sednar’s mouth tipped upward into a half grin. “Maybe not the answer, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.” After many lean years, they both appreciated a full belly.

The two of them walked up the stairs side by side. The massive door opened just as they reached it and Johhan, their steward, greeted them. “Good morning, my lords.” He gave them both a short bow before turning his attention to Sednar. “I need a moment of your time if you can spare it. There is a minor structural change the builder would like to make to the training area behind the new stable.”

“Give me time to get cleaned up and I’ll be right down.” Sednar turned to Radnor.

“You want in on this?”

That was another change in how things were now. Leon would never have asked for any of their opinions. In fact, he’d beat any of them if they dared question his decisions, his authority, taking it as an affront to his leadership.

As the eldest brother, it was Sednar’s right to do whatever he chose, but from the moment they began to rebuild their home and their lives, the two of them had functioned as a team.

He gave his brother a nod. “I won’t be long.” His long legs ate up the stairs as he climbed to his room. Now that there were only two of them, they each had their own room, complete with private bath. It was a luxury he appreciated, especially on days like today.

Radnor entered his personal domain and unbuckled his sword, setting it carefully on the trunk at the end of his bed. His muscles flexed as he rubbed his left biceps. He’d pushed himself too hard today, trying to beat back the demons of the past.

Sighing, he pushed the dark thoughts away. The past was what it was. No amount of thinking or wishing could change it. The here and now was good. That was what mattered.

A servant had left water, which was still warm, in the bathing chamber. Radnor poured some into a basin and dunked his head forward, rinsing off the worst of the sweat and grime before grabbing a washcloth and running it over his arms and chest.

He immediately felt better.

He grabbed a drying cloth and was rubbing it over his torso when he suddenly paused. The back of his neck tingled and he spun around, dropping the towel and reaching for the knife in his boot, while cursing the fact that he’d left his sword in the other room. That wasn’t like him. He usually took his sword everywhere. Years under his brothers’ rule taught him never to be unarmed. They’d often attacked with no provocation, simply for the sport of trying to hurt him. He was getting careless and lazy.

But he was alone. He cocked his head to one side and listened intently. There it was again. It sounded like a woman crying. His gut tightened. He hated the sound of a woman’s tears, had heard it often as a child. His mother’s life had been a hard one and so had his baby sister’s.

It had eaten at him that he couldn’t do anything to help them. He’d learned as a child that any show of kindness on his part made things worse for them. Radnor had learned to ignore the women in his life and deflect his brothers’ attention onto himself.

It was painful at times, but he counted it well worth it if it saved either of them a beating.

His brothers had been an abomination. In Javara, women were scarce and, as such, were treated as the treasures they were. Because there were more males than females, it had long ago been decreed that two brothers would share a woman, but only one of them could marry her and claim her children. The other brother would get one night a week in her bed and would be there to take care of her if her husband died. No more than three brothers to a woman. That meant that the Craddock brothers might have had three brides between them all, two at the very least. They’d had none. No family would give their precious daughters into the brutal hands of their family. Radnor didn’t blame them.

They’d treated their sister with blatant disregard. Radnor was glad that Genita had found happiness in the arms of the two younger Bakra brothers. They were good to her, treating her with the honor and respect she deserved.

He prowled to the bedroom, knife in hand, and looked around. He was alone. The sound came again, a low sob that tugged at his heart. “Where are you?” he called. He turned in a circle, unable to locate where the sound was coming from. “Don’t be afraid.” Even as he said the words, he knew she might not believe them. There were many, even those who lived and worked at the keep, who still didn’t quite trust him or his brother, even after six long years.

Sometimes Radnor thought they were right not to. The violence of his childhood had left deep emotional scars inside him. Thankfully, Sednar didn’t seem to be quite as damaged by their upbringing. His brother had always been more affable, avoiding the worst of their older brothers’ scorn and anger, deflecting it with humor. As a result, Sednar was a good leader, firm but fair in all his dealings.

Radnor hadn’t been quite as lucky. He’d borne the brunt of his older brothers’

brutality. Been beaten down time after time. But he always got up again, unable to keep his tongue when he felt strongly about something. He’d always feared he was more like them than he wanted to admit. He could sense the smoldering cauldron of rage bubbling deep in his soul.

He trusted Sednar more than he’d ever trusted another soul, but there was still a part of him that was waiting for his brother to turn on him, to betray him. It left him feeling tainted, unworthy of the trust his brother gave him.

There was a soft sigh and a light breeze caressed his cheek. Then the air in the room stilled and he knew he was alone. The short hairs on the back of his neck rose. “There’s nothing there,” he told himself. He grabbed up his sword and strapped it on. He pulled a brown leather vest from out of the trunk at the end of the bed and tugged it on. His leather pants and boots were dusty, but acceptable. His brother and the steward were waiting.

Roxanne was exhausted by the time she arrived home later that evening. It had only been a partial shift, but the diner had been extremely busy. The rain had cleared off and the nice weather had brought people out to eat.

Coupled with her early excursion to the flea market and her shocking news about Michael, it was no wonder she was dog-tired. Her limbs quivered with fatigue as she stripped off her uniform and dumped it into the hamper. She had to do laundry tomorrow. She’d planned on doing it this evening before she’d agreed to the extra shift at work.

Tomorrow, she promised herself, as she padded to the bathroom. She looked longingly at the tub, but knew she would probably fall asleep within minutes if she tried to take a bath. She was that tired. Instead, she opted for a quick shower. Five minutes later, she was clean and dressed in a pair of yellow cotton pants sprinkled with orange and green flowers and a matching tank top.

Yawning, she turned off the bathroom light. She double-checked the five locks on her front door, making certain each one was secured. She was uneasy even though she knew it was too soon for Michael to have found her. Still, she took the phone and set it on the coffee table next to the davenport.

She made quick work of opening up her bed and spreading out the bedclothes. It was only then she remembered her earlier finds of the day. Her feet made no sound on the tiled floor as she walked to the kitchen chair. The tapestry looked incredible now that the accumulated layers of grime and dirt were gone. She picked it up, pleased to find it was dry.

Forcing herself to be brave, she turned off the kitchen light, leaving on the lamp next to her bed. She couldn’t afford to leave all her lights burning, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to turn them all out. Not yet.

She scooted beneath the covers and laid the tapestry out beside her. The castle was still imposing, even though it seemed more functional than grand. It looked solid and secure. She liked that. The forest seemed alive with animals and birds, surrounded by the forbidding mountains not too far in the distance.

But it was the two men that pulled at her, drew her gaze time and time again. Both had long, dark brown hair. She couldn’t quite tell how long it was, but it looked to go to their waists. One of the men had a pair of thin braids framing his face. The other man’s hair fluttered in the breeze.

She wished she could see their features better. They both looked hard and tough.

Their shoulders were broad, their chests wide. She smiled and wondered about the person who’d created the tapestry. She’d bet it was a woman. The men were obviously fantasies. No men looked that good.

Not that she’d want anything to do with men like that. A shiver skated down her spine. She’d had more than enough of her share of tough, strong men. Michael had proven to her that men like that often used their strength to get what they wanted. She couldn’t imagine being at the mercy of two such men.

Now where the heck had that thought come from? “You’re tired.” She scrubbed her eyes. They felt gritty and heavy. “You’ll never have to worry about dealing with two men, or even one. Not if you don’t want to. You’re in charge.” That had been her mantra for the past year. She was in charge of her own life now. And nothing and nobody was going to change that.

She settled onto her side and sighed. Her fingers traced the patterns of the tapestry.

She knew she needed to switch off the lamp before she fell asleep. She couldn’t afford to waste electricity. She barely made enough to cover her bills as it was. Two minutes, she promised herself as she snuggled into her pillow.

Two minutes.

~

A noise startled her, jolting her into a seated position. The room was pitch black.

She couldn’t see a hand in front of her face. But that was impossible. The streetlamp just outside her kitchen window usually gave her more than enough light to see by at night.

Plus, she’d left a light on. Her heart pounded and sweat popped out all over her body as she listened.

There it was again. A slight brush of fabric that sounded like it was coming from just inside her front door. She scrambled off the davenport, shoving aside the sheet and light blanket. The beat of her heart pounded in her ears, blocking out all other sound.

She held her breath, trying to hear where the intruder was. She had five locks on the door. Why hadn’t she heard someone trying to break in?

“Who’s there?” She’d meant for her voice to be strong. Instead, it had come out as a pitiful whisper.

A low chuckle reached her ears and froze the blood in her veins. “You didn’t really think you could get away from me that easily, did you, Roxy?” Only Michael called her Roxy and she hated it.

How had he found her so quickly? How had he gotten into her apartment? She couldn’t see him or hear him now. Didn’t know where he was. He was playing with her like a cat taunts a mouse before striking.

Her hand fumbled for the phone, but in the dark she couldn’t find it. Her heart skipped a beat when the side of her hand struck it and sent it crashing. She fell to her knees, hands out, frantically patting the floor in search of the phone, her lifeline to help and the outside world.

“You wouldn’t call the cops, now would you, Roxy? I just spent a year in prison because of you and I don’t plan to repeat the experience.” His voice was calm and matter-of-fact. It chilled her soul. He was going to kill her. But god only knew what he’d do to her first.

“You’d better leave.” She needed to get to the kitchen. There were knives in one of the drawers. If nothing else, she could defend herself.

Standing slowly, she inched her way to the kitchen, still not able to see a thing. Not that it mattered. The room was small and she knew the layout. The tile floor was cold against the soles of her feet as she moved quickly and quietly. Only two more steps and she’d be in the kitchen.

She hit a solid wall and bounced back. Strong hands shot out and caught her, pulling her forward.

“No!” she screamed, raising her hands to beat at his chest.

“Shh,” a male voice crooned. “There is no need to be afraid. You are safe.”

Several things registered at once in her muddled brain. The chest she was beating was warm and hard and very naked. It also wasn’t Michael. She glanced over her shoulder, unable to see her apartment in the shrouded darkness. “He’s going to kill me,” she whispered.

At once the man’s demeanor changed. He thrust her behind him and a metallic whoosh filled the air. The stranger walked backward, forcing her to move. She didn’t know where he expected her to go with the kitchen counter only a few steps behind her.

Except the counter wasn’t there. She kept waiting to hit it, but the expanse behind her seemed to open up into nothingness.

Her stomach churned and her knees went weak. She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth to keep from screaming. Terror filled her. A flicker of light off to her right caught her attention. She turned toward it, needing to get her bearings. Around her the room began to take shape.

She blinked, not quite believing what she was seeing. A fire crackled in a large stone hearth, illuminating gray stone walls. The texture of the floor beneath her feet changed. It was no longer tile, but harder and cooler. She suspected the floor was much like the walls.

The stranger walked into her line of sight and she caught her breath. He was very, very tall. Even bigger than Michael. His shoulders were as wide as a doorway and his biceps were huge. Heavy bands of bronze wrapped around his upper arms and wrists.

They flashed in the firelight as he sheathed his sword in the scabbard at his side.

“You are safe.” His low voice reached deep inside her, comforting her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. She almost believed him.

He unbuckled his sword belt and set it on top of a wooden table just off to the right.

His feet were bare and he was wearing a pair of snug leather pants. He looked incredible.

She raised her eyes to see the face of the man who had saved her. Before she could get a good look at him, a rustling sound came from behind her. She whirled around and came face-to-face with a huge four-poster bed. There were no curtains to soften the austere lines of the bed. It was huge. And there was a man, a naked man, rising from its depths.

“What have you brought us, Brother?”

When he spoke, she took an involuntary step back toward the man standing next to her. She didn’t know him, but she trusted him not to hurt her.

“I heard a woman cry out and found her wandering in the hall.” The hall? That wasn’t right. “No, I was home.” A thought occurred to her. “Where am I?”

She peered around the room, studying the man beside her and the one propped up on one arm, staring at her from the depths of the gigantic bed. It was all so familiar even though she knew she’d never been here before.

The tapestry.

Relief hit her and her knees went weak. She swayed and was quickly lifted into a pair of strong arms and carried to the bed. She’d be screaming her head off if she hadn’t suddenly realized she was dreaming.

The nightmare about her husband finding her had been brought on by the phone call from Stacy. That was only normal. Instead of the nightmare coming to its terrifying conclusion, it had morphed into a dream about the two men from the tapestry. She’d earlier wished for someone to save her from her ex-husband. Who better than two fantasy men?

She sighed and caught the scent of hot male, mixed with leather and something else. Something earthy and clean. She liked it.

Her back hit the mattress and she stared up at her dream hero. His jaw was square, his features strong. She wished she could see him better, but there simply wasn’t enough light. His eyes were dark and intense. No golden boy like her ex. If she’d met this man in a dark alleyway, she’d have been terrified of him. But this was just a dream and here he represented safety.

“Thank you for saving me.” She didn’t know why she was thanking him. It was a dream, after all. But for some reason it seemed important.

He grunted and before she could blink, he’d shucked his pants and climbed onto the bed beside her. She caught a glimpse of rock-hard thighs and a huge erection.

Roxanne swallowed hard. She wasn’t ready for this, not even in her dreams. The shifting of bedcovers behind her reminded her that there was another man in the bed.

He snuggled closer and she felt his arousal, long and thick, press against her hip.

She scrambled to the top of the bed, pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. It was a protective posture. A defensive move. With them surrounding her, there was nowhere else for her to go. “Please.” She thrust out a hand in front of her, as if that would stop them.

The scowl deepened on the stranger’s face.

“That’s what we want to do, my sweet.” She glanced at the man’s brother. They had to be brothers. The resemblance was too close for them to be otherwise. Plus, in the way of dreams, she just knew it was his brother. He offered her a soft smile. “Let us pleasure you.” His large hand settled on her thigh. Her breath caught in her throat.

“We don’t want to take from you.” Her hero cupped her face in his hands. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips across hers. The caress was featherlight, so soft she barely felt it.

Arousal zinged through her, awakening parts of her body she’d feared would never be alive again. Her breasts ached and she felt a heavy pulse low in her belly. Cream slid from her core, dampening the crotch of her pajama pants. She licked her lips. His eyes darkened as he watched her. “I don’t understand.”

The brother shifted his hand, sliding it beneath the hem of her shirt until it rested just below her left breast. Her heart raced. “Let us touch your breasts, lick your skin, taste the sweetness from between your spread thighs.” A shiver rushed down her spine, but this time it wasn’t from fear. She was aroused.

Totally and completely aroused. And why not? This was a dream. Her dream. She was safe here. She was in charge.

Her dark warrior brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. Her tongue darted out to taste it. His skin was salty and hot. A low rumble came from deep in his chest. Staring up at him, she nodded.

Pure male satisfaction covered his rugged face. Not hesitating, he caught the waistband of her pants and pulled, whipping them away. His brother did the same with her top. In seconds, she was naked.

A sense of vulnerability swept over her. It was just a dream, but she couldn’t stop herself from curling her legs upward to shield her body from them.

“No.” Her hero was having none of it. He knelt on the bed in front of her and wrapped his hands around her ankles. His grip was gentle, but firm. Slowly, inexorably, he eased her legs away from her body, tugging them open as he did so.

With his large body between her legs, she couldn’t close them. The position left her open and exposed.

He leaned down and inhaled deep. “You smell hot and sweet, like a woman should.” His tongue snaked out, licking up one side of her damp folds and down the other. “Your cunt is juicy and ripe.”

His crude words startled her, but his gentle touch held her captive. The expression on his face was one of wonder.

The brother wasn’t about to be forgotten. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. They were both being so gentle it brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back. She wanted to enjoy this dream, this fantasy of being protected, cared for and wanted by two exceptional specimens of manhood. She’d have enough reality to deal with in the morning when she awakened.

He kissed the curve of her jaw and down her neck, licking her collarbone. Her breath caught in her throat as he continued lower, lapping at one of her swollen nipples. A low moan broke from her throat, startling her.

Her tormentor gave a low laugh and latched onto her breast with his mouth, sucking strongly.

Between her thighs, her dark warrior touched her with his tongue, slicking over her engorged folds. He found the nub at the apex of her thighs and flicked it. Her hips arched upward of their own accord. He blew softly on her heated flesh. She reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair, urging him closer.

“Is this what you want?” His breath was warm against the lips of her pussy.

“Yes,” she whispered. And it was. She wanted to feel like a woman again, a whole woman, one who could find pleasure in the intimacy of sex, even if it was only in a dream.

Her warrior lowered his head again and caught her clit carefully between his lips and sucked. His brother cupped one breast with his hand, molding the firm flesh and caressing her nipple as he continued to tease the other with his tongue and mouth.

Roxanne floated in a haze of sensual pleasure, her body alive with sensations, each one more intense than the last. Her breath was coming faster with each passing second.

Her skin was slick with perspiration, each nerve ending pulsing, reaching for the explosive culmination at the finish line.

Between her legs, her fantasy warrior touched her, rimming the opening to her channel with his finger before slowly sinking inside. The sensitive inner tissues were swollen and tight. He worked in and out until her body accepted his invasion, softening around his thick, long finger. She wondered what it would feel like to have his hard cock buried in her depths. He would fill her to overflowing.

Then there was no time to think of anything but the pleasure suffusing her. Her warrior began to thrust his finger in and out of her core, quickly adding a second one.

Roxanne arched toward him, wanting more even as her inner muscles pulsed and tightened around him.

His brother lapped at her nipples, switching from one to the other, drawing her deep into his mouth, using his tongue to best advantage.

Pressure built low in her body. She was so close to coming. The fingers pumping in and out of her channel moved faster. He sucked her clit between his lips, drawing hard just as his brother did the same at her breast.

Roxanne screamed as every muscle in her body tightened and released. A flash of heat pulsed through her pussy, bathing her fantasy man’s fingers with her essence. She shook and trembled, her body not her own as her orgasm overtook her.

When she came back to her senses, one brother lay with his head on her breast, lapping lazily at a distended nipple. The other sprawled between her legs, stroking her gently. Her fingers were still tangled in his long hair and she tried to free them without disturbing him. He raised his head from between her thighs and stared at her. His eyes glittered with undisguised lust.

She shivered, not with fear, but with a longing that surprised her. She’d just orgasmed but she wanted more. She wanted her dark warrior. And his brother. What would have shocked and appalled her in her normal life seemed normal in her dream.

Her warrior shifted onto his knees between her spread thighs. His cock jutted out in front of him, enormous and proud. The head was damp and she could see the veins pulsing down the thick shaft. Yet he made no move to impale himself in her.

She wanted to touch him, to feel all that power throbbing against her hands.

Roxanne reached out, but he seemed to be getting farther away rather than closer. She frowned as a noise buzzed in her ears, distracting her. Her warrior lunged toward her, his face fading before her very eyes. She tried to catch his outstretched hand, but met nothing but air.

~

Roxanne sat straight up in bed, a cry of dismay echoing through her small apartment. The alarm of her clock radio blared out at her from the shelf on the bookcase and she scowled at it as she rolled out of bed to shut it off.

She froze and stared down at herself. She was totally naked. Her pants and top were tangled in the sheets next to the tapestry. The light still glowed from her lamp, barely visible with the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window.

“That was some dream.” She raked her fingers through her damp hair and took a deep, calming breath. And that’s all it was.

She grabbed up her clothing and tugged it on before flicking off her alarm. Her body ached and throbbed, reminding her of just how real her dream had been. She’d actually orgasmed in her sleep. Incredible.

Determined to put the dream and the fantasy warrior and his brother out of her mind, she tossed the tapestry onto the back of the living room chair. Getting into her daily routine, she folded her blankets and pulled the davenport back into a sofa, stowing the bedclothes in the storage area beneath it.

That done, she headed to the bathroom. She needed a shower to wash away the effects of the night. It was morning. Time to face reality. There were no warriors to help protect her.

As always, she was on her own.