He smoothed the coverlet on the bed and looked at her. “You have had your vengeance for the goat and for the insults Charlotte has dealt you since your arrival, so let this be the end of it,” he said. “I did not bring you to St. Austell so that you could start your own personal war within these walls. I brought you here as a symbol of peace, something for my men to look up to and understand. After your display tonight, I am not sure how they are going to perceive you. They will either make more of an attempt to kill you, or they will leave you alone now that they know you are willing to fight back. Only time will tell what your actions have brought about.”
He couldn’t have hurt her worse if he had slapped her. Ryan looked at him with disbelief, her anger cooling into heady disappointment. Unable to look him in the eye, she turned her back on him and plopped down on the bed.
“So I am alone in my vengeance,” she muttered, weak and despondent now that the anger had worn off. “You do not support my actions. You fear I have made matters worse.”
“I did not say that,” he said softly, gruffly. “If you must know the truth, I applaud the fact that you have taken a stand against my sister. She is a bully and will continue bullying until she either grows weary of the game or is beaten into submission. If there is any side to take, I will side with you. I will always side with you.”
Ryan simply shook her head. “You must side with me because I am your wife,” she said. “Right or wrong, you must side with me because if you do not, you will look like a fool.”
“Untrue,” he said quietly. “If I truly believed you were in the wrong, I would send you back to Launceston and void the treaty myself. You will always have my support and affection, Ryan. How much more obvious can I make it?”
She turned to look at him, seeing warmth in his eyes. She went from despair and sadness to hope and joy in a fraction of an instant. This man who had come to Launceston to claim her, who had always been fair if not stubborn in the beginning, who was now her husband and had shown her a glimpse of married life that she could hardly imagine.
He was handsome, wise, calm, and sensitive. This jewel of a man was doing battle against every man and woman at St. Austell because he wanted peace so badly that he was willing to sacrifice everything for it. The last person he needed to do battle against was the woman he’d wagered his very reputation on.
Ryan stood up from the bed and went to him. She didn’t even say a word; she simply lifted her arms to his neck and he responded fiercely.
“Forgive me if I shamed you,” she whispered. “Your sister… something in me snapped and all I could feel was fury and sorrow. She takes such delight in tormenting me. I could not let her continue unanswered, but I am sorry if I shamed you.”
He held her tightly, feeling her supple body against him. He was without his armor, unusual for the usually well-protected knight, but he taken her into town without it and in the subsequent search for her, he had never put it back on. He was glad; holding her against him as he was, he was able to feel every curve against his body and it occurred to him that he had a wife, but had yet to consummate his marriage. He intended to remedy the situation.
“There is nothing to forgive,” he murmured, his hands beginning to caress her gently. “I told you that I do not blame you. Charlotte got what she deserved.”
“Mayhap,” Ryan whispered, feeling his hands as the gently massaged her back, her arms, and feeling a great tingling rising within her body. “But I suspect you will have to hide me from her from now on.”
He grinned, feeling his arousal as he rubbed his body against hers. “Nay, Lady d’Vant, I will not hide you,” he muttered. “If she comes near you with anything other than peace on her mind, I will kill her.”
“You would kill your sister?”
“If she threatens you, I will have little choice.”
Ryan pulled back to look at him, shocked by his declaration. It spoke volumes of what was building between them, the trust and peace and affection. Gazing into his eyes, she could also add lust to that list. Although she was a maiden and had truly yet to even be kissed by a man in the romantic sense, she knew she wanted Dennis to kiss her. She wanted so much more.
“Then I thank you,” she whispered.
He simply smiled, his mouth slanting over her lips, tasting his wife for the first time. She was hesitant; he could feel her body tense slightly, uncertain, but quickly she relaxed and gave in to his tender kisses. Soon, she was responding to them, mimicking his actions. He would suckle her lower lip and she would suckle his in return. He licked her lips and she would lick at his, her silky-soft tongue stroking him into madness. Delighted, he picked her up and deposited her on the new red coverlet that had come all the way from Persia.
Ryan simply lay back and let Dennis do what he wanted to do. Her entire body was on fire, making her gasp every time he touched her. His hands were warm and gentle, and he carefully removed her from her surcoat. All the while, he kept up with the tender kisses, feeding her naïve lust because she truly had no idea how to sate this fire he was creating. When his mouth finally descended on a tender nipple, the fire burned brighter than ever.
Flat on her back, Ryan gasped as Dennis suckled her, his hands roaming her supple body. She was embarrassed at first, for no one save Lyla had ever seen her without her clothes on, but that embarrassment quickly faded. Dennis was her husband and this was his right. She knew she would have to submit to him eventually but she never truly imagined she would enjoy it as she was. Eventually, she relaxed and closed her eyes, savoring every new sensation with the greatest of thrill.
Dennis had never tasted anything so sweet in his life. He’d lost his virginity when he was quite young to the daughter of a soldier who had served at Northwood Castle. He’d been madly in love with the girl for a year or so, meeting her in the stables for frequent clandestine rendezvous, until her father caught wind of what was going on and threatened to kill him. He offered for the young woman’s hand but had been summarily rejected, and it was something that had pained him for quite some time. But now, with Ryan in his arms, he couldn’t even remember that distant love. It couldn’t compare to the feel of Ryan against his tongue or the softness of her body against his. At this moment, she was the only thing that had ever existed in his world. She was his past, his present, and his future.
He tried to take his time with her but it was difficult. The feel and smell of her inflamed him. Her breasts were sweet and luscious and he nursed hungrily at them for a while before his mouth began to move down her torso, and his hands moved from her waist to her buttocks. He felt her tense once again, but it didn’t stop him; he squeezed and caressed her buttocks, his fingers probing into intimate places. He could smell her sweet feminine musk and it drove him mad with passion; the kisses moved from her torso to her pelvis and before he realized it, he was licking the dark curls between her legs.
Startled, Ryan grabbed his hair to try to move him away from her most intimate core, but Dennis was immovable. He wedged himself in between her legs, licking and suckling her mercilessly. Ryan’s embarrassment quickly faded when she realized how pleasurable it was. She ended up flat on her back again, her back arching against the mattress in ecstasy as Dennis’ tongue did wicked and wonderful things. His fingers soon joined his tongue and he began to probe her, feeling her excited body contract around his fingers as inserted them into intimate places.
The sensations were new and wonderful and overwhelming, so much so that Ryan hardly realized when he removed his fingers and replaced them with his heated manhood. In fact, he thrust into her two or three times before she realized he had mounted her. Her legs were spread apart but the moment he joined his body with hers, she wound her legs around his buttocks, instinctively, and pulled him deep. Because he had taken his time with her, there was no pain in their coupling, simply new and highly profound sensations. She wanted more.
Dennis had awakened a lion. Ryan clung to him, rubbing her pelvis against his when she realized that doing so
brought on great pleasure. Her hands were on his head, his face, moving down his back to his buttocks. Kisses were hot and heavy as the sounds of lovemaking filled the stale air of the chamber. The moment Dennis felt Ryan’s hands on his buttocks was the moment he spilled himself deep into her body. Ryan, feeling Dennis’ throbbing, was thrown over the edge into her own delicious climax.
The gasping and grunting died down as they lay there together, intertwined with each other, basking in the glory of a relationship that by all rights should have never existed. Dennis held on to Ryan tightly, kissing her amber head, thinking that now she surely had every part of him. Any feelings he thought he might feel for her had been magnified a thousand fold. She belonged to him, body and soul, and he to her. Kings could rise and fall, as could St. Austell and Launceston, but still they would belong to each other. Nothing could destroy that.
Now, they were one.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One week later
It was pouring rain, soaking the sloping sides of Launceston’s motte until it was nothing but soft, slippery mud, like a pudding that had yet to set properly. The green grass that usually grew up the sides of it was now buried beneath the muck.
Richard was standing just inside the entry to the great keep, looking at a figure who was standing on the top step of the enormous flight of stairs that led up to the top of the motte. The figure wouldn’t come any closer and Richard wouldn’t veer out of the safety of the keep. He had six archers trained on the man because he knew him to be sly and dangerous. He did not believe, however, that the man was stupid. Still, it was best to be safe.
“I am told you are the man they call the Devil of the Sea,” Richard said, standing beneath a great oiled canopy held aloft by drenched servants because the lord must remain dry. “Is this true?”
The rather short and muscular man clad in leather breeches and a heavy leather vest gazed steadily at the earl. His clothing was very expensive and the sword that hung at his side wasn’t the usual heavy broadsword; it was thinner, longer, and sharper. He had a big gold earring in his left ear and a shiny, bald head, complete with a long, dark mustache over his full lips. His eyes were dark and deadly.
“I am he,” he said in a thick Spanish accent. “You are Earl Cornwall?”
“I am.” Richard peered more closely at the man. “What shall I call you?”
“Miguel will suffice.”
Richard nodded, almost dismissively. “As you wish,” he said. “Am I to understand you have received my missive?”
“I have,” Miguel replied with a hint of disinterest. “Your messenger reached me at my dock in Padstow. I was just preparing to weigh anchor when your missive arrived. You were fortunate to reach me when you did. How did you know where to find me?”
Richard shook his head. “I did not; not really. You are rumored to seek port in three or four places along the Cornwall coast in the winter. I simply sent messengers to all of those known locations and hoped for the best.”
Miguel studied him a moment. “How do I know this is not una trampa,” he said in his heavy tongue. “A trap?”
Richard indicated the stairs, the open bailey and gates below, and the fact that Miguel’s men were heavily armed while the earl’s men were deliberately unarmed except for the knights.
“How can this be a trap?” he asked. “Your men are armed while mine are not. The gates are open and you may leave any time you wish. However, I must say that for a suspected trap, you came rather quickly.”
Miguel cocked his head, studying the man in the fine silks. “The only reason I have come is because you mentioned lands of my own. Otherwise, I would have thrown your missive in the sea.”
Richard could see what he was dealing with: a man with gold coins where his heart should be. There could be more to it, but he didn’t think so. He would treat the man the way his reputation dictated: as a mercenary and as a killer. He was frankly surprised he had come at all, but now he understood why. The man wanted property, which the earl could supply for a price.
“I understand,” Richard said after a moment. “Shall we go inside where it is dry to discuss my proposition?”
The rain pounded and the thunder rolled as Miguel shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “We will discuss it now.”
The earl was dry. Miguel was not. It made no real difference to him if they discussed his proposition in the elements.
“Very well,” Richard said, glancing at Thomas, who stood several feet away with water dripping off his chin. The man’s expression was like stone. “I am sure you are aware of hostilities between Launceston and St. Austell. They have been going on for years.”
Miguel nodded impatiently. “You waste my time.”
Richard held up his hands. “I am explaining the reasons for my proposition to you, so you must be patient,” he said. “My troops laid siege to St. Austell a few weeks ago and heavily damaged the castle. Rodrick d’Vant was killed in the battle. St. Austell is greatly weakened in its current state.”
“Go on.”
Richard stepped towards him and his servants followed, holding the oiled cloth over their lord. “Dennis d’Vant, Rodrick’s son, is now Lord of St. Austell,” he said quietly but with deadly meaning. “He has proposed peace between St. Austell and Launceston and I honored that treaty by giving him a bride of my choosing. It was a ruse, however. While Dennis d’Vant is a young and rather foolish knight, he repairs his fortress knowing that Launceston will not attack him again now that we are at peace. However, St. Austell is in such a weakened state that it must be attacked again and brought down once and for all. This is why I need your assistance.”
“I am listening.”
Richard’s jaw ticked as he spoke, indicative of his level of conviction. “I would have you and your ships lay siege to the port of St. Austell and the castle,” he said. “You will attack without mercy and bring down the fortress that is already half-broken. It should not be much of a test for a man of your skills. Once the fortress is breached, I will station Launceston men there and confiscate it as a garrison. You and I will share the port profits, and by all accounts we will become very rich men.”
Miguel was digesting the man’s proposal. “What becomes of d’Vant?”
“You will kill him before I ever take possession of the fortress. Make sure he dies in battle, but if not in battle then at least by your sword. Kill him.”
Miguel’s dark eyes regarded the earl carefully. He was expecting more of a proposal than that. “You promised me property,” he said. “If not St. Austell, then what?”
“I have property in Wales,” the earl replied. “I am prepared to gift it to you.”
“What property?”
“Usk Castle, north of Newport by a few miles. It is off the coast. Perhaps you would like that? It will come with four hundred men, sheep, and honey production.”
Miguel was interested; with everything he had, and he had quite a bit, land property was not counted among his assets. He’d spent fifteen years marauding the coasts of Cornwall, Devon, Dorset, Somerset and southern Wales. He knew the coastline intimately, and everyone knew of Miguel el Mar Diablo and his vessel, El Carro de Diablo, or the Devil’s Chariot. He had three other vessels that sailed with him, mighty cogs that were built for battle and conquest – the Charon, the Styx, and the Cerberus. When Miguel and his demons sailed, no man was safe. But the one thing that had always eluded him was property. Aye, he was very interested.
“Tell me more,” he said, then pointing to the keep. “I will come in now and drink your fine wine as you explain to me in detail what I must do.”
Richard smiled thinly. “Usk is only part of the reward,” he said. “You shall also have d’Vant’s wife, a woman of royal connections.”
Miguel shrugged. “I do not have much use for a woman.”
Richard cocked an eyebrow. “You will have use for this woman. Beauty such as you have never witnessed.”
“Is this so?”
“It is. But
mistreat her in any way and I will not only confiscate your lands, I will burn your ships down and you with it. You shall feel my wrath wholly and completely. Do you understand?”
Miguel grinned; he rather liked a threat. “You frighten me,” he said, although he didn’t mean a word of it. “Well? Take me inside. Do you always leave your guests standing in the cold?”
Richard smirked as he indicated for him to follow. Thomas watched the group head into the warm innards of Launceston’s keep, feeling sadness and despair as the cold rain pounded and dripped from his chin. He hated the way his daughter was being used as a pawn, swept up in Richard’s schemes. He only wished he was strong enough to stop it. He couldn’t turn to anyone for help; he was sworn to Richard and could not undermine him. To do so would be to sacrifice his life, as well as his daughter’s life. As he stood there and pondered his bleak and dismal future, Douglas came up beside him.
“Shall I close the gates?” he asked.
Thomas glanced over his shoulder at the bailey below and saw what looked like a small lake with all of the rainfall. There was a collection of sea-worn pirates down there, at home in the wet, standing around as if in some odd face-off with Launceston men. Everyone was standing around eying each other, waiting for the first man to flinch.
“With Miguel’s men inside or outside the walls?” he asked wryly.
Douglas’ blue-eyed gaze moved over scene below. “I shall give them the choice,” he said, responding to the humor. “I am uncomfortable with the gates open.”
“Expecting an onslaught from St. Austell?”
Douglas looked at him; he was young and aggressive and, like many at Launceston, still coming to terms with the peace treaty. “That would suit me well enough.”
Thomas shook his head. “No more,” he muttered. “With Ryan within their house, there is nothing more we can do.”
“Then why is Miguel here?”
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume II Page 137
