by Shay Savage
I traced the strong muscles of his arms and shoulders before trailing my fingertips over his chest. I felt his skin quiver slightly as I brushed over his nipples, and I wondered how it felt to him when I touched them. Feeling strangely bold for so early in the morning, I lifted myself off the bed just enough to place a kiss over one of them.
“Alexandra!” Branford sucked in a sharp breath, and I looked up to find his darkened stare. As I kept my gaze on his to further watch his expression, I reached out with my tongue and ran it over the small, flat nub. He closed his eyes and tightened his fingers against my sides. Branford moaned out loud as his hand reached for my hair and entwined the strands in his fingers. I kissed his nipple again and smiled to myself before wrapping both of my arms around his shoulders as he pressed his hips against mine, continuing his steady rhythm. Our lips met, and the taste of his tongue filled my mouth. He slid his hand between us, finding the spot above where we were joined and attending to it until I screamed out for him.
As my body dropped against the mattress, I felt his gentle but urgent touch all over my skin—from my breasts, to my shoulders and arms, back down to my sides, and over my thighs. His hand slipped around my hip and gripped my behind, pulling my hips to his as he brought forth his pleasure with a series of quick thrusts into my body. I felt his seed pour into me as he groaned loudly.
“Oh…Alexandra…my wife…” His head dropped to my shoulder, where he licked and sucked at my skin. It made me smile, for it was something he had done almost every time he had taken me. I had come to anticipate the feeling of his lips and tongue on my neck and the rough scratch of his jaw as it brushed across my skin.
Branford rose up on his elbows and he held my face in his hands, kissing my lips, my chin, and my jaw up to my ear. He moved down to suck at the skin of my neck again before rising up and looking into my face. His full smile bore down on me, and I felt heat rise to my face.
“And what reason accounts for this early display?” he asked quietly, causing my blush to deepen. He stroked my cheekbone with his thumb and tilted his head to one side, raising his eyebrows as he awaited my answer.
“We did not…you did not…last night…” My words were a garbled mess, and Branford’s smile widened.
“It was late, and we both needed our sleep.” He traced from my temple to my ear, pushing my hair away from my neck. “Did I disappoint you by not taking you in the evening?”
“No, you did not disappoint,” I answered, “but I did miss it.”
He stilled and looked down on me a moment before rolling to his side. I rolled with him, and he stroked the side of my face.
“I would not have expected such brazenness from you, Alexandra.” His eyes smiled at me. “It was quite enjoyable.”
I blushed again, naturally, and tucked my head against his shoulder so he would not see my embarrassment.
“I was not sure if I should…if I should do such a thing,” I told him. “I was not sure if you would approve.”
“I most certainly approve, my beautiful wife.” He cupped the side of my face and held me against his skin as he kissed the top of my head. “I approve most wholeheartedly. Anytime you wish.”
Again I was unable to help but smile as he held me close to him and continued to place soft kisses against my forehead. I turned my head to kiss his jaw, not at all minding the feeling of his rough cheek on my sensitive lips. The sun was beginning to come through the window crack, and I was disappointed to realize there would not be enough time to shave him.
Then I remembered why.
“What is wrong?” Branford asked, sensing my distress.
“I am afraid you will be hurt,” I said. Branford huffed through his nose.
“I shall be fine.”
“But you could be injured. With no judge, you could even be…be…”
I could not bring myself to say the word.
“You do not have to worry about such things,” Branford told me. “If something were to happen to me, you would not lose your station. You would still be treated as my wife. You would not ever have to leave the castle. You would still sleep in the same bed, in the same rooms.”
I looked up at him, my eyes wide with shock. Is this what he thought my concern to be?
“But you would not be there,” I whispered to him as tears filled my eyes “I cannot imagine trying to sleep in that bed without you there with me.”
As soon as I said it, I realized how true it really was. Though I had spent most of my life sleeping in a communal room with many other servants, the idea of returning to that life was not abhorrent to me. I might have even preferred it. But to sleep in our marital bed without my husband there by my side?
Branford’s thumb brushed over a tear as it trailed down my cheek.
“Please, Alexandra,” he said softly, “do not cry. Tonight you and I will be back in our rooms, together, and I will stay by your side throughout the night, holding you close to me and keeping you safe.”
I nodded and sniffed.
“You do not have to…have to prove anything to me!” Tears burst forth, and I sobbed against his chest as he held me tightly. He ran his hand over my hair—stroking with his long fingers from the top of my head down to my waist. His soft kisses against my cheek eventually calmed me, and when my tears stopped, he turned me to look at him. After taking a long breath, I repeated my sentiment. “You do not have anything to prove.”
“Yes, Alexandra, I do.” Branford took my face in his hands and peered at me intently. “I have to prove to you that I am worthy of a woman with such a kind heart that she would risk anything to help a girl she does not know just because she knows it is the right thing to do. If I can be worthy of that woman—if I can be worthy of you—then perhaps someday I can be worthy of the crown.”
*****
Ida and I stood off to the side as Parnell assisted Branford with the light chain mail he was going to wear for the fight. He told me it allowed more maneuverability with close combat, but that information did not allow my worry to dissipate. He looked so much more vulnerable than he did in the plate armor he wore for jousting. There was nothing but leather protecting most of his body, and I was quite sure a sword could cut right through it.
My nerves did not calm as Michael led Vanquish over to an area beside the arena and handed the reins to Sir Rylan, who would hold the wagers until the contest was complete. Janet stood beside the horse, looking very much like the commodity she was—confused and unsure as to what was happening. Sir Leland’s page had already completed suiting up the other knight and was now off to the side as Sir Leland began swinging his sword in practice.
“Come along, Sir Branford!” he called out. “Quit stalling and prepare to be defeated again!”
He laughed as Branford ignored his taunts. Sir Parnell finished with the last touches of Branford’s battle attire and took a step back. He spoke low into Branford’s ear, and I saw my husband nod in return and take possession of his sword. They were ready to begin.
Ida gripped my hand as Branford stepped into the arena.
Branford’s face was completely expressionless as he walked with purpose toward the center of the arena. His gaze was trained on Sir Leland as he made an arc in the sand. I could see the muscles of his arms flex through the tightly linked chains of his mail shirt and the strain of the tendons in his neck as he stretched it from one side to the other.
Sir Leland walked in from the other side with a wide grin on his face. He swung his sword from side to side in broad, menacing strokes. I felt Ida’s fingers tighten around mine. She had not been nervous during the tournament games, and her reaction to the confrontation was actually making it more difficult for me. It confirmed the situation was as I expected and far more dangerous than Branford had divulged.
They approached each other slowly with swords drawn but Branford’s not yet risen. Sir Leland continued to hurl laughter and insults at Branford, who remained silent. Eventually, Sir Leland must have grown tired of his taunt
s, and without warning, he lunged at Branford.
My husband’s blade neatly blocked the attack, and Sir Leland danced backwards.
“Is that all?” Branford asked bluntly.
Sir Leland came at him again, all taunting forgotten as the sound of their swords striking hard rang through the morning air. I barely had time to draw a breath before they had gone from standing nearly still to an incredible frenzy of metal and flesh against the backdrop of the sandy battle arena.
Sir Leland swung low, and Branford pulled his sword across his body to block it before countering with a quick swipe toward Sir Leland’s head. Branford neatly dodged his opponent’s blade as he turned to the side, and they struck swords with a mighty clang. Again and again, their swords thrust together, pulled apart, parried, and thrust again. There seemed to be no end to it.
As my own panic regarding Branford’s safety heightened, Sir Leland stepped forward, swinging low as Branford jumped over his opponent’s blade and countered with a swing to his head. He missed but came right back again, swinging, dancing easily to the side to avoid another blow and then swinging again. It was then I heard the sharp clang of metal on metal and then the sudden intake of breath as Sir Leland’s foot hit Branford in the stomach, and he went flying backwards, landing a few feet away in the sand. He kept his sword in his hand, and when Sir Leland moved to stab toward Branford’s side, Branford blocked it neatly with the flat edge of his blade. He rolled to his side, righted himself, and lunged at Sir Leland, knocking him off his feet and spinning him to the ground.
From where I stood off to the side, I could see Sir Leland’s hand as he ran it through the sand and filled his palm with the grains. I immediately knew his intent though there was no time to either do or say anything. He took his handful of sand and threw it into Branford’s face as he turned back around. Branford dropped, his hand over his eyes, rubbing at them as he tried to blink and see his opponent while Sir Leland stalked to one side of him. Branford held his sword out in Sir Leland’s direction, still obviously unable to see but listening to the footsteps in the sand.
A small noise escaped from my throat, and Ida’s free hand reached over and grabbed mine. She held both of my hands tightly. I couldn’t look at her—my eyes would not leave Branford. His hand still covered his eyes, swiping at them with near desperate movements to remove the grit as he swung out blindly in Sir Leland’s direction. He could not find his mark.
With a kick into Branford’s face, Sir Leland was suddenly on top of him, and his boot stepped down hard on Branford’s wrist, pinning his sword to the ground. The strain in Branford’s voice was apparent as he tried to free himself and failed.
I heard Sir Leland’s dark laugh—the same one I had heard inside the stables—as he stood over Branford with his sword pointed at Branford’s throat. I pulled my hand from Ida’s grip and took several steps toward the arena before I felt Parnell grab my arm.
“Release me,” I said, though there was little command in my voice.
“Not this time, Lady Alexandra,” he said softly.
I knew he was right though it did not make me want any less to go to my husband. I looked quickly to Parnell. His eyes had moved back to the fight, his worry apparent on his face. I tried to swallow, but my throat was unwilling. I looked back to Branford where he lay on the ground with Sir Leland’s sword so dangerously close to his flesh.
“Maybe you are not quite the man you think you are,” I heard Sir Leland yell out. “Maybe I will have to show your lovely new wife what a man is really—”
Everything occurred so quickly and all at once, it was hard to determine exactly what happened first. I heard what could only be described as a roar coming out of Branford’s mouth. Sir Leland’s malicious grin dropped quickly from his face, and blood began to drip to the ground.
“Dear God,” Parnell muttered under his breath.
Sir Leland’s wide eyes looked at the blade of his sword, which was firmly grasped in Branford’s left hand. Branford twisted it sideways as blood poured over his wrist and arm. He pulled it toward himself and off to one side, dragging Sir Leland off balance as he fell toward Branford’s supine body. Branford’s feet rose up and kicked at Sir Leland’s middle, and the knight toppled to the ground with an audible thud. A moment later, with his bloodied hand still holding the wrong end of his opponent’s sword, Branford was on top of him. Sir Leland tried to grab the hilt of the sword, but Branford grasped the sword in both of his hands as he held the blade across Sir Leland’s throat. Sir Leland could only grip Branford’s wrists to stop the blade from entering his neck.
“Surrender!” I heard Branford yell down at him. “Surrender of your own will now, or I will kill you where you lie.”
Both men were completely still, the only movement from their bodies, the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed heavily. Sir Leland stared up at Branford for a long moment before he released his grip on Branford’s wrists and dropped his head back into the sandy ground.
“I surrender to you, Sir Branford.”
Branford pushed back from the defeated knight and stood up tall, his shoulders rising and falling with his exertion. I watched his left hand as the fingers slowly uncurled from the blade of the sword before Branford tossed it far to the side. He kicked once at the dirt near Sir Leland’s face, tossing dust into the air around his eyes, and then walked backwards a few paces to retrieve his own sword from the ground. He sheathed it as he turned and walked out of the arena.
With his head tilted forward as he trudged away from a battered Sir Leland, I felt as unsure about what to do as I had on our wedding night. Branford’s eyes looked glazed as he stared at the ground, and blood from the gash across his hand continued to fall in drops to the dirt below. Michael approached hesitantly with a strip of cloth, which Branford snatched away from the page and then wrapped it loosely around the wound. He used the back of his other hand to wipe the blood off the cut on his lip.
I desperately wished to throw my arms around him, but I was not sure if that was the proper course of action, and there was no time to ask Ida for advice before he was near us again, telling Michael to get Vanquish back to the stables and prepare both him and Romero for the journey home. Our eyes met only briefly before he looked away again.
Unable to stop myself, I reached out and brushed my fingers over his mail-clad arm. He looked down at my hand and then back up to my eyes.
“Branford…” I did not know what to say and instead reached to his face and touched his battered lip with my fingertips. He did not flinch but pressed his lips lightly to my fingers.
He seemed about to speak when footsteps came from behind him, and we both turned to look. I tensed as Sir Leland approach but noticed his shoulders were slumped somewhat. His sword was sheathed, and his look was one of chagrin. As he walked past Sir Rylan, he grabbed at Janet and dragged her behind him.
“Here,” Sir Leland said, his free hand still rubbing at his own bloodied face. He took Janet by the shoulders and shoved her in Branford’s direction. “She is all yours.”
“Master?” Janet looked at him, then back to Branford.
“Not anymore,” Sir Leland grumbled.
The girl looked back and forth a few times, confusion clouding her expression. Sir Leland had obviously told her nothing about the possible outcome of the competition. She slowly moved over toward Branford and dropped down to her knees.
“Am I yours now?” she asked quietly.
“Hrmph.” Branford grumbled. He did not look down at her but watched Sir Leland and his entourage as they gathered up their belongings and left the arena. Branford took a long, slow breath and then looked down to the girl at his feet. “I have no need for slaves.”
He turned and walked away from her.
“Master?” she called after him.
“I am not your master,” Branford said, snapping at the girl. “You are free to do as you will.”
“Free?”
“Yes, free,” he said again. “I
have acquired you and done with you as I will, and that was to set you free. You may…”—he waved his hand around in the air—“do as you wish.”
Branford walked over toward Vanquish and Michael, and Janet’s gaze met mine.
“What do I do?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Where do I go?”
My mouth opened and closed soundlessly, for I had no words to give her. I shook my head slowly and watched her look over to Sir Leland’s retreating form with longing. I wondered if she would truly consider returning to that horrid man if she had no other options.
Janet walked slowly away from us as I wondered what the answers to her questions would be. Where she would go, and what she would do, indeed? My thoughts all along had been to save her from her abusive master, but what would life bring her next? What would even stop Sir Leland or another equally vile man from taking her again?
After Branford’s wounds were attended to and pronounced to be not as bad as they appeared, Branford gathered up his belongings and began walking back to the castle. It would soon be time to return to Silverhelm, and he seemed to be wasting no time getting ready to leave. I walked quickly to catch up with his long strides and reached for his arm. He stopped and turned toward me.
“Branford, we cannot just leave her here,” I said as he began walking again.
“Why not?”
My eyes widened, and I was surprised by his lack of understanding of her plight.
“Where will she go? What will she do?”
“That is not my concern,” he replied with a short shake of his head.
“She is one of your subjects.”
“Only in the most general way, Alexandra,” he said with a sigh. “She can find work here somewhere if anyone can look past her former status.”
“And what if they cannot? What will she do then?”
Branford stopped walking and put his hands on his hips as he looked to the ground.
