“Maybe we should talk and get to know one another,” she suggested.
He sat down on one of the bedrolls. Without his armor and clad only in his breeches and padded linen undershirt, he appeared far less imposing. He gazed up at Brooke and she studied him as if just seeing him for the first time; he had a nice, square jaw and a handsome face. His eyes were deep blue, like a lake on a warm summer day, and his long blond hair dusted the tops of his shoulders. It was very attractive hair, she thought to herself. He was attractive.
“An excellent suggestion,” he said. “What would you like to know?”
The focus was back on her. Hesitantly, she sat opposite him on the other bedroll. “Well,” she said slowly. “Where were you born?”
“At my family’s home in Cornwall,” he said. “My father is Baron Lisvane, a title he inherited from his father.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I have an older brother. His name is Ferris.”
“Is he a knight?”
“Aye, and a good one.”
She thought of more questions. “Where did you learn to become a knight?”
“At Okehampton Castle in Dorset. I spent twelve years there before receiving my spurs. Then I swore allegiance to Sir Braxton and have been with him ever since.”
She cocked her head. “Why did you not swear allegiance to a big house or to the king? Why do you serve Sir Braxton as a soldier of fortune?”
He smiled faintly. “Because I must make my own fortune, my lady. My brother will inherit my father’s lands and title upon his death. What I am to inherit comes from my mother’s side and it is not a tremendous amount. I must therefore make my own way. Sir Braxton has provided me with that opportunity.”
“Oh.” She nodded in understanding, having run out of questions for the moment. But she did think of one more. “Then why did you agree to marry me? I don’t have anything of value to offer you. Shouldn’t you have married for money?”
Dallas held an even expression; he didn’t want to tell her the truth, that Braxton had very nearly forced him into the marriage with promise of a very large dowry, Erith Castle, and the Kentmere title. He didn’t think that would be a very good way to start off their marriage, though it was the truth. Judging from her youth and immaturity, he didn’t think she would take it very well.
“I think that you do,” he said ambiguously. “You come from a fine family and I think this will be an agreeable marriage for us both.”
He shifted on the bedroll and she leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with fright. Dallas had no idea what had startled her until he realized he had inadvertently moved closer to her.
“Sorry,” he moved back to his original position. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“You did not,” she lied, but looking in his eyes, she realized that he was very aware of her fright. “’Tis just that I…”
He patted the bedroll beside him. “Come, lady wife. You must get some sleep. We have an early day ahead of us.”
She stood there, watching him remove his boots. Her face began to flush as the moment she had been dreading was fast approaching. She felt embarrassed, terrified, and curious all at the same time. But Dallas lay back on his bedroll, quite primly, and folded his hands across his chest. He looked up at her.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Do you require something?”
She stood there and twisted her hands. “Nothing is wrong,” she lied for the second time, very timidly kneeling down on the bedroll. Though he was at least an arm’s length away from her, he might as well have been lying on top of her for all of the dread she was feeling. But she managed to lie down, fully clothed, and pulled part of a blanket on top of her. Dallas suddenly sat up and flipped the rest of the blanket on top of her, covering her feet. Brooke yelped with fright, preparing to leap up again, but Dallas put his hands on her and shoved her back down.
“You’ll never get any sleep if you keep jumping up every time I move,” his voice was low. When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “Listen to me and be done with this foolishness. I have no intention of claiming my husbandly rights tonight, so you can rest your mind. Now, will you go to sleep?”
She gazed up at him, the blanket pulled up around her neck. “You… you do not want to…?”
He shook his head. “If I did, I would have to take it by force and that is not the manner in which I wish to start out this marriage.”
She was calming with amazing speed. “But… but it is your right. My mother said I should be obedient and do what you tell me.”
He almost laughed. “And do you plan to listen to her?”
She nodded emphatically but when he lifted an eyebrow at her, her enthusiasm waned. “I will listen to you, but I would like for you to listen to me, too.”
“Very well,” he propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down into her sweet face. “What would you like to say?”
She blinked; what did she want to say? “I… I should like to say that Sir Braxton and my mother tell me you are a fine man and that I am thankful that you are a fine man and do you at least want to kiss me?”
It all came out as one rapid-fire sentence. He couldn’t help it; he burst into laughter. Brooke sat up, frowning.
“Why are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
His blue eyes twinkled. “Because I find you humorous,” his laughter faded. “And very pretty.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh.”
She looked uncertain again and lay back down. Dallas watched her for a moment as she pulled the blanket up to her neck again. Then he leaned over her, very close to her face. He was surprised she didn’t bolt again.
“Yes, I would at least like to kiss my wife on the eve of our wedding,” his voice was low and deep. “May I have your permission?”
Brooke’s heart was thumping wildly against her ribs as she gazed up into his strong face. She was positive he could hear it. Maybe having him close wasn’t such a horrible idea.
“Aye,” she managed to stammer.
Dallas lowered his lips to hers, slowly as not to startle her. When their mouths touched, it was a magical moment. She was soft and warm and sweet. He kissed her gently, his lips gently suckling hers. He kissed her longer than he had intended simply because she was so delicious. He pulled away before he lost his control, his deep blue eyes lingering on her.
“Good night, Lady Aston.”
Brooke’s head was swimming. She was stunned, overwhelmed.
“Good night.”
Dallas blew out the light. Brooke lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, listening to the sounds of the night outside the tent, feeling strangely warm and safe. She’d never felt anything like it. Suddenly, Dallas’ hand was on her arm, a gentle yet inherently protective gesture. He had a big hand, strong and warm. She liked it.
Brooke fell asleep with her fingers touching his.
*
“Gray,” Braxton’s voice was a soft growl. “Come lay down, love. Come away from the door.”
But Gray couldn’t. She was standing in the tent flap of the larger tent, her eyes on the small tent in the distance. Her amber eyes were full of unshed tears when she finally managed to pull herself away.
“She’s so young,” she said as she made her way over to the pallet that Braxton had fashioned for them. It was about as far away from Geoff as they could get without actually leaving the tent. “I am afraid that she will.…”
“How old were you when you married Garber?”
She eyed him. “Fourteen years old.”
“And your daughter is fifteen years old. She is no longer a child.”
“But she is still very young.”
Braxton reached out and grabbed her when she came close enough. He pulled her onto his lap as he sat on the pallet and his big arms went around her.
“You worry overly,” he told her, nuzzling her shoulder. “Dallas will not be unkind. Besides, she is his wife now. You must not interfere.”
She gazed at him, the blue-green eyes that were now the center of her world. She smiled weakly, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her nose against his.
“I have every right to interfere,” she told him lightly. “I am his wife’s mother, after all. And you are his liege.”
He groaned. “God, you are not going to be meddlesome, are you?”
She laughed softly. “Perhaps on occasion.”
He grinned and kissed her. She tasted so good that he kissed her again. The spark that ignited so readily between them burst into flame and his mouth claimed her firmly, his tongue probing the tender places of her mouth.
“Dallas isn’t the only man with a new wife,” he murmured, his mouth still on hers. “I have one, too.”
His hand was on her breast again, the powerful warmth firm against her body. She could feel his heat through her bodice.
“Is that so?” she whispered as his mouth moved across her jaw. “And what do you intend to do with her?”
Braxton’s response was to latch on to her neck, half-biting, half-suckling. It was enough to drive her mad, a soft moan escaping her lips. They fell back on the pallet, his arms around her, his mouth on her neck.
Acutely aware of Geoff’s presence, Braxton pulled the blanket up over them both just in case the man should awaken. At least he wouldn’t see much. Braxton’s mouth returned to her lips and he kissed her with ferocious intensity, each suckle or stroke of the tongue giving way to stronger passion. His big hands pulled at the top of her shift, pulling down the surcoat and fabric until the rise of her breasts was evident. Beyond that, he had to unfasten the back of it. In a flash, he rolled onto his back and Gray ended up straddled on top of him.
He stopped kissing her long enough for their eyes to meet. With a glance at Geoff, Gray reached behind her and unfastened the back of the surcoat. She pulled it off with Braxton’s assistance, baring her breasts slowly and modestly. When her firm, round globes were revealed in the weak light, Braxton reached up to touch them ever so gently. He was reverent and adoring. Then he pulled her down to him, his mouth seeking a rosy nipple.
Gray gasped when he suckled her, gently at first, and then with more force. Painful jolts of excitement ran throughout her body and she had to make a conscious effort not to make any noise. But her ragged breathing told Braxton how much she liked it, the hands in his hair encouraging him on. She held him to her breasts as he nursed between them, his tongue lapping at her soft flesh.
Gray removed his padded shirt, leaving his broad chest bare. The moment was not lost on either of them; Braxton’s mouth moved back to her lips and their naked flesh touched for the first time, her chest to his. It was a wildly erotic moment, full of magic. But they knew, instinctively, the best was yet to come.
Somehow, she managed to remove herself from both the shift and surcoat and Braxton’s breeches were off and laying somewhere next to them. Completely nude, the touch of their heated bodied against each other was dizzying. Gray was lost in a haze of desire, feeling Braxton’s hands all over her, his mouth in tender places. When he rolled her over onto her back and began to kiss her belly, she put a hand in her mouth to keep from screaming. It was the most amazing thing she had ever experienced.
Braxton moved lower still, his mouth now on the mound of dark curls. Gray’s legs instinctively parted for him and he settled his big body in between them, his mouth loving her most private core. Both hands went into Gray’s mouth as she literally bit off the screams of passion bubbling up her throat. His tongue was wicked, his mouth hot, and she had never before experienced anything so intimate or powerful. Every lap of the tongue and she was ready to scream.
But she was quickly reaching her climax; Braxton could feel her body beginning to twitch. Lifting himself up, he gazed into her eyes, his fingers on her lips. He was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t even speak. All he wanted to do was look and touch and feel. Gray gazed back at him, trusting, passionate, as he put his massive manhood at her threshold. She could feel it lingering there, hot and pushing against her. She wanted him so badly that her limbs ached. With the prelude of a deep kiss, Braxton drove deep into her slick folds.
Gray’s knees came up, her body arching into his thrust. Braxton was the one who groaned this time, biting his lip to keep quiet. She was tight and hot and he withdrew, thrusting hard once again and seating himself fully. Gray’s pelvis rocked up against him and he lost his control then, feeling the animal instinct to mate with this woman. He thrusts were measured, deep, pelvis against pelvis as they matched each other move for move. Sweat began to glisten. Braxton lifted himself up on his arms just so he could watch her magnificent body in the weak light. It was an awesome sight.
His thrusts grew deep, harder, as he felt his release approach. He fell back on top of her, gathering her against him, his face buried in the crook of her neck. He could hear someone whispering sweet words to her and he realized it was him. He was telling her of his desire for her, since the moment they met. She was weeping with joy.
My wife. He whispered the words, thrusting deliberately with each syllable. My wife. He thrust hard again, feeling his climax come. My wife. He said it through gritted teeth, feeling Gray’s body tighten in response, a volcanic climax throbbing through her slick walls. But she never uttered a sound; when he opened his eyes, her hands were in her mouth. She had bitten down so hard that she had left big red welts, evidence of the staggering sensations he had provoked within her.
His movements slowed to a stop, but his arms remained around her, holding her so tightly that he squeezed the air from her. But Gray didn’t care; she was in a stupor, a haze of satisfaction such as she had never known. Braxton was all around her, his body still embedded within her. She never wanted to move from this state. She could hardly believe he belonged to her, and she to him. The hands came out of her mouth and wound around his neck, holding him as tightly as he was holding her. In this position, they fell into a deep, sated, dreamless sleep. It was a night to remember.
On the opposite side of the tent, Geoff lay there with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling and beads of sweat on his forehead. The night had been an evening for him to remember, too.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The morning broke heavy with mist. The fires from the previous night had burned into low, smoking embers that, by dawn, were being re-stoked by the soldiers.
Braxton left Gray sleeping soundly, having dressed with extreme quiet before quitting the tent. He emerged into the cold gray dawn to find Dallas standing near the larger of the fires. Smoke was heavy in the mist, clinging, as he approached his knight, now his son-in-law.
Dallas nodded as their eyes met. “My lord,” he greeted. “How does your lady wife fare this morning?”
Braxton eyed Dallas, a smile lurking on his lips as he recounted the night’s unbelievable passion. “Well enough,” he said. “Though she was terribly worried about her daughter last night. I trust all went well?”
Dallas’ demeanor moved from that of a professional soldier to one of a new bridegroom. He lifted his eyebrows. “She stopped crying, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “I believe she slept well. She is still asleep.”
Braxton nodded his head as if that was enough answer to his question. But it wasn’t. “Everything… went well?”
Dallas knew what he meant. He looked at Braxton, a slightly confused expression on his features. “It seems rather strange now that you and I are related.”
“Aye, it does. In private, you will call me Braxton, as befitting my daughter’s husband. There is no need to be so formal.”
Dallas seemed rather pleased at the prospect, though it was still a bit odd to him. “As you wish,” he said. After a moment, he answered the original question. “I did not bed her if that’s what you are asking. She would not have taken that well at all. That is something that will come with time.”
Braxton drew in a deep breath. “You would be correct had you the luxury of time,” he looked pointe
dly at him. “But you do not. Suitors will be coming from now until Martinmas and you must consummate your marriage so there will never be any chance of an annulment or any other breach of contract. You married Brooke for a reason. Do I make myself clear?”
Dallas met his gaze, finally lifting his eyebrows in surrender. “You are right, of course,” he said. “But last night… that was not the night to do it.”
“It doesn’t matter. For her sake, you must do as you must. She will understand when she grows older.”
He nodded reluctantly. “As you say.”
“Before we leave for Erith, Dallas.”
“Aye.”
Silence settled between them like the fog, heavy and pensive. They stood and watched a couple of soldiers tease the embers into a roaring blaze and put water wine on to boil. Other soldiers were breaking down the camp and loading the wagons. Graehm approached from a cluster of trees to tell them that the men searching for de Aughton had returned empty handed. They had searched as far as Redmayne, several miles to the south, but had been unable to track the man. The knowledge made Braxton uneasy.
“He could not have simply disappeared,” he said. “He must be somewhere.”
“If he is, he is well hidden,” Graehm said. “We had some of our best trackers looking for him.”
Braxton’s blue-green eyes took on a distant look as his mind moved to the knight that had so boldly gone after Gray. “That may be, but they did not look in the right place.”
“What are you suggesting?”
He was silent a moment, contemplating. “If it were me, and knowing that I would be tracked, I would not try to run unless I had a very fast horse. And de Aughton was horseless. Moreover, we have all of his possessions with us – the saddlebags on his charger were filled with his money, clothes, and other items. He literally has nothing with him but the clothes on his back. So perhaps he’s not run. Perhaps rather than move away from us, he’s moved closer. Would you not want to recover what was rightfully yours?”
Graehm wasn’t following him, but Dallas was. “Do you think he’s watching us even now?” he asked.
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