The Dark Brotherhood: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Rhoswyn looked at him sharply, realizing what he was asking, and then feeling her cheeks flame at the mere thought. Did she know? She certainly did. This was the moment she had been dreading.

  “Aye,” she said. “I know.”

  “What do you know?”

  She frowned. “I havena done it before if that’s what ye’re askin’.”

  He tried not to smile at her outrage. “That is not what I meant,” he said. “I simply meant… since I have done this before, if you would like me to explain the situation, I will be happy to.”

  Rhoswyn had never been so embarrassed in her life. To speak of such personal things with a stranger! But Troy wasn’t any stranger; he was her husband. As of tonight, he would be a stranger no longer. But so much about this day had been in upheaval – her entire life was in upheaval, now with a husband who wanted to take her to London and explain the ways of men and women to her. It was almost too much to process and for the first time all evening, her composure was fracturing. Not in the sense that she wanted to run away again, but in the sense that she couldn’t comprehend a man who would be so understanding. Not after the day they’d had.

  “Why?” she finally hissed, unable to look at him. “Why would ye do this?”

  Troy turned from the fire to look at her. “Do what?”

  She turned her head away completely. “Be so kind tae me,” she said. “Do ye not realize what I did tae ye today?”

  “I do.”

  “Yet ye show no anger?” She did turn around, then, looking him in the eye. “I wanted tae defeat ye and I did. I hit ye and I kicked ye and knocked ye tae the ground!”

  “I know.”

  That wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “But, still, ye have been kind tae me,” she said. “I dunna understand why ye would do such a thing.”

  Troy stood up from the fire, scratching his head pensively. Then, he eyed her as he formulated an answer to what was a legitimate question.

  “I suppose I did it because you were more upset about the situation than I was,” he said. “I am much older than you are, Rhoswyn. I have seen much in life. It is true that I can become angry rather quickly and it is true that you made me angry today with your tactics. But, as my father pointed out, you did not trick me. You simply used the element of surprise. I cannot become angry about that because, in hindsight, it was a smart tactic. As much as I did not like it, you did what you had to do. From one warrior to another, I respect that.”

  Rhoswyn was looking up at him, listening to that deep, soothing voice. “I did it because I knew I couldna best ye any other way,” she said. “Ye’re bigger than I am and more powerful. I knew if I dinna strike ye down first, I would never have another chance.”

  He nodded as he sat down on the edge of the mattress. “I realize that,” he said. “You ask why I have been kind to you? Because you were forced into this just as I was, but now that it is done, we must make the best of it. I would like for this union to be a civil one. I do not want to spend the rest of my life fighting with you.”

  It was the rational way to look at the situation and Rhoswyn realized that she, too, didn’t want to spend the rest of her life fighting with him.

  “If we must be together, then I would like it tae be civil also,” she said.

  Troy simply nodded, pleased that she was at least agreeing with him. That gave him hope. With that, the conversation died off and he bent over a leg and began to unfasten a boot.

  As Rhoswyn watched, the boot came off and he went to work on the other one, and she began to realize that he was undressing for bed. Or, at least, what was to come in bed. Feeling her nerves all over again, she turned her back on him and looked down at herself; she wasn’t one to sleep in her shift. In fact, she’d slept in her clothes since she was a child. It was her mother’s influence that made her bathe and brush her hair once in a while but, for that, she wouldn’t have cared in the least. And she’d never in her life undressed in front of anyone.

  She wore three tunics and the heavy leather tunic on top of that. Her legs were clad in the leather breeches and, like Troy, she wore boots. She glanced over her shoulder to see that he was removing his heavy woolen tunic with the wolf’s head on it, so she thought she might as well remove the leather tunic she wore. It was more like an apron and she unfastened the ties, pulling it over her head and tossing it against the wall.

  Sitting down on the mattress, she untied her boots, which were nothing like Troy’s boots. His were smooth pieces of leather, expertly sewn together and crafted, while her boots were simply pieces of leather attached to a sole that were then held to her leg by a series of ties. Glancing over her shoulder casually to see what state of undress he was in, she could see that he’d taken off his padded tunic, revealing a thin linen tunic beneath. Since he’d removed another piece of clothing, she did too.

  Unbeknownst to Troy, every time he would remove something, Rhoswyn would. Vastly uncertain, she didn’t want to be dressed any more – or any less – than he was. When he was down to his thin linen tunic and breeches, she was, too. But then he pulled the tunic off and she could see his broadly-muscled back.

  He was nude from the waist up.

  The mere sight made her heart beat strangely. Illuminated by the firelight, she could see his muscles rippling as he moved. She’d seen the flesh of men before, but not like this. Never like this. It seemed to affect her breathing and her cheeks grew hot. Fearful she was about to embarrass herself greatly, she turned away just as Troy stood up and went to the other side of the bed, pulling back the makeshift coverlet.

  “I cannot promise it is comfortable, but it is better than sleeping on the ground,” he said. But then he noticed that she was simply nodding, her back turned to him, and he knew why. He remembered a nervous bride eighteen years ago and he had another one now, although under these circumstances, Rhoswyn had every right to be nervous and upset. “My lady, if you are not comfortable doing what must be done tonight, then I will not force you.”

  Rhoswyn was surprised by the offer but terribly grateful. She turned her head slightly, enough so that Troy could see her fine profile in the firelight.

  “I have shamed ye enough today,” she said, so nervous that her voice was trembling. “Ye’ve shown kindness and patience. I would not dishonor ye further by refusin’ tae share yer bed.”

  “No one would know but the two of us. If you do not want to, then we can put it off to a later time when you are more comfortable.”

  He was giving her the option and it meant a great deal. Was the man so truly kind and patient? She’d never known anyone like him. But she honestly couldn’t refuse him what was his right. Everything was so new and uncertain right now but, even so, she’d not lost her sense of duty. She may have hated what the day had brought her, but that didn’t mean she was going to be a coward about it. What was it her father had said? Be worthy of him.

  She was coming to think that she very much wanted to be.

  “Yer suggestion is a kind one, but unnecessary,” she said. “I willna shirk me duty. But… ye’ll have tae tell me what it is ye want me tae do.”

  Troy realized it was probably difficult for her to say that. He also knew that how he handled this situation would probably affect their entire relationship, forever. He wanted it to be civil, but didn’t want any more than that. Aye, she was beautiful and, with time, she would probably make an acceptable wife. But beyond that, he had no hopes or expectations. He’d had love, once, and he didn’t expect it or hope for it again. The love he had was for Helene, and that had not gone away these two years yet it had faded into something warm and comforting. When he thought of her, he remembered the feelings he had for her. He didn’t particularly want to feel those for anyone else, not even a beautiful Scottish warrior woman who had bested him in a fight.

  But that wasn’t something Rhoswyn ever need know.

  Still, Troy knew how to be kind. His mother had seen to that. The sweet and endearing Lady Jordan made sure all of he
r sons knew how to treat a woman, and Troy was particularly good at it as evidenced by the way he’d handled the situation with Rhoswyn. When he’d seen her fighting and kicking in the hall, bound in ropes by her own men, he knew that he had to be the one to ease her. It couldn’t have come from anyone else. He had to be the more reasonable person at that moment because she was incapable, frightened as she was. So he’d made the effort and now they found themselves in the same bed, on their wedding night.

  All was calm and he intended to keep it that way.

  “I will not tell you,” he said quietly, “but I will show you. Do you trust me?”

  Rhoswyn thought on the question. Did she trust him? Strangely enough, she did. The man had proven himself to be kind and honorable so far, inevitably earning what trust she had to give. But given that he was a Sassenach, inherently, she was wary.

  But that resistance was fading fast.

  “Aye,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I do.”

  “Good,” Troy said. “Now… just relax and let me do what needs to be done. Can you do that?”

  “Aye.”

  “And not resist?”

  She let out a pent-up breath, as if she’d been forgetting to breathe. “Nay… I’ll not.”

  Reaching out, he touched her on the shoulder, by her neck, and a wild fire ran up and down her spine, causing her breath to come out in a painful gasp. Rhoswyn had never known the touch of any man, so Troy’s warm hand against her shoulder sent sparks firing through her body like nothing she’d ever experienced. His other hand came up, touching her other shoulder, and she must have made some kind of noise that suggested she wasn’t opposed to his warm, gentle touch because the next thing she realized, his mouth was on the side of her neck.

  After that, it all seemed to pass in a blur.

  Rhoswyn closed her eyes because the sensations Troy was creating overwhelmed her, swallowed her, and the only way she could fully realize them was to close her eyes and digest the powerful experience. His mouth moved over her neck and onto her back, where he was kissing the flesh. Kisses that caused her body to tremble and her breathing to come in odd pants. As she sat there on the edge of the bed, his big body moved up behind her and his enormous arms went around her, pulling her back onto the bed.

  She was on her back now, smelling the stale hay from the mattress as Troy covered them up with a blanket that smelled of horses. It was scratchy and rough, but Rhoswyn wasn’t paying attention. Troy was straddling her somehow – she didn’t dare open her eyes and look – but she could feel him hovering over her.

  And his hands were moving.

  Surely, confidently, they were moving. Stroking her arms, moving to her hands and pulling them to his lips. He was kissing her fingers and she could feel his hot breath on her flesh. Then he was nibbling on her hands, her wrists, and he dropped her hands long enough to yank her thin linen undertunic over her head in one swift movement.

  He almost yanked her head off with it and Rhoswyn gasped with surprise as she ended up naked from the waist up. Pulled from feelings of warmth and excitement, a flood of embarrassment filled her at her nakedness and she thought to protest but she quickly remembered that she’d promised him that she would not resist. He’d asked her to trust him, so she had little choice. But thoughts of resisting and embarrassment abruptly faded when he came down on top of her and his heated mouth began to suckle on a warm nipple.

  Witchcraft!

  That was all Rhoswyn could think when he fondled her breasts, suckling between them, and she liked it. Aye, she liked it! Somehow, the man had bewitched her into liking what he was doing to her. Trust took on a whole new meaning as his mouth, his tongue, moved over the flesh of her torso while his fingers now pulled at her hardened nipples, tugging at them, and every time he did it, she would gasp and groan. Her body seemed to be making the sounds all on its own, as if she had no control over what was coming out of her mouth. Something else seemed to have taken hold of her, for things like shame and fear had fled, leaving a quivering and willing shell in their wake.

  She had no will of her own.

  For certain, Troy seemed to be a man possessed. Along with the kissing and suckling he was doing, she could hear him inhaling deeply, as if sucking in her scent, breathing in her very essence. He was feeding off of it, suckling and biting at her torso, dragging his tongue over her belly. Her breeches were the last frontier, a garment that was laced at her hips to keep them tight, but Troy yanked the ties free and, with one hard pull, drew them all the way down to her ankles.

  As he pulled off one of the legs, leaving the other leg still bunched up around her ankle, he shoved his face into the thatch of dark curls between her legs and inhaled deeply. It was intimacy in the most basic way, a man acquainting himself with what belonged to him. It was the scent of his woman.

  Then, he went into a frenzy.

  Troy’s fingers began to probe wet, intimate places. Shocked at the unexpected move, Rhoswyn forgot her promise not to resist and she put her hands on his, trying to pull him away. But Troy wouldn’t let her remove his hand; he bent over to kiss her arms, her wrists, before pulling her fingers away to suckle on them. The action forced Rhoswyn back into the realm of warmth and arousal, feeling a strange heat between her legs and having no idea what it was or how to quench it. All she knew was that there was a hunger there now that she’d never had before, and when Troy finally put his manhood against her threshold and thrust slowly but firmly, she began to understand what that hunger was, because he was beginning to feed it.

  It was a primal need that took over her instincts. To Troy’s surprise, Rhoswyn thrust her hips forward, awkwardly, and he slid into her warm, wet body nearly his entire length. He also quickly realized that she had no maidenhead, probably lost somewhere in the years of riding horses, as sometimes happened with women. But her tight body and grimacing expression told him that she was, indeed, a virgin and he withdrew, coiling his buttocks and driving his full length into her. As Rhoswyn groaned with the unexpected and slightly painful experience, he began to move.

  His thrusts were deep and measured, and the pain quickly subsided, leaving that same strange hunger that seemed to grow every time Troy thrust into her. Rhoswyn lay on her back, legs parted and gripping Troy around the neck as he continued to move in her, grinding his pelvis against hers when he was in too deep to go any further. The grinding of the pelvis caused sparks to fly and her body to quiver, and as Rhoswyn was trying to absorb all of the pleasurable and strange new sensations their lovemaking had to offer, the hunger between her legs seemed to roar.

  The tremors of that roar rippled through her body as she experienced her first release, bringing a cry to her lips at the exquisite ecstasy of it. Rhoswyn held on to Troy tightly, feeling as if she needed an anchor. Surely if she didn’t hold on to something, the effects of that roar would blow her all over the chamber. Gasping, she held on to him as hard as she could, hearing his soft grunt in her ear as he found his release as well.

  It was over, but it wasn’t over. Troy remained on top of her, still moving in her, still touching her. His lips were on her forehead, kissing her tenderly, and somewhere in the kisses, his soft voice told her to sleep.

  Rhoswyn didn’t need any prompting; her body was already halfway there, languid and boneless. She couldn’t have moved if she’d tried. All cuddled up in Troy’s enormous, warm embrace, it was as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment. She was safe and she was warm, and she was content. She’d never known such satisfaction of the soul in her entire life.

  Witchcraft, indeed.

  When she awoke the next morning, Troy was gone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “A marriage.”

  “Aye… a marriage.”

  The muttered words came from Fergus and Artis, sitting with Dunsmore outside of the hall near a fire they’d built themselves, unwilling and unable to sit inside with a host of Sassenach soldiers while Rhoswyn was married to one of them.

  This wasn
’t the outcome they’d hoped for.

  Fergus most of all. He was grossly disappointed by it and grossly insulted that he hadn’t been consulted on such a matter. It had been a shocking decision on Keith’s part and nobody was very happy about it – a marital alliance. Had Keith told him what he’d been planning all along, Fergus would have done his best to talk him out of it. Protested if he had to.

  Tie the man down and beat some sense into him if it came down to it.

  But there had been no chance for protests because the deed was done. Rhoswyn was married to a de Wolfe son and was even now in the tower with her new husband, doing things that would bring about a de Wolfe heir and a potential claimant to the wealth of Clan Kerr. It was true that because of the laws of tanistry, or the Gaelic succession rights, no female or the offspring of a female could inherit the chief’s position, meaning that a de Wolfe grandson couldn’t become the chief of Red Keith’s clan. But Keith could certainly gift the child, and his daughter, with what fortune he had accumulated. That would split the clan’s wealth with a half-Sassenach bastard and no one wanted to do that.

  Therefore, those meant to inherit what Keith had were quite displeased with the recent turn of events. But what to do about it was the question.

  It was true that Fergus was a man who avoided conflict. It wasn’t that he was a truly peaceful man; it was simply that he had a cowardice streak in him, something his brother overlooked. He was family, after all, but that cowardice streak was why Fergus had remained on the hill with Keith’s men when Keith and Rhoswyn had gone to confront the English. That was the brutal truth of it. But now Fergus was wishing he hadn’t remained behind given the bargain that Keith had struck.

  “I canna believe he’s done such a thing,” Artis said, poking at the flames with a stick. “I never thought the man capable of betrayin’ his lands and his people.”

  “These are our lands!” Dunsmore banged his hand against the hard-packed earth. “He’s given them tae the English. He’ll give it all tae the English!”