Stephen took her hand and pulled her against him, facing Kenneth as he did so. “My lady,” he said. “This is my closest friend, Sir Kenneth St. Héver. Ken, this is my wife, the Lady Joselyn Pembury.”
Kenneth bowed graciously. “My lady,” he greeted. “Stephen did not exaggerate about your beauty. You are indeed the most beautiful woman in all of England.”
Joselyn chuckled softly. “You are too kind, my lord,” she said in her deliciously sweet voice. “I am very pleased to meet you. Welcome to Berwick Castle.”
“Thank you.”
She eyed her husband with disapproval as she spoke. “I apologize that I did not meet you in the great hall and provide you with a satisfactory meal, but my husband is rather stingy about that. He will only allow me out of this room once a day and I had to choose – greeting you when you came or sharing the evening meal. I chose the evening meal.”
Kenneth wriggled his eyebrows, his gaze moving between Joselyn and Stephen. “I would have chosen the evening meal as well, my lady.”
She smiled at him. “Will you at least come in and sit? Let us become better acquainted.”
Stephen squeezed her gently. “He did not come to stave off your boredom,” he scolded lightly. “He is here to help me, remember? I must show him the castle. We have much to discuss and you will see him tonight.”
She made a face at Stephen, one that Kenneth found very charming and very funny. “Can I at least come and walk with you?” she asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
With a growl, Stephen picked her up and carried her back into the room, depositing her on the bed. “You will stay here and rest,” he instructed firmly. “I will see you later.”
She scrambled off the bed. “Stephen, I have been lying in bed all day. I feel fine. Can I please come and walk with you and Sir Kenneth?”
Stephen’s jaw ticked as he looked at Kenneth, pointing a finger at his wife. “Do you see what I must deal with? She is as difficult as a spoiled child.”
Kenneth fought off a grin. “Leave me out of this. You will not like my response.”
Stephen pursed his lips at him. “I already do not like your response, you traitor,” he turned back to Joselyn. “Please, sweetheart. Stay here and we will return later. You must rest.”
Joselyn grabbed on to his arm and refused to let go. “Please,” she begged softly. “Just five minutes. Let me walk with you just five minutes. I promise I will not allow myself to become too tired.”
He gazed down into her lovely face, knowing he was going to relent no matter how much longer they debated the subject. He had realized one thing very quickly in the early days of this marriage; he would cave to her every desire with hardly a measure of resistance. He had been a slave to her for the past ten days, since she had been injured, catering to her every request, small or large. But in truth, he didn’t mind. He loved every minute of it.
“Very well,” he sighed with exasperation. “But only five minutes. And if you argue, I shall not let you come outside for a week. Are we clear?”
She smiled brightly at him and patted his cheek. “Very clear, my angel.”
Stephen just rolled his eyes, took her by the hand, and led her out of the chamber. Kenneth preceded them down the stairs and they ended up in the bailey. Joselyn found herself between the two enormous knights as she held on to Stephen with two hands, as if afraid he was going to get away from her.
“Tell me, Sir Kenneth,” she began. “Do you have a wife also?”
Kenneth shook his head. “I do not, my lady.”
“Oh?” Joselyn looked up at him. He was a brutally handsome man with his pale blond hair and white lashes. He had a square jaw and a very manly face in general. “I cannot believe some deserving young woman has not snapped you up. What is your background?”
Kenneth didn’t like to talk about himself, especially to someone he didn’t know, but he responded out of respect for Stephen. “My father was a knight for Henry Percy,” he told her. “My mother was a daughter of Princess Blanche, eleventh child of Henry the Third.”
Joselyn looked at him, surprised. “Your grandfather was King Henry?”
“Aye.”
“Tate and Kenneth share the same grandfather,” Stephen put in. “They are distant cousins.”
She looked up at Stephen. “The Earl of Carlisle?”
Stephen nodded. “Tate is the first born of Edward the First. His mother was a Welsh princess, a daughter of Dafydd ap Gruffydd. Had Edward been married to Princess Dera, Tate would be the king of England.”
Joselyn came to a halt, her mouth open wide with shock. “You have allowed me to become so familiar with this man who should be king?” she was appalled. “Why did you not tell me of Tate’s lineage?”
Stephen was amused. “It was not your concern. Moreover, he is not king. It is not improper for you to befriend him, especially as my wife.”
She lifted a well-shaped eyebrow at him. “And what about you? Is there anything you have not told me about your lineage? Are you related to Christ perhaps and I do not know it?”
Stephen laughed at her and gave a gentle tug to resume their walk. “We are all brothers of Christ, Lady Pembury,” he said. “But in answer to your question, I have told you everything about me. I do not have such grand relatives as Kenneth or Tate.”
“Peasant,” Kenneth muttered with mock disdain.
As Stephen grinned, Joselyn recommenced walking beside her husband. “I do not have such grand relatives, either,” she turned to Kenneth once more. “Now more than ever, I am curious as to why you are not married. With your heritage and handsome looks, you could command a fine bride.”
Stephen laughed as Kenneth tried not to look too uncomfortable. “All in time, Lady Pembury,” he said. “I would not worry overly about it if I were you.”
“But she is right,” Stephen insisted, goading the man. Kenneth was such a serious character that these opportunities were rare. “With both Tate and me married, you are the last one. We must find you a bride.”
“I will find my own bride. I do not require your help. In fact, I fear it.”
“Why?”
“Because you would saddle me with the most petulant woman you could find.”
Stephen laughed uproariously. “I have several in mind, in fact.”
Joselyn grinned as her husband and Kenneth bantered back and forth. She was simply enjoying being out and about, under the bright sunshine and embraced by Stephen. In the days since her injury, she’d felt better quickly enough after he removed the arrow but the wound was still oozing and she had been running a slight fever for almost nine days. It was enough to cause her to exhaust easily, which is why Stephen kept her in bed most of the time. He couldn’t seem to figure out why the fever was still active and made her take a variety of medicaments from his magical bag. She accused him of experimenting on her, which he was not. He was simply attempting to find the right medicine that would cure her.
More importantly, however, was something she had kept from him simply because she couldn’t be positive and she didn’t want to spook him. Her menses had been due on the days following their marriage but still had not yet come. She attributed it to the stress of the marriage and her wound, but she could not be sure. Perhaps the fever was somehow preventing her cycle. The thought of bearing Stephen a son thrilled her but she well remembered her last pregnancy and how she was sick the entire time. She could hardly even hold water down. That part, in fact, did not thrill her. So she kept it to herself, knowing the next few weeks would tell for sure.
That was, of course, in the event that God had forgiven her for both disobeying and lying to her husband. Ten days after the ambush, she was still convinced that God had punished her for being wicked. Every time she thought of leaving her room when Stephen was not around, she reminded herself what her disobedience had gotten her. She could no longer rationalize that she was trying to help her husband by contacting the rebels. The plain truth was that
she had lied to him. She tried not to hate herself for it.
So she relished the time they spent together, especially in moments like this. Walking next to Stephen’s enormous form, she felt proud and happy, and extremely lucky to be alive. He was sweet and attentive with her, no mention of her disobedience and lying since she had apologized for it. For the past ten days, life between them had been unimaginably wonderful.
Stephen and Kenneth were still bantering back and forth by the time they reached the kitchens. Stephen came to abrupt halt and looked at her.
“Your five minutes are up,” he said. “Back to bed now.”
She shook her head vigorously and let go of him, standing just far enough away that his long arms couldn’t grab her.
“Just five more,” she pleaded. “I am not tired in the least. It feels wonderful to walk about. Please, Stephen?”
He put his big hands on his hips and cocked an eyebrow at her. “What did I tell you? If you argue with me, I shall not let you out for a week.”
Gazing up at him with her pale blue eyes, her lower lip stuck out in a pout and he folded like an idiot. Reaching out, he took her hand with gentle irritability and they resumed their walk.
“Oh, very well,” he snapped softly. “Five more minutes.”
But she dug her heels in as he tried to pull her forward. “Can we collect the fawn? He hasn’t been outside in some time and needs to walk about, too.”
“Nay.”
“Please, husband?” she smiled prettily and folded her hands in front of her as if praying to him. “Please?”
Stephen looked as if he were about to burst a vein but he kept his irritation in check. He simply pointed at the kitchens and she dashed inside, emerging a short time later with the fawn in her arms. Putting the little thing down, it stood unsteadily for a moment before bounding off. Before Stephen could stop her, Joselyn was bounding after it. He called to her a couple of times as she chased the animal around but gave up when she ignored him. With a heavy sigh, he and Kenneth resumed their walk.
“I saw as I arrived that the town is fairly destroyed,” Kenneth wisely changed the subject away from Lady Pembury based on Stephen’s frustrated expression. “Have the raids been constant?”
“They were very violent in the first few days following the surrender,” Stephen was watching Joselyn run around. “But they have died down considerably in the past seven days. Perhaps two or three very small skirmishes, but for the most part, it has been relatively quiet. However, I know they are not over. I have a very bad feeling that the rebels are building up to something big.”
“What do your scouts say?”
“That there is very little activity anywhere in the city. The outskirts seem deserted. I fear the Scots have gone somewhere to regroup and attack in larger numbers.”
Kenneth grunted in agreement. “They simply would not have faded away voluntarily.”
“Nay, they would not have.”
They had circled around the yard and had reached the postern gate that led to the river. Joselyn had cornered the frolicking fawn a few feet away and they watched her as she knelt down to pet the little animal. Stephen looked particularly pensive as he watched his beautiful wife tend the little creature. His frustrated expression had softened into one of adoration.
“Joselyn’s cousin is one of the rebel leaders,” he said quietly. “The man has been in my vault since the city surrendered. We have tried repeatedly to wrest information from him and what information we were able to obtain ended in Joselyn being wounded. I am concerned that he is our only link to the Scots who are unwilling to accept English rule of Berwick.”
Kenneth grunted. “Let me talk to him. Perhaps I can… persuade him to tell us what he knows.”
Stephen wriggled his eyebrows. “Be my guest.”
As Kenneth split for the gatehouse and the vault within, Stephen made his way over to his wife as she knelt down next to the fawn. He stood over the pair for a moment, watching her scratch the spotted little head.
“’Tis time to return to your room,” he told her. “Your five minutes has long been expired.”
She gazed up at him. “Can I bring the fawn?”
He shrugged and she stood up, holding the little animal to her chest. Stephen put an arm around her shoulders and led her back to the keep. He took the animal from her as they mounted the narrow stairs to their chamber, but Joselyn took the animal back from him once they reached the room.
“Now,” Stephen put his hands on his hips, watching her as she set the little creature down near the warm hearth. “I am returning to Kenneth and I want you to stay here and rest. You are not to play with the fawn or jump about. You are to get in bed and lie still. Is that clear?”
She turned to him, properly obedient. “Aye, my angel.”
He looked at her strangely. “Angel? Why do you call me that?”
She went to him, stood on her tip toes to kiss him. But she was not tall enough so he bent down to allow her to kiss him sweetly on the cheek.
“You are an angel to me,” she smiled when their eyes met. “My guardian angel.”
“I am the Guardian Protector, not a guardian angel.”
She shook her head. “You are an angel. You are my angel.”
He pursed his lips to let her know how ridiculous he thought she was, but in truth, he was rather touched. “If you think sweet words will cause me to allow you to run amuck as you please, then think again. I shall not fall victim to your flattery.” He pointed insistently at the bed. “You are going to lie down on that bed and rest even if I have to sit on you.”
She giggled at him and his response was to kiss her deeply, his big hands in her hair, on her face. He was having a difficult time taking a firm stance when she was so sweet and charming. It made him love her all the more.
“I was not showering you with empty flattery,” she insisted as he smothered her with kisses. “I was thanking you for taking such good care of me.”
He pulled back, his cornflower blue eyes warm. “You are welcome.”
She grinned, rubbing at his cheeks affectionately. “My sweet, handsome angel.”
He wrinkled his face and tried to pull away. He sensed coercion coming. “I am leaving now.”
She held on to him dramatically. “My sweet, sweet husband,” she made loud kissing noises at him. “You are the most powerful, handsome and adorable man in all the land. You are so kind and generous. You are so….”
He was trying to pull away but he was not doing a very good job. He covered his face with his hands when she threw her arms around his neck and began peppering him with insincere kisses. The ploy was now in full force but he couldn’t seem to get away from her. In truth, he was not trying very hard. He was enjoying it.
“Cease!” he roared weakly. “You will not change my mind. You cannot leave this room until the evening meal and nothing you say will change the fact.”
She laughed loudly when he tripped and fell backwards over the bed. She pounced, straddling his belly and kissing the hands that covered his face as Stephen feebly tried to defend himself.
“Stop!” he commanded.
“Never!” she responded devilishly, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Look at me, Stephen.”
“No,” he mumbled fearfully behind the hands over his face.
“Do it,” she shook him. “Remove your hands and look at me.”
He shook his head. “I am afraid to.”
“I promise I will not hurt you.”
His snort reverberated off his hands. “I am not afraid of that. I am afraid you will bewitch me into doing your will.”
She smiled, kissing his hands gently. “I promise I will not bewitch you,” she said, laying her cheek against the back of his enormous hands. “Now look at me.”
He splayed his fingers, the blue eyes glimmering with humor. “I am looking at you. Now what?”
She sat up, still perched on his belly, and began to peel his fingers away, one at a time. She ki
ssed each finger as it came away. Then she pulled both hands off, rough and calloused things. She put them against her cheeks.
“I will rest for the afternoon if that is your wish,” she said softly. “But I would like permission to see to the evening meal when the time comes. This is a special occasion, after all. It is not every day that Kenneth St. Héver visits. I want to make sure everything is perfect so he will be impressed with the kind of woman you married.”
He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs before pulling her down onto the bed and taking the dominate position over her. He lowered himself, gently feasting on her neck and collarbone, tasting her sweetness. The playfulness was over and the gentle passion was beginning.
“He knows what kind of woman I married,” he breathed. “The most wonderful woman in England.”
She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as he progressed from kissing to fondling her. He hadn’t made love to her since before her injury and she suddenly very much wanted to feel him against her, inside of her. In the past ten days, the man had become her entire world. Her lips found his earlobe.
“Take me,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “Nay, sweetheart, as much as I would love to, I have duties to attend to right now.”
“Duties can wait. ’Tis been too long, Stephen. Take me now.”
He shook his head again and lifted his lips from the swell of her bosom. The cornflower blue eyes were glazed with passion as he gazed at her.
“You are still ill,” he insisted gently, cupping her face. “I do not want to tax you. You must get well before we can….”
She put her hands on his head, pulling him down to her. “I am fine,” she teased as her lips brushed his. “Please, Stephen. Do not deny me.”
He knew he should not but his willpower was not strong enough. When she plunged her little pink tongue into his mouth, he was lost. Her surcoat came off beneath his gentle, eager hands and his mouth latched on to a tender nipple. Joselyn groaned softly as his lips moved over her breasts, her torso, his touch gentler and more reverent than she had ever known it to be. When he finally impaled her on his great phallus, she wrapped her body around him and moved with him, feeling his great strength around her and in her. His touch said a million words his lips couldn’t seem to and she whispered in his ear as he thrust into her, telling him of her love for him. Her softly purring voice only heightened his fervor.
Lasses, Lords, and Lovers: A Medieval Romance Bundle Page 20
