She had not expected him to be so gentle, Rhiannon thought with surprise. Despite his big fingers, Maelgwn was touching her with a deftness that quite took her breath away. Even his kisses were tender, and she actually enjoyed the feeling of his tongue in her mouth.
But in the back of her mind, the fear lurked. Soon he would want more than to hold her and kiss her. Soon he would want to be inside her, hurting her. His hand moved down her body, and Rhiannon felt her blood turn to ice in her veins.
How smooth and lean her stomach was. Maelgwn's fingers glided lower, seeking the triangle of springy curls between her thighs. Her hair would be brighter there, he knew, a deeper, more vivid red. Suddenly, he wished the room was better lit. He would enjoy seeing the contrast between her flaming hair and pale skin.
Tantalized by the thought, he moved his hand between Rhiannon's slim thighs. She went dead still. He wondered if she even breathed. Frustration nagged at him. Rhiannon had not resisted him in any way, but she did not welcome him either. She was dry and tight and clearly unready. He must arouse her somehow, make her relax and accept him. Otherwise, penetration would be painful for her.
Rhiannon felt as if she could not breathe. He tried to push his finger inside her. It hurt; it would only get worse. She wanted to run away, to scream. Thank the gods Maelgwn lay half on top of her so she could not pull away and shame herself. But how would she endure it? How?
His frustration increased. He stroked her as gently and tenderly as he could, kissed her as skillfully as he knew how. But even nibbling on her neck and earlobes did not seem to arouse her; the woman was not responding. He could feel the tension in her body, hear her harsh, rapid breathing. He could not remember ever having to work so hard with a woman. What was wrong? Was it him? Or did she simply dislike lovemaking? The other women he took to bed appeared to enjoy it, but they were mostly whores and serving girls. He was not so sure about highborn women. The only princess he had ever had before was Aurora, and she was certainly passionate enough.
He forced the thought away. There was no point comparing his two wives. Rhiannon was obviously very different from Aurora. Still, as a princess, Rhiannon should know he was duty-bound to consummate the marriage. The agreement with Ferdic would not be valid until he came inside her body.
She had not relaxed. He had the sense that if his tongue were not in her mouth, she would be gritting her teeth. His desire dribbled away. He felt panicky, desperate. He could not force his new wife. It would hurt her, and she would never learn to trust him. Better to wait until another time, when she had gotten to know him better. What would it hurt to wait? Wearily, he pulled away.
Rhiannon tried to control her frantic breathing. She was glad he had stopped touching her, but her relief could not overcome her guilt and fear. Maelgwn sat on the edge of the bed, turned away from her. Obviously, he was disappointed, perhaps angry. She had failed him.
She had not meant to refuse him. The first part of his lovemaking had been pleasant, even enjoyable. His body felt warm and smooth; his mouth tasted good. But as his kisses became insistent, his hands probing and eager, the throbbing fear had overtaken her. She could not forget how big and powerful he was; despite his attempts at gentleness, he was bound to hurt her.
She glanced again at the motionless figure of her husband, the moonlight outlining the thick muscles of his back. She had caught only a glimpse of his naked body before he got into the bed, but she had marveled then at his broad shoulders, his lean torso and long legs, the fluid grace with which he moved. The raw power of her husband's form made her shiver. It was madness to resist the attentions of such a man. Somehow she must appease him.
Rhiannon fought to control her desperate thoughts. Esylt had once told her that a woman's power was even greater than a man's. A man could overpower a woman by force, but a woman could overpower a man by making use of his desire. Intrigued, Rhiannon had asked the methods of seduction, and Esylt had explained in detail the techniques a woman could use to enthrall a man's body.
A thrill of mingled hope and fear chased down Rhiannon's spine. Dare she try such a thing with Maelgwn? If she attempted to pleasure her husband, he might forgive her earlier rejection. Sitting up, she moved toward the still form on the edge of the bed.
The gloomy weight of despair pressed against Maelgwn's chest. He should never have married. He had feared taking another wife would be disastrous, and he had been right. Clearly, Rhiannon did not want him, and he had not the skill to win her compliance. He had failed, and failed in a way that a man, especially a king, should not fail.
Soft hands touched his naked back. Maelgwn started. Rhiannon was behind him, gently stroking him with her small fingers. He held his breath as her touch grew more intimate, probing deep into his tense muscles. What was she doing? Did she mean to entice him into loveplay once again?
Her hands moved to massage his neck. He sighed with contentment. He could feel her body close to his, the slight tickle of her hair brushing along his spine. Her hands moved lower, expertly kneading the sore muscles of his back, then reaching to his buttocks. He knew he should turn and begin to kiss her again, but he was afraid to try again, and this... ah... this felt so good, his worry and frustration almost forgotten.
She heard him sigh, and a half-smile formed on her lips. Her skillful fingers had not failed her. Although his body was not familiar to her, her hands knew exactly what to do. She could guess which muscles were most likely to be stiff and sore, and she concentrated her attentions there. The act of touching him gave her a strange sort of satisfaction. Maelgwn's skin was thicker and firmer than a woman's, but surprisingly soft. Heat rose from his body, carrying with it the warm, rich scent of maleness. She inhaled deeply, entranced.
Maelgwn groaned softly, and Rhiannon knew it was time to be more daring. She pressed her face against his back and moved her fingers forward to caress his chest, then lower. He inhaled sharply as she grasped his shaft in her fingers.
She touched him tentatively at first, then grew more confident as he swelled and stiffened with each caress. She stroked the length of his shaft, playing with the sensitive tip, twining her fingers around his flesh. Shimmers of delight ran along her fingertips. How marvelously a man was made, all velvet softness overlying rigid heat. Breathlessly, she reached her other hand to touch the silky pouches where he carried his seed. Closing her eyes, she leaned deeper into Maelgwn's strong back and concentrated on the rhythm her fingers had found.
He shifted his thighs apart, feeling her delicate fingers caressing, stroking, enflaming him. Dear God, it felt good! Where had she learned to do this? She knew exactly the right pressure, the exact rhythm to drive him wild. His mind was flooded with sudden, intense pleasure. He did not care where she had learned her skill, only that she continued to use it. Ahhhh... he would not last long!
His shaft was big, hard and throbbing in her hand. She tried not to think about him putting it inside her. If she could pleasure him well enough, he might not force her to couple with him this night.
Her arms grew tired. Rhiannon changed position, leaving the bed and moving around to face him. As she slipped to her knees, Maelgwn opened his eyes and stared at her, his pupils dark and dilated. Rhiannon fought back her fear. There was a technique, Esylt had promised, which unfailingly ensorceled a man's body and his will. Did she have the courage to try it, Rhiannon wondered? Was she brave enough?
Quickly, she pulled her eyes away from her husband's gaze and leaned over his thighs. With trembling fingers she lifted his shaft and took it in her mouth. He tasted salty and warm, his silken flesh stroking against the sensitive recesses of her mouth. She forced herself to relax, to ignore her fear of choking. Surely it was better to have his shaft between her lips, rather than inside her body, holding her down, thrusting into her.
Maelgwn's harsh, impassioned moans gave Rhiannon a thrill of accomplishment. She could hold this mighty warrior captive with her clever fingers, the subtle pressure of her mouth. It pleased her to please him, to
feel him shudder and urge against her lips.
Maelgwn groaned deeply. Who would ever have thought that Ferdic's daughter would be like this? She was beautiful, so small and perfect, as lovely as a summer's day, as deliciously fair as a springtime flower. The sleek strands of her hair blanketed his thighs. His fingers sought her face as he pushed into her exquisitely sweet mouth. His thoughts spun dizzily. He wanted to last, to prolong the extraordinary pleasure. He could not wait... he could not wait... "Ahhhhhhhhh!!"
She held her breath as Maelgwn found his release. He paused a moment, breathing hard, then released her, his hands slipping away from her hair. His warm seed slid down her throat. She swallowed, choked, then looked up at him, blurry-eyed. In the moonlight she could make out the expression on Maelgwn's face. His stern features were suffused with tenderness, the hard planes softened with warmth.
A strange sense of triumph came over her. Esylt had not lied. There was magic in the things a woman could do to a man, the artful techniques she could use to secure his affections.
"Rhiannon." Maelgwn lifted her up and pulled her close. Leaning back, he rolled awkwardly into the bed, still clutching her to his chest. Rhiannon closed her eyes as she settled herself against her husband. His heart thudded against her ear, fast and strong.
Maelgwn sighed with contentment. How perfectly she fitted beneath his arm. How light and fragile and warm she felt. He reached for Rhiannon's face, stroking her slightly pointed chin and fingering her small lips. His wedding night had ended strangely, but it was not without its pleasures. There would be time to do his duty in the morning, to coax his lovely bride into more conventional forms of lovemaking. For now he was tired, utterly replete.
Rhiannon shifted slightly, so Maelgwn's body did not press against hers so heavily. From his long, deep breaths, she knew he slept. She herself was far from the oblivion of dreams. Her mind spun with the dizzying wonder of what she had done. Could it be true? Had Maelgwn really whispered words of love as he drifted to sleep? Nay, she would not believe a word of it. Narana insisted you could not trust what a man said in the aftermath of lovemaking. By tomorrow the spell would be broken. Maelgwn would remember the first part of their wedding night, that she had not been responsive, that she had refused to welcome him into her body. His anger would return, banishing the softness which made his face almost unbearably handsome.
Rhiannon moved again, trying to escape Maelgwn's fierce embrace so she could crawl beneath the blankets. Near dawn, she finally stopped listening to his deep breathing and fell asleep.
Chapter 6
Maelgwn woke slowly, aware of the soft warmth of a woman next to him. It reminded him of the old days, when he slept in his old tower room at Caer Eyri with Aurora. Opening his eyes, he saw dark red hair streaming over the bedcovers. A lock of it was entwined in his fingers. He disentangled his hand and raised himself so he could gaze at his new wife.
Rhiannon slept like a child, sprawled on her stomach with the blankets wrapped around her middle and clutched tightly to her chest. With her skin flushed with the warmth of sleep, she looked as pink and fragile as a summer rose. He recalled the memory of her small, wet mouth upon him, her long hair covering his thighs. His shaft swelled with desire even as he fought the urge to wake Rhiannon and attempt lovemaking again. She had not acquiesced to his attentions the night before. Rousing her out of a sound sleep did not seem like a good way to win her compliance.
He brushed a lock of hair from Rhiannon's face and admired her delicate beauty. It had felt good to touch her and hold her in his arms the night before. Despite her small size, her body fitted comfortably with his, like a well-balanced sword that felt sure and right in his hand.
And yet, for all the pleasure she had given him, his wife was unwilling or unable to allow him to come inside her body. She had lain stiff and frozen next to him. Her heartbeat had been as frantic and fast as a terrified hare's. Her behavior recalled a frightened virgin, but she was obviously experienced. He could hardly remember the last time a woman had satisfied him so expertly, and Ferdic had vouched for her lack of innocence.
He frowned. It did not make sense. Why did Rhiannon fear lovemaking when clearly she had experienced it before? Did her dread of his touching her stem from the same source as the fear he sensed when they met in the weaving room?
Maelgwn felt a vague irritation as the ache in his groin failed to go away. He was too old to deal with a woman's inexplicable and irrational moods. He had been patient so far, but he would not endure rejection forever. A flash of anger mingled with his burgeoning lust; he decided to wake her.
As he reached out to caress Rhiannon, she moved restlessly in her sleep. A frown crossed her brow, and a long sigh escaped her petal-like lips. She turned over to lie upon her back, and the poignant sweetness of her features struck him. It was startling how young she looked, how vulnerable. A protective urge rose up inside him. He did not want to force this shy, delicate creature to his will, to aggravate her obvious unease with him. He would wait until night to consummate the marriage.
Maelgwn took one last look at his new wife, then hastily dressed and left the room.
She was in the forest. The sun shone down on her through the trees. She felt safe and relaxed, and yet she was concentrating, trying to remember a spell Llewenon had taught her. Above her, birds twittered noisily, interrupting her thoughts. One bird was especially loud; its chirping drowned out all the others. She wanted to throw a branch and scare it away, but she could not move. The bird's cry grew louder and louder.
"Rhiannon."
She sat up suddenly. The memory of the dream left her. Lady Gwenaseth stood by the bed. "I'm sorry to startle you, Rhiannon, but it worried me when you didn't wake. You've slept nearly the whole morning away. You must have something to eat. I brought you some bread and cheese, and some apricots from the priory at Conwy. They have a fine orchard there."
Gwenaseth held out a basket of food. Rhiannon sat up and took it eagerly. She had been too nervous to eat well the last few days. Now her body cried out for nourishment.
"I'll leave you then," Gwenaseth said as Rhiannon bit into the bread. "Taffee will stay and help you dress." She gestured toward a plain, brown-haired slave woman waiting by the doorway. "When you are ready, meet me in the kitchen of the great hall. I'll show you around the fortress."
Rhiannon nodded, her mouth full. She looked uneasily at the slave. She had never had her own servant before and had no idea how to command one.
Without a word, the woman named Taffee began to tidy the room. She gathered the wine and cups from the table and picked up the wilted flowers scattered on the floor. Then she came to the bed and began to straighten the bedclothes. Rhiannon wrapped one of the blankets around her nakedness and went to sit in a chair by the table. Her worst hunger was satisfied. Now she savored the taste of the delicious golden fruit Gwenaseth had called an apricot. It was shaped like a small apple, only softer and sweeter.
Her thoughts drifted, slowly shifting from the dream to the reality of her luxurious surroundings. A vague anxiety nagged at her. Maelgwn had left without waking her, which meant their marriage was still unconsummated. Rhiannon's unease deepened. By Brigante law, the marriage bond remained invalid; the wedding agreement could be easily broken. Even now Maelgwn might be informing her father that he did not want her for his wife, that he had found her cold and unresponsive.
A wave of panic urged her to her feet, prepared to go to Ferdic and argue for another chance.
"My lady, are you well?" the slave asked, regarding her curiously.
Rhiannon nodded and sat down. Her thoughts were foolish. If Maelgwn had gone to Ferdic, she would have known immediately, for her father would waste no time in confronting her. It appeared Maelgwn did not intend to disavow the marriage—yet.
She was certain the sex magic she had practiced on him had helped sway his decision. He had liked how she touched him; he had liked it very much. A smile formed on Rhiannon's lips as she recalled the feel of his
flesh beneath her fingers, the hot wonder of his maleness filling her hands and mouth. Esylt had not lied. Sex magic was amazing. The pleasure of it could almost banish the horror of that night in the forest with Llewenon.
"My lady?" The slave had finished the room and stood by Rhiannon, waiting expectantly. "Would you like me to do your hair or help you dress?"
"My hair," Rhiannon murmured, still caught up in her own thoughts. "It would be helpful if you could comb it out and braid it. It's too hot to wear down."
"But Maelgwn likes his women to wear their hair free and loose."
"How do you know?" Rhiannon asked, thoroughly surprised that a slave would make such a suggestion.
"Because his first wife always wore hers down," Taffee answered smugly, beginning to comb the tangles from Rhiannon's tresses. "She had long, thick hair, like yours, only wavy. She flaunted it, often leaving it unbraided. The other women resented her sometimes, but Maelgwn reveled in his wife's beauty."
Rhiannon was too startled to interrupt. Taffee continued, "You could hardly blame Maelgwn for enjoying his wife's appearance. She was tall and slim with full breasts and a body that made every man want to bed her. She had Roman blood, though, and looked it. Perhaps that explained her charm for Maelgwn. It seems he favors foreign-looking women," she added pointedly.
The servant's words dismayed Rhiannon. She did not need a reminder of her small breasts and childish features, the foreignness of her red hair and freckles. She wondered if the slave woman was deliberately being malicious. Taffee stood behind her, attending her hair, and Rhiannon could not see her face to guess her intentions.
Rhiannon decided she wanted to hear more. "Did you serve Maelgwn's first wife too?" she asked.
Dragon's Dream Page 6
