The Mercenary's Bride

by TERRI BRISBIN

  ‘I would value your company, Father,’ the lady answered before he could. ‘But I fear you will be needed in other places during the battle.’

  To see to the wounded and the dying, Brice thought. They both turned their eyes to him and he nodded. ‘I am certain that the lady will aid you in your work on the morrow, Father. She would seem to be the kind of woman who prefers to be working and busy rather than waiting.’

  ‘I will leave you both then with a blessing.’

  The priest lowered his head and mumbled words in Latin, ending with the Sign of the Cross over them. With a nod to him, Father Henry made his way out of the tent, leaving Brice to face his wife alone. He motioned for her to sit and partake of the food and drink Ernaut had set out on the small table for them. Without taking her eyes from his, she sat and waited for him. Brice poured some ale from the pitcher and handed her a cup.

  They ate in quiet efficiency, but the tension between them grew stronger each second. When they each drank the last of their ale, Brice called for Ernaut to take away the platter and to help him out of his chainmail.

  Once the boy left, Brice removed the quilted tunic and braes he wore under the metal protection and hung them in one corner of the tent to dry out before he needed them for the coming battle. Then he turned to face her, expecting that she would turn away and not watch him undress. He nearly smiled as her nerve returned, and for a moment he held her gaze.

  Brice peeled off the undertunic, untied the loincloth he wore under the braes and loosened the garters around his legs. Turning his back to where she sat, he began washing as their breathing became the only sound in the room.

  He glanced over his shoulder and found that she had looked away after all. He finished washing and leaned over for the length of drying linen. Wrapping it around his hips, he noticed the blush that filled her cheeks even though she was not looking at him. When she did turn towards him, he watched as her eyes opened wide, making them appear huge in her face. And her mouth, the one that he dreamt of all day, opened and closed as though she tried to speak, though no words would come out. Glancing down, he could see the evidence of his body’s reaction to being so near to her and so naked with only a thin layer of linen between them. And so could she.

  He had hardened again within minutes of being with her this morning and every glance or word she spoke or every sight of her caused it to remain like steel throughout the whole of the day. Now, the gaze of those bright eyes staring at him, at it, simply encouraged him to a larger, harder reaction.

  Chapter Eight

  The only thing that had kept her from falling was that she was seated at that moment. Gillian felt her cheeks grow hot and reached up to touch them. He’d undressed so quickly that she could not utter a word, not a word of protest or warning. This must be his usual habit, of removing the heavy chainmail and undressing to wash before sleeping, and he did not even seem to mind her presence.

  Her body had reacted, though; her mouth had grown dry and her lungs could not seem to draw in a deep enough breath. Sweat formed on her neck and in the valley between her breasts. That place between her legs tingled, as did the tips of her breasts. She pushed herself to her feet and almost ran to the opening of the tent.

  Gillian wanted nothing so much as a cold cloth to place on her face, to ease the spreading heat in her cheeks, but he held the only washing cloth in the tent. He finished and wrapped a towel around his waist and handed the bowl of dirty water outside to Ernaut, issuing hurried instructions in a low voice. Then he spoke to her.

  ‘Ernaut will bring fresh water for your use, lady. Do you have need of anything else before seeking your rest?’

  Mayhap it was the undertone in his voice, or the pure masculine appeal of his well-formed, well-muscled body there naked before her, or just her complete and unseemly interest in the physical part of marriage, but whatever the reason, the urge to pull her cloak free and unlace the ties that restricted her breathing and kept the heat in place almost overwhelmed what little common sense she possessed in that moment.

  ‘Nay,’ she managed to say, shaking her head and clenching her hands against her cloak.

  He shivered then, his skin turning to gooseflesh. ‘Does it ever warm here in your England? The coldness is enough to shrink a man’s…’ He laughed aloud then and frowned as though searching for a different word from the one she knew he wanted to say. ‘After spending a winter here, I long for the lands in Brittany without this relentless cold and dreariness.’

  ‘Mayhap you should dress then, my lord?’ she suggested, accepting the bowl of steaming water brought in by Ernaut. The redness creeping up the boy’s face along with the immediate silence in the tent told her of her error in thinking. Clearly, Lord Brice had no intention of dressing. Ernaut coughed several times and backed out of the tent without meeting her surprised gaze again.

  Lord Brice did not speak again to her, either. He organised his garments and boots and sword, ones he would wear on the morrow no doubt, and then walked over to the pallet in the corner. When she dared a glance in his direction, he seemed oblivious to her presence. But when she’d finished washing and was herself ready to sleep, she found him lying with his arms behind his head, simply watching every move she made. The towel that had offered a small amount of decency after that shocking display of his body lay crumpled on the floor next to the pallet and that meant he now lay naked under the blankets.

  Gillian waited and waited for him to break the tension, to tell her where to sleep or what he expected, but he did not. Finally, she tried to be bolder than she felt.

  ‘I know not what you expect from me, my lord,’ she said, hearing her voice tremble.

  He smiled then, one that lifted the corners of his mouth and made him appear younger and less formidable, but no less attractive. He lifted the blankets, exposing more of himself to her.

  ‘Come to bed.’

  ‘I am not ready to sleep,’ she replied, more awake now than she’d been before. The images of his skin and the memories of the way he’d touched and kissed her beneath the blankets last night and this morning flooded her then, making sleep the last thing she thought on.

  ‘Come to bed,’ he repeated. His smile grew wicked and he tempted her to climb under the blankets with him. Her body understood the invitation more than her mind and she felt the heat spread throughout her as he held the covers higher.

  ‘I do not know what you expect of me,’ she repeated quietly, her usual confidence torn apart by the changes in her life this last day. Once more, and with a suddenness that surprised her, tears burned and threatened to fall. He sat up, drew his knees closer to his chest and leaned his arms there.

  ‘In these hours before dawn, I seek only some comfort in the arms of my wife.’ His expression gave away nothing more than his words did. ‘If I live through the coming battle, we will find our way through the rest of it.’

  Though not innocent any longer, Gillian did not know how to approach this stranger who was her husband. With her syrce and cyrtel still on and her cloak covering her from neck to feet, she could not imagine what he expected of her now. Did husbands simply toss up the skirts of their wives as they did their lemans or serving women? Was it not different somehow?

  ‘Take off your cloak and join me here, lady,’ he said in a voice so deep and husky with emotion that it made her breasts tingle. ‘Or is it your custom to sleep in such garments?’

  Truth be told, aye, sometimes she needed to sleep in as many layers of clothing as possible, for comfort or for safety, but he did not need or want to know such things now. ‘Not my cloak,’ she said, probably revealing more than she should have. He frowned at her reply before she shook her head and stopped him from asking more. ‘Nay, my lord.’

  ‘Brice,’ he said, sliding back and holding the blankets higher again. ‘Call me by my name when you come to my bed.’

  Deciding that some courage would be needed to get herself onto the pallet and into his arms, Gillian closed her eyes and dropped her cloa
k on the ground at her feet. Tugging her veil loose, it followed. Then, before she could hesitate, she pulled her cyrtel and syrce over her head and dropped them, as well, leaving her naked but for her shoes and stockings, and shivering from the coldness in the tent. Her skin pebbled quickly and she felt the tips of her breasts tighten from it.

  ‘Lady,’ he said, inviting her once more.

  She capitulated, whether from the coldness of the tent or the warmth of the invitation she knew not, but she knelt down on the pallet and found herself in his embrace a moment later. He encircled her with his strong arms, drew her down next to him and pulled the thick layer of blankets over their bodies.

  Feigning a bravery she did not yet feel, Gillian tried to ease the tension between them. ‘And you should call me Gillian when you are in my bed.’

  He drew back and looked at her, as though he could not believe her words. ‘Just so, Gillian,’ he replied. Then he dipped his head, touching his mouth to hers, and she forgot words and names and nearly how to breathe.

  From frightened woman to bold one, Gillian had changed right before his eyes. He’d recognised the fear of an innocent in her gaze when he undressed and washed in front of her. But then, as he gave her time and space, she seemed to relax in his company and allow herself to accept what had happened and what would happen between them. Her admission that she did not know what to do touched him, for it revealed a vulnerability she most likely guarded from others.

  Now, as he pulled her under him and plundered her mouth the way he’d been dreaming of all day, he knew that he must—nay, he wanted to make this night special for her. As special as last night had not been. And special enough for her to remember if it was their last night.

  She opened to him, but left her hands resting at her side and not touching him. So he reached over and guided one to his waist. As he touched and tasted the heated depths of her mouth, he felt the other hand slide along his skin to rest on his hip. His hardness surged then against her leg. Brice lifted his mouth and trailed kisses down her neck and onto her shoulders. When she shifted against him, her hips against his erection, he slipped his hand lower and laid it on her belly.

  Slow and easy was his motto this night; even if it killed him, he would bring her to pleasure before seeking his. Her innocent reactions to his kiss and his caress made it nearly impossible, as did the blood pounding through his veins and the hunger she caused within him. His erection grew stronger and he rubbed it against her, enjoying the friction. Not as pleasurable as the touch of her hand or the tightness of her womanly flesh would be, but for now, it would suffice.

  Brice discovered that Gillian’s breasts were very sensitive, so he leaned over and kissed her there. Then he laved the nipples until they grew taut. Drawing one into his mouth, he tongued the tip and then nipped at it with his teeth. Her gasp and shallow breaths told him to continue, but her hands holding his head there demanded it of him. And he complied, smiling against her soft skin and teasing each side equally.

  When she moved mindlessly against his hand and he was nearly out of control, he slipped his fingers between her legs and found that place to be wet and hot. At first touch, she held her legs tightly together, but as he rubbed firmly, then softly, and as he slid his fingers deeper inside the heated folds there, her legs fell open and he could caress her more fully. And he did.

  Soon, she trembled beneath his hands and his mouth. Lifting his head, in spite of her disgruntled moans when he did so, he kissed her mouth again, stroking inside and finding her tongue and suckling on it. With stronger and stronger motions, he brought her to the edge of her pleasure and pushed her over. Knowing that this was new to her, he urged her on.

  ‘Let go, Gillian. Let your body go,’ he whispered to her, never ceasing or easing up on the movements of his hand between her legs.

  When he felt the first quivers of tightening within her begin, he opened the folds of her nether lips and touched the tiny bud there. Her reaction was immediate and well worth his efforts. She clutched at his shoulders as the pleasure struck her, her body shuddering and trembling in his grasp, so he continued until she shook less and less, but moaned deeply in her throat. Then he felt her body relax in his embrace and she opened her eyes. Confusion filled them as she gazed at him.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked in a whisper. Still panting, she pushed some of the loosened tendrils of her hair from her eyes.

  ‘That is pleasure,’ he said softly. ‘Have you never experienced it before?’

  Though she’d been a virgin, there were ways to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh that did not include piercing a maidenhead. He’d done so many, many times with women who sought to have him in their beds.

  Her body trembled once more as a final wave shot through her and his body hardened in response. She noticed, for she gasped at the movement against her hip.

  ‘You did not…’ she began. ‘You have not…’

  ‘Not yet,’ he said, gritting his teeth against the need to fill her with his hardness.

  ‘Why not? I thought you wanted to seek…comfort.’

  He rolled away from her for a moment. Talking about what he wanted to do while close enough to do it and while trying not to was far too difficult when he could feel the heat of her skin and the way her heart still beat at the faster pace her passion had caused. Whatever words he thought to say vanished as she rolled onto her side and faced him.

  ‘Do you need help? I would think that to repeat the…act of this morning so soon must be difficult,’ she asked in one breath. At first he thought her to be joking, but the serious and concerned glint in her eyes told him she was sincere in asking. ‘What must I do to aid you?’

  He was in heaven and in hell, for his newly wedded wife was a temptress who knew not her own appeal. And who had little real knowledge of what went on between men and women. Brice would offer thanks later to have such a woman, but for now he tried to remember how to speak when all he wanted to do was climb over her lush, naked body and plough it as deep and hard as he could and forget what the coming dawn could mean to each of them. ‘Touch me.’

  It was all he could say.

  He closed his eyes and stopped breathing as she raised her hand and reached out towards him. Waiting to feel the first touch of her hand filled him with an anticipation not usual to him. Then her fingers grazed over his own nipples, causing them to pucker beneath her touch as her own had under his.

  ‘Did that hurt?’ she asked softly. He noticed she did not stop as she asked, sliding her fingers across his skin and touching the other one.

  ‘Nay,’ he groaned out, wanting, needing her to touch another part of him and praying she would not.

  Then she curled her fingers and let her hand glide down over his chest and across his stomach. She tickled the curls of hair there, but stopped before touching his erection. It reacted as though she had and he could not stop his body from arching against hers. But she did not touch, moving on to slide her fingers along the length of his thigh and back again.

  He used his free hand to take hers and place it where he truly wanted it, unable to resist the temptation any longer. Gillian’s eyes widened and her mouth opened, provocatively so, as she encircled his cock and closed her grasp around it. It was his turn to gasp as she moved her hand along the length of him and then down again.

  Just when he believed her capable of bringing him to release in this manner, for she was effective no matter how awkward or inexperienced her movements were, she released him. Brice might have begged in that moment of mindless pleasure, he could not be certain, but he tried to rein in his growing desire and need for her and let her lead…for now.

  ‘You look in pain,’ she whispered.

  Though she’d released him, she continued to slide her hand over his skin, touching his stomach and his thighs and his chest in slow, languid caresses that did nothing to soothe the tension inside of him. He doubted that she had any awareness of the resultant desire spinning nearly out of control in him.

&nb
sp; ‘I want you, Gillian,’ he growled then. ‘I want you now.’

  She smiled then and it lit her face and eyes with a glimmer that was angelic and bedevilling at the same time and one that he would dream about in the coming days and years. ‘Have me then, my lord,’ she said, in a low whisper. ‘Brice,’ she corrected.

  He must like boldness in women, for he laughed at her words and then kissed her with such ferocity that she felt the passion in him make her toes curl. A pulsing desire began to unfurl within the deepest part of her, not yet calmed from his earlier attentions. Now that she’d felt the pleasure he’d given, her body wanted it again, even if it meant enduring the other part of the act that was not as good. And while she knew that the next morn all their complications would need to be faced, she decided that this night was for them…and for this.

  She gasped then as he released her mouth and lifted her leg over his hip. That hot place between her legs felt the cool air of the tent, but he did not wait for long to show her another route to pleasure. Soon, she could not stop her body from arching into his hand. He used his fingers against that sensitive place and made her even hotter within moments. Gillian tried to touch him again, but he would not let her, guiding her hand instead to rest on his leg. She feared he would have nail marks in the skin there, for it was difficult not to clutch and scratch him as her body ached for more.

  When he moved between her legs and she found herself on her back beneath him, she tried to enjoy the waves of pleasure moving through her. She watched as he threw his head back and positioned himself to enter her, clearly something more pleasant for a man than a woman. Closing her eyes then, she tried to make her body remember the peak to which he’d driven her, for she knew it would be over very soon.

  And then he filled her with his hardness and she could not breathe or move or think.