Stefan plunges two, or perhaps three fingers into me again, but at this different angle he manages to rub the heel of his hand against that most sensitive piece of flesh at the opening. I squirm, and my body is clenching again. I bend my knees, thrusting upwards in an attempt to increase the friction.
“Be still, Natalia, Allow me to do this for you.” His fingers continue their relentless, driving motion as he leans over to brush his lips across mine. His kiss is gentle, undemanding, though I know he could, would take command entirely if he chose.
“Tally. I am Tally.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“While any part of your anatomy is inside me, I am Tally. It is not my given name, but my family call me that.”
His low chuckle is warm, sensuous. “Ah, Tally then. Come for me, Tally. Now.”
“I do not understand. What is it that you want?” My voice is breathy, I am finding it difficult to concentrate in the face of the near overwhelming pleasure burgeoning within me. No part of my body is unaffected, I am trembling, tingling, on the verge of …
“Now, Tally. Let it go now.”
In the next instant I am flying. I have on occasions watched the birds gliding above me and dreamed of what of would be like to join them, to swoop and soar in the air, weightless. This is it, this is that sensation. I am spinning, swirling, my body and mind no longer my own, seized by an irresistible spasming that seems to start in my core and pulse outwards to the very ends of my fingers and toes. I am scared, and exhilarated at the same time. This is incredible, wondrously terrifying. But regardless of my discomfiture, my confusion, I am powerless to stop what is happening.
Nor would I wish to. It is glorious, though the sudden release leaves me limp. The intensity of the sensation recedes, my body relaxes. I feel boneless, and utterly content.
I lie still, Stefan’s arms around me. I no longer care that I am naked, nor that he has spanked me, hurt me, frightened me. He has delivered the most exquisite experience of my life, I have encountered nothing of this sort in the past. Somehow he knew just how to touch me, how to caress and arouse me. He controlled my response, and made it seem so effortless. I turn to him and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Tally.”
The use of my family pet name from his lips sends another sweet tingle through me. It carries with it an intimacy, offering a promise of something comforting and safe. But as I lie in his arms, savouring his hard warmth, his solid strength, the crushing reality of my situation descends. I know this is a promise of something I cannot, must not, have.
I have made promises also, to myself, to Sophia, and to God. In truth, the prospect of becoming the duchess of Richtenholst is one I could readily enough warm to, I suspect, but there is more at stake here than just my happiness. This was a stolen moment, a rare gift of pleasure snatched from the crumbling wreckage of my life, an aberration no doubt brought on by the stresses and terrors of the last days.
“Tally? Are you ready to get dressed now? We have much to accomplish this day.” His grace hauls himself up to a sitting position, and I go with him. He pats me on the backside, the tap playful and I’m realise that my bottom is no longer especially sore. “Shall I play lady’s maid for you or would you prefer me to summon Karl?”
“I can dress myself, my lord.” I try to move away from him, intending to seek out my clothes from yesterday. I dread to contemplate the state they will no doubt be in after my adventures in the tunnel.
“Ah, back to the formalities are we? Mayhap you require my fingers to be inside your sweet cunt once more, to remind you of our new status.”
I turn to him, my face no doubt betraying my genuine shock at his crude remark. Unrepentant, the duke grins at me and stands up. He picks up a blanket from the floor and tosses it in my direction.
“Cover yourself, Tally. I expect Karl has breakfast for us, and some clothes for you. Naked, you are a truly beautiful sight, and one I would not be averse to sharing with my loyal servant and companion. But from the expression on your face I surmise that you may have other ideas about that.”
He strides to the entrance of the tent and leans out. “Karl, our stomachs are under the impression our throats have been cut. What do you have for us?”
With a startled squeak I am galvanised into action. I drag the blanket around my shoulders and grip it tight, every inch of me covered except for my head. I am only just in time as Karl saunters in bearing a tray. He sets it down on the table, offers a nod in my direction, and leaves again. Moments later he is back, this time carrying a bundle of clothes. He drops those on the bed in front of me.
“Yours, I understand, my lady. I hope they are among your favourites. I am not normally called upon to select a lady’s garments.” The look Karl directs at the duke could best be described as baleful. The man seems to consider himself put upon.
For my part, I am grateful. And confused.
“Thank you, Karl. They are mine, but how did you…?”
“I encountered a woman in the castle when I went there to seek out your possessions. Berthe? She was intent upon guarding the royal chambers from defilement by our troops but I managed to prevail upon her good nature. She took some convincing but I can be insistent when such is needed. The woman finally agreed to show me which chamber you used, and where your belongings were kept.”
I am stunned again, horrified at the fate that has seemingly befallen poor, loyal Berthe. What form did Karl’s ‘persuasion’ take?
“Did you hurt her? Please, tell me that she lives still.” My gaze swivels from one man to the other as Karl turns to me, clearly astonished.
“Hurt her? Lady, I value my hide too much to have risked such folly. Mistress Berthe remains safe and well. You will be able to ascertain this for yourself soon enough as she has insisted upon joining our party. She travels with us to Richtenholst.” He turns to address the duke. “Such was her price for aiding me yesterday. I judge the woman to be a faithful and skilled servant, my lord, and I expect her to prove an asset to your household. Perhaps your new duchess will be requiring a lady’s maid…?”
The duke frowns and appears to be considering the matter. He shrugs and helps himself to a slice of cold meat from the tray. “Mayhap. Do you want the woman, Tally?”
Again I am nonplussed. He is inviting my opinion. I gape at him, nodding.
Berthe? Sweet Berthe is to come with me. I am to know a familiar face among strangers. “Thank you, my lord. Yes, Berthe is a good servant. She will work hard and…”
His grace dismisses my gratitude with a wave of his hand. “You have Karl to thank, not me. It seems neither of us will be called upon to dress you after all. Karl, how go our preparations?”
The manservant levels his attention once more upon the duke. “I took the liberty of reclaiming a number of other items which my lady may find useful on the journey, my lord. I have those stowed with our own supplies ready to leave. I trust that too meets with your approval?”
The duke shrugs, seemingly unconcerned one way or the other. “I’m sure Natalia will appreciate your efforts. I don’t suppose you could see your way clear to reclaiming my tunic and boots? And make sure the horses are readied. I want to leave within the hour.”
“Leave, my lord? You are leaving?” I quash the surge of disappointment this news elicits. I should be relieved. I am not.
“We are leaving, my lady. And at some point on our journey we will need to press a priest into service. You are not yet my duchess, at least not to my full satisfaction. I intend to remedy that at the earliest opportunity.”
“No! No, sir, I cannot marry you.”
“No? It is probably a little late for such sentiments, and after this morning’s sport I really believe you should.” His grace has managed to locate his own boots and is dragging them onto his feet. His leer at me is pure lust.
I squirm lest Karl should spot it and surmise at least some of what has already passed be
tween myself and the duke, but the man seems intent on collecting the discarded buckets from last night and clearing them from our sleeping quarters. I have cause for further embarrassment when Karl discovers the vessel I used to relieve myself earlier. He makes no comment though, just picks it up and strides from the tent.
“Lady Natalia, please get dressed. Then you will eat. We will be a long time on the road and weddings cans be taxing work. You will require a full belly.”
“No, my lord. I cannot come. I will not. I will not be your wife. I am to be a nun.”
Again that chuckle. “My lady, you would make a singularly poor nun. I do, however, detect the makings of a decent duchess. Get dressed now, please.”
I gather my makeshift cloak around myself. I am scared, my stomach is churning, but I feel compelled to make a stand. “I will not. I have told you, I am to take holy orders.”
“You will take orders, Natalia, but they will not be holy. Your clothes, then break your fast. Do not make me repeat myself again.”
The memory of my spanking at his hands is too recent for me not to shiver in alarm. His tone has hardened, his expression no longer teasing. But I must make him listen. He must see that this is impossible.
“I am promised to God. It has always been my intention to enter a convent.”
“Your plans have changed. Christ has ample brides already. Our convents overflow with them. I am sure the good lord can spare me just one. If you insist upon spending half your life on your knees I have no objection to that, but it will not be in a cold chapel.”
“This is blasphemy, your grace. And I do not understand you, where else would I kneel?”
His sensual leer forewarns me that somehow I have drifted into a trap, an ambush of which I had been blissfully unaware. “You may kneel at my feet, Natalia. Naked, of course. You will take my cock in your mouth and worship that.”
The flush reaches to my very bones. Heat engulfs my features. I cannot, simply cannot believe he has uttered such a thing to me. How can he be so crude, so, so… explicit? And what earthly reason might my quim have for the sudden wet gush that sends moisture dribbling down my thighs?
“My lord, you are, you are… despicable. I allowed you to spank me, and to touch me. I should not have, I should have fought you. I should have protested, even though you would have easily overpowered me. But even so, there is no reason for you to say such things to me. I am a lady, not a, a…” My words trail off. I cannot bring myself to mouth the denial.
“A whore?” The vocabulary of the duke of Richtenholst is hampered by no such scruples. He stands and approaches the bed, then takes my chin in his hand. He tilts my face up, forcing me to meet his steady gaze. “No, you are not a whore, not in the usual course of things. You are a lady, a respectable lady of the royal court. But in my bed, you are my whore. And this is not to be deplored. This is what I want from you. It is what I will demand. Your willing surrender. And you will love it, Tally. All of it.”
“I will not. I cannot.”
“You can and you will. And you will start now, by obeying me. You know the consequences if you do not.”
“Your threats do you no credit, sir.”
“We are talking of promises, not threats, Natalia. I made my promise to you earlier, before I spanked you. You know how it is to be between us.” He pauses for a moment or two, just long enough for me to recollect his words. He told me he would be a firm husband, but fair too, and loving. I have had a glimpse of all these qualities, and privately I own that were it not for Sophia I would gladly accept what he offers. It seems though I am to have no choice in the matter.
His palm slides from my chin and down my neck, dragging the blanket with it. He reaches further, pulling the fabric from around my shoulders to pool at my waist. It never occurs to me to resist. His hand cups my breast, lifting it, feeling the weight. His thumb brushes my nipple, and I gasp. Still he does not allow me to drop my gaze.
“Do not test me further on this. I will be back in a few minutes. I expect to find you dressed, fed, and ready to accompany me as we embark on our journey to Richtenholst. Until then, my lady…” He leans down to kiss my lips.
Then he is gone, the tent flap swinging behind him.
Chapter Six
What is it about the wench that has me in such knots? She’s pretty enough, granted, with her hair the colour of pale honey, and her little heart-shaped face. Her grey eyes alternate between dove-like acceptance and stormy defiance. I crave both. I knew her body would be perfect, and it is. She is slender, supple, on the surface she appears fragile but I detect an inner strength. Her peachy bottom, upturned, inviting her punishment is a sight that will remain with me for many a day. Rarely have I gazed on such perfection. And her response to my touch was divine, her climax given to me on command.
Nun indeed. She would shrivel and die in some chilly cloister. She may resist now, but she will bless the day I laid an alternative future before her. A future she was born for, a life her body was made for. I can, will, mould her, for her own pleasure as much as mine. And we will find joy in each other.
But first, there will be pain. There will be resistance. I will overcome that. I will spank it out of her, and I will pleasure her to distraction. She will not regret becoming my duchess.
I make a circuit of our encampment checking on Karl’s preparations for our departure. It is a needless task; I am merely marking time until I must return to my quarters and learn whether or not the lady has obeyed me. I hope so. While further punishment does hold a certain attraction, I was not exaggerating when I told her that I would take a switch to her backside. If I must discipline her again this day, her treatment would be harsher. I doubt I would find her sweet quim wet and welcoming after a few strokes of wet willow. At least, not this first time.
No, it is better that she obeys me now, and we proceed on our way.
I cannot delay any longer. I turn on my heel and stalk back to my tent.
Natalia is fully dressed, seated on the end of the bed. She looks like a frightened sparrow, and utterly miserable. Her gaze lifts to mine as I enter. Her lovely eyes are glistening. I glance from her to the table. The tray of food is untouched.
Disobedience? Or have fear and misery robbed her of her appetite? I opt for the latter.
I approach her, but rather than towering above her this time I squat at her feet. Her face registers her surprise.
“My lady, you must eat. Please. Just a little now, and more later perhaps?” I school my features into a gentle smile, determined to calm my bride rather than add to her alarm.
She makes no move, so I stand and select several morsels for her. I assemble these on a slice of brown loaf and present the food to her. To my relief, she takes it and starts to nibble on a hunk of cheese. I force myself to remain patient while Natalia picks her way through ham, cheese, a small mug of mead, and some honey dribbled onto the bread. Despite her protestations she actually consumes a hearty meal, and I am content we can safely set out.
Karl has selected her clothes well. She is wearing some sort of warm woollen gown and stout boots, and the cloak he has draped on the bed looks weatherproof enough to ward off the December chill. We will be travelling south and the climate will become milder as we approach Richtenholst, but here in Hohenzollern the winter’s grip is starting to settle over the landscape. I would not wish to save my lady from frostbite yesterday, only to have her freeze to death on a mountain pass in Bavaria.
I pick up the cloak and drop it across her shoulders, stepping in front of her to tie the ribbons at her throat. She is motionless under my ministrations. I offer her another smile, one intended to reassure though I fear it falls short.
“We leave now, Tally. Come, you will ride with me.” I usher her from the tent, leaving Karl to disassemble it when we have gone. He will follow us and catch up in a few hours.
My horse is tethered a few yards from the camp, chewing the sparse grass and snorting white plumes into the chilled morning air. A veritab
le monster of a stallion and as black as the night, Hades stands at over seventeen hands high, towering over me and most other men. My bride is dwarfed by him. An experienced warhorse he knows his craft and has served me well for several years. He looks the part, though when not in armour he is a gentle giant, content to graze and grow fat if I would let him. He has work to do today carrying the two of us, but I have no doubt of his strength. He will need it to service the several fine mares I have selected from the Hohenzollern stables.
I loosen the tether and grasp the reins, then swing into the saddle and reach down for Natalia’s hand. She offers it with a degree of nervous reluctance, but I haul her up before me easily enough.
“On, boy.” At my murmured command the warhorse starts forward. Our journey has begun.
With the exception of Karl and a handful of men who will remain to assist him in the heavy lifting as our camp is dismantled, the rest of my knights and guards travel with us, as do the maidservant recruited by Karl and whose name escapes me at this moment, and the troop of Hohenzollern horses. Our force is formidable, certainly sufficient to convince any brigands roaming the countryside to seek easier pickings elsewhere. I do not fear for myself, but Lady Natalia’s safety is also my concern.
The next two hours pass in near silence. I check that Natalia is comfortable, and warm enough. She answers my queries in the affirmative, her back rigid, her eyes fixed straight ahead. After a couple of leagues her posture is slipping, she is clearly tired, her muscles tensing under the strain. I invite her to lean back against me.
“Thank you, my lord, but I am perfectly comfortable.”
I lean in to lay my lips close to her ear. My words are for her alone.
The Conquered Brides Collection Page 27
