I moved beneath him, wanton in my desire, and he responded to my affection with eagerness, increasing the speed of his thrusts. When I cried out, he smiled down on me and moved faster still. I had no name for what I was feeling, as I’d never felt it before. The only thing I knew for certain was that I felt like my body was being torn apart, yet I loved every moment of it. Tears came to my eyes, and for once, I let them flow down my cheeks, the only true sign I could offer of my joy.
“Oh, sweet Cecily,” my husband murmured as he loomed over me. “You are the most beautiful of women. I am a lucky man indeed.”
“Antony,” I answered, my voice rich with emotion. Instead of the slap of a strap, he buried himself deep within me, enough to make me arch my back and mewl my pleasure. I thought that the joy would never, ever end. Even when we’d spent ourselves, he pulled me close beside him and I closed my eyes feeling, perhaps for the first time in my adult life, wholly and completely loved.
* * *
The feeling did not fade even when we woke the next morning. The innkeeper had left a basket of fresh berries and newly baked bread outside the door and we broke our fast without a stich of clothing on. As we ate, we sampled each other. I would pop a berry in my mouth and gasp moments later to discover Antony’s tongue tasting my shoulder blade. Shyly, I explored his body as well, as much as I dared.
We were both aglow as we dressed for the day, and my heart felt as though I’d never known a moment’s worry. Surely this was what it meant to be loved. There was a part of me that wanted to feel pity for Wallace, who’d most assuredly never known such a thing, but I pushed thoughts of him aside. I was enjoying my new husband far too much to worry about the old.
“It won’t be long until we reach my farm,” Antony told me as he helped me in the saddle. “I… I can’t wait for you to see my home. It isn’t much, but—”
“I will love it, dearest. As I do you,” I assured him warmly.
He grinned up at me to hear me speak so freely of love but said nothing more as he mounted his own horse.
I could not have said if our journey took minutes or hours, for I kept sneaking glances at Antony, and each time I did, my body filled with a rush of delicious excitement. I tried to turn my mind from such unladylike thoughts, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he would make love to me that evening—or perhaps even when we’d reached the farm. The occasions when he caught me looking at him were best of all because then I’d get to see the light of his smile which would make me giggle with a giddy rush of delight.
When he drew up his horse, I pulled on the reins to stop beside him. “This is my home,” he said, and the note of pride in his voice was unmistakable.
At first, I was too absorbed in watching him to see anything, but when I let my gaze follow his, I was astounded by what I saw. Instead of the run-down farmhouse I’d been expecting—indeed, he’d made mention more than once that he lived on a farm—a large, sprawling house sat tall on a large stretch of land. It was pretty—all green and gold in the sunlight, which was rare for the winter months. Surely it couldn’t all be his.
Yet, when I turned to him and saw the twinkle in his gray eyes, I knew that it was. I looked at the land again, seeing field after field of silver wheat waving in the light breeze, a few apple trees, and animals herded into pens. I wondered, not for the first time, what kind of life I could expect as his wife. My very next thought was that it would be bigger and more beautiful than I’d ever expected.
“You… you’re a lord.” The thought hadn’t even been made clear to me until the words were out, yet I knew them to be true. “You never said.”
“Forgive me the deception, my lady. It was not my intent. It is not something I boast of.”
I turned back to him, my gaze sharp, but one look at him and my gaze softened. He had a point, after all.
“All shall be made plain over dinner, wife,” he assured me rather cheerfully as he dismounted his horse. “But suffice it to say that I inherited the title from my father and am a small lord of an even smaller land.”
“Yes, my lord,” I murmured pointedly as I allowed him to help me down from my horse.
“Ah, do not sass me. I fear your bottom has not yet recovered.”
I was about to reply when his fingers tilted my chin up and his lips seized my own, robbing me of words. By the time he released me, I couldn’t begin to remember what I would have said if given the chance. Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a boy walking toward us. I turned to my new husband, the question ready on my lips when I looked at the lad again. There was no need to ask who he was. The child was no more than eight or nine, his hair long and sandy blond, his eyes a bright, cornflower blue, but there was no mistaking that hard jaw and the dimple in his chin. He was Antony’s through and through.
Antony caught my eye and clucked his tongue. “Do not fault me, my lady, for you never asked,” he chided me gently.
I bit back any remark I might have made, for he was right, of course. I hadn’t asked a single thing about him, and having the fact before me filled me with shame. Antony had been so unendingly kind to me that I feared I might never be able to repay him.
“Do not worry,” he whispered in my ear as he looped his arm around my waist. “There will be plenty of time to learn about each other.”
I had only just relaxed when the lad stopped in front of us. “Hello, m’lady,” he said, offering a clumsy bow that made me want to giggle. His eyes were so serious as he looked at me, though, that I forced myself to squelch my smile. “May I introduce myself? I am John, son of Antony of Briar Farm.”
“Well met, John,” I said warmly, bobbing him a little curtsey.
The boy’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as he looked from me to his father. “Is she the princess?” he asked in an awed whisper.
Antony’s burst of laughter made me turn to glower at him. “No, my boy, but she thinks herself as good as.”
My hand rose to my chest as I gasped, affronted. “Antony! How could you say such a thing?” It wasn’t until I’d asked that I saw how his eyes laughed at me. Annoyed at being the butt of his joke, I turned away from him with a loud “hmph!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for me, but I sidestepped his grasp.
When he lunged for me, I wasn’t quick enough and found myself caught up in the web of his arms. “Let me go!” I demanded, but the moment his mouth came crashing down upon my protesting one, the little bit of fight that I’d possessed fled.
“Now, is that any way to speak to me in front of my son?” he murmured close to my ear so that only I could hear. “Especially to your lord and master?”
The words sent a shiver of pleasure throughout my body and I blushed to know that his son was watching the exchange between us. “I don’t know that I will ever call you that.”
“Perhaps not,” he allowed with a smile. “But you think it just the same. Ah,” he warned, holding up a finger as I opened my mouth to reply. “Before you sully your lips with a lie, think of the consequences, for I know you far better than you realize, Cecily. Far better.”
After delivering his warning, he released me and I dipped down in a low, elegant curtsey. “As you say, sire.”
Antony laughed out loud, clearly delighted by my jest. Just then, my gaze flitted over to his son, who was watching us with wide eyes. He was a handsome lad, even at such a young age, and strong, from the looks of him. I knew without having to ask that he made Antony proud. “Would you be so kind as to show me the house?” I asked, directing my words at the boy.
“A-ah, yes. Of course, m’lady,” he stammered, blushing as red as a beet after he’d done so. I kindly schooled my features to show no reaction. “As you wish. Right this way.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, following into line behind him. Antony and I exchanged amused glances over the back of his head before his hand found mine and we walked, hands clasped, to the place that was to be my new home.
It certainly wasn’t a castle—and what house cou
ld compare with the splendor of the Hohenzollern palace? Yet, it was far more vast than I’d expected, and I found it endearing and sweet. I complimented the cleanliness generously, much to my young host’s delight.
“I’ve been sweeping every day, m’lady,” John informed me, shyly ducking his head as he seemed prone to do.
“Why, how very dedicated of you,” I replied warmly, resisting the urge to pull him to me for a hug. He was too old for coddling, I supposed—though I couldn’t help but hope that he might indulge me once we’d known each other a bit longer. “Your father is blessed to have such a bright lad for a son.”
“Oh, that I am,” Antony agreed, ruffling the boy’s hair.
“Thank you, m’lady,” John mumbled, offering another bow before saying that he was going to see to the chores and excusing himself.
“What?” I demanded, taking in Antony’s arched brows.
“Nothing, just that John seems quite taken with you is all.”
“And why shouldn’t he be?” I asked with a saucy toss of my head. “Perhaps if his father had the same sense, we wouldn’t find ourselves at opposite ends so often.”
“Ah, but the reason we find ourselves at opposite ends, my dove, is your tendency to be disobedient.” He walked toward me in quick strides and caught my wrists, holding them firmly between us. “And do recall that his father had the good sense to know a valuable jewel when he found one. I did marry you, after all.”
Mollified, I allowed myself to be kissed, and it wasn’t long before I was raising my head so that my lips could fully enjoy his attention. Antony pulled away just as my quim began to hum, and long before I was ready.
“We have chores to attend to as well.”
“Chores? But we’ve only just gotten here!”
“Yes, that’s the life of a farmer, I’m afraid. And, sadly, as you’ll come to know, the life of his wife. Now, I think it is time you learn to make bread.”
Instantly, a memory came rushing back to me and I nibbled my bottom lip before I found the courage to ask. “Sarah… your wife. She… she is John’s mother?”
“Yes,” he answered, hefting a flour sack onto the counter.
“And… you never did tell me… how did she die?”
“She gave birth to a little girl,” he said without preamble. “She died of childbed fever, and the child a few days after her.”
“Oh,” I gasped, the words hitting me like a blow. “I’m so sorry.”
“I am too,” he admitted frankly, avoiding my gaze. “John has gone almost three years without a mother. I should have told you about him—especially after you were so forthright about your own condition.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Antony looked up, staring me in the eye at last. “I suppose it’s because I’d fallen a little bit in love with you even then, and I feared if I told you… it was a foolish thing to do.”
“Mayhap,” I agreed, moving toward him. When I reached him, I put my hands on both sides of his face and looked deeply into his gray eyes. “But I assure you, I am happy to have married you. God willing, he will come to love me, in time.”
Antony’s smile stretched widely over his face. “I cannot see how he could not, my lady.”
* * *
Baking bread did not turn out to be nearly as simple as I’d always assumed. By the time we’d finished, there was only one decent loaf, although we’d made five and I was covered head-to-toe in flour and had an aching back and sore elbows to boast of as well.
John had finished his chores long before we had finished and had come in to sit and watch. He never made one comment, though I sensed his amusement, particularly when I was at my most frustrated.
“Perhaps the boy can learn to bake,” I suggested when I was at my breaking point. I’d looked pitifully at Antony, but he had only chuckled.
“You’re supposed to knead it,” the lad had supplied helpfully from the stool he sat on.
I’d turned to Antony, my hands spread wide as if to say, you see?
“Though I’m certain he won’t mind helping you when he can, I’m afraid his chores keep him much too busy. This is something you’re going to have to learn sooner or later, my wife.”
I put every ounce of energy, every bit of stubbornness I possessed, into learning and at the end of it, all I had to show for it was one good loaf of bread. But every time I looked at what I’d made—John and Antony both agreed it looked nearly as good as what they’d seen in the baker’s shop in town—I felt such a surge of pride as I’d never known before.
“I think it would be nice if you took half of this over to the neighbor’s wife,” my husband mentioned casually.
“What?” I asked sharply, nearly glowering at him. “I put all that effort into making it and now you want to give it away? I thought you said that you liked the look of it! Why, if that’s all it means to you, feed it to the pigs for all I care!”
Antony’s stern gaze pulled me upright and made me still my tongue before I did any more damage. I could tell by the hard set of his jaw that he was not happy with me and felt doubly embarrassed when I realized how rashly I’d spoken in front of John. “I was not asking because I don’t like it, Cecily,” he answered in the cool, level tone that belied his irritation. “I think it would be a neighborly thing to do, and I thought that since you are newly moved here, you would care to make a friend.”
“Yes, well, as you pointed out I am the one new here. If anyone should be bringing bread to anyone, shouldn’t she come to me?” Though I spoke quieter, without as much rancor, I could see that Antony still was displeased. “I don’t have anything to wear,” I offered weakly before he could scold me in front of his son.
His eyes looked me up and down again before he nodded. “Very well, I’m sure that I have a gown or two that will suit until we can get you your own things.”
I glanced at John and back to Antony, knowing that I was helplessly trapped. “Very well,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster.
“My boy, fetch my saddlebag, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” John said, moments before he scurried to do his father’s bidding.
I knew that my husband was not well pleased with me, and the feeling was mutual, but the moment he turned those stern eyes on me, I wilted. “Antony…”
“Come, I’ll show you the dresses and you can take your pick.”
Knowing I had no other choice, I followed behind as Antony led me into the room that must have been his late wife’s.
“Most of her things were donated,” he explained. “But we kept a very few of her favorite gowns.” He opened the wardrobe doors, then turned in my direction, scrutinizing me. “You’re more fair, but as I said, these should serve for now.”
“Thank you,” I murmured humbly. I knew it couldn’t be easy on him, seeing me in his dead wife’s gowns, yet he was offering them with a free heart to make me more comfortable.
“Choose what you like and I’ll be back in a moment to help you dress.”
Antony departed quickly and in his absence I took a look around the room. It was very well-kept, though sparsely furnished. There was a simple wooden chair by the window, a small bed piled high with homemade quilts, and a pretty basin on top of the wardrobe. Once upon a time, such a room would have made me turn my nose up, but knowing that these things had belonged to Antony’s wife, to John’s mother, made me see them in a different light.
I walked to the open wardrobe and looked inside, seeing three homespun gowns. I reached a hand inside, gently fingering the soft cloth. One was a pale yellow, one a serviceable brown, and lastly a deep burgundy calico that made me pause.
“I thought you’d pick that one.”
I spun around, surprised to find Antony behind me, watching. “Oh, I didn’t hear you.”
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you, my lady.”
Yet, I was more startled still when he stepped into the room and I saw that he held the strap he’d bought tightly in his
left hand. “Antony, please,” I pleaded, my eyes searching his face for a sign that his intentions might be different from what I thought. If anything, the hard set of his jaw and the firm line of his mouth told me that my suspicions were correct. “Please, what if John was to overhear?”
“No need to worry yourself, my dear,” he replied drily. “I’ve sent him out to feed the animals and milk the cow. We’ll be long finished by the time he gets finished.”
“Antony, I’m sorry. I…”
“Yes?”
“I… I don’t know, I suppose I should have thought before getting upset.”
“You suppose?”
“I should have,” I amended. “And I’m very, very sorry. Please, there really isn’t any need to… use that.”
“Who decides if there is a need, Cecily?”
His husky voice was authoritative and even though I knew I was in danger of being chastised, I couldn’t help but feel weak in the knees at the sound of it. “You do, sir.”
“That’s right, my dove. And I’m afraid you’ve earned yourself a spanking.”
“Please, Antony—”
“Save the rest of your apologies for when the punishment is over. I’m going to help you remove your gown.”
I was biting down on my lower lip as Antony approached me. He stopped right in front of me, crossed his arms against his chest, and waited, his eyes pinning me where I stood.
My heart was beating hard in my chest. I hated knowing that he was angry with me, and hated even more than I deserved his wrath. “Forgive me,” I tried again. “I never should have spoken to you so, especially in front of your son.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed. When he said nothing further, I knew that he was still waiting for me.
Realizing that no matter what I said or did there would be no respite, I turned around and waited. In moments his hands were at the back of my gown, his fingers nimbly undoing each of the buttons. When the last one had been undone, the gown fell to the floor and was quickly followed by my shift. Antony offered me a hand to help me step out of the puddle of fabric.
The Conquered Brides Collection Page 56
