“No … yes … no, my lord.”
This time he forced himself not to laugh. “Well, which is it?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” she murmured, fingering the soft velvet of the tunic she wore.
Lynx knew he would have to breach the barrier of formality that existed between them. “Jane,” he deliberately used her name, “let’s try to be comfortable with each other. All of this formality is getting us nowhere.” He rose to his feet and moved across the chamber to pour them wine. He saw immediately from its pale color that it was only watered wine, too diluted to warm the blood. Lynx headed for the stairs that led up to his own chambers. “I’ll get us some wine.”
While Lynx was upstairs he took the opportunity to divest himself of his clothes. He shrugged into his black velvet bedrobe to cover his nakedness and took up a flagon of wine. He hoped one would be enough. Lynx also hoped Jane would take the opportunity to undress and put on her own bedrobe, but when he came down the stairs, he found her exactly as he had left her.
As he poured them each a goblet of the red wine, he realized she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. The onus rested squarely on him. Perhaps she wasn’t simply innocent, perhaps she was woefully ignorant on top of everything else. He took the wine to the fire and handed her the goblet. He watched her covertly as she tentatively took a sip. It was obvious she had as little experience with wine as she had with men. It appeared he would have to teach her everything.
“Like this. Take a mouthful and roll it about your tongue to savor the taste.” He swallowed and watched as she imitated him. She repeated the action, then quaffed deeply, half draining the cup. Her eyes became bright as an idea suddenly occurred to her. She must ask him to teach her how to play chess. She would keep filling his goblet until he passed out, as she had seen her brothers do upon festive occasions.
“Now I’m hot,” she announced.
Lynx nodded. “The wine warms your blood from the inside, just as the fire warms you from the outside.”
She rose and moved away from the fire. “Would you teach me how to play chess, my lord?”
He realized that she was avoiding the intimacy that must inevitably happen between them, and reluctantly decided to give her a little more time. “You cannot learn an intricate game like chess in one night, but we can begin the first lesson.” Lynx de Warenne curbed the impatience that had started to build inside him. He wanted to give her a lesson all right, but it had nothing to do with chess.
They sat down facing each other with the small games table between them. The chess pieces were tall and beautifully carved from ivory. He picked one up and handed it to her. Their fingers touched and she drew away as if he had burned her. “That is the king, the most important piece on the board. He outranks everyone.”
As she gazed down at the tall figure in her hand, she realized he could be speaking of his own position here at Dumfries.
“Each player has sixteen pieces to move; eight principal pieces consisting of a king, queen, two bishops, two knights, and two—”
“Castles,” Jane said, reaching out a finger to trace the carved turrets.
“The castles are called rooks. The other eight pieces are pawns.”
That is what I am, a pawn! Nervously, she rolled the king between her palms.
As Lynx watched her hands manipulate the king, he felt himself growing hard. He cleared his throat. “You win by, er, checkmating your opponent’s king.” He picked up his goblet and drained its contents.
“Let me get you more wine, my lord,” Jane said breathlessly.
“Thank you.” Lynx reached over and removed the tall king her fingers were playing with before he became further aroused. As he gazed across at her, the chess lesson forgotten, he knew he needed some answers before he proceeded, and the questions could not be formal and polite; they could only be blunt.
“Jane, do you know what happens between a male and a female?”
“Yes. I have seen the animals.”
“Animals?” he echoed.
“I have seen the animals mate.”
Splendor of God, was she talking about a rutting ram or a rampant stallion? There were times, he admitted, when the sex act was like that between a man and a woman, if you were lucky, but it certainly wasn’t what he had in mind for tonight. He passed a hand over his eyes, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. “Go and put on your bedgown, then we’ll talk.”
Jane looked at his goblet and wished he would drain it again. How much wine would it take to make him fall asleep? He was less formal and stiffly polite than he had been. Perhaps she had made a mistake. Perhaps the wine would induce him to carry out the consummation sooner rather than later. Already his attitude was far less proper. Needing to put some distance between them, Jane went into the bedchamber.
She looked at the white silk jupon lying across her pillow. This must be what he’d meant by bedgown, but she didn’t know how she was ever going to let him see her in such a scandalous garment. Jane tried to swallow her dismay. She had made her pledge to give herself to the lynx and if the silk garment was what she was expected to wear as his lady, then she had little choice. She ignored a tiny voice from within that told her she had never worn anything as fine as silk. Would it feel as beautiful as it looked?
She removed the wreath of flowers from her head, unfastened the heavy silver chain, and lifted off the purple velvet tunic. She quickly slipped the white silk jupon over her head to cover her naked breasts and pulled it down over her bare bottom. Timidly, she glanced into the mirror. The dark woolen stockings could be seen through the side slits in the jupon and they looked hideous!
Jane’s hopes plummeted. She did not want to look hideous in the eyes of this arrogant, powerful lord; Jane desperately wanted to look attractive for some strange reason she could not fathom. She peeled the woolen stockings from her legs, folded them on top of the velvet tunic, and picked up the wreath. The hawthorn blossoms looked wilted, but Jane dutifully fitted it back onto the crown of her hair. She stood for a moment, loathe to leave the privacy of the bedchamber, until her eyes fell on the high, wide bed. It represented such a threat to her, she knew she must put as much distance as she could between the bed and herself.
Lynx stared in disbelief as the small figure appeared in the archway. What in the name of God was the girl wearing? If he wasn’t mistaken, it was one of his silk jupons. It was then that it dawned on him she had no bedgown and this must be the handiwork of Thomas, trying to improvise.
His mouth went dry as she walked across the room toward him. As she passed in front of the fire, her body was outlined through the fine silk, displaying her long legs and her lush breasts. Lynx picked up his wine and drained it, then he handed Jane her half-empty goblet and watched her do the same. Lord have mercy upon him; how would he curb the rampant desire he was feeling?
Lynx de Warenne rose to his feet, looming above her, dwarfing her. “Jane, do you know what a man looks like; how he is fashioned?”
“Not a naked man, my lord.” Suddenly, inexplicably she was wildly curious.
He took a deep breath. “Then it is high time that you learned.” He sat down in the chair and lifted her onto his lap.
Jane sat perched on his knees, which were covered by his black velvet bedrobe. She looked at him expectantly, both dreading and desiring him to make the first move. He removed the wreath from her head and combed his fingers through her long, red hair. When he brought a handful to his face to inhale its scent, she gasped, expecting his tongue to come out and lick her cheek as the lynx had done in the forest. When it did not happen, she gazed into his green eyes, then dropped her gaze to his beautiful mouth. Surely that was relief she felt, not longing.
As Jane sat unmoving, Lynx prompted, “Are you not curious?”
“Yes, my lord,” she admitted innocently.
“Then I suggest you explore me.”
She looked into his eyes to see if he meant it. He did. Slowly, her hand came up to his chest to peel
back the black velvet. His chest was covered by a thick pelt as tawny as his long mane of hair. Jane wondered if he realized the startling contrast the black velvet made against his bronzed skin and tawny hair, and suddenly, she knew that he did. That was why he had deliberately chosen it.
Delicately, she raised her bottom and pulled the bedrobe from beneath her. He was now divided in half down the center of his body. One half was soft black velvet, the other smooth bronze skin. One half was soberly clothed, the other blatantly bared. Yet even more startling was the feel of his thigh beneath her bottom, with only the thin layer of silk separating their naked flesh.
She tried to fight the feeling of excitement that rose up inside her, but it was so strong she felt as if she were being carried along on a tidal wave. As her fingers unerringly reached to lift the other half of his robe, Lynx once more began to harden. She looked down with wide-eyed curiosity as his shaft became fully erect.
Jane knew enough about male animals to know this happened before they mated, but his size surprised her. “Do all men grow this big?” she asked in wonder.
Lynx felt his balls tighten. He had never considered the question. “More or less, I suppose.”
A ghost of a dimple appeared beside her mouth, then it vanished. “I think more, rather than less, my lord.”
Lynx shrugged out of the bedrobe. “Are you warm enough now?”
“Oh yes; actually I’m overheated,” she admitted breathlessly.
His shaft pulsed and he cautioned himself to go slow. Lynx took her hand and brought it to his groin. After a moment he placed her fingers around his cock and moved them slowly up and down. “Rapid movement creates friction,” he explained swallowing hard. “And both of our bodies produce a natural lubrication to ease entrance into your—” he caught back the word he was going to use and substituted, “body.”
As she listened solemnly, it pleased him greatly that he detected neither repulsion nor dread for the physical act he was leading up to. He wondered briefly if she really was virgin. He swallowed the question; there was a surer way of discovering if she was untouched than asking. Some women were consummate liars.
Lynx slipped his hand into the open side of the silk jupon to touch her hip, then moved it down between her legs. When he came into contact with the soft curls covering her mons he said, “Open for me, Jane.”
No! Never! her mind cried, but slowly, sensually, her thighs yielded to his questing hand.
He saw her blush as she opened for him and heard her gasp as he slid a finger up inside her. She was unbelievably small and tight, unquestionably virgin, and for her sake Lynx almost wished it were otherwise. With his other hand he stroked her beautiful hair. “Jane, you do realize there will be pain the first time?”
“When you mount me, yes.”
Lynx felt his phallus jerk, then he felt Jane contract on his finger and his cock reacted shamelessly. “I’ll try not to hurt you,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
Jane could not recall ever having seen a gentle mating. The male ravaged; the female submitted. “Do you feel my finger?” “Oh yes,” she murmured breathlessly. “Does it hurt?” “No, my lord.”
“Your sheath is very tight—it will have to stretch to accommodate me. It will be infinitely easier on you if you do not resist me,” he cautioned. “Will you cooperate, Jane?”
She licked dry lips and whispered, “I’ll try, my lord.”
He withdrew his finger from her tight sheath and brushed aside the front panel of silk so that she was exposed from the waist down. The sight of her red-gold curls made his cock jut straight up. With his hands on her waist, Lynx lifted her. “Straddle me,” he whispered.
As Jane opened her thighs and slid her knees on either side of his hips, Lynx forgot all about the handfasting being a business arrangement. He was hell-bent on seduction as desire and longing rose up savagely to claim her virginity.
Lynx positioned the tip of his phallus on her pink cleft, held her eyes with his, then slowly surged up inside her. He stopped when he gauged he was a little less than halfway inside her, to allow her to get used to the new sensation. His hands stroked her back, coaxing her lovely young body to yield to him fully.
Jane was surprised that she felt no pain. She felt full of him, full to bursting, but it did not really hurt. She wanted to scream, but it was from excitement at what the lynx was doing to her.
“Take a deep breath; try to relax,” he murmured.
She thought she might drown in the depths of his green eyes.
His hands slid down from her waist to grasp her hips. Then he drew her down swiftly and firmly while at the same time he thrust upward ruthlessly, piercing the impediment that guarded her innocence.
A cry tore from Jane’s throat before she could swallow it.
Lynx pulled her against him. “Hush, it’s done,” he soothed. He could not bear the thought of hurting her further and reluctantly decided to withdraw for a moment. Stroking her hair with his big hand, he gently lifted her off his lethal weapon. The white silk garment she wore was now stained with bright drops of blood.
He gave her a minute to recover. “You were very brave. How do you feel?”
“Tender … I ache a little. Do you hurt, my lord?”
“Nay.” He was touched at her concern for him. “Well, perhaps I ache a little too.”
She slipped her small hand down to rub his shaft and Lynx almost came out of his skin.
“I thought it would take much longer,” she confided, wishing it had not ended so soon.
It dawned on him that she was still in ignorance. “We haven’t completed coitus yet.” By the look she gave him he knew that she did not understand his meaning, so he added, “I think we’ll be far more comfortable in bed.”
Lynx set her feet to the floor and took her hand to lead the way. At the archway, in full view of the bed, he felt Jane’s slight hesitation. Overruling her reluctance, he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way.
Jane was secretly pleased that he gave her no choice. The high, wide bed was an experience she longed to sample, but the contemplation of such a thing overwhelmed her. Now it was about to happen, the knowledge that the lynx would share the intimacy of the bed, lying beside her naked, sent a thrill running through her that she could hardly contain. When he pulled down the cover and slipped her onto the snowy sheet, Jane almost screamed with excitement. Her eyes swept over his naked splendor as he stood poised, then she watched him climb onto the bed and stretch his length beside her.
Lynx made no effort to cover them, but rolled toward Jane, resting on one elbow. “Do you still ache?” he asked with concern.
Jane nodded, unable to speak because of his closeness. He had not yet touched her, but she knew he was going to and all her senses were heightened. She held her breath as he reached out his hand and slipped it beneath the silk jupon. When he touched her mons a great shudder ran through her body. Then his big hand covered her pubic bone, cupping her and pressing down firmly. The heat from his touch seeped into her body.
“Breathe, Jane,” he murmured, and with a great gasp she took in air then let it out along with all her body’s stiff resistance. She had never been aware of her mons before tonight, now it felt sensitive, warm, alive. The heat and pressure of his powerful hand was so delicious she felt as if her core were melting. Jane didn’t think anything could feel more exquisite. She was wrong. When he began to rub the heel of his hand slowly across her pubic bone, she closed her eyes and moaned softly with pure pleasure. When she opened her eyes she saw that Lynx had grown fully erect in a heartbeat.
For her sake, Lynx didn’t wish to draw it out this first time. There was no need to tamp down his desire to make it last. His knowing hands had worked their magic so that Jane was not in great discomfort, but she could be by the time he was done. It would be unkind to spend an hour arousing her body, then leave her unsatisfied. He doubted it was possible for a virgin to be orgasmic her first time.
Pur
posely leaving her breasts covered by the silk, he played with them through the sleek, slippery material. He rose up on his knees, straddling her thighs, then reached down to position his jutting erection against her cleft. To tear her hymen, Lynx had used a brutal thrust, this time, however, he entered her with care. He pushed inside her gently, an inch at a time, until he was seated to the hilt, then he forced himself to remain still so that she might get used to the fullness. Lynx had never experienced a woman so tight and scalding hot in his life. When he began to move, he knew it would not take many thrusts before he spent.
When Lynx covered her, Jane put her hands up against his chest in a defensive gesture, but she realized immediately she might as well push against the stone walls of the castle. As he slid slowly into her, she held her breath, afraid he would stretch her beyond her endurance. When at last he stopped and held himself motionless, she was shocked at how much she enjoyed the feel of him inside her. Jane took a deep breath and yielded herself to him, welcoming his great power.
Knowing she held Lord de Warenne inside her filled her with awe. His massive chest brushed against her cheek and she could hear the thud of his heart. Then he began to move against her and she was enveloped in his male scent. Jane felt empowered. Lynx de Warenne was the most magnificent man she had ever encountered and he had chosen her for his mate. It gave her a new feeling of confidence. Suddenly, she felt him stiffen, heard him gasp, then his body arched as his white-hot seed poured into her.
It was the most cataclysmic thing that had ever happened to her, and yet she yearned for more. She gazed hungrily at his mouth, longing for him to lick her from neck to knees. She wanted to put her mouth on his body and learn the taste of it. Her breasts and belly and lips ached and quivered for his touch. It took a long time for the fire in her blood to cool. Because of the strangeness of the bed and because she was unused to lying with another, it was a long time before Jane slept. But she did drift off to the edge of sleep, where thoughts became entangled with wishes and dreams. How strange that he had not kissed her. The corners of her mouth lifted. It was just as well. If his lips had touched hers, she would have devoured him.
A Year & a Day Page 12
