World of De Wolfe Pack_The Big Bad De Wolfe

by Barbara Devlin

  _________________

  CHAPTER FOUR

  August yielded to September with a vicious tempest, and the leaves changed colors, as Arsenius marked his first sennight as the new lord of Bellesea. After remaining at Wolfe’s Lair for Titus’s wedding, Arsenius and Senara, along with the Arscotts, departed for the long, arduous, but uneventful journey to Penryn, in Cornwall. Dotted with lush green moors bordered by rocky sea cliffs, with a river cutting through the town, and tall hedges framing the roads, the resplendent Cornish countryside rivaled that of Braewood Castle, his childhood home. But his new residence was anything but excessive.

  Conservative in structure, the once grand estate featured a two-story manor house built of red sandstone, with frieze carved parapets and accents composed of the striking black rock unique to the area. Although the house had been fitted with mullioned windows, the roof and several fireplaces were in need of repair, the tapestries were worn and threadbare, providing little in the way of warmth, and food and supplies had been pilfered in Lord Arscott’s absence, thus Arsenius’s first task was to replenish the stores.

  “You ordered prime cuts of beef, Senara?” Sitting in the solar, Ryol perused the account ledger and frowned. “We can subsist on lesser pieces at a substantial savings.”

  “I asked her to purchase the quality meats, as it is what I prefer.” Arsenius studied his bride and admired the curve of her neck. Despite sharing a bed since their wedding, they had yet to consummate their vows, but he intended to change that—soon, before he lost his wits. “And I hired a crew to restore the roof, else we may not survive the winter.”

  “Mayhap I should delay the additional goods, if economy is a concern.” Stunning in her kirtle and matching gown of rich burgundy, which emphasized her creamy flesh, his tempting wife inclined her head and met his gaze, something she did regularly, of late. He considered it a positive sign, in that she no longer shied from his company. Indeed, she sought his opinion on matters of money and his advice on the family business. “What would you suggest, my lord?”

  “My dear, at the risk of sounding like a boaster, thither is no threat to our fortune.” Perchance, he imagined it, but he suspected she wanted him as he wanted her, as he often caught her staring at him, when she thought him unaware. “Buy what we need, and add a new quilt and bedclothes to your list, that you might sleep in comfort with warm feet.”

  “Aye, my lord.” Her answering smile conveyed she knew just what he referenced, as only that morning she thrust her cold toes to the backs of his legs, and his resulting lurch landed him on the floor. “Should I procure an extra pillow, to soothe aching muscles?”

  “That is not necessary, as I believe I have a cure to heal what ails me.” In his mind, he envisioned her as she looked last night, when she stood before the hearth, oblivious to the fact that the blaze cast a brilliant outline of her figure beneath her thin chemise. “Are we prepared to meet the local farmers?”

  “Aye.” Ryol nodded, as the two men had formed what could best be described as a tentative friendship, but Arsenius promised to improve on the relationship. “I think it provident to gather our community and introduce you as the caretaker for our industry. Given your benevolence toward my family, it is the least I can do to ease the transition.”

  “I am grateful for your assistance, as the difficult circumstances preceding my endowment of Bellesea no doubt fostered hard feelings, and I do not blame the Cornish.” In advance of the meeting, Arsenius collected his papers. “In fact, I have a plan that might ease the tax burden, but I can make no promises, and I will explain, in detail, later.”

  “You would do that?” With an expression of shock, Senara clutched her throat, but it was something powerful in her stare that gave him pause. Reaching through the space between them, some magical force enfolded him in an invisible embrace. “You would intervene on our behalf?”

  “Of course.” Arsenius rose from his chair and walked to his bride. “The inhabitants of this estate are my charge, a responsibility I take seriously. While I am His Majesty’s loyal servant, I understand the horrendous conditions caused by the unfair tariffs, and I would mitigate the situation, if possible. But I shall employ diplomacy.”

  “You are wonderful.” Unshed tears welled in her blue eyes, as she cupped his cheek and covered his mouth with hers.

  It was not an aggressive display of affection, as she brushed her tender lips to his, yet did not tease his tongue, but the impact struck him as a lethal blow from his cousin Titus’s lance during a competitive tournament. Never had Arsenius enjoyed a more intoxicating kiss.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord.” The steward knocked on the oak panel, which sat ajar. “Your guests have arrived.”

  “I should see to the refreshments.” Despite her declaration, Senara hugged him about the waist, and he cradled her head. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “But I have managed naught, yet, my lady.” Oh, yes. He would take her. No more delays. No more mornings spent in self-indulgence behind the large gorse bush at the north corner of the house.

  “Still, I thank you.” Perched on tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his with a loud smack, shrieked, and ran from the solar.

  In that moment, Arsenius noted his father-in-law’s countenance of surprise. “She is my wife.”

  “I would say so.” Ryol arched his brows. “As never have I seen my daughter so emotional or demonstrative.”

  “Shall we join the assembly?” In uncharacteristic discomfit, Arsenius shuffled his feet. “I would not make them wait.”

  A large group of Cornish farmers occupied several tables in the great hall, and a murmur heralded Arsenius’s presence. Various glances of suspicion and contempt trailed his every move, as their loss was his gain, but he took no offense. Instead, he resolved to reassure the injured parties and form a mutually beneficial agreement.

  “Gentlemen, I am honored that you accepted my invitation.” As he had seen his father do on several occasions, Arsenius made the rounds and shook hands with each visitor, out of respect. “Welcome to Bellesea.”

  That was the moment for which he had been born and bred, the reason Papa required Arsenius to attend the regular agricultural reviews, and why he endured so many lectures on the merits of prudent negotiations. Everything culminated in that single fragment in time, when conflict tested his experience and expertise. Indeed, a leader required more than the skills of a warrior.

  And so Arsenius launched into his rehearsed speech, in a measured tone, which never wavered, even when several men shouted contradictions. Whither they displayed anger, he remained composed. Whither they pounded their fists to the table, he sat relaxed and untroubled. In good spirit, he met every attempt to engage in conflict with imperturbable aplomb, and his plan worked.

  Bereft of the dudgeon that drove them to London, and spent of the ensuing insult inspired by the punishment for their crimes against the Crown, the farmers quieted. That was when Senara entered the fray, with an army of servants bearing pitchers of ale, trenchers of roasted ham, cheese, and bread, along with an enticing array of sweetmeats.

  With full bellies, the farmers presented a far more cooperative crowd, and that is when Arsenius made his stand. “In light of His Majesty’s appointment, I am bound to the people of Penryn, as their guardian. As such, my first order of business is to contact the King and appeal for the royal forbearance. Bellesea is the official producer of Sire’s clotted cream, and naught compares to it, else you would have been supplanted by now.”

  “That is because the process is a great secret known only to the Arscotts.” A particularly vocal gentleman snickered.

  “And those of us in possession of parts of that information will take it to our graves,” another elderly statesman added.

  “I respect your position, and I have made no demands whither the industry is concerned.” Arsenius reflected on his notes. “My primary focus is in improving the living conditions at Bellesea, including the construction of several homes, repairs to those
structures that require only minor renovations, and initiating labor-saving enterprises intended to increase our combined yield.”

  Whispers filtered through the throng, interspersed with occasional questions.

  “Wherefore would you do that?”

  “What do you want in return?”

  “How much will that cost us?”

  “My friends, and I hope I can call you thus, as I am you ally, the answer is simple.” Arsenius stood and splayed wide his arms. “We are stronger, together.”

  When the farmers took their leave, after consuming profuse amounts of ale, a spirit of camaraderie marked their exit. At his side, Senara assumed her role as lady of the manor, having soothed any lingering doubts by reminding the skeptics that Bellesea was still their community.

  “Well that was an exercise in triumph, as you extended charity without robbing them of their dignity.” His bride gazed upon him with unveiled admiration, and he cursed the unusual burn of a blush in his cheeks. “Are you busy this afternoon?”

  “My lady wife, I am never too busy for you.” She bounced with uncontainable excitement, and he decided he enjoyed pleasing her. “What have you in mind?”

  Favoring him with a quick kiss, Senara twined her fingers with his. “Thither is something I wish to show you.”

  ~

  Heeling the flanks of her chestnut mare, Senara set a blazing pace, leaving Arsenius in her wake. Charging north from the main house, she soared past the rear gate and onto the moors. With a light heart, she navigated the verge and followed the path that traced the edge of the sea cliffs.

  “Whither are you taking me?” Arsenius drew beside her.

  “You will see.” She flicked the reins.

  To the casual visitor, the trail appeared naught more than a means to tour the vast rugged landscape of Cornwall. In reality, when the dirt lane narrowed and ended amid a cluster of gorse bushes, she veered inland, past a rocky outcrop, whereupon she traversed another walk.

  In the valley below, two large buildings and a smaller one sat in the uninhabited wilds of the Cornish countryside, with only the grazing dairy cattle for company. At least, at first glance. But upon careful inspection, even the disinterested would note the well maintained, heavily traveled road leading from the general direction of Penryn.

  “Is this what I think it is?” Arsenius arched a brow.

  “Aye.” Near the primary structure, she drew to a halt and slid from the saddle. “Given your unfailing support, I cannot, in good faith, withhold secrets from you.”

  “So you trust me with the operation that serves as the sole source of income for Bellesea?” After descending his destrier, her husband took her hand in his, and she squeezed his fingers.

  “In truth, I trust you with my life.” And no one was more surprised than Senara by that development. “Nay, I did not always feel that way, as I considered you the enemy. But in the time since our marriage, you have been naught but a gentleman and protector. Still, it is your treatment of my people—”

  “Our people,” he corrected.

  “You are quite right, my lord.” His proprietary demeanor thrilled her to her toes. “It is your treatment of our people that affirms my confidence in you.” She opened the door, and they stepped inside the warehouse. “Had you seized my home as an arrogant conqueror looks on the spoils of war, I would have hated you. Instead, you defend my family, you tend the needs of the less fortunate, and you deal honestly and fairly with the farmers, thus I fear you not.”

  “Senara, I am so glad to hear you say it, as I am no threat to you.” The earnestness of his expression further bolstered her position, and she led him to a chamber filled with row upon row of shelving. “Thither are a great many things I would share with you, if you let me.”

  “I welcome any overture and would meet your proposal, measure for measure, starting hither.” Reaching up, she tamed a wayward lock of his hair and patted his cheek. “According to my family history, our method for creating clotted cream was learned from Phoenician traders visiting Cornwall some thousand years ago, and in that time no one has discovered our process or matched our quality. Needless to say, we take great pride in our wares.”

  “Very wise strategy, and I do not doubt you.” Arsenius bent and peered down the aisle. “What is in the pans?”

  “These shallow trays hold fresh milk, and it must be fresh, which is left to rise, from dusk until dawn in the summer, and sunrise to sunrise in winter,” she explained. “If you will follow me.”

  “So that is why you contract with so many dairy farmers.” In the heating chamber, he surveyed the massive store of large pots. “And what are these for?”

  “After workers collect the whole cream, it is heated to a specific thickness, which every Arscott learns to gauge, and I will teach you, and then it is cooled overnight. What remains is the finest Cornish clotted cream, favored by His Majesty.”

  “And that is it?” Glancing from left to right, he shook his head. “So simple, yet who would have thought of it?”

  “It is a source of great pride.” In the final section, whither stacks of small containers filled the area, she snared a receptacle, untied the twine, removed the cloth cover, and scooped the confection with a finger, that she might offer her husband a sample.

  Smiling, Arsenius bent his head and licked clean her flesh, and she clenched her gut. “Delicious.” He hummed his appreciation. “And the cream is not so bad, either.”

  To her surprise, he retrieved another taste but smeared the decadent indulgence across her lips, before claiming a searing kiss that curled her toes. Holding tight to her man, Senara struggled to draw breath, as he mingled his tongue with hers, and just when she feared she might swoon, he shifted and broke the connection.

  Gasping for air, she struggled with a strange emptiness and an accompanying chill that left her shivering, and she sought solace whither she knew she would find it—in his arms. With something between a sob and a sigh, she flung herself at him, but her knees buckled when he caressed her bottom through her gown and kirtle.

  If the preceding kiss had been all consuming, the ensuing one rendered her witless, as a powerful hunger blossomed in her belly, burning in her veins, ravaging her senses, but she knew not how to satisfy the craving. When he released her, she stumbled back and hugged herself.

  “What is wrong, Senara?” Arsenius wiped his face and adjusted his doublet. “Did I frighten you?”

  “No.” She clawed at the neckline of her gown, which seemed to choke her. “I ache, but I know not wherefore I am afflicted.”

  “Oh, sweetheart.” He chuckled and pulled her into his steadfast embrace, and she clung to him. “Let us return to Bellesea, whereupon we shall dine with the family, as is our routine, but do not eat too much. And you will instruct the housekeeper to have a repast of wine, cheese, dried beef, and bread delivered to our solar before we retire.”

  “Wherefore?” Puzzled by his odd request, she wriggled to meet his gaze, and the heat of his stare only increased her torment.

  “Because tonight we consummate our vows.”

  _________________

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thither were moments in life when Arsenius committed every detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant, to memory, as he would forget naught about such special events. As Senara stood before the hearth, garbed only in a sheer robe, with her lush brown locks draped about her shoulders, naught escaped his attention, and he savored the occasion as a fine wine.

  “Are you frightened?” He fidgeted with the loose tie of his garment and reminded himself not to talk too much.

  “Nay, but if I discover this is a dream, I should be furious.” She squeezed together her thighs, and he gritted his teeth. “Is this a dream?”

  “It is possible, as you are a vision.” Standing, he flicked his wrist and prayed for patience. “Come hither, my dear.” Without hesitation, she obeyed his command. Mama, god bless her, had been right and true in her counsel, as thither was no alarm in
Senara’s visage. “Take off your robe, and turn for me.”

  Again, his bride abided his request with nary a protest, and he looked his fill, making no attempt to conceal his regard. Indeed, he was a fortunate man. Given what he knew of his lady, had he rushed the consummation, it would have been a battle to end all battles, and he may not have won.

  Favoring him with a shy smile, she squared her shoulders. “Prithee, my lord, touch me, as I am cold and in want of your incomparable warmth.”

  That pedestrian pronouncement almost waylaid his plans, as he wanted naught more than to make love to her. But that evening was not for him. Summoning the finesse that had served him well, he cupped a breast, and with his thumb he teased her nipple, until it hardened to a pebble, inasmuch to divert her while he regained control. “Still chilled?”

  She mouthed, No.

  As he bared himself in similar fashion, she held high her head, ignoring the most obvious difference in their anatomy, the erect length of which paid homage to her beauty in spectacular form. To ease her distress, he brought her palms to rest on his chest.

  “Your skin is so hot, like the fires in the cooking room.” She splayed her fingers and teased the crisp hair sprinkled about his flesh. “Will you not kiss me?”

  “Not yet, else this will be over before we begin.” He chuckled, as her furrowed brow betrayed her confusion. “Lay on the bed, my dear.”

  “All right.” To her credit, she stretched across the quilt and closed her eyes.

  “Look at me, Senara.” He perched on the edge of the mattress. As he dragged the backs of his knuckles along her supple curves in a series of strokes, he gauged her demeanor. “I want you to watch everything I do, so thither are no surprises. And I would have you know thither is no shame in our behavior, as we are married, and our bodies are made to be joined.”

  Never in his life had he drawn out the experience, had he lingered over the feminine landscape. Rather, he located his mark, mounted her however convenient, gained his pleasure, and compensated the accommodating party, regardless of whether or not she found release.