by Shay Savage
I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his neck.
“I am trying, my…Branford,” I told him. He pulled me away from his skin and kissed me softly. I placed my hands on his shoulders, and I gripped the chainmail shirt he wore over the leather armor covering his body. I wondered again if I was dreaming, but if so, it was a dream made of the most real sensations.
“I have missed you so much,” he whispered against the flesh at my neck. He opened his mouth and tasted my skin. His hot breath covered my face as his hands covered my body. “You smell so good…like the lavender bushes in the garden. Please…Alexandra…I need you.”
“Yes,” I said with a nod, and his hands grasped the hem of my nightdress, ridding me of it quickly. I heard the clink of his mail shirt as he dropped it off the side of the bed, and a moment later felt him pressed close against me, the warmth of his skin enveloping me as his mouth crashed to mine. He slid his hand down my arm, over my waist, and to my leg before he brought his fingers around to the inside of my thigh. He nudged my legs apart, and his fingers searched and discovered.
Branford drew the moisture from my body with his fingers, using it to coat me between my legs and up to the tiny spot he knew so well. His fingers circled it, moistening the flesh before they reached back inside of me, and his thumb pressed and rubbed. He sucked gently at my neck as his fingers pumped inside of me, curling back suddenly as he pressed again with his thumb.
“Branford! Branford!”
My body shuddered and clamped down on his fingers. I heard his own gasp as I reached out and wrapped my fingers around his arm. My head thrashed from side to side as he kept up his steady rhythm until I fell apart completely. His kisses trailed from below my ear, down my neck, and back up again.
Branford shifted, and I opened my legs to him more completely as he settled between them and readied himself. With soft touches from his lips against my temple, I felt him guide himself into my body, and the warm, welcome pleasure washed over me as he pushed forward and buried himself in me.
As we connected—his body joining with mine so completely—I took a long, deep breath. It was the first I had been able to fill my lungs since he had gone off to war. I felt the touch of his tongue on my nipples, licking in circles at first, but then sucking in earnest. His hands explored where his mouth did not, all the while keeping his slow, steady thrusts inside of me.
“So beautiful…so soft…my wife…” he mumbled into my skin.
I touched his hair, his arms, and his shoulders—running my hands over and over his skin as if I could not get enough of it. I couldn’t. He said it was not over—he may even be leaving yet tonight. I wrapped my arms around him and raised my head up to run my cheek over the top of his. He released my nipple and he kissed me, his tongue caressing mine as his hips continued their ceaseless rhythm.
Branford’s warm hands were in my hair, on my face, sliding over my ribs and down to my hips. Even with the heat of the summer night heavy in the air, his touch was comforting to my skin. I reached around his back, tightly gripping the muscles just below his shoulders as his movements began to quicken. I lay my head back, wrapped my legs around his hips, and tried to match his hurried movements.
I heard his low moan as I felt him empty inside of me, his body suddenly going taut as his hips collided with mine. He held himself there a moment before his muscles relaxed, and he rolled to his side, holding me close and nuzzling the skin at my neck.
“Do you need anything?” I asked softly. “Water? Or tea?”
“I just want to hold you.” His head rested heavily on my shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me. I felt his fingers skim my belly before they wrapped around my waist, and he pulled me close. I reached for his hair, stroking it softly from the top of his head, down his temple, and then down to his chin.
“If it is not over,” I asked tentatively, “how are you here?”
“I had to see you…be with you,” he said. “I have been insane without you.”
I felt his fingertips clench, digging into my skin.
“I rode alone. I left the rest of them behind, hiding in the forests. God, Alexandra—what have I done?”
My muscles tensed as the words poured from his mouth in a rush.
“I had good men, Alexandra.” He raised his head to look me in the eyes. The sorrow etched on his face tore at my heart. “I trained them myself…they were good soldiers. But there were just too many against us. I did not believe Edgar could gather such an army together in so short a time. I didn’t realize…”
His breath hitched in his throat, and he held his eyes closed tightly.
“They are almost all dead,” he said softly. He opened his eyes, and they implored me for an answer. “Where did he get so many men? You lived in his house...where did they come from?”
I could only shake my head in response.
“I am responsible for all of it. I knew when I chose you, it would be the final straw—the final insult to bring him to action. I did it with purpose and clear intent. All of their deaths are on my hands. All of them my fault...and I…I…I do not regret my actions.”
His gaze darted to mine again, and his hand reached to my cheek. He stroked my skin softly.
“I cannot regret them,” he said quietly, “for they brought you to me. God must have had some plan in mind, because He gave you to me. But the cost…so high…but you are so, so worth it to me.”
His other hand came up, and he held my face between his palms. His eyes looked deep into me as he leaned forward.
“I love you, my beautiful wife. You are my world, and regardless of the loss, I would never, ever take back any of my actions if it would mean I could not have you. I love you.”
My skin began to tingle as his words became clear, and I tried to search his eyes for some indication I had either heard wrong, or the words were not true. I found none and chastised myself for even considering it. Branford was not the kind of man to say such words without cause.
“Branford…” I reached up and touched his face, drawing my fingers over his jaw before I lifted my head up and placed my lips against his. “I love you, my husband. You are everything to me.”
His eyes widened as he looked down at me.
“I did not truly even dream…” he started to say, but quickly shook his head and ended his sentence with his mouth against mine. He continued to whisper the words against my mouth as I did the same. Eventually, he moved his lips to my neck, settling into the place he seemed to like the most. He held me, and I ran my fingers through his hair for some time before he spoke again.
“I have to surrender.” Branford’s whispered words cut through me. “If I surrender now, allow them to take what they have already gained without protest, I should at least be able to keep them away from here—away from you. To keep him away from my people, I will have to give him what he wants.”
“What does he want?” I asked.
“Sterling Castle,” Branford said. “He has always wanted it.”
“Why?”
“I have never understood his fascination with it. It does not matter now—if I offer it to him, he will let me end this. I must be able to bring peace back to Silverhelm.”
He found my fingers with his and brought them up to his lips, slowly kissing my knuckles. He rubbed the side of his face against the backs of my fingers and then held them against his chest.
“I have failed,” he whispered. “What must you think of me?”
I gripped his hands as they began to shake.
“I think you are considering your people first, putting yourself behind them and your kingdom,” I told him.
His gaze turned to meet mine, and a slow smile crossed his face.
“You sound like my mother,” he said quietly. He reached up and touched my cheek, then leaned in to kiss me softly. “Very, very wise.”
“She has taught me much,” I said.
“I can see you have taken her words to heart quickly,” he mused, “when it often t
ook me many hard lessons before I understood her words. You are a very smart woman, my wife.”
I knew he could not see the blush on my face, but his fingers stroked across my cheekbone anyway.
“I will have to return to my men soon,” Branford said. “But I loathe the idea of leaving you. I swear, I will return as soon as I am able.”
“I will be here, waiting for you,” I whispered in return. “I love you.”
The words seemed so easy now, and his returning smile and sentiment was enough to send my heart into rapid thumps against my chest. Branford held me a moment longer, then pulled himself out of the bed, quickly donning his clothes. He strode across the room, pausing briefly to stroke Amarra’s head. He did not look back as he left our rooms, and even from our window, as I watched him ride off into the night, he did not turn his face to look at me.
A messenger returned late the next evening with news of Branford’s surrender to King Edgar.
And that is how Silverhelm lost the war.
Chapter 6—Lamentably Arrange
It was a bittersweet moment when the scout on top of the castle called out, signaling the return of Branford’s army. As the people of Silverhelm crowded around the castle entrance, what was left of the men who went off to fight came into view. As the small group approached, the wails of those who had lost their loved ones rose up into the early evening sky.
As I spotted Branford atop Romero, his silhouette catching my eye immediately as he appeared on the horizon, I knew from his posture that he was weary and despondent. I longed to run to him as some of the other wives were doing when they saw their husbands in the distance, but I stood my ground. I stood tall as Sunniva did beside me, ready to greet the army as a whole, recognize their sacrifices, and do what I could to help our people accept the loss in their hearts. After our people were cared for, then I would tend to my husband.
Thirty-eight of Branford’s two hundred and fifty men returned. Some of those that did make it were greatly injured, being dragged in makeshift carts behind the horses. Some were beyond hope and only returned to die in their own lands with their families around them.
My breath caught in my throat as I saw the cart that bore Dunstan.
He was lying on his back, his right thigh wrapped tightly in cloth. Branford dropped from Romero’s back, handing the reins to Michael, and walked beside my former bodyguard with Parnell close behind. Branford’s gaze met mine only briefly as the horses came to a halt near the gates. He reached over and helped Parnell to pull Dunstan from the cart, carefully wrapping his arm under the injured leg. Though conscious, Dunstan was in obvious pain, and the bandages around his leg were seeped in dark blood. The two knights carried him past the onlookers and into the castle as the rest of the court followed.
“If he had not suffered such injury, Branford might not have come out of the final battle unscathed,” I heard Michael say to Camden as he walked up beside us. “We owe Dunstan for the life of the prince.”
“We will repay that debt in any way we can,” Camden responded.
I followed behind with the royal family as they took Dunstan to the barracks and placed him on one of the beds. Branford lay his hand on the man’s shoulder and spoke softly to him, and Dunstan nodded his response. Branford then turned and came to me and placed his palm against the side of my face, his eyes full of concern.
“Is there anything you can do for him?” Branford asked.
“I will look,” I said, “but I know so little of wounds such as these. I don’t know if I have the skill to help him.”
“Whatever you can do,” Branford said as his hand dropped from my cheek. “Anything.”
I held back my tears as I approached. Parnell and Michael laid Dunstan on his back on the mattress, and he cringed in pain as his leg was shifted. They stood near Dunstan’s head, holding his shoulders to keep him from moving as I slowly unwound the bandages from his leg. The cut was deep, red, and continued to bleed lightly. I remembered Edith speaking once of using a sewing needle and thread to bind a bad cut together, but I was not sure if such a thing could really be done.
Janet appeared, bringing Dunstan a cup of tea she said would help with the pain. He drank it down as I talked to Branford about Edith and her unusual sewing. His eyes widened at the thought, but when he spoke, his voice was desperate.
“Do you think you could do such a thing?” he asked. “Use a needle to sew through a man’s skin? I have heard of it, but I have never seen it done.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I have never done it before or even seen it be done. It would be very painful. If nothing is done, I fear the leg will be lost.”
“If it could save his leg, he would endure the pain.”
I nodded and sent Janet for my sewing needles and the strongest thread she could find. Michael fetched water and cloths to clean blood from the leg while Branford attempted his own brand of pain reduction—in the form of strong mead.
As Dunstan drank, I put everything I would need on the end of the bed.
“He will have to be held down tightly.” I looked to Branford, who nodded and switched places with Michael. He knelt on the floor and wrapped his hands around the young man’s calf—holding it firmly against the bed while I wiped blood from the gash in his thigh.
Dunstan’s body jerked as the needle entered through his skin, but he did endure, as Branford had said he would, until I had to pull the skin taut so the thread could pull and bind the edges of skin and seal the gash. I wished I was able to close my ears as well as my eyes as he began to scream—necessitating both Parnell and Camden to hold him against the bed as he thrashed. Branford’s arms flexed, and the muscles grew tight as he tried to keep the leg from moving.
“Work quickly!” he said through clenched teeth.
“I am trying,” I replied. I did not want to have to retrace my stitches, so I knew I needed to be careful. One of the other solders joined us to keep Dunstan as still as possible. I had managed to sew up two-thirds of the wound when Dunstan’s body went still.
“Is he—?” Branford cried out to Parnell.
“Passed out,” Parnell replied with a shake of his head. “He still breathes. We should finish quickly. I do not know if he can take much more.”
With Dunstan unconscious, I could work faster to complete the remaining stitches to hold the wound closed. With Janet’s help, I wrapped clean bandages around Dunstan’s thigh and sat back. Sunniva came up beside me, holding out a bowl of clean water. The queen herself helped me to clean the blood from my hands, and the king and prince moved Dunstan to a more comfortable resting place.
“Will he live?” Sunniva asked quietly.
“Only time will tell,” I said. “He is through the worst of it, I think. But I know very little of healing.”
“You were magnificent,” Sunniva stated. “It is fitting—he saved Branford, and now you may have saved him.”
When the tears came to my eyes this time, I let them fall.
Janet was left to watch over Dunstan as Branford and I followed the king and queen back to the grand hall, Parnell and Ida trailing behind. When we arrived, there were a few members of the court waiting for us, and Branford gave a quick recounting of Edgar’s army, the battles they fought over the time he was gone, the losses, and the conditions of his surrender.
There were many concessions Branford was forced to give to Hadebrand. His title to Sterling Castle was given to Edgar, along with the lands encompassing the village of Wynton. In addition, Edgar now held a high position in the court at Silverhelm and would be coming to the castle on a regular basis to meet with Camden and Branford. This, it seemed, was the most regrettable of all the concessions Silverhelm was to endure with the loss of the war.
After hearing the depiction of Branford’s surrender, Camden dismissed us, telling Branford to rest and tend to me. My husband’s weary eyes met mine, and he did not hesitate to take my arm and lead me to our rooms. As soon as the door behind me was closed, I was in his arms
and being carried swiftly to our bed. He pulled off my clothing unceremoniously and discarded his in the same manner.
He reacquainted himself with my curves, sliding his hands slowly from my shoulders to my hips before coming back up to wrap them around my breasts. He suckled each of them in turn as he slowly brought our bodies together.
I dropped my head and groaned at the feeling of the pressure inside of me as he entered. I missed this so very, very much while he was away. For a long moment, he stayed still and buried inside of me, and I was grateful. When he began to move, he moved slowly in and out of me as his mouth warmed my nipples. He moved one of his hands down between our bodies, and his thumb matched the pace of his slow thrusts.
“Oh! Branford!” I cried out as his motions quickened and my body responded, clenching tightly around him. I dug my fingers into his shoulder blades, and my back arched as his tongue and teeth continued to work my nipples.
“I love you…my wife…”
“My Branford…”
Branford moaned his prayers as he filled me, the tight muscles of his arms capturing my body and holding it firmly against his own. Rolling to his side, he held me in his tight embrace as he kissed and nibbled at my neck.
“I love you,” I whispered to him.
“And I love you,” he replied, “more than you will ever know. Images of you in my head were the only reason I could keep going. Even when loss was inevitable, I knew I had to get back to you…see your face again…”
“I missed you so much!” I cried as I wrapped my arms around his neck and finally let my tears flow freely. He held me tight against him, whispering softly to me and rocking our bodies together.
Though still exhausted from countless nights of poor sleep, neither Branford nor I did much sleeping the night of his return. However, we did spend most of the morning lying in the bed with our arms wrapped tightly around each other.
“I do not ever wish to be away from you again,” he told me.
“Then do not leave again,” I responded.
Branford’s eyes sparkled at me as he leaned forward and captured my mouth with his and then continued over my jaw to my ear and down my neck.
