WinterofThorns

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“I have business matters to which I must attend, milady,” he told her.

  She inclined her head. “Of course, Your Grace.” She curtsied deeply, her head lowered.

  He bowed to her and started to walk away.

  “Your Grace?” she called after him but he didn’t turn around though he did stop.

  “Aye, milady?”

  “May I speak with Lady Jana while I am here?”

  “She is your daughter-in-law and that is your right. She’s not a prisoner here.”

  “Is she not?” Millicent queried and watched his shoulders tighten.

  “No, milady. She is not.” He continued on his way.

  Millicent watched him as he strode briskly from the Great Hall, concern tight on her face.

  * * * * *

  “Milady,” Jana said, sinking into a graceful curtsy. “It is an honor.”

  Millicent was struck speechless by the beauty whose face turned up to hers. The girl was the embodiment of young womanhood, and if she were to handpick a wife for her son on looks alone, Jana would be her choice.

  But it was the sad—yet hopeful—look in the young woman’s gray eyes that set the odds in her favor. When next she spoke, her words sealed the deal.

  “How is he? Is he well? Is he eating? Sleeping? Has he had any more headaches?” Her eyes flared. “Is he in your dungeon still?”

  The words rushed over one another and came from a chest that was heaving with worry, exhaled on breath that was ragged and jittery, the questions punctuated by flying hands that trembled.

  Millicent laughed. “Sweeting, he was never in our dungeon. He is under house arrest, which means he has run of the house but isn’t allowed outside.”

  Jana closed her eyes and her lips moved as though she were giving entreaty to some godly ear.

  “He is quite well though he misses you dearly,” Millicent said. “Now, please rise. I am too old and too frail to pick you up from the floor.”

  Jana’s lips quirked but Millicent knew it wasn’t humor that had made them twitch but unsureness. “I miss him,” she said, her voice breaking. “More than you know.”

  “I’ve some idea,” Millicent replied.

  “Please tell him I love him and that I am heartsick not being with him,” Jana said then groaned. “Forgive me, milady. I should not—”

  “Fiddlesticks! Yes you should and it answers many questions I had concerning you, Lady Jana,” Millicent said.

  “Ask anything you like, milady, and I will answer true,” Jana swore. She put a hand to her heart. “On my love for your son, I will tell you whatever you wish to know.”

  Millicent smiled at her. “My son chose well in his ladylove.”

  Jana’s eyebrows drew together much in the same way Seyzon’s had before he had lost control of his emotions. “He knows, doesn’t he?” she asked. “What transpired at Riverglade?”

  “Aye, dearling, he does and the knowing has taken a terrible toll on him,” Millicent replied.

  Jana put her hands over her eyes. “Things could not get worse,” she said with a hitch in her breath.

  “Aye, they could,” Millicent said, and when the girl lowered her hands and she saw the moisture clinging to Jana’s lashes, she nodded. “He could have annulled your Joining but he is not going to do that.”

  “Are you sure?” Jana asked, putting out a pleading hand. “Did he swear it to you?”

  Millicent frowned. “Has he not told you as much?”

  “No, milady.” Jana shook her head. “He barely speaks to me at all and then it is only in passing at table to include me in the conversation.”

  “I see,” Millicent acknowledged. “So he has said nothing to you of sending you to Lavenfeld when Seyzon’s punishment is o’er?”

  “He has not, milady, and neither has he told me how long that punishment will last.”

  “Nor has he told my son but have no fear, I will pin him down,” Millicent stated. “Now, let’s you and I get to know one another. I think Zonny would like that, don’t you?”

  Chapter Four

  Vindan came awake with a gasp. He fought with the covers as though they were attacking him until he had pushed them from the bed. The sounds that were coming from his throat as he battled shamed him and he had to clamp his jaw tight to stop them from pouring out of him. Soaking wet with sweat—his hair plastered to his forehead—he scrambled from the bed to stand in the middle of his bedchamber, shivering violently. Stabbing a shaking hand through the wet curls to push them out of his eyes, he had to struggle to get himself under control.

  “Fuck!” he hissed, his chest deflating and expanding so quickly he felt lightheaded so he stumbled back to the bed to plop down.

  The dream that had shoved him brutally into consciousness was clinging to him like a cold, wet towel draped over his shoulders. The chill of it bore down to the marrow of his bones. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, taste the bitter bile oozing into his mouth. With a rugged gulp, he shot off the bed and barely made it into the bathing chamber before he puked. Hot, stinging vomit erupted into the bowl as he fumbled to hook his fingers over the upraised wooden seat. So powerful was the regurgitation it sent him to his knees with his stomach clenched. Over and over again he gagged until there was nothing left to bring up. When he was finished, he fell sideways to his hip and lay clutching the porcelain rim with his cheek resting against it, his entire body shivering uncontrollably.

  As he half-sat, half-reclined on the cold stone floor, he knew there was no way he would ever get back to sleep. Beyond the open windows beside his bed the sky was still pitch-black—the middle of the night—and dawn was a long way away. Dragging in mouthfuls of breath, he pulled himself up then stood swaying for a moment while the lightheadedness still had him in its grip. When he was finally able to stagger from the bathing chamber, he went back to his bed and lay down, drew up his knees and wedged his clasped hands between them in an effort to still his shaking.

  “Tell me, Vindan. Did you enjoy breaking his lady-wife as you did his toys all those years ago?”

  “That isn’t what happened.”

  “No? Did you not break her just a little bit, Vindan?”

  “I did the lady no harm. I was very gentle with her.”

  “I am sure you were but that isn’t the point, is it?”

  What was it Jana had said the morning after?

  “I am grateful you did not hurt me last eve, Your Grace. I thank you for that.”

  His reply had been meant to ally her fears but hearing the words again in his mind he realized how cold and callous they had been.

  “I tried to be as gentle as I could given the circumstances. I am not a brute, milady. Nor am I a rapist. I had the legal right—albeit it an ancient and seldom used legal right—to have you. I exercised that right. And it was your choice to allow me the execution of that right.”

  He moaned again.

  There hadn’t really been a choice. The outcome was exactly as he had planned it from the moment he had been told of Seyzon’s proposal of Joining to the girl.

  After the rage and the destruction of a goodly portion of his private office had ended. The rage became a slow, simmering commitment to hurt Seyzon Montyne as badly as Vindan felt he had been hurt and the way to do that was to hit him where it would pain him the most.

  “You broke his heart. You humiliated him.”

  “How is he?”

  “Damaged. As is the friendship the two of you have shared all these years. The question is, can that friendship be repaired?”

  He turned his face into the pillow. It wasn’t the dream that came back to him as he lay there that made his soul ache. It wasn’t only the memories of the words Lady Millicent and Jana had spoken to him that compounded the hurt. Rather it was the actual events, which ran through his mind like the playback from a vid-com, that cast him into anguish. Try as hard as he might, he could not get the images out of his mind and they began running through his brain—again—as they had every night since the
fateful one at Riverglade…

  She trembled as he went to her. Her eyes reminded him of a deer frozen in place as it looked at the hunter whose quarrel was aimed at its heart. The knuckles of her hands were white as she clutched them tightly in front of her and he watched as her lip quivered. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  “I will not hurt you, sweeting. As the gods are my witness, I will not,” he said quietly.

  She stood absolutely still as he closed to within mere inches of her and when he put his hand up to caress her cheek, she swallowed hard.

  “Be at ease, sweeting.” He splayed his fingers over her cheek, anchoring his thumb beneath her chin to tip up her face to his. He searched her frightened eyes—eyes that drew him in like verdant whirlpools—thinking they were the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Circling his gaze over her face, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she was the most stunning woman he had ever encountered.

  And she did not belong to him but to a man he loved as dearly as a brother.

  Her lush lips pursed as he continued to stare at her. A ripple of fear undulated down her slender frame. He heard a low moan deep in her throat.

  “Ah,” he said softly, a part of him saddened at what he was doing to her.

  He pulled her head to his chest, slipped his free arm around her trembling body, and when she turned her cheek to lay it against his shirt, he tilted his head back, closed his eyes, for she fit against him as though born to do so. His hand tightened on her cheek.

  “Please don’t be afraid of me,” he begged. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  He heard a slight hitch in her breath and felt another wave of unease flow through her. It made his heart ache to know he was causing her distress and for a fleeting second he thought to step away from her, leave her be.

  But the sweet scent of her filled his nostrils. His body was aware of hers pressed the length of his. He wanted her as he’d never wanted another woman and despite the fact she belong to Seyzon, he knew he had to have her.

  Clenching his jaw, he moved away from her just far enough to bend and sweep his arm under her legs, to lift her. He felt her stiffen, heard a soft cry cut off in mid-trill, and she shivered. As he took one step toward the bed, her breath left her lungs in wavering bursts and he knew her heart was pounding fiercely. He could almost feel it thundering against his own.

  Slowly he carried her to the bed and as gently as he could, he lowered her to the coverlet. He watched a shudder run through her as she lay there like a virginal sacrifice. In truth, that was what she was and that knowledge stung him like an angry wasp.

  Yet not enough to stay his intent.

  He sat down beside her, twisted so he could once more cup her cheek. He could not get enough of looking at her lovely face and because she lay so rigidly, he swore he would do everything in his power to make her first time a pleasure and not the horror she was expecting it to be.

  He trailed the backs of his fingers gently along her left cheek, down the ridge, under the point of her chin then down the other cheek. Turning his hand, he slid his fingertips across her lips—tracing the lush sweetness.

  “You are incredibly lovely,” he whispered. He ran the tip of his index finger back and forth across her lips. “So incredibly lovely.” Moving his hand, he cupped her chin then leaned over her until his lips were almost touching hers. “So very alluring.”

  He watched her eyes widen as he pressed his lips to hers. He felt—rather than saw—her fingers digging into the fabric of the coverlet, twisting it tightly. She stiffened even more beneath him as he kissed her softly.

  “Let me love you, Jana,” he said against her lips, his voice nothing more than a breath.

  He slid his hand from her chin to span the column of her slender neck so that his palm lay directly over the hollow of her throat, the heel resting on her chest, his forearm angled across her breast. A hard shudder waved down her body, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, but otherwise she didn’t move.

  “Jana? Sweeting?” he whispered. “I want you to open your mouth for me.”

  He saw her eyes pop open and there was stark terror lurking there.

  “Sweeting,” he said, as though talking to a child. “All I am going to do is slip my tongue between your lips.” He slowly shook his head. “Nothing more.”

  Her eyelids flickered. She looked so vulnerable. So helpless.

  “Open your mouth, Jana,” he said and put a hint of authority into the command.

  Her chin trembled but slowly—infinitely so—her lips parted. He could see the edge of her straight white incisors.

  “That’s my girl,” he whispered. Once more he lowered his mouth to hers and with gentle care pressed his lips to hers then glided the tip of his tongue into the quivering opening.

  A low groan—of shock? Of shame? Of desire?—came from deep inside her throat. He could feel the vibration against his tongue as he thrust it slowly and tenderly deeper into her mouth. Not giving her any time to protest, he stroked her bottom lip with the underside, curling the tip to press against the sensitive corners. Another groan encouraged him.

  He thrust deep into her mouth then plied his tongue against hers firmly and pressed his lips tightly to hers. Her mind engaged with what his mouth was doing to hers, he slipped his hand farther down her neck until his splayed fingers were resting in the center of chest—just above her breasts, his elbow now pressed into her upper abdomen.

  He withdrew his tongue as he gently sank his elbow determinedly into her belly to push the blood to her groin.

  “I want you, Jana,” he said against her mouth. “So badly my body aches.”

  She drew in a breath as though he had wounded her with his words.

  He spoke low, barely above a whisper now. “I would pleasure you, milady.”

  Her eyes seemed to reluctantly meet his and he felt encouraged by the reaction so he straightened up, gazing down at her with as much desire as he could put into the look. With her stare locked on his, he slid his hand to her left breast.

  She shivered. Her eyebrows drew together—not in puzzlement but in distress. A hard swallow rippled down her throat.

  He gently caressed her through the material of her Joining gown, his fingers tightening, releasing. Tightening. Releasing.

  “I would show you what passion truly is.” He moved his hand to the other breast and at her quickly indrawn breath, he squeezed that soft mound. “I will satisfy you.”

  Those four words set her body to quivering and bright moisture gathered in her pretty eyes. Her chin was trembling again, her lips pressed tightly together.

  “Relax, love,” he told her and removed his hand. He got to his feet and put his fingers to the buttons of his shirt. “Let me show you how desire can make you feel.”

  She was trapped in his gaze as he ran the buttons, pulled the shirt from the waistband of his pants then undid the cuffs. As she stared at him, he shrugged out of the shirt and let it fall to the floor. The moment his hands went to the buckle of his belt, he watched her eyes flare.

  Why it should he could not have explained but that movement of her eyes made his cock jut hard against his fly. Lust drove through him like a battering ram. He felt his breath increase. Could feel his blood begin to pound.

  Eyes fused with hers, he drew the belt hole from the silver tang then slid the leather free of the buckle. The soft sound of clinking metal drew her eyes from his to his waist. She seemed to stop breathing as he put his hands to the waistband of his pants and freed the button there. Once more she swallowed with difficulty but her gaze was locked on his hands. Slowly, he ran the zipper down then stopped.

  “Jana?” he asked.

  Her eyes jerked up to his.

  “Have you ever seen a man’s cock?”

  She shook her head.

  “Touched one?”

  She shook her head again, shuddering as she did.

  He smiled then peeled apart his fly. Once more her eyes shifted to his hands. He saw her hands twist the cover
let. Watched her entire body go rigid as he reached inside his pants to free his cock.

  Her lips parted and he knew it wasn’t from desire but shock. He was not a small man and his cock was engorged with blood, the broad head glistening with pre-cum. It leapt in his hand.

  “See how much he wants you?” he asked as he squeezed her hand upon him. He tipped his head slightly to the side.

  She made that sound again and for a moment he almost relented but he wanted her too badly to stop now. He was nearly naked before her and he wanted her to see all of him. He wanted to see all of her.

  “Do you see the moisture at his tip?” he asked. “Do you know why he does that?”

  She seemed unable to look away from her grip on him.

  “Look at me, Jana.”

  Slowly she pried her eyes from his cock and leveled them on his face.

  “It is because he is weeping for you, pretty one. He wants to be inside you. He needs to be inside you.”

  A hard quiver traveled down her body and from the corner of his eye he saw her heels digging into the mattress.

  “You need him to be inside you, sweeting. He won’t hurt you,” he said. “He will make you feel very, very good.”

  Once more he sat down beside her and with his cock jutting fiercely from the opening of his pants, leaned down to remove his boots, his socks. He was so hard, so stiff it hurt to move. Boots off, he stood, pushed his pants down his hips and stepped out of them.

  “Oh,” she said as he turned to face her—nothing between his naked body and her staring eyes except air.

  “I am told my body isn’t hard to look at,” he said. “Is that true in your estimation, sweeting?”

  She seemed to give in to the inevitable at that point. He watched the fight, the resistance fade away. He was standing nude before her and the realization of what was about to happen had finally sunk in. She looked up at him. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

  “You are very handsome, milord,” she said in a strained voice. “But you already know that.”

  He smiled then held out his hand to her. There was only a moment’s hesitation before she laid her palm in his. The slide of her flesh against his made his cock pulse. When she glanced down at it, he had the wild urge to throw himself upon her, ravage her until she moaned his name.