She bit her lip. “Spank me again,” she said breathlessly. His hot gaze flew to meet hers. “On the other cheek this time.”
He gave a short rumble of laughter. “I wasn’t sure you’d realized how much wetter you grow when I do that,” he mused and delivered one stinging blow and then another. Lenora cried out and sank down the last couple of inches until she had taken him as deep as he could go. “Oh gods,” she cried, her head lolling back.
He felt the deep clench of her body and had to close his eyes to withstand it. This was no mere flutter or ripple of delight around his girth. Lenora had shot past the lower levels and was at the peak already. He felt a sweat break out as he realized he would have to work to withstand the pleasure or it would all being over before it had even begun!
“Fuck!” Garman roared, jolting forward, his grip hard on her hips. Lenora’s glazed eyes fixed on him in alarm. “I can’t—oh fuck me,” he gritted out tersely as he felt himself begin to throb within her. Then his arms were around her, pulling her in closer until she was plastered against him, and his hand was tangling in the hair, yanking her tight against him and his mouth was covering hers. He needed to ease up on her. She would not like having her mouth mashed against his like this. Even if she felt soft and willing in his arms. He could feel the throb and spurt of his cock inside her. It was the strangest sensation in the world even though this must be the third time he had done it. He dragged his mouth from hers, his hand sliding down her back to her clench her hip.
“Garman,” she cried, sounding panicked as he felt.
“Yes,” he grunted. “Wrap your legs around my back. Now Lenora!” He barely recognized his own voice; it was so gravelly. Lenora’s eyes were blue like a clear summer sky. She sobbed with relief and struggled to rearrange her limbs to comply with his demands. He heard her ankle knock against the side of the tub as she floundered a moment. Probably she had pins and needles. He reached around her, grabbing, pulling, urging her to wrap her legs tightly around him. She crossed her ankles and held on tight as he shook with the sheer force of his release.
Then his hand was in the hair at her nape again, turning her head as he crushed his mouth to hers, seeking something desperately as he gave her his seed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, so she was clinging to him like a limpet, draining him of his life force and curling into him like she never wanted to let go.
He wasn’t sure how many minutes later it was that she uncrossed her ankles. The water was definitely cooler now and if she wasn’t plastered so firmly against his body-heat, they would surely be shivering. Her face was pressed into his shoulder as if she wasn’t ready to look him in the eye yet.
“Did I say to do that?” Garman growled.
“No, but—”
“I’m not pulling out,” he said confrontationally, and Lenora paused.
“Oh?”
“Not till I’m ready.” Fuck, he was a boorish lout. Even as he recognized the fact, he felt powerless to change the fact. She’d just have to accept him as he was. Exerting a huge effort, he dragged himself up and out of the water, still carrying Lenora in his arms. As he lowered her carefully to the floor, he slid out of her, but it wasn’t his choice to break contact.
He should let her wash between her legs, he thought, grudgingly handing her a cloth. She flushed as he glanced down between them and then cleaned herself up with hurried swipes of the cloth. She bent down to rinse the cloth in the bath and then handed it back to him with flaming cheeks. He handed her the nearest drying cloth before he set about cleaning himself. He should probably feel more annoyed with himself for his lack of restraint but found himself unequal to it. How could he when he felt such bone-deep satisfaction?
Lenora wound the cloth about herself and made her way exhaustedly toward their bed. Garman finished drying himself off, his eyes never leaving her. When she started groping about the bed for her shift, he glanced back toward the floor next to the tub where it lay in a puddle of water. He watched her blonde head emerge to blow the candle out on her side of the bed.
“Can you fetch me a clean shift?” she asked drowsily.
“No, you don’t need it. And don’t bother trying to fall asleep before I get in the bed. You know you can’t sleep without me there.”
“Then I shall have to learn!” she retorted; her voice only slightly muffled. “As you won’t even be here.”
“Mayhap I’ll ride back at midnight one or two nights,” he said lazily, rubbing a cloth over his arms. “And sneak up here at dead of night.” She made no reply to that and he flung the cloth down on a chair before making his way to the bed. “Lenora?”
“I’m asleep.”
“Should you like that?” he asked, sliding between the covers until he found her curled up body.
“I should not care at all!” she retorted with spirit.
He dragged her back into his arms. “Liar. You’d like it as much as me.”
But in his heart of hearts, he doubted she even could. He sighed as their naked bodies came up flush against each other. He wondered at the strange feeling creeping over him. What was it? His eyes were drifting shut when he came up with the answer. Contentment.
33
The next morning, he rose at dawn, packed up his jousting gear and armor and set off for Cofton Grange. Lenora was still soundly sleeping and small wonder, for he had been insatiable the previous night and twice woke her in the night, wearing her out with his ardor. It must have been about two weeks now since she had suffered any bad dreams.
She had attempted to remind him of his resolve to withdraw, but he had stopped her words with his mouth, until she gave up, accepting he was holding nothing back.
On reaching the Grange, his satisfaction soon trickled away and even though he kept himself busy, he found himself strangely plagued throughout the day with recurring thoughts of his wife. Even physical exertion, usually an effective refuge from persistent notions failed him. Huw fumbled a charge, Garman bawled at him and thought of Lenora. Ivo complained of the vamplate and how unwieldy the lance rest felt on his breastplate, Garman cursed him soundly and thought of Lenora.
Doubtless it was the fact she had him enthralled in the bedchamber, he told himself uneasily as he washed up for supper. She was certainly proving an apt pupil in that respect and thinking of her warm and willing made both his breath and his loins quicken. It occurred to him he was a damn fool to leave his bed when she lay in it.
But it wasn’t only that, he thought with a frown as he sat down to a table thick with dust and bit into slightly stale bread. Looking at the Hainfroys across a table was a far less pleasant prospect than the one he was fast growing used to. But how could he have grown so domesticated in so short a time? He did not care overmuch about the toughness of the meat in the thick stew for he had eaten far worse. Nor for the fact he had to draw and heat his own water for washing or take a bath before the kitchen fire. No, it was her person he missed rather than any attendant comfort or convenience.
If things weren’t quite so barbarous here, he could perchance have brought her with him. But the thought of setting her in a damp bed and expecting her to set her fair hands to a dirty house which was not her own did not sit right with him.
He could not help but wonder what she was doing at this precise moment, as Huw clapped him on the back and Ivo filled his cup with ale. They were expecting visitors at the farm he remembered, and she would be wearing her mauve dress. He frowned suddenly, wondering at the identity of his grandfather’s neighbors. If it was the Dauntreys, they had at least two sons of marriageable age.
“You frown, brother,” Ivo chided him. “Yet you said yourself that last pass I made was credible enough and you’ve seen many a worse in the field.”
Garman grunted and refused the strong red wine Huw was holding out to him. “You’ll need clear heads on the morrow,” he growled, but knew the Hainfroys would not heed him or train any the less hard tomorrow for drinking tonight. It was simply habit with them. The brothers were
in exuberant spirits, flushed with triumph and thoughts of their new endeavor.
They debated now enthusiastically how soon they could enter a country tournament to gain some first-hand experience. Garman wondered how long he would have to wait before they would be snoring their heads off and he could steal away to Matchings Farm. When he had suggested such a thing the previous night to Lenora, it had been in jest, but the idea had since taken root in his mind. Why should he not? It was no more than an hour’s ride away, somewhat less. He could be there and back and neither brother none the wiser.
Purcel jumped up onto the table beside Huw’s plate and meowed. Garman watched with raised brows as Huw absent-mindedly fed the cat from his own plate. He did not think even Lenora would approve of that. Finding the Hainfroys a servant would be difficult, a wife nigh on impossible. He would have to remember to tell Lenora as much.
*
By the time he reached Matchings Farm it was pitch black, though the moon drifted in the sky giving him some silvery light to show his way. He stabled Bria’ag and made his way stealthily into the house via a side servant’s door. He was soft on his feet when he chose to be and though he had to pause when passing the kitchen for there was movement within, he slipped up the side staircase without much ado. He caught a glimpse of Hawise’s grandson banking the kitchen fire and old Kolby flickered a canine eyebrow at him, but otherwise none stirred.
He did not pause to knock at his bedchamber door, but instead passed straight through and found Lenora wide awake and propped up on a mountain of pillows, a ferocious frown at her brow. He checked at the expression on her face and tipped his head to one side.
“Have you been waiting for me, wife?” he asked. The notion was a strangely pleasing one. At his words, Fendrel perked up from the foot of the bed and jumped down, running over to him with a faint cry.
“No, for I did not realize you were in earnest when you said you might return at nightfall,” she said with a frankness he found irritating.
His brows snapped together. “Then why are you still awake?” he asked, sitting on a chair and pulling off his boots. He gave the kitten an absent pat on the head which set it purring.
“I have much on my mind,” she said crisply and held up a sheet of paper he had not noticed she had on her lap. “Such as this letter from my grandmother who it seems has been hearing all sorts of rumors about me and what happened at Kellingford.”
He shrugged. “Your letter should reach them soon in any case.”
“I doubt that will appease her,” she said looking troubled. “It was not exactly newsy.”
He gave her a hard look before unfastening his belt. “What did you write then?”
She chewed her lip. “Only that I was well and did not feel I had any other course of action open to me other than elopement.” She hesitated. “I wrote in the expectation of being them soon being reconciled to our news.”
“A bold wish, all considered,” he commented, drawing his tunic over his head. He did not want to talk about Lenora’s fucking foolish family but could not see how he could in all decency say as much, then tell her what he did want from her. Namely, her sweet little body. And, he added thoughtfully, her mouth.
She sat up, regarding him keenly. “Yes, but why should they not be? My father had no great opinion of Sir Lionel above any of my other suitors.” When he made no answer, she added belligerently, “Besides, I want my dowry.”
He flung the tunic down next to his boots. “Why?” he asked pointedly and partook of a hasty wash with long cooled water.
“Because,” she spluttered. “I have every right to it. And we need it for our own place as you do not wish to settle here.”
He paused a moment, then started shucking down his braies and chauses. “I told you,” he said. “That I have that in hand. Your dowry is neither wanted nor needed.”
She fell silent at that, but it was far from a contented silence. He stepped out of his leggings and kicked them to the side.
“You did not ask,” Lenora said in a strange voice. “The name of your grandfather’s guests for supper this night.”
He paused by the side of the bed, unashamedly naked. “So, tell me then.”
“It was Skenfrith,” she said accusingly. “The Lady Beatrix and her two sisters-in-law. Very young for a widow, I thought and an extremely sweet and agreeable lady. Your grandfather was quite in raptures extolling her virtues and charitable work. She spoke on the subject of her home with much warmth. Apparently,” she added, fixing him with a cold eye. “It has been in her family for generations.”
Garman gave a short laugh. “What of it?” he asked, whisking back the sheets and climbing into the bed beside her, drawing her firmly into his arms. Lenora made some token resistance, but he drew her inexorably against his naked body.
“I am sure you are aware that I am talking about Matchings Halt,” she said stiffly. “The estate in which you have your beady eye on.”
He smiled against the top of her head. “I am aware,” he admitted.
She took a deep breath. “Well, I’ve decided I don’t want it,” she said forthrightly.
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said,” she replied frostily. “I don’t think it’s right that we should dispossess Lady Beatrix and turn her out of her own home—”
“We wouldn’t be,” he interrupted her.
Lenora pursed her lips. Clearly, she was holding back and strange to say, he wanted to hear what it was, almost in spite of himself.
“What?” he bit out. “Let’s have it.”
She puffed out a breath she was holding. “Only because you are getting some kinsman of hers to do the dirty work,” she said, angling her head and glancing up at him.
She had mettle; he’d give her that. She looked a little wary after delivering this piece of wifely defiance, but otherwise remained quite still and recumbent in his arms.
“You think I don’t care to get my hands dirty?” he asked, raising his brows in challenge. Likely she would back down now, he thought with a flicker of something like disappointment. But perhaps, just perhaps she would not.
“I don’t think you would particularly care about that,” she said reflectively after a moment. “I don’t think you care a damn for your reputation.”
He gave a short laugh. “Not just a pretty face, are you?”
“Not anymore, no,” she said and the slight wobble in her voice annoyed him. He had given her no reason to feel insecure about her looks.
He caught her chin with his fingers and forced her gaze back up to his. The gleam of defiance in the blue depths of her blue eyes pleased him. He smiled. “You know I like the way you look, Lenora,” he said softly. She swallowed and nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I am going to let you run rings around me.”
She moistened her lips. “I won’t change my mind,” she said. “I’m giving you fair warning that I will do anything in my power to find us an alternative. If that means securing my dowry to do it, then so be it.”
His eyes narrowed. “I won’t have you groveling for it, wife.”
“Groveling?” Her angry gasp reassured him.
“You heard me. And if it comes to warnings, then let me give you mine. For I mean to have Matchings Halt. It has been my ambition since I was a mere boy.”
“Very well, we’ve both made our intentions plain,” she said gamely. “The battle lines are drawn. Let’s have a fair fight and may the best man win.”
That did draw a smile from him. “You won’t win Lenora, but I give you leave to try if it amuses you.”
“By fair means or foul?”
“By whatever means you like,” he drawled. “You still won’t win.”
“I’m willing to take my chances,” she said.
He pinched her chin. “Do your worst,” he recommended and lowered his head to press his lips to hers. Lenora leaned into his kiss and he lay back, pulling her atop him. “Let’s get this off you,” he rumbled, tearing his lips from her
s. She wriggled about as he dragged it up her body, aiding and abetting him in his quest to get her equally naked.
“You’ll have to be quiet, Garman,” she recommended conspiratorially as he dropped the garment over the edge of the bed. “If anyone hears us, they’ll think it most odd as you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I’ll have to be quiet?” he said lazily. “You’re the noisy one.”
“Me?” She swiped at his shoulder and he laughed.
“Very well, we were both quite loud last time, unless I misremember.” His hands slid down to cup her rounded backside and he brought her up firmly against his hard, aching flesh. “Ah Lenora,” he groaned. “I’ve been half-hard since I saw you a-bed.”
“You’re a good deal more than half-hard, husband,” she said and undulated against him in a way he found wholly distracting.
“Keep moving like that.”
Immediately she stilled her hips. “Like what?” she asked, sounding self-conscious.
He gripped her buttocks and urged her closer. “Like you just did,” he growled against her ear and delivered a stinging swat to her backside. She hissed and moved her hips tentatively. “Good,” he rasped. “Now do it in earnest.”
She slid her arms around his neck and lifted her face to his. Unable to refuse the silent invitation, he took her mouth again greedily as she ground her hips against him.
Unable to help himself, he slid one hand over her delicious rear to delve between her legs to seek out the slippery folds betwixt them. They both moaned when he found just how wet she was there and he took no time to tease and rub her to the point where she had to tear her mouth from his to try and stifle her cries with her hand.
“Shall I make you reach it this way first?” he mused. Lenora sobbed and hid her face in his neck. “Or will that make your legs too weak for what I want?”
She could make him no reply by this point, just shuddered. This seemed to make up his mind.
The Unlovely Bride (Brides of Karadok Book 2) Page 33
