Bride of the Tower

by Schulze, Sharon

  He didn’t remain a passive participant for long. He lavished her breasts with attention, his hands and mouth never still. Julianna’s body felt light, warm, passion-lit until ’twas a wonder she didn’t explode into a thousand shards of light.

  They teased each other until their bodies were slick with sweat, until Julianna could not bear to be apart from Will a moment longer. “Now,” she pleaded.

  Once again he covered her hand with his own, pressing her fingers more firmly along his length. “Are you sure, Julianna? Be very certain this is what you want—that I’m what you want.” Holding her gaze, he pressed himself into her hand. “Because once I’ve got you, I won’t let you go.”

  “You cannot stop me now,” she told him. “Not if my life depended on it.” Smiling, Julianna slipped her hands into his braes and pushed them off. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said. She leaned over him, her hands running boldly over his hair-roughened flesh. “And neither are you.”

  Groaning deep in his chest, Will moved onto his side, caressing her with his eyes. Her body quivered in response, fired by an almost unbearable yearning to feel him against her skin, his weight pressing her into the soft bed beneath her, to know the strength of his passion burning hot within her.

  She got her wish. His every movement exquisitely slow, Will positioned her beneath him and linked his hands with hers. “Be mine, Julianna,” he whispered, his gaze holding hers. “Make me yours.” He eased into her body, allowing her time to adjust to him.

  She felt a mere twinge of discomfort as he slid into her, then passion sent her flying.

  Watching him, she matched move for move, using her hands and body to tempt him, even as he did the same to her. Soon both were gasping.

  Her hands skimming the sweat-damp contours of Will’s back, Julianna’s entire being strained toward an elusive pinnacle. The higher she climbed, the more tantalizing it seemed, but she couldn’t quite—

  “Easy, love.” Will groaned into her mouth just before his tongue slipped in to duel with hers. “Don’t rush—’tis better if we go slow.”

  “I will if you will,” she told him. Capturing his face in her hands, she drew her fingers through his hair and down his chest. His entire body tightened in response; grinning, he varied the rhythm of their bodies, continuing to taunt and tease. Every motion a caress, he reached down and repositioned her legs higher about his waist, tearing his lips free with a gasp as he sank more deeply into her softness.

  The intensity of Will’s gaze, the urgency of his body, finally pushed Julianna over the edge. Sinking her teeth into his shoulder, her entire being reaching for him, she flew beyond the boundaries of pleasure.

  Breathless, unable to do more than grasp Will to her as if she’d never let him go, Julianna’s head fell back on the pillows.

  But he wasn’t done with her yet. The flush of passion on his cheekbones matched the drive of his straining body, fiery, hot. Arms unsteady, Will rested his weight on his elbows and clasped her face in his hands. “Mine,” he said in the ghost of a whisper. The smooth grace of his movements disappeared. “Julianna,” he ground out as the pleasure took him captive and pulled her along with it.

  Stifling a moan against his lips, she grabbed him tightly just before pleasure sent her flying again, as well.

  A quiet rapping on the door drew Will up from the depths of sleep at once. He slid carefully away from Julianna, who slept on, apparently oblivious to the disturbance.

  He realized he was naked just before he got to the door. Where had his braes gone?

  He grabbed the end of a sheet from the bed and eased it away from Julianna, who still didn’t move. What he and Julianna had been doing would be clear to whoever stood on the other side of the portal, no matter what he did—or didn’t—wear.

  What if Julianna didn’t want anyone to know she’d given herself to a man? She was a noble lady, after all.

  Jesu, at this point he could scarce think straight; no matter what he did, he’d likely be wrong.

  More knocking, a bit louder this time, spurred his brain. He’d simply pretend he’d been in the other chamber, asleep on his pallet where he no doubt ought to be.

  Will hurried into the other room and quietly shut the connecting door. Yawning, he gathered the sheet about his waist and tugged open his own.

  Rolf turned to him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I was seeking my lady, not you,” he told Will.

  “Since it didn’t seem as though Lady Julianna was about to respond to your summons, I decided to see who was here and what they wanted. After she nearly fell off the wall tonight, I imagine she’s resting.” Will scratched absently at his chest and met Rolf’s steady gaze. “No doubt she needs it.”

  The man nodded, though he didn’t look too eager to deal with Will rather than Lady Julianna.

  “If you want to wake her, all you need to do is to hammer a bit louder,” Will informed him. “I’m sure she’ll awaken eventually.”

  “Nay, it’ll wait till morn. Just wanted to let her know we couldn’t find the archer who shot at you. We’ll keep looking.” Rolf turned away as if to leave, then spun about and took a step closer to Will, his face twisted into a scowl. “If you seek to hide what you and milady’ve been doing, I suggest you put on a shirt next time you come to the door.” His frown disappeared, replaced by a grin, to Will’s surprise. “Doesn’t matter much which door you open, when you look like you’ve been marked up by a she-cat.”

  Will glanced down at his chest, where the marks of Julianna’s stitchery had been joined by obvious scratches on his shoulder and a love bite low on his throat. So much for subtlety. He nodded.

  Rolf thumped him on the arm. “You just remember to treat her well, young sir, else you’ll be answering to more than just me.” This time when he turned away, he kept on going down the stairs.

  Will climbed back into bed and watched Julianna as she slept, her hair spread out over the pillows, the ends draped across his chest. ’Twas as soft and sweet as her skin, a temptation he already wanted to indulge himself in again.

  But though his body might be willing, his mind knew he’d other things to do, more important in the greater scheme of things than to lie abed with his lover and fill his senses with her.

  She turned toward him and nestled closer. He shifted his wounded arm so her head rested on his shoulder, even that slight movement reminding him of the injuries Julianna had mended.

  His head felt fine now—because ’twas hard as a rock, no doubt, as Lord Connor and Lord Rannulf both had reminded him so often. The other wounds appeared to be healing well, but he’d put a strain on them by pulling Julianna up and onto the wall walk.

  And by hauling her back to her chamber over his shoulder, he thought with a quiet laugh.

  Not to mention the new “wounds” he bore—wounds he’d wear proudly, for they were the marks of a woman well satisfied.

  He couldn’t distract himself from the night’s earlier events for long, however. They’d no doubt haunt his dreams for years to come. That moment when he’d grabbed for Julianna’s gown, had feared the delicate fabric would tear completely and send her plunging to the hard earth below….

  He’d have reached for her had it torn his wounds open wide; protecting himself at her expense had never crossed his mind. How could he have watched her fall and done nothing? The mere thought was nigh impossible to contemplate. Though a fall from that height would not necessarily have killed her, of a certainty she’d have been gravely injured.

  Thank God he’d been able to keep hold of her!

  The recollection alone of those endless moments was enough to send shivers down his spine.

  Something cold brushed against his chest, startling him from the disquieting memory. ’Twas Julianna’s medallion. He leaned closer to peer at the design etched there; ’twas of an archer drawing back his bow.

  Robin’s daughter, indeed.

  She’d her father’s bravery, Will knew; seldom did women go so far as to actually protect t
heir lands with their own bodies. Even Gillian, for all her bold ways, had never ridden about her demesne fully armed in a warrior’s armor, ready to fight.

  Julianna stretched, rubbing against him from head to toe. His body leapt instantly to attention.

  “Will?” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

  “Aye, love, I’m here.”

  She smiled and pressed an awkward kiss on his chin before burrowing under the covers. He wrapped her in his arms and rested his head atop hers.

  How was it that he suddenly understood what had made so many of the men he knew become husbands as well as warriors? Had it happened so quickly as this, made them question themselves, their lives, their emotions?

  He’d not ever expected anything to tug him away from his duty. He’d planned out his life. There had been the possibility of a mate, of a home and children—but as the next step a man took, not as a compulsion that drove him, as his growing feelings for Julianna were doing.

  He must leave for Lincoln today! If he was well enough to make love to Julianna, he could certainly mount a horse and go about the business that had brought him here in the first place.

  Though he couldn’t complete all he’d set out to do when he’d come to Nottinghamshire, not quite yet, he reminded himself. His reservations about Birkland and Sir Richard Belleville would have to wait until he returned from Lincoln.

  He could—and would—send word to Lord Rannulf about his suspicions, however, especially since he didn’t plan to return to l’Eau Clair quite yet.

  Now that he knew Rachel was Belleville’s sister, he wondered if she could be useful in discovering what her brother was doing. Perhaps she knew already…. He glanced down at the woman held snug in his embrace. Mayhap Julianna might be able to learn something from Rachel while he was gone. From what Julianna had told him last night, Rachel had no desire to return to her brother’s keeping, and she had lived at Birkland.

  She might be a treasure trove of information, if she was willing to share it.

  If he could arrange for her to go to one of Lord Rannulf’s keeps, perhaps to join Gillian’s household…

  That might work.

  Will brushed at something tickling his neck, and captured Julianna’s hand. Giggling, she rolled atop him and drew the fingers of her other hand around his neck to hover at his throat.

  “I’ve been attacked by a she-cat, or so I was told,” he said. “Can you see the marks?”

  Color bloomed in her cheeks as she stroked the mark on his throat, then covered it with her palm. “Someone saw? Who was it?”

  “Aye.” He eased her other hand around from his neck and stroked it over the scratches. “He saw these as well,” he told her teasingly.

  Julianna pressed both hands palm-down on his chest and raised herself up. “Who, Will?” she coaxed, bending to trace her tongue over the mark on his throat.

  He laughed at the expression on her face—concentration mixed with blossoming passion. “What will you do if I don’t tell you?” he asked, his voice thickening as she scraped her teeth lightly along his collarbone.

  “I may be forced to have my way with you until you talk,” she murmured. She settled atop his burgeoning manhood and held him cradled against her softness. Her breasts grazed his chest, her nipples tracing a heated path across his own.

  Will sucked in a shaky breath. “Is that supposed to make me talk?” he teased. “’Tis more like to strike me dumb, especially if you continue what you’re doing.” He smoothed his hands down over her back and cupped her buttocks to hold her tight to his aching flesh. “Please, love, don’t stop what you’re doing.”

  Julianna smiled and pressed her mouth to his own eager lips. “Sir Will, prepare to be tortured.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Birkland

  He couldn’t have received better news.

  Sir Richard rubbed his hands together, his pleasure at the report from Tuck’s Tower the one highpoint in a truly miserable week. His archer had not only been able to take a clear shot at Julianna the night before, it sounded as though he’d hit her!

  Richard doubted there would be much resistance at all from her people once he brought his troops in to take command of the place.

  His hands shook with excitement as he poured a generous measure of wine into a heavy chased goblet. ’Twas a fine brew, worthy of the occasion.

  Now if only the man he’d sent to bring back Rachel would return with her soon, he might finally allow himself to believe that all his plans would soon come to a successful fruition.

  By Christ, but he was tired of the need to plot and scheme! The continuous struggle to gain the power he deserved sucked away the enjoyment of his victories, both large and small. He never seemed to have a moment of peace to savor them.

  Richard stared into the deep red wine, the color of pleasure, of wealth and richness. Someday, he vowed, someday soon he would garb himself in crimson velvet, savor the finest drink, partake of exotic foods and have the most skilled and beautiful highborn harlots at his beck and call.

  The whores who serviced him now would do nigh anything he ordered, ’twas true, but he’d heard that there were noble women—beautiful and experienced—who took pleasure in his sort of love play.

  Women who’d satisfy his every desire with equal fervor.

  Everything he’d ever wanted.

  Soon, he reminded himself.

  He sipped the last of the wine, rolling the rich vintage over his tongue.

  Very, very soon.

  Tuck’s Tower

  Julianna awoke alone, though she hadn’t far to look to find her lover. Will stood by the window, gazing past the open shutters at the rising sun.

  She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the better to savor the sight of him. His hair and skin gleamed with a golden glow, limned by dawn’s light. The increasing brightness highlighted the lean musculature of his body.

  The body she’d learned by sight, by touch, by taste last night.

  As he had learned hers.

  “If you’re to leave today, you’ll need your messages back.” Wrapping a sheet about her, Julianna climbed out of bed and went to the hearth. “You were very close when you found those old parchments.” She knelt and tugged at several stones, opening up a narrow space. Reaching in, she eased out the leather pouch and held it out for him. He took it and set it on the bed near his discarded clothes.

  “I apologize for reading the one addressed to Sir Richard,” Julianna said. “’Twas none of my business, I know. ’Tis only that the man infuriates me! He’s a boil on the backside of Nottinghamshire, though since your overlord lives far from here, I can understand why he wouldn’t know Richard’s true nature. He’s an avaricious fool. I hope your Lord Rannulf will remove him from Birkland and send someone else to oversee the place.”

  “What little I saw of him didn’t impress me, either. ’Tis another reason Lord Rannulf sent me to deliver messages to the overseers of his holdings—he wanted to know how they went on.”

  “’Tis a sensible plan.” Julianna shifted to sit on the low hearth. “And an immense responsibility. Lord Rannulf must trust you very much.”

  Will seemed to be uncomfortable with her words, but he nodded. “I hope he does. I’ve done my best to fulfill his expectations—and my own. I don’t wish to remain a landless knight forever.”

  She doubted he would, since he obviously worked hard to perform his duties.

  He stretched, then winced.

  “Do your wounds still pain you?” she asked. She rose and went to stand behind him, wrapping her arms about him and pressing her cheek to the smooth, strong flesh of his back.

  Will turned within her embrace. “A bit.” He rested his brow against hers while she checked the bandages for bleeding or seepage. “They’re fine, only a little sore—from yesterday’s events, no doubt,” he added with a teasing smile.

  “I’m not surprised,” Julianna agreed. “’Tis a wonder you’re not back in bed, suffering the effe
cts of doing too much too soon.”

  “If I’d the time, ’twould be my fondest wish to climb back into bed—as long as you were there with me.” He swept the tangled mass of her hair from her face. “Though the worst ache I’m suffering at the moment isn’t covered by a bandage, nor would it benefit from that hog swill Dora gave me.”

  Quite aware of just what ache Will referred to—how could she not notice his swollen manhood pressing urgently against her?—Julianna felt a sudden wave of shyness. She focused her attention instead upon tightening the knot of the bandage wrapped about his arm. “What would ease you, then? A different potion, or an unguent?” she teased, trailing her fingers fleetingly over his belly and the rigid flesh below.

  Will caught her hand and drew it away from such dangerous territory. “You, Julianna.” He kissed her fingers, then pressed them over his heart. “You’re all the medicine I need, love. Kiss me and make me whole.” Leaning over her, he cupped her chin in his palm and captured her lips.

  Julianna kissed him back with all the intensity of a perfect moment shared, drinking of his mouth with a hunger she knew only he could satisfy. When Will held her, she felt as though anything was possible, even those things she’d feared.

  He didn’t seem to mind her manner of dress, her habit of wearing sword and dagger, the fact that she commanded Tuck’s Tower. She could even believe it might be possible to share that authority.

  With Will.

  He gave her a gift, something she had learned not to expect from any man other than her father.

  He treated her as an equal, with respect.

  Yet he also treated her as a woman—cherished, appreciated.

  The way he made her feel right now.

  Julianna wished this moment would never end, even as she knew it must. The sun shone full upon them; ’twas nearly time for Will to leave, and for her to go about her usual tasks.

  Before she could break away from him, he grasped her hands and raised them to his lips. “Let me say goodbye to you now, love.” His eyes darkened, the blue intense, his expression solemn, sincere. “I’ll return as soon as I can, I swear to you.” He turned over her right hand, tracing his lips across her callused palm. “And I’ll not leave you again unless you wish me gone. Friend or lover—whichever you want of me, I shall be.”