Igraine

by Jane Godman

  Gorlois nodded curtly. “As I said.”

  “You sought no audience with me. You have made no request to depart before the allotted time.”

  Igraine held her breath. If Gorlois would bend his knee now, make an excuse, allow Uther to be magnanimous… Her husband did none of those things. Standing tall and proud, Gorlois looked the king in the eye and said nothing.

  Uther descended the stairs and the two men faced each other. They were of a similar height. Gorlois was broader through the shoulders and heavier. Uther’s build was leaner, and he looked to have a swift, sinewy strength beneath his rich doublet and hose. Gorlois’ dark, strong features were in complete contrast to Uther’s golden, leonine beauty.

  “It is my command that you remain until the end of the celebrations.” When Uther spoke thus, he was every inch the king.

  Igraine gripped the oak balustrade tightly. Surely even Gorlois would not refuse such an order? She was wrong.

  “Your pardon, my liege, but we leave now.”

  Uther’s eyes narrowed, making him look even more like a mighty cat. “My friends do not speak thus to me, Gorlois.”

  Gorlois stood his ground, merely inclining his head. Uther’s eyes flickered to where Igraine stood like a statue a few stairs above them. There was regret and something more in their golden depths. She thought there was a promise.

  “If you are not my friend, Gorlois of Cornwall, I must call you my enemy.”

  “So be it, Uther Pendragon.”

  Igraine closed her eyes. Gorlois had thrown down the gauntlet to the most powerful man in the land. Her husband was now at war with the king.

  “Igraine, the horses are waiting.” Gorlois turned on his heel and walked out.

  Igraine made her way down to the foot of the staircase. When she drew level with Uther, she paused, looking up into his face. What she saw in his eyes took her breath away.

  Uther raised her hand to his lips. “This is not over. If I have to fight a thousand armies for a dozen lifetimes, I will win you from him.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tintagel, Cornwall 475 AD

  Gorlois called his best men together, including Britael, his general, Jordan, his chamberlain, and Godfrey, his steward. Matters were grave. The king had taken several of his strongholds and now advanced on Tintagel.

  Gorlois was prepared for battle. “Britael and Jordan, we will ride out to meet Uther, while you, Godfrey, hold Tintagel and protect my family.

  Igraine, who had been sewing quietly by the fire, raised her head at that. “My lord, will you not stay here with us?”

  “No. I mean to meet Uther on the road and kill him before he gets here.” It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that he did not chastise her for her interference. “Fear not, my lady, Tintagel is well fortified against invasion. Uther will never enter this castle.”

  Igraine bent her head over her task once more. However wrong it may be, I want him to enter this castle. I ache to see him again. The weeks since they had left London had been fraught with tension, made worse by her desperate longing for Uther. The king had wasted no time in seeking to avenge the insult dealt him by Gorlois. Within days of Gorlois and Igraine leaving London, Uther had rallied his men and marched on Cornwall, taking Gorlois’ lands and property as he went.

  “My lord, in all seriousness, can we defeat the king’s armies?” Britael asked. “He has ten times our number.”

  “I care not so long as I see Uther Pendragon die.”

  “But, my lord, if Uther dies, the whole country will descend into chaos.” Jordan dared to point out what each of them thought.

  “Silence! I will not be gainsaid on this.”

  My God, is this what I have caused? Igraine’s thoughts were in turmoil as she watched Gorlois ride out at the head of his army. Must my husband or my king die this day because of me?

  The day dragged on endlessly. Igraine spent much of it high on the battlements, watching and hoping for news. But what news? What do I hope to hear? Which pennant do I want to see waving in the breeze as the rider approaches proud Tintagel? The flag of Cornwall or the golden dragon?

  In the end, as darkness fell, she listened to Marigold’s pleas and was persuaded to come and take some food before the fire in the hall. Just as she was about to sit down to eat, there was a commotion, and Gorlois strode into the room with Britael close behind him.

  Igraine jumped up from her chair. “My lord!” What did his presence mean? She placed a hand over her pounding heart. “The king?”

  “No sign of the Welsh dog. We were misled as to his whereabouts. I decided to return here tonight and continue the campaign on the morrow.”

  “I will have them bring food.”

  Gorlois shook his head. “Not here. I would eat alone with you. Have them bring water for bathing and food up to my chamber.”

  Igraine regarded him in surprise. Bathing? This was not his usual habit upon his return. She inclined her head and gave the order to Godfrey, who bustled away to do her bidding. Rising from her chair, she waited for Gorlois to head for the staircase. Instead, he hung back, allowing her to precede him. A slight frown crossed her brow.

  She glanced up at his face in consternation. The smile he gave her in return was so unlike his habitual expression, Igraine almost took a step back. His expression was filled with tenderness and... could that be love she saw in his eyes? Over her head, he glanced at Britael. A silent message seemed to pass between the two men.

  Shaking her head, Igraine moved to the stairs. Her fears made her fanciful. She mounted the steps, aware of Gorlois just behind her. Was it possible her husband had sustained an injury she was unaware of? Something that did not show, but affected his personality? When they reached the landing, Gorlois paused, as if uncertain of his way, and Igraine became even more concerned.

  “Are you sure you are well, my lord?”

  “I am well now I am with you, my Igraine.”

  Sweet words did not fall easily from her husband’s lips, yet these sounded sincere enough. Still puzzled by his behavior, Igraine led the way to his chamber, holding open the door so that Gorlois could enter. To her surprise, he caught her about the waist and swung her over the doorstep, laughing at her expression. Still holding her so her feet were off the floor, he kicked the door closed and pressed his lips to hers. This was unlike any kiss he had ever given her. It was as if he was kissing her for the first time. His hands threaded into her hair, cradling her head as his mouth moved, tenderly kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, before moving to her mouth, and tasting her. Incredibly, she kissed him back as though she didn’t know this man, keeping her hands on his chest for balance. She felt like a rosebud, tightly closed for so long, unfurling in the sweet warmth of his embrace.

  Gently, he locked their lips together with his hand cradling the back of her head, while his tongue caressed hers. It was a long, languorous kiss that left them both breathless. When the kiss ended, Igraine looked up into eyes that should be so familiar to her. Yet her husband’s dark eyes blazed with a golden light that made her think of another man. The man who was about to rip her world apart. What was happening here?

  He drew a shuddering breath, kissed her temple, and breathed in the scent her hair. “Igraine, my Igraine. You are incredible.” He moved his mouth back to hers and renewed his gentle assault on her lips, only stopping when Godfrey brought food and hot water.

  “Will you eat with me?” Gorlois gestured to the table near the fire.

  Igraine nodded and they sat down together. He poured wine for her and cut up her food while she watched him with uncomprehending eyes. This was like the courtship she had never had. They ate in silence, and he seemed content merely to watch her, feasting on her as much as on the food.

  Was there some enchantment at work this night? Had the fae invaded her husband’s body, granting him these new, gentler qualities? A slight smile touched her lips. Whatever it was, when it faded, Gorlois would curse it with the foulest words k
nown to his soldier’s tongue.

  “Why do you smile, my Igraine?” Even his voice sounded different. It was less coarse, finer, and more cultured. Like warm honey, it caressed her, sending a wanton shiver down her spine.

  She shook her head. “There is something different in the atmosphere tonight, my lord. Like the tingle one feels before a lightning storm.”

  He reached for her hand across the table. “You feel it, too?” He pushed his plate aside. “I will bathe now. I would not come to you with the dust of the road on my body.”

  Igraine blinked. Putting her needs first? This was new indeed. While Gorlois undressed, she added scented oils to the hot water with which Godfrey had filled the tub. When she turned, Gorlois stood naked before her. She had seen his body many times, yet tonight he took her breath away. Once again, it was as if she saw him for the first time.

  Perhaps it was a trick of the firelight, but his limbs seemed longer and more slender, the muscles still powerful, but sinewy in their strength rather than bulky. His chest and abdomen were ridged with hard muscle and covered with hair that somehow appeared less coarse. His waist was a contrasting V and his hips appeared leaner. But this is all nonsense! You are imagining things.

  Her eyes dropped lower to his cock, before widening. Gorlois was a well-endowed man whose cock was always ready for action, but this…! If this was a spell, the fae had granted him the one wish any man would ask for. And any woman, she thought naughtily. A bigger cock. A huge, towering erection, red hot and throbbing. She lifted her gaze to his face and saw the golden glow in those eyes once more.

  He stepped into the tub, leaning his head against the back with a sigh. Igraine came to kneel beside the tub, holding a cloth in preparation to bathe him. She had performed this task many times, but sudden shyness overwhelmed her. Feeling like a bride on her wedding night, she smoothed the scented water over his arms, shoulder and chest moving gradually lower.

  Gorlois caught hold of her wrist, shaking his head. “I fear I will become over excited at your touch. When I come, I want to be inside you.”

  When he had finished bathing and came to stand before her, he seemed almost hesitant. No, that was the wrong word, Igraine decided. Worshipful. That was how he appeared as he gazed down at her.

  “May I undress you?”

  When had he ever asked her permission? Usually he would order her to undress herself, tug the garments from her body and cast them aside, or simply haul her skirts up to her waist.

  As if in a trance, she turned her back, shifting the long length of her hair to one side so that he could untie her laces. His fingers lingered on her flesh as they slid her gown down over her shoulders. When the garment lay at her feet, she stepped out of it and moved back to face him. His fingers fumbled slightly with the ties at the neck of her chemise before that joined her dress. Now she wore only her slippers and hose.

  “Sit here.” He led her to the bed.

  Seating her on its edge, he knelt at her feet. Slowly, he removed each item in turn, his fingers caressing her flesh as he did. When she was naked, he drew her to her feet again, and gazed at her for long, breathless moments until Igraine thought she might go mad with anticipation. Finally, he bent his head and tenderly took one nipple between his lips.

  The heat of his mouth was scalding and Igraine wanted to cry out, but the sensations gripping her kept her immobile. His tongue swirled and rasped and his teeth nipped, alternating between one hardened peak and then the next, driving her into such a frenzy she thought her knees might give way.

  As if he read her thoughts, Gorlois—it must be Gorlois, who else could it be?—swept her up into his arms, carrying her over to the fire, and laid her on the wolf pelts piled there. He lay on his side beside her, staring at her as though he wanted to imprint every part of her into his memory.

  “Your breasts are beautiful. So soft, round, and perfect, and to see your nipples swollen and dusky pink from my sucking you makes me want you more than ever.” He seemed transfixed as he gazed at her.

  His words made her tremble. She arched her back, offering herself to him, and his stillness broke. He surged forward, and feasted on her again, nuzzling, licking, and nipping, and then suckling deep and hard as if he was trying to pull her entire breast into his mouth.

  He switched back and forth, making sure he stroked, cupped, and teased one peak when his mouth was on the other. Her groans grew louder, and she squirmed desperately underneath him. He gave her right nipple a final hard tug, before kissing and licking his way down her taut belly.

  Without breaking eye contact, he gently bent her knees, pressing her legs out and down, spreading her wide open to his gaze. He trailed his fingertips along the inside of her leg, stroking ever upward until his hand cupped her mound.

  Igraine shivered and arched her back, pushing against his hand. For a moment, he remained unmoving, watching her as that curious golden light flared in his eyes once more. Then he bent his head and kissed his way up her right leg. Igraine moaned and squirmed as she clawed at the furs with her hands. As Gorlois reached her knee, he also parted her outer lips.

  He lingered at the sensitive area behind her knee, licking her soft skin as his fingers continued to stroke harder and deeper into her wet folds. Moving on, he gently nipped the skin of her thigh and slowly pushed his finger inside her.

  Igraine arched her back and moaned low at the back of her throat, her hips starting to grind against him in rhythm with his strokes. He trailed his tongue closer to his goal until his mouth closed over the exposed pink nub. He suckled her clitoris deeply, stroking it with his tongue as a second finger joined the first and he pushed as deep as his fingers would go into her cunt.

  He continued flicking her with his tongue as he set a steady pace with his fingers. As her moans increased, he responded by increasing the sucking and licking and stroking. Igraine was completely lost to sensation now, her breath coming in little gasps, her head tossing from side to side so her hair spread out over the furs.

  She was so close to her release. The tension was unbearable, growing in time with his strokes. She felt like she would explode if she didn’t get there soon. She was being controlled by this man without being dominated by him. All her sensations came from his magical mouth and fingers tweaking her as she jerked and thrashed like a puppet. Then he paused, his fingers thrust as deeply into her as they would go, his other hand hard on her throbbing nipple, his lips pulling strongly on her nub.

  Igraine’s whole world exploded.

  A high, wailing sound came from the back of her throat as her body spasmed. Her muscles clenched hard around his fingers, and she ground her hips against his mouth. Every cell in her body pulsed to his beat, and she went rigid then collapsed against the furs, breathing hard as her insides convulsed rhythmically.

  Gorlois pulled back and down, leaning over her and rubbing the head of his cock up and down her slit, lubricating it. He placed himself against her opening, and started pushing steadily, staring into her wide eyes. “You were made for me, Igraine.”

  “Who are you?” It was a strange question, but as she gazed up into her husband’s face and prepared to take his cock inside her, it was one that needed to be asked.

  “Look into your heart, for it is there where you will find the answer.”

  He felt so hard, so immense against her. Her whole body yearned and ached for him in a way it had never done before this night. She could feel the heat of him pressing, pushing, and ever so slowly starting to slide within her as she found an anchor for her spinning senses in his eyes. Then he descended and plunged his tongue into her mouth at the same instant he sheathed himself entirely within her, stretching her throbbing channel while his head pounded against her core.

  Igraine shuddered and convulsed, her body already orgasming again, this time around his thick cock. He sucked a swollen nipple into his hungry mouth, and started to move inside her, each stroke eliciting a wild gasp from her. Soon he plunged his full length into her, rearing bac
k before each stroke.

  His only aim seemed to be to go as hard and deep as he could, to somehow fuse them into one with the amazing sensations he triggered. Without breaking his rhythm, he caught up her sprawled legs and wrapped them around his waist. When Igraine realized what he was doing, she pressed her heels into his back, opening herself wider so he could go even deeper.

  Her mind was a haze of physical pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so unbelievably good. Every inch of her tingled, throbbed, and cried out for more of him and this new tender, forceful touch. Even as her body flowered, opening for him and welcoming his thrusts, she wanted more. She wanted him holding her, surrounding her, filling her. Forever. How had she ever felt complete before this night?

  He feasted on her breasts, quenching the throbbing in his cock by driving in and out of her as if he would never stop. He pounded into her as her hips rose eagerly to grind against his. He dragged his lips from her taut, flushed nipple and nipped his way up her neck, timing his bites to match each wild thrust.

  She arched and moaned again, tightening her sheath around him, knowing she pushed him right to the brink and loving her power over him. When he finally kissed her again, his cock erupted inside her at the same time. The sensation of his hot seed filling her pulled her over the edge into a third climax, this one so strong she threw back her head and screamed. They both collapsed, shaking and weak, in each other’s arms.

  Igraine lay sprawled and stunned under his weight, still impaled on his hard, pulsing cock. He had turned her world upside down. She, who up until tonight thought this man had taken her every way he knew how, writhed against him in abandonment, accepting his every caress and reciprocating with enthusiasm. She could barely form a coherent thought for the desire still racing through her.

  Withdrawing from her and turning onto his side, he nuzzled her ear gently. “I think we made ourselves a son this night, my love.”

  Two thoughts, each equally shocking, raced through her mind. First, that he was right. How could he know that? How could she? Yet it was true. She knew it as surely as he did. Their son would be born of that wild lovemaking they had just shared. The second thought was that in all the years of their marriage, he had never called her “love”.