Igraine

by Jane Godman

  She turned her head to look into his eyes, a frown furrowing her brow. “Uther?”

  The king started to laugh. “How did you know?”

  “Because it was not my husband with whom I just made love.” She blushed. It had been lovemaking not fucking. “It was the most wonderful thing I have ever known.”

  He drew closer, pressing a kiss onto her forehead. “Bless you for that.”

  “But what magic brought you here in this guise? How can you wear Gorlois’ face in place of your own?”

  “You saw the man downstairs, the one with the face of Britael?” Igraine nodded. “He is Merlin. He cast a spell so that I would take on the face of Gorlois, and he would look like Britael. Thus, could we enter Tintagel without challenge.”

  “But where is Gorlois?” Igraine was still confused.

  “Fighting my troops near Bodmin,” he confessed.

  “You came here so you could lie with me while he was away?”

  He caught hold of her hand, pressing his lips to her palm. “Forgive me, my love. I could not wait a moment longer to be with you. Ever since I saw you in London, I have burned for you. Before then, if truth be told. When I knew you were alone here at Tintagel, I had to seize this chance to be with you or go mad with wanting.”

  Didn’t his words describe exactly how she had been feeling? With a sigh, Igraine pressed herself closer to him, reaching up to pull his mouth down to hers. “Since you have gone to all this trouble, I don’t think we should waste any more of this night on words.”

  Chapter Nine

  Uther fell asleep when the dawn came, but Igraine did not. Instead she watched him as he slumbered. He was sprawled on his stomach, with his head on one arm and a slight smile on his lips. His other hand was tangled in the strands of her hair. What now for us? We have made ourselves a child.

  Uther had spoken to her of his dream and Merlin’s prophecy. Of the boy called Arthur, who must be reared by the sorcerer so he could become a great king. She pressed a hand to her flat stomach. The child who will unite this great land. The thought made her proud and fearful at the same time.

  But what of Arthur’s parents? Can we be together? What did that mean for Gorlois, the husband she had never loved? But I wish him no ill. What did it mean for her beloved Cornwall? Cador’s birthright. And Tintagel, her beautiful home? She loved Uther with a fierceness that could move mountains, but that love came with a price that might shatter a kingdom.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft tap on the door. Sliding her hair out of Uther’s grasp and taking a moment to cover her nakedness with a robe, she pulled the door quietly open.

  It was Godfrey. The man’s face was troubled. “My lady, will you come?”

  She cast a glance at the sleeping figure on the bed. “Give me a moment to dress, and I will join you in the great hall.”

  When she descended the stairs, Godfrey was there with Jordan, who had clearly been riding hard and was in some distress. Gorlois’ trusted chamberlain bent his knee before her. “My lady, I am come from the field of battle with sorry tidings. Your husband, the duke, has been slain by the king’s men.”

  Igraine felt the color drain from her face. Clutching a chair back for support, she stared at Jordan. “Can this be true?”

  “Aye, my lady, for I saw it with my own eyes. He fought bravely, as always, but we were heavily outnumbered.”

  Godfrey hurried forward and helped Igraine to a seat. She thought of the man who had dominated her life for the last twelve years. Gorlois was so full of life and vigor, she could not picture a world without him in it. She felt a crushing sensation of sorrow. In his own way, he had loved her, even if he didn’t know it, and it pained her that she had never been able to love him in return. I would not wish him dead.

  She forced her mind back to the conversation as Godfrey started to speak. “There must be some mistake. The duke is upstairs sleeping. He and Britael returned to the castle last night.”

  Jordan looked confused. “That cannot be. Britael was also injured in the battle at Bodmin. He lies there now, wounded and unable to move.”

  Both men turned to Igraine, each clearly seeking confirmation of his version of events.

  “‘Tis true that the duke and Britael did return to rest and take refreshment, but my husband decided he did not wish to be away from his men for the whole night, so they departed again.”

  Godfrey looked as though he wanted to dispute this version of events, but Igraine did not give him time to speak. “My husband rode out with the desire of harming the king. Did his wishes come to pass?” I know, of course, that they did not.

  Jordan shook his head. “It seems the king was not even at Bodmin with his army last night, my lady. His whereabouts are a mystery.”

  Igraine thought of the sleeping figure in her bed and the wildly erotic night she had just spent with the man she loved. Not such a mystery to me. She rose to her feet. “Excuse me. I must be alone.”

  Both men bowed as she made her way up the stairs. Resisting the impulse to run, she hurried to Gorlois bedchamber. Uther was in the same sprawled position on the bed. She shook him by the shoulder and he opened one golden eye, his soldier’s instincts bringing him instantly awake and alert.

  “Gorlois is dead. You and Merlin must leave here at once before your deception is discovered.”

  He sat up, stretching. A wicked smile gleamed. “One kiss before I go.”

  Igraine had a feeling one kiss might lead to another, and perhaps even more, but she was powerless to resist. As she leaned over, Uther pulled her down on top of him. His hands tangled in her hair, as his tongue slid deep into her mouth. He slid a hand under her skirts, over her buttocks, and all the way to the back of her thighs.

  “We don’t have time.” She ground the words out against his lips.

  He tugged the furs and coverlets aside, exposing his huge erection to her gaze. “We will have to make time. I will be unable to ride otherwise.”

  Igraine bit her lip. Surely, she should feel something other than rampant desire when Gorlois lay cold? What would Gorlois have done if I died first? The answer came to her, loud and clear. He would go out and fuck the nearest warm body. The thought was oddly comforting. “I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”

  He laughed, lifting her so she straddled him and could feel him, rock hard and throbbing, against her. “If this is what exhaustion feels like, I’m enjoying it.”

  “We have to be fast.”

  “Fast is exactly what I need.”

  At the same time Igraine lowered herself, Uther lifted his hips, ramming himself into her. They locked gazes and held them as they fucked in a series of furious, deep, hard thrusts. Almost instantly, Igraine could feel Uther building toward a climax.

  He slid his hand down into the cleft between her buttocks. One finger came to rest against her puckered anus, and he pressed against it rhythmically. Igraine moaned and writhed encouragingly against his probing digit. Shock surged through her as he thrust his finger up into her tight hole, driving it in and out. The sensations of him filling her twice drove her wild, and she pumped herself up and down harder.

  “I can feel my own cock through your walls.” His eyes were glazed with lust as he looked up at her.

  The words tipped Igraine over the edge, and Uther groaned as she came hard, pulsing around him. He thrust once more, driving the entire length of his cock into her spasming cunt with a final upward thrust of his hips while her whole body shuddered wildly.

  He buried himself in her and his own orgasm hit. His seed raged through his cock like molten metal, pumping into her, and she tightened her muscles, clutching his shaft like fist as she milked him of every last hot drop.

  She collapsed on top of him, burying her face in his neck until she could finally breathe normally again.

  “Now will you find Merlin and go? There is a back staircase. I will take you that way to the stables. No one will ask questions if you are with me, and if you wear a cloak
with a hood, no one will recognize you.”

  “Very well. But I will return later today.” He smiled into her eyes. “And from now on, when I come inside you, I will be wearing my own face.”

  * * *

  Igraine took her children to stand on the battlements. There she spoke to them of their father and told them that Gorlois would not be coming back. She looked at her daughters, the two girls whose unusual coloring made them stand out. They were unlike her or their father, with their pale hair and skin and dark eyes. Igraine thought they must resemble her own mother—the mother she had never known—in their looks and their otherworldliness.

  Morgan, already known as ‘le Fay’ throughout the castle for her sixth sense, gazed toward the horizon. “I will watch for the arrival of my new father, the king.”

  How can she know these things when no one has spoken to her of them?

  Niniane, usually the silent one, joined her. “Will the sorcerer be with him? The one they call Merlin?”

  “What do you know of Merlin, child?” Igraine regarded her with a combination of amusement and trepidation.

  “Nothing now, but one day I will know much of him.”

  Only Cador, her sturdy boy, showed no signs of having any fae tendencies. He gripped his mother’s hand tightly. “Was my father a good man?”

  How to answer that question? She could not say, “He killed a man just for loving me.” Instead, she said, “He was a fine soldier and a great Cornishman.” And he was not an evil man. Just a man who did not know how to love.

  “Am I Duke of Cornwall now?”

  “You are indeed, my son.”

  “I will be the greatest duke Cornwall has ever known.”

  Igraine looked into his dark eyes and nodded proudly. “I believe you will.”

  Before long, they saw a rider carrying pennant. It bore a golden dragon on its white background. Then the king’s army, with Uther riding proudly at its head, came into view.

  Godfrey came to her in alarm. “My lady, shall we prepare the archers for a fight?”

  “No. Raise the portcullis. We must prepare to welcome our king.”

  When Uther rode into the courtyard, Igraine waited to greet him. He leaped from his horse and, before she could kneel to him, he drew her into his arms. “I have come for you, my Igraine. My queen.”

  Igraine looked up into his amber eyes. “I have loved you all my life. I loved you before I knew you. Can this moment be real? Or is it more magic?”

  He took her hand and held it against his chest so she could feel the warmth of his flesh and the beating of his heart.

  “My love for you has no further need of magic. We will be married on the morrow and nothing will part us again.”

  King Uther Pendragon led his Lady Igraine into the great castle of Tintagel, and the legend of Camelot was born.

  ABOUT JANE GODMAN

  Jane has always loved writing, and for as long as she has been able to put pen to paper she has told stories. As a teenager, she lived in South Africa, where she discovered the novels of Kathleen E Woodiwiss when she was thirteen. With her best friend, Jane used to spend her evenings writing books in the style of ‘The Wolf and the Dove’. When she had a big birthday (let’s just say it had a zero at the end), Jane’s friend gave her the most amazing present. She had kept one of the books Jane wrote when she was fourteen! It’s a medieval romance, written in felt tip pen. Jane describes it as one of her most treasured possessions.

  Jane writes in a variety of genre including paranormal romance and romantic suspense for Harlequin. She also writes steamy historical romance for Samhain publishing and describes her self-published gothic romances are love stories with a creepily ever after.

  In 2017, Jane has a six book paranormal romance series coming out with SMP Swerve featuring some very hit Arctic werewolves.

  Jane loves reading, traveling and spending time with her family (especially her new grandson).

  Find Jane online:

  Website - http://www.janegodmanauthor.com

  Blog - http://www.janegodmanauthor.com/blog

  Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/jane.godman.7

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  Tirgearr Publishing - http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Godman_Jane