His breath caught. She was perfectly formed. Compared to most women she was tiny, though there was nothing child-like about her body. Her breasts were high and small, her waist narrow. The line of her hips was entrancing. All was in perfect, womanly proportions. Eric placed his palm on her hip and swallowed hard as he caressed her. Her skin felt like silk. ‘Rowena..’ His voice sounded choked. ‘The line of you, the curves. I am the most fortunate of men, you are quite lovely.’
Her cheeks were bright as poppies, but she was smiling encouragement, her expression gentle as she watched him learning his way about her body. Trusting. He stroked his hand slowly down her hip; he explored the length of her leg and as his hand worked slowly back to her breast, he savoured the softness of her skin. So smooth. Her eyes were dark. Inviting. In a rush of eagerness, he shed the rest of his clothes. Anchoring her against the pillows, he moved over her.
It shouldn’t have hurt. It wasn’t as though Eric was without experience, he knew his way around a woman’s body. He took his time. He played and smiled and caressed. She caressed him back. Their kisses scorched. Her touch scorched. He waited until he could feel that she was ready, in truth he waited until he could wait no more. Then he positioned himself over her, dotted a row of kisses along her neck and pushed. Her body closed about him. Bliss. He started to move when her gasp, high and shocked, penetrated the sensual haze.
Eric froze. ‘Rowena?’
Small fingers gripped his shoulders. ‘Be still. Please, Eric, give me a moment.’
‘I hurt you?’
Her eyes were holding his, earnest and full of resolve. ‘It will pass, I know.’
Her quiet laugh, slightly flustered, snapped something inside him. He made to withdraw.
Shaking her head, golden tresses flying every which way, she caught hold of his buttocks, holding him in her. ‘No, Eric. Stay.’
Eric’s breath was coming fast, she’d been a virgin. He had no idea how it had happened, but he’d misjudged her. She’d been innocent and he had hurt her. Lord, what had he done?
‘Mon Dieu, Rowena, forgive me.’ He nuzzled her cheek. ‘I am an ignorant fool.’
She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed his mouth. ‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she murmured, pushing her hips ever so slightly against him. ‘Everything is as it should be.’
Slowly, looking deeply into her eyes so he could be sure he gave her no more pain, Eric began to move.
Chapter Seven
‘You were innocent, why didn’t you tell me?’ Eric asked, as he drew the covers over them. Rowena was nestled against his side with an arm about his waist, and he felt bad because she had not had her pleasure. He had been so appalled at having hurt her that he had rushed to the finish and quickly withdrawn. He felt nervous about touching her again. It was most odd, he never felt nervous with women. However, he’d never bedded his wife before. Thankfully, she was still cuddling him. She couldn’t hate him. He hoped.
She lifted her head and he caught her fragrance—summer flowers. Rowena.
‘You led me to believe you had a lover.’
Puzzled blue eyes searched his. ‘No, I didn’t.’
Eric cast his mind back, trying to recall exactly what she had said. ‘You said that you and your squire—’
‘His name was Mathieu de Lyon and he wasn’t my squire. I loved him, but we were never lovers.’ She traced a circle on his belly and his stomach tightened. ‘We were discretion itself. Mathieu said he respected me too much.’
Eric grimaced. ‘I wish I’d known. I rushed you.’
‘You thought I had given myself to Mathieu?’
‘Aye.’ Lifting her hand, he kissed her knuckles. ‘Forgive me?’
‘Of course.’ She gave him one of her sweet smiles and Eric felt himself breathe more easily. ‘Eric, you know it is not wise for an unmarried lady to make a gift of her body out of wedlock.’
‘Naturally, I know that. However, it does happen.’
‘Not in my case. Imagine what Father would say if I presented him with a child born out of wedlock.’ She shuddered. ‘In any case, I thought then I would marry and I wanted to save myself for my husband, for my wedding night.’
Eric ran his fingertips thoughtfully down a twisted strand of shining gold. Rowena belonged to him, she had never belonged to Mathieu de Lyon. The discovery made him feel different—proud and fiercely possessive. ‘I thank you. I only regret that I hurt you.’
‘It was nothing, a little pain is to be expected the first time. I am told there will be less pain the second time.’
Eric grunted and tucked her head against him and let the relief wash through him. They had both been rushed into this marriage. It was a pity he’d not had more time to prepare himself for the role of husband. Luckily, Rowena didn’t seem to have taken against him for allowing desire to get the better of him. He frowned up at the ceiling, wanting to understand how he’d misjudged her so badly. It seemed he had been blinded by need for his delicate little wife.
She shifted her head and continued to draw disturbing circles on his belly. She ruffled the hair on his chest. Eric gritted his teeth and felt the slow throb of renewed desire. Rowena had been innocent. And whilst she was no longer a virgin, she remained inexperienced. She had no idea the effect her caresses had on him, if she did she would surely stop.
He let out a sigh and found himself wondering why Lord Faramus had chosen to give his precious heiress to a low-born knight. Whichever way you looked at it, the count must have hoped for a more auspicious alliance. Holy Mother, he’d had her betrothed to Count Gawain of Meaux! He put his hand over Rowena’s, killing her tantalising—and innocent—caresses.
‘Rowena?’
‘Mmm?’
‘Does your father know about your dalliance with de Lyon?’
‘Certainly not. Mathieu was terrified of Father, so we kept it quiet. As far as I am aware, you are the only person who knows.’
Eric’s heart swelled. Delight in her confession of trust warred with pride at the implication behind her words. He had not been chosen to shield an indiscretion. Her father wanted him for a son-in-law. Tucking her fingers under her chin, he tilted her face to his. ‘So your father really did choose me for your husband.’ He was met with another searching look.
‘He summoned you to Jutigny, didn’t he? He asked you to abduct me?’
‘Aye.’
‘Eric, Father chose you. He has always trusted you.’ Taking his hand, she kissed his palm. ‘Just as he trusts that you will care for his lands one day. And I have to tell you that I am glad that you were his choice.’
Overcome with conflicting emotions Eric couldn’t begin to name, he smiled at Rowena—his wife—and tried to ignore the desire that was throbbing through his veins. He had been too rough with her tonight, he couldn’t press his attentions on her again. She would need time to get used to him. He studied her gleaming hair; the curve of her cheek and nose; the colour of her lips. So pretty. He was surrounded by the scent of a summer meadow, a scent more intoxicating than any wine.
How long should he wait before approaching her again? A week?
Lord, that seemed far too long. A few days?
His heart ached. She ran her fingers over his skin with a sleepy murmur and he stifled a groan. Tomorrow. She would surely feel recovered by tomorrow.
Rowena was fascinated by Eric’s chest. It was so broad and it was wonderful to be able to caress his skin and feel the shape of the muscles she had known lay underneath his tunic. She liked the slight abrasion of the chest hair that arrowed downwards. She wasn’t sure, because she wasn’t bold enough to slide her hand down, but a bump in the sheet hinted that he still desired her.
Smiling to herself, she explored a little further—the strength of his shoulder and arm; the width of his wrist; the warrior’s hands, the
palms slightly calloused from swordplay. As she explored, she learned that Eric was as pleasing to touch as he was to look upon. Her nipples tightened. Experimentally, she shifted against him, smiling as she heard the catch in his breath. Of all her father’s knights, Eric was the finest. And now he was her husband. Linking fingers with him, she glanced at the sheet covering his belly and hummed softly under her breath. Their coupling hadn’t been as painful as she’d expected and she’d been left feeling somewhat edgy. There had to be more to mating with a man than what had just passed between them. The way the Jutigny maidservants used to follow Eric with their eyes—yes, there was surely more...
‘Eric?’
‘Aye? Are you all right, shall I mull you some wine?’
His voice sounded croaky. Good. Pulling his hand to her mouth, she kissed it and listened with satisfaction to another sharp intake of breath. ‘No wine, thank you. But there is something you can do.’
‘Aye?’
‘We ought to try consummating our marriage again.’
A large hand tipped up her head. ‘I hurt you. You are a lady, you need to recover.’
‘I am not made of Venetian glass. We need to be sure.’
He gave a strangled laugh. ‘Rowena, there is no doubt. You are no longer a maid.’ She grimaced and his eyes dropped to her mouth. ‘Rowena?’
She shrugged. ‘I confess to a certain curiosity. I am told it doesn’t hurt the second time.’
‘I couldn’t say. I’ve never had a virgin before.’
‘Well, so I was told. Eric, I am curious.’ She lifted an eyebrow and kissed his cheek. ‘And hungry to know more.’
His expression softened and a slow smile dawned. ‘Hungry?’ He gathered her close and a hand slid purposefully down her buttock. He pressed her to him. ‘We can’t have that.’
She placed another kiss on his cheek and then his fingers were tangling in her hair. His mouth met hers in a kiss that left her in no doubt that he was as hungry as she. They both moaned.
Butterflies awoke in Rowena’s belly; her skin tingled at his lightest touch. And he did touch her lightly, for so strong a man Eric handled her gently. He turned her on her back, gently. He covered her breasts with kisses. Gently. He parted her legs. Gently. He touched her most secret place, with careful, knowing, gentle fingers.
The butterflies danced. Rowena found herself shifting against his hand. Moaning. Urging him on, quite shamelessly. Something lay just beyond reach and if only Eric would...
‘Eric,’ she breathed.
He shifted over her and then they were moving as one and what she was seeking seemed just a little closer.
‘More.’
Gently, he bit her earlobe and reached between them. Touching her, stoking her hunger, feeding it, even as he urged her body to push against his. She moaned and his answering groan had the butterflies dancing and soaring. His touch had them swooping.
Rowena’s heart pounded. She held on to Eric as though for dear life and the butterflies vanished in a blinding pulse of light that had her gasping his name. Eric buried his head in her neck and shuddered to completion. They lay there panting.
Holding her fast, Eric rolled on to his side and gave her a warm smile. ‘Better?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘No pain?’
‘None.’ Lips curving, she hugged him to her. It was extraordinary how safe she felt with this man. How much she trusted him. She truly felt content. ‘Thank you, Eric. I knew there had to be more.’
‘It was my pleasure, I assure you.’
Rowena nodded and sighed and rested her head against his beautiful chest. Eric understood how to make a woman desire him. More than that, he knew how to give pleasure as well as to take it. She was indeed fortunate, not all men understood women so well. And from what she had observed in Champagne as well as in Sainte-Colombe, most men never bothered to learn.
‘Why the sigh?’ A long finger touched her cheek. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing.’ Rowena pushed back her hair, noticed how disordered it was, and shook her head at him. ‘Sir, you have made a dreadful tangle of my hair, it feels like a bird’s nest.’
Reaching out, he ruffled her hair some more and gave her a lazy, sensual smile that had her longing for him all over again. ‘You look perfect to me.’
* * *
At noon the next day Rowena was in the manor hall when she heard the clatter of what sounded like an army echoing around the manor courtyard.
Eric had set out for Jutigny when the sun had lifted over the horizon. By the sound of it, he had brought an entire troop back with him. Rowena hurried out of the hall and stood at the top of the steps.
The yard was alive with horsemen in full armour. Her father’s colours hung from a lance and several of the riders dipped their heads at her in acknowledgement. Her eyes went straight to Eric, who dismounted and handed Captain’s reins to Alard.
Taking the steps two at a time, Eric bowed over Rowena’s hand and kissed it. ‘Good morning, adored one.’
When Rowena felt the surreptitious touch of his tongue and—briefly—his teeth, her wits scattered. ‘Eric, please, we are in company.’ Feeling herself colour, she reclaimed her hand and hid it in her skirts. ‘I see that you have spoken to my parents. You told them of our marriage?’
Straightening, he nodded, deftly unearthed her hand from her skirts, and walked with her towards the hall, swinging it at his side. ‘Of course.’
‘They were surprised?’
‘A little.’ Eric lowered his voice. ‘However, when I explained the circumstances—what happened in the chase and later—they understood. They are anxious for your welfare and have charged me with suggesting that you return to Jutigny without delay.’ He gestured at the troop. ‘This escort is to ensure your safe arrival.’
Rowena bit her lip. ‘You don’t think I am safe here?’
Eric leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. ‘A manor like Monfort cannot compare with Jutigny. Jutigny is a fortress and Lord Faramus has ten times the men that I do.’
A horrible thought occurred to her and she gripped his hand. ‘Eric, you are not sending me away, are you? You are coming too?’
An eyebrow lifted and she saw the golden lights in his eyes. ‘Try and stop me.’ Leaning in, he planted a firm kiss on her mouth. He lingered and murmured, ‘I missed you.’
One of the men let out a whoop. Another tittered.
Rowena’s cheeks scorched and she drew her head back. He was such a tease and she really wasn’t used to it. ‘Eric, behave.’
Eric grinned. ‘I am embarrassing you?’
‘You know you are.’
‘Pity.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘You like it though.’
Rowena opened her mouth to deny it and closed it again. She wasn’t going to lie, she did like having his attention. And the thought that Eric had missed her this morning was warming. She had certainly missed him, the bed had been cold and empty without him. ‘You, sir, are an outrageous flirt.’
‘De Lyon never flirted?’ he asked quietly.
‘Never.’ Mathieu had been far too young and far too inexperienced, she realised. Claims which could not be levelled at her husband.
‘What a fool.’
Rowena stared at her husband, her handsome, outrageous flirt of a husband with sudden insight. Mathieu and Eric couldn’t be more opposite. Mathieu had been sensible. Serious. Earnest. Innocent. Eric was amusing. Charming. A man of the world. And far too handsome.
Guilt rushed at her. This morning it was a struggle to recollect what Mathieu looked like. She had loved him so much yet now she couldn’t recall his face? Heavens, how strange. If she had married Mathieu, she would have been bored to death in a month.
Marriage to Eric, on the other hand, would never be boring. There was so m
uch to do. She would begin by strengthening the bond between them. Eric liked her, of course, and she liked him, but his feelings weren’t fully engaged.
Rowena didn’t view the lack of love as too large a drawback, many good marriages had been founded without love. Besides, not once had she seen Eric in love. He would never allow it. He might charm and cajole, but he never fell in love. Which meant that she must find some other way to strengthen the bond between them. If she succeeded, he would be less likely to turn to others for counsel or company. The thought of Eric taking his pleasure elsewhere made her feel distinctly queasy. When they got to Jutigny, she would ask her mother for advice.
Rowena would teach Eric to take comfort in her and her alone. Until that goal was achieved, she couldn’t be sure that their marriage would succeed.
* * *
Sir Guy was to be given stewardship of Monfort Manor for the duration of Eric and Rowena’s stay at Jutigny. Thus, some half an hour later, Rowena was mounted up in the bailey with her escort, listening with half an ear as Sir Guy stood at Eric’s stirrup, listening to last-minute instructions.
‘The smith is reliable,’ Eric was saying. ‘And he seems to have the ear of the villagers. Guy, I’ve instructed him to report straight to you if the strangers reappear. He has sworn to alert you to any unusual activity in the district. I needn’t remind you that I would like to be told of anything, however trivial it might seem.’
‘Never fear, man, if so much as a twig cracks in the chase, I will send word to Jutigny.’
Eric nodded. ‘My thanks.’
Sir Guy glanced towards the hall where Helvise was waiting by the door, hands folded over her belly. ‘Lord, I almost forgot, Helvise wanted to speak with you before you leave.’
Eric’s saddle creaked as he gestured at Helvise to come forward and Rowena found herself watching his expression with uncommon interest. She was learning to read him, and she saw immediately that there was nothing to trouble her here. Any affection between Eric and Helvise was purely one-sided. Helvise was besotted with him and Eric simply liked the girl. Rowena felt herself relax, it was as though a weight had been lifted from her.
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