The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Blayth cast him a long look. “I am not so sure now,” he said. “I cannot have my marriage rite performed by a priest who is sanctioned by Satan.”

  Jestin chuckled. “I promise that Satan will not enter into this,” he said. “I am glad you wish to marry the lady, even though she has a tongue of fire. You will have to douse that fire, Blayth.”

  Blayth shook his head. “I do not want to,” he said. “What that woman has done in her life… she is fearless and brave as few men are. She is as strong as the mountains and then some. Nay, I would not douse her fire. I worship it.”

  Jestin thought it was a rather sweet sentiment, something rarely heard these days. He’d not often come across men who spoke so highly of their women. He pointed to the vellum on the table, with his neat writing on it.

  “You told me the story of Blayth the Strong on the evening you arrived, when the demon cider loosened your tongue,” he said. “I am writing it all down, by the way. It is a tale of great heroics. But you shall have to tell me the story of your lady if she is so fine and strong.”

  “She is,” Blayth said. “But I am not sure I want to share that story. Mayhap the story of the Dragon Princess is just for me.”

  Jestin’s eyebrows lifted. “The Dragon Princess?” he said. “I am intrigued. Then that would make you something of a dragon tamer.”

  Blayth shook his head. “Do not let her hear you say that,” he said. “She would not like it.”

  Jestin lifted his shoulders carelessly, as a man does when he is too foolish to be frightened by a woman. “It is not for her to know, is it?” he said. “She is brave, you say?”

  “Like you have never seen.”

  “She does not dress like a lady. She dresses more like a warrior.”

  “That is because she can fight better than most men.”

  “But she is a princess?”

  “Rhys Gryg is her grandfather,” he said. “Her great-grandfather was the last King of Deheubarth.”

  That meant something to Jestin, who was suitably impressed. “Then she is, indeed, a Dragon Princess,” he said. “And you wish to marry her?”

  “Aye.”

  “What of her father? Does he give his permission?”

  Blayth didn’t want to have to explain the entire situation, so he lied about it. “He is dead,” he said. “She has no one but me, and I intend to marry her. She deserves to be worshiped and tended as only I can.”

  Jestin didn’t push him on the subject; he was coming to like this slow-speaking but witty man who spoke so fondly of his lady. “Very well,” he said. “When do you wish to marry her?”

  “Today. Now, if we can.”

  Jestin nodded thoughtfully. “Two acolytes will be here at noon to help me with Sext, the mid-morning prayers for the faithful,” he said. “I will perform the marriage rite before Sext and they shall witness the ceremony.”

  Blayth was satisfied. “My thanks,” he said. “I shall pay you for your service.”

  Jestin turned to him, a shrewd twinkle in his eye. “I do not want your money,” he said. “I want you to tell me of the story of the Dragon Princess.”

  Blayth had to grin at the man; he was persistent. After a moment of debate, he finally relented.

  “If I do this, you cannot tell her,” he said.

  “I will not say a word.”

  “Are you going to write her story down as you’ve written mine?”

  “Of course I am. I told you that I am the Keeper of legends.”

  “Then do it after we have left, please. I should not like for her to know.”

  Jestin agreed. For the next two hours, he heard Blayth tell him what he knew of Asmara and of her brave breach of Llandarog Castle.

  It was everything Jestin hoped it would be.

  Dressed in a dark green woolen tunic that went to her knees, with her leather breeches beneath it, Asmara became Blayth’s wife as they both stood at the entry to Jestin’s church beneath a canopy of oak branches, swaying in the gentle wind.

  It was right before the noon prayers and two boys from the village were witnesses as Jestin performed the marital rite. The younger of the boys picked his nose through the entire ceremony, right in Blayth’s line of sight, and he found it very difficult not to make threatening faces at the child at the terrible display of manners.

  He focused on Asmara instead, on her lovely face as she gazed up at him with a mixture of adoration and excitement. Her pretty hair was braided and draped over her right shoulder. Even though she wasn’t dressed in fine clothing, she couldn’t have been more beautiful to him had she been wearing silks and jewels. He smiled at her the entire time, taking his vows, feeling his connection with her down to his bones. She was embedded in him, the strength of their feelings for one another more powerful than anything he’d ever known.

  The day he realized she meant something to him was the day he began a life he never thought he’d have, something sweet and loving and kind. He was a man who had been born at least twice in his lifetime, but with Asmara in his life, he felt as if he was being born yet again. When the rite was over, and Jestin finished praying, Blayth took Asmara in his arms, being very careful of her left shoulder, and kissed her.

  It was the best kiss of his life.

  Shortly after the kiss, they could see villagers arriving for the nooning prayers, so he took Asmara back to the residence and closed the door, bolting it. He was fairly certain that Jestin wouldn’t disturb them, at least for a couple of hours, and he very much wanted that time alone with Asmara. Once he finished bolting the door, he turned to find her standing behind him rather expectantly.

  He grinned sheepishly.

  “I have good news,” he said.

  She cocked her head curiously. “What is it?”

  A somewhat seductive expression spread across his face. “I have taken a wife,” he said, “and I am a better man for it.”

  She laughed softly. “And I have taken a husband,” she said. “To be truthful, I never thought I would. I still can hardly believe it. What man wants a wife who can best him in a fight?”

  Blayth went to her and put his arms around her, kissing her soft mouth. “Me,” he whispered. “Let me prove it.”

  Asmara could only nod her head, the flames of lust consuming them quickly as they so often did when they touched. But this wasn’t the stables of Gwendraith, where they had to hide in the darkness, concealing their desire from others. Now, they were in the proper place at the proper time, and nothing was going to stop their passion.

  Now, they could explore their feelings for one another without reserve.

  Blayth could think of nothing else. Although extremely mindful of her wounded shoulder, he wasn’t going to let it get in his way of expressing his love for his new wife. God, he loved her with everything he was, with every heartbeat that pulsed through him. She was like air and water to him; he needed her to survive. Now, she was finally his.

  He would wait no longer.

  His kisses were tender at first, gentle upon her lips and jaw. He was so very gentle with her. But quickly, they grew heated, and more powerful, and he swept her into his arms and carried her into the chamber with the tiny cot. It was all they had for what they needed to do, but it would be enough.

  Carefully, he began to remove her from her clothing, untying the fastens on her tunic as his kisses distracted her from the fact that he was slowly undressing her. As he’d discovered in the stable of Gwendraith, she was easily distracted by his kisses and he used that to his advantage. All he wanted to do was get the woman naked and beneath him where he could feel their flesh touching. Nothing else seemed to matter. He had to claim her in every possible way.

  But she seemed to be hesitant even though his kisses were powerful, and he remembered from their time in the stable that it had been dark then, perhaps somehow giving her a false sense of modesty. Quickly, he left her and went to the only window in the chamber, closing the shutters so that it was darker in the room and they had more p
rivacy. He wanted her to be comfortable and that action seemed to ease her a great deal. In the dim light, he lay her down on the small bed and continued.

  There wasn’t much room for him to lay beside her so he had to half-cover her with his body. For a man with no real memory of ever having coupled with a woman, because he’d never bedded one in the time he had been with Morys, he was acting purely on instinct, or so he thought. Perhaps there were some latent memories driving him, because he seemed to know exactly what to do. In the shadowed room, he resumed his kisses as his hand snaked underneath her tunic and onto her warm, soft belly. He remembered that belly, silky and smooth, but his hand immediately went to her breasts as his mouth found her sensitive earlobe and suckled.

  Asmara gasped at the overload of sensations, something that turned her limbs to mush. Blayth felt her relax and he was able to lift the tunic over her head, immediately moving to strip her of her breeches as well. In nearly the same motion, he ripped off his own clothing, tossing it into a heap on the floor.

  The moment his naked flesh touched hers, he knew he was lost.

  Blayth wedged his knees between her slender thighs, his fingers moving to the dark curls between her legs as his lips found a tender nipple. Asmara twitched and groaned as Blayth suckled strongly, reacquainting himself with her delicious body. When his finger slipped into her, there was no discomfort; she was slick, her young and powerful body ready for his throbbing member, ready to accept the destiny of a woman.

  There was no pain and no fear… only passion.

  Asmara’s pants of pleasure were beginning to echo off the walls. Blayth inserted another finger into her, listening to her groan as she lifted her pelvis to him, seeking more of his touch. His tongue lapped at her nipples and he could feel her slick passage contracting around his fingers, a physical response to the ritual of mating. It was her body demanding his, whether or not she knew it, and he would answer the call.

  Blayth removed his hand from her, no longer capable of pacing himself. He was trying; genuinely, he was trying, but her soft body was demanding him and he shifted his bulk, placing his heavy arousal against her and thrusting gently. He slipped into her without effort.

  Her body was drawing him in, deeper by the moment. Asmara gasped at his intrusion, her pants of pleasure less evident as he gained headway. Blayth kissed her deeply, murmuring against her mouth and promising the pain would only be momentary. The further he moved into her, the more uncomfortable it was becoming, and he knew he could wait no longer.

  Gathering her tightly against him, Blayth drew back and coiled his buttocks, driving into her. He couldn’t be sure he breached her maidenhead, because Asmara had spent her life in strenuous activity, including riding horses astride, so it was quite possible that she didn’t even have one. But it didn’t matter; from her reaction, he knew she was virgin. There was no doubt. When she yelped into his mouth, it only confirmed what he already knew. Holding her close and seated deep inside her, he could hear his own gasps echoing off the walls.

  Blayth didn’t wait to give her pleasure. Cupping her heart-shaped bottom with one hand, he began to move. Within the first few thrusts, Asmara groaned, feeling uncomfortable and overwhelmed. But his gentle whispers broke through her haze and she instinctively began to respond to him, experiencing the friction of his manroot as he penetrated deep. The discomfort soon gave way to a blossoming fire that grew brighter by the moment.

  Now, the spark that had existed between them from the beginning was finally allowed to blaze.

  Asmara lay beneath him, her long legs parted and his big body pounding into her, experiencing every thrust, every withdrawal, with a pleasure she could never have imagined. There was something so deeply intimate about it, yet so deeply strong. He never stopped kissing her, or gently touching her with a free hand, the entire time, as if worshipping everything about her in the most powerful way possible. Every time their bodies came together, Asmara swore she could feel the sparks shooting up into her belly. The harder he drove into her, the more brilliant the sparks.

  Blayth, too, was feeling the sparks shooting through his body as he felt his climax approach. She was so tight around him, so slick, that it was pleasure beyond all human comprehension. It felt like seconds, but it was actually several long minutes before he finally reached his peak, breathing her name as he released himself deep. Even so, he continued to move, feeling the slippery wetness he had put into her.

  It was heaven.

  Asmara felt his spasms, hearing her name in his strangled groan. But his thrusting continued as he reached between their bodies, his fingers probing her wet curls. A gasping scream erupted from her lips as he gently pinched her pulsing nub of pleasure, bringing her to the first release she had ever experienced. Waves of pleasure consumed her as her body twitched and rocked, and Asmara was vaguely aware of Blayth’s soft laughter.

  “So you like that, do you?” he breathed, his fingers still between her legs, touching her where their bodies were joined. “I shall have to remember that.”

  Whatever he was doing to her caused her to climax twice more, her entire body bucking with the pleasure he was bringing her. He was still embedded in her, still moving, stroking in and out of her as she experienced something more intimate and glorious than she could have ever dreamed.

  The mating of a husband and a wife.

  Finally, she put her hand between her legs to stop him because she was growing flushed and faint. It had all been so terribly overwhelming. When her fingers stilled his, he laid his head on her shoulder, dropping gentle kisses on her flesh.

  “What is not to love about you, my lady?” he whispered. “From now until the end of time, I will love you and only you.”

  Asmara’s breathing slowed and she opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling and feeling Blayth’s weight on top of her. He was still in her, too, for she could feel his male member twitching and throbbing, as if it had a life all its own. It had been such a beautiful and overwhelming experience that tears trickled down her temples. Bringing up her legs, she wrapped them around him, holding him tightly against her.

  “And I shall love only you,” she murmured. “You are my husband, my love, the man I adore. Tell me that this is only the beginning, Blayth. Tell me that our life will always be filled with such wonder.”

  He lifted his head to look at her, seeing the trail of her tears down to the bed. Gently, he wiped them away.

  “It will always be filled with such wonder,” he promised.

  She turned to look at him. When their eyes met, all the words in the entire world weren’t enough to describe the beauty of the moment. What they were feeling went beyond words.

  It went beyond love.

  Finally, they were one.

  When Jestin finished with the noon prayers, he never even tried to return to the residence where the newlywed couple had retreated. Something told him he wouldn’t get past the door, anyway.

  Heading to his tower room, he sat down at his table beneath the window and continued his story about Blayth the Strong, finishing the legend as told to him by the very man it was based upon. Only in this legend, he added the tale of the Dragon Princess and how she and the Welsh hero had fought for freedom against the English in a small valley in southern Wales.

  By the time he finished the tale, even he was coming to believe that the two of them were something beyond heroic.

  They were the stuff of legends.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Carmarthen Castle

  “Papa, promise me that I can go with Asmara,” Fairynne begged. “You sent me home after Llandarog and it simply wasn’t fair. Why should I have to go home while Asmara is allowed to fight?”

  It was the gathering of the great houses once again at Carmarthen Castle, with Howell calling forth those who had taken the castles of Idole, Gwendraith, and Llandarog because there was a new push coming, something he needed all of his men for. It was the moment Morys had spoken of, and that had been planned for, and Cader was
there, as was Fairynne, mostly because her father couldn’t keep her away. She’d followed him – again – and now she stood next to him, as annoying as a gnat.

  When she buzzed too much, he swatted her, which was what he did when she started begging him about being allowed to return to Gwendraith with her sister. Fairynne yelped and rubbed at her bum unhappily, but she shut her mouth. Swats from her father weren’t meant to be disobeyed.

  As Fairynne stewed, Cader was keeping an eye out for his eldest daughter with the party from Gwendraith. It was later in the afternoon, and most of the larger houses had already arrived, but Morys and the men from Gwendraith hadn’t yet appeared. When the Brondeifi men from Lampeter arrived, men who had served directly with Rhys ap Maredudd, Cader decided to retreat into the great hall of Carmarthen where the men were starting to gather.

  Howell was in the hall, as were his teulu, and at some point, the discussions would begin, if they hadn’t already. Not wanting to miss anything, Cader headed for the gathering, but he was quite sure Morys would be very loud when he arrived and upset if the discussions started in earnest without him.

  With Fairynne tagging after him, Cader entered the cold, dusty great hall and skirted the edges of it, making his way around the gathering groups and towards Howell, who was near the feasting table, in nearly the same place he’d been in the first big meeting they’d had those weeks ago.

  The hall looked the same, only more run-down and dirty, and the broken feasting table was still broken. Even so, as Cader moved around the side of the hall, now holding Fairynne by the hand so she wouldn’t get separated from him, Howell climbed up onto the table and lifted his hands for silence.

  “My friends, my allies, you honor me with your presence yet again,” he said. “We have much to discuss, so please quiet your conversations.”

  The buzz in the hall died down as men began to turn in his direction. Cader came to stand next to Hew, and the two men acknowledged each other silently before turning their attention to Howell, who seemed to be looking around the chamber as if counting heads. In fact, that was exactly what he was doing, making sure everyone of importance was present, but he seemed rather confused. When he noticed Cader standing below him, he spoke.