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

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Penelope fought off a grin because he had a very humorous way of speaking when things did not suit his tastes or he was expressing his disapproval. She had seen it before; the man might have been an arrogant and powerful warlord, but he had a comical streak in him that bordered on the dramatic. It was a surprising trait.

  “I did not say I wished to be compared to her,” she clarified. “You asked me if I had ever heard of a queen riding to battle and I told you that I had.”

  He poured himself a cup of wine and drained the entire thing in one swallow. “Hmpf,” he grunted. “No more talk of barbarians in my presence and especially not on the eve of my wedding.”

  “It is my wedding, too.”

  He poured himself more wine. “That is true,” he agreed, downing the second cup. “Therefore, I suppose I should clarify my wishes as we have discussed them. It would make me very happy and proud to have a wife who is an accomplished chatelaine, a wife that would make me the envy of all men. Would you be willing to learn these things, my lady?”

  It was an honest request. After a moment’s hesitation, Penelope nodded. “I will try,” she said. “But on one condition.”

  “What is that?”

  “That you take me hunting sometimes when it is not too much trouble.”

  He smiled faintly. “I would like to do that.”

  “And I would still like to ride and train horses.”

  He thought on that, eventually nodding. “If that would make you happy, I am sure we can come to terms. However, I do not want you training chargers any longer. That is a man’s job.”

  Her face fell somewhat but she agreed. “Very well.”

  He was still smiling faintly as he watched her expression. “May I ask something else?”

  She nodded, staring at her hands. “Of course.”

  “Would it be acceptable for me to kiss my bride on the event of our wedding?”

  Penelope’s head shot up, her eyes wide on him. But, quickly enough, she stilled herself. She knew this time would come, physical contact between the two of them. She hadn’t allowed herself to think much about it because it made her sick to her stomach. She had no idea what to do or how to behave even though her mother had explained the ways of men and women to her. Still, it was a terrifying mystery and not one she wished to explore, but she had no choice. She now belonged to a stranger, a man she barely knew, and he had every right to her body. Nervousness began to overtake her.

  “I… I have a confession,” she said.

  “What is that?”

  “I have never…,” she struggled to find the correct words, “that is to say, I have never even… other than my father, I have never had any manner of contact with a man. Ever.”

  She said it haltingly and Bhrodi struggled to suppress a smile. “I understand,” he said. “But you realize that I have been married before, of course.”

  “Of course,” she repeated nervously.

  He bit his lip to keep from grinning. “Being married, I have indeed kissed a woman before. And more.”

  Penelope’s cheeks flamed a bright red and she lowered her gaze so he wouldn’t see her dull red face. “That… that is to be expected.”

  “I would be honored if you would allow me to lead you through this,” he said as carefully as he could. “I promise I will be very gentle.”

  Penelope truly thought she was going to burst into flames from embarrassment. Her cheeks had never felt so hot. With quaking knees, she stood up and immediately began fumbling for the stays on her gown. Bhrodi stood up and went to her.

  “Here,” he put his hands over hers, stilling her fingers. “You do not have to do that right now. Come sit with me on the bed.”

  Big dress and all, Penelope allowed him to lead her over to the bed that was covered with mounds of furs and linens. He pushed her gently to sit and sat down beside her. Reaching over, he took one of her hands in his big, calloused mitt. It was very warm and soft and he inspected it, turning it over and running a finger over the callous on the palm. Penelope watched him, feeling the newness of his touch with the most electrifying of reactions. She could hardly breathe as he touched her and her mouth ran dry. It was both frightening and exciting.

  “This is something all newly married couples must contend with,” he said softly, studying the shape of her slender fingers. “My mother and father, in fact, met for the first time on their wedding day. At least you and I have had a few days to come to know one another.”

  Penelope nodded nervously. “We were introduced by the beast.”

  Bhrodi laughed softly as he lifted her hand and kissed it. Penelope jumped, feeling as if he had just branded her with his warm lips. But when she settled down, she realized that it had been a tender gesture. He had been very soft and gentle about it; it was her nerves that had caused her to bolt and certainly nothing he had done. Her heart thumped loudly against her ribs and she resisted the urge to ask him to do it again.

  “Ah, yes, the beast,” he murmured. “The serpent that lives in the marsh. It did indeed introduce us and chase your entire family to my doorstep. How fortunate for me.”

  He lifted her hand and kissed it again before releasing it. As Penelope watched, quivering with excitement and trepidation, he reached out and grasped her by the shoulders.

  “Turn around,” he murmured. “Face the fire. That’s a good lass.”

  Penelope did as she was told, facing the fire while he moved up behind her. She could feel his enormous body, the heat reaching out to scald her. It was the most exquisite sensation she had ever experienced, having this man whom she was so tremendously attracted to so close yet not touching her. She hardly knew how to react and her unsteady breathing filled the air. Surely Bhrodi could hear it. She could feel his gentle breath on her shoulder as he began to unfasten the stays of the dress, one at a time.

  “I realize that this is all quite new to you,” he murmured, kissing the flesh of her back as the dress began to peel away, “but I sincerely hope it is something you enjoy. There is no great mystery about it; God created a man and a woman for this purpose.”

  Penelope swallowed hard, trying to bring some moisture back into her dry mouth, as he continued to undo the stays. Her entire body was quivering and the further the dress unfastened, the more she trembled. His kisses against her back were incredibly arousing; with each successive kiss, her heart beat louder. She could hear it in her ears. Coupled with the heavy breathing, she was positive she was going to faint.

  Very carefully, Bhrodi peeled the silk dress away from her body and had her lie back on the bed while he pulled it free of her feet. Clad in only her silk shift and hose, she watched as he draped the big dress over one of the chairs and returned to the bed. When he saw the rather wide-eyed expression on her face, he smiled.

  “No need to be nervous, caria,” he whispered. “I will be as gentle as possible, I swear it.”

  Penelope realized she must look like a scared rabbit so she struggled for some composure. She didn’t like to show weakness but was aware she had conveyed little else since entering the chamber. Therefore, she squared her shoulders with false bravery.

  “I am not nervous,” she lied. “And why did you call me caria? That is not my name.”

  He sat next to her on the bed again. “It means ‘love’ in Welsh,” he said. “If you do not like it, I will not call you that. What should I call you?”

  “My friends and family call me Penny,” she said. “I give you permission to call me that if you wish.”

  “You do not like caria?”

  She smiled with some embarrassment. “It is pretty,” she said. “My mother calls me her love all of the time.”

  “I would like to call you mine as well. You are my wife, after all, and I am already fond of you.”

  Penelope looked at him with surprise. “You are?” she asked. “How do you know?”

  He grinned and reached out, putting his big, muscular arms around her and pulling her against him. She was stiff, startled by
the move, and he could see the anxiety in her eyes. Without another word, his lips descended gently on hers.

  “I cannot tell you how I know,” he murmured against her lips. “But I can show you.”

  Within the first few heated and tender moments of his kiss, Penelope knew she liked it. Already, she liked it and as his kiss grew in intensity, she liked it even more. Wrapped up in his enormous arms, deep within the folds of the first real embrace she had ever shared with any man, she was coming to see very quickly what all of the fuss was about. She was coming to understand why her mother and father embraced frequently, or why her brother and their wives were so affectionate with one another. There was indeed something to be said for such an exquisitely wonderful moment, something that made her heart light with joy.

  As the fire in the hearth snapped and crackled, Bhrodi continued to kiss his new wife, acquainting her with the feel and taste of him. Penelope didn’t even realize that her arms had found their way around his neck; she clung to him as his mouth left hers, kissing a scorching trail across her jaw and down her neck. The sensations were so new and exciting that all she could do was hold on to him as he took the lead, kissing her in places and ways that she had never been kissed. All of it was so fresh and overwhelming, so much so that Penelope began to audibly gasp.

  As Bhrodi’s mouth moved down her arm and began to suckle on her fingers, she couldn’t grasp a coherent thought. Her body was limp and pliable, so much so that he was able to lay her on her back without any resistance whatsoever. He suckled her fingers, her skin, and as she panted and gasped beneath him, he snaked his hands underneath her silk shift and very quickly pulled it over her head.

  Naked. That thought briefly flashed through Penelope’s mind as she lay nude beneath him but for the hose and ribbons still upon her legs. She had always imagined this moment would come with such embarrassment but Bhrodi’s touch had been so exquisitely distracting that Penelope felt no embarrassment at all. He was warm and big and muscular, and he suckled the fingers of her other hand as he yanked off his tunic and breeches. Penelope could really only see his silhouette with the firelight behind him, but when he lay on top of her once more, their flesh against flesh was a searing experience.

  Bhrodi’s lips were on her neck once more and he stroked her arms, moving out until he reached her wrists. Using both of his hands, he grasped her wrists and brought her arms up above her head. Penelope was so wrapped up in the heated sensations he was creating within her body that she was aware he had bound her wrists to the bed well after the fact. Opening her eyes, she looked up and saw that he had tied her hands together and secured them to the woodened post of the headboard.

  Eyes wide with surprise, perhaps a bit of fear, she looked at him only to see him grinning quite lustily back at her.

  “Do not worry,” he murmured. “You will enjoy this, I promise.”

  “But why did you bind me?”

  Carefully, he pulled her legs apart and settled his big body between them. Then, he lowered himself down onto her torso.

  “So that I could do this,” he whispered.

  His hot, wet mouth came to bear on a tender nipple, suckling firmly, and Penelope let out a groan of both shock and ecstasy. Something was unleashed in Bhrodi now; his movements were firmer, quicker, and his hands fondled her full breasts as he suckled her nipples into taut pellets. When his hands weren’t on her breasts, they were moving over her body, feeling her silken skin and arousing her in the process.

  Overwhelmed, Penelope bucked and groaned beneath him as he worked her breasts, feeding from one to the other. She had such beautiful breasts, and an exquisitely beautiful body, and when his right hand moved to the fluff of dark curls between her legs, some primal impulse in Penelope told her to open her legs wide to him. She did out of sheer instinct and he stroked her gently at first, realizing that she was already quite prepared for his body to enter hers. To make it easier on her, he inserted a finger into her.

  Penelope gasped at the sensual intrusion, drawing her knees up as he thrust first one and then two fingers into her, mimicking the lovemaking they would soon be doing. It was an introduction of sorts, a promise of things to come, and Penelope wasn’t afraid. She liked it very much, her body responding in ways she could have never imagined. When Bhrodi finally withdrew his fingers and placed his big, throbbing manhood at her threshold, Penelope didn’t react other than to open her legs wider. It seemed like the right thing to do and she was no longer afraid of what was to come. So far, she liked it very much. She wanted more.

  Bhrodi gave her more as he thrust into her, seating himself fully upon entry because she was so wet and relaxed. It was as if her body was made for him, accommodating him, and he realized without a doubt that this was the most exquisite coupling he’d ever known. There was something magnetic and beauteous and exciting about Penelope. The past few days had seen such a remarkable change in his outlook on life and in how he viewed her, his new wife. At first, he hadn’t even wanted her but now, she belonged to him completely and he would mark her, a more delicious chore he could not imagine.

  Penelope gasped as Bhrodi thrust into her and for a moment, there was a brief flash of pain as her body became accustomed to the intrusion. But the discomfort was quickly gone as he began to move within her, thrusting steadily in and out of her body as his mouth suckled her breasts and his hands fondled her buttocks. Her entire body was experiencing a delight of sensations as his thrusts began to build a sensitive friction between her legs. She could feel it low in her belly, blossoming, reacting every time he moved within her.

  The harder and faster he thrust, the greater the sensation until it suddenly exploded and ripples of bliss cascaded throughout her body. At the same time, she felt Bhrodi give one final great thrust and he grunted, whispering “caria” upon his groans of pleasure. Her body, reacting to his, exploded again in a lesser burst of bliss, but still one that sent her limbs to quivering. When his grunting subsided, he untied the bindings on her wrists and let her arms fall. Carefully, he gathered her up against him, his lips against her forehead.

  “Are you well?” he whispered. “I did not hurt you, did I?”

  Penelope was fairly certain she had swooned because he had to ask her twice before she was able to give him a coherent reply.

  “I am well,” she murmured.

  “I am glad to know that,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Was I gentle enough?”

  “I believe so.”

  “If I ever do anything that does not bring you pleasure, you will let me know.”

  “I am sure you will know before I even have to tell you. I have a habit of reacting before speaking.”

  “I might find a fist in my nose?”

  “That is possible.”

  He snorted softly. Reaching a long arm to the end of the bed, he pulled up a coverlet that had been carefully folded and tucked it in around them both. He still held Penelope tightly in his arms and was quite sure that he would never let her go. The woman had him completely enchanted and he felt such peace at the moment, more than he had felt in over two years. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel this way again, but somehow, it was different with her. It was more intense, a deeper edge of peace. That was the best way he could describe it. He didn’t see an English bride; he hadn’t in quite a while. All he saw was a woman who clearly overwhelmed him. As he pondered that thought, someone pounded very loudly on the chamber door.

  “Bhrodi!”

  Startled right off the bed, Bhrodi was up before he could draw another breath, moving for the door.

  “Who comes?” he demanded.

  “Gwyl!” It was Gwyllim, yelling at the top of his lungs. “You must come!”

  Bhrodi’s brow furrowed and he looked at Penelope, puzzled. She had the exact same expression he did; no fear, merely concern.

  “Why?” Bhrodi hollered, hunting for his breeches. “What has happened?”

  “An attack!” Gwyllim cried. “The English are under attack!”

&
nbsp; Bhrodi had never moved so fast in his entire life. Penelope moved faster.

  CHAPTER TEN

  By the time Bhrodi and Penelope entered the great hall, it was utter bedlam. Bhrodi had tried to keep Penelope in the chamber but, being a trained knight, she wouldn’t remain behind, and most especially if her family was threatened. She threw on her shift and ran out before he could stop her, so he followed her out of the keep, watching her run in front of him with her careful hairstyle unraveling.

  By the time they reached the great hall, it was a shocking sight; swords were out, daggers were flashing, and the entire room was in upheaval. There was blood on the floors. Bhrodi turned to Penelope, putting his big hands on her arms in order to prevent her from charging into the room.

  “Do not enter,” he commanded. “I do not want you injured. I want you to return to the keep, do you understand?”

  Penelope was stricken. “But…!”

  He gave her a brief shake, as if to emphasize his point. “Go back to the keep,” he told her. “I will not say this again. Go back.”

  With that, Bhrodi charged in and started yelling, bellowing something in Welsh. Penelope had no idea what he was saying but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be helping. Men were still fighting with swords, daggers, chairs, and anything else they could get their hands on. As she stood and watched, aghast, an entire bank of tallow candles went flying across the room and crashed into a group of men, spraying hot fat everywhere. Penelope could see her father at the far end of the hall, engaging in a sword fight with a broadsword that was not his own. Since it was a wedding feast, none of the English had been wearing armor or broadswords. They were therefore unarmed as the room was torn apart.

  As much as Penelope wanted to charge in and join the fight, she knew she was in no condition to do so. She was unarmed and it would be a stupid move. Therefore, in complete disobedience of her husband’s wishes, she turned on her heel and ran out into the bailey, heading for the English encampment against the northern wall and noting, as she drew closer, that her father’s foot soldiers were also in some kind of skirmish.