Fearsome Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I have.”

  “I would rather have Gillem serve me than run off to an enemy and have him tell them all that he knows about me, my inner secrets, my tactics, and my men. Nay, it is better to keep Gillem close than let him run amok.”

  She understood, somewhat. “But he does not have good things to say about you.”

  “Then it was him who told you about Sybilla.”

  There was no use in denying it. “He attempted to warn me off.”

  “Did he?”

  She sighed faintly, bewildered. “I do not know,” she said. “All I know is that I will not be your concubine.”

  “I have never said you would be. I have never even used that word.”

  The air was calming between them now, enough so that their conversation was starting to have some meaning once again. Emera’s expression was almost beseeching.

  “Then what?” she begged. “You would not tell me earlier, when we were alone. You flattered me. You kissed me. You led me to believe you were attracted to me but in the same breath you told me you had no intention of marrying. If you want to send me to Netherghyll, then what else am I to be? A trophy from your conquest of Bowes?”

  His gaze lingered on her a moment before looking away. He couldn’t look into her eyes without feeling vastly confused. He knew what he wanted. Why couldn’t he simply tell her?

  “I do not know,” he muttered. “All I know is that I want to protect you from what is to come. I would kill any man who would try to harm you. I want to send you to Netherghyll to keep you safe. Mayhap when the crisis is over and I return to Netherghyll, I will be able to think more clearly. Is that not a sufficient reason for you?”

  Emera could see that he seemed depressed. Confused, even. The man had the weight of a prince of England on his shoulders and when that should have been his focus, he had a woman badgering him about his motives. Aye, she had been badgering him. She knew that. But she also knew she couldn’t go to Netherghyll and wait for him. Once she went there, she was giving him permission to treat her however he wanted to. She wasn’t going to be at his beck and call.

  She would not let him do that to her. She would not let him break her heart.

  “As much as I appreciate the fact that you wish to protect me, I must decline your gracious offer,” she said. “Mayhap it is best that I simply go to the charity hospital as I had originally planned. Before you think me ungrateful or stubborn, please understand that is not my intention. The truth is that I am not your responsibility. As you have said, I am your prisoner. I will not go to your home where you would grow weary of having me as your burden. And what if, by chance, you do marry again? Do you believe your wife would allow you to keep a grown woman about her house? Of course she would not. I would rather not enter into a situation that could be uncomfortable for us both. I will remain here at Bowes until the threat of de Puiset has passed and then you may have a few of your men escort me to the charity hospital in Sherburn.”

  He didn’t like what she was saying at all. “I do not view you as a burden.”

  “Not now, but you may.”

  His frustration was returning. “You do not seem to understand that Bowes will not be a safe place for you. Let me send you and your sister to Netherghyll and then when the threat has passed, we shall… speak on your desire to go to the charity hospital.”

  “Nay. I shall remain here. I will not go to Netherghyll.”

  His frustration grew. “Do you seriously not understand that I am attempting to protect you?”

  They were starting to go in circles now and the conversation was becoming painful for her. He wouldn’t admit to any feelings for her whatsoever. Therefore, Emera was coming to think he had none. It was all in her mind, as she’d reasoned before. She was finished discussing any of this with him because it was futile; he wanted something to play with. She would not allow that to happen. Already, it was tearing at her heart, like claws, knowing that she would have to distance herself from him. Anything else and she might possibly agree to go to Netherghyll simply to be near him. She wasn’t going to be one of those women, so desperate to be with the man they loved that they would be with him under any condition, even the lack of a marriage.

  The man they loved.

  How could she possibly love him?

  “As I said, I appreciate your concern, but it is not necessary,” she said crisply, averting her gaze because she was certain she would burst into tears if she looked at him. “Thank you for informing me of what is to happen with de Puiset. I will set up the great hall so that if you need to evacuate your wounded, you may send them to me and I will tend them. If you will excuse me now, I must see to the meal for the wounded.”

  She moved away from him, heading for the keep entry, and this time he didn’t try to stop her. He watched her walk away, hating himself for being unable to tell her what was in his heart. With every step she took away from him, he felt his resistance being beaten down further and further.

  He wanted her with him. He couldn’t stand the thought of her being away from him. He wanted to see her smile, hear her laughter, and, aye, even spar with her now and again. She was a most worthy sparring partner. Traits that had initially repulsed him were not traits he liked. Great Bleeding Christ, what was not to like about her? He wanted to send her back to Netherghyll because he wanted her safe, so she could be with him for always. Did that mean he loved her? Or he could potentially love her? Was it possible his frozen heart was thawing?

  All he knew was that he couldn’t let her go. If opening himself up to her was the only way to make her stay, then he would have to force himself. That mammoth pride that he carried around had to be pushed aside. If he didn’t, he would lose her.

  “Emera,” he called after her. “Wait. Please… just wait.”

  Emera was nearly to the door. There were tears in her eyes but she dashed them away, unwilling for him to see how upset she was. “Aye?” she responded evenly.

  Juston moved towards her, his gaze on her lowered head. His mouth was dry, his heart pounding, as he labored to bring forth the words.

  “When my wife was alive, I told her that I loved her every day,” he murmured. “I know what it is like to love someone, Emera. I also know what it is like to lose that. I swore I would never let myself feel those unbridled emotions ever again because it was too painful to deal with the loss. I can tell you that I care for you. Aye, I do. I want to learn to love you but I want you to give me that opportunity. I cannot do it in a day, a week, or mayhap even a month, but I am capable of such things. All I am asking is that you give me the chance to unfreeze that which has been frozen in me – that part of me that was a husband once, a father. If anyone was worthy of being loved again, by me, it would be you. But I beg your patience in this matter while I sort this all out in my mind. I have some healing and some growing to do. That is all I am asking – patience.”

  Emera kept her gaze averted as he spoke and the tears she’d so recently dashed away returned with a vengeance. She blinked and they splattered. By the time she turned around to look at him, they were rolling down her cheeks. A smile of the most radiant magnificence spread across her lips as she gazed into his uncertain expression.

  “I am not asking you to love me tomorrow, Juston,” she said hoarsely. “Because I, too, know I could love you given time. I am already very fond of you. If you believe we have a future and your intentions are honorable, then that is all I wish to hear. I will be patient as you have asked. And there is nothing I will not do to make you happy.”

  He smiled in return, with some relief in his expression now. “My intentions are honorable.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Then you will go to Netherghyll?”

  Still smiling, she shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “My place is with you. I must remain at Bowes in case you need me. I can tend wounded and I can help defend the castle. You need help and I intend to give it.”

  He could see there was no way around that. She was de
termined to remain. With a heavy sigh, he shook his head and went to her, wrapping his enormous arms around her and holding her close. He could feel her arms go around him as well and it was the most satisfying feeling he’d ever known. In fact, at this moment, he couldn’t recall ever feeling so content and whole, as if Emera had been a piece of himself that he’d been searching for since the loss of Lizette.

  Certainly, Lizette had been a piece of him as well, a piece that had been lost and, through time, gradually healed over. Emera represented something he never thought he’d feel again and the gratitude he felt, the sheer joy, was unimaginable. Rocking her gently, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

  “You are by far the most frustrating and stubborn woman I have ever encountered,” he said, kissing her forehead again. “But your bravery and your loyalty are truly humbling. Never did I imagine I would ever be so fortunate to have someone so devoted to me.”

  Wrapped up in his arms, Emera collapsed against him, feeling his warmth and strength. It was enough to cause her knees to weaken, her heart so alight with happiness that she never wanted the moment to end.

  “Then you will let me stay?” she asked, muffled, against his tunic.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “I do not believe so.”

  “Neither do I.”

  She giggled and she could hear Juston laughing, low in his throat. It was more of a rumble, really, something that shook his entire body. Lifting her head, she put her hands on his face, gazing up into his eyes.

  “Please believe me when I say I am not trying to be stubborn,” she said quietly. “I simply could not leave you in your hour of need. It is my duty to remain here and help. I would be miserable if you forced me away. I would find some way to return.”

  Juston had to admit that he was very flattered that she would be so determined to remain by his side. This proud, stubborn woman had given him her loyalty and affection. Surely there was nothing more he could want for.

  Except her.

  He wanted her.

  Bending over, he picked her up, gazing deeply into her eyes as he did so. There was so much emotion in his heart that it was difficult for him to find the words, but his expression told Emera everything. Perhaps the man had difficulty speaking of his feelings, but they were there. All she wanted to hear was that they were there and that he felt for her as she felt for him. At this moment, she belonged to him completely and, come what may, she would remain by his side forever. He wanted very much for the opportunity to love her.

  She would give him that chance.

  Emera buried her face in his shoulder, arms around his neck, as he carried her up the spiral stairs to the master’s chamber.

  Entering the chamber, Juston shut the door behind him and when he put Emera onto the bed, this time, she didn’t crawl away or try to hide. Her arms were still around his neck even as he put her onto the bed, as if she was unable to let him go. He was warm and musky, his powerful arms causing her to swoon, and even when he moved to remove her clothing, she didn’t stop him. She couldn’t. It was as if all of her resistance had fled and knowing the man had feelings for her made all of the difference in the world.

  For once, she wanted to be touched and loved. She wanted Juston’s hands upon her. If her taste of him earlier in the day was any indication, she knew that whatever he wanted to do to her, whatever he was planning, was meant to be.

  It was meant to happen.

  Juston was kissing her now, forcing her back onto the bed even as he unfastened the ties on her surcoat. She could feel his hands on her waist, yanking loose the ties as his kisses grew feverish. She might have actually though he was trembling. Was he? Or was she? She was breathing so heavily, trying to catch her breath between heated kisses, that it was difficult to tell. All she knew was that there was something building in her chest, a liquid fire of sorts, that she had no control over. Every time Juston kissed her, the fire grew.

  Panting… gasping… the surcoat suddenly came over her head, followed by the second surcoat that was under it. Then there was nothing left between her and Juston but her lamb’s wool shift, soft and delicate. His mouth left hers, seeking her neck, her collarbone, and points farther south. He was kissing the swell of her bosom with heated lips as his hands snaked under the shift, lifting it.

  Well she remembered his hot hand to her thigh, his flesh against hers, and she was not disappointed with her second experience. It was something she could learn to crave. His lips left her bosom and she could feel him fumbling about, half of his monstrous weight on top of her, still mostly in his clothing. Then his head was underneath her shift, his heated mouth on her belly, kissing and suckling the flesh, and Emera heard herself groan in delight. He dragged his tongue over her rib cage, under her breasts, before finally capturing a tender nipple in his mouth.

  Emera gasped and bucked beneath him, hardly realizing he had pulled her legs apart to settle some of his weight off of her and onto the bed. She had her hands on his head, buried beneath her shift, experiencing his mouth on her breasts with the utmost delight. Sweet Mary, is this what I have run from all of these years? Is this what I was so afraid of, the touch of a man? She felt shameless and wanton, but she didn’t care. Legs spread wide open, she gave herself over to him completely.

  It was a delirium from which there was no return.

  Fingers were touching her private core again, that warm, moist junction between her legs. It was a sensation she had folded to the first time and this time was no exception except the fingers were stroking her, touching her in a way that made her entire body quiver. Juston suddenly bit down on her left breast, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough to cause her some pleasure-pain and Emera felt a big finger as it entered her body, acquainting her with his intimate touch.

  Instead of being afraid of it, she welcomed it. It filled a need in her, somehow, a need she never even knew she had. She rolled her pelvis forward, into his hand, and he put a second finger into her. It was an oddly full sensation but it didn’t deter her. She was enjoying it.

  More kisses, more suckling on her breasts followed as his fingers probed her. Eyes closed, Emera was adrift on a sea of lust when he removed his fingers and she immediately felt a strange sort of emptiness. She needed his touch, for whatever he was doing to her was causing more pleasure than she had ever known to exist. Gentle kisses, intimate fingers. But what came next was something she wasn’t prepared for.

  Her young, nubile body was primed for his body to mate with hers, her woman’s center swollen and primed for his entry. The next Emera realized, his weight came down on hers and between her legs, she felt something full and hot and hard thrusting into her virginal body. She was so slick, and he was so eager, than one full thrust had him nearly halfway into her, breaching her maidenhead. Emera felt the sharp sting of possession but he didn’t give her time to react. He drew back and thrust again, so hard that he drove himself to the hilt.

  Emera was seized with the pain of his thrust and she cried out, her hands biting into his arms as he braced himself over her. But his mouth covered hers, suckling her, kissing her deeply, as he coiled his buttocks and thrust into her again and again, a steady rhythm building. The pain that Emera had felt was quickly dulled, replaced by a sensation she could hardly describe. Where their loins came together, a fire had ignited and she swore she felt the sparks every time they came together.

  “Juston,” she breathed. “Please… Sweet Mary, we cannot….”

  Juston wouldn’t let her talk. He continued to coil his buttocks, thrusting into her, as she clawed at him.

  “This is how we were meant to be,” he breathed, biting gently at her lower lip. “Give me a son, Emera, and I shall never deny him. I swear to you that I shall belong to you and only you, forever.”

  She groaned softly as he plunged deeply into her, grinding his pelvis against hers, causing sparks to fly in earnest. When he did it a second time, she felt an explosion in her loins the likes of which she had n
ever experienced before, tremors radiating throughout her body and exploding through her mouth with a cry.

  After that, she remembered little. Dazed, her body was rocked by Juston’s continuing thrusts until he took one hard, final thrust and she heard him grunt as he released his seed deep into her womb. But Emera continued to lay there, in a stupor, her arms around his neck, holding on to him so tightly it was as if she was afraid to let him go. She could feel his body weight atop her, his lips by her ear. His steady breathing filled her brain. It was enough to lull her into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  When she finally awoke some time later, it was to an empty bed, a stoked fire, and bread and cheese on the nearby table.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Auckland Castle (manor house, seat of the Bishops of Durham)

  The reception room of Auckland Castle was a vast and lavish forum, resplendent with furs upon the floor, imported tapestries on the walls, and braziers placed around the room that not only burned peat to stave off the chill, but incense to give the room a smell like those in the bathhouses of Rome. Expensive myrrh and sandalwood filled the air which, combined with the smoke from the braziers and the open flame in the enormous hearth that serviced the chamber, created a nearly unbreathable layer that hung heavy in the room. It choked the throat and burned the eyes.

  But it was meant to display the wealth of the owner. Auckland Castle was really a fortified manor, a very large and opulent residence, for the Bishopric of Durham and the reception room, or great hall, was the throne room. There was, in fact, a throne at one end of the chamber, a magnificent piece of carved wood that had been brought to Auckland all the way from Rome in the back of a wagon that had taken thirteen months to make the trek. It was the chair of the man who ruled the See of Durham with powers given to him by the pope and by God, and Hugh de Puiset took those powers very seriously. He used them for everything he could get his hands on.