“We were just married at St. Clements,” he told Gallus. “It is my intention to send my wife back to Isenhall with Jeniver while we continue on to London.”
Gallus nodded, watching Tiberius as the man continued to act the fool behind Maximus’ back, much to Courtly’s amusement.
“Agreed,” Gallus said. “She will be safe there. As you can see, we have accomplished a great deal since we arrived back in Oxford yesterday. All of the men we brought with us to Oxford are mobilized and I have sent word to Isenhall for another four hundred. They have orders to move swiftly and meet us at Braidwood Manor in London, de Russe’s place.”
Maximus nodded. Hughston de Russe was part of the de Montfort ally network and his home outside of London, big and fortified, was usually where de Montfort’s supporters gathered. It had become their unofficial headquarters. It was clear that the entire de Shera contingent was ready and waiting for Maximus. He was the lone straggler when usually, he was the first one ready to move.
Today, however, he didn’t care about that. He could only think about the fact that he was soon to leave his new wife. Even though he knew he had to go, and he’d known it for some time, it wasn’t sitting well with him.
“When do we leave?” Maximus asked reluctantly.
Gallus eyed Courtly, but now for a different reason. He cleared his throat softly. “How soon can you be ready?”
Maximus knew what he meant. He glanced at Courtly, seeing her laughing at Tiberius, and he sighed faintly.
“Give me an hour,” he said softly.
Gallus nodded, watching as Maximus, aware of Tiberius’ antics behind him, lashed out a big fist and caught his brother squarely in the chest. As Tiberius grunted and, laughing, nearly fell to the floor, Maximus took his wife by the elbow.
“I will meet you down here in an hour,” he told Gallus. Then, he turned to Tiberius who was rubbing his chest where his brother had slugged him. “When my wife left last night, she left her possessions behind. They should be in Gallus and Jeniver’s chamber. Will you please retrieve them and bring them to me?”
Tiberius nodded but Gallus spoke. “Jeni is sleeping right now,” he said. “She has not been feeling well since yesterday. Can it wait until she awakens?”
Maximus nodded, as did Courtly. “Please do not disturb her, Lord de Shera,” she said. “I can wait.”
Gallus smiled at Courtly. “You will please address me as Gallus,” he said. “You needn’t be so formal with me. We are family now, after all.”
Courtly nodded her head gratefully, humbled by the acceptance she was being given by these men who, quite possibly, would have to defend that acceptance against her crazed father when he found out what she had done. But no one seemed to care, and certainly no one had mentioned it. As Gallus had said, they were family now. And family defended and protected family, no matter what the circumstances.
With that, Maximus took his wife to the second floor chamber he had shared with Tiberius. It was the very first door at the top of the stairs and he shoved the sticky door open, revealing a rather small and messy chamber. There were two small beds, both of them jumbled and messy, and there were various things on the floor – a worn tunic, dirty hose, a pair of boots. In fact, Courtly tripped over a boot as she entered the room and Maximus kicked it away from her.
“Ty lives like an animal,” he said. “I apologize for the state of the room.”
Courtly grinned at him. “Isadora lives the same way,” she said. “You should see our chamber at home – clothes, poppets – all manner of clutter. She likes to pick flowers but she feels terrible for throwing out old, dead flowers, so we have that issue to deal with as well. There are dried weeds everywhere.”
Maximus smiled as he reached out and unfastened her cloak, pulling it off and revealing the lovely lavender dress beneath, which, in spite of all of the travel it had seen, was wearing very well. It also hugged her figure quite deliciously which reminded Maximus why they had come to the chamber to begin with. He had something to accomplish and not a lot of time with which to do it. As he lay the cloak on one of the beds, he spoke.
“I am afraid there is no tactful way to approach this subject, so I hope you will not be upset if I simply come out with it,” he said as he turned to her. “Since I am leaving for London very shortly, there is the matter of consummating our marriage. We must do this so your father cannot ever separate us and if we do not consummate it now, I do not know when we will be able to. Therefore, it must be done before I leave Oxford. I wish I could take all of the time in the world with this, Courtly, and not rush it or make it seem so… cold… but the fact is that it must be done now. I am sorry if that seems uncaring.”
Courtly wasn’t upset by the realities of marriage. In fact, she was rather curious about the entire process. She was also a woman not given to ridiculous fears and had already shown her mettle for bravery. Therefore, she simply nodded her head as she sat down on the bed behind her.
“I understand,” she said. “You needn’t apologize. But I will admit that I know very little about what to do. My name may be Courtly Love, but the truth is that I am a virgin in every sense of the word. The first time a man kissed me was when you did it yesterday. Of course, I know the mechanics of mating. That is to say I know what is supposed to happen and what the results are, as Lady d’Umfraville made sure to educate her wards on such things, but beyond that… I will have to depend on you to tell me what to do.”
Maximus was rather relieved that she was looking at the situation so calmly, but on the other hand, he wasn’t surprised. Courtly had proven herself to be calm and resourceful since he first met her, something he was very much coming to appreciate about his new wife. The fact that she wasn’t a hysterical female spoke volumes to him. He sat down on the bed beside her and began removing his boots.
“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “It is one of those situations where you let instincts take the lead. I think your body will know what to do even if your mind does not.”
Courtly pulled off her slippers because he was removing his shoes. It seemed like something she should do. “You have done this before?”
Maximus cleared his throat somewhat nervously. “Aye,” he said. “I have had to. It would not do if neither of us knew what to do, would it?”
Courtly thought it humorous to see the man uncomfortable. “Who has taught you what you should know?”
He lifted his eyebrows, hoping he could bluff his way out of the question. “Too many women to count,” he said flippantly. “Why do you ask such questions, anyway? Do you really want to talk about my experiences with other women?”
Her smile faded. “Have there been other women?” she asked. “Someone… like me? Someone you were fond of?”
Maximus thought back to his first love, that flame-haired lass of fourteen he had been so very caring of. He shrugged. “She was fourteen,” he said. “I was seventeen. It was a very long time ago.”
Courtly smiled at the thought of young Maximus in love with a sweet young girl. “Why did you not marry her?”
He shook his head. “My father sent her away,” he said. “She was not of my station. It was not meant to be.”
Courtly thought she detected something sad in those words. “I am sorry,” she said softly. “It must have been painful.”
Maximus looked at her, studying her face, the delicate lines of her jaw. He drew in a long, contemplative breath. “At the time, it was,” he said. “I was young and impressionable. But it was a young love and nothing more. When I look at you, I am not sorry in the least that nothing ever came of it. Had I married her, I would have never known you.”
Courtly smiled sweetly at him. “You may have known me,” she said, humor in her tone. “I may have still fallen out of a window onto your head, but you would have already been married. God’s Bones, what if I had married Tiberius instead? Although your brother is handsome and strong, I would have spent the rest of my life lusting after his brother. After you.”
Maximus was torn between being wildly jealous over the thought of her marrying Tiberius and the thrill of her declaration of lust. He settled for the lust. Reaching out, he gently stroked her blond head, digesting this woman who was now his wife. He could still hardly believe it.
“Then it was fate that sent her away those years ago and not my father,” he said softly. “What I felt for her was something young and giddy. What I feel for you is something deep and abiding. I do not know how it is possible to love someone so strongly after only a few days, but I do. You have embedded yourself into my very soul, Courtly. Whatever the future holds and whatever comes, know that you have all of me, forever.”
Courtly was listening to his words, bewitched by them. Everything about the man was filling her, reaching in and anchoring itself deep. His hand on her head was soft and gentle, yet the heat from his palm was causing her heart to race. She remembered the kiss they had shared earlier, the flames of new and awakening desire that had licked at her. His bearded lips had been wildly exciting, more than she could have ever imagined. She found herself leaning into the hand on her head, watching his mouth as he spoke.
“Max?” she whispered.
His hand had moved to her face, his rough fingertips brushing over her lips. “Aye?”
“Kiss me like you did earlier. Kiss me again but this time, do not stop.”
Maximus didn’t need any further prompting. Her murmured request had him on fire and he cupped her face in his two enormous hands, bringing her lips to his. When he slanted over her mouth, it was hungrily, as he had never before kissed a woman until this moment. Everything he had even known about a woman, the feel or taste of one, was gone. It was as if she were the first and only, so strong his passion. As his tongue began to lick her, begging for an invitation into her warm, wet mouth, his hands move from her face and went to work on her clothing.
The lavender garment that he had purchased for her seemed to disintegrate under his hands and he had no idea why. He didn’t think he’d pulled that hard on it but he failed to remember that it had only been loosely basted. The truth was that he didn’t care much and even if he had remembered, it wouldn’t have made a difference because he was quite eager to remove her from her clothing. Courtly didn’t resist him. When he tugged on something, she helped him pull it off.
In little time, the shift came off as well and in the dim light of the chamber, Maximus found himself gazing at his wife’s perfect, nude body. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so utterly arousing but as he moved to pull her against him, he realized he was still wearing his clothing and, almost frantically, it began to come off.
The tunic went over his head and he tossed it to the ground, simultaneously untying his breeches. He had to let her go in order to yank those off and they ended up on the floor alongside the tunic. In all his naked glory, he turned back to Courtly only to see that she was sitting on the bed trying to cover her chest with her slender arms. She seemed rather embarrassed, and probably cold, and he felt guilty that he hadn’t been more considerate of her. This was her first time, after all, and even though she was a remarkably brave woman, she still had her limits of bravery. Rather than try to move her arms, he simply pulled her into a tight embrace and covered her, shielded her, with his big body.
He literally could not wait to get the woman on her back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman, a paid woman to satisfy a man’s needs, so his arousal was very stiff and almost painful. Even his testicles were inflamed and swollen, as tight as cat gut, so he eased Courtly down onto the bed with the intention of burying himself in her tender folds as soon as he possibly could. She was compliant and his tender kisses helped a great deal. At least she had unwound her arms and now her naked breasts were against his broad chest. Maximus could feel them, soft and round, and it nearly threw him over the edge.
Once he had her on her back, his hands began to wander. He went straight for her beautiful breasts, listening to her gasp with surprise when a big hand closed around one. She even stiffened up in his arms, fearful of the new sensation, but he worked her breast gently but firmly, toying with her nipples until she began to relax underneath him again. He was fairly certain she was enjoying it from the kitten-mewling sounds she was making. But those sounds were driving him mad with lust. His roving hands move lower.
Her skin. Like silk it was beneath his rough hands. He almost felt guilty for touching such pristine, gorgeous skin with his rough and calloused hands. Hands that had killed. He was oh-so-worshipful of her as he touched her, however, knowing he hardly deserved this fine creature but grateful just the same.
Her smell. Like lavender and honey, or angel’s hair. There was something sweet and pure about her smell, something unbridled and intoxicating. As his hand moved down her torso and to her right thigh, he grasped her gently behind the right knee and pulled her legs apart, wedging himself in between her legs. He began to drag his lips over her neck, tasting her beauty, feeling the warmth of her flesh against his tongue. It was too much to take. He had to have all of her. He had to quench this thirst he’d had for her since nearly the moment he met her. He well remembered the day she fell on him and how he’d come into contact with that beautiful, quivering flower between her legs, the sight and scent that was so utterly beautiful to him. Now, he would have it for his own. He would claim her.
He rubbed his arousal against her pink core, coaxing forth her warm wetness that would prepare her body for his entry. She was already wet. He could feel it, so he drew back and thrust into her firmly but slowly, pushing his way into her body, taking possession of this woman as he had never taken possession in his life. He could feel her tightness around him, giving way for him, those honeyed walls that would give him life’s greatest pleasure and be the path by which his children would be born. It was a silken sheath meant only for him.
He drew back again, thrusting harder, making headway into her tight and virginal body. Beneath him, Courtly groaned, a sound somewhere between pleasure and pain. Maximus took it as pleasure and thrust again, harder, listening to her gasp as the sting of losing her virginity echoed throughout her body, but by now, Maximus was realizing the greatest coupling he could have possibly imagined. It was time to make his wife his very own and to put his seed in her, marking her. He found himself dreaming of blue-eyed sons in his image.
He began to move within her, stroking in and out, coiling his buttocks and thrusting again and again as Courtly lay beneath him and softly moaned. She didn’t particularly try to touch him. She simply lay there with her legs spread open and her hands gripping the bed until Maximus took one of her hands and put it on his buttocks. Courtly took the hint and put both hands on his buttocks as something to hold on to, feeling his flesh in the palm of her hands and liking it, but the minute she squeezed, he spilled himself deep into her virginal womb.
But he didn’t stop moving, at least not right away. He continued to move within her until withdrawing and rubbing the tip of his phallus over the wet, swollen exterior of her woman’s core. It was enough of an action to cause the overly-stimulated woman to experience her first climax and the moment she started gasping, he thrust into her again, feeling her tremors around his manhood, loving the sensation of it. He remained embedded in her simply because he wanted to, because if felt good and it felt right.
Pinned beneath his massive warm body, Courtly wrapped her legs around his hips and her arms around his neck, holding him fast. For several long minutes, neither one said a word. Neither one had to.
They were one.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sixteen Miles southeast of Oxford
Village of Watlington
He could see the army on the horizon, clear as day. Under skies that were clouding up, promising rain, Garran could see a good-sized army encamped near the village of Watlington. Riding with his father and his father’s four men-at-arms, Garran eyed the gathering in the distance suspiciously.
“What is that?” he asked his fathe
r, pointing. “Can you see it?”
Bose, calm and collected and dressed in full battle armor, nodded. “I do indeed.”
Garran was still looking at the cluster on the horizon but he couldn’t help noticing his father hadn’t answered his entire question.
“Papa,” he said, turning to look at him. “What is that?”
Bose didn’t answer for a moment. His black eyes were riveted to the same thing his son was looking at. Finally, he spoke.
“It looks to be an army,” he said. “In fact, that is the army we shall be joining shortly.”
Garran’s eyes narrowed. “Henry’s army?” he asked. “Are we traveling with them to London?”
Bose shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “At least, we are not going to London at this moment. We have a task to accomplish first. That is what the army is for.”
Garran didn’t like the sound of that. “What is the army for?”
Bose looked to his son. “The army is to retrieve something that belongs to Henry,” he said. “Hughston de Russe’s cousin, Christon de Russe, is claiming Warborough Castle for his own. Henry wants it back.”
Garran was stumped by the entire conversation. “Christon de Russe has been constable at Warborough for years,” he said. “Moreover, he is a great supporter of Henry and, if I recall correctly, also his treasurer. Why are we going to Warborough?”
Bose flicked a drop of sweat from his eyes. “Christon de Russe has decided to side with his cousin and, subsequently, de Montfort,” he said. “The man has turned against the king and not only has he switched allegiances, he has taken some of the king’s money with him. Henry wants his money, and his castle, back.”
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