Arabella and Mirabelle had already retired for the night along with the children. He reached the top step and walked towards his bed chamber. He was just about to enter when he heard loud whispering. Intrigued, he stayed hidden in the shadows.
"Wherefore didst thou attempt to sully my name earlier?" It was Mirabelle speaking and by her tone, she was extremely irritated.
Arabella answered back, "I was not! I was merely talking of old times, before thee left Arnscroft to get married, 'tis all. Ulric was part of thy life back then, and it seemed fitting to mention it."
"It is not all, Arabella. I do not wish thy husband to think badly of me."
"He wouldst not. It was a long time ago, and I thought it would be fun talking about Ulric."
Mirabelle's voice softened. "I admit it was fun back then, but as a married woman with a reputation to uphold, I do not wish anyone to know of it! Ulric was just a dalliance, nothing more. A bit of fun in-between courting with Merek. He never meant anything to me!"
John's jaw tightened. So it was true. Mirabelle had used him. Her words could not be plainer. He closed his eyes, as a wave of anger washed over him. Arabella had tried to warn him, all those years ago, but he had been too stubborn to listen to her. He had just thought her to be jealous. How wrong he had been.
Even recently, when Lord Dufour tried to tell him the same thing, he had chosen to ignore him. The truth was, he didn't want to believe that she would use him. At any age, unrequited love was a bitter pill to swallow.
Mirabelle continued talking. "Thee, on the other hand, loved him passionately. Do not think I didst not see thee making eyes at him all the time!"
John's ears pricked up, wondering how Arabella would respond. Her voice was low. "Aye, I did and it pained me to see him treated to abysmally by thee! Thou were heartless."
"He was no innocent. He enjoyed the banter just as much as I did."
"He loved thee! He told me so."
"Loved me? Never! Mayhap he told thee, because it would turn thy affections elsewhere, rather than on him." There was a pause. "A plan that obviously failed. Thou speak so vehemently that I wonder if thee still dost love him now?"
"Of course not! I am married to John."
"And dost thou love John?" Again there was a pause. "What am I asking? Of course, thou cannot love him. With no choice, thou had to marry him, added to which he beats thee!"
"He dost not beat me, Mirabelle. He spanks me. There is a big difference, and to be truthful, I usually deserve the spanking."
"What of love though?"
"Aye, I love him. My heart belongs to him, no other."
"Then me thinks it best that we agree to never talk of Ulric again?"
"Agreed."
John heard Robert begin to cry. Arabella was instantly aware. "Ah, Robert is awakening. Wouldst thee like to hold him?"
John had heard enough. Turning away, he backtracked along the corridor and made his way downstairs. So his wife loved him. His heart swelled, and a big grin broke out on his face. Once he would have enjoyed doing nothing more than throwing that knowledge straight back in her face, but now...now he knew his love was reciprocated, he realized he felt complete. He would take another cup of mead with Merek to give the women time to finish their conversation and make his way back up anon.
* * *
Arabella felt the bed dip when John joined her. She rolled onto her back and found him propped on his side, staring down at her. In the dim light from the flickering torch it was hard to fathom his expression.
"Milord, wherefore doth thou look at me so?"
"Dost thou love me, Arabella?"
Her eyes widened. Aye, she did, but if she were to reveal that fact, he would just throw it back in her face. "Wherefore dost thou wish to know?"
He reached out and touched a strand of her hair. "Over the past few months, I hath come to realize that I love thee, Arabella. I refused to believe it at first, but now I know it is the truth. All those years ago I was a fool. I never believed thee, when thee warned me about Mirabelle. I thought thee were out for thy own gain, but I wronged thee, and for that I am truly sorry."
Arabella could hardly believe what she was hearing. He loved her? All those years she dreamed of hearing those words spill from his lips. She placed a hand on his chest. "On Robert's life, dost thou speak the truth?"
"Aye, my love for thee is strong. Will thee forgive me?"
Her heart soared. "Aye, I already hath."
He threaded his fingers through her hair and captured her lips with his own. She sighed contentedly and wrapped her arms around his neck as his kiss deepened. He cradled her small body against his own, making her feel safe and secure.
She felt his hand creep up her thighs, and she parted them willingly, aching to feel his touch. He parted her soft womanly folds and expertly found her small nub of desire, beginning a steady onslaught that left her gasping with excitement. His lips moved from her mouth to her neck and then lower, nipping gently at her flesh, until she was writhing in ecstasy.
He moved up her body and lifting her buttocks, he entered her in one swift move.
Arabella gasped with delight, moving sensuously, as she adjusted to his size. Steadily, he began to thrust his hips against her, pushing his large manhood into her welcoming body. Moans of pleasure echoed softly from her lips, her body tautening with each stroke.
He moved with practiced ease, each thrust bringing her rapidly to the fulfilment she craved. With a rapturous cry she reached her pinnacle, her mind exploding into a million stars. His mouth sought hers once more, drowning her soft moans, until, with a great shudder of intense pleasure; he filled her with his seed. He collapsed against her before rolling onto his side, facing her.
When their breathing had quieted, he deemed to speak. "Thou hast captured my heart, body and soul, milady, and together we will be strong."
She kissed him softly. "And we shall bring many children into the world, all of whom will love thee just as much as I do."
They fell asleep in one another's arms, replete in the knowledge that regardless of what life threw at them, their love would now remain forever steadfast.
THE END
Maryse Dawson
Maryse Dawson was born in England but now lives in western France with her family. When she's not writing , she spends her time visiting the beaches and surrounding countryside.
She has always enjoyed reading romances and loves history, so began writing a few years ago to include domestic discipline in her stories.
You can find Maryse on Facebook at:
https://www.facebook.com/maryse.dawson.5
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