Sword for His Lady

by Mary Wine

  The moment they saw her they hooted. Their laughter increased until several men fell over from their amusement.

  “Your wife is displeased!”

  “Better soothe her temper else she’ll turn you away!”

  “A sour woman will leave your cock hard!”

  “There is a field that is always in season to plow!”

  Mildred pulled on Isabel’s arm. Isabel finally tossed her head and turned her back on them.

  They were drunk.

  The men kept joking with one another. Isabel turned around in time to see her husband bearing down on her. He jumped onto the back of his stallion and rode toward her. She shrieked, backing up and grabbing the front of her robes to run, which delighted his men.

  She only ran a short distance before he scooped her up. His men roared with approval.

  “Put me down!”

  “Not likely,” he declared as he gathered her against his bare chest and leaned over the horse’s neck. “I’ve a mind to ravish my vixen.”

  “You stink,” she declared, teasing him.

  He was sweaty and had the scent of the earth clinging to him, but there was something about the scent of his skin that pleased her. Her belly clenched with need, her passage feeling empty.

  “If you want me bare, Wife…all you must do is ask.” He dropped her to the ground and she realized they’d made it to the bathhouse. Her robes were settling when he tossed her into the air again and dropped her over his shoulder. The doorway was so low he had to duck to carry her through it.

  “I will be happy to free my member for you.”

  When he put her on her feet again, she smelled the cider on his breath. There was a happy smile on his lips that she’d never seen before, as well as a swollen eye and dark spot appearing on his jaw.

  “Do you think I’m impressed with your rough ways?”

  He smiled wide enough to show her his teeth. “I think you are impressed when I move you to ecstasy.”

  “Enough.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ve no care for your rough entertainments.”

  She started to leave but he stopped her.

  “Bathe me.”

  His tone was demanding and far too much like her last husband’s to suit her. She took another step toward the door.

  “Wife,” he insisted. “Bathe me.”

  She turned around, seething, but she stopped because she’d been raised to obey such demands.

  The look on his face wasn’t one of arrogance. His dark eyes sparkled with enjoyment that touched the tenderness of her heart.

  But when she looked at his face, her temper flared. His eye was swollen shut and his jaw had at least three bruises on it. When he grinned at her, there was blood in his teeth.

  “Have you no more sense than a boy?” She stomped over to the trough and let the water flow into his tub. “Why do you put yourself at risk? Age will take your teeth soon enough.”

  “’Twas naught but good celebrating.” He flexed his arms, the muscles bulging and sending a surge of heat through her.

  “You were fighting,” she corrected.

  He shrugged. “I like to fight.”

  “You like to fight?” she demanded. “Well, sir, I liked to fly my hawk in the mornings, and it was you who told me to adjust to marriage and not place myself at risk. Shall I set my nurse to clinging to you so you will not brawl?”

  He laughed so hard his eyes became glassy.

  She was furious. Ramon grinned and watched her through his good eye. He walked over to the tub, dunked his head, and tossed it back so that water flew across the bathhouse.

  “It pleases me to hear the concern in your voice.”

  “I am not concerned,” she insisted as she lifted the kettle and poured the water into the tub. It hadn’t truly boiled but she decided the brute deserved a cool bath.

  “You are,” he insisted as he tugged his tunic off and dropped it. There was a splash as he settled into the tub. “Admit it.”

  “Not unless you admit how foolish you have been behaving.” Her neck was hot and her clothing felt too tight across her breasts.

  “I’ll admit to how much I crave your thighs wrapped around me.”

  She gasped and threw the square of linen she’d been ready to scrub his back with at him. “You are besotted.”

  “Of your sweet charms,” he declared.

  “Enough,” she said. “Your squire can tend to you.”

  Her emotions were rolling in thick waves that made no sense; they simply overwhelmed her. She turned around, seeking the doorway, but there was a whoosh behind her, and then Ramon grabbed her.

  “Stop!”

  “You need cooling off more than I do, Wife!”

  He dropped her into the tub as she shrieked. “My robes—”

  “Now you may take them off.” He reached behind her and jerked on her laces.

  “Stop it, Ramon.”

  He didn’t listen to her but kept at her laces. She tried to avoid him but instead spilled most of the water onto the floor. It splashed over the edge of the tub in huge waves as she tried to escape. Her husband was relentless, tugging and pulling on her garments until he was able to hold them up like a prize.

  She sank down to her knees inside the tub to hide. “Have you no shame?”

  “With you?” He stood firmly in front of her, naked, without flinching. “None. I confess it freely. You should as well, for you are quite brazen in my embrace.”

  She cupped a handful of water and threw it at him. “Knave.”

  He ignored her insult and his dark gaze lowered to her breasts. “I adore your tits.”

  She suddenly stiffened, the memory of Jacques using the same word. But at the same time the memory moved through her, stoking the horror of the event, tears flooded her eyes. There was no way to stop them. Big, fat, wet drops ran down her cheeks as she fought to swallow a sob.

  Ramon’s eyes widened.

  He’d leave now for certain. No man ever dealt with a weeping woman. And that only made her cry more tears as she looked away, humiliated by her loss of control.

  “Leave me,” she muttered.

  “Nay.” He scooped her up and trapped her against his body. “Forgive me,” he offered as he kissed her temple. “I have never had a woman who loved me.”

  She slipped free of his embrace. “I never said—”

  Yet she did love him.

  She knew it as the lie got stuck on her lips. She couldn’t finish saying it because his expression made her want to weep again. It was so full of hope and need. Two things she’d never have suspected he craved.

  “Oh…let me be.”

  He chuckled softly and captured her again. This time he wrapped her in a towel, trapping her arms against her body.

  “I should not have worried you. Men fight. It has been the only way I have known. Forgive me.” He buried his head in her hair and drew in a deep breath. “There is not a single other person I would have apologized to.”

  It wasn’t an admission of love.

  But it was a concession of caring.

  That knowledge didn’t soothe her bruised feelings much.

  You are asking too much…

  She was, but she couldn’t stop. The hope was there inside her heart, nearly killing her with how bright it was burning. She feared it would consume her if he didn’t love her in return.

  What a different sort of torment her marriage was proving itself to be. Maybe it was true what the church said: There was no true happiness in this life. Only glimmers.

  So she’d take the opportunities that came to her.

  She shifted and stroked her hand down his chest, delighting in the feel of his hard body. He made a low sound of approval and cupped her breasts as she found the hard length of his swollen member.

  She str
oked it, trailing her fingers around its head and all the way to the sac where his seed was.

  “You are truly a vixen, Isabel…fiery.” He cupped her nape and held her steady as he kissed her. It was a hard kiss that set something loose inside her. All of her anger transformed into passion with just the touch of his mouth against hers.

  Her thoughts scattered and she willingly let them go.

  But Ramon pulled back and finished disrobing. He lifted his leg and climbed into the tub. “I do stink.”

  He was washing himself so quickly, water sloshing against the sides of the tub and splashing up as he hurried.

  “Ramon,” she admonished with a soft laugh.

  He looked at her with an expression that hinted at the boy he’d once been. “Can I not be eager for your attention? Do you not find the compliment in my desire to please you?”

  She laughed again, only this time it was a sultry sound. His expression changed, captivating her with the flare of excitement brightening his eyes. It set loose a confidence she didn’t realize she had.

  “Well now…” She moved toward him. “Since there is already water on the floor.”

  She lifted her leg and climbed right into the tub.

  “Isabel,” he groaned as he guided her down onto his length. “You are truly a prize to be envied.”

  She gasped as she took his length, pleasure shooting through her.

  How was it possible to enjoy an act so much?

  She didn’t know and wasn’t interested in contemplating an answer. A soft moan was all that escaped from her lips as she reached for his shoulders to steady herself.

  “That’s it, my beauty…take what you want.”

  “I will.” She’d never sounded so demanding before, but she meant it. “I crave you, Ramon.”

  It was a dark confession. One that pleased her. She rose and pressed back down on him, her knees settling on each side of his hips. Water sloshed over the rim of the tub as she increased her pace.

  “As I do you.” His tone turned savage. She felt it as much as she heard it. Sensation tingled along her skin, raising goose bumps and tightening her nipples. “I must have you.”

  His expression tightened and there was a whoosh of water as he stood up, lifting her with him. He turned her and pressed her down onto her knees in the tub.

  “I need to claim you.” He pressed his member deep inside her from behind, locking her hips in place with his hands.

  She gasped, holding on to the edge of the tub to steady herself. Each thrust drove more water onto the floor. But it also drove a shaft of pleasure through her. She was gasping, unable to draw in enough breath to keep pace with her heart. He was pounding into her, driving his member in and out with a savage rhythm.

  “More,” she demanded. “More!”

  “You shall have it,” he snarled next to her ear, driving faster and harder into her. He pulled her hips up, above the water level, as he stood so he could use his legs. She still braced her hands against the edge of the tub but pushed back into every thrust. She was straining toward him, every muscle drawing tight, passion burning away everything except the need to meet his thrusts.

  His member was swelling, her body tightening around it. He growled, “Not…yet!”

  She couldn’t make a sound, ecstasy ripping through her. It was blinding. Bursting through her with the force of a thunder clap. She arched, feeling as if her spine might snap, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was pressing herself against him, taking his length and holding it.

  Ramon shouted her name as his seed spilled. It was hot and sent another ripple of satisfaction through her womb. They ended up kneeling again, Ramon draped along her back.

  “You drop me to my knees,” he muttered. “A place I do not mind so long as you are there with me.”

  There were several things she didn’t mind at all, so long as he was with her.

  Didn’t mind them at all.

  * * *

  Ambrose had a black eye the next morning as well. He sat at the table as the maids came to tend to him. They clicked their tongues and put soothing compresses on him. He used the time to admire their cleavage. Ramon’s lip was split, a dark scab sealing the wound. He passed Ambrose and the two smirked at each other. Their men who were filling the lower tables slapped the tabletops as they smiled.

  Men…

  Knights…

  She was sick of it all.

  In fact, her belly was twisting with nausea. Isabel looked away but her stomach refused to settle. Someone delivered a bowl of steaming porridge and the scent of it made her sick.

  She shoved away from the table, running toward the garderobe as she fought the urge to retch. There was nothing in her stomach, but her body heaved all the same. By the time the fit had passed, she was shaking, and sweat darkened her hairline.

  “Isabel?” Ramon asked softly.

  She groaned. “You do not need to see me like this.”

  Her husband was not put off by her words. He cupped her shoulder and pulled her into the light. His dark gaze roamed over her face and noted the quiver in her lower lip.

  “You are going back to bed.” He scooped her up. “I will not lose you to fever.”

  “I am not hot.”

  She should have saved her breath. Ramon carried her through the hall and to the stairs. People dashed out of his path, his boots clacking on the stone floor. People rose from their seats, their eyes widening at the sight.

  “Put me down,” she pleaded.

  He gave her a hard look. “I will not lose you.”

  His tone was strained and he carried her up to their chamber with a speed that accelerated his heartbeat. Ramon didn’t notice it though. He didn’t stop until he had her back in their bed. He yanked the bedding up to her chin and tucked it around her shoulders.

  Only then did she see the worry in his dark eyes. He brushed her forehead, smoothing her hair back with a tender touch.

  “I will not lose you.”

  “Here, now.” Mildred walked to the doorway with a huff. “There’s no need to talk like that, my lord.”

  Ramon stood up. “Where is your basket?” he demanded. “She needs it.”

  “I do not,” Isabel argued, pushing the bedding away and trying to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “I am not fevered.”

  Ramon hooked her knees and dropped her legs back in the bed. “You will rest, Isabel. Even if I must place a guard on you.”

  He turned his head around and glared at his squire, Thomas. “Fetch that basket.”

  “Aye, my lord,” the youth responded instantly. He was a blur in the doorway before Mildred drew in enough breath to argue.

  “There’s naught in my basket for what ails my lady,” Mildred said.

  Ramon stiffened. “Then tell me what she needs. I will get it.”

  Mildred propped her hands on her hips. “Naught but time.” She waved him away from the bed. “Get up now, my lady. Time enough for rest when the babe is born.”

  “Babe?” Ramon asked in a whisper.

  Isabel started to rise but decided her knees were too weak at the moment.

  “Aye.” Mildred nodded. “I thought that might be the case when your robes no longer fit yesterday. It’s the breasts that swell first.” She turned and looked at Ramon. “Your seed has taken root. It’s been two and a half months since you celebrated your wedding. More than enough time to be sure.”

  And she hadn’t bled again.

  Ramon smiled, his face lighting up until even his midnight-black eyes sparkled. He let out a roar and gathered her up against him. He swung her around several times before putting her down. There was a scuff of boot heels at the door of the chamber as his men responded. Ambrose pushed his way right through them, skidding to a stop when he saw the smile on his lord’s face.

  “We’re to hav
e a child!” Ramon announced. “Ring the bells!”

  There was a scuffle on the stairs and a few moments later the bells in the church began to toll happily. Ramon captured her hand and pulled her toward the windows. The shutters were open, the scent of rain in the air. But people came out of the buildings, into the yard, and cheered.

  He carried her down the stairs and out into the yard. Everyone forgot their chores and the everyday struggles to survive as musicians pulled out their instruments and filled the yard with melody.

  * * *

  In the yard, Donald joined the celebration.

  He didn’t really have a choice. Everyone was dancing. Someone grabbed his hand and tugged him along. Truthfully, he didn’t want to resist. He’d never been part of such happiness, and it felt good.

  Better than good, even if he didn’t know the exact word for the feeling. But soon his belly knotted as he contemplated his duty.

  Why did they sing songs about duty when it wasn’t anything to be happy about? He was sworn to serve Jacques Raeburn, but all he wished to do was stay at Thistle Keep. Life was different here. Far different than any he had known.

  Yet there was his sworn duty.

  A man didn’t have anything except his honor. Not truly. A title might be taken. Gold could be stolen or easily spent. Honor was all that remained, and he’d given his solemn word to Baron Raeburn.

  God would know if he didn’t keep his word and refuse him entrance into paradise. Such a sin could never be forgiven.

  Donald’s heart was heavy but he squared his shoulders and slipped away after dark. The way through the woods was familiar now. Even the twisted shadows no longer scared him into muttering prayers to protect him from evil. No demon had appeared in his many trips through the dark abyss he’d been warned about since childhood.

  He only felt the touch of evil when he spied Raeburn’s camp. There was a feeling of ungodliness here. Quite different from the sensation he had when he returned to Thistle Keep. Men were clustered around fires, the stench of unwashed bodies stronger than the smoke. Rotten carcasses lay on the edge of the forest from the animals they’d hunted. There wasn’t a bare chin in sight.

  There was also little order. Men used whores right in the open, grunting like beasts as they labored. Their chosen consorts were pitiful creatures, the lowest of the low: their faces darkened with soot from the fires, their robes filthy on the back from the number of times they had been pushed to the ground. They suffered in silence, accepting food with shaky hands and desperate looks, retreating into the darkness to eat like bitches.