Demetrius (Brethren Origins Book 2)

by Barbara Devlin

  “Thou dost make excellent sense, and I am amenable to thy plan.” But he closed his eyes and groaned when she resumed her survey of his most male member. “Perchance thou wilt grant me the same privilege with thy person, as I am just as captivated by thy feminine curves.”

  “Thou would have me return the favor?” At the prospect, she gulped. Then again, Demetrius had not hurt her, and she believed he never would, so she dipped her chin. “All right.”

  The instant he rested his palm to her breast, she gave vent to a half-smothered sob, but hers was not a cry of pain, sorrow, or alarm. Instead, her audible exhalation manifested the wonder of so many delicious, virgin sensations, which she savored as he fondled her flesh.

  To her surprise, he untied his braies, grasped her wrist, and brought her into direct contact with his length, and she almost swooned as he tutored her in an illicit massage. And when he loosened her chemise and pressed on her enticing caresses, skin to skin, unlike anything she had ever before experienced, she flexed her fingers, and something strange happened.

  Grunting and grimacing, he gritted his teeth, and a hot substance spattered her hand. Sure that she had caused irreparable harm to her man, she tried to withdraw, but he held her fast. At last, she could take no more, and the tears flowed.

  “My lord, I am sorry.” Now she shook with dread, as she might have forever ruined their chance at happiness and scarred him for life. “Whatever I did wrong, I apologize. Pray, forgive me.”

  “Prithee, a moment, Athel.” He kissed her forehead and sighed. “But allay thy concerns, as thou hast done naught wrong.” Still she wept, while he shifted and thrust his hips, until he exhaled and laughed. “Oh, my lady, how I needed that.”

  “Thou art not angry with me?” Beneath the weight of his scrutiny, she faltered.

  “My dear, I am relieved, as thou hast brought me to completion.” He rubbed his nose to hers. “Dost thou not comprehend what ye have done?”

  “How would I know?” With the sheet, he wiped her cheeks. “Remember, I was raised in a convent.”

  “But thou didst tend the sick and the wounded, did ye not?” He toyed with her nipple, and she clenched her gut.

  “Aye, but that is a far cry from the activity in which we engaged hither.” In light of his lighthearted demeanor, she checked her trepidation. “Pray, explain what occurred.”

  “Thither is no mystery.” Rolling onto his back, he cast a charming grin, and she responded in kind. “Thou hast pleased me, and thou dost bear my seed as proof.”

  “Did I?” At that revelation, she sat upright and studied the tacky matter on her skin, which struck her as mundane. Then she pulled back the covers, gazed upon his most male characteristic for the first time, and was not impressed. “It is rather ugly, is it not?”

  “I beg thy pardon?” Now Demetrius looked upset. “While I am not the most experienced man, in terms of carnal pursuits, I believe it is of estimable size and form, and it certainly functions as intended, as thou hast witnessed for thyself.”

  “But I mean no insult.” For a few seconds, she poked and prodded him, and he did not protest. “Yet thou must admit it is reminiscent of a soggy potage of roysons.”

  “Thou dost compare my longsword to a soggy potage of roysons?” Propped on an elbow, he furrowed his brow, and she could not stifle a giggle. “Regardless of its appearance, I wager it will suffice when I claim ye.” Ah, his tone proclaimed his playful mood, which she adored. And when he rubbed his nose to hers, she pressed her lips to his as an olive branch.

  “Which thou wilt do once we reach Chichester Castle.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Aye, as I would not take ye on the road, in these crude quarters.” He traced the curve of her jaw. “However, we shall decide, together, the appropriate date.”

  “That suits me, my lord.” Then she noted the sunlight filtered by the canvas. “Oh, but I am late, and Isolde requires my assistance, that we might eat and continue our journey.”

  “Then I should rise and grant ye the privacy of our tent.” And so he brought her thoughts full circle.

  “That is not necessary.” She scooted from the mattress to collect her hose, gown, and surcoat. “As thou hast mentioned, again and again, we are wed. Indeed, this eventide, when we break our travel, I should assist ye in thy bath, as I have been remiss in my duties.”

  “My lady, while thy offer is tempting, I am unaccustomed to such luxuries and would do the deed, myself.” Of course, he would. And to further thwart her goal, he eased from the bed and tugged on his tunic.

  “But thou dost misunderstand.” Sorting through her belongings, she located her comb and smoothed her wayward hair, as she prepared to make him an even exchange she never would have dared without Isolde’s encouragement. “My motives are selfish, as I had hoped ye might return the favor.”

  The poor man stood silent, with his beauteous mouth agape, and then he shuffled his feet and shifted his weight. Just as it seemed he would voice a rejoinder, he blinked.

  “Thou dost wish me to wash ye?” Was it her imagination, or did he seem open to her suggestion? “Thou would allow me to gaze upon thy nude body?”

  “Art thou shocked?” In truth, she had not thoroughly contemplated her proposal prior to extending the invitation and fought unwelcome timidity.

  “I am surprised, but I am more than willing to accommodate ye,” he declared with a wink. “Perchance, one day we will share the ancere.”

  “Based on the tenets of our faith, I would express an objection, but Isolde praises such undertakings to foster marital affection, so I will not gainsay what I have not tried.” Mayhap it was the appropriate occasion to reveal a secret she had been concealing. “My lord, I know it hath been not quite a fortnight since we spoke our vows, but I no longer regret marrying ye, as I owe ye a great debt, and no one could be more shocked than I, regarding the precipitous development. While I will not claim to covet love, as it is too soon to manifest such bonds of devotion, I do hold ye in high esteem, which I hope will grow into an abiding commitment. And our journey hath exposed me to so much more of the world than I ever would have learned about in the books and journals in the Carmelite’s library, as an oblate, so I would tour the coast with ye, build a home with ye, and raise a family with ye, when the opportunity presents itself. Indeed, life beyond the walls of the convent hath much to entice a provincial, and I look forward to so many new experiences with my new husband.”

  “Thou dost humble me, gentle wife.” Well, that was not the response for which she yearned. “Now we should be about our business, as we are but two day’s ride from Chichester Castle.”

  DEMETRIUS

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sun shone in a clear sky, sending bright rays of light reflecting on the snow, which glittered like a sea of diamonds. Traveling in advance of the procession, Demetrius shifted in the saddle, shielded his eyes, bent his head, and peered at Athel. Swaddled in his lap, she smiled when he caught her studying him again.

  “Wherefore dost thou scrutinize my profile?” He cast a stern expression, to which she giggled.

  “I was thinking of last night and this morning.” As usual, she blushed, and she harkened sweet memories of the first time he bathed her and her maiden completion, which he managed just after dawn, using his fingers, in their bed. “Wilt thou repeat thy tender ministrations this eventide?”

  “Didst thou enjoy thyself?” He could not resist teasing her, even as she burrowed her face against his chest and squealed, in much the same fashion as she had when he deployed the soap to her breasts. Cautious of those who might overhear their conversation, he whispered, “My lady wife, I will do whatever thou dost wish, if ye will scream for me again.”

  “Oh, my lord.” Closing her eyes, she squeezed him. “I do not believe I could stop it, if I tried.”

  Of course, his innocent bride did not realize he gained just as much pleasure from their somewhat clumsy interludes, and he would maintain that secret, as a matter of pri
de. While her original plan was to wash him, he simply would not allow it, as he could not control his body in her presence, but that was not his fault, as she posed a most delightful challenge he had not foreseen.

  Given her strict upbringing, she was, in so many ways, a newborn babe, and she wanted to try everything, at once. And during the previous sup, she opted to sample his ale. The end result was one he would never forget, as she consumed the contents of his large tankard and another half-portion, and then she all but seduced him, if he could call her adorable maneuvers that. But in her altered state, she let down her guard and presented a whole other side of herself, which he found unutterably appealing and impossible to resist.

  “Then once we make camp, and we retire, I shall satisfy ye, if thou wilt stop staring at me.” Just thinking of another sweet respite roused his fire-breathing dragon. But the sensation was short-lived, when he spied a patrol rounding the bend, recognized the colors of their standard, reined in, and drew his sword. “Arucard.”

  “What is it?” Athelyna stretched upright, but he held her still.

  “Shh.” Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the Brethren had hastened their pace, and then he searched for a safe haven. “We ride through the northern edge of Winchester, en route to Chichester Castle, and these men hail from a local nobleman who hath not supported Arucard’s position, so thither may be trouble. If necessary, I will put ye on the verge, and I would have ye shelter beneath the trees until I come for ye.”

  “Yea, my lord.” She dipped her chin, but the fear in her green gaze gave him pause. “Is Winchester not the place we are to eventually settle?”

  “It will be all right, Athel. And we will do as the King commands, when we receive our orders.” To comfort her, he cupped her cheek and gave her a quick kiss. “Just do as I say, and we will survive.”

  “Greetings, good sir.” A guard raised his hand, and the company came to a halt. “I am Sander Lachaille, majordomo of Saltwood Keep.” Sander averted his gaze, just as Arucard joined Demetrius. “Lord Sussex, this is a surprise. What brings ye to Winchester?”

  “We are en route from London and Sir Demetrius’s wedding, to Chichester Castle.” Mirroring Demetrius’s stance, Arucard rested his hand on the hilt of his weapon, because the master of Saltwood Keep, Renoldus Van Hermant, did not support His Majesty, in the wake of the battle that followed Isolde’s trial, conviction, and subsequent beating for treason. “Thither is trouble?”

  The entire nefarious affair had been a result of the late Lord Rochester’s double dealing, in a failed insurgence to usurp the throne, using counterfeit burgage plots to steal property. To everyone’s horror, the earl sacrificed his own daughter, in a haunting display of brutality that Demetrius would never forget, in an unscrupulous quest for power. In the aftermath, Isolde’s father and her brother were executed.

  “Aye, Lord Sussex. And felicitations, Sir Demetrius.” Sander motioned to the rear. “Just across the border, in thy territory, the de Cadby’s suffered an incursion on their lands, as armed bandits attacked the estate and stole cattle, and thither art numerous dead and wounded.”

  “What of Aeduuard de Cadby?” Demetrius asked, as the gadling was a trusted ally. “Is he among the injured? Didst thou offer assistance?”

  “To my knowledge, he was unharmed and tends his people, as he should, given they are his responsibility.” With a smirk, Sander arched a brow. “And we were dispatched to protect Van Hermant’s interests and naught more, thus we leave ye to continue thy travel.” With that, Sander heeled the flanks of his destrier and steered north.

  “Shameful.” Isolde drew back the hood of her cloak. “Arucard, I should prepare to care for our citizens, and I need to organize the wagon.”

  “Demetrius, I am trained to provide curative aid, and I would assist Isolde, with thy permission.” In his grasp, Athelyna wiggled free of the wool blanket. “Pray, let me serve those in need, my lord. This is my calling.”

  “Of course.” To say he was proud of his wife, in that instant, was to say too little. And as soon as her feet hit the ground, she went to work, issuing directives to various Chichesters. “What manner of woman have I married?”

  “A spirited woman, I suspect.” Arucard chuckled. “God be praised.”

  “Thou dost mock my situation.” Athelyna climbed to the seat, beside Isolde, and when she noted Demetrius’s regard, she smiled.

  “Nay. I remark on a commonality we share, and thou art blessed.” Arucard signaled the column and set a hurried pace. “Now, let us continue our journey, that we might be of support to our ally.”

  With heightened awareness, Demetrius urged his mount, and the caravan traversed the curve. As the landscape spread wide before him, he glimpsed the carnage of which Sander spoke. Several motionless forms littered the earth, excepting a small collective gathered on the perimeter of the glade. “God’s teeth. How could they refuse to provide assistance?”

  “Because Van Hermant is a mean-spirited old fool.” Arucard shook his head. “Ever since his son was killed in the aftermath of Isolde’s trial, he has blamed me for his misery. But I suspect he was a wretch in advance of our arrival on these shores.”

  Aeduuard de Cadby, a local resident who conspired with the Brethren to liberate Isolde, saluted. “Good sirrahs, I am gratified to see ye, as my men require thy aid.”

  “Thither art many wounded?” Isolde inquired.

  “Lady Sussex, as always, it is a pleasure.” With a flourish, de Cadby bowed. “Thither art twelve injured and six dead. If thou canst work thy magic, as thou art an excellent physic, I would be forever in thy debt.”

  “Given I owe ye a debt I can never repay, I should be delighted to provide medicaments to thy people. And thou art fortunate that I am accompanied by my new sister, as she is trained to offer healing treatment.” Isolde draped an arm about Athelyna’s shoulders. “Permit me to introduce Demetrius’s wife, Athelyna, the countess of Wessex.”

  “My lady.” The gadling smoothed his hair and grinned. “Welcome to Chichester.”

  To Demetrius’s satisfaction, his charming spouse averted her stare and blushed, as was her way. And then she went to work.

  “My lord, fetch me some clean water.” Athel knelt beside a fallen guard. “I must clean the gash, mend the flesh, and bandage his thigh.”

  “Aye, my lady wife.” Despite his playful tone, she took no note of him as she focused on her tasks.

  And so he abided her requests, issued in quick succession. While she assessed her charges, he worked with the Brethren and Aeduuard to construct their camp for the night. After some organization, the patients were moved to a large tent, whither Athel and Isolde tarried.

  For Demetrius, his bride excelled in her craft, and he could not have been more satisfied with her performance. With her delicate hands, she tended the soldiers, washing various injuries, setting a broken bone, and extending words of solace and encouragement.

  When she realized one individual’s condition was beyond the point of simple curatives and her knowledge, she sat at his side and squeezed his fingers. “Art thou from Chichester?”

  “Aye. I have resided hither, all my life.” The unfortunate soul grimaced. “And thou?”

  “Nay.” She wiped his brow. “I was born in Coventry, and I journey hither, with my new husband, to eventually make a home in Winchester. What is thy name?”

  “He is blessed, as thou art beauteous.” The guard choked, and Demetrius handed Athel a mug of Adam’s ale. “And I am called Dreue, my lady.”

  “Thither is anything more I can do to make ye comfortable?” How calm she remained, as she held the cup to Dreue’s mouth.

  “My mother always kissed my forehead, when she bade me enjoy a pleasant sleep.” He closed his eyes and groaned. “Pray, angel. Wilt thou do the same?”

  “Of course.” As she abided the request, Demetrius noted the lad passed to the hereafter, with a smile on his face. Then Athelyna lowered her chin. “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sanct
i.”

  For several minutes, she bowed her head in prayer, and he tried to summon an intercession, some appeal for peace, yet such petitions eluded him. Inside, he remained an empty shell, bereft of a single heartfelt plea and incapable of correcting the situation.

  Imprisoned in a tortuous cell of his own making, he knew not how to escape the torment that bound him to a shallow reality. Yet he found a glimmer of light amid the clouds. Indeed, Athelyna persisted as a ray of sunshine in his otherwise dark existence, and he craved her company.

  “Come, Athel. Thou hast done all ye could, and he at last rests.” Demetrius provided balance as she stood. As he tucked a stray tendril behind her ear, he bent and touched his lips to hers. “Although His Majesty commanded me to the altar, I could not be more content with his choice. My dear, I am proud of ye, as thou didst credit to our shared name.”

  “Praise, indeed.” In that instant, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and grinned, as they strolled toward the field kitchen. “The hour grows late, and I should bathe. Shall I collect thy sup, my lord?”

  “Ah, I believe we have a prior commitment, and I look forward to it.” With a loud smack, he claimed another boon and swatted her bottom, in play. “I must check that all is well with Arucard, and then I will meet ye in our tent.”

  “Do not dally, my lord.” His woman splayed her palms to his chest, and the usual desire flickered, as a welcomed balm to his troubled soul. “As I am hungry.”

  “Lady Wessex, I am thy most willing servant.” He winked and admired the sway of her hips as she walked to the wagon and joined Isolde.

  Demetrius located the Brethren and de Cadby near a large fire.

  “The boothalers attacked as we moved the cattle to the north fields.” Aeduuard rubbed the back of his neck. “We were ambushed and outnumbered, thus I suspect they watched us prior to launching their endeavor.”