High Warrior

by Kathryn Le Veque

  She was more than willing to let him claim her.

  As Eiselle found herself consumed by her first sexual encounter, Bric was having a difficult time pacing himself. Every touch, every kiss, had him wanting to ram his body into hers until he was satisfied. But he couldn’t do that. He wanted to go slowly with Eiselle because, for the first time in his life, he was building something with a woman and the only way he could think to do that was to be slow and gentle with her. So far, it was working. But the sight of her nude breasts by the firelight very nearly undid him.

  He’d never seen anything so arousing in his entire life.

  But he didn’t touch her there, at least not yet. He was still trying to acquaint her with his touch and he, in turn, was taking great delight in exploring her body. His hands were on her shoulders, her arms, feeling her silken skin. In fact, he thought he was doing quite well with pacing himself when Eiselle suddenly reached up, took his hands, and put them against her breasts.

  “Here, Bric,” she whispered breathlessly. “Touch me here.”

  Bric’s control deserted him in an instant. He growled seductively as he descended upon her luscious body. Their lips came together in a cataclysmic clash, his mouth slanting over hers, suckling her lips furiously. Eiselle’s cries of passion were muted against his mouth until he moved away from her lips and feasted hungrily at her breasts. As Eiselle writhed beneath him, Bric moved to touch the unfurling flower between her legs.

  Eiselle cried out with surprise when his fingers touched the thick outer lips, matted with a fine fluff of black hair. Bric maintained his hold on her nipple as he gently fondled her to allow her to become accustomed to his touch. Eiselle gradually relaxed as she became accustomed to his fingers, and only when her body eased beneath his touch did he attempt to part her lush petals.

  She was as slick with moisture, unbelievably hot. Bric stroked the tender folds, his entire body shaking with the force of his need. He’d never known desire like this and he could no longer hold back. It was time to make her his in every sense of the word.

  The wife he never wanted.

  Bric finally slipped a finger into her sheath, so incredibly tight that he very nearly soiled himself with the pleasure of it. Eiselle’s pants of shock quickly turned into cries of pleasure, and Bric could feel her tight passage contracting about his slick finger, pulling at him and demanding him.

  He could wait no longer.

  Rising to his knees, he ripped off his tunic so aggressively that he tore a sleeve. One boot hit the floor and the other went sailing into the wall. His breeches came off so quickly that he nearly ended up on the floor in his haste to remove them.

  All the while, Eiselle watched with wonder as Bric disrobed, finally standing before her, nude and proud and magnificent. His broad shoulders sheltered an exquisitely muscled chest, covered with a matting of graying hair. His flat stomach and narrow waist caught her attention and she was awed by the sight of him. It was the first time she’d ever seen a nude man, and she found it most enthralling. Her gaze came to rest on his enormous arousal, knowing that his hardness was meant for her. Soon enough, it would be buried in her body.

  Bric didn’t give her time to look at him further, fearful that she might show some apprehension in what they were about to do. So far, she’d been responsive and heated, and he wanted to continue that trend. Climbing into the bed beside her, his big body covered hers, their flesh touching. He could hear himself groaning at the pure delight of it, warm skin against warm skin.

  Wedging himself between her legs, he rubbed his manhood against her private core, stroking the outer lips as he had done with his fingers. She was glistening with wet heat, spilling down onto the linens, and he bathed himself in her virginal juices.

  Bric wrestled against the natural instinct to ram into her like a rutting bull. He worked carefully, gaining headway bit by bit, feeling her tightness draw him inward. She was so slick that it would have been easy to simply thrust into her, but he refrained. Better to allow her to become accustom to his intrusion before the sting of losing her innocence cast a measure of reality upon their union.

  Beneath him, Eiselle was amazingly calm, gripping his muscular arms for support as he forged into virgin territory. Beneath her hands, she could feel his body quivering, straining to maintain control in the face of his desire. She, too, was quivering with anticipation, at pain she knew would soon come.

  The moment of possession.

  When it happened, it came in a flash. Falling atop her, Bric grasped her breast and descended upon a peaked nipple. Suckling furiously, Eiselle forgot her fears and responded to him in a way she never knew her body was capable of. Her cheeks began to flush with desire as her fingers wound themselves in his thick, blond hair, and Bric knew the time was upon him to act. With Eiselle properly distracted, it was time to take her. Coiling his buttocks, Bric thrust into her harder than he ever thought possible, driving himself the full long length of his throbbing manhood.

  Eiselle gasped loudly with surprise at the savage action, a sting of pain rippling through her loins. Bric was seated to the hilt in less than a second and the pain, coupled with his closeness, brought tears to her eyes as she clutched his shoulders with white-knuckled intensity. His swift movement had startled her, and she couldn’t help the soft sobs that escaped her lips.

  Fully sheathed within her delicious tightness, Bric struggled to remain still as Eiselle writhed beneath him. When he heard the faint sobs, he raised his head from her swollen nipple.

  “I am so sorry,” he whispered huskily. “I would not have hurt you had there been another way.”

  Eiselle wiped at her eyes. “It’s not… ’tis not the pain, but… but the closeness. I never knew it could be like this.”

  Bric didn’t, either. Wrapping his arms around her, he began to move gently within her. Slowly at first, relishing the feel of his erection embedded within her unbelievably slick folds. She clutched him tightly, wrapping her legs about his hips and clinging to him with an instinctive need.

  Bric’s pace increased, quickening his thrusts as he was blinded to all else but the feel of her flesh around him. It was the most satisfying thing he had ever experienced. Against him, Eiselle’s resumed pants of passion told him that she was beginning to experience the same pleasure that had so easily engulfed him. Now, they were experiencing it together as it was meant to be.

  But it was a pleasure that was building to a peak faster than he ever thought possible. In fact, nothing on earth could have prepared Bric for his lightning-quick climax. With a roar, he spilled deep into her womb, feeling every last twitch of his spent desire with the greatest of pleasure. But he continued to move within her, wanting her to experience the same burst of pleasure that would erase the sting of losing her innocence.

  He shifted his weight, gazing down at her flushed face as he continued to thrust. Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, and he found his gaze drawn to her beautiful breasts as they bounced against every thrust he delivered. One hand trailed down her neck, encircling a breast before moving toward the junction where their bodies were joined in passion. That was where the magic of her pleasure pulsed, begging for release.

  Seeking her hard nub, he manipulated it fiercely, watching Eiselle’s eyes fly open with surprise. In the next moment, she exhaled a loud shriek that echoed against the very walls of the chamber and her entire body bucked and spasmed as she experienced her first release. Over and over the ripples of pleasure rolled over her, and Bric held on to her for fear that she would buck right off the bed. He could feel her entire body quivering and he knew her pleasure had been as good as his, or perhaps even more than that.

  The pleasure of a woman, knowing her husband for the very first time.

  Enfolded in the warmth of his massive embrace, Eiselle was in a stupor. Her body was limp, her mind a void of satisfaction as she felt the remains of Bric’s arousal twitching within her tender folds. It was the most remarkable, private sensation she had ever exper
ienced, and she would have been perfectly content to remain as they were for the rest of eternity.

  No words were spoken. After that, no words were necessary. Sleep borne of a deep satisfaction came quickly and when they slept, wrapped up in each other’s arms, it was as if they had been doing it since the beginning of time.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  He’d left her sleeping.

  Bric had awoken before dawn with Eiselle wrapped up in his arms, sleeping the sleep of the dead. She was pressed up against him and their legs were entangled as he held her snuggly in his enormous arms. He’d simply lain there, hearing her soft, steady breathing, feeling her warmth against him, and thankful that the day before hadn’t been a dream. He knew he could wake up like this every morning for the rest of his life and be quite pleased about it.

  In fact, he couldn’t ever remember being quite so happy.

  From where he lay, he could see the window in the room, and he saw clearly when the sun began to rise as the sky began to turn shades of pink and gold. He had duties awaiting him, but he was loathed to move. He just wanted to soak up the last few minutes with his new wife in his arms. But, eventually, he knew he had to go, so he very carefully disengaged himself from her, tucked her in, and silently proceeded to dress.

  The breeches went on and when he went to pull on the tunic, he noticed the sleeve he’d torn in the heat of passion the night before and it made him smile. The tunic went over his head and as he gathered his boots and prepared to leave, he saw the belt Eiselle had made him on the table and he collected it. He was so very touched by her gift and he planned to wear it every day to remind him of her.

  With a lingering glance at her dark, sleeping head, he quit the chamber in utter silence.

  The keep was beginning to wake as Bric made his way down to his chamber on the near side of the entry. The great hall was strewn with soldiers just beginning to rise, men with aching heads from too much celebration. He even saw the priest sleeping over near the hearth again, thinking that the man had stayed clear of him after performing the marriage ceremony. He suspected that the priest had made a fine display of gluttony throughout the night. That was of no consequence. The man had performed the duty he had come to perform, and Bric intended to pay the man well for his services before he was escorted back to King’s Lynn. Given that Bric was so happy about the marriage, he might even thank the man, too.

  Heading into his chamber, Bric stripped off his clothing with the intention of washing, but he quickly realized that Eiselle’s rose scent was still on his flesh. He found himself smelling his arms, his hands, and he realized that didn’t want to wash that scent off. He wanted to bask in it, a scent so subtle yet so powerful that it made him feel lightheaded. Without washing, he simply put on new clothing, including his mail coat and broadsword, and headed out into the dawn of a bright, new day.

  As Bric headed into the outer bailey, men were pointing to him and laughing, waving at the new husband. Bric usually ignored that kind of attention but, this morning, he couldn’t help but respond with a wave. It was very unlike him to show camaraderie with his men like that, but it was indicative of his mood. He was happy and it was apparent. Making his way to the gatehouse where his knights and senior soldiers were already starting to gather, he ran into a sea of smiling faces.

  He knew exactly why they were smiling and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, but he was also quite embarrassed by it. Those bastards were smiling at him because they knew what he’d been up to all night and they further knew he’d gone quietly to his lifelong sentence of marriage in sharp contrast to the man who had tried to fight his way out of it. His grin turned to irritated snorts.

  “Stop looking at me as if you are expecting me to say something to ease your curiosity,” he snapped, but it was without force. “Give me a report from the night watch.”

  Pearce, who was nursing a substantially aching head from all of the drink the night before, spoke.

  “The night watch reports that all was quiet,” he said, putting a hand to his head as if to hold his brains in. “Are you telling me I earned this aching head and you are not going to tell me that it was worth it?”

  Bric’s eyes narrowed at him. “Nay.”

  “Not one word?”

  Bric turned his attention to the group at large. “Have patrols been sent out for the morning?”

  As Bric ignored Pearce, Mylo answered. “They’re all away, my lord,” he said. “And in case you were wondering, my son survived being pinched by your lady wife, but he now calls her the basty lady.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I believe he is trying to say nasty lady.”

  Bric cocked an eyebrow. “If he tries to pinch her again, he’ll find out just how nasty I can be,” he said. “Next? Any further reports for this morning?”

  His question was presented to the group at large, and men shook their heads. Seeing that no one had any comments, he continued.

  “I want patrols out for the rest of the day,” he told Pearce and Mylo. “I am not convinced the raiders two days ago were an isolated incident, so we must remain vigilant.”

  “My lord,” one of the gatehouse sentries spoke. “We had an old man here yesterday, a farmer delivering grain, who said he might have seen Savernake men in Peterborough. He thought he recognized their orange and yellow standard, but he could not be sure.”

  That was a curious bit of information. “I wonder what Dash would be doing this far north,” Bric muttered. “I suppose we shall soon find out if he is really here. If there is nothing else from any of you, assume your posts.”

  The group splintered, with men going about their day. Bric turned for the stables because his horse was due to be tended by the farrier this day, and then he intended to walk the inner wall to check posts. He had his day planned out, which also included making a point to see Eiselle, but Pearce and Mylo stopped him before he could get away.

  “Well?” Pearce said. “Did your lady wife survive the night?”

  Bric knew the question would come. He paused, looking at his two knights with veiled impatience.

  “If you think I am going to speak of something indisputably private, think again,” he said. “I do not ask you what your experience is when bedding your wife, so why should you ask me?”

  Pearce snorted, rather lasciviously. “You do not have to give us the details,” he said. “And, if you recall, I did tell you about my wedding night.”

  Bric threw up his hands. “You told me of your own free will, Pearce,” he said. “I did not even ask you.”

  Pearce looked at Mylo. “It must have been good,” he said. “If he was not, he would tell us.”

  Bric scowled at the pair. “If you two idiots do not leave my presence, you will sorely regret it.”

  Snickering, Pearce and Mylo wisely headed off to their duties, leaving Bric frowning after them. But even as he turned for the stables again, Bric couldn’t help the fact that his frown turned into a silly grin.

  Thoughts of Eiselle brought on the gesture, as if he were incapable of doing anything else.

  “He’s grinning!”

  It was Keeva’s hissed comment to her husband that had Daveigh rushing to the keep entry to see what she was pointing at.

  “Look!” Keeva said excitedly. “He’s grinning! God’s Teeth, do you think he is actually happy this morning?”

  Daveigh could see what had his wife so delighted – Bric was on the battlements of the inner wall, which was perched atop a massive earth berm, and he was speaking to one of the men, an older man who had also come with Keeva as part of her dowry. It was a man they all knew well and, in particular, a man that Bric had served with in Ireland as a young knight. Bric stood on the battlements, his big arms crossed, smiling as he spoke to the old man.

  Daveigh watched him with some astonishment. “My God,” Daveigh breathed. “He is grinning. That is not an expression I thought to see on his face this morning.”

  “Nor I,” Keeva said. She was wat
ching Bric closely. “Look at him; he seems relaxed and… happy. I do not think I have ever seen him so happy.”

  Daveigh sighed heavily. “Thank God,” he muttered. “Now the man will not kill us in our sleep for forcing a marriage upon him. Do you suppose he even likes it?”

  Keeva was genuinely shocked at what she was seeing. She tore her eyes away from Bric long enough to look at her husband.

  “I do not know,” she said. “But you saw him last night, Daveigh. He never left Eiselle’s side, not once, and he seemed quite kind to her. And when they retired for the evening, do you remember how he fended of an entire room of men so she could flee up the stairs? It was very gallant of him, almost as if he were protecting her.”

  Daveigh was just as surprised as his wife was, over everything. “I saw,” he said. “Bric is a chivalrous man, but what I witnessed last night… that was not mere chivalry. That was a man being protective and attentive to his wife.”

  “Will you ask him if he is happy?”

  Daveigh shook his head firmly. “Not me,” he said. “I do not want to risk having my eyes gouged out. You ask him. He wouldn’t dare strike a woman.”

  As they stood there bickering about who would ask Bric if he was pleased with his marriage, they failed to see Eiselle emerge from the stairwell and approach them from behind.

  Clad in a simple, pale-blue shift with a darker blue surcoat over it, which laced up the sides, her braided hair draped gracefully over one shoulder. Having awoken not long before, she looked fresh and radiant nonetheless, and there was a joy in her heart that had never been there before. It made her step light. The same giddy feelings that had swept her the day before now seemed permanently ingrained, and as she came up behind Keeva and Daveigh, she heard their bickering – something about asking someone a question – and peered over their shoulders to see whom they were speaking of. When she didn’t immediately see anyone, she spoke gaily.