Tall, Dark, and Medieval

by Barbara Devlin

  “What hast thou tried?” Pellier inquired with a grin. “Owing to discretion and my respect for thy wife, know I shall never betray thy confidence, so thou mayest speak with frankness.”

  “I did as thee instructed.” Arucard shrugged. “Naught more.”

  “Art thou joking?” When Arucard indicated otherwise, Pellier sighed and rested his forehead in his palm. “Dost thou mean to tell me thou hast spent a fortnight in thy wife’s bed, thou hast claimed her maidenhead, and thou hast not explored her body?”

  “I have touched her.” In haste, he searched his memory. “We have kissed, we have engaged in intercourse, as thou didst dictate, and I followed thy instructions to the letter.”

  “And that is it?” Pellier furrowed his brow. “My friend, my directions were intended as a start on thy quest for carnal knowledge, the journey of which thou hast yet to complete. Hast thou not surveyed the paradise between her thighs? Hast thou not kissed her nether eye, spelt thy name in her most succulent flesh, suckled the pearl of her desire, or taught her to lick and nurse thy one-eyed horse?”

  At the prospect of such arousing activity, Arucard stammered in disbelief, but his thoughts quickly turned to seductive strategy, with Isolde at the center of his erotic plans.

  “What?” The marshalsea elbowed Arucard. “Art thou shocked?”

  “I know not how to respond.” He swallowed hard. “Is such behavior permissible?”

  “Noble sirrah, what happens in thy connubial quarters stays in thy connubial quarters.” Now Pellier collapsed in a full belly laugh. When at last he quieted, the marshalsea wiped a tear from his cheek. “Arucard, Isolde is thy mate, as charged by the sacrament. Thou hast promised to love and honor thy lady. How thou dost achieve that is up to thee. But if thou canst bring her sweet release and make her scream, the rest is simple.”

  #

  It was an unusually sunny and warm fall afternoon, when Isolde ventured from her chambers in search of food to quiet her grumbling belly. Something about Arucard’s lustful jousting between the sheets spurred a furious appetite. Just as she entered the great hall, she almost collided with her husband.

  “My lady, thou art awake.” With a smile, he whisked a stray tendril from her face. “I had thought, mayhap, we might partake of a ride, as the weather is fine, and I desire thy unreserved company.”

  “My lord, I would love to indulge thee, but I am famished and near wasting.” At that very moment, her tummy emitted thunderous proof of her hunger, and she rolled her eyes as he laughed. “It is thy fault, as thou didst exercise me quite thoroughly this morrow.”

  All levity ceased, and he narrowed his stare, cupped her chin, and gifted her a whisper of a kiss. “Yea, I did, and I right enjoyed myself. But I have a solution that meets both our needs, if thou art amenable to my suggestion.”

  “Oh?” When he took her by the arm and led her into the bailey, she started. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Of course.” In a flash, he lifted her to the saddle of his destrier. “Thou canst come with me.” Then he seated himself behind her, pulled her close to rest against him, tucked his ermine collared cloak about her, grasped the reins, and nipped the crest of her ear. “Or thou canst come with me.”

  “Arucard.” Biting her lip, she shivered, as his rich tone betrayed an underlying meaning she understood too well, and her gut clenched, as they navigated the barbican and then the outer gatehouse. “Thou cannot intend to engage in…that is to say…we cannot possibly…out in the open…oh, thou dost know what I reference.”

  “My naughty wife, I like the way thou dost think.” Once they cleared the castle battlements, he heeled the flanks of his stallion and galloped to the main road, whither he set a blazing pace. “Thither is a nice hilltop with an impressive view of the ocean, from which we might dine on a meal of boiled chicken, grapes, fresh bread, wine, and the gyngerbrede thee dost favor.”

  “What a wonderful idea.” Reclining in his embrace, she squirmed when he nibbled her neck. “My lord, thou art brazen, but I favor that about ye.”

  “And thou art tantalizing beyond compare.” He rounded a bend, steered for the verge, and then charged the hill. “The grass is tall, but hither it is dry, and I have a plan that should provide privacy for my shy bride.”

  “Thou art resourceful, my gallant knight.” As they reached the top of the range, a spectacular vista spread wide before her, and Isolde turned and nuzzled him. “It is beauteous, Arucard. Thank ye, for bringing me hither.”

  “Mayhap we shall consider this our special place.” He drew rein, dismounted, and then lifted her from the saddle. “And we might share this spot in milder seasons.” With his sword, he cut a circular haven amid the thick foliage, which was dormant in the fall, and then untied a blanket from his horse, which he handed to her. “Spread the cover on the ground, whilst I retrieve the sack of food.”

  “Aye, my lord.” She did as he bade and then sat. “This is cozy, just like our own little nest.” As she glanced from left to right, she realized she could not see over the tips of the blades, but situated along the rise, she had an unimpeded outlook of the sea. Everything was perfect, and then she pondered his motives. “Hast thou discovered information relating to my father’s letters and questionable activities? Wherefore dost thou require seclusion?”

  “Aeduuard de Cadby will arrive this eventide to discuss the burgage plots, and he brings additional witnesses.” Squatting beside her, he unpacked the fare. “I shall hear their complaints and seek His Majesty’s counsel on a proper course of action.”

  “But what of my father?” While she had more to protest, he quieted her with a plump and juicy grape. “My lord, thou art distracting me.”

  “Nay, I am tending thy welfare, as a dutiful husband.” As she made to argue, he shoved a portion of chicken into her mouth. “Eat.”

  “Arucard, that is too much,” she said between chokes. “And I wish to know thy plan to deal with my father. He frightens me, as he is cruel, and he will punish me for not responding to his correspondence.”

  “Isolde, as I promised, I will handle thy father and protect thee, so thou dost worry for naught.” Without ceremony, he stuffed a piece of bread between her lips. “And thy primary occupation, as of this moment, is to express thy appreciation my efforts. Art thou not pleased with my gesture of affection?”

  “Is that thy aim?” Now he garnered her interest. “Thou dost wish to demonstrate devotion?”

  “Aye.” Then he shrugged, as he uncorked the wine and took a healthy gulp. “And I thought, perchance, thou mayest want to talk.”

  “About—what?” As he made it clear he had no desire to discuss the predicament with her father, she understood him not. “The castle is in order, we art fully staffed, with the exception of a lady’s maid, and thou hast established the garrison, per the King’s command. What else do we need to discuss?”

  “Well, I wondered if thou art happy?” Exhaling, Arucard scratched his cheek. “As thy happiness is important to me.”

  “Yea, of course, more than ever.” Thrilled by his boldly proclaimed interest in her contentment, she could have danced a jig. Taking his lead, she selected a large grape and fed it to him. “And what of thee?”

  “Aye.” And again he kissed her, but he lingered, and she sighed as a languorous calm settled her nervousness. “Thou art my treasure, Isolde.”

  And that statement inspired all manner of joy, as she relaxed. Peaceful quiet fell over their modest sanctuary, as they ate. And while the minutes ticked past, the gentle breeze rustled through the dry grass, the gulls keened in the distance, and the waves crashed ashore on the beach below, Isolde suspected her husband had not revealed the true motive to their special outing.

  “One piece of gyngerbrede remains.” She held up the tempting confection. “I will half it with thee.”

  “Thou art the soul of generosity.” Despite his grin, she spied distress in his crystal blue eyes.

  “What troubles thee?” After folding the cloths in
which he stowed the food, she scooted closer to him, and, as she anticipated, he lifted her to his lap. Draping an arm about his shoulders, she hugged her husband. “Thou cannot keep secrets from me, as I share thy bed and thy body.”

  “Dost thou enjoy playing my fiddle?” With brows quirked, he grimaced. “Prithee, tell me the truth.”

  Well, she asked. And he most certainly answered.

  “I beg thy pardon?” In her embarrassment, that was the only response Isolde could muster.

  “My lady, thou art an uncommonly intelligent woman.” Was it her imagination, or was he sweating? “Pray, I must know if thou dost find pleasure when I stir thy waters?”

  Convinced thither was something inferior about her, given she had not celebrated their coupling in the demonstrative fashion as had her knight; she knew not how to reply without shaming herself. “Mayhap it is not the same for wives.”

  “I knew it.” Smacking his forehead, he groaned. “This is all my fault.”

  “What?” Shock dispelled the tranquility of their interlude, as she digested his revelation. “Thou dost think thou art to blame?”

  “I am thy husband.” Arucard pressed a fist to his chest. “The responsibility for thy pleasure is mine, and I have failed thee.”

  “Nay, thou hast made too much of it, and I must explain.” Never had Isolde fathomed confessing such embarrassing details, but she had to make him understand. Framing his jaw, she kissed him. “Do not overstate the issue, as it is not so great as thou dost believe. Yea, I cherish our intimacy, as thou dost inspire feelings I never knew existed, when we join our bodies.” He rested his forehead to hers, and she drew strength to continue. “I ache for thee, but the balm doth not quite ease my pain, and wherefore I know not. Rather, it intensifies it, and I am left with a void I can scarcely bear. But I would never refuse thee, because I crave thy touch.”

  “Wherefore hast thou said naught?” In that moment, he settled his palm to her hose-covered calf.

  “My lord, I would not hurt thee or thy pride for anything in the world.” She met his gaze. “And I considered it my deficiency, as thou hast had no problem finding thy release. Thither must be something wrong with me.”

  “Well, thither is a way to find out, if thou art willing.” With his fingers, he walked a path to the inside of her thigh, and she shuddered. “Dost thou trust me?”

  “Always.”

  #

  In a single tear, Arucard ripped the seam of Isolde’s cotehardie. As she reclined on the blanket, with her eyes closed, he all but shredded her chemise and then spread her legs. Once again summoning Pellier’s sage wisdom, he eased between her thighs and cupped her bottom with his hands. Slowly, he bent his head and expelled his breath to her triangle of soft curls, and she bit her fingers and emitted a muffled sob. That singular exhalation presented the greatest response he had ever garnered and did much to bolster his confidence, which he needed just then, so he trailed his tongue along her nether lips.

  With an achingly sweet cry, his wife lauded his efforts, as he repeatedly spelled his name on her pliant folds, and he ventured further into her honey sheath, relishing the hint of lavender mingled with the tart essence that was uniquely hers. When he located what Pellier had referred to as the pearl of her desire, Arucard fastened his mouth about the tiny bud and suckled hard, and his bride bucked and squirmed. And with each successive murmur and wiggle, which he counted as a priceless treasure, he realized he had never felt more a man in his life.

  “Oh.” Yanking his hair, Isolde rolled her head from side to side and then arched her back. “Prithee, Arucard. I can take no more.”

  Anchoring her firmly in his grasp, he licked and laved in a tempting rhythm, until his suddenly not-so-shy lady stretched her limbs, gazed at the sky, and heralded her release with an earsplitting shout of exultation, which echoed on the rocky cliffs. Never had he glimpsed anything so bewitching as his wife in the throes of passion, and a powerful hunger built in his chest and scored a path straight to his crotch.

  In seconds, Arucard doffed his belt, hitched his tunic, untied his leather breeches and linen braies, and entered her in a single potent thrust. How he longed to savor her scorching wet heat, which branded him hers, but, as usual, he drove into her a mere five times before his seed burst forth deep within her.

  Some day, he would linger and luxuriate in her body, but now was not that day.

  Collapsing atop her, he reveled in her ready embrace, as she nestled close. But when he discovered her crying, he propped on an elbow.

  “What is wrong, Isolde?” With care, he placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Did I hurt thee?”

  “Nay.” Tears streamed her temples as she smiled. “Never could I have imagined such sensations, and my emotions have run rampant, such that I cannot contain my joy. If I could describe it to thee, I would, but words fail me.”

  “Art thou trying to tell me I have, at last, pleasured thee?” With the pad of his thumb, he caressed her cheek. “And I did not frighten thee?”

  “That is not possible.” For a while, she stared at him. Then she clutched his wrist and pressed his palm to her lips, and his gut clenched. “At first, when I met thee outside the chapel in London, I pictured so many dreadful things, as thou art quite large and imposing. And when I witnessed thee fight the bandits and de Cadby, thou didst behead a man, and I was terrified of thee, as I suspected I might suffer thy violence. But despite thy incomparable size and strength, thou hast never harmed me.” Then she drew him near and set her mouth to his. “In fact, thou art a most gentle husband.”

  Thither were many things Arucard wanted to tell his wife that afternoon, as she cradled him with her sumptuous thighs. He pondered declarations of devotion and trust, but none seemed sufficient to convey the depth of his regard and commitment. Instead, he took her again and said with his body what he could not voice.

  ARUCARD

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Chichester Castle came into view as Arucard steered his destrier to the south. Given the pleasant afternoon spent in his wife’s company, his mood was light as he pondered the meeting with de Cadby and the locals. And while he should have focused his attention on the impending gathering, a series of memorable feminine screams echoed in his brain, and he hugged Isolde close.

  “I believe I have composed an appropriate pet name for thee.” In play, he rubbed his nose to crest of her ear. “And it is perfect, as art thou.”

  “Oh?” Wrapped in the blanket, because he had destroyed her cotehardie, and riding astride in his lap, she rested against his chest, turned her head, and lifted her chin in position to receive his kiss. “How would thee address me in private, my champion?”

  “Well, thou art sweeter than any confection, which begs a comparison to honey, and I should know, as I sampled thy nectar more than once today.” And then he chuckled, as he revisited recent activities and developments, which had surpassed his expectations. “And it is said that a woman blossoms when she surrenders her maidenhead, but I would argue otherwise. I think ye blossomed when thee experienced thy first release, and I will endeavor to inspire thee in our bed, henceforth. So, combining the two, thou art my honey flower.”

  “Honey flower?” She giggled and then cast him a charming smile. “I like that.”

  “Then it is settled.” And he would carry that bit of information to his grave, as he could only imagine how his brothers would react to that revelation. As he crossed the first drawbridge, he waved to the guards. “And this eventide, when we retire, I shall spread thy petals and make thee sing, honey flower.”

  “Arucard.” Now she burrowed into his tunic. “Thou art shocking.”

  “What?” As he navigated the barbican, he pinched her bottom through the thick cover, and she yelped. “We art married, and the King demands I produce an heir, so I am but following orders.” Then he whispered, “Mayhap I shall teach thee to pleasure my body as I satisfied thee.”

  “Is that permissible?” Was it wishful thinking, or did she see
m interested as she peeked at him? “Thou hast been very naughty.”

  “My lady, what we do in our chambers is our affair.” In his mind, he pictured her taking his man’s yard into her mouth, and the dragon woke. “Wilt thou gainsay what thou hast not tried?”

  “Dost thou truly wish it?” She sat upright and met his stare. “Thou would have me behave in such a manner, and thou dost encourage my adventurous nature?”

  “Aye.” As they entered the courtyard, he noted several horses tied neared the stable. “I adore thy adventurous nature, and I have scarcely wanted anything more.”

  “My lord.” Pellier rushed forward. “Young de Cadby and his supporters have arrived. Margery hath installed them in the great hall.”

  “I should see to thy refreshments.” Clutching the blanket, Isolde scooted forward, as Arucard dismounted and then handed her down. “But first I require a change of clothing in order to properly address our guests.”

  “And I shall inquire after their comfort.” Disappointment sank into his bones as she strolled toward their quarters. But at the last second, she peered over her shoulder, and Arucard arched a brow in question.

  “By thy command, I am at thy service.” Then she stuck her tongue in her cheek. “And at thy earliest convenience, I shall fulfill thy humble request. Thou wilt be sure to let me know when that might be, as I would not wait too long.”

  And so it was with a spring in his step and wicked thoughts swirling in his mind that Arucard ventured to greet his visitors. When he strolled into the cavernous hall, Aeduuard stood from his chair, and Arucard extended his hand in friendship. “De Cadby, welcome to Chichester Castle.”

  “My lord.” With an exaggerated bow, Aeduuard grinned and then rocked on his heels. “Or should I call thee Sir Arucard, as thou hast so many titles? Hast thou a preference?”

  “I do not stand on formalities with friends, and I consider thee as much.” Situated at a place of honor at the head of the table, Arucard paused to acknowledge the other wronged landowners. “Good eventide, and thank ye for coming on such short notice. As the new earl of Sussex, I am charged with dispensing His Majesty’s justice and overseeing the garrison in this region, and it is my responsibility to determine the validity of the burgage plots, as well as the perpetrator of the scheme.”