The Warrior's Wife

by Denise Domning

  “Now that we’ve settled that,” he continued, his smile fading and his eyes narrowing, “you’ll hold your tongue, or I vow I’ll cut it from your mouth and make of you a perfect wife. Don’t think I won’t. Just you remember the tap you took from me was a gentle caress by the standard for my beatings.”

  Again Kate’s hand tried to rise, this time seeking to cup her jaw, and again her hand came up short. He’d slapped her after her second escape attempt when she’d yanked the palfrey’s reins from his grasp and kicked the horse into a gallop. That attempt had been better planned, failing only because the palfrey was a horrid, stupid creature. Rather than race in the direction Kate aimed it, the foul beast circled and dashed right past Warin, who’d caught the reins with ease. His blow had been only strong enough to startle her, giving him the chance to overpower her once again.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance. Nearer to home the earth loosed a long sigh, the chill breath filled with the promise of rain. Above Kate tree branches rattled; the greenery blanketing the forest floor tossed.

  Never intended for riding, the skirts of her finery weren’t wide enough to cover all of her legs as she sat astride Warin’s palfrey. Fingers of moist, cold air snaked up her indecently exposed legs, waking gooseflesh where her stockings, gartered below her knees, didn’t cover her skin.

  It was one more humiliation in a day of humiliation. The unfairness of how Warin misused her ripped through her, all the stronger because she’d intended to protect him from the others’ scorn. Anger followed, growing until it ate up all her sense.

  “Gentle?” she scoffed, her hoarsened voice ringing up into the trees around them.

  She lifted her jaw to a defiant angle. “There is nothing gentle about you. Such a word applies to men of quality. You’re naught but a sham of a knight, a traitor, who betrays his oath of loyalty. Any fate is better than marriage to you.”

  As she spoke she boldly yanked on her trapped wrists. She needed him to know that she wasn’t cowed by his brutality, that despite his threats, she wasn’t afraid of him. Not even the gathering shadows could mask the way Warin’s face darkened at her slurs.

  “I told you to hold your tongue, bitch.” His voice was low and dangerous.

  Above them a streak of lightening flashed across the sky. The thrumming of God’s drum followed then rain pattered onto the leafy canopy overhead, droplets finding their way earthward, splashing against Kate’s uncovered head and ruining her expensive attire. It was this last insult, the destruction of her finery, that did it.

  She leaned forward in her saddle to make certain her next words did Warin as much damage as possible. “More fool me for ever thinking you worthy of my affections,” she taunted him. A wee part of her warned that provoking him wasn’t wise, but she was too irate to heed so small a voice. “I say that if what you claim is true and Sir Ralf Godsol carries my ribbon, then I’m glad of it. All you and your foul trick at the joust did was sully my token and prove Sir Ralf in every way the better man, Godsol or not.”

  “Whore!” Warin screamed, the raging word shooting upward to pierce the low-hanging clouds. Lightning flashed in its wake.

  He yanked the palfrey’s reins loose from his saddle and turned his big steed. The two horses stood shoulder to shoulder, the palfrey dancing nervously to one side. Before Kate knew what he meant to do, Warin struck. Her neck wrenched. Her head snapped to the side. She slid in the saddle, her cheek on fire, this blow more than strong enough to leave a mark.

  The palfrey bucked a little at this new and even stranger behavior. Gasping, Kate clutched at the pommel, her ears yet ringing as her fingernails dug into the wood. If she fell while yet tied to this stupid beast, the foul creature might trample her. A moment later, the horse calmed. Kate straightened in the saddle to glare at Warin.

  “Beg my pardon,” Warin demanded, his hand raised for another blow, “and know that if you ever again speak the name of that bitch’s son, I’ll kill you.”

  Even as the brutal words left his lips, his head turned to the woods behind them. He lowered his hand a little. Only then did Kate hear the crack and snap of something moving through the bracken. Hope surged that this was her rescue. Kate wrenched herself as far around in her saddle as she could to see.

  “I have them!” The man’s howling shout rang through the trees, the sound of it both joyous and vicious in one instant. “To me, to me,” he shouted, suggesting others followed.

  In that instant, whistles and shouts erupted from the woods around Kate and Warin. Even as Kate grinned in relief God’s fire lit up the clouds. In that brief flash of unnatural light she saw her rescuer’s sword raised on high. His cloak hood was pulled low over his brow, the sides of the garment flying back from his body as he raced toward them.

  Hope and relief died into horror. It wasn’t Haydon’s green and yellow or a knight’s mail he wore but mere leather. An outlaw! God help her, but she was done for and in the most horrible way possible.

  With a growl Warin drew his weapon and spurred his horse to face the oncoming man. From some corner of his tired heart the black found new strength, only to use it to strike out at the palfrey beside him. Warin cursed and released the smaller horse’s reins to shoulder his shield.

  Kate gaped at the palfrey’s dragging leather leads. It was a cruel mockery of the freedom she so needed, come both too late and before she could make use of it. With no controlling hand on him the palfrey bucked, wanting only to rid himself of his loathsome rider.

  Holding tight and praying, Kate heard metal clash as Warin’s sword met that of his attacker. Again lightning flashed, bright enough this time for it to blind her. Thunder crashed from directly above her the sound so loud that it seemed as if the sky had split. The palfrey screamed. It lifted, pawing at the air then tore off across the rugged landscape.

  Cursing herself, Warin and her sire all at once, Kate lay low against the saddle and held on with all her might. Rain pelted her face. Trees loomed up before her, bushes rushed past, branches tearing and scratching.

  Of a sudden there was another horse running alongside her. Cloaked against the rain, its rider caught the palfrey’s dragging reins. Even so short a freedom was too fearsome for the palfrey; he readily relented and slowed, not caring that his new owner was an outlaw.

  Awash in terror Kate came upright in her saddle. Every horrid act Lady Adele claimed befell errant women rose up to torture her. With all her might she yanked on her trapped arms. The fabric gave. Her hands flew apart, one fist striking her attacker.

  He grasped at her hand. Kate shrieked, the sound ripping at her poor aching throat. She thrust away from him and more fell than dismounted. Scrabbling to her feet in the moist earth, she raced off on legs made rubbery by so long a time on a horse.

  In that moment the clouds above her released everything they held. Rain poured down in torrents. Kate aimed for the nearest and thickest of the shadows around her, praying for some sort of hiding spot.

  Her feet slid in newborn mud. Crying out, she caught at a tree trunk to keep from falling. Rough bark gouged her palms. A hand closed on her shoulder.

  Bounding away, her heart in her throat, Kate sprang over a bushy fern, then around a thick bole. Fingers curled into the neckline of her gown. She screamed, flailing as she fell. He caught his arms about her waist, and together they tumbled to the ground. Turning in his embrace, Kate scratched and clawed, fighting for her life.

  “Stop, Kate,” a gasping Rafe Godsol said as he turned his face from her attack, “it’s me.”

  Kate’s relief and joy were so great that she fair melted into the earth beneath her. It was Rafe. She was saved. Tears burned in her eyes. As she blinked them back, every one of her aches began to throb and her cuts to burn.

  Lord, but she was soaked through and through. Her hair was a muddy mass streaming across her face and tangling about her body. And she was cold.

  Her teeth chattered. Her shivering spread until she quaked. The only thing keeping her from rattling to
pieces was the wondrous warmth of Rafe’s body as he lay atop her.

  An instant later Rafe rolled to one side and sat up, taking both his warmth and the shield his body had offered against the rain. Icy droplets stung her face. With a tiny cry Kate reached out, wanting his warmth once again. Instead Rafe caught her hands and stood up, pulling her to her feet after him.

  Kate threw herself at her rescuer. Wrapping her arms about his waist, she burrowed beneath his cloak, ducking her whole head beneath his outer garment and pressing her face into the protection of his shoulder. Oh, but he was warm. Droplets pattered against his outer garment, but none of it reached her. She breathed. His leather hauberk smelled of wind and rain.

  More than that, he had rescued her. The man who loved her was also her savior. Craving his strength and the safety she found next to him, Kate curled closer.

  He made a surprised sound even as he closed his arms about her and held her against him. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re warm.” Her teeth yet clattered. “I’m cold.”

  “No surprise that,” he said, a touch of amusement in his voice. “You’re soaked.”

  Kate only murmured her agreement. Her eyes closed. Nothing else mattered save that it was heaven to stand so close to him. He took a step.

  “Don’t move,” she commanded, her arms around his waist tightening as if she could hold him in place.

  “I’m not going far,” he replied, “only into the shelter of this tree. Hold tight,” he warned.

  Kate clung to him as he lifted her just enough to lift her feet off the ground. He stepped backward until the pattering on his cloak died into the occasional drip. He leaned just a little, the movement suggesting he used the tree trunk as a prop. When he was settled, he pulled his cloak around them both, leaving but a narrow strip of her back exposed to the air. One of his hands slid up that expanse, as if he meant to warm her with his touch.

  “I have a garment you can wear,” he offered. “It’s not much, but it will warm you and shield you from the rain.”

  “Not yet,” Kate replied, pressing her cheek against his vest until she could feel the beat of his heart through it. With every breath his heat flowed into her, driving away the cold. “Mayhap in a few moments.”

  His laugh was as warm as he. “Don’t hurry on my account. I must admit I find your closeness more than pleasant.”

  As he spoke his hand again moved along her back in a slow caress. Kate shivered, but this time it had naught to do with being cold. What was it about love that woke such wondrous sensations? More to the point, it was a terrible shame that such sensations were to be resisted and not indulged.

  Still pondering this conundrum, she lifted her head out of his cloak and pushed wet strands of hair from her face to better see him. His face was a pale gleam in the night but not even darkness was enough to conceal his smile. Kate’s heart quivered. Oh, how she liked the way his lips curled when he grinned.

  From the depths of her mind came a new image to take the place of the one of forced marriage that had haunted her these past hours. In this one she was mounted on Rafe’s big steed as he led that horse through Haydon’s gates. It was early, mayhap dawn. In her imagining, Rafe wore his gleaming mail. She looked as fine as she had this morn, before Warin kidnapped her and ruined all.

  She smiled. This was vindication, indeed. Not only would Warin be punished for what he’d done but her father would face his comeuppance for his wrongdoing. On the morrow her sire would have to admit to every man at Haydon Castle that Rafe Godsol was an honorable knight. It was a frisson of triumph that trembled its way down Kate’s spine this time. Her rescuer mistook it for another shiver.

  “Here,” Rafe said, turning her until she lay against his chest, half tucked beneath his arm. He rearranged his cloak so it covered all of her but left half of him exposed to the elements.

  “You’ll be cold now,” she warned him. From miles away, thunder rumbled, the sound but an echo of the storm’s earlier rage. The rain slowed to a bare patter in the leaves above her.

  “Not with you against me,” he said, his voice low and suddenly hoarse. “Never with you at my side,” he whispered, bending his head as he prepared to kiss her.

  Kate told herself there wasn’t time enough to consider resisting him. It was a lie. She wanted his kiss.

  His mouth came to a rest on hers. Soft and warm, his lips moved on hers. Kate loosed a shaken sigh, relishing the taste and feel of his mouth on hers. It was all the more precious because she hadn’t expected to ever again enjoy the sensation.

  Even though his caress was quiet and gentle, her skin took fire. Her heart lifted to a new beat. Kate’s eyes closed as a spark flared in that hidden place deep within her. Its heat was strong enough to shake her.

  Of its own accord one of her hands slipped up his chest and over his shoulders until her fingers rested against the warm, bare skin of his nape. Shielded by the hood of his cloak, his hair was only a little damp. She caught a curl, winding it around her finger. Rafe made a quiet, pleased sound at her play.

  That tiny flame at Kate’s center throbbed in the most extraordinary way. She toyed with his hair, this time using her fingers as a comb. Rafe caught his breath against her lips. Again, the heat at Kate’s core reacted. Lord, how was it possible that touching him could make her feel as if she was being touched?

  The need for more of this teased Kate into tracing her nails down the length of his nape. A sound like unto a growl rumbled deep in Rafe’s chest. His arms tightened around her as a shiver racked him.

  “Jesu!” he breathed, then pleaded against her mouth. “Do it again.”

  A strange sense of power washed over Kate. She hadn’t considered that she could give him the same sort of pleasure that he gave her. As commanded, she again traced her nails down his nape. Rafe trembled against her. The movement of his body against hers woke a throbbing deep within her.

  His breathing rough and ragged, Rafe caught her face in his hands as he drew back from her. With a wee sound of disappointment, Kate opened her eyes and stared up through the darkness into his face. His thumbs stroked across the fullness of her cheeks.

  “God help me but you cannot know how much I need you, Kate,” he whispered.

  His words tore at the glorious sensations that held Kate in thrall to make room for another round of Lady Adele’s many warnings. Kate slammed the door on that voice. She didn’t want to think about why she couldn’t have Rafe. She didn’t even want to think about why it was wrong to touch Rafe. All she wanted was more of the pleasure they made together.

  Joining her hands at his nape, Kate pulled herself closer to him. This time it was her mouth that claimed his. He groaned against her assault then kissed her in return. All gentleness was gone. Instead his mouth slashed across hers, demanding something from her that Kate couldn’t identify.

  That spark within her exploded into blazing flame, the intensity so stunning that Kate lost herself in it. She didn’t feel them move but of a sudden, it was she who leaned against the tree trunk, his cloak caught behind her. His mouth left hers to blaze a trail of kisses across her cheek to her ear. Every inch of Kate’s body came to life. She prayed he’d never stop.

  His free hand closed over her breast. Soaked silken gowns were no bar to sensation. His hand was warm, nay, hot. So thin was the fabric that she could feel the calluses that marked his palm against her flesh. All on its own, Kate’s body arched to press her womanly fullness more completely into his hand.

  From deep within her a tiny voice screamed that this would lead to sin, that she’d rue what she did here. Rafe moved his thumb across the crest of her breast. Pleasure washed over Kate in a great wave, drowning the voice along with all caution and concern. All she could do was cry out and again arch into his caress.

  Rafe’s mouth returned to claim hers once more. His hand stroked down the ruined silk of her garments until his fingers rested against the base of her belly. Shock rattled Kate. Even as her mouth yet clung to his,
her hands came to splay against his chest to stop him. Before she had a chance to push him away Rafe’s fingers slid between her thighs to rest against her nether lips.

  Even with cloth between her and his touch the sensation was white hot. It stabbed through her, weakening every muscle in her body. Kate cried out against Rafe’s mouth.

  His fingers moved. Kate gasped. She melted; she could feel the wetness between her legs.

  Again his fingers moved. Kate’s knees gave way. Together, their lips still joined, she and Rafe slid down the tree trunk and came to rest in a bed of last year’s leaf mold, Kate beneath Rafe.

  His vest’s leather lacing bit into her breasts. His legs straddled one of her thighs. Ah, but none of this mattered as his fingers once more stroked her nether lips.

  The heat in Kate grew to an inferno. She gasped. She shook. Her body arched. On their own her legs spread.

  She panted. So did Rafe. His mouth left hers to press a kiss to her brow then ply a line of kisses down her neck. Kate trembled when he didn’t stop at her collarbone but lowered his mouth to the peak of her yet fabric-clad breast. At that same instant he stroked her nether lips.

  All Kate’s capacity to think died. There was nothing left within her now save wave after wave of glorious pleasure. It left her naught but liquid at her core. Lost in this hopeless state she tore her mouth from his and cried out.

  Groaning, Rafe sat up. Kate moaned at the loss of his caresses, missing the warmth and rightness of his weight on her. She started to sit up, meaning to catch him back to her, when suddenly his fingers returned to her nether lips. But this time, her gowns were no longer in the way.

  The feel of his bare fingers against her naked flesh was so startling, so shocking and so wonderful that Kate sank back to the ground, her whole body quaking. An instant later and Rafe once more lay atop her. His vest was gone, as were his tunic and shirt.

  The heat of his bare flesh seared Kate. Gasping, she wrapped her arms around him then exulted in the feel of her breasts pressed against the strength of his chest. Rafe made a sound that tangled yearning and need, then shifted so that he no longer straddled her thigh but lay in the vee of her legs. It was the head of his shaft Kate felt at the entrance to her woman’s core.