“My wife,” he whispered, his voice deep with wonder. “You are my wife.”
Stunned by the intensity of what showed in his gaze Kate let him take her back to the bedchamber. Not until the priest, Rafe’s brother, the bailiff and his wife followed them into that wee room did her shyness reclaim Kate. Lord, but she didn’t like exposing herself to others. To distract herself from the discomfort of it, she reminded herself of the pleasure she found in Rafe’s arms.
Across the chamber Rafe disrobed on his own. There really wasn’t room for his brother to help him, especially with the bathtub yet in the way. Instead Will Godsol remained just inside the doorway alongside the other witnesses to this rite.
Once Rafe had hung his tunic on a bedpost and tossed his shirt over it, he bent to remove his shoes. His chausses followed in swift order, the stockings left to lie beside his feet after he had stripped them from his legs. As he straightened Kate stared at her new husband, beyond words.
How could she ever have thought his frame too bulky or unattractive? Day’s light gleamed against the powerful lines of Rafe’s body. Shadows marked the masculine rise and fall of his chest. His hips were lean, his legs long. Indeed, so powerful did he look that Kate might have been intimidated save that the heat his touch always made in her returned. This was all the more stunning because he wasn’t even touching her yet.
“Kate?” Rafe prodded, the quirk of his brow reminding her that it was her turn.
At least there was nothing complicated about her disrobing. Keeping her gaze fixed on her new husband’s face Kate drew a bracing breath and let the blanket fall. Only the fact that there wasn’t a single ribald jest from those who watched made the moment tolerable.
Across the bed from her Rafe swallowed. His expression softened, his eyes closing part way as he studied her. His gaze felt like a caress against her skin.
“I see no flaw,” he said, his voice thick.
“Nor do I,” Kate whispered, saying her part.
“Good enough,” the priest said, his tone businesslike. “Once the consummation is complete this marriage will be legal in all ways. Come,” he said to the other witnesses, “we’ll leave them to their duty.”
Duty. Kate’s stomach tightened. It was the sound of Lady Adele’s voice she heard in the priest’s words.
Kate glanced at Rafe. His gaze was yet fixed on her. It was anything but Lady Adele’s description of marital duty that she saw reflected in the gleam of his eyes. Deep in Kate the embers of yesterday’s pleasure stirred with violence enough to make her shudder. Her trembling made Rafe’s expression soften until the longing to touch her glowed in his face.
The door closed behind their paltry four attendants. There wasn’t so much as a jest or shout from those on the other side. Instead the sounds of normal conversation rose from the hall. Wood banged against wood as tables were erected in preparation for the breaking of the fast. Relief rushed through Kate as she realized there’d be no shivaree for her.
Rafe came around the bed to stand before her, his eyes as black as night. “God help me, but you’re lovely,” he breathed, “and you’re mine.”
Reaching out, he traced a finger along the outer roundness of her breast then his touch blazed a path down the inward curve of her waist. Kate quaked against his caress. How could the mere brush of his fingertip set her skin afire?
His hand descended to her hip, then returned to cup her breast in his palm. His thumb brushed its crest. It was as if she’d swallowed a candle’s flame. Heat jumped and darted within her. The throbbing at her woman’s core owned her, once more demanding the pleasure he’d given her last night.
Driven by that need, Kate reached out to touch him. Out of the depths of her memory came ancient warnings. Both Lady Adele and the de Fraisney’s priest had allowed that she might touch Richard and his shaft only as much as was necessary to put seed into her womb. Any touch beyond that, they nightly lectured, was prohibited by God. She caught back her hand.
Impatience flared. What was she doing, denying herself? Hadn’t she already determined that she was no dutiful daughter, but a lightskirt bent on passion?
With that goal fixed in her heart Kate laid her hand against her husband’s chest. His heartbeat was strong and certain against her palm. The dark hair that covered his skin was springy beneath her fingers. She smoothed her hand against his flesh. The warmth in her grew warmer still. Lord, but touching him made her feel as if she was being touched as well.
A deep, dark sound rumbled from Rafe. Kate fought a smile. It was a lion’s purr.
Once again his thumb moved against her breast. Sensation darted through Kate, leaving her gasping in its wake. She fell against him. Rafe’s arms closed around her, pulling her closer still until Kate swore every inch of their bodies touched. The fullness of his shaft pressed against her belly.
He was ready for her too soon when there was so much more they might do between them. Even as Kate lifted her head to beg that they wait a little, Rafe’s lips laid claim to hers one more time. The dance of his mouth atop hers was demanding and pleading all in one instant. Kate again melted, feeling the wetness seep from her woman’s core. So lost was she in sensation that she barely noticed when Rafe lifted her in his arms.
A tiny sound of complaint left her when he laid her upon the mattress. It was cold without his body next to hers. A moment later, and he lay atop her. He lowered his mouth to kiss her breast.
This time there was no fabric between his lips and her flesh. Kate gasped as he suckled, crying out with a pleasure beyond all understanding.
Then, as he’d done the previous night, his fingers found her nether lips. Again his touch sent Kate reeling. It didn’t matter that those in the hall might hear her. She couldn’t stop her cries. Just when Kate thought for certain she might die from sheer enjoyment, she caught his hand.
Rafe raised his head from her breast. “What? Will you complain already, wife, that your husband doesn’t please you?” he whispered, the corners of his mouth twitching against a smile.
Kate laughed, the sound broken and panting against his sweet torment. “You know full well you please me,” she managed. “But what of you? How can I let you give me so much pleasure when I don’t return the favor?”
Rafe’s eyes lit up in astonishment. “Return the favor?” he asked, sounding almost confused.
Twining her fingers in his, Kate brought his captive hand to her lips and pressed a kiss to its back. “I am ignorant,” she complained softly. “Until last even I didn’t even know there could be pleasure in bedding. Now I must educate myself. I would touch you, until I find the way to make you cry out as you make me.”
As she spoke she freed his hand to lay her own on his shoulder. She stroked her palm up the length of his neck then traced a finger around the circle of his ear. Rafe shuddered. His eyes closed.
“Jesu,” he breathed as he slid off her to lie at her side.
Kate combed her fingers into his hair. Yet cool and damp from washing, the strands curled about her hand. Shifting on the mattress until she faced him, she traced a fingertip down the length of his nose then outlined the curl of his lips. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. Kate gasped as his tongue touched that sensitive flesh, then laughed and jerked her hand from his grasp.
“Nay,” she chided. She pushed Rafe until he lay upon his back on the mattress. She raised herself upon her elbow to look down on him.
“Nay?” Rafe asked, his gaze afire with need of her.
“Nay,” Kate repeated, leaning to place a kiss at the place where his neck met his shoulder. Just as he’d done to her, she touched a line of kisses down his chest until her mouth rested against his nipple. “I am touching you, not you me,” she breathed against his sensitive flesh.
Rafe shuddered. His hands came to clasp at Kate’s waist. “Jesu,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
Kate smiled. Laying her head upon his chest, she slipped her hand down Rafe’s abdomen to his shaft. Her first
husband had needed to be coaxed into readiness to take her. Not so Rafe. Still, Kate curled her fingers around that part of him most male. Gently, carefully, as she’d been taught, Kate stroked.
Rafe bucked a little beneath her, gasping, then caught her by the wrist. “Jesus God,” he panted, “don’t.”
Only now did the worry that she’d gone too far, that Rafe didn’t want so bold a wife, prick at Kate. Lifting herself off him, she looked at her husband. A frown touched his brow, hot color marked the line of his cheekbones and glowed in his eyes. The line of his mouth was impossibly soft.
“Kate, I’m fair dying for you.” His voice was rough and hoarse. “Touch me again like that, and I may well spill my seed.”
Confusion tugged at Kate. “That is bad?”
That slow smile Kate so loved once more tugged at Rafe’s lips. “It is when I want our first lovemaking as man and wife to please you as well as it does me. Once we’ve shared our pleasure, I vow--oh God how I vow,” he added in a heated whisper, “that you may make your acquaintance with every inch of me at your leisure.” Anticipation of their future joy colored the fine lines of Rafe’s face.
Understanding that Rafe meant to indulge in this sharing of sensation for as long as they both pleased weakened Kate’s elbow. She slid down to lie beside him on the bed. No longer interested in postponing this moment, she caught him by the arm to urge him atop her. “Come,” she begged him, “show me again that there is no pain in coupling.”
Rafe shifted atop her with a quiet growl. His shaft came to rest between her thighs. Kate held her breath but there was no need. Just as it had happened the first time, he easily found its home within her.
For a long moment Rafe held himself still within her. The delay only gave the alien fullness within Kate time to become something far more enjoyable. The need to move as she had the previous night grew with every breath, but even as heat again throbbed in her she waited for Rafe.
His eyes closed. His brow pinched in a frown. Still, he delayed.
At last Kate could bear it no longer. She lifted her hips and was rewarded by a shimmering taste of the joy to come. Rafe gasped. He dropped to lie full upon her.
“God help me, but I cannot stop myself. I want you so,” he growled. Then, once more claiming her mouth as his, he thrust into her.
The heat at Kate’s core exploded with his motion. It drove her to meet his next thrust. Rafe moaned against her mouth. Panting now, he began to move in earnest.
With each shift of his body on hers Kate’s pleasure swirled higher. Her fingers dug into his back. Her arms tightened around him. Her hips clung to his. Every inch of her body clamored that she again find the joy she knew Rafe could make in her.
Rafe’s breathing grew ragged and hoarse then he cried out and arched above her. Kate swore she could feel his seed enter her even as she once more lost herself in that sea of joy.
“My God, my God,” Rafe breathed, relaxing atop her. He caught her face in his hands then pressed sweet kisses to her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids, her lips. “Kate,” he demanded softly between kisses, “tell me that you love me.”
That he needed to hear her words of love turned Kate’s joy into something far deeper. She clasped her arms around him, her heart aching as she held her husband against her. “I love you, and only you,” she told him, yet breathless from their wondrous play, their lovemaking.
As if nothing in the world could have pleased him more Rafe groaned and caught her mouth with his. His kiss was warm and sweet. The pressure in Kate’s heart grew until she had to smile. Her husband. Oh, to have Rafe and this happiness he made in her for all the rest of her days!
Rafe raised himself on an elbow above her. Kate cried out at this, needing his closeness almost more than she needed to breathe. He but smiled at her, his grin languid, the slow curl of his mouth sending another shiver through her.
“My kiss amuses you?” he asked, his brows raised as if this was a serious question.
“Never,” Kate replied. “Your kisses do nothing but stir my passion and remind me that it is you who owns my heart. Never leave me,” she commanded him, her arms tightening around him.
He laughed quietly. “Ah, now that I’ve convinced you that procreation is but a wee part of lovemaking, you intend to keep me, is that it?” It was a gentle taunt, delivered with a kiss to soothe any sting his words might offer.
“In a nutshell,” Kate replied. The idle thought that Lady Adele had known there could be this sort of joy between a man and a woman stirred in her. Adele’s tales and rules now seemed a way to keep Kate from ever seeking out the joy Adele knew she would never have with Richard.
A sudden wee smile touched Kate’s lips. She knew even more than that. Because she’d tested what she’d learned with Rafe on Warin, she knew that only Rafe’s touch made her heart sing and her pulse race. There was no other man for her. Rafe surely was her one true love.
Once again her arms tightened around the man who was both her lover and her husband. “Vow to me that you’ll never cease to love me with your body and your words.”
Rafe laughed. “I so vow, but only if you promise the same.”
Kate smiled. “I do,” she told him then her stomach growled. She glanced at the tray on the chest beside the bed. “We should eat before the bread dries.”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said then stifled a yawn, reminding Kate that he’d had even less sleep than she since they had left Haydon. “And after we’ve eaten we should probably sleep a little.”
Despite his words, he didn’t roll off her but lowered his head to touch his lips to the curve of her neck. The very heat of his breath against her skin sent a whole new wave of sensation shooting through Kate. Hunger and exhaustion died as that wondrous craving for his lovemaking reawakened.
A moment later when he did shift to the side, Kate followed, until they lay face to face. He raised a hand to trace a finger along the curve of her cheek.
“Shall we eat in bed and sleep among the crumbs or leave the bed and feed the rats with our leftovers?” he asked.
She reached out to stroke her hand down the strong planes of his chest, wondering if she might use what Lady Adele had taught her to wring what she wanted from him. “I think we should wait a bit before we eat. Are you certain that we’ve done all well enough to make this marriage truly legal?”
He shuddered a little at her caress, the softness of desire returning to his face. A breath of a laugh left Kate. Oh, but there was pleasure indeed to be found in this lovemaking.
Her hand descended past his waist. Again he shuddered, this time catching his breath. There wasn’t much life left in his shaft but Kate knew how to rectify that. Again she curled her hand about his shaft and, just as Lady Adele had instructed, began restoring strength to that part of him most male.
Rafe gasped. His eyes flew wide. Rather than grab her hand to stop her as Kate expected, he caught the sheets in his fists. Kate smiled. So he didn’t wish that she should stop this, eh?
“Who taught you that?” he demanded, his voice hoarse as newly restored desire flickered in his gaze.
“Adele de Fraisney,” Kate replied around her laugh, “so I might make a man out of her childish son. Until now I never realized how useful this particular lesson might be. Do you mind?”
Rafe shivered. The same need that once more burned in her took fire in his eyes. “God no. Come wife, surprise me. Show me what else you know.”
“Aye, it’s armed men coming, right enough.”
Will Godsol’s call echoed down from Glevering’s walls into the morning-brightened yard then flew like a bolt past Rafe through the hall’s open door to pierce Kate. Although she’d expected this moment--indeed, had believed it might arrive yesterday, the day of her marriage--the bread in her hand crumbled like her heart. Terror closed its burly arms around her as it had in the middle of last night when the enormity of what she’d done came home to roost.
Legitimate or not, her marriage to Rafe would
n’t stand before her father’s hatred of the Godsols. If her sire wanted to regain control of his daughter and her dowry, all he need do was make her a widow for a second time. And he wouldn’t hesitate at that. He’d already tried twice to kill Rafe.
“How many?” her new husband called back to his brother.
“There’s a hundred of them if there’s ten,” came Will’s reply. “I can but read the shields of the foremost. It’s the bishop who leads, with Bagot, Haydon, and the countess’s marshal behind them.”
The certainty that she was going to lose the happiness she’d just found brought Kate up from the breakfast table. With the laundress still working to remove stains from the fragile silk of her blue overgown she’d borrowed a red gown from Dame Joan to wear over her freshly laundered yellow undergown. Although the outer garment was belted tightly about her waist, it was still far too large.
When she joined her new husband in the doorway Rafe extended an arm, inviting his wife into his embrace. Wrapping her arms around his waist, Kate leaned her cheek against his shoulder. The weave of his gray linen tunic felt nubby against her skin. The heat of his body embraced her. Tears rose. She couldn’t lose him; they’d had but one day together.
How was it possible she had come to care so deeply for a man she’d met less than a week ago? Then again, how could she help but love him? Last night, between wondrous bouts of lovemaking, they’d talked, trading secrets and stories of their pasts. Rafe confided his dreams for Glevering, dreams that included her at his side during every day of many long and happy years. That he should imagine such a life with her did more to secure Kate’s heart than any touch he laid upon her. And there it was, her love for him, well and truly lodged in her heart. This was how marriage should be between a man and woman, a husband and wife, not what Lady Adele had taught her. Kate couldn’t, wouldn’t let her father cheat her of what she’d won simply because he hated Rafe’s name. Her arms tightened about his waist as if her touch could somehow keep him safe.
The Warrior's Wife Page 23
