The bed was in his line of sight but he didn’t move for it. But he did let a hand drift down her slender torso, feeling her warmth beneath him, before moving up to cup a full breast. That pleasure, he would not deny himself. It was selfish and he knew it, but he wanted to touch her, to feel that fleshly fullness in his hand.
Liselotte flinched when he squeezed gently but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t even pull away when he carefully pulled her dress off her shoulder, pulling it down her arm, loosening the stays in the back just enough to be able to pull the dress and shift off of her breast, exposing it to the warm room. She didn’t stop him at all.
His bare palm went to her naked breast and he fondled her gently, feeling her quiver at his touch, so much so that her knees actually went weak and he found himself supporting her. He kissed her passionately as he fondled her, her hard nipple against his palm, but he could stand it no longer and his mouth left hers, moving to the taut nipple and suckling firmly against it.
In his arms, Liselotte bucked and groaned, but she didn’t push him away. Her hands were in his hair, holding him to her breast, as he suckled the nipple and then lapped his tongue over the breast, beneath and on top of it, moving to suckle the soft skin of her shoulder, before moving back to the nipple. He wanted more.
He had to have more.
The dress came off of both shoulders and now he had both breasts to suckle from. His mouth moved between them as he held her with one arm and began lifting her skirts with the other. He was intoxicated with her as he’d never been intoxicated with a woman before, not ever. Whatever he was feeling for Liselotte was blinding his senses and curbing his reason, and all those thoughts of not wanting to ruin anything between them fell by the wayside. He was wrapped up in desire such as he had never known.
He was wrapped up in her.
Somehow, they ended up on the bed in spite of his resolve not to. Her breasts were naked and he was feasting on them, and his right hand had made it under her skirts to her silken legs, and he was fondling the flesh of her thighs, acquainting her with his touch, before moving to the damp curls between her legs. Her virginal body was reacting to his touch, instinctively, and he gently stroked the thick lips, wet with moisture, and it was nearly too much for him to take. Her body was prepared for his entry and he knew it. His manhood was stiff and throbbing, straining against his breeches. It would have been so simple to take her at this moment.
So very simple….
But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Above his instinctive need, something held him back. Frustrated at his control, torn by his emotions, he couldn’t hold back completely from her and inserted a finger into her virginal core, feeling the tight wet heat around his digit. But it was mistake; Liselotte, in the throes of her first sexual experience, groaned as his finger entered her, arching her back and bringing up her knees in an innate response to his probing.
Daniel groaned alongside her, now utterly numb to his restraint. He reached down and unfastened his breeches, allowing his heated rod to spring free. As he inserted a second finger into Liselotte’s virginal body, feeling her barrier of virginity against his flesh, he lowered himself down on top of her and rubbed his manhood against the skin of her inner thigh. But with his last ounce of reason, he wouldn’t do anymore, stroking his manroot against her as his fingers began to move in and out of her, mimicking the sexual act he so badly wanted to complete with her.
It was made worse by the fact that Liselotte’s body was responding to what he was doing, a natural rhythm as her hips moved against his hand. His mouth was on her breasts, sucking her, as his fingers moved and his hips moved, grinding himself against her leg as his entire body strained. He even shifted his hips so that the tip of his phallus rubbed against her wet heat, jealous of what his fingers were doing. Jealous of the fact that his hand was claiming a part of her body meant only for his manhood.
Daniel was going to climax; he knew he was but he didn’t care. He continued to rub himself against her, feeling her wetness on the tip of his phallus, hating himself for employing such control for once in his life. He wanted the woman so badly he could taste it. Feeling his climax coming on, he withdrew his fingers from her body, using them instead to manipulate the bud of pleasure between her legs.
Liselotte’s reaction was instantaneous; her body began to convulse with the thrill of her first release and Daniel couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He rubbed his phallus against her convulsing core, releasing himself onto her belly just above her dark curls. It wasn’t exactly as he wanted it but it was for the best; he couldn’t enter her. Wouldn’t enter her. And he certainly wouldn’t plant his seed in her and ruin her. But perhaps everything between them was already ruined, destroyed by his lack of restraint.
Destroyed by an attraction to her that he could not control.
Breathing heavily, and feeling Liselotte panting beneath him, he lifted his head to say something to her. She was lying on her back, eyes closed, and Daniel simply couldn’t think of anything to say. Carefully, he lifted himself up and kissed her, gently, watching her eyes as they opened and focused on him. He smiled weakly.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “I do not know what came over me. I should not have forced myself upon you like this and I can only pray you will forgive me. Leese… you are coming to mean something to me and I suppose this was my way of demonstrating that. I find that I cannot control myself around you. But I should have. I should have….”
He trailed off, shaking his head and averting his gaze. Liselotte stared at him, trying to digest everything that had happened and everything he was trying to tell her. It all happened so fast, and so very easily. The truth was that she wasn’t distressed by it, not one bit. Daniel’s touch had been like magic, making her body feel things she had no idea it was capable of feeling. She hadn’t been afraid of his touch to intimate places. In fact, it was as if her body had a mind of its own, welcoming what he was doing to her.
She thought back to what he’d done, the fire he’d created in her loins, and she wasn’t sorry she had let him. But she was coming to wonder if he was.
“I have no regrets,” she said softly. “It seemed the most natural of things.”
He nodded, rather ironically. “I would agree with that completely.”
“As if we are meant to be with one another.”
His head came up, looking at her. It seemed that he wanted to agree but something was holding him back. Confusion, perhaps. Or even regret.
“It was very natural,” he concurred quietly.
Liselotte studied his handsome face, seemingly lined with worry now. “And you regret this natural action?”
He shook his head before the words were even out of her mouth. “I do not,” he said. “But what we did… ladies of breeding, fine ladies such as yourself, should not let a man do such things to you. You should have slapped me when I started.”
“Would you have stopped?”
“Immediately.”
“Then I am glad I did not slap you.”
He started to chastise her for not being the stronger of the two of them but he ended up breaking down into soft laughter. He was trying to apologize and she wouldn’t let him. Pushing himself off of her, he looked around for something to wipe his seed from her belly and spied a linen cloth near a basin of water against the wall. He collected the cloth and wiped the remnants of his bad behavior off of her flesh. Then, he carefully pulled her skirts down and reached out a hand to her. When she took it, he pulled her up into a sitting position and helped her pull her bodice back up over her breasts.
In silence, he helped her, finally tightening up the stays on her back when the dress was properly settled. But before she could rise from the bed, he sat down beside her and put his big hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eye.
“I do not regret touching you,” he said, softly but firmly. “But you must understand that this is more than physical attraction. Something draws me to you, Leese. I told you that last ni
ght. Today, the feeling is stronger. I am not exactly sure what I feel but know that it is not fleeting. It is not trite or foolish. When I am ready to speak of it, I will. Remember that.”
Liselotte gazed back at the man. She felt so much for him, such overwhelming things, that she was certain she was in love with him. She’d never been in love before but she could not imagine such strong feelings to be anything else. Still, she would not speak of her feelings, not until he did. She would not make a fool of herself again as she did last night. Until Daniel was ready to speak of what was in his heart, she would keep hers to herself.
She hoped it didn’t kill her to do so.
“I have no expectations,” she said, hoping it would ease whatever turmoil he was feeling. “Even if you walk from my life tomorrow, I still consider it extremely fortunate to have met you.”
He smiled and planted a warm kiss on her mouth. “I will not walk from your life tomorrow.”
She returned his smile, timidly. “I hope not.”
He shook his head and gently pinched her nose, an affectionate gesture. Then, he stood up and held up a hand to help her to her feet.
“Nay, lady, you will not be rid of me so easily,” he said. “But I would like for you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“Consider remaining here until this situation with Bramley is settled.”
The warmth in her expression faced. “So we are back to that subject, are we?” she asked. Then, she shook her head. “I explained myself well enough, Daniel. I will return home today. Although I am deeply grateful for the offer to remain at Netherghyll, I hope you understand why I cannot.”
Daniel shrugged. “I do,” he said. “But I had to ask one more time.”
“And so you did.”
He lifted his eyebrows, accepting defeat, as he headed to the chamber door and lifted the bolt. “Then pack your things,” he said. “I would like to return to Siglesdene to collect what we purchased yesterday before heading back to Shadowmoor. Be swift about it, if you will. I wish to start our travel as soon as possible.”
Liselotte nodded. “It will take me only a few minutes,” she said. “Shall I meet you out in the bailey?”
He shook his head. “I will make sure the horses are saddled and then I will return to escort you,” he said. “We must say farewell to our gracious hosts before we go and to Lady Glennie, although I will admit that I will not miss her blatant attempts at flirtation. The woman makes me want to run and hide.”
Liselotte laughed softly. “Be brave, Sir Daniel. I am sure she is not the most fearsome beast you have ever crossed.”
He guffawed, loudly. “Not fearsome, but persistent,” he clarified. “But I cannot blame her. I suppose I am too difficult to resist.”
Liselotte rolled her eyes at his arrogance as he snorted, thinking himself rather funny. She made a sweeping motion with her hand, as if shooing him away. “Go along your way,” she said. “I will be ready in a few minutes.”
Daniel pulled the door open, taking one last glance back at her. “Don’t you find me irresistible?”
“Be gone.”
“Now I am insulted.”
“I am sure it will not be the last time.”
She could hear him laughing all the way down the corridor.
CHAPTER NINE
Brynner wasn’t sure how he was going to explain the horse he returned to Shadowmoor on but, in truth, it really didn’t matter what others thought. He didn’t have to answer any questions and he wouldn’t. Bramley had given him the brown steed, a bit old but still strong, to travel home on. It was far better than walking.
Usually a man who cared for nothing other than himself, and that included animals, Brynner put the horse in the stables personally and made sure it was bedded down properly. Back in the days when he had been an honorable knight, he’d had a magnificent beast that he’d eventually traded for liquor when his life went wrong. He often thought about that horse and wondered how it had fared in life, but thoughts of the horse made him think of Maud, so he tried not to think of the horse at all. It was a downward spiral if he did.
It was nearing noon on the day following his encounter with Bramley as he made his way from the stables towards Shadowmoor’s keep. He’d spent the night at Bramley Castle and had probably downed a half-barrel of wine in the process, drinking most of the night and then sleeping for just a few hours before rising and departing.
Bramley had greeted him when he had awoken with more wine to take with him, making sure that Brynner knew what was expected of him from this point on. Brynner knew, very well, and departed Bramley Castle with a sense of relief for the future – relief that he would soon be swimming in drink at his own French winery – and perhaps even some remorse at what he had agreed to do in order to get it.
But not too much remorse. He was getting the better end of the bargain as far as he was concerned. Fifty men and fifty gold coins would be waiting for him at the Cock and Comb Tavern in Ilkley. He had promised Bramley he would go to the tavern after speaking with Etzel, and Brynner was rather eager to get on with what needed to be done. The sooner he convinced his father to turn over Shadowmoor, and Liselotte, the sooner he would have his wine.
If his father didn’t agree, then Brynner knew what he had to do. He had tried not to think on that part of the bargain too much because he wasn’t particularly eager to murder his own father but, then again, Etzel had never done much for him so in that regard, he wasn’t all that sorry. At least, the part of him that needed wine badly, on a daily basis, told him he wasn’t all that sorry. But the honorable son of Etzel, long buried under an avalanche of sorrow, might have shown a twinge of regret if he’d let him.
So Brynner headed to the keep, trudging through the mud of the bailey. There were people around, people who scraped by their existence at Shadowmoor and whose families had lived at Shadowmoor for generations, but they didn’t acknowledge him and he didn’t acknowledge them. That was usual. Brynner existed in a world of his own. No one else lived there or visited, so the people of Shadowmoor might as well have been phantoms for all he cared. At the moment, however, he was focused on finding his father and since he didn’t pay attention to the man’s habits, he thought to start to look for him in the keep. Just as he approached the entry, a servant dressed in little more than rags appeared. Brynner grabbed the skinny old woman by the arm.
“My father?” he demanded.
The old woman, fearful at the sight of Brynner, the drunkard and volatile son, pointed to the hall in a panic. Attention diverted, Brynner let the woman go and she scurried away as he turned for the hall. Nearly slipping in the mud as he neared the entry, he tried to scrape the mud from the soles of his worn boots as he entered the darkened hall.
There was a fire in the pit in the center of the room, but a weak one. It gave off a little heat and warmth but what it mostly gave off was the smell of urine because most everyone had used it as a urinal in the morning to relieve themselves when they had awoken. That was usual in Shadowmoor because there were no garderobes, only fire pits and holes behind the stables where a man could piss in peace. Therefore, the hall always smelled of urine to Brynner. His senses may have been dulled by the liquor but his sense of smell was quite sharp. It was a sickening smell.
He immediately spied Etzel sitting at the feasting table, carefully sharpening his two precious daggers on a very worn piece of pumice stone. Brynner kept his gaze on his father and saw when Etzel happened to glance up in the dim light, but he gave no reaction to his son’s appearance and continued sharpening his dagger. Once, long ago, there had been warmth in a father’s greeting but no longer. His eldest son usually ignored him so Etzel made no move to initiate conversation with the man. It was, therefore, somewhat surprising when Brynner actually spoke to him.
“Father,” he greeted without emotion. “I have a need to speak with you.”
Wary, Etzel stopped his sharpening. “I have no money for you if that is what you will ask,�
� he said. “I am sorry, but I have nothing you can use for coinage, to sell or otherwise.”
Brynner sat down across the table from him. The beastly old table was well-scrubbed but very worn, with one broken leg that was propped up with stones. “I have not come to ask for money,” he said. “But I have a need to speak with you. It is important.”
Etzel kept sharpening. “Speak, then.”
Brynner noticed his father wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t even seem happy to see him, but that was of no great concern. In fact, it made what Brynner had to do easier.
“You have no great love for me nor do I have any great love for you,” he said. “If I had even a small amount of money, I would leave this place and never think of it again. But I do not have any money. The fact remains that you leave me a bereft legacy that is of no worth to me whatsoever.”
Etzel glanced up from his pumice stone. “Are you just realizing this?”
Brynner’s jaw ticked at his father’s lack of concern or sympathy. “Nay,” he said, his tone turning unfriendly. “I have known it for years and because I have known it for years, it now comes to this – I have seen Lord Bramley. Before you fall to the floor in a panic, know this; he wants Shadowmoor and is willing to pay for it. I will not lose this opportunity because you are foolishly hanging on to a heritage that was gone two hundred years ago. The moment our ancestors brokered a deal with the Normans that allowed our kind to keep Shadowmoor was the moment we became Normans ourselves. We have been puppets of the Norman kings ever since. I care not for this land or the legacy, and Bramley is willing to pay for it.”
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 177
