by Alexa Aston
As she hoped, Lord Gregory and Sir Rodric stood near where they’d spoken, as if they’d waited for her to reappear. She approached them, steeling herself.
“I am sorry I fled, my lord,” she said to her birth father. “What you revealed took me by surprise.”
He gave her a grateful smile. “I knew it would be difficult for you to hear, Jess.”
“Jessimond. My name is Jessimond.”
“’Tis a lovely name.”
“What was my name? Before?” she asked.
“Lady Celia hadn’t chosen one yet,” Sir Rodric said. “She was waiting to find the exact name that would fit you.”
“My sister named me,” Jessimond revealed. “Nan was walking with my father when they stumbled across me.” She smiled. “She’s still very proud of discovering and naming me.”
“You’ve . . . you’ve had a good life?” Lord Gregory asked hesitantly.
“Aye. A wonderful life with parents and siblings who showered me with love. I have three brothers and two sisters. They’ve all wed now. I am the youngest.”
Still, Jessimond held back. She wasn’t ready to tell these men that she was a de Montfort.
“I plan on returning to Kinwick once the mummers conclude their tour,” she continued.
“Would you ever consider visiting Netherfield, Jessimond?” the baron asked. “Byrom, Lina, and Lora would be delighted to make your acquaintance.”
Her siblings . . .
“Lora is the eldest at eight and ten. Byrom is six and ten. Lina is the youngest at two and ten. My wife, Egelina, died giving birth to Lina.”
She wanted to remain loyal to her de Montfort kin, but Jessimond yearned to meet these three.
“I won’t make any promises to you, my lord, but I will think on it.”
“Would you like me to write to Lord Geoffrey?” he asked. “I know you would need his permission to leave.”
“Nay. If the time comes and I am comfortable coming to Netherfield, I will speak to the earl myself.”
Jessimond saw so many things in the nobleman’s eyes. Hope. Regret. Even love. He had never seen her until today yet she understood that he loved her—because he had loved her mother.
“Celia would be so proud of you, Jessimond,” he said. “You favor her so much but you are much more confident. She was shy and always wanted to please others.”
Jessimond thought she had more in common with her mother than looks. Before embarking on the tour with the mummers, she had been much quieter, a nurturer who looked to help others before herself.
“Thank you for considering a visit one day,” Lord Gregory continued. “I won’t bother you anymore. Sir Rodric and I will return to Netherfield. It lies just south of Denwell, not half an hour’s ride. I want you to enjoy your time singing and not worry if we are in the crowd.”
A deep longing overwhelmed her. Jessimond impulsively embraced him. His arms went about her and held her a long moment before releasing her.
“Thank you for telling me the truth about my origins,” she said. “Mayhap we’ll meet again one day.”
“It will remain my fondest wish,” he said.
Turning to Sir Rodric, the baron nodded. Both men walked away. Neither glanced back at her. Jessimond’s throat swelled, thick with emotion.
When she’d first had the idea, she hadn’t known what touring with the mummers might bring. Now, she’d learned of her birth parents and also fallen in love. She would return to Kinwick a much different person.
Slowly, Jessimond walked back to camp.
Chapter 17
Marcus eagerly unloaded the mummers’ wagons and set up the tents in a circle for the last time. They had arrived at Glenmore, the final stop on their tour, at noon today. Lord Simeon de Grey’s estate lay adjacent to Hartefield, though the keeps of the two great estates were well over three hours apart. In fact, de Grey had instructed the Vawdrys to use a field far from the castle grounds. Just the other side of the brook that ran nearby the tents was Hartefield lands and at the edge of Hartefield stood his family’s hunting lodge. He planned to take Jess there so they could speak privately.
She had prepared their evening meal early since every belly grumbled loudly after the hard labor of this afternoon. Before they ate, Marcus pulled Rand aside.
“I want you to ride to Harte Castle after eating,” he told his friend. “Avoid my father if you can. Find out what has gone on since we left in the spring.”
“And if I do run into Lord Charles?” Rand asked.
“Tell him you and I will return at the end of the week.”
Rand nodded and they joined the end of the line that had formed. Jess dished up their food and they moved on to where Agatha gave them thick slices from a round of cheese.
Marcus watched Jess and wondered what had changed in her. Ever since they’d been at Denwell, she seemed more reserved. He regretted that they no longer washed the dishes together after the evening meal. When he’d been injured, that task had been assumed by Peter and Agatha. Once Marcus returned to the troupe, the pair continued to handle it. He realized the couple enjoyed their time away from others.
Just as he had. With Jess.
He’d deliberately withdrawn from her since his accident. That was something he would address with her. He scooped the last of the food into his mouth and swallowed whole, ready to set things right with the woman he loved.
Marcus could only admit that to himself. The hurt he’d watched his mother endure and her constant warnings to her son to guard his heart from love rang in his mind. He refused to tell Jess that he’d fallen in love with her. He would convince her to wed him with his actions alone.
Rising, he placed his bowl into a basket at the same time she did.
“Can we go for a walk?” he asked her.
Her brows rose and she pursed her lips. He was afraid she might turn him down.
“There are things I would like to say to you,” Marcus said softly.
A look of resignation crossed her face. “If you must.”
Marcus indicated the way for them to walk. He was afraid to take her elbow since she seemed jittery.
“Why don’t we walk toward the meadow?” she questioned, as he entered the woods.
“I have some place in mind,” he replied.
Following him, she said, “You seem to know where you are going.”
Marcus halted. “I do.”
He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. Warmth flooded him. It had been weeks since he’d dared to touch her. When she threatened to pull away, his fingers tightened around hers.
“Come along. It’s not far.”
He led them to a narrow place that would allow them to cross the brook, though they’d need a running start. Marcus broke out in a run, pulling Jess along, leaping at the last minute when they reached the water. They both sailed across easily and he tugged her up the bank. Within a few minutes, they reached the de Harte hunting lodge.
The structure stood at the far end of Hartefield and hadn’t been used much as he grew up. Though the handle turned easily, the door stuck. He threw his shoulder into it, forcing it open, and stepped inside. Marcus allowed Jess to enter and then shut the door behind them.
“Where are we?”
He led her to the stairs and sat on a step, pulling her down beside him.
“We are on my family’s lands.”
He watched Jess think about that and saw understanding dawn in her face.
Continuing, he said, “We are at Hartefield, home of the Baron of Harteley. De Hartes have lived at Harte Castle for many years.”
“And you are a de Harte. The son of the baron.”
“Aye, Jess. I am.” He brought their joined hands up and pressed a fervent kiss to her knuckles.
She frowned and pulled her hand from his grasp. “I don’t understand, Marcus. You have ignored me ever since you were injured. Weeks have gone by and you’ve barely said two words to me—much less touched me. Now, you bring me here and tell me you are the
son of a baron. What do you want from me?”
He cupped her cheeks in his hands. “I want you, Jess. All of you. I haven’t spoken to you or kissed you because of how much I desire you. Every time I touched you, I tumbled deeper into the abyss. You and I played with fire, sweetheart, and I did not want either of us to be burned.
“We’re at my home now. Where I’ve longed to bring you ever since we met. I want to marry you, Jess. Bury my seed deep within you. I long for you to have my babes—a dozen of them. I need you by my side. In my bed. I want to laugh with you. Share my day with you.” He paused. “Even sing with you, if you wish. All I know is that I cannot live unless you are in my life every day. When the mummers disband, I want you to come to Harte Castle so we can wed.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought you no longer cared for me,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You ignored me. I believed you pushed me away because you’d tired of me. Or didn’t want to commit to me.”
Marcus laughed and kissed her swiftly. “Nay. The opposite, my love. Being near you drove me mad with desire. I couldn’t speak to you without wanting to kiss you senseless. I feared if I touched you again, I would tear your clothes from you and take you, wherever we were.” His thumbs stroked her cheeks. “I think of you with each breath I take. Every step I make. You are the only woman I want, Jess. No other.”
He kissed her deeply, tasting her again after so long a time. As he did, he knew he could no longer wait. Breaking the kiss, he scooped Jess into his arms and ascended the staircase. Marcus brought her to a bedchamber and placed her on the bed.
Kneeling beside her, he said, “My desire for you is strong, love. I know we haven’t made our vows yet but more than anything, I long to make you mine.” He paused. “We can marry in a week but I need you now. Are you willing to commit your body to mine?”
Jessimond gazed at the face of the man she would always love. She had thought she would wed at Kinwick, her family smiling as she did so. Mayhap, that still might occur. For now, though, she needed Marcus inside her, branding her as his.
She took his face between her hands. “I love you,” she said. “Come to me. Make me yours.”
He stretched out alongside her. They turned to face one another. He kissed her brow. Her eyelids. Her nose and cheeks. Her lips. His hands roamed from her face, down her neck, and slipped inside her clothing. Her breasts had ached for his touch and now they were rewarded with it, the nipples springing to life as he teased them.
“Enough of this,” he proclaimed.
Marcus sat up and pulled them from the bed. Before she could ask why, his fingers found the edge of her tunics and pulled them up, over her head. He tossed them aside and stared at her in wonder.
“You are perfect.”
He removed her boots and quickly doffed his own clothing. Standing before her, he looked hewn from rock. Jessimond found she held her breath as she gazed upon him. Then he nudged her back until her legs touched the bed. They fell upon it and Marcus feasted upon her. She felt treasured with each stroke of his hand and tongue. He lovingly tasted every bit of her until she cried out for more.
“Do you want this?” he asked, his smile wicked as he parted her folds and a finger glided inside her.
“Aye,” she said breathlessly.
“And this?”
His tongue replaced his finger, darting in and out of her. Jessimond whimpered as his hands clutched her buttocks and his mouth devoured her. The familiar pressure built into a crescendo which erupted with such force that she screamed his name. Her hips bucked as her head whipped from side to side, waves of hot pleasure consuming her until she stilled, limp and unmoving.
Then Marcus hovered over her. He slipped his member inside her, stretching her until she started to protest.
“Nay, you are too large, Marcus,” she said, panicking. “I cannot take all of you.”
He kissed her. “You are tight because you are a virgin, sweetheart, but your juices flow for me. Your body wants mine. It needs for us to join together. Trust me.”
She gazed into the face she loved. “I do. Always.”
With that, he thrust once, covering her mouth with his.
Blinding pain struck. She tried to push him off but his hands captured her wrists and raised them above her head. He remained still, only his lips caressing her throat. Gradually, she became used to how he filled her. The pain had receded. Something built within her again. Without thought, Jessimond’s hips pushed upward.
Marcus took that as a sign and left her, only to return again. She sucked in a quick breath but found no pain accompanied his movement this time. As he continued to move within her, she tried to bring her hands down to stroke him but he still pinned her wrists above her. His mouth slipped to her breast, sucking, laving, teasing her while he continued to thrust slowly.
He pushed her wrists together and captured them with one large hand. The other trailed leisurely down her body. As his thrusts grew more rapid, his thumb found the nub that drove her wild. He circled it, pressing harder as his pace increased. Jessimond wriggled underneath him, her whimpers now becoming pants and then moans.
Suddenly, Marcus strained against her as a sea of stars exploded. She cried out and he did the same and they rode an undulating cloud of joy that went on and on. Finally, he collapsed upon her, spent.
“I cannot move,” he groaned. “I may never move.”
Jessimond pushed against him. “I cannot breathe,” she managed to get out.
Quickly, he rolled to his side and caught her against him. She rested her cheek against his chest. Her fingers lightly moved along the scar on his chest, now fading from the angry red it had been.
Marcus kissed the top of her head. “Do you see why I could not wait another moment?” His fingertip traced the outline of her lips.
“I hope I pleased you,” she said. “I know you have lain with many women.”
He caught her hand and pressed a hot kiss into the palm. “I have forgotten all of those women, Jess. That’s how much I care for you.”
She noticed he didn’t say he loved her. It disappointed her, but Jessimond believed he truly did love her. With every stroke, his body told her so, whether he knew it or not. Once they wed, mayhap he wouldn’t be so afraid to say the words she longed to hear.
His fingers entwined with hers and he brought their joined hands to rest between them. “I have never felt this way before,” he shared. “Love play has never been more satisfying than with you. I pledge I will never lie with another woman. Only you, sweetheart. Only you.”
For now, it would be enough.
“You know how to please me,” she began. “I hope you’ll show me how I can please you.”
Marcus smiled. “Oh, you already do.” Then he grinned. “But I can think of a few things to teach you in the years to come.”
“Why not start now?” she countered.
Laughing, he did just that.
Chapter 18
Marcus led Jess back to the mummers’ camp. Everything had gone exactly as he’d wished. He would complete his obligation to the Vawdrys and then return to Hartefield with his bride-to-be. He wondered in what condition he would find his father. It had surprised him how the baron had aged while Marcus had been off fighting in the wars with the king.
He’d actually liked his stepmother. He wondered how she’d felt, being meant for one man and then being coerced to marry another more than twice her age. He hoped Lady Ailith and Jess would get along well. He saw no reason why they wouldn’t even though Jess wasn’t of the nobility. She was beautiful and well-spoken and would make a good future baroness for Hartefield. Once she arrived, Marcus knew what Jess would be drawn to—the newest members of the de Harte family. Already, Marcus could see her with a babe in her arms. His babe.
They leaped over the narrow portion of the brook again. He decided this would be a place to bring his sons in the future. He could teach them to fish. Knowing Jess, she’d want their daughters brought along to lear
n, as well. He still was uncertain if she’d told him the entire truth about how she’d learned to swing a sword so well but it was definitely something he hoped she kept up. It would be interesting to teach their children to defend themselves with the weapon, especially if they did so side-by-side.
Whatever happened, Marcus knew he would lead a fascinating life with Jess by his side.
Seeing the tents, he steered them in that direction. As he did, Rand hurried toward them.
“Marcus, we must speak.” He glanced at Jess. “Alone.”
“It’s all right. Jess knows who I am. Speak freely.”
She squeezed his hand and released it. “Go ahead. I’ll give you some privacy.”
Marcus watched her move away, the gentle sway of her hips enticing him. He wondered if he could wait a week before engaging her in love play again.
When she was out of hearing distance, Rand said, “Your father is very ill.”
“Did you see him?”
“Nay. I spoke at length to Thomas, though. You know he’s not one to exaggerate.”
Sir Thomas had been the captain of Hartefield’s guard for over half a score and was a man Marcus trusted implicitly.
“When I told Thomas that you were nearby, he implored me to bring you home for good. In truth, Marcus, he made it sound as if Lord Charles is near death.”
“Then I’ll leave at once for Hartefield.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rand volunteered.
“Nay. You should be here for the sword exhibitions. Peter can step in for me as he did before.”
“Then I’ll tell the Vawdrys on your behalf.”
“I’ll go speak to Jess and let her know why I’m leaving.”
Rand placed a hand on Marcus’ shoulder. “Go with God.”
Marcus went to Jess’ tent. The flap was propped open so he poked his head inside and saw she sat on her pallet talking with Agatha.
“May I see you a moment?”
Jess excused herself and joined him. Marcus led them around to the back of the tents so they would be out of sight.
“I must go to Harte Castle now. My father is gravely ill. I need to see him a last time before he dies.”
