by Alexa Aston
*
He knew everything.
That was Alys’ first thought as she rose to her feet. She glanced over and saw that her mother had observed Kit’s departure.
“Go to him,” she mouthed, an encouraging smile on her lips.
Alys hurried from the great hall and paused in the entryway to the keep, wondering where he could have gone. Then she spied the door leading outside stood ajar. Glancing around, Kit was nowhere in sight. She believed he had gone outside, so she followed. As she flew down the stone steps, she saw a solitary figure pacing in the bailey. Though only a few torches were lit, she knew from the size and profile that the man had to be Kit.
She went and stood in the path that he marched. He was so deep in thought, he bumped into her and grabbed her elbows to keep her from falling. The look of anguish on his face caused tears to spring to her eyes.
“I sought you out,” he said, his voice low. “Though years had passed, I remembered you from court. My mother needed a healer. I could think of no one else I could trust.”
Her breath caught in her throat. So he had been on his way to Kinwick—to see her—when accosted on the road.
“But you knew me,” he accused, anger sparking in his eyes. “You already knew me. And you said nothing.” His fingers tightened, digging painfully into her flesh. “I came to you with a purpose. My beloved mother, the strongest person I know, was ill. She is all I have, Alys. The only one who cares for me.”
Kit released her, shoving her away from him. She’d heard the quiet desperation in his voice and longed to comfort him. But the waves of rage coming from him had her keep her distance.
“You could never understand, surrounded by so many family members who love and support you. You live in a happy place and lead a charmed life. Mine has been far from that. Mother is all I have. My father spends most of his time away at court and when he was at Brentwood? He despised me because I was reckless and impulsive, nothing like him. Mother took time to teach me. She was always a calming influence on me. Under her tutelage, I learned and matured.”
Kit raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “You delayed me, Alys. You withheld my identity from me. That may have slowed the memories from returning more rapidly to me.” His eyes darkened in fury. “Worst of all, Mother has had no relief. She has lain at Brentwood all this time, waiting for me to return. With you. The healer I promised would solve what ailed her. Her illness might have worsened—and she’s had no word from me.” He swallowed. “She might think I am dead.”
Kit had sworn she lived a charmed life but Alys only knew her heart was now torn asunder by the mistakes she had made.
“I have no way to make it up to you,” she said quietly. “No apology will suffice.”
He stood glaring at her. Alys gathered her courage and pushed ahead.
“Truly, I did not know you at first,” she said quietly. “Your face was so swollen and bloodied from the beating you had taken. As you began to heal, I sensed something familiar about you. But six years had passed, Kit, and I had only seen you once. You’d grown from a boy into manhood. I wasn’t sure it was you. Doubt plagued me. I didn’t want to share with you who I thought you might be and give you false hope.”
Even in the dim light, she saw the flush of anger that filled his cheeks. “The truth, Alys. I’ll have it. When did you realize it was me? Because I can tell you knew before Michael Devereux called me by name today.”
“When I was in your arms,” she confessed, her gaze steady. “It was when I became absolutely certain.” Her words came out in a whisper. His fingers relaxed. Then his hands fell to his side.
“You had held me before, Kit. We only met once in our past. I was fostering in the queen’s household. You had just arrived at Windsor Castle. You . . . came to retrieve me. The king had need of me.”
He stared off in the distance and nodded. “His head ached. He demanded that you be brought to him. Said no one could soothe his hurt as Lady Alys could.” Kit looked back down at her.
“Aye. You came to the queen’s rooms and escorted me to the king. He was feeling better by the time we returned. But Queen Philippa had asked me to summon her husband to her bedside.”
Alys bit her bottom lip to still the trembling. “She died soon after we returned to her rooms. I was so upset.” She wrapped her arms about her, the cold evening seeping into her, the black night enveloping her. “You were . . . kind to me. Comforted me. You held me close.” She raised her eyes to meet his. “I felt safe in your arms.”
She looked at him, hoping his anger was softening. “And that was how I felt when you embraced me again.” She gathered her courage and admitted, “I have longed for your kiss all these years, Kit. That day, we shared something special between us. I never forgot it. No man has ever interested me. Not before and not since that day.”
Alys placed a hand upon his arm. “I was about to tell you who you were earlier today. In the forest. But Nan interrupted us.” Hot tears now cascaded down her cheeks. “I have wanted you for so long, and then I had you for a short while. I planned to tell you today who I suspected you were when we spoke after the feast. I realized I’d been selfish. I couldn’t keep you here at Kinwick any longer.”
She dropped her hand and took a step away from him. “You have a wife, Kit. I knew her briefly at court. She told me that the two of you were betrothed.” Alys brushed her tears away in frustration. “And I have kept you from Richessa. Knowingly. I am . . . so sorry. I have no way to make it up to you.” She dropped her head in shame.
Silence filled the night. Then Alys felt warm fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up.
“Richessa is dead.” Kit held her chin firmly when she tried to look away. “We did marry, but no children came from our union. In fact, she could not have any more babes after she lost the last one.”
Alys’ hand latched on to his wrist.
“When I returned from France, I went to London to see my father and then left straightaway to Brentwood. Richessa had died two days earlier from Saint Anthony’s Fire.” A sad look crossed his face. “I confess the news brought me relief. She had been a spoiled, immature woman and never changed as time passed. Mother disliked Richessa intensely, and she thinks of nothing but the good in everyone she meets.”
Hope sprouted within her. Her fingers tightened around his wrist. His anger had now subsided.
“So I know who I am, Alys. And that I am free. I have neither wife nor betrothed awaiting me at Brentwood.” His large hands cupped her face. “But I must return at once. Mother will be sick with worry.”
“You said you sought me out because she was indisposed. What signs of illness did she display?”
“Mother is never unwell, but she seemed listless and was feverish. It concerned me enough to seek a remedy for whatever ailed her. She is the reason why I traveled to Kinwick. I remembered how skilled you were at healing those at court. My mother means the world to me, so I wished to find you and bring you back with me to Brentwood.”
“Then we must leave in the morning,” Alys said, her heart beating rapidly as his thumbs caressed her cheeks.
“We will, my love,” he said, his voice low and tender.
Kit bent and touched his mouth to hers. Her hands wound round his neck and pulled him closer. He teased her lips apart with his tongue, sending sparks shooting inside her. Her tongue mated with his. Heat began to rise within her. His hands captured her waist, easily spanning it, as he brought her to him.
He kissed her until she trembled from head to toe. Alys clung to him, wanting to burrow as close as possible. His mouth left hers, trailing hot kisses along her jaw, down her neck. His tongue flicked across the top curve of her breasts. She shivered in delight. His lips came back and found hers again, kissing her until she lost all track of time. All that counted was now. This moment. This man.
This love.
For Alys knew, as others in her family had discovered, when you kissed the one you were meant to be with for eternity, you would
know.
Kit Emory was The One.
Chapter 13
Without warning, Kit swept Alys off her feet. He strode across the bailey in the faint moonlight, his strong arms carrying her as if she weighed nothing.
“Where are we going?” she asked breathlessly, tightening her arms about his neck.
“You’ll see.” His voice, husky and mysterious, caused her to shiver in anticipation.
They passed no one along the way as flickering torches lit the path he took to the stables. He paused at the entrance where a lantern hung and lifted it from its perch.
“We are going riding? At night?” She thought it most peculiar to want to ride a horse in the dark after they had shared such passionate kisses.
Kit laughed, a rich sound that came deep from within his belly. He continued into the stables with her in his arms, marching down a long row of stalls. A few horses nickered at them as they passed by. Then they stopped in front of an empty stall.
He gave her a long look, desire burning brightly in his eyes. “I don’t plan to mount a horse this night, sweetest Alys. I plan to mount you and ride you to the stars and back.”
His words shocked—and thrilled—her.
Kit eased her to her feet and opened the door. He hung the lantern inside the stall and looked around. Bending, he lifted some of the hay, resting it to create a small pile. He repeated the process several times until a bed of hay awaited them. The sweet smell of it surrounded her.
Alys locked her knees, fearful she would collapse. Kit returned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. Slowly, he slid them down her arms till their hands met and their fingers entwined.
“I want you, Alys de Montfort. More than I have ever wanted a woman. I want to bury myself within you. Spill my seed into your womb. I want you now. And always. I will brand you as mine tonight, but know that I plan to take you to wife.”
His voice, raw with emotion, turned tender. “I know who I am. That I am free to love you and plan a future with you. I want to bed you each and every night. My only wish is to wake up with you by my side every morning.” He paused. “And never, ever let you go.”
“I will always want you, Kit Emory,” she boldly proclaimed. “Whether in dreams or awake, you are my one desire.”
Alys squeezed his hands with affection. “When I decided to tell you your name, I made another important decision.” She lowered her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “I told myself that I wanted a part of you to stay with me always. So I had planned to seduce you tonight. Either the experience would be burned into my soul and allow me to keep hold of a part of you forevermore, or I would find myself with your child growing inside me and always have something of you.”
Warm lips pressed against her temple. “You would have seduced me, my lady?”
Alys bit back a smile. “I would have tried, my lord. And I usually am successful in my endeavors.” She lifted her eyes to meet his and saw them gleam with passion.
“Then I will allow you to take the lead in this venture.”
She hesitated. “I really don’t know—”
“You do, my love. Simply follow your heart.”
Alys saw that he yielded control to her. It intrigued her. It emboldened her.
He empowered her.
She released his hands and brought her own to his chest, flattening her palms against it. She felt the hard muscle beneath her fingertips and danced her fingers up slowly, savoring his clean, masculine scent. Her fingers lightly stroked his neck, and she watched his eyes darken. She pushed them into his thick, dark hair. Massaged his head sensually. Toyed with his earlobes. Listened to his breathing grow shallow then more rapid.
“You are too tall by far,” she told him. “Come to your knees.”
He knelt in front of her. Alys cupped his face, tilting it toward her. Then she brought her mouth to his and pressed it gently in a soft, sweet kiss. Slowly, she ran her tongue along his lips, tracing their outline over and over. A low groan from him made her smile. She flicked her tongue along the seam of his lips, urging them to open. When they did, she plunged her tongue inside his mouth, finding his so they could do battle together.
Alys had no idea how long they kissed, but she could have continued to do so all night. They warred for control, each one taking advantage and turning kiss after heated kiss into something much more. Each kiss broke new ground between them. Fanned the flames of desire within them. Spoke of promises that would join them as one for all time.
She reveled in the scrape of his stubble against her skin, but she wanted much more. Her fingers kneaded his shoulders, slowly dropping to his back. She gathered the material of his cotehardie and bunched it in her hands, pulling it up and over his head. His gypon came along with it. She stepped back a moment to admire what was revealed. Sleek muscles covered in shadows of the last fading bruises greeted her. A fine matting of dark hair, smooth to her touch, covered his chest, fading into a line that disappeared within his pants. Alys stroked him over and over, the muscles twitching at her touch.
Kit took hold of her waist and yanked her close. His head was level with her breasts, which seemed to have swelled as something pounded with need within her. His tongue returned to the top of her breast, then his teeth nibbled through her clothing. Bolts of lightning zipped inside her. Alys knew she must discard her clothes. Now.
“I need your skin to touch mine,” she told him, her voice raw with need.
He rose and removed her sideless surcoat. Lifted her kirtle over her head. Pushed her smock down to her waist, baring her upper body to him. Alys took his head within her hands and guided him to her breast. His beard scratched the delicate skin as he began to kiss the globe. Lick the nipple. Tease it with his teeth.
“Oh!” she gasped, a great pull inside her beginning to drum as loud as any drummer she had heard.
He lavished attention first on one breast, then the other, giving each equal time, caressing them until they seemed sore and heavy.
“More,” she commanded, still sounding in charge, but barely, for what he did was slowly undoing her.
Kit lowered her smock over her hips and brought it to the ground. She stepped out of it, and he tossed it aside. Only her shoes and stockings remained. But he didn’t remove them.
Instead, his hands latched on to her hips. His mouth came to rest next to her belly and kissed it thoroughly before dropping lower. Alys knew what he would do next. Her mother’s conversations about what pleased a man and a woman echoed in her mind. But what Merryn had spoken of and what happened now seemed like two very different things.
As he began kissing her, her legs started trembling, then violently quaking.
“I fear I must sit,” she cried out.
Kit’s eyes gleamed up at her. He stood and led her to the pile of hay that he’d gathered. She sat on top it, but he pushed her prone. Slowly, he removed her shoe and rolled the stocking down, his lips burning a path from her knees to her ankles. After both legs and feet were bare, he placed his hands around her calves and brought them up in the air, placing her legs on top of his shoulders.
“Keep them there,” he ordered, bending close and grasping her hips firmly in his hands.
Then those intimate kisses began again, hot and wet. Alys felt the great heat of his mouth as the drumming inside her grew in intensity and volume. One hand left her hip and as he moved to kiss her belly, she felt his fingers touching her. Parting her. Entering her. One finger eased in, stroking her in a delicious fashion. Another one joined it, and the two began moving in and out in a rhythm that began to match the drumming within her.
He pulled them from her, and Alys saw they were wet. Kit licked them slowly, sensuously.
“Your juices run sweet for me,” he said.
Breathless, she could not respond. She watched him return to her curls and realized when a jolt hit her that his tongue was now where his fingers had played. It stroked her with a fire and intensity that brought a growing warmth. She began panting.
Writhing. Whimpering. Calling out his name. Her fingers dug into the hay at her side. The pressure grew, both from his mouth and something building within her.
Then it burst wide open, flaring like a thousand suns dancing across the sky, a warmth glowing brighter than anything she had ever known. Alys screamed at the intense pleasure, but suddenly Kit’s mouth was on hers, absorbing the sound. His fingers entered her again, gliding inside her, and once more the burst of heat encompassed her. She rode a wave that never seemed to end.
Slowly, she came back to reality. She watched Kit stand and tear off his pants. Her eyes widened at the size of his member standing at full attention, and she wondered how he ever thought something so large would fit inside her.
He lowered himself until he hovered over her. “You are as ready as you will ever be. ’Twill be painful, love, then it never hurts again. I promise.”
With those words, he plunged inside her as his mouth devoured hers.
Alys fought to rise, bucking against him, the pain excruciating. Kit did not move. Gradually, she became used to how he filled her. The pain faded. He seemed to understand that and slowly rocked against her. She clung to him as he began to move in and out of her. Then some primal instinct took control of her, and she started to move with and against him. The rocking motion became a dance, just as their tongues had danced with one another. The dance became faster and faster until she thought they would spin out of control.
Then the heat and warmth returned, more vivid than before. Desire for him mounted within her. Alys held on for dear life as they moved, going higher. Faster. Further. And then sweet release came again, for them both this time. They each made a triumphant sound. Then their mouths met, feasting upon one another as if they had come out of a famine and could not get enough of one another.
A heaviness suddenly invaded her limbs. Her hands dropped from him. Kit collapsed atop her, his weight welcomed. Alys brought her arms around his torso, slick with sweat as he buried his face in her neck. She held on to him tightly, her rapid breath beginning to slow. Then he rolled to his side and took her with him. She nestled in the protection of his arms, their hearts against one another, beating in time.
