by Mary Wine
Taking the reins, she adjusted her skirts so that they were properly placed. There was only one set of eyes she was concerned with. She shifted her attention to Curan to find him watching her with that dark, keen gaze. He took a moment to survey the way she sat on the mare, judging her confidence. Approval sparkled in his eyes, and she discovered that she enjoyed knowing that he thought her capable in the saddle.
“I hope the mare pleases you.”
“Very much so.”
Formal and polished, their words might have been exchanged between strangers. Nevertheless she didn’t miss the fact that he had recalled that she did not care for being transported in a wagon. Some might suggest that she was clutching at anything to be satisfied, but she ignored those nagging thoughts. There would be plenty of days ahead to worry and battle suspicions.
For the moment she would cradle the idea that Curan had brought her a mare because he cared about her happiness. Something flickered in his eyes, and she smiled at him. His lips twitched, abandoning their firm line that she had become used to seeing on his face. A brief smile was the result, fading almost in the same moment that it had appeared.
Yet it was branded into her memory.
So what if the man had smiled at her? He possessed a disposition that was impossible to tolerate.
They reached Amber Hill before sunset. The ride had been quite enjoyable with spring in the air. The mare carried her smoothly, and she discovered a new respect being given to her by the men surrounding her. They inclined their heads when she looked at them now. Gone was the rather blatant desire to ignore her.
It really wasn’t fair that a woman’s virginity was so highly prized when you considered that most men were not virgins when they married. Still it pleased Bridget to know she had brought honor to Curan by being proved chaste.
All of her happiness ended abruptly when they entered the courtyard of Amber Hill. Curan tossed his reins to a young lad who hurried out to greet him. Before she had lifted her knee off the horn set into the side of the saddle to help keep her on the horse, Curan was reaching up to help lift her. His face was set in hard lines, firm resolve flickering in his eyes. He didn’t release her when her feet were firmly on the cobblestones. Instead, the man curled his hand around her wrist and turned with her in tow. He pulled her up the stairs that led to the first tower, ignoring the staff that lined the way. His manner irritated her because it reminded her of a child being taken inside for a whipping.
Her throat tightened. A man did have the right to beat his wife, and she had run from him. Everyone in the castle must know. The slight to his honor was unmistaken. Curan pulled her toward the stairs that led to the second floor, his longer legs making it necessary for her to scurry to keep up while he maintained his stony silence. Her skirts slapped against her ankles, threatening to trip her.
“Enough, my lord. You need not pull me along like an errant child.”
He turned to peg her with a sharp glare, but that was not enough to deter her. She yanked on her arm, her temper lending strength to her motion.
“Do you mean to say that you have not earned to be treated as such?”
“I do.”
He looked stunned. His lips opened slightly in shock.
“I have obeyed, obeyed, and obeyed until I am sick unto death of hearing what everyone else expects of me. It is far past time for the lot of you to come into agreement on just what is expected from me.”
Grabbing a fistful of her skirts, she yanked the fabric up past her ankles and took to the stairs. She didn’t know where his chambers were, but a scurry of footfalls on the third floor was telling enough. Gaining the third floor, she faced a set of double doors that were held open. The entire floor was the lord’s chamber. The doorway led to a candlelit entry chamber.
A wise choice considering their master stomped into his room behind her.
“Close the doors and be gone.”
He snarled his words at the remaining servants while yanking on one of his armor gauntlets. Bridget turned in a flurry of wool skirts and offered him no penance for her sharp words.
“You shall not temper my mood, madam. I marched an army across a border to retrieve you. Barras could have considered that an act of war.”
“And I have told you, my lord, that I am merely obeying my father. An action you told me you would not have me fail at, lest you discard me. I struggle to please both of you while suffering displeasure all about me.”
He threw the freed gauntlet onto the table and it made a loud metallic sound as it landed.
“Agreed. Your point is well founded, but you are my wife now, no longer just my bride. Obeying me takes precedence from hence forward.”
He stopped himself from throwing the second gauntlet. He dropped it while he struggled to regain his composure.
“Promise …” He shut his mouth and took a deep breath. “I understand that you were trying to respect your parents, but our union is celebrated now. Promise me, swear to me, Bridget, that you will stay by my side henceforth. Give me your agreement that this matter is settled.”
His eyes were bright, and a muscle along his jawline twitched. He flattened his hands on the tabletop. “I want your solemn pledge of honor, Bridget, nothing less.”
She was torn. Her anger dampened in the face of his willingness to accept her word. That was trust and not a thing that came easily for a man such as he.
“I do not know what to do anymore.”
His fingers curled on the tabletop. “Why not? You are my wife. Do I not deserve your loyalty?”
She wanted to give him what he sought, wanted to soothe his troubled expression. It was but a few simple words, but she knew they would be false.
“You know the ways of this world. There will be a cry from court if you keep me.”
“A matter you will trust me to shoulder, Bridget.” He straightened up, much of his anger clearing from his expression. “I ask you to settle into your place and allow me to shelter you as a husband should.”
She clasped her hands, trying to maintain her resolve. “And I ask you to recall that husband and wife should work together. That is the reason for marriage, the forming of a union.”
Triumph lit his eyes. “Exactly what I desire, a union between us. Give me your promise on the matter.”
“The chancellor could take everything you have earned from you.” She shook her head. “I will not be the cause of you losing all that you have battled to hold.”
Her voice trailed off, and her attention strayed to the bed. It was a huge one, with carved head-and footboards. Thick curtains hung from the canopy. Moving closer, she marveled at the fact that those curtains were made of velvet.
“Henry gave me that bed.”
She jumped because Curan was directly behind her. She had not heard even one step. His hands closed around her shoulders, gently keeping her in place while he leaned down to tease her ear with his lips.
“Henry Tudor.”
“The king?”
His hands gently rubbed her arms, sending little ripples of sensation down her body. Her skin became more sensitive, eagerly anticipating where his lips would touch next. Erotic anticipation began to burn along her neck at the sight of the bed.
“A gift given in honor of our wedding. Henry had it made by the very same family that made his own.” His lips closed around her earlobe, drawing a stiff breath from her.
“Look at it, Bridget. I have imagined you in it from the moment I laid eyes upon it. Swear that our marriage is true and binding in your thoughts, and we shall leave the past behind us.”
She suddenly understood how Eve must have felt. She was tempted, her resolve so weakened by his voice. It was rich with the promise of the lover she had known last night.
“Henry will not allow the chancellor to interfere in our union, Bridget, you must trust me on that.”
She pulled herself away from him, stumbling because of how fast she moved to avoid being held captive. Frustration showed in Curan’s ey
es, but it was edged with determination, and he was not alone in that desire.
“I will not be the cause of your downfall. We must think of any children we might have.”
His eyes darkened. “There will be children. Be very sure that I will not allow you to sleep anywhere except by my side.” His lips curved up. “And there will be no chemise worn in my bed, I promise you that, Bridget.”
She believed him. Her cheeks colored, heating with a blush that told him how much she liked his declaration. He reached out and laid the back of his hand along the side of her face. It was such a simple touch, but she shivered in response.
“Swear to me, Bridget. I have no liking for this fight between us.”
“If I give you that promise, I condemn you to whatever wrath the chancellor wishes to strike out with.”
His eyes narrowed, and his hand fell away from her face. He hooked his fingers through his wide sword belt, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“So be it.” His voice was gruff with distaste. “You shall remain in this chamber unless you have my permission to leave it.”
Bridget stiffened, but he was not finished.
“Without your dress.”
“What?”
He offered her no mercy, only a hard expression. “I doubt that you will find it simple to slip across the yard without a dress, so you will disrobe and hand me your clothing. It will be stored elsewhere until you swear to me or I get a letter from your father ending this debate.”
“That is barbaric.”
“I consider it kinder than chaining you to the wall. Yet I would far rather have your word. The road is full of danger, Bridget; I will not have you risking yourself in some attempt to shelter me.”
“Because I am a woman?”
“Because you are my wife.”
She walked away from the bed, unable to quell her own longing for it. The man was unable to see reason when it was spoken plainly to him. She felt his eyes on her and turned to stare straight back at him. She watched a flicker of approval light his eyes, but it did nothing to soften his expression.
“Disrobe, Bridget. Do not make me handle you unkindly.”
“I make you do nothing, my lord.”
But she also recalled her first lesson from Marie, and the man had ordered her to disrobe …
Chapter Twelve
Raising her chin, Bridget stared into Curan’s eyes.
“I suppose there is little point in testing my strength against yours.”
Surprise flickered across his eyes, but suspicion remained. Lifting one hand, Bridget reminded herself to move slowly. Her heart began beating faster, and her senses became keener. She heard a pop when she undid the hook that held her over-partlet closed. Thrusting a finger into the opening, she traced her own collarbone while drawing the wool garment aside to reveal her skin.
“Is this what you wanted, my lord?”
She drew the over-partlet off her shoulders completely and walked toward another table that was near the fireplace built into the wall near a huge set of windows.
“I would prefer your promise and the removal of your gown.”
She offered him a raised eyebrow.
“You sound greedy. If I gave you my word, I would expect to keep my dress.” She forced her words to pass her lips slowly. Curan seemed willing to wait for each one as well. His eyes followed her every motion, no matter how small. She gently unbuttoned one cuff and then separated the fabric before shifting her attention to the matching one.
“I believe you shall have to choose. My word …” She trailed her finger along the newly exposed skin of her wrist. “Or my dress …”
He swallowed roughly.
The little response made her confidence swell. Heat began licking along her skin as she moved her hands to the hooks that held her bodice closed. The first gave way with a pop, and the next one, too.
“It’s rather chilly …”
She turned her back but peeked over her shoulder at Curan. His lips were pressed into a hard line, but another little pop told him that a third hook had been released.
“The fire feels quite nice against my skin.”
“You are toying with me.”
Another pop, and the shoulders of her dress began to sag down her shoulders.
“Such a critical thing to say, especially considering my very perfect compliance with your demand, my lord.”
She rolled the title and turned to display her half-open dress. Her corset was in plain sight, and his attention settled on the top of it, where her exposed breasts swelled up. Her fingers released the last two hooks, and she turned back to face the fire before allowing the dress to begin falling down her body. The garment caught on her hips, and she smoothed her hands down the length of her stays until she reached it.
“That courtesan taught you her tricks.”
The dress slumped to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Turning back around, she toyed with the end of the lace that held her corset tightly closed.
“Is there something wrong with my actions? You did tell me to disrobe. Am I doing a poor job of it? Shall I try again?” She bent her knees and lowered her body so that she could grasp the pooled dress.
“Leave it.” He blew out a stiff breath in response.
She straightened and pulled on the tie holding her corset closed. The cord gave way, and the weight of her breasts tugged the lace through the eyelets.
“You need not become cross, my lord. I am simply attempting to make certain that I understand your will.”
“I find myself very pleased with your compliance, Bridget.”
His fingers tightened on his belt but only for a moment. He grasped the end of the belt and tugged it so that the metal tongue that secured it loosened. With a practiced hand, he caught the entire belt and sword, lifting it up to place it on the table that was near the door. He reached up and unbuttoned the first few buttons that held his simple doublet closed. The sight of his shirt drew a memory of the previous night vividly to her mind. She cast her attention down as it planted ideas in her mind of how much she might enjoy being stripped again while he was with her.
He uttered her name in a husky tone that renewed her blush. His lips began to curve. “Dare I hope to be more pleased by your actions?”
She turned her back upon him instead. The lace holding her stays took only a few quick motions to pull loose. The garment instantly fell away from her body. A little sigh of relief rose from her throat as her chemise was allowed to float gently around her natural shape.
A pair of hands cupped her breasts in the next moment. Curan curled around her, leaning over her while his hands began massaging her breasts. Excitement twisted her belly, flooding her with hungry need.
“Perhaps a better question might be, may I hope to please you, sweet Bridget?”
Rapture flowed from his hands into her, the tender globes of her breasts rejoicing in their freedom and the soothing motions of his hands. He chuckled when she did nothing more than lean back to allow him to continue. Her body rejected any course of action that involved interrupting the delightful motion of his hands.
“I should have paid that courtesan, for she did me a favor in agreeing to instruct you.”
He pressed a kiss against her neck and then released her. A whimper rose from her throat as she turned to see where he was. The expression on his face was fascinating to her. There had not been enough light last night to see him clearly. Now, the candles spread their yellow glow over him, giving her an unobstructed view of the hunger dancing in his eyes.
“For she taught you confidence, and that is something that should never be mistaken for a challenge to my authority. Too many fathers demand timidity from their daughters.”
“I never expected a man to understand that.”
“There are many things that you and I still have to learn about one another.” His eyes traveled down her length, pausing on the junction of her thighs. “I have a few ideas on where to begin our study.
”
She was tempted to bend beneath the demand that was flickering in his eyes. Her fingers worried the fabric of her chemise, and feeling the fabric between her fingers offered her a path to regaining dominance.
Grasping the fabric, she drew it up her body, baring her knees and thighs, and farther up until the fabric slipped over her head.
“Perfectly done.” His lips pressed into that hard line once again. “Perhaps too well done.”
She lifted one shoulder. “What was that you just said about not caring for timidity?”
He scoffed at her, but amusement danced in his dark eyes.
“Touché, my sweet.”
His hands moved to his britches. He made much faster work of opening the front of the garment, but she was no less captivated. It was a truth that she found his body pleasing to behold. His gaze remained on her the entire time, however, those dark eyes judging her response and possibly her nerve. His pants ended up being thrown away from him with no regard to where they landed.
The heat from the fire bathed her bare skin in warmth, but there was fire flickering in her belly. Knowing what his cock felt like deep inside her seemed to have removed all hesitation from her flesh. Passion sprang to life instantly and without any quibbling from her thoughts. Her nipples drew into hard points, and his gaze dropped down her body to linger on the two jewels. His face became a mask of hunger, and he pulled his shirt up and off with a motion that produced a soft tearing sound.
She did not get the chance to look at him. Curan closed the distance between them too quickly, his hands cupping her face before he claimed her mouth with a hard kiss. His lips demanded a response, and she did not deny him, could not deny him, for she was starving for his touch. Her mouth opened when his tongue teased her lower lip. The organ thrust deep into her mouth, tangling with her own in a dance that sent anticipation through her passage. Her hand reached for him, stroking over his hip and across his lean belly until she found his erect cock. Her fingers curled around the pole, delighting in the smooth skin.
