by Jill Hughey
He studied her face for a moment until he finally understood. While he had been actively escaping the pain of her betrayal, she had been immersed in it, denied escape across the fields of Alda, surrounded by cruel strangers and memories with a cruelty of their own. He moved her hand to the place above his heart. Theo had told him, but he hadn’t heard. She had been waiting and suffering. For him. The idea of it smote him until he could barely breath. “I love you,” he whispered.
Her gaze finally lifted to his face. She nodded, incapable of words. Then he kissed her as he should have the moment he had left the field today. Softly and gently and reverently, until the heat built between them again.
She moaned in protest as he left her side to finish undressing. She studied his body, the sinew of his legs, the athletic cut of his hips, her eyes settling on his fully erect manhood. Primal recognition shaded her gaze, the instinctive knowledge that this would bring her fulfillment.
He knelt between her thighs, his legs shoving them wide. He placed his hands on her knees, relatively neutral ground in the present circumstance.
“Look at me, Rochelle.” Her eyes rose to his, her face glazed with desire. “It was not my intention to take you in this manner, or in this place of all places. If you choose to continue, then you are binding yourself to me, as a wife to a husband. No more denials. No more tricks. If I mount you now, no other man will ever touch you in this way as long as I live. No other man will lay claim to your body, or your estate, or your love. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She drew a deep breath. “No. I love you, David. I want to be yours.”
Triumph burst in his mind, and only with great difficulty did he hold in a shout. He leaned over, bracing his arms by her shoulders, a wry smile quirking his mouth. “And I, yours.” He sealed their pact with a gentle kiss, but soon his lips and hands were everywhere, building her up again to a place so high she could only cling to him, gripping first at his shoulders, then at his hips, urging him to take everything, and thus, give her everything.
At the first pressure of his sex against hers, she moaned. She was slick and tight, and the instinctive rocking of her hips brought him further inside her than he intended. “Gently,” he rasped, not sure if he was telling her or himself. With a few small strokes, he found the barrier of her maidenhead and stopped. She bit his neck for his care, so he pulled back to press smoothly through. She made no sound until he settled firm and high inside her.
She moaned his name in a tone he had never heard from her before. The sound seared the blood in his veins. Every muscle in his body tightened with the effort of his restraint.
He moved against her, forcing himself into a gentle rhythm, trying to be tender when he wanted to pound at her. She shook and moaned with pleasure, her legs quivered against his flank, her sheath pulsed around him exquisitely, but still she did not climax.
He was there with her, on the precipice. He could feel her trembling against him, her breath coming in little gasps, yet she would not let herself fall. “Open your eyes,” he ordered. She focused on him. He saw passion mingled with panic. He understood in an instant. She was afraid to relinquish the last vestige of her control. “Give to me, Rochelle,” he grit out. “I am here on the edge with you.”
“You are feeling this too?” she whispered in awe.
“Yes, I feel it,” he rasped. “But I cannot hold on much longer. Let go, my love. I want you to be with me.”
She stared at him for a heartbeat, taking in the harsh planes of his face, the familiar command over his body. “I want to be with you,” she breathed, bringing her hot palm to his cheek. His fingers touched her again and she held his gaze as long as she could as she pushed her hips up hard against him, twice, thrice, and he felt her shatter, her keening cry a sound of victory to his ears. He attended her, making sure she felt every pleasurable wave as he matched her motion. With her last echoing call to him, he heard the “snick” of the door. He caught her mouth against his, forcing himself into exquisite silence as he released his seed, pouring his soul into this beautiful woman who had finally agreed to become his wife.
In a few more minutes she would say the words to do so, in front of God and his representative here on earth.
But in this moment, she still knew only of him, her lover, her protector. He smoothed her hair gently back from her forehead. “You have made me very happy,” he murmured, echoing the simplicity of her earlier words. She smiled vaguely, stunned by what they had just shared. She’d never known such sensations existed. If she had, she’d probably have leapt on him the first night in Aix.
“It was beautiful,” she sighed.
He kissed her nose. “Remember what you promised, my wife,” he whispered, his eyes boring into hers.
“I —”
The familiar tinny voice of the priest interrupted her. “Who dares dirty the House of God with the…with the…with sins of the flesh? Do not think to fool me, I am an innocent, but even I can clearly recognize the sounds of…cavorting!” He huffed loudly. “Show yourselves, sinners!”
David brushed her lips with a kiss, then rose lazily off her, grunting as he slipped from her body. “Give us a moment so we do not show more than you are bargaining for,” he called, placing himself between her and the opening to the main basilica. If the priest approached, he’d be treated to a view of David’s backside. David began to replace his clothing with the efficiency of a man long accustomed to dressing quickly in less than optimal surroundings.
Rochelle lay staring at the ceiling for a few seconds. “How much did he hear?” she hissed, replaying in her mind the sounds she’d made. She’d been nigh to screaming at the end.
“Nothing. I would have muffled your cries if he had arrived any sooner.”
Rochelle flung her hands over her face, approaching panic at the absurdity of her position. She’d been caught, in a church — no, on an altar! — engaged in a sexual liaison with a man to whom she was not yet officially married. It was unthinkable. It was unforgivable before God. She was naked in a church! She scrambled for the edges of his cloak, wanting desperately to cover herself.
David, who had been watching her wildly swinging reactions, knelt and grabbed her hands to pull them to his lips. She could not bring herself to meet his eyes, but the fierceness of his voice broke through her shame. “Do not be ashamed of what has happened here. We are legally betrothed, we have lain together, and according to the beliefs of even that holier-than-thou priest, that is enough to be considered married. The words this man will say are just a formality.” He squeezed her fingers. “Do not let him cow you.”
How did he know the man would marry them? What was a priest doing here at this hour? It was so…convenient. “You planned this,” she said dully.
He scratched his head and appeared disgustingly pleased with himself. “Well, I did not plan to take your virginity on the altar of a church, if that is what you mean. But yes, I fully intended to marry you tonight. I brought you here with that distinct intention. Just like you, I did not want to miss my chance.”
She opened her mouth, ready to rail against him for his trickery. His deception. But who was she to shout about being the victim of a devious plan when she had placed him within reach of death just this afternoon? And tonight, he’d given her every opportunity to stop. If anyone had brought them naked to this dark altar, it had been her. Besides, this marriage was exactly what she wanted.
“No more denials,” she whispered to him.
His smile made her brave enough to face whatever waited for them in the main basilica. “No more tricks,” he promised.
“I demand to know who is there,” the priest yelled.
“David and Rochelle, who else?” Theo’s voice answered in exasperation.
Rochelle jumped. “What is he doing here?”
David rose to tie his braise. “He brought the priest,” he answered matter-of-factly. �
�I will keep them busy while you arrange yourself.” He strode away with a decided spring in his step. “Father!” he shouted. “You will need your books and your vestments. We have need for a wedding. Tonight!”
The man argued. “Weddings are to be public.”
“We will have another one tomorrow at noon. Get your book.”
Rochelle heard the priest bustle away.
David and Theo didn’t know she could hear their furious man-whispers as she fumbled with her clothing. Theo sounded on the edge of violence. “I never would have agreed to this if I had known how far you were going to carry out your plan. You said you would place yourselves in a compromising position so the priest would agree to marry you. Based on the satisfied grin on your face, you surpassed compromised by a long distance!”
David retorted, “This was not my plan. Things simply went too far.”
“You are a man. You are supposed to control yourself.”
“I could not,” David replied.
Rochelle, nearly done with pulling on her hose, hugged her knees at his admission of his desire.
“But here? You cannot wait a few more hours so you can bed her in a house? Great Christ, David! In a church? ”
“You are asking very personal questions. Too personal,” David warned.
“You are a complete bastard,” Theo countered, though his voice sounded less angry than before.
“I am a lucky bastard,” David answered.
Rochelle smiled to herself until the priest’s voice boomed out from the altar. “Are you coming to face your sinfulness, Lady Rochelle?”
“Yes, Father,” she answered in the meekest tone she could manage. She completely repaired her outfit, her cloak clasped tightly under her chin and nary a stray hair escaping her veil. When she emerged, her eyes were lowered as if in shame, but when she reached David’s side, she spared him a glance of pure mischief and twined her fingers with his so he knew things were well between them.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Marian was momentarily alarmed when Theo burst through his own front door. She’d been waiting and wondering for hours as the crowd in Theo’s hall slowly thinned, finally leaving her alone. Theo appeared a mite angry as he strode toward her, but David and Rochelle followed him at a leisurely pace, striding in step, their joined hands swinging between them. Something had changed. There was softness, almost a glow about them.
“Where have ye youngsters been off to so late?” she asked, unable to keep a smile from her lips as she rose from her chair.
David cleared his throat, but Rochelle forestalled him with a touch on the forearm. He gazed down at her with adoration — absolute adoration! — as he nodded. Marian was pleased to see him defer to her daughter, and more than a little surprised that Rochelle had given him the chance to do so.
“Mother, we have just been married,” Rochelle announced with a wobbly smile.
“By all that is holy, it is about time,” she cried. She opened her arms to Rochelle. They rocked each other in a weepy embrace. Marian left Rochelle to grab her new son-in-law’s face between her two little hands. She kissed both of his cheeks, then tearfully declared, “I knew ye’d do right by my girlie. I just knew ye’d do right. Ye are a good lad.”
David stared down at her, slightly bewildered by the affectionate praise. He patted her back as his face cracked into a happy smile.
Theo was not yet deflated. “Her father would be most aggrieved by the circumstances of this wedding,” he chided.
“Oh hush, Theophilus,” Marian interrupted as she stepped back from David to clasp her hands to her chest. “My husband would like David. He would be happy to deliver his only daughter into such capable hands, no matter what time of day or night.”
David inclined his head in thanks for her support as he explained, “There will be a proper public ceremony tomorrow at midday. Louis expressed an interest in witnessing the wedding.”
“Ye see, Theophilus, think how happy the emperor would be to know they have already done it!”
Theo choked.
“And another thing,” she continued. “They will need a room for tonight. Perhaps yer office?”
“Where am I to sleep?” Theo nearly whined. “I have already given up my bedroom for some of the older men.”
“Anywhere ye choose. This is their wedding night and they have need of privacy.” She could not understand why this evoked another choke of laughter from Theo, who then received a reproving glare from David.
Marian was not taking “no” for an answer, quickly barking out orders. “David, go to the office and relax. You have had quite an exhausting day. Rochelle will join you in a short time.”
As she climbed the steps behind her mother, Rochelle felt sure this was the most unorthodox wedding day she’d ever heard of. Her mother turned to her at the top landing. “Now, when we go in the room ye just show me whatever ye want to wear tomorrow and I will have it ready. Then we will get you out of these things and tidy you up a bit. And grab some nice linens for the office.”
“Thank you, Mother, but I must tell you something first,” Rochelle protested.
“What is it?” Marian asked.
“I am not sure the priest will be as silent as he should. You may hear some rumors tomorrow and I would not want you to be…shocked.”
“Ye know I have no time for wagging tongues.”
“Yes, but, the thing is, David and I, we did things a bit out of order tonight.” At Marian’s confused expression, Rochelle continued. “Before we said the words with the priest, we were, uh, alone for a time.”
Marian grabbed her in a crunching hug and rocked her from side to side. “I do not care about that. Not one whit. Oh, Rochelle, such a man for you. My only babe, well-married!”
“Yes, Mother, but other people care a great deal about such things.”
“Let them talk, girlie. Ye are happy. David is happy. I am happy. Louis will be ecstatic. Who else matters?” she asked, gesturing viciously at the door.
When they entered the office a few minutes later, David lounged in a chair, cloak removed and his bare feet stretched in front of him. Theo’s large sleeping pallet took up much of the floor space in front of the desk. Her mother had a pile of fresh, white linens for it. Rochelle carried a parcel of her clothes, her healing bag, and a jug of water. David’s eyes locked on his wife.
When Marian began to change the sheets on the bed, Rochelle quietly asked her to leave them. She could see David was dead tired. Marian nodded, leaving the room with no more fussing. Rochelle quickly replaced the linens, piling the dirty ones near the door.
“Do you wish to sleep?” she asked.
“I do,” he replied. He rose from the chair to disrobe. She could not help but stare as he revealed the lines of his powerful form again. When he uncovered the bandage on his shoulder, she noticed it was dappled with bright red blood. “Oh no, you have broken it open.” She rushed forward to tend him.
“I think, in fact, that you broke it open,” he replied, mirth crinkling the corners of his tired eyes.
The stain of a blush rushed to her cheeks as she gently unwound the wrapping. “It is not too bad,” she said, carefully pulling the cloth away from the puncture just above his armpit and the slice over the top of his shoulder. He gave a great yawn. “You could lie down while I find some salve for it.” He gratefully removed the remainder of his clothing before sliding into the makeshift bed with a satisfied sigh, tugging the top sheet up to his waist and closing his eyes.
Rochelle knelt beside him to gently dab at the wounds with a wet cloth. She blew on them until the water dried then applied a thin layer of ointment. “Now you will just need to sit up so I can replace the bandage.” When he didn’t move, she glanced to his face. He was already asleep, his lips parted with the hint of a smile.
She smiled tenderly. It would not hurt to leave the cuts uncovered for the night. She knew from their week of travel together he did not thrash around in his sleep, and if he did, she would
be here to stop him. She longed to push a lock of hair off his forehead but was reluctant to risk disturbing him. So she settled for studying the broad expanse of his chest as it rose and fell, remembering the flex of his muscles when he had come into her, the cords of his neck standing out with his climax.
Her eyes traced down to a smattering of golden hairs around his belly button. One of his hands rested on the sheet, the knuckles bruised and scabbed from today’s event. Yet he had been so careful with her tonight. Not once did she feel mishandled or overpowered by those hands. Overpowered by the deluge of physical desire, yes, but never frightened by his strength. She studied his face and body until her eyelids grew heavy.
She rose to glance around the room. David’s clothes were piled near the chair. She folded them neatly, his scent rising from them, the novelty of handling his clothing affecting her in a silly way. She felt so wifely and possessive it made her chuckle at herself.
She walked to the pile of her own things, glancing at her sleeping husband as she undressed. She cleansed herself, the cold water as titillating as her survey of David’s body had been. Would it be wrong to awaken her exhausted husband for more loveplay? Would he be shocked if she came to their bed without a nightgown? She compromised by donning her soft white gown with the laces loose so it gapped around her neck and across her breasts.
She settled next to his good side, pulling the heavier blanket over them, brave enough only to put her hand over his. He curled his fingers in hers with a vague smile. She watched his profile in sleep until her eyes fluttered closed.
It seemed only moments later when a touch as soft as a feather slid down her cheek to her neck, continuing over her chest. She opened her eyes to see David on his elbow, watching his finger on her skin. The deep colors of earliest dawn showed through the one small window. His hand slipped into the neckline of her nightgown, pulling it aside to lazily trace her nipple. His expression reminded her of the day she’d discovered his headaches. He watched his hand on her breast with wonderment and tenderness, then swiftly slid it down to reach across her body and grip her waist.
