by Jill Hughey
“Every morning since we have been betrothed I have awakened in this state.” His voice was gruff with sleep but intense. “Aroused, desiring you, as if you had slept next to me.”
The idea of it sent a thrill through her, a pulse of lust that coursed through her to that place brought to life the first day they’d met. “I am here now,” she said, hoping to make the invitation clear.
Even her wish for his attentions did not prepare her for his urgency. He abruptly pushed back the covers to tug at the hem of her gown, leaving it piled around her waist. His fingers tested her. He murmured his relieved praise at her wetness while positioning himself over her. Her unseasoned eyes had only seconds to appreciate the fullness of his sex before he settled carefully but relentlessly within her with a pleased sigh.
He nuzzled at her ear. “Am I too eager a groom?” he asked, even as he moved slightly, beginning the intimate dance she recalled from last night.
“No more virginal protests. No more boundaries,” she answered, awed by his desire for her.
“No more endless wanting,” he rasped as he pulled out to thrust in again, harder and harder.
She wrapped her arms around his ribs to hold him tightly as he rode her, his immediate need palpable. She reveled at his nearness, at the love shining in his eyes, at being his wife. He climaxed with a moan. She caressed his back, stunned out of words by the intimacy and power of the moment, with her husband collapsed upon her, still within her. She kissed his injured shoulder.
When he pulled away, she lamented his leaving, but he only slipped to one side, sitting beside her and bringing a hand to her belly.
“Now that I have that out of my system,” he said with anticipation, “you will not need this.” Urging her to a sitting position, he pulled her nightgown the rest of the way over her head. She couldn’t imagine what he had in mind since they had obviously just done the mating. His eyes adored her. She glanced at him shyly, her innocent question obvious in her expression.
“This morning we have time. And light. Be still for me. I want to learn every part of your beautiful body.”
He proceeded to do so, his hands sliding over her and his mouth tasting until her skin became heated. She pressed against him, whispering his name, but he would not be rushed. The needful place within her deepened and spread.
If he would just touch between her legs she knew she would fly to the peak he’d carried her to last night. But he did not touch her there for a long time. He lovingly memorized every bit of her smooth skin, every nuance of sound she might emit. He stroked and kissed each piece of her except the center of her need, until she was a moaning, quivering mess of desire.
She moved her legs restively, parting them to hook a calf behind his own. She felt his manhood hard again against her hip, and she whispered, “Yes.”
He smiled at her, his eyes half-closed, his hips settling between her thighs, gently entering her in a smooth stroke until he filled her. “Yes, sweetling, yes.”
She sighed and she knew. She knew the answer to the internal question she’d asked since the first time he’d touched her. When he brought his fingers to her, she knew that this was how desire was assuaged, how pounding lust found relief, how physical love expressed the needfulness of the heart.
Then she knew of nothing but the steadily rising waves carrying her higher until she again teetered on the precipice. Nothing existed in all of creation except them. She saw nothing but her beloved’s face. She heard nothing but his encouraging moans mingling with her own cries in the soft morning air. She tasted nothing but the salt of his skin. She felt nothing but the rapture of his body reaching fulfillment with hers.
After, when their damp skin registered the chill of the room, David slid off of her to tuck her against his side, her head pillowed on his good shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered.
He squeezed her and kissed the top of her head. “As I love you, my wife.” They slipped into a satisfied sleep, awakening hours later to the sounds of breakfast intruding through the office door.
Though neither particularly wanted to leave their nest, both were ravenously hungry, not to mention that they must attend their second wedding. They washed and dressed quickly. “I think that my appearance with you this morning will be the final ornament for my spectacularly bad reputation,” Rochelle observed as she finished adjusting her veil over her hair. “But do not think that I care. I do not,” she assured him as she linked her arm in his possessively. “I want every one of these twits to know I shared a bed with you last night. Maybe that will stop them from talking about sending their fathers to ask for your hand.”
David threw his head back and laughed as he opened the door. Theo and Marian had been spreading the news of the impending nuptials, and many of the guests, though obviously perplexed by the turn of events, offered polite if bemused congratulations to the couple.
The wedding was well attended considering almost no one had been invited. Louis the Pious sat regally in the front pew, and The Damsels were mournful enough to be at a funeral. Marian dabbed at her eyes with her sleeves. Theo smiled with genuine happiness and more than a little pride at having finally gotten them together, no matter how scandalous the last week — and last night — had been. The only person obviously absent was Doeg, though the only person who missed him was David.
After the ceremony, the emperor congratulated them then turned away, disinterested now that his subjects had been curbed to his will. Rochelle clung to David’s arm as they made their way through the crowd to the church’s exit. She emitted an excited squeal when she saw Samuel and Alda’s other tenants clustered to one side of the street. “You should have come in!” she scolded, laughing at their horrified expressions at the thought of occupying the same building as their emperor.
David drank in Rochelle’s lively happiness as he stood back to watch her with her people. He thought of where he had been yesterday at this time – perhaps lying on his back on the tournament field, or shouting at Rochelle as she offered him her potion. He had not been entirely honest with her last night when he asked how she could think he would part with her. By the end of the tournament, he had decided to reject her, prompted by the combination of suspicion and pain in his head and heart.
Theo had lectured him like a child as they’d walked to the tent, then reminded him again that Rochelle had seen The Black with the rock, that Rochelle had brought her healing kit, that Rochelle had chastised the battlemaster on David’s behalf, and that Rochelle had tasked Theo with protecting David after the tournament.
David remembered only snippets of the tournament. His clearest memory from the entire event was Rochelle’s face filling his admittedly blurry vision as she demanded Look at me! According to the emperor, she had literally climbed across his royal shoulder and indecorously launched herself from the railing of the platform to get to David’s side, screeching like a banshee the entire time. In David’s final analysis, that single act spoke more eloquently of her real feelings for him than any words could have done. Instinct drove her to him in his moment of vulnerability, with no consideration to decorum or politeness. Rochelle had once described him as fierce. Clearly she could — and would — match him in that respect.
When he awoke this morning, he had first been aware of resting on a relatively comfortable surface, and secondly that someone else slept next to him. Memories of the previous night flowed through his mind. Joy exploded in him when he’d turned his head to see Rochelle sleeping peacefully, mahogany hair wild around her head, white tunic barely covering her. His wife. He knew he’d made the right decision and resolved to erase the events of the last few weeks from his mind and marriage, starting by making love to his very desirable spouse.
David’s increasingly pleasant thoughts were interrupted by Samuel’s timid approach. The other tenants followed suit to offer respectful congratulations to their new master, surrounding him with their shy approval. Rochelle returned to him, once again slipping her hand to his arm.
&n
bsp; “They are planning to begin the journey home tomorrow,” she said. The whole group looked to him expectantly. He realized they — and Rochelle — were waiting for his decision on whether he, Rochelle, and Marian would travel with them. As much as he wanted to spend several days relaxing with his wife, he realized that Alda called to him as well. One afternoon of sex and napping would have to suffice until he moved into the master chamber at home.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
David knew their return to Alda would be a sensitive thing. While he believed in Rochelle’s love for him, he did not expect her to immediately accept him into her world. This had been the crux of all their difficulties thus far, and he knew such deeply entrenched impediments did not just vanish.
His plan was to move in as the new master, but let her set the forward pace in all things for awhile, at least for the winter. He would get to know the people and further familiarize himself with the land and business of the estate. He was also thinking again about his forge and weapon-making, eager to pursue the idea and make his own mark.
They arrived at the house in the middle of the afternoon, damp and dirty after two wet, chaste days with Marian and the tenants.
“You can go upstairs,” Rochelle suggested as they entered the hall. “I will talk to Ruthie about food and a bath.”
He felt that being sent to the master chamber was a good start. When he entered the room, he noticed the possessions he’d left in the men’s guest room had been moved here. His trunk rested across the room from Rochelle’s. He smiled. She must have instructed the servants before leaving for Ribeauville.
She joined him, bearing a welcome tray of fresh bread, cheese, meat and dried fruit. “Ruthie will bring a bath up here. It is extra work, but just this once I thought we deserved some privacy.”
Ruthie and Cook lugged in a tub and started carrying buckets of hot water. When the tub was full, Rochelle urged David into it, admiring his body in the afternoon light as he removed his mud-stiffened clothes. The tub was small for him, but he sank in the water with a sigh, immediately dunking his head. He grabbed the soap to wash himself then lay back with a groan.
“Do you always enjoy your bath so much?” Rochelle asked, laughing from where she perched on the bed.
“The hot water feels wonderful. I am still a little sore from the tournament,” he admitted.
“You are?” Rochelle cried with dismay. She hadn’t noticed anything amiss. “Why did you not say something?”
He shrugged then groaned louder as her fingers massaged his shoulders, carefully avoiding the wounds. Her hands moved down his arms. She pushed up her sleeves several times with irritation. Finally she gave up, stripping the tunic over her head. David opened his eyes to study her with appreciation.
She looked at the sleeves of her undertunic before giving David a devilish smile. She yanked it over her head, too. After slipping out of her undergarments and hose, she knelt behind him to begin kneading his shoulders again. She let her hands slip down to his chest, rubbing the pectoral muscles with light pressure. His breath sucked in as her palms pressed on his tight stomach.
He let his head drop back. She kissed his cheek then slipped to the side of the tub to minister to his heavily muscled thighs. He moaned in his throat. Turning his head to look at her, he noticed her breasts at the top of the tub. He reached up with a wet finger to circle a nipple lazily. She smiled at him, letting him tease both breasts before moving to the foot of the tub to softly rub his calves.
Sliding her hands slowly along his bent legs, she explored his scrotum. She scrutinized David’s face for any sign of discomfort or disapproval, not knowing what would be welcomed or allowed. He seemed completely blissful, his arms relaxed on the edge of the tub, his eyes closed. She let the other hand stray upward, finding the rigid flesh of his manhood. Her fingers slipped along its velvet length then circled the tip gently, slid down to the base then back up. She learned the size and shape of the strokable skin encasing a rod of iron.
With a growl, he curled her hand around him, guiding her for a moment. Her eyes sparkled with enlightenment as she began moving her hand in a way that mimicked his movements within her. She felt his testicles tightening against her hand. His fingers gripped the edge of the tub.
“Rochelle, you should stop,” he said in a strangled voice.
She did not, but asked, “Why? Do you not like it?”
“I do like it, but you will make me spend in the bath water.”
The idea of it thrilled her. “Is that wrong?”
“Not so much wrong as a waste of my seed.”
She smiled mischievously. “We were together six times in the first day and a half of our marriage. You never ran out.”
“God willing,” he choked.
“I would like to pleasure you in the tub, just this once,” she whispered. “You know so much about my body and I so little about yours.”
He raised his head, noting her pink cheeks and her teeth biting her bottom lip. He realized this was exciting to her and Lord knew he was enjoying her attentions. He let his head drop back in surrender. “Ravish me, if you must,” he sighed.
And she did, following her own instincts and his increasingly garbled encouragement. She watched his expression grow taut, exulting when every muscle in his body went rigid and he pushed his hips up against her hand. “Do not stop,” he grit out when she hesitated, then he grunted as she stroked him, finally staying her hand when he couldn’t bear it any more.
She continued to cradle him, marveling at the physical changes of his body, so similar to those she felt within herself after they had coupled. A softening, a relaxation, a complete release of tension.
“Sweetling,” he said out of breath, “you offer a new surprise daily.”
“Hopefully you will still feel that way when we are old and gray,” she laughed
He rose, water coursing down his body. She sat back on the floor to watch. He shook his head ruefully. “Look how desirable you are sitting there, and I cannot do a blessed thing about it.”
She tossed a towel to him, then donned her robe, then called down to Ruthie. If the servants minded seeing their new master lounging on the bed in only a robe, they betrayed nothing, quickly refilling the tub with clean water.
Rochelle slid in to wash. Her hands were lathering her hair when she sensed David’s eyes on her. He was propped on pillows, his legs crossed at his ankles, studying her with renewed heat in his gaze. She felt keenly the new confidence of feminine power, and performed the rest of her cleansing for his benefit. He continued to watch with hooded eyes as she dried, not missing the gentle sway of her hips when she walked to the bed to tug at his robe.
“I am not finished learning about you. Will you lay on your stomach?”
His brows shot up, but he complied, placing his hands by his head. She knelt to one side of him, admiring. He was splendid, all broad shoulders and bulging biceps, lean waist, muscles ridged along his spine. Her palms caressed his back firmly. She let her fingers find his ribs under the thin padding of muscle there, then skimmed down to his waist and hips. She enjoyed the lightly haired curve of his buttocks and the crease where they met his thighs. She stroked his legs, even rubbing the bottoms of his feet, causing him to curl his toes and chuckle.
Smiling down at him, she considered this masculine creature so comfortably and rightly in her bed. Having him here, in the master’s room, at her side for life, felt perfectly natural. She’d known it the first day he’d been at Alda, yet she’d fought the knowledge. He was a treasure she hadn’t known existed, and was now magically hers. Here. Forever. His presence brought an exquisite ache to her heart. Her eyes swam with tears and she suddenly couldn’t be close enough to him
She crawled up to lie on him, her cheek between his shoulders, her breasts pressed into his back, her arms bent atop his. The smooth skin of her legs rubbed pleasantly against his hairy ones.
“You feel nice up there,” he murmured. “I could be with you like this forever
.”
She tried to hide her tears, but warm wetness escaped to his back.
“Rochelle?” he asked, alarmed. “Are you crying?”
“It is nothing,” she whispered, stroking his arm distractedly.
“It must be something. Let me roll over.” He turned carefully to gather her against him. “Tell me.”
“It is just…it is hard to put into words. My mother told me, soon after you and I met, that having a man in my life would add layers. I did not know what she meant then, but I think I do now. No one can really explain this level of intimacy, can they? I can stand in a group of people who have known me my whole life, but you are the one to whom I can ask any question and admit any sin. A gaze shared with you is an intimate bond. If I hold your hand, I can be carried to this moment of utter safety.” She lifted her head to search his eyes. “Does that make sense? Does it happen to you?”
“Yes,” he admitted, his smile adoring as he pushed her tangled damp hair back from her face. “Though it is not safety I feel so much as…belonging to you. Of having the gift of your tenderness toward me.”
“Is it the same, though? You said on the night we were married that no man would know me as you would. I am sure you have had other women.”
He ran his thumb over her lips to silence her. “Not like this. No woman has ever touched me the way you do, body and soul. And I have never revealed myself, never yielded myself as I do with you. I am certain that no woman has ever, or will ever, know me as you do in this moment. Ever.”
Rochelle traced his brow with a fingertip. “This is a powerful bond, is it not?”
“Like nothing I have ever even imagined.”
She rested her cheek on his chest. “So close,” she whispered.
He hugged her tightly, knowing she thought again of the tournament, of how near they had come to pushing away from each other forever. “In a way, I am glad things happened the way they did. If you had simply agreed to marry me, or if I had succeeded in seducing you, I am not sure either of us would understand one other as well as we do.”
