She had already fallen in love with Hugh, but madness might lay in that, if their love was denied, thwarted. There was only one person who might rescue her from the purgatory. Perhaps she and Hugh could help each other exorcise their demons. She resolved to try.
She turned to face him one summer’s day as they strolled through the fledgling apple orchard. “Hugh.”
He took his attention away from the tree branch he had been seemingly engrossed in inspecting. “Oui?”
“What are you most afraid of?”
He frowned, his hand trembling more than usual, though he tried to hide it from her.
“Afraid?” he said hoarsely.
Deafened by the thudding of her heart in her ears, she nonetheless had to continue. “If I tell you my fears, will you tell me yours?”
Hugh looked back at the apple tree. “I don’t know if I have the courage to face my ghosts, Devona.”
She cradled his face in her hands. “It’s hard to wrestle demons alone. I would help you lay them to rest. Will you help me conquer mine?”
Hugh took hold of her hands. “My biggest fear is that I’ll hurt you.”
For a moment, Devona was tempted to laugh. The torment of being near him, knowing she was bound to a monster intent on inflicting pain, was unbearable. The desolation on his face gave her pause. “You would never harm me.”
He let go of her hands and pressed his knuckles against his forehead. “Not intentionally, but—since Hastings—”
A ragged breath shuddered through him. He looked away, seemingly unable to continue.
She took his hands and placed them on her hips. “Tell me. I won’t judge you. You are my champion.”
He studied his feet, kicking at the dirt with his toe. “Hastings brought out the worst in me.”
Devona put her hands back on his face and forced him to meet her gaze. “How can that be true? You were a hero of the battle. You fought with great bravery.”
She barely heard his whispered reply. “I killed men.”
“But you didn’t enjoy it.”
He whirled away from her, pounding his fist into his palm. “But, I did. I did. I did. It aroused me, Devona. I liked it. Godemite, it aroused me. I couldn’t keep my shaft under control. The more I killed, the more aroused I became.”
With a shuddering breath, he fell to his knees in the rich brown earth, head bowed, hands on his thighs.
Every living creature in the orchard seemed to have fallen strangely silent.
“That’s the first Saxon word I’ve ever heard you speak.”
He frowned up at her. “What?”
Her mind was reeling. He was afraid he might abuse her, and her deepest fear was of being abused. She wiped away the tear that trickled down her cheek. She must keep her voice steady. “Tell me your fear, Hugh.”
He groaned. “I cannot.”
“Will it make you less of a man if you tell me?”
He sighed heavily. “Non, but it might drive you away.”
“Where would I go? This place, you—it’s all I have in the world. You are my world.”
He got to his feet, took hold of her hands, and looked into her eyes. “If we share our passion, I could kill you.”
Now she understood. She took his hands and put them around her neck. “Do you desire me now?”
He groaned. “I burn for you. I’ve wanted to possess you since the first moment I saw you on the stairs at Melton.”
She placed her hands over his and pressed them more tightly on her neck. “What do you want to do?”
He frowned, then looked into her eyes. She hoped he saw her desire for him. “Tell me.”
He nodded, gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. “I want to feel the weight of your breasts.”
His thumb stroked the pulse at her neck. Tiny winged creatures fluttered in her belly.
“I want to fondle your nipples.”
He tightened his grip. Heat prickled her breasts.
“I want to run my hands over the curve of your hips.”
Her secret woman’s place throbbed.
“I want to feel your wet heat with my fingers and plumb your depths with my shaft until you cry out.”
Her hips arched towards his. She blinked away tears. “In pain?”
He took his hands from her neck and pulled her to his body. “Non, in ecstasy. I want to hear you call my name in ecstasy.”
He kissed her then with a hunger she could feel in the tips of her toes. She allowed his tongue entry. He sifted his fingers through her hair and his heartbeat thrummed in rhythm with hers.
The chains around her heart fell away. “I’ve known pain at the hands of a man, Hugh. I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”
He groaned and buried his face in her neck. His erection pulsed against her. Then with a strangled cry, he pushed her away from him. “But what I want is a sin. You are wed to another.”
Devona put her fingertips on his lips. “What makes a marriage binding?”
He blinked. “Binding?”
She traced his bottom lip. “Yes. What, in the eyes of God and the Church, confirms that a man and a woman are wed to each other?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “They give each other their pledge.”
“No. A marriage can still be set aside, at that point.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “It must be consummated.”
She had to look away. What she had to tell him was so humiliating, so degrading.
He seemed to sense her agitation. “What are you trying to say?”
She swallowed hard and inhaled deeply. “I am not wed to Renouf.”
“But—”
No use holding back now. She had to make him understand. Her eyes locked on his. “I am not wed to Renouf.”
“He has never—?”
“No.”
He shook his head in confusion, holding out his hands. “You’ve been married to the brute for more than five years. In all that time he has never—?”
Devona feared she might swoon. Her face was burning, her insides churning. “He has other—preferences.”
Hugh looked at her as though she was speaking in Greek. She felt like a fool.
“Preferences?” he parroted.
Anger rose in her throat. How to explain something she did not understand, especially in a language not her own? “For heaven’s sake, Hugh. You’re a man. You’ve spent time in the company of all kinds of men. Have you known none who were—perverse? Men who—”
She turned away, her vision blurred by tears.
Songbirds chirped in the orchard, their wings in flight like the rustle of silk on the air.
He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to turn back to him. “Christ Almighty.”
He was beginning to understand. Relief and embarrassment flooded her. Was it something lacking in her to make Renouf act the way he did?
Hugh’s strained voice broke through the fog. “Kyrie eleison, Devona. You’re telling me the man never entered you? You’re telling me you’re a virgin?”
She wanted to be sick. “Yes. Maidenhead completely intact.”
Her knees buckled as she dissolved into a fit of sobbing. Hugh’s arms encircled her, and he held her close to his body, stroking her back.
He whispered something in her ear. Had she misheard?
She raised her face from his chest to look at him and he smiled a crooked smile. “Oui, me too—not the maidenhead, just the virgin part.”
A bolt of molten desire shuddered through the deepest part of her being. She put her hands on each side of his head and stood on tiptoe to kiss him, pressing her tongue against his lips. He opened his mouth and she thrust her tongue into its welcoming warmth.
Precious Gifts
Hugh broke them apart, panting. “Come with me,” he growled, leading her by the hand out of the apple orchard.
Conflicting emotions assailed him. The ache in his groin was unbearable, his body flooded with anger and elation. He would kill Renouf
de Maubadon for the damage wrought on Devona.
But the monster had not taken her most precious possession. That could yet belong to him. He had dreamt of making love to her to the point of obsession, but had never imagined her maidenhead might be his for the taking. He wanted to join with her there in his beloved orchard, beneath the leafy trees teeming with birds, but thought better of it. This occasion merited a fine bed.
The sensations coursing through his body just from the touch of Devona’s hand were astonishing. Love and lust surged through him. It was no longer a detriment that he was a virgin. It had become the most important thing he had to offer her.
By the time they reached his solar, he was struggling to calm his raging heart and loins, afraid of taking her too quickly. This would be a once in a lifetime experience for them both and he wanted it to be memorable. Not only would he take her maidenhead, it would be her first experience of intimacy and love.
He put his hands on her shoulders, careful not to grip her too tightly, and took a deep breath. “I want to make love to you, Devona. If it’s not what you want, tell me now. I would prefer death rather than take you against your will.”
She looked at her feet. “I am afraid. I cannot deny it.”
His heart plummeted.
She raised her eyes. “But it isn’t you I’m afraid of. It’s myself. I don’t know how to please a man. I’ve never been able to please Renouf.”
Anger threatened to consume him, but he restrained the inclination to allow his voice to betray his fury. He swallowed hard. “Renouf is a pig. Pigs are never satisfied. It’s in their nature. We will learn together how to please each other.”
Devona nodded shyly and smiled.
His heart soared. “May I undress you, Lady Devona Melton?”
Her green eyes flashed with desire. “Yes, milord Hugh de Montbryce.”
Taking her by the hand, he bade her sit on the edge of his bed. On his knees, he slowly lifted her skirt and folded it back against her thighs. The perfection of her knees and calves sent sparks of desire coursing along his spine.
He kissed one knee, then the other and stroked his hands down the backs of her legs.
She quivered then put her fingers in his hair and kneaded his scalp, her breathing uneven.
He unlaced her leather shoes and removed her garters then peeled off her silk stockings.
She shuddered when he kissed her toes.
One day, when his needs weren’t so pressing, he would wile away a pleasant hour kissing her dainty feet.
She leaned back on her elbows, a soft moan escaping her lips.
“Your feet are cold, my love. Let me warm them.”
He rose up on his knees, opened his doublet, then his shirt and pressed his chest against the soles of her feet. She bent her legs slightly, but kept her knees together. His heart raced when he caught a shadowed glimpse of her dark triangle.
He slid his hands up to her knees and then down her thighs, forcing the fabric of her bliaut to bunch around her hips.
Standing, he angled his body over her, put his hands around her waist, pressing his chest to the apex at the top of her legs and picked her up off the bed.
She groaned as he lowered her body until her warm cleft came to rest against his shaft.
He folded his arms around her, gently rocking his arousal against her.
She purred softly.
“I want to see your glorious hair.”
She reached up to unwind the wimple from her head. Even through the clothing her nipples hardened against his bare chest. He growled as she tossed the wimple to the floor and he caught the faint scent of female arousal.
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. “Like silk.”
His erection was rock hard, but he felt nothing but love and tenderness for this woman. A lead weight lifted off his soul. He grasped the hem of her bliaut and in one fluid motion lifted it over her head. She raised her arms and they slid out of the long sleeves as the fabric swished against her skin.
She stood before him in her thin linen chemise, raven hair falling over her shoulders to her waist.
He licked his dry lips and reached for the neckline of her chemise, intending to peel it down her body. He longed to see her breasts, thirsted to know the color of her nipples.
She arched her back, but pulled away from him, shaking her head.
He thought he might go mad if she refused him at this point.
“Wait, my love,” she whispered. “I want to undress you.”
His knees trembled. He coughed nervously as she pushed him gently to sit on the edge of the bed.
She knelt and unlaced the cross garters of his boots, gradually easing them off. She untied the tops of his woollen knee socks and freed his feet. His erection bucked when she traced her fingers over his toes. “You have long toes. I noticed them on the beach at Melton.”
She pressed his feet to her breasts.
“Dieu! You’re killing me, Devona.”
She rose up on her knees, as he had done, and after a quick glance into his eyes, laid her flushed cheek against his arousal, kneading his hips with her fingers. Her breasts pressed into his thighs. His shaft rioted against the gentle caress of her face. She raised her head and smiled.
Before he knew it, her delicate fingers had untied his points and she was peeling off his leggings. Coming to his feet, he tore off his doublet and shirt. They clung to each other. All that stood between them now was her chemise and his braies.
He took her hands, put them on his waist and helped her coax his braies over his hips. She gasped when his shaft sprang free, apprehension flickering in her eyes as she gazed at him. He took her hand and placed it on his manhood. Her touch sent liquid heat flowing through his veins.
“It’s for you, Devona, only for you. But if you’re afraid, we can stop.”
If we stop now…
She shook her head. “If we stop now, I’ll go mad.”
It came to him seconds later that he had torn off her chemise with too much force, but she seemed not to care. He had his mouth on her wine-red nipples before he could think. He suckled her and she keened his name as he licked and sucked.
She took in a sharp breath when his teeth grazed her nipple, and laughed as they fell together onto the bed.
He kissed her lips, his tongue pressing for entry. “Open your sweet mouth for me,” he rasped.
He explored the warmth of her mouth, the texture of her teeth and tongue, her breast filling his hand. He rolled the rigid nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She arched up off the bed, keening her release into his mouth.
She tore her lips from his, gasping for breath, her eyes wide. “Godemite, Hugh, what was that? I’m so wet.”
He chuckled, feeling smug. “That was your first taste of ecstasy. If Antoine is to be believed, it pales in comparison to what comes next. Now I want my taste of it.”
His fingers trailed down her belly to her wet heat.
She gasped when his fingers found her bud.
He stroked gently, then slid one finger inside. His mind filled with an image of his shaft plunging into the hot wetness he felt on his hand. He looked at her face as she trembled and writhed. Her eyes were closed, her head moving from side to side; she was making noises he had never heard a woman make before.
Kneeling between her legs, he gripped his shaft, nestling the swollen tip in the welcoming warmth of her cleft. She opened her trusting eyes. A deep guttural sound burst from his throat as he plunged through her maiden’s gate. He sheathed himself in her hot, tight grip, still pulsating from her earlier release.
Had she cried out when he breached her? Had he hurt her? He gritted his teeth and stopped moving.
“Did I hurt you?” he breathed into her ear. “Do you need me to stop?”
“You cannot stop now,” she growled.
His head, his heart and his shaft throbbed with deep need. He raised her arms above her head, entwined his fingers in hers and pressed her hands into the bo
lster. He flicked his tongue over each hard nipple, euphoric when she spasmed on his rigid flesh.
He withdrew slowly until the head of his shaft was just inside her, then plunged deeply again. Their eyes locked as he thrust over and over, feeling the heat building inside her.
She matched his rhythm and her eyes glazed over as they both lost control and fell into an abyss of bliss.
In a blinding moment of clarity he withdrew and spilled his seed on her belly. He offered up a silent prayer of thanks to God that this woman had been sent to deliver him from his torment. At last he was a whole man.
Panting hard, he collapsed on top of her, filled with a contentment he had never known.
As his wits slowly returned, he rolled over, taking her with him so she was cradled in his arms, her hair spilling over them both. He kissed her neck. “Sorry, I’m heavy.”
“You’re not a burden, Hugh. You have freed me.”
Happiness washed over him. It would be better still when he could claim this woman completely and fill her with his seed.
Passion
Devona woke lying atop Hugh, feeling sticky. She had drooled on his shoulder, like a babe. She had no notion of how long they had been asleep. When had she last slept so soundly?
She inhaled the scent of his skin—unique to him. His steady breathing told her he was still sleeping, but when she wiped her mouth, he ran his hand through her hair. His manhood stirred against her.
He turned her body gently so they were facing each other. He whispered her name, his blue eyes ablaze with desire.
She tucked a strand of his long hair behind his ear.
He took hold of her hand, kissed her palm, and then placed her hand on his arousal. “I need you again. I’ll never get enough of you. You’ve turned me into a rutting beast.”
Instantly contrite, he scrambled to sit cross-legged in front of her, still holding her hands. “I didn’t mean that as it sounded.”
His hands were warm. “I know. It’s all right. My desire for you has turned me into a ravenous hoyden as well.”
He glanced down at the sheen of his seed on her belly and the blood on her thighs, and on his own body. He left the bed and went to fetch a cloth and water from the dresser.
Defiance (The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition Book 2) Page 12
