He handed her the moistened linen, holding his breath when she came to her knees and washed him as he stood by the side of the bed. She dried him with her hair and pecked a kiss on the end of his swelling shaft.
She gasped when it came to her she had put her mouth on him.
He took hold of her wrist. “What’s wrong?”
She stared at his manhood. “I—I kissed you. I kissed you—there.”
“You can kiss my manhood whenever you wish, my lady,” he jested, but became serious when he saw the tears well in her eyes. “It’s all right. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Many men boast that their women put their mouths…”
His eyes darkened and she knew he’d discerned the awful reality she’d endured.
He gathered her to his body. “I will kill him.”
They stayed locked in each other’s embrace for long moments as he struggled to control his anger. “I’ll never ask you to do anything you don’t wish to. I swear it to you.”
She nodded. “But I wanted to kiss you there. Renouf would never let me touch him. Not that I wished to. He tied my hands behind my back, so I couldn’t—”
Hugh’s eyes widened in understanding. He grasped her hands and smoothed his thumbs over the red marks still visible on her wrists. “I avoided thinking how these marks came about. I remember the marigold.”
She laughed. “I wondered if you could smell it.”
His voice was hoarse. “I’ll never forget it. It roused me.”
Desire coiled deep in her belly. She pushed his shoulder gently. “Lay back. Let me kiss you again.”
His erection bucked as she knelt between his legs and feathered her lips to the tip of his shaft. He was bigger than Renouf, thicker, silkier—beautiful. She swirled her tongue around him. He inhaled a shuddering breath and put his hands on her shoulders. Her body wept for him as tears of passion filled her cleft. She curled her hand around the base of his maleness and moved her hand on him.
He grinned, his eyes betraying his need. “I’m about to swear in Saxon again.”
An urge to devour him surged through her and she took him wholly in her mouth.
He groaned. “Godemite! Be gentle with me, wench. I’m new at this.”
Devona was filled with a sense of power she had never known. Now she was the one in control and it was euphoric. She moved her mouth on him, mimicking the thrusting that had enthralled him earlier, one hand moving against the root, the other caressing his sac. Renouf had never allowed her to put her hands on him, preferring his own rough touch. All she wanted now was to fulfill this man’s needs.
“Take your mouth off me,” he commanded suddenly.
Startled, she looked up.
“Grip me. Keep moving your hand. I want you to see the effect you have on me, the needs you provoke.”
Seconds later he growled her name as his seed erupted from his phallus like a torrent from a breached dam. She had never seen anything so essentially male. He was like a purebred stallion, yet gentle and vulnerable. He had trusted her.
She gazed at him, watching his shaft soften in her sticky hand, overwhelmed by love. His breathing slowed and he opened his eyes.
He pushed his body up so his weight was on his elbows. “That was selfish. I didn’t meet your needs.”
Tears of joy welled in her eyes. “My love, you cannot know what you just did for me.”
She nestled into him and they dozed, until he reached to touch her most intimate place, never taking his eyes from hers. He smiled knowingly. “Would you like me to pleasure you, milady?”
She nodded, and he turned her body so she was lying beside him. He took one nipple into his mouth and suckled her. Fire crept down her thighs, then into her lower belly. She cradled his head, holding her breast to his lips. He fingered her engorged bud, stroking, then pressing, then stroking again, until she thought she might go mad with the exquisite sensations. Each time he caressed, he slid his finger further and further inside her, then two fingers, then three.
Suddenly she was screaming, making guttural sounds that she had never made before as a rising crescendo of pleasure swept over her. Hugh’s mouth was on hers and his manhood was sliding home, thrusting and thrusting. She entered a world of sublime rapture, her sheath pulsating against him until he withdrew, growling out his release.
She felt like a drunkard when he lifted her moments later and cradled her to his chest. “You’re good at this, for a novice,” she teased.
He laughed. “I may have been chaste, but I’m not deaf. Antoine could write a treatise on how to please a woman, and he’s not shy about sharing his knowledge.”
She giggled, cuddling into him. “Thank God for Antoine and his prowess.”
“Indeed! In fact, there’s one way he told me about we’ll have to try, but not now. Darkness is falling. Your family will wonder what’s become of you. We must go down to sup in the hall. All this passion has whet my appetite.”
Pledge
Antoine had barely dismounted from his sweating horse in Domfort’s bailey before delivering the unwelcome news. “Word has come from His Majesty. He’s back in Normandie, ready to begin his campaign to recover Le Maine.”
Hugh was a warrior, a member of a noble military family with an heroic history and reputation, a man raised since birth to protect his land.
By making love to him less than a sennight before, Devona had helped him understand that while violent action in battle might arouse him, it was a common experience for many warriors.
Yet he was loath to join this campaign in Le Maine, reluctant to leave Devona. There were matters to be dealt with concerning their relationship. In the eyes of the Church, they had committed adultery.
He tried to convince her to accompany him to the bishop, but she refused, forbidding him to tell anyone of her humiliation.
Devona’s family were aware of the change in their relationship—they could not keep their hands off each other—but he sensed Lady Wilona disapproved of their sharing a chamber. Devona admitted she had never told her mother what had happened to her at Renouf’s hands.
Hugh tried desperately not to spill his seed inside her, but in the euphoria of his release, she might conceive. She would be alone if he left on a campaign.
Domfort and Belisle were close to the border with Le Maine. It was in both his and Antoine’s interest that the Conqueror regain control of the territory from the Angevins.
The brothers walked together into the hall.
Antoine stopped suddenly when he saw Devona.
He knows. Just by looking at her he can tell.
He bowed and kissed her hand. “Lady Devona, you’re looking remarkably well. Living in our beautiful Normandie seems to agree with you.”
Her face reddened. “Yes, thank you. I do love it here.”
She glanced over at Hugh, confusion in her eyes.
He hated what he had to tell her. “My knights and I ride soon for Le Maine.”
“Le Maine?”
Devona could have no notion of the politics of Norman enmity with Anjou. “To the south. The land there belonged to Normandie, but a few years ago the Angevins took advantage of the king’s absence in England and invaded. William wants Le Maine back and will lead us in the campaign.”
Devona swayed and leaned back against one of the trestle tables pushed against the wall. “King William is in Normandie? Will he come here?”
He hated the fear that darkened her eyes.
“He may muster troops here. He’s always trusted our family.”
Antoine had seen her fear. “It’s more likely he will gather our forces at Belisle. We are closer to the disputed territory.”
Devona gripped the edge of the trestle. “So you ride to Le Maine to fight?”
Hugh saw no point in denying what he was, what his life was. This wouldn’t be the last time he would have to leave her to heed the call of distant drums. “Montbryces are warriors, Devona.”
He saw the same powerless desolation in her eye
s that tore at his own heart. If he died in battle, what would become of her? She would have no champion, no one to keep her out of Renouf’s clutches. If only there was some way they could be married.
He looked long and hard at his brother.
Antoine bristled. “What is it?”
“I need you to be a witness.”
His brother arched his brows, but said nothing.
Hugh took hold of Devona’s hand. “I am pledging myself before you to Lady Devona Melton.”
Antoine scratched his head. “Pledging yourself?”
“As her husband.”
Devona gasped.
His brother’s shoulders stiffened. “You cannot be her husband. She already has a husband, and you’re playing—”
“Non, she does not.”
Antoine threw his hands in the air. “How can that be?”
Devona’s fingernails dug into Hugh’s palm.
“I cannot tell you. You simply have to believe me when I tell you her marriage to Renouf was never consummated.”
Antoine snorted. “Look, brother, she may have told you that—”
“Don’t insult her. She was virgin when she came to my bed.”
Antoine swore. “You’ve bedded her? Did you heed none of my warnings? You’ll bring the king’s wrath down on your heads if he finds out.”
“It’s my intention to tell him.”
He put his arm around Devona’s shoulders when she swayed. “I’ll take our case to the king. How can he support Renouf in this?”
“They are married. She agreed to be his wife. He will condemn her and imprison you, maybe even me if he finds out I aided you. I’m sorry, Devona, I didn’t mean to imply that I regret—”
She was sobbing. “Please, I cannot bear the thought of the two of you suffering on my account. I’ll give myself up to be returned to Renouf.”
“Non,” both brothers shouted at once, and a third voice joined the denial. Lady Wilona Melton had entered the hall. Hugh wondered how much she had overheard.
He grasped his brother’s arm. “Please, I beg you. Witness our pledge to each other.” He turned to Devona. “That’s if you wish to be my wife.”
She sank to her knees, kissed Hugh’s trembling hand and held it to her cheek. “It’s my dearest wish.”
Antoine folded his arms across his chest, and looked down at his feet. He was silent for long minutes before he drew his sword. “Very well. Kneel before me and place your hands on the hilt.”
He pointed the weapon to the floor. Hugh slapped him on the back and then knelt beside Devona. They placed their hands atop Antoine’s sword.
Looking into his beloved’s eyes, Hugh pledged himself. “Lady Devona Melton, this day, in the year of Our Lord One Thousand and Seventy-Three, I give you my troth as your husband. I will love and honor you until the day of my death, so help me God.”
He nodded to her.
“Milord Hugh de Montbryce, as God is my witness, this day I give you my troth as your wife. I will love and honor you until the day of my death.”
Antoine placed his hand atop theirs. “As an honorable knight pledged to the service of His Majesty, King William the Conqueror, and as Seigneur of Belisle, I declare that Hugh de Montbryce and Devona Melton are pledged to each other as man and wife.”
Hugh helped Devona to her feet, noticing the smile on Lady Wilona’s face. “Thank you, brother.”
Antoine sheathed his sword and exhaled a loud sigh. “I’ve done all I can, Hugh. Only God can help you now. The king is not the only one recently returned from England. Renouf has been to see the Bishop of Caen. Jubert is following him. He headed south from Caen, in this direction.”
Lady Wilona gasped and collapsed to the floor.
A fortnight later, Hugh rode into the darkened bailey of his brother’s castle, having left his knights and men-at-arms camped outside the walls with the hundreds of armed men mustered for the attack against Le Maine.
The last time he had seen his king, they had shared an amicable meal in his own castle. He doubted if his reception would be as warm this time.
He went straight to the solar and entered without knocking.
Antoine jumped to his feet and clasped hands with his brother. “Better to avoid His Majesty. He isn’t happy with us. The Bishop of Caen has been to see him. It’s a good thing he has this invasion uppermost in his mind at the moment. How is Devona faring?”
Hugh slumped onto the bed, easing off his boots. “She’s terrified. It was hard to leave her. I could only garrison a token force there to protect her since the king’s expectations of my contribution to this campaign were high. Do we know where Renouf is now?”
“He tried to enter Alensonne, but Cormant kept him out.”
Hugh leapt to his feet, running his hand over his head, shaved for battle. “Alensonne? Mon Dieu. He could easily go to Domfort from there.”
Antoine shrugged. “Or come here for that matter, if he finds out the king is in residence. Not much we can do about it. Jubert will keep us informed. We have no choice but to follow William into Le Maine. He has set me the task of securing the fortification at Grandeguay, en route to Le Mans. You and your men are to aid in the taking of the town itself.”
“Well, the sooner we go, the sooner we can be back.”
Antoine offered his brother a tankard half full of ale. “I’ll drink to that.”
Two days later, the Conqueror and his entire host of knights and men-at-arms camped on the outskirts of Grandeguay-sur-Sarthe, within sight of the chateau and fortification governed by the Angevin Seigneur Denis de Sancerre, who refused to capitulate.
The king sneered. “The fool must be mad. Can he not see he’s hopelessly outnumbered?”
Antoine offered his thoughts. “Perhaps, Your Majesty, the plan is to delay us here so the citizens of Le Mans can prepare.”
The king had commanded the brothers attend while he supped in the royal pavilion. Neither wished to be there. William chewed leisurely on a cold chicken leg. “That won’t happen, Montbryce. We will leave you and your forces here to deal with Sancerre while the rest of us press our advantage on Le Mans.”
Antoine bowed. “I’m confident we’ll make short work of the defenses here.”
The king wiped his mouth then drummed his fingers on the camp table. There was a long silence before he spoke again, his eyes on Hugh. “What’s to be done about this Saxon woman?”
Hugh bristled. The Saxon woman was his wife.
He feigned ignorance. “Your Majesty?”
William banged his fist on the table, almost collapsing the flimsy structure. “Don’t play the fool with me, Hugh de Montbryce. Your actions have put me in an intolerable position. You know I cannot go against the teachings of the Church, nor would I wish to. You have abducted the wife of another man. That’s a sin, and I will not condone it.”
Hugh’s heart thudded in his ears. He was honor bound by his promise to Devona not to tell anyone of her humiliation, but this was his king, a man who held the power of life or death over them both. He remained silent, knowing to argue would be foolhardy.
William looked directly at him, his mouth stern. “You must return her to her husband.”
Hugh clenched his fists, his arms rigid at his sides. “He will kill her.”
The king stood, his face red. “That’s his right. Do not force me to make a decision I don’t want to make. You are both dismissed. See to it.”
The brothers bowed and left the pavilion. Hugh could barely make his legs work and his hand trembled uncontrollably. They did not speak again until they were sure they were well away.
“I’ll not deliver her to Renouf,” Hugh hissed.
Antoine shook his head. “We are on shifting sands and had better hope Jubert finds something to support our cause. I’m obliged to stay here. Don’t do anything to draw William’s ire further en route to Le Mans. Our family honor is at stake.”
Sybilla
Antoine considered the fortification at Gran
deguay ugly. The oval shaped construction consisted of stone walls ten feet thick and ditches thirty feet wide. It had been built alongside a small chateau, completely ruining the charm of the older building.
After a two-day siege, Antoine’s forces overcame the soldiers defending the walls and were poised to swarm into the keep. Without warning, smoke billowed from seemingly everywhere.
“They have fired the building rather than allow us to take it,” one of the Belisle knights shouted.
Sword drawn, Antoine paused in his headlong rush to lead the attack. He had no wish to put his men in the path of a raging inferno. He raised his sword high. “Hold your advance. A fire will kill more of them than of us.”
Flames licked greedily at the smoke. If they did nothing, the fortress and the chateau might take months to rebuild. Grandeguay protected a strategic ford of the river and William would be displeased if it were lost. There was no choice but to save it.
Antoine decided to concentrate efforts on the fortress. He organized his men into two parties—one an attacking vanguard force, the other a fire brigade. “Find anything you can to transport water from the river,” he ordered the knight he placed in charge of the latter group. “We will take the fortress, but will depend on you to get the fire out before it takes hold.”
As he spoke, the men-at-arms were forming a human chain to pass the water from the river.
Antoine and the men under his command swarmed into the bailey and then into the keep. Smoke hung in the hallways, but it was not thick. They made their way to the Great Hall, where they encountered Denis de Sancerre and a few of his remaining men, apparently ready to make a last stand.
Antoine saw for the first time that his opponent was an elderly man.
The source of the smoke, thicker here, seemed to be close to the hall. The enemy had set fire to the kitchens.
The first members of the water brigade lumbered in close on Antoine’s heels, laden with overfilled buckets. He directed them to the kitchens, all the while keeping his eyes on Sancerre.
Defiance (The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition Book 2) Page 13
