She put her fingertips on his lips, and he was immediately aroused, but dreaded what she might say next. He took her hand from his lips and pressed it to his heart. “I will understand if you cannot love me. It will break my heart, but I will understand.”
Devona looked startled. “Not love you? Godemite, Hugh—you make me want to swear like a peasant. Of course I love you. I’m consumed with love for you.”
Hugh lunged and kissed her fiercely, his heart beating too fast. She opened her mouth and twirled her tongue around his. When they broke apart, he feathered kisses along her chin. “Let’s get you out of this nun’s habit. I want to kiss you—all over.”
All Is Well
As soon as Antoine and Sybilla reached their chambers, Oda came to her feet, her features tight with worry.
Sybilla took Denis from her maidservant’s arms. “All is well.”
She chuckled when even her babe smiled a crooked little smile. “We discovered Renouf de Maubadon already had a wife before he met Devona Melton. He has four children.”
Oda’s mouth fell open. “No doubt soon-to-be-fatherless children.”
Antoine nodded grimly, watching Sybilla preparing to nurse Denis. “Oui, King William was less than pleased with him. He has been taken to execution.”
Sybilla kissed Denis. “And Hugh and Devona have been freed.”
Oda clasped her hands to her bosom in an uncharacteristic gesture. “So they will soon be wed? Another Montbryce will marry his soul mate.”
Antoine and Sybilla both looked at the woman, then at each other. His wife was blushing. Could it be? No one knew Sybilla better than Oda, who had raised her since birth. What was the feisty maid trying to tell him?
He cleared his throat. “Oui, Ram is arranging the marriage as we speak.”
For several long minutes he watched his wife suckle her child, wondering if he would ever get to put his mouth on those dark nipples. He might go mad if this went on much longer. Suddenly, he remembered his conversation with Ram and Hugh. Could it be true that Sybilla had not loved her husband and had feelings for him?
He sauntered over and knelt on one knee beside her chair to gently caress the baby’s head. “Sybilla.”
She turned her mismatched eyes on him and his arousal intensified. “I thank you from the depths of my being for what you did today for my brother. I am in your debt.”
Sybilla opened her mouth to respond, but he continued. “I need to ask you a question—about your babe’s father.”
She looked wary. “About Sancerre?”
He came to his feet, unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not. He paced for a while and then glanced at Oda who sat quietly in the corner, nodding. He came back to Sybilla and hunkered down beside her. “Did you love him?”
The maid snorted.
Sybilla shot her a reproving glare, and shifted the child to the other breast. “I won’t dishonor the father of my child, but you are my husband now, Antoine, and I cannot lie to you. Not only did I not love Denis, I didn’t like him. He was a cantankerous old man.”
Crouched like a cat, Antoine wanted to leap up and pounce on her. Hope rose in his breast. He reached to touch Sybilla’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “I will try not to be a cantankerous husband.”
Sybilla thrust her head back and laughed so loudly, it took him unawares and he lost his balance. He had never seen her laugh before and it sent heat rushing through his veins. This stunningly beautiful redhead was his wife. Sprawled on his backside, he blurted out his feelings. “I’m in love with you, Sybilla.”
Apparently sensing his mother’s agitation, Denis started to cry and fuss. Oda rushed over and took hold of him. “Come with me, young man. You’ve feasted enough. Let’s leave your maman and papa alone.”
She whisked him off to the antechamber as Antoine got to his feet, thinking he liked the sound of the word Papa. “I will be a good father to him.”
Sybilla touched Antoine’s head. “I know you will, my dark, handsome knight.”
She twirled her fingers through his short hair. Tears welled in her eyes.
He came to his knees. “Don’t cry. I know there are many reasons why you cannot love me, Sybilla—”
She pulled his hair.
“Ouch!”
“Not love you? I’ve longed to hear you tell me that you loved me, but I was afraid you’d married me to save your brother.”
“And I was afraid you married me to save your son. Is it possible you might love me someday?”
As he spoke, Antoine became aware that he was staring at her breasts spilling over the opened front of her gown and chemise.
Sybilla smiled at him, and in her eyes he saw the need of a woman in love. He grinned. “You do love me, don’t you?”
She took his hands and placed them on her breasts. “I do.”
It was as if he had never touched a woman’s breasts before. With great reverence he slid his hands to the underside of Sybilla’s heavy globes and lifted them free of the fabric. He grazed his thumbs against the engorged nipples. His wife groaned. He wanted to lick and suckle, but was it too soon? Would she be repulsed?
She had fallen back in the chair, her eyes glazed. “Kiss me.”
Now he had a dilemma. If he was not careful he would spill his seed in his hose—not the first impression of his manhood he wanted to convey. He took a deep breath. “If I place my lips to your breast, I fear my shaft will be unable to control itself.”
She opened her eyes, glanced at his groin and smiled. “It doesn’t have to.”
He leaned forward and gently kissed each nipple in turn.
She writhed in the chair. “Mon Dieu, husband, you cause needs to rise in me that I’ve never felt before.”
Antoine exulted. “I would alleviate those needs, but after the babe, are you yet able?”
“I’m able—willing and able.”
Gently, he drew her up from the chair and pulled her to his body. She ground her womanhood against his swollen phallus. He smiled. “We must go slowly, for your first time. I have the perfect method. Come.”
Hugh and Devona lay skin to skin on their wedding night. “You know I’m not an expert with women.”
Devona played with his earlobe. “Hugh, your lovemaking is the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t need you to be an expert. We will learn together how to please each other. You’ve only to look at me and I’m aroused.”
Hugh brought his mouth to hers and she opened for him, her body tingling with renewed need.
He licked her ear. “I want you again. You make me insatiable. Do you want to try something else? It’s a way of making love that Antoine—”
She smiled, feeling her face redden. “You asked Antoine?”
He laughed. “Brothers tell each other things. Remember, I mentioned it once before? He says it takes some practice, but is worth it, especially for the woman, and I want you to have as much pleasure as I can give you.”
He turned Devona onto her back and spread her legs gently. It amazed her that she felt no embarrassment as this handsome man’s beautiful blue eyes gazed at her most intimate places.
“Bend your knees, my love.”
Using his arms to support his upper body he entered her slowly, keeping his legs together. “You are warm and wet.”
The urge was to thrust against him, but he whispered, “Non, keep still, as still as you can.”
He lowered all his weight on her, then cupped her shoulders. He pulled his body up along hers, nestling his face against her neck. The head of his manhood remained inside her, but now his shaft lay against her quivering bud.
She gasped his name as exquisite sensations coursed through her.
“Wrap your ankles around my calves.”
The warmth of his breath tickled her ear and a shiver of molten heat surged from her neck all the way to her toes.
“Rock your hips away from me, just a bit, so I stay inside you, but my shaft will pleasure your secret woman�
��s place.”
A moan of delight escaped her lips as Hugh’s manhood stroked her. Then he moved his body lower and entered her fully again.
“Rock once more,” he rasped.
It took a few attempts to get the rhythm right but then they found it. He moved his hips up as she tipped down and then down as she tilted up.
“Antoine says the secret is to go slowly. Do you like it?”
“It’s sweet torture,” she murmured,
Soon the gentle rocking had her screaming out her fulfillment as Hugh’s seed rushed into her body.
Later, when she was once more capable of coherent thought, she admitted. “You must thank Antoine, but don’t tell him I said so.”
He rolled away from her. “I take it you liked it, my lady wife?”
“It was wonderful. We barely moved and yet I’m exhausted.”
“Sleep, my beautiful Devona de Montbryce.”
He turned her onto her side and curled his body against her back.
“I feel so safe with you. I love you with all my heart.”
“I love you too. You’ll always be safe with me. You know, my brother Ram is fond of boasting that he’s a most unusual nobleman because he’s in love with his wife Mabelle. Now Antoine and I are smitten. I was right. It’s a family curse.”
Epilogue
Antoine was upset. “It’s ironic. Two pregnant women and I’m the only one retching into the sea.”
Sybilla wiped his brow. “You’re right, husband. This is the first time I haven’t felt nauseous in three months.”
Devona smiled. “Same for me.”
Hugh slapped him on the back, giving his shoulder a brotherly squeeze. “Not to worry, we’ll soon be ashore in England.”
“Your hand no longer trembles,” his brother remarked.
Hugh smiled at Devona. “Non, the tremor has gone.”
Antoine looked at Sybilla, already showing signs of carrying his babe. “The power of love. Isn’t it amazing?”
Hugh nodded and tightened his grip around Devona’s waist, putting his hand protectively on her belly. They stood in silence as the cliffs came into view. “I’m anxious to see East Preston,” Antoine enthused. “Barat assures me it’s in much better shape.”
Hugh laughed. “I hope so. You cannot take Sybilla and little Denis to a rat-infested ruin. If it’s not ready you can stay at Melton with us.”
He glanced over at Devona, seeking her agreement. She was close to tears as the men brought the longboat ashore on the south coast of England.
He lifted her down to the sand.
“I thought I’d never return to my homeland. It will be good to see my mother and sisters again. Although it’s only a month since they went home, I’ve missed them.”
Hugh put his arm around his wife’s waist. “Your grandfather will be waiting anxiously, not to mention Boden and Brigantia.”
Devona rested her head on her husband’s shoulder and watched as the horses were unloaded. When all was ready for the ride to Sussex, she turned to look at Antoine standing next to Hugh. Her brother-by-marriage had one arm draped protectively around his wife and in the other he held Denis. His cloak protected his family from the brisk sea breeze. She looked up at Hugh and her smile told him they were both thinking the same thing.
He pulled her closer. “I don’t think you’re the only Lady Montbryce who’ll be rocked to sleep this night.”
Devona’s face reddened as she turned to Sybilla with a broad smile. “Welcome to my homeland, sister.”
Redemption ~ Book III
Enjoy this excerpt from Caedmon’s story.
Edwinesburh, Scotland, 1087
Caedmon Brice Woolgar loved laughter.
Savoring the guffaws of friends already well into their cups, he gathered his long black hair into two bunches, and pulled back tightly. Sticking out his tongue and rolling his eyes, he continued his mockery. “They say William Rufus, the newly crowned King of the English, wears his blond hair parted in the centre, and off his face, which is always red, as if he’s angry. That’s why they call him Rufus.”
Edgar choked on his ale. “Don’t let the fair Aediva see you grimacing that way,” he teased. “She’ll no longer love you.”
Caedmon shrugged. “Aediva doesn’t love me, though she thinks she does.”
“And what of the beautiful Audrey, and the voluptuous Coventina—and the well-endowed—”
“Cease! Can I help it if these women lust after my handsome face?” Caedmon replied good-naturedly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after taking a long swig of dark ale.
“It’s not your bonny face they lust after, my brawny friend,” Leofric Deacon commented sardonically, bending his long arm to his head and looking cross-eyed at his own bulging bicep. “It’s those impressive muscles.”
“Aye!” was the jovial agreement, as tankards clinked together and laughter rang out.
“I hear Rufus is a dandy who dresses in the height of fashion, however outrageous,” Edgar Siward cooed, prancing foppishly around the crowded alehouse.
Relieved the jesting had turned back to Rufus, Caedmon carried on. “Rumor has it the new king’s eyes are threatening, his voice strident, as if he’s trying to intimidate. They say he’s a bully who takes offense easily.”
Leofric imitated the features Caedmon described, giving rise to further fits of laughter.
Despite their levity, they were all wondering if the son of the hated Conqueror would be as ruthlessly cruel as his recently departed father.
“The Normans have their problems with all William’s ambitious sons. Robert Curthose won’t be content to be the Duke of the Normans. He thirsts for Rufus’s throne,” Edgar opined. “Did you know that when they were boys, Rufus and his brother Henry once stood on a high balcony and dumped a full chamber pot on their brother Curthose’s head? Playing dice must have become boring.”
Expressions of disgust ensued.
“Perhaps, while they are busy trying to steal from each other, we can help our King Malcolm regain Northumbria?” Leofric suggested.
Caedmon slapped his friend on the back. “Pray you’re right. I too would like a piece of Northumbria to claim as my own.”
“As would any one of us,” Siward agreed. “It’s ironic all of us were born in this barbaric country they call Scotland, yet we’re outcasts, the sons of Saxons who fled England after the Battle of Hastings.”
“Aye, and most of us fatherless, our heroic sires dead at Hastings, or Dover, or any one of the innumerable merciless skirmishes with the brutal Normans,” Leofric lamented.
“And listen to us. ‘Aye,’ Leofric says, as if he’s a Scot,” Caedmon remarked. “We sound like Scots, though we’re Saxons. We’ve had to learn the tongue of the Gaels to survive at King Malcolm’s court. Aye, we sound like Scots, though any Scot knows we’re not.”
“At least we haven’t been forced to learn the hated Norman French,” Edgar offered.
Eivind Brede strode over from a nearby table and joined the conversation. “Here we are, landless and powerless, but looked upon by our exiled forebears as the hope of the future, the pride of our race. We burn to liberate a country many of us have never set foot in.”
Caedmon’s thoughts went to his Saxon mother. Lady Ascha Woolgar took great pride in him. He’d always admired her bravery at risking the flight to Scotland after the death of his father at Hastings—a pregnant woman, with no one but her brother for sustenance. Even after Gareth’s death, she’d prospered in Scotland and become a respected pillar of the exiled Saxon community. Lady Ascha made sure everyone acknowledged him as the son of a martyr of Hastings.
“I wish with all my heart I could restore my mother to her own country, the land of her birth,” he declared solemnly.
His friends nodded in silent agreement, and not a word was spoken for several minutes.
They all seethe with the same longing, an England ruled again by Anglo-Saxons.
“We’re getting too serious,”
he said finally. “We’ve sworn to help King Malcolm oust the Normans, at least from Northumbria. Let’s drink to that.”
He jumped up onto his seat. “King Malcolm Cenn Mór! Malcolm, the Great Chieftain,” he shouted, raising his tankard.
“Northumbria!” came the echo.
“Aye!”
About Anna
Thank you for reading Defiance. If you’d like to leave a review where you purchased the book, and/or on Goodreads, I would appreciate it. Reviews contribute greatly to an author’s success.
I’d love you to visit my website, www.annamarkland.com where you can sign up for my newsletter, and my Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels.
Tweet me @annamarkland, join me on Pinterest, or follow me on BookBub and be the first to know when my next book is released.
I was born and brought up in England, but I’ve lived most of my life in Canada. I was an elementary school teacher for 25 years, a job I loved. After that I worked with my husband in the management of his businesses. He’s a born entrepreneur who likes to boast he’s never had a job. My final “career” was as Director of Administration of a global disaster relief organization.
I then embarked on writing a romance, something I’d always wanted to do. I chose the medieval period because it’s my favorite to read. I have a keen interest in genealogy. This hobby has had a tremendous influence on my stories. My medieval romances are tales of family honor, ancestry, and roots. As an amateur genealogist, I cherished a dream of tracing my own English roots back to the Norman Conquest—most likely impossible since I am not descended from nobility. So I made up a family and my stories follow its members through successive generations.
I want readers to feel exhilarated when my heroes and heroines find their soul mates. For me, novels are an experience of another world and time. I lose myself in the characters’ lives, always knowing love will triumph in the end. One of the things I enjoy most about writing historical romance is the in-depth research necessary to provide readers with an authentic medieval experience. I love ferreting out tidbits of historical trivia. I hope you come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.
Defiance (The Montbryce Legacy Anniversary Edition Book 2) Page 20
