When she murmured a request for a few moments of privacy, he let go of her and watched as she walked away, towards the solar. Her cousin Petronilla followed behind, so Simon turned back to the table and sought his chair…and a reviving drink. It did not surprise him when his friends, ignoring all protocol and outraged glances, sat down around him, separating him from the others at table.
“’Twould seem Giles had the right of it, then?” asked Brice.
“Is she settling under your touch, Simon?” Soren asked. “Like your horse?”
Though Soren and Brice laughed then, raised their cups to him and drank deeply at the jest, Giles simply shook, then hung his head.
“I did not mean to tell them, Simon.”
“It matters not now,” he answered, waving their concerns off. He did not wish to discuss this personal matter with anyone right now, for he needed a few minutes to let his body and his lust cool.
“Did not the dance and her ease in your embrace erase your worries? You did not tumble over her and step on her feet. She seemed accepting of your affections. Surely good signs for the rest of it?” Soren asked.
“Truly, Simon, I do not understand why you worry so,” Brice said as he glared at an approaching servant, warning him away. “Does not your marriage save her family and give her brother expectations lost by their father? Do you not honor her by making arrangements for her mother and for her own dower property?”
Giles had been silently watching the exchange, but had not offered a comment of his own since the first. Simon looked at him, eyebrows raised, waiting, for he knew one would come.
“The only problem I see for you is that night’s fall is still three hours or so away. I suspect if you continue to ‘settle her to your touch’, you will end up between her legs against a wall in some darkened alcove or corner.”
“Giles…” Simon warned with a growl. It was too damned close to the truth of it to speak of. “Enough.”
“Ah! Here comes the lady now,” Soren said, loud enough to interrupt any further discussion of her. He stood, as did Brice and Giles, stepping away from the table and allowing Elise to sit next to her husband.
“Are you well?” Simon asked, sliding his hand once more to her back, and then resting it lower. Other than a lovely blush, she appeared just so, for he was trying to notice her comfort this day.
“I am, my lord,” Elise said, feeling the light pressure of his hand on her back. As he slipped his fingers beneath her hair, they tickled her neck and sent tiny ripples down her spine. Just as in the dance, her body became a thing of its own, reacting and responding when her mind and her thoughts did not do so quickly enough.
Everything he did now seemed to involve touching her, she realized as he let his hand remain on her back, though he slid it down to rest beneath the jeweled belt she wore. Having anyone touch her, let alone having a man do so, was not something she was familiar with, and his touch aroused some stirring with her. From the gleam in his gaze when she met it, she thought it might be done a purpose.
She would like to ask him about it, but the presence of his men, his Bastard Knights, deterred her. Elise knew of them—Petra has spoken of little else on their arrival here—but these three men were of illegitimate birth and fostered against custom by the old lord, then befriended by the new one. Such men as these were not men she would ever deign to speak to in public, or even out of view, but it was clear to her and everyone in attendance that they held some special place here in Lord Simon’s household and presence. As though knowing the subject of her thoughts, Lord Simon spoke of them.
“Lady, though ’tis not the usual manner of things, I wish to make these three known to you. Giles Fitzhenry—” Lord Simon pointed to the farthest man who bowed to her “—Brice Fitzwilliam there and Soren Fitzrobert here—” he slapped the nearest one “—are all sworn in my service and now in yours.”
Surprised at how polite they were, Elise looked from one to the next as they bowed to her. Truly, from the rumors and stories she’d heard, she half expected them to leer openly at her or behave somewhat rudely. Instead, she could not miss their open affection and loyalty towards her husband and their apparent acceptance of her. Noticing their appearances now, their blatant manly appeal, she wondered how many women living or visiting this keep had not shared their beds at one time or another. These four were the kind of men that women whispered about and dreamed about and prayed for in their most secret conversations and moments.
They could, and probably did, have nearly any woman they chose in their beds for pleasures of the flesh and…
And she was now married to one of them!
Clearing her throat, she looked from one man to the next, taking note that the four were as different as any could be in appearance, but warriors one and all, with tall, muscular bodies, well able to do battle with any number of fierce opponents and well practiced from the look of them. Their coloring, with Simon’s dark brown hair and green eyes, Giles’ paler hair and blue eyes, Brice’s blond hair and brown ones, and the giant called Soren had black hair and silver-gray eyes, this in spite of his name that usually spoke of reddish coloring, proclaimed their differences. But had she not known them, the three of them, to be by-blows and not of noble birth, she would have assumed by their height and bearing and manners to be so.
Elise heard a familiar cough and glanced over to where her mother sat. Her disapproving stare told her what was expected of a noble-born woman, and that was to shun such men as these. The expression in Lord Simon’s eyes said otherwise. These men were important to him; he called them friends as well as vassals sworn to him. Though not certain of what their future dealings would be, Elise decided she must honor her husband’s desires in this, for clearly if this was not important to him, he would never have introduced them so.
“Sirs,” she said with a smile, “I am honored by your service and friendship to my lord husband and that you extend that to me now. Pray—” she held out her hand and motioned to the empty seats near them “—sit and be welcome at Lord Simon’s table.”
It was bold, something far bolder than even her intimate touch earlier, for this was something public, something witnessed by one and all at the feast, something that would set forth a practice for their lives together. Welcoming those who should, by birth, be seated at far lower tables than the lord’s opened her to gossip and possible scorn, unless her husband supported such a gesture. If she’d thought for a moment that he would not, she was proven wrong quickly.
His friends, clearly uncertain whether to accept her invitation or to leave the dais as they should, waited for Lord Simon’s sign. Simon rose, releasing her from his loose embrace, and smiled at the men.
“You heard my ladywife’s words, join us at table,” he said, raising his voice loud enough so that everyone in the hall heard.
Lord Simon took his seat once more, this time not resting his hand on her back. Though disappointed somehow at this lack, she did not have more than a moment or two to feel that, for Lord Simon made up for it quickly by placing his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. Before she could react, he again brought his mouth to hers and kissed her…and then once more. Though quick kisses, they promised much more, later in private. And when she thought he would release her, instead he turned and whispered in her ear so that none would hear.
“You have pleased me in this, Elise.”
His hot breath tickled her ear and made the skin on her neck tingle. She shivered and he held her closer still.
“For making them welcome, I will grant you anything you wish.”
Already unable to breathe at the intimate gesture and the heat of his mouth so close, she gasped when he touched his tongue to the edge of her ear and then again when he kissed the place just below there. Her body pulsed once more with the excitement that such caresses and touches caused within her. For something so new to her, her body seemed to be recognizing and enjoying every moment of it.
“I but serve your needs, my lord, as
any good wife would see to her husband’s,” she whispered back, noticing that Lord Simon’s body shuddered then too, at her words.
She thought that he might steal another kiss, but he loosened his grasp and allowed her to sit back in her chair. If she thought this meant not touching her, she found she was mistaken, for he took her hand in his and rested them on her leg. Elise tried hard to concentrate now on the words flying around her, but as her husband released her hand and continued to caress her leg under the table, doing anything but feeling his touch became impossible for her.
Even through the layers of clothing—the chemise, the gown, the tunic and the stockings she wore—she felt as though he touched her bare skin with his fingers. He slid his hand along the top of her thigh, from knee to mid-thigh and then just a little higher, closer and closer to that private place between her legs.
Sensation warred with sense within her then and, though she thought she should demur and not allow such things outside their bedchamber, the heat and the tiny shivers that pulsed through her were pleasant. It was invigorating, even as she felt so much for the first time. Trying to look at each of her husband’s friends as they spoke to each other and to him, she felt she was quickly losing the battle, concentrating only on what her husband was making her feel.
Did he know? Did he know how her body ached for something more? Was this what consummation would be like? Would something that intimate make her feel this way? Could there be more to this than simply joining and allowing her husband to release his seed deep inside her? Losing the battle completely, she leaned against him, aching for more and mortified that he could cause such recklessness in her.
He stilled then, whether because her behavior was so wanton that he was shocked or for some other reason, she knew not. He began to lift his hand from her leg, but when she clutched it, instead he grazed the top of her leg and her belly sending shudders through her whole body. Elise gritted her teeth then against such pleasure.
Suddenly those at table were silent; she dreaded meeting their gazes, for surely, those more experienced in such matters knew what was happening there. Keeping her eyes lowered, she took in and released a deep breath, hoping that she would gain some measure of control over the wayward and lustful urges in her.
When her husband’s friends began to whisper amongst themselves, she did look up. They exchanged a few more words, but a look and a glance and a shrug were all she could see before her husband stood. If she thought what she had done in publicly accepting her husband’s friends was scandalous, it did not come close to what her husband did next.
“My lords, ladies, good sirs and madams,” he called out. “I find that my ladywife and I have need of some privacy.” She blushed at some of the bawdy suggestions called out to them, but he continued, “Pray all of you remain and enjoy my hospitality. We will rejoin you…anon.”
A mixture of fear and anticipation and excitement of the physical kind filled her then, making her want to laugh and cry at the same time. Before she could do either, Lord Simon pulled her to her feet and then lifted her in his arms. Throwing her arm around his neck to keep from falling, she leaned her head against his chest.
“I can wait no longer, Elise. I would make you mine now,” he growled as he carried her down from the dais and towards the tower where his bedchamber was. “My back!” he called out to his friends who laughed aloud at his actions.
Chapter Five
Elise dared to peek over his shoulder then and found that many of the guests raced behind them, most likely intending to make merry on the way to the bedding and to witness what they could. Lord Simon’s Bastards put a stop to that quickly, forming a wall behind them in the stairway that led to their chamber. As Lord Simon climbed the steps, carrying her towards her first true test of her ability to please him and protect her family, she could hear the shouted protests of those stymied by his friends.
“I wish no witnesses to our bedding, Elise. What happens between us is not for anyone else to see,” he said as he swiftly reached the top floor and pushed open the door to their bedchamber with his foot. Once inside, he leaned against the door and waited for the latch to catch.
Elise worried then, for witnesses could prove the validity of a claim of consummation if questions were raised. If no one examined them for defects and saw them put to bed, there would be no one to speak on her behalf. He did not give her time to ask such questions; instead he carried her to the center of the room and put her on her feet. Shaking out her tunic and gown, she pushed her hair back from her face as she looked around his—their—chambers for the first time.
Larger than even the ones she shared with her mother, this boasted of two smaller rooms connected to the sleeping chamber. Although she knew he used his steward’s room on the lower floor of the keep for his records and the official business of managing his lands here in Brittany as well as those in Normandy, the table—covered by various rolls of parchments and quill jars for ink—informed her that her husband also worked here in his chambers.
Turning around, she realized that the other smaller room contained trunks—hers was now placed next to his larger ones—as well as a table with a pitcher and bowl, and a chamber pot beneath it. The sight of her favorite bed robe there pleased her. Lord Simon had walked across the chamber and now returned with a goblet of wine for her. Trying to shake off any fear of what was to come, she thought on Petra’s advice, scandalous as it was, and waited to see what he would do first.
Simon watched as a myriad of emotions crossed Elise’s fair face—first, blatant curiosity, followed by recognition, and then fear. He hated seeing it and he pulled himself back under control, wanting to see her eyes darken with passion instead. Now that they were alone, Simon swore to take his time with her, for this one night would influence the course of their married life. He’d hastened this moment because he feared that his escalating lust would overwhelm him. Pushing his hair out of his face, he thought on how to ease the tension between them.
Giles’ words came to mind once more.
After they each drank some of the wine, Simon lifted the cup from her hands and put it back on the table. Turning back to face her, he realized that all his steps taken so far were in danger of being lost. So, he grasped her by her shoulders and drew her near, pausing when she was close enough to kiss. His blood raged through his veins when she tilted her head back and offered herself to him. Touching his lips to hers, he tilted his own head and pressed more fully against her mouth, sliding his tongue inside when she allowed him.
Pleased by such trust, Simon moved on in his relentless campaign to woo his wife. Soon, kisses were not enough and he could feel her body trembling next to his. More than anything, he wanted to rid her of her clothing, to touch and taste her skin and feel her naked next to him. Lifting his head, he smiled at the dazed expression on her beautiful face and in those pale blue eyes.
“May I play maid for you, my lady?” he asked softly, knowing that someone must loosen the laces of Elise’s gown and tunic for him to touch her skin. Either loosen them or cut them, though he was certain that she wanted to keep this gown in one piece, since it was a gift from the duke on their marriage.
With a nod of her head in agreement, she turned around, presenting her back to him. Simon took his time, examining her shapely form before he took a step closer and slid an arm around her. Held so close, he could feel her firm bottom against him. He could smell the flowers in her hair and he could, if he chose to, slide his hand down to explore the curves of her breasts, the flatness of her stomach or the place between her legs. Unable to control his wayward cock, he surged against her in that moment and felt the pleasure of being against her body.
Elise stood still, her mother’s instructions running continuously through her mind: lie still, allow him his way, acquiesce in all things, do not refuse him anything, a husband’s right, be still, be quiet…acquiesce.
When she felt his manhood hard against her bottom and felt his breath against her neck, it was diff
icult to remain quiet and still. Her body screamed for more…more of something that seemed to tease her even as his arm rested across her chest holding her there. Her legs shook and the place between them wept with moisture. How could any woman remain still while such feelings rioted through her?
Lord Simon released her then and she nearly fell, saved only when he encircled her with both arms to unbuckle the jeweled belt that laid low on her hips. He tossed it on the bed and then he gathered her hair up in his hands and gently placed it all over one shoulder. He seemed fascinated by the length of it and by its scent. Thankfully, she’d used the rose-scented soap on it, for he appeared to like that. Then he began to unlace her dress, something no man had ever done, and it felt both scandalous and exciting to allow it. Her breasts swelled against the movements of the gown and her nipples tightened and grew very sensitive.
Allow him anything…acquiesce.
Elise let her head fall forward as his strong fingers tugged and pulled the laces on the back of the gown she wore. Soon, it was loosened enough to remove and she lifted her arms as he pulled the gown up and over her head. Her hair tumbled over both of them and his body shuddered behind hers. Standing before him in only her linen undergown, Elise felt exposed and naked, for the fine material hid nothing from view.
When she thought he would unlace the undergown, he did not. Instead, he pulled her against him once more and touched her. Not only with his hands, but also his mouth. He kissed the back of her neck, and his manhood pressed against her bottom. Every place on her body seemed his target—his hands sliding down over her breasts, cupping them and squeezing them before moving over her stomach and touching—finally, touching—the place between her legs where it ached so. Even through her gown, she felt the wondrous pleasure as he rubbed over her mons and tickled the hair that guarded the entrance to her core.
A Night for Her Pleasure Page 3
