She was weeping.
His heart sank.
“I am sorry,” he said as he quickly went to her. “They did not mean to upset you.”
Eiselle was trying very hard not to sob, but the entire event had her shaken. “They… they tried to tear my dress,” she said, her throat tight. “This is such a beautiful dress. It belonged to Lady de Winter’s sister. She died young and Lady de Winter gave it to me. And they tried to tear it.”
Bric was starting to feel just as bad as he possibly could. With a heavy sigh, he put his hand on her arm, pulling her gently towards the bed.
“I am sorry, Eiselle, truly,” he murmured. “They did not know that. And I know my men; they were not trying to be cruel. They simply did not… think.”
She sobbed softly, wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, as he set her carefully on the bed. But she nodded her head, as if to accept his apology, and he took a knee beside her, feeling greatly saddened that she’d been so upset by his thoughtless, careless men. He touched the hem of her gown.
“It does not look damaged at all,” he said, his voice soft and low. “It does not look like they tore the gown, but I shall give it to Lady de Winter and she can look it over herself. If there is any damage, she will fix it, I promise. You needn’t be upset.”
Eiselle was still wiping at her eyes as she looked at him, noticing that his big face was close to hers. She found herself looking into his eyes, such an unusual and pale color. He had a strong jaw, a striking face, one that she found so very handsome.
There wasn’t anything about Bric MacRohan that she found unattractive, in any way, and the fact that he was trying to ease her fear and comfort her made him that much more attractive to her. Only a man of great feeling would be able to show such compassion to a woman’s silly fears. Given his reputation as a fearless and deadly warrior, she found that aspect of him rather astonishing.
It was a side of him she’d never seen before.
“If you say they did not mean harm, then I believe you,” she said, swallowing the last of her tears. “It is just that this dress means a good deal to Lady de Winter. I would be heartbroken if something happened to it.”
Bric was smiling at her, pleased to see that her tears were short-lived. “It is an old custom, you know,” he said. “A piece of the bride’s dress brings good fortune. They were simply seeking good fortune and you cannot blame them for that.”
She shook her head. “Nay, I cannot, but they can tear another dress,” she said, a smile flickering over her lips. “Just not this one.”
He nodded, reaching out to touch her cheek as he stood up. But in that gesture, he realized it was the first time he’d really made the attempt to touch her. It had been so instinctive that the awareness shocked him. Not only was he attracted to her, but it was manifesting itself in gestures he never knew he was capable of – he’d never touched a woman affectionately in his life, at least not with true warmth behind the gesture. Yet, with Eiselle, it had been innate.
As if he’d been doing it all of his life.
It would have been easy to lose himself in that moment, but the banging on the door was distracting him. He realized that he very much wanted to explore his new wife, and he was very curious about his feelings for her, but he couldn’t concentrate on any of that with all of the noise going on.
And, God help him, consummating the marriage with all of that upheaval going on was going to be hellish. He’d never bedded a woman he was deeply attracted to and, for the first time in his life, he wanted to figure out what, exactly, he was feeling. Most of all, they needed privacy.
“It was a mistake to come here,” he finally said.
Eiselle stood up from the bed, concerned. “Why do you say that?” she said, looking at the bed itself. “Whose chamber is this?”
“Mine,” he said. “But, as you can hear, we shall have no peace if we remain here. I did not think on that until now. We would do better up in your chamber. Shall we make a run for it?”
Eiselle could see the glitter of humor in his eye and she grinned. “Will you keep them away from my dress?”
He laughed softly. “My lady, I will beat them off, I swear it. How fast can you run?”
“Faster than you can.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “A boast, I see,” he said, as if both pleased and skeptical. “We shall soon find out if it is true.”
Taking her by the arm, he pulled her over to the door. She was in much better spirits now, and so was he. A quiet chamber awaited them; they simply had to get to it.
“I will open the door and push men out of the way,” he said. “Tuck in behind me and when the crowd clears, run for your chamber.”
“And you will follow?”
A smile spread across his full lips. “My lady,” he said softly, “I will follow you anywhere.”
The giddy feeling in Eiselle’s chest told her that she believed him, implicitly. He had hold of her as he put his hand on the door.
“Ready?” he asked her.
She nodded firmly. “Ready.”
With a wink, he put himself in front of her as he unbolted the door and threw it open. Just as he’d said, a great cheer rose up and he charged out with Eiselle behind him, holding on to his waist. She had her head down, feeling the concussions against his body as he slammed into men, trying to clear a path. Finally, he stepped aside and thrust her forward.
“Go,” he commanded quickly. “Run for the stairs!”
Eiselle did. With a yelp, perhaps one of fear and excitement, she began to run, pushing through men who were caught off guard by her swift move. One or two of them reached out, trying to grab her, but she slapped their hands away. Suddenly, she was free of the crowd as she raced for the spiral stairs that led to the upper floor, and she didn’t stop or look behind her until she reached her borrowed chamber. Only then did she dare to look back as she rushed through the door and bolted it.
Giggling, and breathing heavily with exertion, she stood by the door nervously, waiting for Bric to come. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long. He was soon pounding on the door and she opened it, admitting him, before slamming it behind him and throwing the big iron bolt. When he finally came to a halt after the mad dash to the chamber, they looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“A maneuver well-executed, Lady MacRohan,” he said. “You are, indeed, quite fast.”
Eiselle giggled, still winded from the excitement. “It was fear that brought about my speed,” she said. “I did not want to chance having my dress ripped from me by fortune-seekers.”
He was still laughing, still smiling, and it took him a moment to realize he probably hadn’t laughed or smiled that much in a very long time. In his profession, that wasn’t a common occurrence. But with Eiselle, it was becoming the norm. Something about her made him feel light of heart. In fact, the entire day left him feeling light of heart.
Happy.
Of everything he thought his wedding would be, happy was not among them.
“Your dress is intact, my lady,” he said. “And I did not have the opportunity to tell you how beautiful you look in it. When I saw you come into the hall for the ceremony, you took my breath away.”
She smiled modestly. “Thank you,” she said. “May… may I tell you something?”
“Please do.”
“I realize that we do not know each other very well, but it seems odd for you to address me so formally. You have my permission to call me Eiselle, should you wish to.”
His expression softened, as if he was genuinely touched by her words. “I should like to, very much,” he said. “I think I shall call you Lady MacRohan, too, from time to time, because I like the way it sounds. It tells every man that you belong to me, and certainly that is something I never thought I would say, but I am proud of it.”
Given their earlier conversations, Eiselle knew that was probably a difficult admission for him. “I hope that I shall always honor you, my lord,” he said. “I shall
always endeavor to try.”
He held up a finger. “If I am to call you Eiselle, then you must call me Bric,” he said. “I do not require such formality from my own wife.”
She laughed softly. “Bric,” she repeated. “It is a very nice name.”
“It does not mean what you think it means; that is to say, it does not mean that I am a brick to be stacked with mortar. In Gaelic, it means a bridge, something strong and enduring, for all men to admire.”
Her smile remained. “I like that a great deal,” she said. “It is a very nice name. Are you an only son, then?”
He shook his head. “Nay. I have two brothers, Brendan and Ryan.”
“Are they knights, too?”
“They fight and live in Ireland.”
She cocked her head in thought. “Do you miss Ireland, Bric?”
He liked hearing her use his name. It was the first time she’d ever used it, and he found it very pleasant to hear it in her sweet voice. Turning to the hearth where the fire was dying, he knelt down and picked up more wood from the box.
“I used to,” he admitted. “You already know that Keeva is my cousin. When she married de Winter, I came as part of her dowry. Daveigh gained Irish lands through Keeva, so I was the exchange – I was to come to England with her and swear fealty to de Winter, thereby swearing fealty to him on behalf of all of his Irish lands. I really had no choice in the matter.”
It was true that Eiselle knew he was Keeva’s cousin, but she hadn’t known the circumstances of his service in England. She watched him as he put more wood on the fire and stoked it.
“But why you?” she asked. “Why not one of your brothers?”
“Because I was the greatest.”
Eiselle couldn’t argue with that. “Then I am glad it was you,” she said. “Otherwise, I would have never found a husband.”
He looked at her as if she were mad, but then he ended up breaking down into soft snorts of laughter. “I suspect that is not true,” he said. “You would have found one, eventually, but I am glad the one you did find was me, thanks to your cousin. Instead of wringing his neck the next time I see him, I do believe I shall thank him.”
Eiselle smiled at him and, for a moment, they simply looked at each other, drinking in the sight of one another and absorbing the situation. They were married now and on this night, certain things were expected of them. Eiselle knew that. Averting her gaze, she moved over to the neat stacks of trunks against the wall and opened up one of the smaller cases. She pulled forth something, something Bric couldn’t really see until she came close and held it out to him.
It was a sash of some kind, made from dark brown wool and embroidered from end to end with very beautiful patterns that looked like shields. As he peered at it, she spoke.
“I made this for you,” she said. “It is a belt for your tunic. I did not know what to give to you on the event of our wedding, so I made this. If you do not like it, I can make you something else. But I wanted to give you a gift and this was all I could think to do.”
Bric stared at it. Then, he reached out and took it from her hands, inspecting the detailed quality of it. After a moment, he simply shook his head, awed.
“It is astonishing,” he said in a tone she’d never heard before. “I have never had anyone make anything for me, at least not like this. Thank you, Eiselle. It is beautiful.”
“Then you like it?”
“I have never had a finer gift,” he said. “I shall carry it with me, always. But that brings me to a very embarrassing admission.”
“What?”
He looked at her as if afraid to tell her. “I did not get you anything,” he said. “I have not had the time and… nay, that is not entirely true. I told you I was resistant to this marriage and the thought of giving you a gift on our wedding day… I could not bring myself to do it. It was going to be my statement to you of how unhappy I was with this arrangement. Now, I am deeply ashamed that I was so cruel about it. I pray you are not too angry with me.”
Smiling faintly, Eiselle shook her head. “We have a pact, you and I,” she said. “All we ask is honesty between one another. You have been honest with me about your feelings and I cannot become angry with you about it. But… but I do hope you shall change your mind. I will do all I can to ensure that you do.”
Bric was feeling terrible about the fact that he had no gift for her. He was feeling about as cruel and nasty as he possibly could, so very cruel to this beautiful and delicate creature who only wanted to please him.
“You have changed my mind,” he said quietly. “I told you I was no longer resistant to our marriage, and I meant it. I will make you this promise – I will purchase a gift for you, something wonderful and lovely and deserving of you. It will be the best gift you have ever received.”
She smiled bashfully. “That is not necessary,” she said. “I did not give you the gift so that you would have to reciprocate. I gave it to you because I wanted to.”
“You gave it to a man who did not deserve it.”
She looked at him, seeing that he was being very hard on himself. A thought occurred to her.
“There is something you can give me,” she said.
“Tell me what it is and I shall get it for you, no matter what the cost.”
She shook her head. “It costs nothing and you can give it to me right now.”
His brow furrowed. “What is this mysterious thing?”
Eiselle felt rather bold with what she was about to say, but something in her wanted very much to say it. He was her husband, after all. Perhaps he wouldn’t think she was being too bold.
“Since we’ve met, all has been quite formal between us, as it should be,” she said. “Now, we are expected to… to know each other as a husband would know a wife. We’ve really not even had a chance to know each other more than just a day, and in that time, as I said, all has been quite formal. If you should like to give me a gift, then mayhap… mayhap you can give me a kiss, as a husband would kiss his new wife. It costs nothing and it would mean a great deal.”
Bric couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. It was, perhaps, one of the better suggestions he’d heard and without a word, he went to her. But he didn’t touch her right away. He just stood there, his body up against hers, gazing down into that perfectly angelic face. He’d kissed women before, but never a woman he’d been attracted to. He was ashamed to admit that any physical interaction with women had been with the kind one usually paid when the physicality was finished.
As a man, he had needs, and it was safer to pay for those needs to be taken care of. He’d never wanted any kind of an attachment, and women who accepted money for their services were his preference. No attachment, no emotion. That was how Bric MacRohan had always lived his life when it came to women.
Until now.
Now, he couldn’t resist this beautiful woman in front of him, a woman who was now his wife. She belonged to him and he could do anything he wanted to her, and she would forever and always belong only to him. Aye, he was going to kiss her, just as she’d asked.
But he was going to do more than that, too.
Putting his arms around her, Bric pulled Eiselle against his hard chest, acquainting himself with the feel of her. She was soft and warm. Dipping his head down, he kissed her forehead, and her cheek. The fragrances of roses met his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. But that sweet scent was to be his undoing; it was lush and alluring. His embrace tightened and he buried his face against Eiselle’s fragrant neck.
Eiselle gripped Bric’s shoulders as his mouth moved down her neck, roving over the soft flesh. She was somewhat in shock at his bold actions. Certainly, she’d asked for a kiss, but this wasn’t what she had expected. She had been moderately nervous for his kiss, praying her stomach would behave, but that nervousness had vanished. In fact, her momentary shock at his bold action evaporated as her heart began to pound so forcefully that she was positive it was about to burst from her chest.
Bric’s t
ongue, hot and lusty, lapped at the flesh of her shoulder as his fingers pulled aside that beautiful dress. Eiselle could feel his hot breath on her skin, like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She didn’t even know such a sensation existed.
She could hardly breathe.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, sending sparks up the chimney as Bric abruptly swept Eiselle into his arms and deposited her upon her bed. He gently kissed her face, moving to her chin and neck as his fingers went to work on the ties of her gown. Unfortunately, the ties were tight, and didn’t come away easily. Bric had to work at it. He managed to get the ones on the left side undone, rolling her onto her left side so he could kiss the exposed flesh. Eiselle groaned softly with awakening pleasure, realizing that she liked this very much. The man’s touch lit a fire in her, and she wanted more.
Rolling her onto her back once more, Bric removed the gown slowly, running his tongue over every delectable portion of exposed flesh. Eiselle stared up at the ceiling as the surcoat came off her shoulders, her arms, baring her breasts against the weak light of the chamber. She should have been embarrassed at her nudity, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t embarrassed in the least, not even when he pulled the surcoat over her hips and slid it the length of her legs.
Is this what it means to have a husband? Eiselle thought as she wallowed in the boneless, lethargic state of her mounting desire. If this was what being married meant, then she was willing to embrace it completely. If Bric could make her feel like this, with her heart racing and her breathing coming in unsteady gasps, then she would happily let the man do whatever he wanted to her, forever and ever.
She was more than willing to let him claim her.
As Eiselle found herself consumed by her first sexual encounter, Bric was having a difficult time pacing himself. Every touch, every kiss, had him wanting to ram his body into hers until he was satisfied. But he couldn’t do that. He wanted to go slowly with Eiselle because, for the first time in his life, he was building something with a woman and the only way he could think to do that was to be slow and gentle with her. So far, it was working. But the sight of her nude breasts by the firelight very nearly undid him.
Brides of Ireland: A Medieval Historical Romance Bundle Page 10