He gave her a patient smile, taking up her hand. “Just as I touched you moments ago and gave you so much pleasure, I want you to touch me. Remember, this is me, little one. I’m not the one who hurt you. Trust me.”
To her surprise, Tray guided her fingers across his hard, warm length. She felt him shudder as she tentatively stroked him, his swift intake of breath making her eyes fly open.
“Did I hurt you?”
Tray tried to speak and couldn’t for several seconds. “No, beloved, you make me feel good when you do that. Just as I made you feel good.”
He allowed her to explore him, lying on his back so that she could examine him visually and physically as she chose. Her fingers were delicate as she ran her hands across his nipples. He clenched his teeth, willing his body to rein its desire. Slowly, ever so slowly, her hands gained confidence. The shyness was still there, but he saw the fascination in her eyes, as well. Tray smiled to himself. His Alyssa was as hot-blooded as a spirited Arabian. After a while, he reached out, sliding his hand between her thighs, watching her face suffuse with drowsy pleasure as he stroked her swelling, moist core. Tray gently eased her back as she began to tremble with very real need of him.
She breathed in short, sharp breaths, that familiar fire uncoiling from her lower body. She was totally unaware that he had removed his stroking, caressing hand until she felt a filling sensation, as if she were gradually welcoming Tray into her confines. Her eyes barely opened and she realized dazedly that he covered her body with his own, keeping most of his weight off her. He lay very still, watching her closely, perspiration beading his drawn, taut features.
He leaned down, caressing her lips, his breath moist against her face. “Now we’re one, Aly, as it should be. You and I. No pain, perhaps some pressure, but no agony.”
He placed his hand beneath her back, curving her torso slightly upward to gain access to a flushed nipple. He smiled to himself as she automatically pressed upward against him, feeling her tremble as she slowly got used to him being embedded within her liquid core, which held him tightly in its loving grasp.
“Do you like that?” he whispered, running his tongue around her earlobe. He gently moved his hips and heard a sigh come from her lips. “Yes, you like it,” he growled thickly, sliding his hands down her rib cage and settling them against her hips. Her lashes fluttered closed as he carefully began to move forward, a little more each time, his penetration going deeper and deeper until finally her body had accepted all of him.
She lay beneath him, begging his body to love her. He brought her into rhythm with himself, calculating his movements to give her maximum pleasure. Moments wove into a timeless world bright with shocks of pleasure, and Tray felt Alyssa become boneless in his hands. It was then that he knew Alyssa was beyond the fear, having placed herself in total trust to him. Gripping her hips, he stroked more deeply, watching as a flush of pleasure colored her features. Her fingers clasped his arms and fire rushed through him as she arched upward, her legs encircling him.
Liquid heat molded and fused, and both were overwhelmed with the suddenly frantic need to give to each other. Sweat gleamed across his body as Tray fought to control himself. Teeth clenched, he raised her hips, feeling her stiffen. A breathless cry tore from her lips, a glorious cry heralding the completeness of their union. It was only then that he relinquished his iron control and hungrily surged into her, taking her, needing her, until the moment when he released himself deeply into her loving, sharing body.
Chapter Fourteen
“My lord?” Craddock came to the door.
Tray looked up from his desk. He and Alyssa had been back at Shadowhawk for six weeks, and tomorrow they were to wed. “Yes?”
“The gift has just arrived for Miss Alyssa.” The butler’s stout Welsh face broke into a wide grin.
“Where’s Alyssa right now?”
“Out in the stable feeding Inky, my lord.”
A slight smile brightened Tray’s face as he came around the desk. “Excellent. Have the gift brought to the stable door. I’ll bring Alyssa out and we’ll see if she’s pleased with it.”
“Yes, my lord!”
Stablemaster Thomas grinned, telling Alyssa another Welsh tale while he supported the black lamb she nursed from a glove containing milk. Tray rested his arms on top of the small door, absorbing Alyssa’s quiet beauty. Typical of Alyssa on any given day, she wore one of the many cotton dresses that had been made for her. The pale blue dress was tied with a dark blue sash and, as always, a lace collar adorned her slender throat.
Her thick mane of auburn hair had been tamed into a single braid that hung like a richly colored wine rope across her shoulder and down between her breasts. Tomorrow, he thought warmly, tomorrow you’ll be my wife, Aly. God, I love you so much….
“Tray!” Alyssa twisted around and greeted him with a blinding smile. “How long have you been standing there?”
He returned her smile and roused himself. “Just a few minutes.”
“Inky will be done in just a moment. To what do we owe the honor of seeing you come out of your study at this time of day?” she teased.
“I was wondering if the future mistress of Shadowhawk would like to accept a wedding gift from her husband-to-be?”
Her eyes widened. “A gift? Oh, Tray!” She handed Thomas the glove, begging him to finish feeding Inky. Wiping her hands on a nearby cloth, she got to her feet and rushed over to the door, which Tray opened for her. “But I didn’t expect anything,” Alyssa told him breathlessly, leaning up on tiptoe to kiss him.
Tray returned her chaste peck and slipped his arm around her waist, leading her down the aisle. “Didn’t you know it is proper for the groom to give his young bride gifts?”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know much about Welsh customs.” And then she added with a mischievous smile, “Yet.”
He smiled down at her, drinking in her unabashed enthusiasm. Tray drew her to a halt. “All right, my lovely bride, close your eyes now. I shall lead you out into the stable yard and I’ll tell you when to open them.”
She smiled, obeying him. “Oh, Tray! I’m so excited. Hurry! Hurry!” She gripped his hand eagerly.
Laughing, Tray carefully guided her out onto the cobblestoned yard. “You may open them now, sweet Aly,” he whispered near her ear.
Nothing could have prepared Alyssa for the gift as her eyes flew open. There, standing in front of her, was an exquisite Arabian mare held by two grooms in green livery. The animal’s dappled gray skin shone in the sun, her mane, tail and legs coal black. Alyssa gasped, her hands going to her mouth in disbelief. She felt Tray’s hands settle on her shoulders, drawing her against him.
“Ohhh…she’s beautiful!”
“And she’s yours,” he whispered, smiling. “Her name is Ghazieh and she is of the Seglawi Jedran strain, one of the most elegant and beautiful of all Arabian breeding.” He placed his arms around Alyssa, resting his chin against the crown of her head. “Do you like her, little one? I know your love of horses and I wanted to purchase one that would do justice to your own beauty.”
Alyssa gave a cry and turned, throwing her arms around his thickly corded neck. “She’s lovely, Tray! Thank you! Thank you!”
Ghazieh stamped and snorted, her fine ears moving nervously, her thin nostrils flared. Alyssa released Tray and quietly talked to the mare as she approached. Tray smiled, crossing his arms as he watched the two females become acquainted. The joy in Alyssa’s face wove a blanket of warmth around him. Even the Earl of Culver’s grooms were smiling. The mare stood more than fourteen hands, tall for her breed, and was the most exquisite example of Arabians in England. He had contacted Culver immediately after getting back from lambing. Her high price seemed a small sum in comparison to how rich Tray felt having Alyssa’s love. And typical of any animal on Shadowhawk, Ghazieh immediately fell under Alyssa’s spell as she was gently caressed and stroked by her new owner.
“She’s so lovely!” Alyssa said over and over ag
ain, running her knowledgeable hands down the mare’s straight legs, marveling at her nearly perfect conformation.
“Well, are you going to spend the rest of the day doting on Ghazieh or are you going to join Rasheed and me for our daily ride?” he taunted, grinning.
Alyssa straightened up, meeting his smile. She gave a deep curtsy. “We’d be honored to ride at your side, my lord. If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll return in proper riding clothes and meet you shortly.”
Tray nodded. “Hurry, love of my heart,” he said softly.
* * *
“Heaven. Sheer heaven, Tray!” Alyssa laughed, reining in the elegant gray mare. Having donned a forest green riding habit and white silk blouse, Alyssa had allowed her hair to remain loose and rode without the customary hat perched on her head. She met Tray’s smiling gray eyes, her heart blossoming with love as they slowed to a walk at each other’s side. The sun was actually warm for early May, and birds flitted through the azure sky with nesting material in their beaks. It was a time for birth, Alyssa thought, touching her own stomach, trying to imagine what it would be like to carry Tray’s child.
“You are heaven, my lady,” Tray corrected, looking darkly handsome in his canary yellow breeches, black boots and a white peasant shirt that he always wore opened at his throat. His ebony hair was slightly curled, highlighted with blue from the sun’s rays.
Alyssa leaned over, patting Ghazieh affectionately. Her expression became pensive. “Are you nervous about tomorrow, Tray?”
He gazed over at her. “No,” he answered softly. “Are you?”
She picked worriedly at Ghazieh’s silken black mane. “You’ve gone through this before. I haven’t.” Dismounting, Alyssa knew she must tell him the truth about everything. Her conscience would not allow her to do otherwise. She tied Ghazieh’s reins to a wrought-iron circle hanging from the stable wall. “There are things I must tell you, Tray. Things that may, perhaps, change your mind about marrying me.”
She avoided his look of concern as he dismounted and came to her side, his hand resting on her slumped shoulder. “Tell me,” he ordered heavily. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it—together.”
Alyssa glanced up at him, seeing gentleness in every feature of his craggy face. Swallowing hard, she whispered, “My father was aiding Tone in the rebellion. And I was caught up in a skirmish near Wexford. But I was there to protect the children of the men who would go up against the English. After the third charge, the rebellion was broken. The English were murdering our children and raping our women. And I’ll never regret picking up that pistol and shooting that horse in the chest.”
Her voice trembled as she scanned his set face. “After we were taken onto ship, as prisoners, your half brother, Vaughn, took my father up on deck and tortured him, trying to force him to tell where the rest of the weapons were hidden. My father wouldn’t answer, no matter what Vaughn did to him. When torturing Father proved fruitless, Vaughn ordered my sister-in-law, Shannon, dragged from our cell.” Alyssa choked, fighting back the tears. “Vaughn tied her to a mast and began flogging her with a whip. Each time my father refused to answer a question, he struck Shannon. I heard her screams and my father begging Vaughn to spare Shannon.” Her voice cracked. “He laughed! Your half brother laughed! He murdered my brother’s wife!”
“Aly…” Tray begged, walking toward her.
“No!” she cried, holding out her hand toward him, her green eyes piercing. “My father was told that if he didn’t give the whereabouts of the weapons, I would be raped before his very eyes. Do you know who pulled me from my cell by my hair, up those wooden stairs and across Shannon’s freshly spilled blood on the deck?” Her voice rose in near hysteria. “Vaughn did that! He had me splayed out in front of my father, and he tore the clothes from my body!”
Alyssa saw Tray moving toward her and fled, running as hard as her riding habit and boots would allow. Her sobs were raw, choking sounds as she tore through the stable door and slammed it shut behind her. Perhaps she’d just sealed her fate and Tray would never marry her, but she could not have become his wife without having the truth out in the open between them. Unable to stop weeping, Alyssa buried her face in her hands and walked to the stall that housed the injured lamb, Inky. The little black runt bleated and limped into her arms, nuzzling and butting against her. Alyssa gently gathered the lamb to her breast, sobbing.
She didn’t hear Tray’s approach. It wasn’t until he knelt down beside her and drew her into his arms, holding her and the lamb, that she became aware of his presence. Tray held her so tightly she thought he might crush her as he kissed her hair, temple and wet cheek.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked hoarsely. “Why, Aly? Why?”
She choked and hiccuped, trying to halt her tears. “I thought Vaughn had already told you what he did to me.”
“Oh, sweet God, sweet God, no…my half brother keeps his bloody deeds to himself.”
Confused, Alyssa raised her head. She saw Tray’s ravaged face glistening with tears. “Y-you didn’t know….”
His hands shook with barely controlled anger as he cupped her face. “Vaughn said nothing! I knew nothing of this until just now, Aly.”
Her eyes grew dark. “I couldn’t understand how you could forgive and tolerate Vaughn for what he had done to me….”
“My God,” he rasped, “if I had known that, Aly, I would never have allowed him near you.” His lips drew away from his teeth. “I’d have killed the bastard on sight.” He bowed his head. “My God, what he did to you…my own half brother. I can never forgive myself, never….”
Alyssa clutched Inky protectively, content to be held by Tray. The lamb bleated and began to butt vigorously against her. It was feeding time again. Tray leaned down, kissing her cheek. “How about if I get the milk bag and we’ll feed him?”
Alyssa’s heart swelled with fierce love for him. “Then…it’s all right? You still want me?”
“Of course I do. Nothing has changed.” Tray handed her the glove containing the milk, bothered by Alyssa’s still troubled expression. As he knelt next to her, his arm around her waist, he whispered, “What else bothers you, Aly, about our getting married?”
She lifted her chin, her eyes jade. “I wish I could tell Dev and Gavin. To explain. What if they hear I’ve wedded an Englishman?”
“No doubt they’d be upset.”
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I may never see my brothers again, but I would want them to know that I’m marrying you out of love.”
He smiled warmly, reaching out and clasping her hand. “Not because I’m Welsh?”
She returned the smile. “I love the man and the country he was born in.”
“And I love you, my sweet Irish colleen. And tomorrow at noon,” he promised her thickly, “you shall become my wife, and the mistress of Shadowhawk.”
* * *
The small wedding chapel was filled to capacity with friends and servants. A glittering spectacle of more than a hundred candles only added to the breathtaking beauty of the bride. Farmers who tilled the soil of Shadowhawk stood with their wives beside the liveried servants who burst with pride as Alyssa walked down the aisle to where Tray stood with the priest. Sorche dabbed her eyes again and again, huge tears rolling down her cheeks when she saw a look of tenderness and pride come to Tray’s face as he saw his bride for the first time. Indeed, all of them were awestruck as Alyssa was escorted into church on the arm of Stablemaster Thomas.
The ivory silk of the simple dress had pearls sewn into the lace of the bodice, the throat and long tube sleeves, enhancing Alyssa’s natural beauty. Sorche had had the seamstress take great pains with the dress, the delicate veil and heavily brocaded train. Her flesh was peach-colored with a rose flush, making her emerald eyes look even larger than usual. And now, with her hair down, a single strand of pearls encircling her head and soft wisps of bangs brushing her brows, the wine-colored tresses flowing down across her small breasts, she looked like a prince
ss come to life. Their princess.
Tray swallowed hard, his gray eyes bright as he reached out to claim his bride’s slender hand. He hung on to each word of the ceremony and mass, sending each phrase he repeated from his heart to hers. Alyssa’s voice was quiet but sure as she said the vows that would bind until death. When Tray slipped on a delicate gold wedding band encrusted with tiny emeralds, the color of her eyes, Alyssa felt her chest constrict with so much love for Tray that she almost cried. And as he leaned down to kiss his wife, she tasted the salt of his tears on his lips.
Afterward, the manor rang with music, dancing and feasting. The local Welsh and English gentry had been invited. Those who had dealt with Tray over the years and knew of his fairness and the tragedy of his first marriage had come with offers of congratulations. They had only to dance with the shy but beautiful bride to know she would breathe new life into the manor. And one look at Lord Trayhern was enough to realize how much he loved his young wife, who smiled radiantly and laughed often. Yes, Shadowhawk would once again be happy….
* * *
“Sorche, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Alyssa sat up in bed, her hair in mild disarray around her pale features.
“You’ve been sick every day since the wedding,” Sorche admitted, helping her with the dressing robe. “Come on, lamb, join me in the drawing room for a cup of hot tea. That will help settle that stomach of yours.”
Later, Alyssa sat near the fire while Sorche sewed. She held the cup with both hands, staring down at the tea. Ordinarily, the fragrant odor would smell good to her, but now it didn’t. She gave Sorche a bewildered look.
“Tray is beginning to worry about me.”
Sorche snorted. “He would! I swear, if you sneeze the wrong way, he’s ready to hustle you off to bed and call Dr. Birch!”
A slight smile came to Alyssa’s lips. “I think he’s afraid of losing me, the way he lost Shelby,” she said softly.
“I know, I know. He can’t help it, lamb. I’ve never seen him so in love.”
Lord of Shadowhawk Page 19