by Ruth Kaufman
Joanna wished she knew how women made men desire them. The confidence that filled her while she painted her windows and discussed commissions had fled.
Adrian walked to the bed and unbuckled his belt. He pulled off the tunic, leaving the short doublet underneath. He untied his collar and sleeves, then the ties on his doublet, exposing dark hairs and a hint of his chest. His shoulders flexed as he removed his undergarment. That left his hose and pointed shoes.
Joanna continued to meet his gaze, refusing to look away. She wanted him to know she wasn’t afraid. Moistening her dry lips with her tongue, she moved her hands to her waist to untie her robe.
“Wait.” Adrian’s voice was low and deep. “Not yet.”
Joanna’s hands stopped on her belt. Already she’d done the wrong thing. She drew the robe tighter about her.
The ropes creaked as he sat sideways on the bed. She turned to face him, trying not to stare at the well-muscled expanse of his chest. Soon she’d see all of him. Touch all of him. The first foray into intimacy. Into secrets.
She took in a deep breath and let it out. Tension combined with budding desire made her heart pound as she felt the heat of him warm her.
Adrian ran his hands through her hair, gently brushing it back from her face, watching as the curls straightened then recurled. He took a single curl and wrapped the strands around his finger.
“How I’ve wanted to do this again. So soft.” He bent toward her and inhaled. “And smells even better.”
At least he liked her hair. Joanna felt that strange tingling in her most private parts as he leaned closer.
He tangled his hands in her hair and gently drew her near, so their mouths were only inches apart. His eyes, darker blue now, filled with warmth and sparks of hunger. His breath smelled of mint.
Anticipation built within her.
“I’ve wanted to do this again too,” he whispered.
He did want her. Joanna rejoiced.
Adrian lowered his lips to hers and kissed her softly. He pulled back as if to see how she reacted to his touch. Seemingly satisfied, he shifted closer. He kissed her, his mouth firm on her own. Then he showered light kisses on her lips, her face, her neck. Everywhere his lips touched, she felt a rush of incredible warmth. Joanna captured his and kissed him, gasping as his tongue met hers. He deepened the kiss, taking possession of her with the force of his desire.
She slid her arms behind his neck and drew him against her, savoring the heat and solidness of his chest through her thin robe. Joanna wanted to spend hours enjoying the feel of his mouth on hers, the warmth and hardness of him against her.
He broke the kiss. He untied her belt and slipped the soft wool from her shoulders. Adrian groaned softly as he exposed her nakedness. He reached out to take her breasts into his hands.
“Yes,” he murmured.
Slowly he explored them, gently lifting, sliding his fingers over the taut nipples. Ripples of pleasure spread through her.
“Oh, yes,” she agreed.
Her husband wanted her. The heady power heightened her arousal.
He leaned forward, looking up at her as his tongue flicked out to lick her nipple. Then he closed his eyes, sucking her gently, swirling his tongue over her flesh. She swayed, twining her fingers in his hair to draw him closer. She relished the wondrous sensations flowing through her at Adrian’s touch.
Margery hadn’t mentioned anything about this.
His lips still doing marvelous things to her skin, Adrian picked Joanna up and set her on her back. He pulled away, leaving her wanting more. She reclined against the pillows and waited. Adrian kept his eyes on her as he removed his shoes, then dropped his hose.
For the first time Joanna looked upon an aroused man. And wasn’t sure she liked what she saw.
Had Margery known how big a man’s cock could be?
Adrian watched Joanna as he removed his clothes, hoping to encourage her natural passion. She presented an incredibly erotic picture with her curls tumbling about her in enticing disarray, her breasts partially covered by the silken strands. He liked the way she watched him, unabashed, without the shy, embarrassed mien of a virgin. The way her slight smile seemed to welcome him.
He’d known Joanna only a short time, but he knew that no woman from his past could compare to her. For no other woman was Joanna. He wanted to bring her pleasure while satisfying his own desires. But what if—
All would be lost unless he lived in the moment.
Her mouth dropped open as his hose slid to the floor. He should’ve remembered sooner that lovemaking was new to her. But she’d come so willingly into his arms, her kisses had been so arousing. Still, he should move slower, for her sake. Theirs may be a marriage of convenience, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy each other.
He should add a stipulation: intimate conversation about making love was more than welcome.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “I’m a fortunate husband.”
Her smile was his reward.
Slowly, he pushed her hair from her breasts so he could see them better. Her curls shimmered fiery red in the brazier’s glow. He resumed his gentle assault, stroking her softness. Savoring the fact that she was his.
He leaned forward and sucked gently on her nipple, swirling his tongue over her flesh. She tasted sweet as honeyed wine. His erection pulsed as she swayed against him, her hands in his hair drawing him closer.
Adrian had to feel her skin against his. He eased himself onto the bed alongside her.
Exquisite.
“What should I do?” she whispered.
“What do you desire?”
“I want to touch you.”
“I want that, too.” He needed it.
Joanna sat up, her hair tumbling about them. Her small hands slid leisurely over his shoulders, down his arms. She caressed his chest, letting her fingers trail over the ridges of muscle. His heartbeat quickened, sending heat through his veins. He responded to her so quickly, so thoroughly.
Seeing and touching her, being touched in return heightened his arousal to the limits of his control. If her exploration went any lower, he wouldn’t last. He’d never ached so strongly with the need for release.
Could Joanna tell how much he wanted her? How much she affected him? Despite their agreement, he wanted her to know how special she was to him. He’d show her. He moved over her, bracing himself on his knees as he kissed her. Not the pretty kisses they’d shared thus far, but a deep, thirsting kiss to convey his yearning. He put his arms around her and pressed against her. She kissed him back with equal fervor.
Adrian reached between them to stroke her secret softness. She squeezed her legs together, trapping his hand.
“Open for me,” he whispered. “Let me pleasure you.”
She released her grip, giving him access.
So wet. So ready. He had done that. She wanted him. Another surge of desire charged through him. Straight to his groin.
Joanna moaned as he established a soothing rhythm, lifting her hips against his hand. He had to be inside her.
“Adrian, more….” she gasped.
Her demand pleased him to the depths of his soul. She was as caught up in passion as he. Next time, he’d prolong their lovemaking. But his wife wanted him now, and he’d do his best to surpass any expectations.
He positioned himself. The tip of his erection pressed against her, sending fervid pulses through his very core. Carefully, defying the urgency within, he eased inside to allow her to adjust. He pulled away, then entered her again, moving a bit deeper into her moist heat. Joanna wriggled beneath him, as if to help him embed himself.
Adrian wanted to plunge into her, but pushed as gently as he could, moving past the tight barrier. Joanna gasped again, in pain, not pleasure, Adrian was sure. He hoped she’d soon join him in relishing the rightness of their joining, in the need for completion.
Her hands tightened on his arms as he waited, motionless, enjoying the incredible sensation of being
enveloped by her. Soon, soon they’d reach the pinnacle and release the wonderful tension building between them.
Suddenly his head started to pound. Next came the severe ache behind his eyes. He stiffened over her. Intense dread consumed him, obliterating arousal.
No, no, not now of all times! Not now. Though he tried to will the vision away, there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“Adrian?”
Joanna’s voice was low, sensuous. Her clear green gaze, so trusting, marred by slight confusion.
How many times would he have to betray that trust before she had none left to give?
His vision began to blur. He had to leave. Now. Or she’d learn his deepest secret. Any moment he could lose consciousness or enter a trance-like state where he might say anything. Do anything. For both their sakes, he couldn’t risk exposing her to his Sight.
“Adrian? Is something wrong?”
He felt Joanna’s concern through his pain. “I must go.”
Adrian pulled away and fled to his room across the hall, immersed in his suffering. Hands shaking, he slammed the door and managed to lock it. He staggered to his bed, then collapsed onto it, not having the will to cover himself.
The power of the vision gripped him, sucking him into its otherworldly depths.
His last rational thought was of Joanna. How could he ever explain this to her?
Chapter 9
“This is nothing to laugh at!” Joanna cried as Margery doubled over on a stool in Joanna’s workshop. Peals of glee echoed off the walls. Joanna threw a small brush at her half-sister. The brush missed its target and dropped to the floor. “Stop that. You should be more concerned for my welfare. I’ve been miserable ever since.”
After several long moments, Margery’s laughter subsided. She wiped tears from her cheeks, then caught her breath. “He left in the mi—middle?”
She collapsed again in a helpless fit of laughter, resting her head on the counter.
“Well, I think it was the middle. Perhaps closer to the end. How was I to be sure?” Joanna asked. “I didn’t realize how complicated lovemaking could be. This is most embarrassing. I never should’ve told you.”
She picked up her grozing iron and furiously snipped the edges off of a piece of glass. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Margery bite her lip to hide another smile.
“Forgive me for laughing. I do want to help. Tell me.” She leaned on her elbows. “Was it good?”
Joanna felt herself blush. “Really, Margery. All right, yes, quite good at first. The kissing was truly wondrous. He did want to kiss and touch me, as you’d said he might. Then he, he…he put…his hardened male part…which seemed large….”
She fervently wished she was less desperate for an explanation of his sudden departure. Worry consumed her like a raging bonfire. What had happened last night? Had she done something wrong? She’d waited, tense and hopeful at the same time, but he didn’t return to her room. His closed door seemed an unbreachable wall. After she heard him leave at first light, Joanna hurried to the studio and waited for Margery to awaken.
“So he was inside you.”
“Well, yes.”
Joanna thought back for the hundredth time. She had relived their aborted lovemaking over and over, analyzing every move. She’d been so intrigued by him and what he’d do next. His hands on her, the feelings and sensations engendered by their closeness had been more intense than she’d thought possible. A strange need had built inside her.
Adrian had seemed as pleased as she, the look in his eyes more tender than she’d seen.
She couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Had she disappointed him when she involuntarily stiffened at the sharp sting of losing her virginity? Even during the brief discomfort, she was steeped in desire. Surely he could tell that. Had there been something she was supposed to do or say?
Joanna cursed her innocence. But Adrian had known it was her first time. He had to have known there’d be some pain.
She sighed. “He was inside me for just a moment. Then he froze. He had the strangest expression on his face. Then he hurried away without a word of explanation,” she said. “The kissing and touching took some time, but the other didn’t take very long. How long should that part last?”
“Different amounts of time for different men. Did he moan and groan a lot? Grunt?”
“Men grunt?” That didn’t sound appealing. “Not really.”
Adrian’s eyes had clouded over. He’d tensed above her, then whispered, “No,” before clambering off the bed and running from her and the room without his robe or his clothes. She’d remained on the bed, clutching his tunic as if the garment could explain its owner’s strange behavior.
The physical pain of losing her virginity had been nothing compared to the agonizing mystery of his abandonment mixed with unfulfilled desire.
“Hmmm.” Margery frowned, then retrieved the brush Joanna had thrown. Idly she flicked the dry brush across the counter. “At first I thought he might have finished too early and was embarrassed. Did some fluid come from him? Or did you scream, or pull away? No, he wouldn’t have left if you had,” Margery answered her own question. “How did he look?”
“Sick, actually.”
“Sick? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Unless he prefers men to women,” Margery mused.
“What?”
“No, surely not Adrian,” Margery continued as though Joanna hadn’t spoken. “Hmmm. Maybe he had a touch of ague and didn’t want to vomit all over your pure flesh.”
“Margery!”
“Maybe he too was new to lovemaking and was nervous?”
“I doubt that. I’ve never seen Adrian nervous.” Joanna forced herself to voice her greatest concern. “I must’ve done something to offend or disappoint him. I fear I’ve failed him. Perhaps I shouldn’t have listened to your advice, but I tried to show him I enjoyed his touch. Is it possible to be too enthusiastic?”
For a few moments she’d feared he thought her wanton. She’d wanted to ask, but just couldn’t. This was too personal for her, whether talk of what went on in their bed fell under his definition of personal or not. Maybe, over time, she’d grow more comfortable.
“I don’t know much about the marriage bed, but I do know yours is a strange tale. Like as not he’ll return this evening with sweet apologies and make it up to you,” Margery said. “You worry too much, as usual. You barely know the man. Who knows what he has up his sleeve?”
Ignoring bitter winds, Adrian paced the streets of York, pondering his problems as he often had over the past few days. Walking once helped him uncover answers, the methodical movements somehow freeing his thoughts.
Not this time.
He couldn’t bear to face Joanna. How could he explain what had happened on their wedding night? Not only would the truth endanger her, she’d be appalled and likely want nothing more to do with him. What woman wanted a husband who had visions of what was to come? A man who was so different from other men, whose affliction, if discovered, would lead him to be thought a heretic or a sorcerer so the authorities might put him to death.
On the other hand, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. For several days he’d taken the coward’s way out, though he hated doing so. He slipped into his room in the wee hours of the morning and left before she woke. Each time, he had to force himself not to turn back and tell her everything. Adrian knew she’d keep to their agreement and not approach him on so sensitive an issue. But the issue had to be broached. He needed to know what she was thinking, how she felt. To find a way to apologize.
He missed talking to her. Their visits to her clients and time spent working together to satisfy the guild had filled a need for companionship he hadn’t known he had. She’d unearthed it and made him want more. He thought of her constantly. Which made him wonder what was wrong with him, for he’d never spent so much time thinking about a woman. Then again, he’d never had a wife.
What if she needed him and he wasn’t there? He
’d be breaking their agreement. He’d fail her. There had to be a way to free himself from this awful coil. Because of his Sight, he was no closer to fathering another heir than the day they married.
Which brought him back to their bizarre wedding night. The vision that interrupted their lovemaking was of a battle between the king’s men and the Duke of York. He didn’t know when, but he knew where. And he knew who would die.
As always, he wrestled with the difficult choice of whether or not to disclose his knowledge. And if he chose to share what he’d seen, how to explain. Perhaps he could tell Warwick he’d found some correspondence from the king’s party detailing the battle plan. But if Warwick asked to see the documents….
Lies upon lies, weaving a web stickier than a spider’s.
Who should decide: Adrian, York, or the king? And at what risk to the future? Did he see destiny? How might the future be altered if the deaths were prevented?
That might be the worst thing of all about his “gift,” worrying what would happen in the changed future if he helped someone avoid death or injury. Would more people suffer later because he saved someone now? Or was he supposed to save the subject of this particular vision so the future would be changed?
He couldn’t come up with a way to decide whom to warn. Nor could he keep what he knew from haunting him.
He could eke out one bit of good news. Usually his visions came several weeks apart, sometimes as long as a month. It was safe to go to Joanna now and spend a few days in her company, letting her goodness soothe him. He could be her husband. He could pretend his troubles were over.
Another problem ensnared him, one he had to resolve before the others. Adrian stood at the front door of Bedford Castle, on schedule for his weekly visit with Lady Anne. For the past few weeks he’d sent word he was too busy to meet with her. She hadn’t replied.
He couldn’t avoid her forever.