Lasses, Lords, and Lovers: A Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Arissa groaned when he rolled her onto her stomach, his mouth moving to consume her delectable backside. She could feel his teeth on the swell of her buttocks, nipping at her, licking her. He moved down the back of her thighs, worshipping every inch of her silken flesh as she thrashed and twisted beneath him. Just when she was sure she could stand no more of his attentions, anxious to feel his manhood fill her, he grasped her hips and pulled her to her knees.

  Buttocks in the air as her nipples grazed the furs, she turned to look at him through the wild web of black hair that covered her. “What are you doing?” she rasped.

  He smiled wolfishly, running his hands down her smooth buttocks, moving to grasp her thighs. Pulling them apart slightly, she was aware of his throbbing erection pressing against her from behind. Without a word, he thrust deep, driving into her, sliding his full hard length until he was completely sheathed within her tight little body.

  The ease of his entry into her slippery passage fed his lust like nothing he had ever experienced, and he did not afford Arissa a chance to adjust to the new position before he was driving into her with unearthly force.

  In the grip of passion, Arissa cried and gasped, biting off her screams as his pulsing shaft created a scalding friction deep within her loins. The harder he pushed, the harder she wanted him to push. She began to work with him, meeting his rocket thrusts, grunting with pleasure each time their bodies collided. A faint sheen of perspiration coated their bodies in response to the physical demonstration of their love.

  Richmond could feel the tiny muscles of her sheath fluttering in preparation for her fulfillment. He released her hips, running his hands up the front of her torso until he came to her beautiful breasts. Grabbing hold, he pulled her into an upright position against him and continued to thrust.

  “Give it to me, Riss,” he rasped into her ear. “Give me all of it. Let me feel it.”

  She whimpered, shaking her head incoherently. Knowing she was unable to comprehend his meaning, he maintained a grip on her breasts with one hand as the other hand moved to the triangle of moist dark curls between her legs. Stroking her hard, he could feel her tiny bud of pleasure, hard and taut, awaiting release.

  Arissa’s climax burst forth in a deafening roar as Richmond manipulated her swollen nub. Feeling her muscles contract around his engorged member was all of the encouragement he required to spill his seed, hard and long and lingering. He was barely aware of her shrieking gasps, hardly cognizant of her heaving body as she swooned against him. As his tremors died, his reeling senses struggled to return to the world at hand and he collapsed onto the furs with Arissa clutched tightly against his chest.

  He could not help but ponder the fact that he had neglected yet again to use the pessaries. Somehow, she had taken control of his common sense and he had been helpless against her. But the deed had been done and now he was lingering on the fact as the night passed in icy stillness around them.

  He found himself praying to God that she had not conceived, cursing himself again for his own stupidity and weakness. He knew better than to allow her demands to overshadow his wisdom, but God help him, it would have taken the strength of Samson to deny her heated little body the bliss of his uncontrolled passion. What troubled him the most was the fact that he knew it would not be the last time.

  Unaware of Richmond’s fear and remorse, Arissa pushed the stray hair from her eyes and raised her head, focusing on his beautiful blue eyes.

  “Did I give it to you?” she whispered.

  He erupted into low laughter, shaking with mirth. “You did indeed, kitten. You gave me everything I asked for.”

  She smiled sleepy, satisfied and content as his chortles faded. “Good. ’Tis my pleasure to grant your requests. Even if I do not understand exactly what I am granting.”

  He kissed her hair. “Your body understands even if your mind does not. But that will come with time.”

  She sighed with contentment, falling silent as she listened to the sounds of the cold December eve. In truth, they were both at a loss to find the correct words to voice the imminent separation that would face them come the morrow. They had spent the past week in complete ignorance of the future, living day to day as if nothing else existed.

  But reality was upon them, whether or not they were ready to accept it, and Arissa savored the feel of Richmond against her, tucking the sensation of his heated body deep into the recesses of her memory when the nights at the abbey grew particularly cold and lonely. The thought of the sun rising, bringing forth the new day, brought stabs of agony to her heart and the sting of tears prickled her eyes, threatening torrents. But she refused to give in to the pain; for tonight, she would feel only the pleasure of his love. Come tomorrow, there would be tears enough to drown her.

  Richmond began kissing her ear tenderly, distracting her from the thoughts of the pending morrow. Remembering her vow to maintain a brave front, at least for the duration of the night, she gave into his kisses, twisting in his arms until his heated lips came to bear on her own. Whimpering softly as his warm hand found her breast, she wrapped her legs about his narrow hips in preparation for accepting his scalding manhood when another low, mournful wail penetrated the night sky.

  Richmond suddenly paused, sighing heavily into Arissa’s mouth as he raised his head as if to see Gavan through the thick oiled tarp. Arissa, her arms wound around his neck, followed his gaze and she could sense a change in his mood. While he was tucked away, warm and content to enjoy all that love had to offer, his best friend was in the midst of the greatest agony he had ever known.

  For a few blissful moments he had been completely oblivious to all but his own needs; now, however, hearing Gavan’s testimony of grief as it carried on the damp night air brought a measure of guilt.

  “We cannot leave him out there all night, Richmond,” Arissa whispered, reading his thoughts. “We must try to bring him back, if only to keep an eye on him so that he does not hurt himself in his anguish.”

  “Gavan would not hurt himself,” Richmond replied, stroking her skin and feeling her life as desperately as Gavan wanted to feel the life of his beloved Kathryn once more. He refocused on her pale green eyes, drinking in her exquisite features. “But I fear for his sanity. I have never known the man to lose control.”

  Arissa gazed into his eyes, seeing his terrible indecision; he wanted to remain with her, loving the night away, but deep inside he harbored a fierce desire to comfort his friend. Even if they were on the verge of separation, one factor remained clear; they would be together, eventually. Their brief respite from one another was nothing compared to the picture of their overall future. They would be together again, eventually. But Gavan could not look forward to the same with his wife.

  Pushing her own wants aside, she tapped Richmond lightly on the shoulder. “Get up and find your clothes. We must comfort Gavan.”

  He looked surprised and uncertain. “But… Riss, this is our last night and….”

  “I am well aware that this is our last night together for a short time,” she said as bravely as she could manage. Another pitiful wail wafted on the salty air and Arissa gave him a second pat, encouraging him to rise. “Up, I say. After we put Gavan to bed, we shall still have until sunrise for our own pleasure. We must take care of him, Richmond. He’s all alone now.”

  He’s all alone now. Richmond saw the truth of her words, the selflessness of her manner, and his decision was made for him. Kissing her gratefully, he pushed himself up and went in search of his clothing as she fumbled for her soft woolen undergarments. Securing his hose and heavy tunics, he turned to help her finish fastening the lamb’s wool surcoat he was so very fond of. Securing a new woolen cloak about her slender shoulders, he grasped her hand and quit the tent in search of Gavan.

  He was not hard to find. On his knees in the middle of a muddy clearing, his massive broadsword had been driven into the ground before him and Gavan leaned against the weapon as if praying to it. Richmond and Arissa emerged onto th
e mucky field, their manner silent and hesitant. They approached to within several feet of the grieving man before Richmond released her, silently beckoning for her to remain in place as he moved closer.

  Richmond was reluctant to speak, lest he interrupt whatever prayers Gavan was offering to God on Kathryn’s behalf. After several doubtful moments, he cleared his throat quietly.

  “Gavan?”

  The big man did not move; there was no indication that he had even heard Richmond’s softly uttered hail. Arissa watched Richmond with big eyes as he slowly knelt beside his friend, concern in his expression.

  “Gavan, do you hear me?”

  Again he was met with no response. Feeling a growing measure of despondency, he cast a long glance at Arissa and was about to make a third attempt when Gavan suddenly shifted on his bent knees.

  “I hear you.”

  Richmond let out a long, heavy sigh. “The hour grows late. Mayhap you would allow Arissa and I to escort you back to camp.”

  Gavan shifted again and his head came up, his impassive expression barely visible under the cloud-shrouded moon glow. He stared at the hilt of his sword as if the semi-precious jewels encrusted in the hilt contained all of the answers he was seeking. Over his shoulder and several feet away, Arissa could feel his pain as if it were her very own. Tears renewed themselves in the pale green eyes as she gazed at the once-mighty warrior, all but crumpled with grief and agony.

  She could only empathize with his pain; knowing that if anything ever happened to Richmond, surely she would not want to live, either. She knew that her grief would kill her.

  “I killed her,” Gavan said after a moment, his voice faint and raspy. “I killed her with my massive seed. She was far too small to carry my son. I…. I should have known, Richmond. I should have known.”

  Arissa swallowed hard, hearing Richmond’s word echoing in her mind. But Richmond did not look at her; he was focused on Gavan.

  “That is simply not true,” Richmond replied softly. “What happened was the will of God, Gavan. You must not believe you had anything to do with her death.”

  Gavan’s hands came up, gripping the sword with fierce intensity as he walked the fine line between reason and madness. “God is punishing me. He’s proving my worthlessness by taking away what is most precious in my life,” he suddenly grasped the hilt of the sword, driving it deeper into the earth, carving through the damp soil as he wanted to carve out his own heart. “God is punishing me for my shortcomings. Perhaps He’s punishing me for not being pious enough or for creating more widows than I can count. In battle, they say all is forgiven in heaven and hell, but that is not the truth. God is punishing me, Richmond. I have become his fallen.”

  Richmond was distressed. “Untrue, my friend. Kathryn succumbed to a familiar happening and nothing more. This has nothing to do with punishment.”

  Gavan suddenly bolted to his feet, weaving dangerously as a startled Richmond nearly stumbled in his attempt to regain his footing. Gavan’s face was filled with more emotion than Richmond had ever seen. “You do not understand, Richmond,” he exploded with madness. “God is condemning me by taking my wife.”

  Arissa let out a choked sob, rushing to Gavan in a great billowing cloud of soft wool. Throwing her arms about the man’s waist, she sobbed loudly into his chest, absorbing the anguish from his soul as if it were her own.

  Watching him descend into the depths of agonizing madness frightened her; Gavan had always been an exceedingly kind and gentle man, his wisdom and rationality unmatched. To observe his plummet into the bowels of grief was a truly terrifying event; not knowing how else to save him, she grabbed hold of him as if to physically prevent him from plunging further and further into the realm of dementia.

  “Gavan, please do not curse yourself,” she murmured urgently. “You did not kill her, nor is God punishing you. Please do not hate yourself for loving your wife enough to give her a son,” her head came up, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gazed into his tormented eyes. “Any woman will tell you that the risk of bringing forth a son for the man they love is worth the threat of death. It is considered an honor to devote one’s life to something so selflessly that you would be willing to die for it, is it not?”

  Gavan gazed at her, unbalanced and disoriented. But he managed a slight nod and Arissa forced a smile through her anguished tears. “You would willingly die for England, or Richmond, would you not? And you would do it a thousand times over were you given the choice because you love them so,” she sniffled, releasing one arm from him and wiping daintily at her eyes. “’Tis the same with women and childbearing, Gavan. To bear a child for the man you love, to provide him with a legacy, is the greatest honor any woman could ask for. Death is simply a part of that choice and you cannot blame yourself for a risk she was more than willing to take.”

  He stared at her, hearing a powerful rational in her softly spoken words. He was tremendously torn between the desire to seek comfort in her intelligence and the undisputable evidence of God’s wrath. As Arissa gazed into his tortured brown depths, silently beseeching him to come to reason, he closed his eyes and looked away from her; he could not entertain the notion that, mayhap, she was correct. He knew for certain he had as much as killed his beloved Kathryn himself.

  “God is… He’s…,” he stammered, refusing to look at her.

  Arissa squeezed him tightly, firmly. “He’s not punishing you. Kathryn has died attempting to complete a most noble task. Are you going to disgrace her by casting the blame upon yourself to divert attention from her sacrifice?”

  He swallowed hard, meeting her urgent gaze with the utmost reluctance. Bits and pieces of her wisdom were succeeding in penetrating his brittle shell, weakening him and strengthening him at the same time. The longer he gazed at her, the more his reasoning began to return.

  He suddenly let out a huge sob, collapsing to his knees and nearly taking Arissa with him had Richmond not grabbed her. Gavan wrapped his massive arms about Arissa, pressing his face into her soft abdomen as if to hide from the reality that threatened, the truth that cut him to the bone. Richmond stood behind her, supporting her against Gavan’s considerable weight and putting his arms about the both of them. Wrapped in two pairs of comforting arms, Gavan allowed his tears to come.

  “She died for me,” he sobbed.

  Arissa’s tears fell onto his light brown hair. “She died for you both. There is no sorrow in a noble sacrifice, Gavan. Only gratitude and love. You must remember that.”

  The dark December sky crowded with gray-puff clouds, threatening rain as three grieving mortals huddled beneath it. But God did not choose to add to the sorrow that cloaked the muddy field; a brisk sea breeze gently whisked the clouds away, leaving the night a brilliant, beautiful thing indeed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Whitby Abbey was nestled upon the sheer cliffs of the Yorkshire coast, a looming gray sentinel above the churning waters. A large structure, moody and silent, Arissa took one look at her future home and burst into tears. Seated on the wagon bed, Emma did her best to comfort her friend as she too drew in the imposing sight.

  The caravan passed through the eastern portion of the North York Moors, hugging the coastline as they drew closer to the stone abbey. It could be seen in the distance for several miles, hanging on the horizon as if silently beckoning the approaching horde into her gaping jaws. After her first glimpse, Arissa refused to look at the structure any longer and turned her back on it stubbornly. With every step her grief took greater foothold and she sobbed quietly into her kerchief as Emma held her hand.

  Although his reaction had not been quite as emotional, Richmond too felt the distinct pressure of sorrow as his eyes beheld the abbey with the solid reputation. The closer the column drew, the weightier the sentiment became until he found himself looking away from the structure. He just couldn’t stomach to look at it anymore.

  It did not strike him odd that Gavan seemed to be in full command of the troops this morn, allowing hi
s liege the opportunity to become acquainted with the idea that the day of separation had finally come. All of Richmond’s energies were focused on the larger-than-life cathedral looming ever closer, threatening to snatch what was most precious to him, and he found himself struggling against the familiar anxiety that had plagued him for well over a week.

  Twenty glorious days filled with the ever-lurking threat of separation. Forcing himself to concentrate on his strategies, he found himself planning his schedule once he deposited Arissa within the safety of Whitby’s walls; to plea for her hand, to wrangle the king’s cooperation in the matter, to settle the unpleasant business at hand. He began to calm as he determined the time table by which to complete his duties and retrieve Arissa. It was going to be as short as he could possibly make it.

  Richmond was so involved with his thoughts that he was genuinely startled when several of his men chorused an alarm. Momentarily off-guard, he reined his destrier in the indicated direction only to be faced with a band of soldiers charging towards him across the bleak moor.

  It took him less than a second to observe the wicked flash of weapons in the weak sunlight, at least a hundred men armed for warfare, and his heart surged into his throat when he realized, very shortly, they would be under attack.

  “Gavan!” he roared, unsheathing his mighty broadsword. “Take Arissa and Emma to the abbey!”

  Gavan was already in motion, the surge of an impending fight infiltrating his veins. Digging his golden spurs into the charger’s sides, he made his way toward the ladies as Richmond’s men-at-arms took up defensive positions.