He threaded his fingers through her mane, twirling the tendrils around his fingers. Elena caressed his muscled arms, his shoulders, his back. He was so strong, so full of sinew, she wanted to rub each and every curve of muscle, kiss every inch of him. With each caress, the outside world ceased to exist and all they knew was each other. Desire. Pleasure. Need. And love.
Elena pulled her mouth from his to taste his corded neck, to wrench the buttons of his courtly attire open, yank his belt free. Sensing her urgency, Michael divested himself of his tunic and was left standing in his linen shirt, breeches and boots. Elena thrust her hands beneath his shirt, splaying her fingers on his abdomen, melding his hot flesh with her palms. Crisp hair tickled her sensitive flesh. She sighed, her urgency abating as she basked in the feel of his flesh against hers. She tipped her face up and Michael leaned down to brush his lips over hers.
"I like it when you touch me," he said softly against her mouth.
"I like touching you," she murmured.
Stroking his flat, rippled belly, Elena moved upward to his chest, stroking over his nipples, surprised they were as hard as her own. He sucked in through his teeth, and kissed her deeper. Curious, she played with his nipples, rolling them gently between her fingers. Michael hauled her closer, and even with the swell of her belly touching his abdomen, he could press his rigid length against the juncture of her thighs. For a moment she felt self-conscious as if he would not find her beautiful now that her belly had swollen.
But she needn't have feared. Michael sank to his knees in front of her and pressed his face to her belly, kissing her. She felt the heat of his breath through the layers of her gown and chemise.
He glanced up at her, his eyes dark with desire and love. "I had thought you beautiful before, but now with our child filling your belly, you are even more glorious to me."
He stood again, hips pressed to hers, the evidence of his desire firing her insides. Frissons of need leapt inside her. She wanted him to press there. She rubbed wantonly against him, loving the feel of his length stroking her in her most forbidden spot—remembering what it felt like when he thrust inside her. He cupped her breasts in his hands teasing her nipples through her gown then bent low and caught her mouth in another fiery kiss.
"I want you." Michael caught her lip between his teeth, gently teasing her. "Can you feel what you do to me?" He nuzzled her neck, his hands drifting down to hold her hips and then to her rear. He cupped her buttocks pulling her closer. His cock probed the folds of her gown, seeking the warmth of her sex. Sparks fired in her nether regions, slick now with yearning. She wanted, needed to be closer to him, flesh on flesh.
She frowned. "I am wearing too much."
"Indeed you are."
Taking her words as permission, Michael began the process of slowly removing her gown and when she stood in only her chemise and hose, he quickly removed those as well. She'd stopped wearing her corset the moment she stepped foot on Irish ground. He gazed at her body, his eyes roving up and down hungrily. She shivered and reached out to him.
Michael pulled her flush against him, lowering his lips to her mouth. He kissed her tenderly, lovingly, savoring her taste and the feel of her body against his.
"Now you are wearing too much," Elena said with a teasing smile.
"Indeed I am," he chuckled. He removed his boots and remaining clothes, all while Elena devoured him with her eyes.
He tugged her into his embrace once more and stroked his hands over her hips, making teasing swirls on the rounded flesh of her buttocks. She shivered in his arms, and let out little moans that sent his desire to soaring.
Michael pulled away from her to gaze into her eyes. They were cloudy with passion, and a small sensual smile curved her lips.
"I must be dreaming." He stroked her cheek, and ran his thumb over her lower lip—plump from his kisses. Her skin was flushed pink.
"'Tis no dream," she whispered. "Although it does feel surreal."
He nodded. "I never thought this day would come. I wanted it so badly. I wanted to protect you, to take you away from it all. To love you—even if in secret. But to have you as my wife…" he broke off, throat suddenly tight. He'd never felt this way before. It unnerved him that Elena could have this effect on him.
She caressed his chest, placing her hands on his heart. "'Tis a gift. We are blessed to have each other, Michael. To have love. I am grateful that you came to me, that you believed me."
"Oh, Elena, I would have come sooner if I'd known." His mouth came down on hers again, soft at first as he brushed his lips with velvet softness, then harder as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.
She arched her back, pushing her breasts against his chest. Boldly, she caressed over his ribs, abdomen, and stopped at the base of his shaft. He kissed her with more passion, with his lips urging her to keep going. And she did.
Michael groaned into her mouth as her soft hand captured his turgid flesh. She squeezed gently, exploring, and then stroked upward, her fingers rubbing over the head of his erection. She massaged his flesh, palmed the sac beneath, then did both with each hand. He panted against her mouth. His blood shot like lightning through his veins. He was going to lose control, finish into her hand if he didn't stop her. But Michael didn't want her to stop. Instead, he would give her a taste of her own attentions.
Elena sucked in a breath as Michael's fingers trailed over her abdomen, and then lower. One finger slipped between the lips of her sex and rubbed along the sensitive folds, and just barely over the nub of her pleasure. Even still, that simple stroke had her legs quivering, her breath coming fast, and embers of need and pleasure firing within her. His fingers played her magically as they danced over the folds, stroking here and there. She wasn't prepared for when one, then two digits sank inside her sheath.
"Oh!" she gasped, her head falling back.
Michael kissed his way down her throat as he stroked her into oblivion. Her hands fell away from his shaft, to grip his shoulders. His fingers moved faster still, in and out. His thumb circled over her pearl again and again.
Elena bit her lip and clung to Michael. She couldn't stand on her own two feet, her legs were wobbly. He was taking her somewhere, higher and higher. To that pinnacle she recalled as soul-shattering when they'd lain together on the rug in front of her fire that first time and then again in a rush of heat upon her bed.
Her insides fluttered as a climax began, and glorious heat, delicious sensation whipped through her. She cried out Michael's name, and he answered by kissing her with carnal passion as his fingers continued to work their magic.
When her body at last subsided, she felt warm all over, beautiful, loved. And she still yearned for more of the delicious pleasure her husband gave her.
Michael lifted her into the air, one arm beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. He carried her to the soft downy bed and laid her on its surface. At once the feel of the soft coverlet was cold on her back, but it quickly warmed from the heat of her. Michael covered her with his length, his hard, muscled body a solid pinnacle of strength, safety and pleasure. He leaned up on his elbows, careful not to press too hard on her belly. The swell of their child was still small enough that laying there with him in this way was not uncomfortable.
Elena wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging him down for a kiss. Her knees fell open at his urging, the hairs of his legs tickling her inner thighs. He undulated his hips against hers, teasing her flesh with his shaft, but not yet entering her body.
"I want you inside me," she murmured against his lips.
"Not yet. I want to savor this moment, this night."
He kissed his way down her chin, over her collarbones, sending delicious shivers along her flesh. Then he kissed the valley between her breasts, his hot breath on her skin an exotic delight. Her nipples hardened further, straining for his attention. She ran her hands through his thick hair, and was rewarded with his tongue flicking out to touch one nipple. Elena moaned at the sudden thrill that one
lick sent from her breasts to her center. He licked again, then swirled his tongue around and around. Arching her back, she begged with her body for him to take her fully into his mouth. But he teased her all the more, going from one nipple to the other, licking, blowing hot air on the cold tips. Then finally, he took a nipple into his mouth and suckled. Elena cried out with pleasure. Michael moaned against her skin. She raked her nails over his back to his buttocks, gripping his muscled rear in her hands. She was surprised at how taut his backside was, so different from her own. She lifted her legs higher around his hips, craving his total possession.
"Dear husband, I hope your savoring is done, I cannot wait a moment longer to feel you inside me."
"You tempt me beyond reason," he murmured back, still nuzzling at her breasts. His hot, hard organ probed between her thighs. His fingers teased over her slick folds, before he gripped his shaft and guided it inside her.
Elena let out a guttural moan at the feel of him sinking inside her. Her entire body felt as though it were on fire, and everywhere he touched had her shivering, flashes of hunger careening through her.
Michael sank deeper and deeper, then withdrew only to thrust back inside. Elena's entire body shook. He placed one of her legs on his shoulder, kissing her ankle as he continued to work in and out of her at a quickened pace.
"Oh God, Elena, I'm so close."
"Don't stop!" she keened.
She was right on the edge, her body waiting for that final stroke that would send her flying. Michael slid her leg back down to his side, and gripped both her hips in his. His mouth came down hard on hers, kissing her with feral need. Without warning, release ripped through her. She cried out against Michael's lips, and he grunted with male satisfaction, encouraging her all the more. He rode her through her climax, shouting out his own release, and shuddering over her.
He collapsed to the side of her, pulling her to him.
"'Twas magical," Elena whispered, still shocked that love making could be so beautiful.
"Mayhap I had it wrong that you were a princess—I think 'tis more than you are a fairy."
The next morning, Elena stretched wide on the bed. She felt gloriously wonderful and alive. And cold.
She shivered and pulled the thick coverlet up over her naked body. Yes, naked. She grinned with secret glee and pure joy. She and Michael had made love nearly all night. She rolled onto her side and reached for Michael's warmth, but the bed was cold and empty, only an indentation where he had lain.
"He left already, my lady, some time ago, I'd say."
Elena opened her eyes to see Beth standing at the end of the bed. Her eyes looked wild, and her lips were curled in an evil grin. Her clothing was rumpled as was her hair as if she had not slept.
"What is the matter?" Elena asked, sitting up and clutching the blanket to her breasts. What had gotten into her loyal friend?
"What is the matter?" Beth mocked, then laughed loudly, clutching her hands to her face. "I've waited so long to get you alone," she said through bared teeth.
Beth turned on her heels and placed the wooden slab in place on the door—impeding anyone from entering.
"What are you doing?" Alarm filled Elena. This was not the Beth she knew. This was someone different, someone wholly evil. Had it taken this long for the knock on her head to mess with Beth's sanity?
Beth whirled around, her eyes wide and blazing with hatred. "Do you know who I am?"
Elena's brow furrowed in confusion. "Beth."
"Aye, Beth. But Beth who?" She placed her hands on her hips.
"I know not what you mean." Elena shook her head and moved to get out of bed, but Beth lunged toward her.
"Do not think of it. You sit right there." Her lady's maid whirled around and picked up a poker from the fireplace, holding it like a sword toward Elena.
Oh, Dear God! She's gone mad!
"You never once asked me who I was."
Asked who she was? Some of her ladies had come with her from Ireland, and the others had served Kent's previous wives—Beth being one of the latter.
Elena shook her head. "I do not understand. What have I done that has made you so angry with me?"
"Chauncey was my cousin," Beth said with a fake pout and narrowed eyes.
"Your cousin." Elena chewed her lip and mulled the words. Had Beth spied for her deceased husband?
"You needn't have feared much from me, because I hated him. He was a cruel bastard and his wife before you a darling saint who he sent up to Heaven far before her time. I thought you to be much like her. I thought you a saint. But you are no saint. You are a base, disgusting whore. When I saw how you scorned him, how you threatened all of our livelihoods with your immoral ways, your whoredom, I had to see that you were stopped."
"What are you talking about?" Elena looked around her. She needed some sort of weapon, something to fend Beth off. Her eyes alighted on the candlestick sitting on her nightstand. The candle had long since burned out. She could get to it, but she was so off balance with her belly growing larger. Would she get to it in time before Beth skewered her with the poker?
"Michael," Beth hissed.
"What has my husband to do with this?" She had to keep Beth talking. Perhaps someone would try to come to the door, and she could shout for help.
"You gave yourself to him. You risked all of our lives when you let him rut on you like a dog on a bitch."
Elena physically cringed. "'Twasn't like that at all." How dare Beth turn what beautiful things she and Michael shared into something so grotesque?
"I do not see it that way. You were a married woman. You went against God when you spread your legs for another man."
"Beth, my marriage was sacrilegious! Michael saved me."
"Michael saved me." Beth contorted her face in an ugly grimace. "Bloody well good he did. He saved you, but he nearly got the rest of us killed. Myself included!"
"No, Beth, 'twas not his fault. How could he know that Jon was evil? He tried to save us all from Kent. There was nothing you had to fear from him. Is it your head? Does it still pain you?" She reached out to Beth without thinking, hoping to comfort the woman in her distress. But Beth slapped her hand away. Elena pulled back at the sting.
Beth tilted her head back and laughed cruelly. "You are a naïve little twit. Kent was having you spied on—by more than one or two. I had thought you to know that."
"I always knew that. We were careful, and then we were safe at the abbey."
"Oh, aye, the abbey, where one of Michael's own men tried to kill you and nearly succeeded in killing me. He is a mighty savior. I daresay I wish he were my savior." Beth spoke sarcastically as she pranced around the room. "But no, I had no one to save me. Even your dear brother could do nothing for me, he was too late." The maid faced the banked hearth.
While Beth's back was turned, Elena grabbed the candlestick, wobbling only slightly, and thrust it beneath the coverlet.
Beth whirled around, but Elena kept her face blank. Instead she sought to distract her again with words. "Why can you not be happy now? I am sorry your cousin has passed, but there is nothing left to fear." Elena tried to catch Beth's gaze, but the woman refused to look her in the eye.
"Right you are again, my lady. I have nothing to fear now accept death. You want to know why I am in your room? I am here for revenge."
Elena gulped. "Revenge? Against what?"
"Aye. The man who your brother ruthlessly murdered was my brother."
"Jon?"
"No, you imbecile, Lawrence—Larry as his master called him."
"Larry." Her lips trembled, that was why she recalled the man's voice when he'd whispered to her. Whenever her husband took her, Larry always lurked somewhere nearby. As if he took pleasure in each wounding thrust.
"My beloved brother. He did not deserve to die that way."
"He tried to kill me."
"And you deserved it!" Beth screeched.
Elena shook her head. "No, Beth, I did not. Kent was cruel to me unti
l the end. I have done nothing but care for, love and honor the people of Kent and my family. I was good to you. I do not deserve any of this." Elena could feel herself losing her temper. It burned hot inside her and she wanted to throttle Beth for her backward thinking. But to lose her temper would only make the woman angrier.
"It does not matter. I will finish the job besides." Beth lunged at the bed with the poker, but Elena, who'd been waiting for such a move, rolled away just in time. Gripping the candlestick in hand, she thwacked Beth hard on the back of her head, before losing her own balance on the edge of the bed and falling off.
Her lady's maid slumped to the floor beside her, a smear of blood showing on her light hair.
"Forgive me," Elena said to the unconscious woman, feeling guilty for yet another head injury the woman should suffer from. "You will most likely have a headache when you wake, but your conscience will be clear of murder."
Pushing herself awkwardly to her feet, Elena rubbed the ache on her hip from where she'd landed. She walked over to the door and pulled up the board just as the door was shoved open. She lost her balance yet again and fell backward, landing with an, "Oof," on the floor.
"Oh, dear God, Elena!" Michael shouted. He reached down and pulled her to standing. "I am so sorry, my love! I had no idea you were standing there. I heard shouts and I came running. What has happened here?"
He peered over her shoulder, his gaze catching the prone woman on the floor.
"She attacked me."
Michael pulled her into his arms, pressed his lips to the top of her head. "I have failed you again."
"No, Michael, we had no knowledge she lurked in a menacing way. How could we?"
"I had cause to think—a look she gave."
Elena pulled back. "Me too, it was yesterday at our wedding, but it was so quick, I thought it a trick of my imagination."
"Aye, me too." Michael shook his head and called to a guard to come and take Beth to the Tower where she would be held for questioning. "Pray there are no others."
Knights of Valor Page 27