by Denise Lynn
He cupped her cheek, teasing her lips with his. ‘Easy. Take it easy.’
‘No.’ She curled her fingers into his shoulders. ‘It doesn’t hurt.’
She gasped as her release beckoned. ‘Please, Richard, please.’
He picked up the tempo, quickly finding the pace that made her toes curl. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, clinging to him as she felt herself fall, spiralling down to claim the release she so desperately needed.
Before her ragged breaths could ease, Richard stiffened, his body shaking as his own ragged groan raced against her cheek.
Isabella ran her fingers through his hair, whispering a teasing dare she hoped he’d not be able to ignore, ‘You will never be able to make me beg again.’
His shoulders shook with laughter and he rolled on to his side. ‘Wife, you are quite the bawdy temptress, aren’t you?’
She snuggled against him, not yet willing to let the inevitable distance come between them just yet.
Richard sighed and patted her hip. ‘I should go. You need to sleep.’
‘No.’ She reached up to place her hand against the side of his head. ‘Don’t leave me. Stay.’
‘But—’
Isabella placed a finger over his lips. ‘If this is all we are to share, then can we not share it fully? There is no reason for you to sleep elsewhere.’ At his raised brow, she continued, ‘I know what this is. I know full well that it is not a sharing of hearts. But, Richard, it is something, it connects us and is that not at least a thing to treasure?’
He clasped her hand and brought it to his lips. ‘Isabella, I fear your tender heart is going to suffer mightily for this, but I will stay with you...this night.’
Chapter Sixteen
As the aromatic scent of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg in the mince pies baking in the kitchen filled the keep Isabella couldn’t help but wonder if her family would celebrate Christmas in her absence this year. She hoped they would. And she prayed they’d be merry and thankful in honour of the season.
‘What do you think he’ll say?’ Isabella helped Hattie wrap another garland of pine boughs around one of the support beams in the Great Hall.
The older woman shrugged. ‘Once the deed is done, will it matter?’
‘I suppose not.’
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen the piles of freshly cut evergreen, ivy and holly stacked in the hall as he’d left this morning. She’d had the men put the piles near the door intentionally so Richard would see them. That way, if he had any complaints, he could voice them before she placed them about the keep. He hadn’t said a word, hadn’t confronted her about her plans, so surely he’d not been averse to her decking the keep with the greenery.
Marguerite’s laughter as she trapped Conal beneath a sprig of mistletoe hanging from ribbons over the archway of a small alcove at the far side of the hall made Isabella smile.
It was nice seeing the two of them so at ease and so obviously enjoying each other’s company. She couldn’t help the twinge of jealousy over what they shared, especially knowing she would never have the type of marriage she’d longed for. Richard had made that quite clear.
‘Child.’ Hattie touched her arm. ‘It isn’t my place, but it needs saying. He has been through much. Give him time.’
Isabella turned her attention back to the evergreens. ‘An entire life would not be enough time for him.’
Hattie snorted and shook her head. ‘My lady, do not be blind.’
‘It has nothing to do with not seeing. He has made it perfectly clear that I am little more than bait.’
‘There was a puppy once.’
Uncertain where the older woman was headed with this sudden turn in the conversation, Isabella asked, ‘A puppy?’
‘Hmm, yes. A deep dark-brown, floppy-eared puppy that the young master so badly wanted as his own. He would sneak out to the stables every chance he had to hold and play with the pup. She was his entire life. To him the sun rose and set on that gangly-legged ball of fur. I don’t remember how many times I had to go out there, intending to chase him in for the evening meal, only to find him fast asleep with the puppy in his arms.’
Having had many litters of puppies at Warehaven, Isabella understood the young boy’s devotion to the playful animal. There was nothing easier to fall in love with than a soft, warm puppy.
‘His father made certain to give that puppy away first.’
‘No.’ Isabella groaned at the heartlessness of such an action—by his own father no less. ‘That was cruel.’
‘Yes, it was, but his lordship would not listen to reason. He was determined to teach the boy a hard lesson about life. The boy cried himself to sleep for countless nights afterwards.’
‘The only lesson he could have learned from that was not to care overmuch for something.’ Her heart ached for the little boy he’d been.
Hattie stopped, a branch of evergreen clutched in her hands, to stare at her. ‘Exactly, my lady.’
Isabella frowned. Could that explain his reluctance to let himself care for her?
‘It was a lesson reinforced by his first wife and then again by losing Lisette.’
‘But, Hattie, I am going nowhere.’
‘You can’t be certain of that, can you? What happens when your family comes for you, Lady Isabella?’ The woman turned back to hanging the evergreens, adding softly, ‘And what happens to him?’
Isabella could not say what her father would do when he arrived. He might consider the marriage binding and be content to leave her at Dunstan. But he might also still be angry enough to take offence to the entire situation—the kidnapping, the marriage—and escort her back to Warehaven.
What would happen to Richard then?
She gazed around the Great Hall. Dunstan Keep was by no means a large dwelling. It would fit inside Warehaven with room to spare. There were no decorative paintings on the walls, just a simple limewash. Even the tapestries were worn. The furniture was serviceable, not cushioned for comfort.
But it was a sturdy keep, built to last many generations. When she’d first arrived it had been immediately obvious that it cried out for a caring touch. And now it was a dwelling to be proud of, a safe harbour in which to raise a family.
What would happen to it if she left? Would Richard let it fall into ruin? And if he had no one to argue with him, no one to set his temper flaring, would he let himself fall into ruin, too?
No. She couldn’t imagine Richard moping about the keep alone. He would direct his full attention to his ships and warehouses. After all, isn’t that what her father did whenever her mother went to visit her family without him?
She frowned, confused by her own questions and her inability to answer them. Even though her father became rather morose during her mother’s absence and he spent far too much time at the docks, he had always known that his wife would soon return to him.
‘What dark thoughts are swirling round inside your head, Isabella?’
Ice-cold fingers stroked the side of her neck, making her jump. Surprised to see him back at the keep so early, she looked up at Richard to ask, ‘What brings you back from the warehouses so soon?’
‘The warehouses?’ He turned to point towards the doors. ‘What good is a pile of greenery without a Yule log?’
She peered around him to see a good-sized oak tree trunk resting alongside her piles. ‘Ah. You didn’t have to do that.’
‘I know I didn’t have to, but I am not such a black-hearted knave that I wish to ignore Christmas.’
‘Please, Richard, that is not what I meant.’ She rested a hand on his chest. ‘I didn’t think that of you.’
‘Even armies pause for Christmas, Isabella. There is no need to be so serious.’ He covered her hand with his own. ‘I was but teasing you.’
&n
bsp; His heart beat steady beneath her palm. The heat of his gaze flowed into her, bringing to life memories of the night three long weeks ago when he’d truly made her his wife. Suddenly shy and embarrassed for no obvious reason other than the visions her mind created, she looked away.
He leaned closer to whisper against her ear, ‘Isabella, it is easy to tell where your mind has now flown.’
She shivered with longing from the warmth of his breath and the deep, raspy tone of his voice. Uncertain how to respond, she reluctantly pulled her hand free, took a deep breath and stepped away.
His soft chuckle at her withdrawal only flustered her more.
‘My lady, do you think you and your husband can finish this?’
Relieved by Hattie’s timely interruption, Isabella took the greenery the older woman held out to her and looked at Richard. ‘If he agrees to lend me a hand, I’m sure we can.’
At his nod, Hattie sighed. ‘Good. I want to see if they need a hand in the kitchen.’
Isabella knew Hattie was making up an excuse to give her and Richard time together. They didn’t require any additional help in the kitchen. She and the cook had spent many hours going over the menus for the holiday feasting. More than enough extra help had been put to work days ago.
But she appreciated the woman’s gift of time with her husband and without a word watched her leave the Great Hall.
Richard climbed the ladder to wrap the upper portion of the support beam with the evergreen, while she went and retrieved some more branches and ribbons to hold them in place.
When he finished, he climbed down from the ladder, only to watch as the rope of evergreens slid down the beam.
Isabella laughed and sprinted up the ladder, teasing him, ‘If you only knew how to tie a ribbon, my lord, the decorations might stay in place better.’
He handed her the end of the greenery, shaking his head. ‘Well, that answers that question.’
Busy securing some holly into the ribbon, she asked, ‘And what question would that be?’
As she reached up as high as she could, he grasped her legs to keep her steady on the ladder. ‘Now I know who painted the hall.’
She looked down at him. ‘Who did you think did it?’
‘I wasn’t certain.’ He slid his hands beneath the skirt of her gown to wrap his fingers around her thighs. ‘But now I know it was someone with soft skin.’ He brushed a thumb across the back of her leg, making her gasp, before sliding one hand higher. ‘And the most enticing pair of legs I’ve ever had the pleasure of caressing.’
She lost her balance on the ladder and, with an undecipherable squeak, fell into his waiting arms.
‘Richard!’ Isabella batted at his shoulder. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’
He nuzzled her ear. ‘No. Just distracting you.’
She heard the twitters and laughs of amusement from the others in the Great Hall and batted at him again. ‘Put me down.’
To her surprise he did so without arguing. Straightening out the skirt of her gown, she reminded him, ‘There is much to be done before the Angel’s Mass tonight.’
‘Yes, there is.’ He nodded in agreement. ‘We need to eat.’
Of course he would think of that before all else.
‘Then I need to find the remains of last year’s Yule log so we can light the new one later.’
She was actually a little surprised that he thought of that considering how miserable the months in between had been for him.
He glanced around the hall. ‘Tables and benches still need to be arranged for tomorrow’s feast. And you will need time to get dressed before we head down to the church.’ He paused, then asked, ‘Did I forget anything?’
‘Richard, catch.’ Conal tossed something at him.
Richard caught it and smiled. ‘Oh, yes, I see that I did forget something.’
He held a beribboned sprig of mistletoe over her head and graced her with a familiar half-smile that never failed to set her heart fluttering. ‘My lady?’
She leaned against him and tipped her head back for his kiss, sighing when his lips covered hers.
When their kiss ended, he kept his arms around her, holding her against his chest. Content to remain in the circle of his embrace, Isabella closed her eyes. She had no mistaken notion that this easiness between them would last beyond the holy season. But she was determined to enjoy it for as long as possible.
His embrace tightened around her and he kissed the top of her head, before releasing her. ‘I have a log to find and the men should be here soon, they can help you with the tables and benches.’
* * *
While Isabella had found the three holy masses comforting, she was glad they were done traipsing back and forth to the church in the village. The walk at midnight for the Angel’s Mass had been cold, but the sky had been clear and myriad stars had twinkled brightly. The warmth of her husband’s hand clasped securely around hers had made the frigid air less biting. After being kept awake by Richard’s undivided attention most of the night, the dawn trip for the Shepherd’s Mass had been exhausting. The church bells had called them to the Mass of the Divine Word just as she’d been directing the placement of the last trestle table for the Christmas feast.
Everyone on Dunstan had gathered at the keep after the last church service to partake in the Christmas feast. With so many people in the Great Hall, at times the din was near deafening.
But she was pleased that everyone seemed to be enjoying the merriment. The cook and her helpers had outdone themselves. Everything, from the deer, half-a-dozen geese roasted in butter and saffron until golden, partridges and a spitted pig, were done to perfection. To Richard’s amusement, Isabella had moaned in pleasure when the meats seemed to melt in her mouth. A perfect blend of shredded meat, fruit and spices, the mince pie had been as near to heaven as she could imagine.
One long side table, laden with other baked goods and sweets, supplied by Dunstan’s baker, and wheels of cheese brought up from a warehouse near the wharf, was so overflowing with food that Isabella feared the wooden legs would snap beneath the weight.
Ale and wine flowed freely, but she’d confined her choice of drink to the contents of the wassail bowl. The spiced and sweetened ale was warm and gentled her normal dislike of noisy, crowded places.
At Warehaven she was free to bolt when it seemed the walls were closing in around her. But not here. Not now. As odd as it still sounded to her ears, she was Dunstan’s lady and she’d not shame herself, or Richard, by running from her duties.
With the meal now over, the men had helped clear the tables and rearranged them for games now taking place. While some took chances dicing, others played chess and all appeared to be enjoying the company of their friends and neighbours.
She leaned back in her chair, which had been placed near the burning Yule log. After much searching, Richard had found the leftover piece of log from last year’s fire buried under the small bed in his private chamber. They’d used it to start this year’s fire, which from the size of the current log would easily last until the twelfth night.
A giggle from Marguerite seated nearby, next to Conal, caught Isabella’s attention. She smiled softly at the couple. They were lost in each other’s company.
Richard leaned closer as he took a seat next to her, to ask, ‘What are you smiling about?’
She nodded towards Marguerite and Conal. ‘How long have they been together?’
Richard reached over to clasp his hand over hers, laughing softly at her curiosity. ‘Ever since Conal was old enough to realise she was a girl.’
‘And this arrangement is fine with Marguerite?’
‘You don’t approve?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t say that. I simply wonder if he knows what a good woman he has.’
‘I’ve never asked
.’
‘Oh.’
Richard squeezed her hand. ‘He’s not just my friend. Conal is my right arm on this island. I’m not going to risk that by asking questions that are none of my business.’
She understood his position, because right now, there were many questions she wanted to ask him about Conal, about Richard’s father, about her husband’s life growing up, but wished not to risk losing his good mood. So she bit her tongue to keep them from spilling forth.
‘Go ahead.’
She looked at him. ‘Go ahead, what?’
‘From the pensive frown on your face, you want to ask me something. So, go ahead.’
‘No, it’s nothing important.’
His long, drawn-out, exaggerated sigh made her want to laugh. Instead, she explained, ‘You have made this day very pleasant for me and I simply wish not to ruin it. My questions will wait.’
‘They’re that bad that you feel it needful to wait until I haven’t made your day a pleasant one?’
‘That’s not what I meant.’
‘Then, ask.’
Obviously he wasn’t going to let this go. So, Isabella chose what she hoped would be the least dangerous one to ask. ‘Do you think Conal cares enough for Marguerite to marry her?’
‘Are you asking me if he loves her?’
Well, yes, she was, but she knew Richard’s thoughts on that subject. ‘No. Just wondering if he cares for her.’
‘Of course he cares for her. Isn’t that obvious?’
‘To who? Not to me. I wasn’t certain they had any relationship until yesterday when they helped me decorate the hall.’
‘You haven’t heard any of the island’s gossip?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, I, too, have spent my entire life on an island. I learned long ago not to listen to gossip.’
‘Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I don’t know how it works on Warehaven, but the only way to know what’s going on here is through gossip.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘Quite serious. For example, how much gold will you gain if a child isn’t born before summer?’