by Rizzo Rosko
But young women did not love old men like him—he was nearing thirty-seven already—but he remained confident Marianne could become affectionate to him. Perhaps this spectacle of hers was proof of that.
“Nay my dear, as much as your fury amuses me I cannot say that I have been keeping a mistress since your arrival.”
Her eye twitched and fists remained clenched, she tried to pull away but he refused to release her, an act that angered her further.
She yanked her wrists with more strength and he let her free. “So you do have a former lover in this household.” ‘Twas not a question.
William sighed. “Whether or not I have kept a mistress is none of your concern. But I am no longer entertaining her.”
“What is her name?”
“Why?”
“I wish to drown her.”
William laughed again.
Marianne stamped her foot again. “There is nothing amusing about this!”
She tried to strike him again but again he captured her wrists and, despite her struggles, continued to laugh.
Marianne could only fight and fume until he abruptly pulled her chest to his. “This is why I agreed to wed you,”
Her eyes searched his for some island of sense in the sea of her confusion. “What are you speaking of? You agreed to wed me because I had Archer put a blade to your throat.”
“Nay, I agreed to take you as my wife because I love your spirit.”
Her body went lax at his claim, then, just as quickly, she tried to push away from him, her fury returning full force. “You’re mad!”
“Be that as it may,” he released one of her wrists and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her hips closer to his. “I enjoy it.”
He also enjoyed touching her and could feel her through the clinging fabric of her damp robe. ‘Twould be easy to remove it, and while he would not do anything harmful to her, ‘twould also be a simple matter of making her want him. She was young and inexperienced, a little patience on his part and she would beg him to take her.
As if suddenly aware of how loose her robe was becoming with their strange dance, her hair dripping onto his dry clothes, Marianne tensed.
“You are getting wet.” She said.
He dipped his mouth to her ear. “I hardly care.”
“Why?” She asked, swallowing as the hot breath brought a shiver and gooseflesh to every inch of her skin.
His mouth did not leave her ear, and she could scarcely stand while his roaming hands discovered every mound on her body. “Why do I not care for my clothes?”
“No! Why are you behaving like this?”
He removed his mouth from her tingling ear but his face remained close to hers, and even though he loosened his grip on her she made no attempt to escape.
“I seemed to have taken a liking to brash women,” He released her other wrist and trailed a finger down the opening of her robe, exposing her breast to the chill air.
He doubted the cold air had anything to do with its pleasing peak.
She could have lifted her hand to slap his fingers away, but he knew she wanted to see where those roaming fingers would lead her. ‘Twould not take much to show her.
Apparently satisfied that she would put up no fight, he slid a finger under, over, and around her bare breast before teasing the nub peaking at the center with his thumb.
Her feet swayed and breath hitched, and William smiled.
Her eyes drifted shut, there was not a thought in her head now.
He stepped closer, his other hand sliding across the smooth skin hidden beneath her robe. For a moment he was so focused on the sensation of her against his fingertips that her rambling words did not reach his ears.
When they did he covered her mouth with his, because she was not speaking at all, but was moaning under his touch.
***
Marianne did not know what was happening to her but she liked it and did not wish it to stop. The swelling between her legs returned and the pulsing became the throbbing heartbeat that kept her breathing, kept her alive.
All she wanted was for him to continue inflicting this wonderful torture on her. When she felt this good she could not find blame to place on him for wishing her to his bed if he would feel only a fraction of what he was causing her to feel.
Blindly she threw her arms around his neck and welcomed his tongue into her mouth when he kissed her.
It felt different from the last time his tongue visited her in that church, and not in the unpleasant surprise way it had been before either. ‘Twas soft and warm and wet, and she found herself enjoying having it touch her own tongue and moving against hers.
When he pulled his mouth away she was coherent enough to open her eyes and feel the hand that had once been teasing, now gripping the whole of her breast.
“Is this what you meant when you wanted to apologize for not seeing to your promise?” She asked, a hint of a smile at her lips.
“Not quite, but it will do for me if it will for you.” He pressed himself closer to her, and she felt the hardness at his thigh.
Like the crack of a whip her body, which was once so full of wanting and lust she thought she would overflow, suddenly became tense with fear.
She could not do this.
William saw the look on her face and he too was pulled from the lusty fantasy. “You do not approve?”
She tried to back away but could not, and he refused to move and give her any space.
Marianne clutched his shoulders. She could not look him in the eye. He was her husband and she his wife. ‘Twas nothing wrong with what he wished to do to her, what she had nearly wanted him to do to her, yet she could not bring herself to allow it. “You do not love me,”
He professed to love not her but her brash spirit and reckless behavior. The very thing her father had been trying to stamp out of her for as long as she could remember. ‘Twas not good enough.
William opened his mouth to reply, then shut it just as quickly. He said nothing.
Marianne pushed away from him, righting her robe as she moved as far away from him as possible before she grabbed the comb and returned to furiously combing out her knotted wet hair.
His words, especially the words not said, were like a blow. She could not bring herself to look at him. And even while she sat on the other side of the room, pretending to focus solely on her hair, he still would not speak, and somehow the silence was worse than if he had decided to rage around the room for her teasing treatment of him.
She enjoyed his touch, and she enjoyed his voice when he took the time to speak to her, but if he did not love her then what would their act of loving each other really be but emotionless fornication?
She was lonely, but not that lonely.
She tensed when his hands found her shoulders, she had not realized that he was nearing her. Unlike their first night under the same roof, she did not scream and leap away when he kissed her neck. The act was so tender she could almost trick herself into believing that he did hold feelings for her.
“We will share a bed, but tonight will be the last night that I do not make you mine. Tomorrow we shall eat our breakfast together, and after I see to my own responsibilities we can talk privately if you wish.”
She swallowed. One day to try to make him love her? ‘Twas impossible.
“Talk. About what?”
He rubbed her shoulders. “It matters not to me. We can discuss anything you like.”
Marianne put away her comb and thought it over. It was an opportunity to get to know him as more than just the Earl of Graystone and the husband she occasionally saw, but as the man who defended her against her father and kept his promise when he did not have to.
She would at least know who would bed her tomorrow night. Perhaps that man would even be her friend. He was being generous with her, he could have offered her much less. He could give her nothing but misery. He could take her right now.
“Very well, that sounds acceptable.” She nearly winced with
her words. How formal she sounded to her own husband.
“Good,” He replied.
Marianne heard the shuffling of clothes and turned around, only to cover her eyes and spin in the other direction.
“You’re naked!”
“Yes, I am preparing for bed.”
“But, but—”
“We are husband and wife, and I am growing weary of sleeping in my night clothes. Stop being cowardly and look at me.”
With a spine so stiff she thought it would crack, Marianne turned around and did look. She would not allow him to call her a coward.
She refused to look below his neck and kept her eyes on his face, however. The swine was smirking again, but he didn’t move.
He was waiting.
Without meaning to or with her consent, her eyes traveled downwards.
The light of the fire, the only source of light, danced across his body and bathed him in an orange glow. She could see every ripple of muscle and every light colored hair curling on his chest. Thin, faded scars from past battles and training games crisscrossed in random places along his naked skin, and the water that seeped through his clothes now glistened against his chest in the firelight.
The sight made her smile with the simplicity of it. ‘Twas nothing horrifying hidden under his clothes, nothing that should cause her to fear.
Aside from the organ between his legs—which she refused to look at—and the lack of large breasts, he was rather similar to herself. Arms, legs, knees, and toes. Nothing frightening.
Marianne relaxed her body. There was no sin in this. She was simply looking at the chest of a man who happened to be her husband. No sin at all.
The golden hair on his chest circled his dark nipples before traveling down into a fine trail that led to his—
Marianne looked away again, heat flooding her face to the point that she thought she would sweat blood. At his amused chuckle she returned her eyes to their former position, though the heat still assaulted her face.
Not a coward. She was not a coward.
The blond hairs became darker, though not as dark as she was down there, and within them nestled his … Marianne was unsure of how to describe it. It was simply there. Never before had she seen that area of a man, or any naked area of a man. Even when she walked in on the servants loving they were always fully clothed, and while her inexperience prevented her from deciding whether or not she liked what she saw, she knew that she would have to get used to that part of him as well, and soon.
The hair became light again as it traveled down his legs, legs that were so much larger than hers, skin stretched with muscle, his feet alone were frightening in their size.
Her eyes traveled over him again, quicker this time, and suddenly she felt as though she were not getting the entire portrait.
“Turn around,”
He raised a brow. “You wish me to bare my back to you?”
“Aye,”
“May I ask why?”
The heat that had fled her face when she accustomed herself to his body returned with fever. She could not explain why she wanted to see his other side, but ‘twas an urge that would not be ignored.
Her spine stiffened as she fought back the irritation that threatened to bubble to the surface. If he was so eager for her to see him naked then what was his business in making her feel awkward for wishing to see all of him?
She was at a loss for words when William shook his head and did as she bid. “Very well, I never knew women to be interested in that part of a man’s anatomy.”
“Perhaps you have as much to learn as I.”
She meant naught by the words, but his curt reply awoke her curiosity.
“Perhaps,”
She ignored him. The sight of his bare back and bottom made her salivate and forget any previous indignation. Oh yes, she enjoyed this part of his anatomy very much.
“Do you like it?”
“Aye,” She immediately said, unable to keep herself from staring.
“Good,” abruptly he turned and Marianne was unable to fight back her gasp of horror. She had yet to finish with him!
“Because ‘tis now my turn to see you,”
She clutched her robe tighter to herself. “Me? But you have already seen all there is to see.”
He shook his head, invaded her by standing so close for what seemed to be the one hundredth time that day and pulled her close. “Nay, I have only felt you, and not all of you at that. I would like to see what I have been touching under your robe and through your gown all this time.”
Chapter Seven
William hardly knew how he survived the night without losing control and grabbing her, pulling her to him and taking her like his desperation demanded. Though he held himself back for a reason he hardly recalled, today he kept a close eye on the hips of his wife as she walked around the gardens.
He promised her this time and he would make good on his word, no matter how wonderfully difficult the sizzling between his legs made it.
He acknowledged the improvements in the herbs and vegetables but they remained behind his current thoughts, visions of her standing naked before him dominated him.
She had turned red last night while he watched. He kept one hand on his chin as if he studied some piece of art to be purchased. To her credit, she did not flinch from his eyes or shriek at him when he commanded her to turn around so that he might see her backside like she had commanded him.
When he saw her rounded bottom, he knew what it was that she had been so fixated on when she looked at him, though he doubted he was as pleasing to the eye.
She faced him again, her eyes widening comically at his cockstand. He did not try to hide it. Like always, she raised her nose to greet the air at their silent challenge.
Delight burst brightly inside him, like the sun shooting through an open window when she did not leap away when he touched her smooth shoulder. The same shoulder he’d kissed on her first night in his chamber. He kissed her mouth and her shoulder twice since that incident, and decided then that she was no longer at risk of flying off her feet when he touched her.
His fingers slid down to her breast and touched her budding nipple. He had sighed his pleasure with her small gasp. Heat radiated from her body and towards his, feeding a carnal desire that only grew hungrier. His fingers cupped her chin, traveled up the smooth flesh of her cheek and threaded her hair. Her hands braved their way up his chest, her own smaller fingers curiously tangling into the rough hair of his chest.
He was rock hard, had not realized his breathing had become labored until he tried to calm it. His eyes left her fingers and found her grey orbs. Standing so close, he found flecks of blue hidden within, like sky trying to break free from the storm clouds.
He smirked at the fitting description. She too tried had to break free. Indeed, she’d staged his kidnapping to break her father and Ferdinand.
He looked at her face, which glowed with building lust under his touch. No trace foreshadowed the passion he wanted her to feel. Passion for him.
He’d just admitted to not loving her, and he knew where she stood on that subject. If he were to build her lust higher and higher only to take her, she would surely hate him when her wits returned from their holiday between her legs. He did not want that, the very thought brought a sinking feeling into his chest.
William was going to have her. Soon. That had already been decided for the both of them the day he first laid eyes on his infuriated wife. Yet, he was a knight, and he would honor his word. Ah, but when he did have her, she would purr in contentment when the loving was over.
Anger flared from within, directed at himself. Any man could touch her like that and the reaction would be exactly the same. She did not want him, and when he stepped away from her, reached for his clothes and dressed, her face twisted in horror.
As if suddenly aware of her nudity, she covered her breasts with her hands, searched for her robe on the floor and snatched it to cover the rest of her. “What are y
ou doing?”
He could not bring himself to look at her. He had believed that if he so much as glanced in her direction he would abandon his wits and do something they would later regret.
He dressed with little concern for his appearance and thought of a lie. “‘Tis late, and there is still much work to be done. Tomorrow you will show me these improvements you have made and, as promised, we shall spend time together.”
“Oh.”
The small sound startled him, and despite himself he looked at her, though she refused to look back. “Are you displeased?”
She shook her head, clutching her robe around herself with both hands. “Nay, ‘tis just that…”
He waited, but she seemed unable to say anything. He left her so that he might sleep painfully in his solar. As sleepless hours crept by, he reminded himself that if he was patient, their loving would be so much more than a night of lust. She would be his forever, just as she had made him hers on their wedding day.
“My lord?”
William shook his head, clearing his thoughts and returning to the garden. How could she keep her reactions so polite and calm when he could think of naught else but her pliant skin? He envied her.
“Forgive me, you were saying?”
“I asked you of your morning meal.” She huffed, her arms crossed.
The sight brought a twitch to his lips, and he crossed his own arms in mocking fun. “It was served on time and hot. You are a much better chatelaine than I would have thought.”
“You thought I would not be?”
He shook his head. “Again, forgive me, but on the day you vowed to see to the affairs of my household, ‘twas difficult to…” He thought of the proper words to use without harming her feelings, but none would come.
Her arms clenching tighter around her bosom, narrowed eyes told him that she had supplied words of her own. “Take my claim seriously?”
He chuckled. “With your temper ‘tis not easy to take any part of you seriously.”
Her body shook, face set in a deep scowl, like she would burst with rage, and he waited eagerly to see if such a thing were possible. To his surprise, she laughed.