Fully naked, he set out to tour the room, starting to snuff out the candles. Morag halted him. ‘No. Leave them burning.’ She pushed aside the covers and got out, her bare toes curling against the cold floor.
Navarro grew still where he stood, bent over the oak chest by the narrow window that had been covered with a thick fur pelt against the winter frosts. Slowly, he straightened and turned to face her. His brows rose in an unspoken question.
Morag took a deep breath, and then she crossed her forearms beneath her breasts and lifted the nightgown over her head. Standing bare before him, she released her grip on the garment, discarding it to float down to the floor behind her.
‘This is what my marriage to Stenholm was like.’ She swept one hand along her torso to indicate the fading bruises that mottled her skin. ‘The only loyalty I owe him is not letting the world know that for three years I suffered at the hands of a monster disguised as a man.’
Navarro took one long stride toward her. A growl of fury rumbled in his chest.
‘No.’ Morag stopped him with a raised palm. ‘Wait. I want you to hear the rest of it.’ She swallowed then fastened her gaze upon his thunderous face, forcing herself to look at him as she revealed the extent of her suffering and shame. ‘Stenholm had a preference for men, but he wanted an heir. He thought that perhaps with my slim hips and lean body, he could pretend that I wasn’t a woman.’
She brought her hand up to her shorn locks. ‘I never had a fever. He ordered me to cut my hair, to help him make believe I was a boy.’ Anger at the injustice welled inside her, and her voice grew harsh. ‘It didn’t work, and when he couldn’t manage the physical reaction needed for procreation, he blamed me. He hit me until I fell into a stupor. Then he would sneak out and find a man to copulate with. Before I arrived, he used to torment William, forcing the boy, but I made him stop by threatening to expose him. After that, he found men who were willing partners in his nightly trysts.’
Morag closed her eyes. The shame of the confession heated her skin. ‘When I became alarmed last night upon seeing your naked flesh, it had nothing to do with your...proportions. It was a cry of revelation. Finally, I understood what had driven Stenholm into such a rage when the piece of flaccid flesh between his legs failed to react when he ordered me to touch him intimately.’
‘You’d never seen a man hard with lust before?’
‘No.’ Morag blinked her eyes open and stole a look at his face. ‘I’m not a nobleman’s daughter. My father was a poor scholar. I never had to bathe visitors at his house.’
Navarro was watching her intently, his dark brows drawn together in thought. ‘Last night, you flinched from my touch.’
‘Aye.’ Morag drew a deep breath. Apprehension filled her, as if she were setting out to the stormy seas in a flimsy vessel. ‘The bruises are tender. The slightest pressure on my skin hurts. Most of the time, I can control my reaction, but last night my senses were so alert that the pain made me wince.’
‘It was not a sign of fear?’
‘No.’ She met his stern gaze, and the heat in his eyes wrapped around her, drawing her closer. ‘I stopped fearing you when you kissed me in the bath. You could have crushed me, but you didn’t. You pulled me near, and then you waited, until I invited you to deepen the intimacy. It made me realize that you wanted to be accepted into our union rather than ram your way into it with force.’
‘And now?’ His husky voice lingered like a caress. ‘Am I welcome?’
‘Yes,’ Morag whispered. ‘My senses have awoken. I yearn to learn what the troubadours mean when they sing about the pleasures of the marriage bed.’ Tilting up her head to meet his scrutiny, she lowered the last of her defenses. ‘I want to be a true wife to you.’
Navarro moved to stand in front of her. He raised one hand to trace the curve of her jaw. His broad shoulders became a shield that protected her from the ugly past. ‘If I had known, I wouldn’t have allowed Stenholm such an easy death.’ His voice shook with fury. ‘I would have killed him slowly, dragging out the pain. With each blow, I would have made him pay for what he did to you.’
‘Stenholm is in the past. Now I want my future.’ With an artless honesty, Morag caught Navarro’s wrist by her cheek and turned her head to press a kiss on his callused palm. ‘Show me.’ She guided his hand to cup her bare breast. ‘Show me how it can be between a man and a woman.’
He bent his head, as if bowing before her. At first Morag didn’t understand his intention. When his warm lips caught her nipple and closed around it, a shiver shot up her spine, igniting once again the tension that had gripped her the night before.
She slid her hands into his ebony hair and tangled her fingers in the strands to hold him close. He fell down on one knee in front of her. Moving to her other breast, he tugged at it with his teeth, gently at first, then increasing the friction, until the pleasure made her cry out, a fevered sound of abandon.
‘Too much?’ he asked, glancing up at her.
‘No.’ Morag shook her head in a fierce denial. ‘Not enough.’
He lifted a hand to her puckered nipple, rubbed his fingertips over the moisture left by his mouth. ‘Your response fills me with pride that you are my wife, and with a gloating satisfaction that Stenholm wasn’t capable of taking his marital rights.’
Tenderness filled her. She imagined Navarro growing up, a bastard without a position, one half of his blood that of a hated enemy. Always on his guard, left to make his way by his strength and by his wits, having to accept the leavings of others.
She relished the fact that she could give all of herself to him, unsullied by another, could give him the lands and title he yearned, make him a man of property and position, give him a source of pride and, God willing, the sons that he longed for.
‘It is cold,’ she told him softly. ‘Perhaps we should get into bed.’
He studied he face. ‘I understand now why you dislike this room. If you prefer, we can retire to the chamber above.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Once we share this bed, Stenholm will be gone forever. He can no longer hurt me, and I’ll not let ugly memories sully my future.’
Navarro rose. The room tilted around Morag as in one fluid motion he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He looked down at her, candlelight flickering in his dark eyes. ‘I fear to touch you, in case I hurt your bruised skin.’
‘I’m not afraid,’ she told him. ‘Not more than any other bride,’ she added with a quick flicker of a nervous smile.
He lowered her on top of the blankets. Then he folded the bedding aside and lifted her up again to slip her beneath the cool, crisp linen sheets. She held her arms out to him, and he covered her body with his, resting his large frame on his forearms to protect her from being crushed by his weight.
‘You’ll hurt me, and it has nothing to do with my bruises,’ she said a little ruefully, thinking of the thick manhood that butted against her belly.
‘Aye.’ His steely-gray eyes smiled at her. ‘That is the way of nature. The price to pay for pleasure.’
‘Why is it that women have to pay the price, and men only get the pleasure?’
Navarro chuckled, the sound of it resonating in his chest. ‘I guess the pain is nature’s gatekeeper. It is there to insure that women won’t give themselves too easily to the first man who crosses their path.’
‘No.’ She brushed the back of her fingers along the edge of his jaw. A bristly coat of stubble dar
kened his bronzed skin. Her heart swelled with the need to give him everything she could, to make up for his lonely years, and to thank him for the peace he had brought into her world. ‘A wise woman knows it is better to wait for a man who is worthy of the gift,’ she told him.
‘Am I worthy?’ He leaned down to her, his mouth a breath away from hers.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘You are worthy.’
His mouth closed on hers, hot and hungry. She opened beneath the relentless assault, welcoming his tongue, stroking it with hers, guided by instinct, taking a measure of encouragement from the low growl that her bold response wrung from him.
When he lifted his head, a cry of loss and longing sounded in her throat but instantly fell silent as his lips found the edge of her collarbone and began a slow trail down. Over her breasts, lingering, tasting. Bringing the nipples to tight peaks that sent searing waves of pleasure to the secret place he had brought to life the night before.
Down and down he continued, across her stomach, detouring to the sensitive curve of her waist, one side first then the other, returning to the middle, not wavering from his path until he reached the auburn curls at the apex of her thighs. Rising to his knees on the bed, he lifted up her right leg, kissed the hollow behind her knee, and carried on, all the way along the inside of her thigh, until he reached the valley at the end.
Then he did the same on the other side. Arriving, but not staying. Taunting her with promises of what he had made her feel the previous night, but not making good on those promises. Still kneeling on the bed between her legs, he pushed her thighs wide open. With both hands, he spread apart her folds, not touching, only looking.
‘Are you ready for me?’ he asked.
Almost incoherent with the need that raged like madness through her, Morag rasped out a hoarse sound of agreement. Embarrassment burned her cheeks at the moisture she felt gathering between her legs.
And finally he touched her. Only a drifting contact, barely there, but it made her jolt on the bed.
‘You are ready,’ he murmured. ‘Warm and wanting. You need to be wet with desire. It eases the pain of my penetration, but it will not take the hurt away completely.’ Without further explanation, he positioned himself over her, one arm braced against the bed, the other guiding his manhood to enter her.
And then she felt it. A relentless pressure between her legs, pushing, stretching, opening her up as the thick shaft of flesh she had worried about inched into her. She tried to slide back on the mattress, to escape the pain that threatened, but Navarro lowered the full weight of his body on top of hers and gripped her hips to lock her in place.
His loins surged, and with one quick move he thrust himself deep inside her. Pain seared up her spine. Morag expelled a sharp cry but didn’t shrink away from him.
‘Hush. It’s over now.’ He scattered kisses on her face, on her neck and shoulders, once more rising on his forearms to ease his weight. ‘No more pain, I promise.’
‘It’s not really pain,’ she told him, intrigued by the new sensation. ‘Only a flash that came and went. More like a...fullness. I can feel you inside me, large and hot and hard and unyielding.’
‘That’s how it ought to be.’ He withdrew an inch then moved back. ‘Hot and hard and unyielding.’ He repeated the motion. ‘No pain?’
‘No,’ Morag told him. Discussing her intimate sensations with a man made her blush with embarrassment, and yet, when Navarro retreated all the way and then surged back into her, the jolt of pleasure that surged through her made her forget the awkwardness of the situation. She cried out, a frantic sound of passion.
‘Hot and hard,’ he muttered, and set to a steady rhythm of thrust and recoil that rocked her on the bed.
Without even realizing, Morag rose to meet him. She curled her legs around his lean hips to draw him deeper inside, to the place where that elusive sensation she had found last night was hiding in some recess they had yet to reach.
Despite the covers having long since slipped to the floor, their bodies grew slick with perspiration. The glow of the candles flickered around the room, adding to a sensation of frenzy as he increased his force and speed.
‘Morag,’ muttered. ‘My wife.’
When she didn’t reply, only moaned in breathless gasps timed to match his pounding thrusts, he demanded, ‘Say it. Stefan. Say my given name.’
‘Stefan.’ She rasped out the word as the magical tightening inside her caught her in its grip. Higher and higher she flew, like a lark soaring into the sky, and then she reached the sun and crested, only to plummet back to earth with great big pulsing waves that made her feel one with the man bedding her.
When she had almost fallen back down, almost returned to earth, Navarro bowed taut above her and thrust hard into her once more. As she felt the warm essence of life spurt out deep inside her, another set of ripples seized her, and in a mindless abandon she cried out his name once more.
‘Stefan,’ she shouted. ‘My husband.’
He shuddered over her, his face stark, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched. Too dazed by the force of completion, he collapsed on top of her, forgetting to spare a thought to her bruises, and then he pulled her to his chest in a fierce embrace.
‘Morag,’ he said against her neck. ‘My wife.’
Chapter Five
Morag pushed the needle through the last stitch of yellow piping on William’s new doublet and used her teeth to snap the thread. There. She held up the garment to admire the effect. The boy would be pleased. On the table beside her, a stack of her late husband’s linen shirts waited to be altered to fit over Navarro’s broader shoulders.
‘Who could have guessed that barely a month after the siege life would be so good?’ Alice sat next to Morag in front of the fire, darning a pair of striped brown hose worn through at the knees. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled with the unfamiliar task.
Morag gave in to the smile that tugged at her mouth. Haughty and stubborn in the past, dismissing all men who sought her favor, the tall beauty with Viking blood had finally fallen for Rolf, the dark knight whose eyes brimmed with laughter. Alice insisted upon seeing to his comfort, even if it meant giving up her battle to be treated as equal with the men. Last autumn, she’d gone out hunting with a bow and arrow, a skill in which she excelled. Now, she was embracing the requirement to learn cooking and needlecraft.
‘Yes.’ Morag picked up a shirt and inspected it, trying to decide if it should be kept, or cut up to expand others in better condition. ‘Who would have guessed that a defeat could turn into a victory?’
She lowered the garment into her lap, secretly pressing her hands against her belly. It was too soon to be certain, but instinct told her that in eight months’ time she would give Navarro his first child.
A blush heated her cheeks as her thoughts strayed to the nights they shared. As if to prove that he had truly conquered her, Navarro liked to fan the flames of her desire until she begged him for a release, and only then did he take her with the powerful thrusts that always brought her to a shattering climax.
Closing her eyes, seeking to recall the harsh lines of pleasure on his face at the moment of completion, Morag exhaled a dreamy sigh. ‘Who, indeed, would have guessed that life could be so good?’
* * *
Stefan tightened his arms around his wife, taking deep breaths to ease the pounding of his heart. Would it ever change? As the years went past, would his need for Lady Morag ever fade? Would the fier
ce sense of ownership that burned through his mind every time his body joined with hers ever be satisfied?
He wanted to tell her how he felt, but some frozen core inside him held him back, as though confessing to his tender emotions could somehow threaten him, make him vulnerable, like a plant might wither if exposed to too much sun. Instead, he used his body to make the declarations his mind refused to contemplate.
Stefan eased away from his wife, his skin slick in the aftermath of another explosive coupling. He threw his arm across his face to shield his eyes so he wouldn’t betray his dismay over the news he had to deliver.
‘I need to leave, and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.’
‘What?’ Lady Morag sprang up on the bed.
The covers fell from her body, and Stefan couldn’t resist the temptation to reach out and cup his hand over her breast.
‘Why?’ she asked, sounding worried, even as she tilted her head back to enjoy his caresses. ‘Where? When?’
Despite his dark mood, Stefan chuckled. ‘You certainly aren’t wasteful with words.’
‘Why do you need to go?’ Lady Morag sank down beside him again and tangled her fingers into the crisp hairs that covered his chest. ‘Can I come with you?’
No longer concerned to hide his expression of regret, Stefan slipped one arm beneath her and hauled her to sprawl across his chest. She had never told him that she held affection for him, but Stefan knew from a thousand small things that she did, and he wondered if she had a similar inkling of his devotion to her.
‘No, you can’t.’ He clasped his hands around her waist. ‘The king is gearing up for battle, and I must join him with my knights.’
‘But then...’ She arched her back to contemplate him. ‘You could die.’
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