Two things were immediately apparent.
He thought that she was asleep and was taking great pains not to disturb her; and he was drunk, as she had never seen him before.
He undressed himself with an effort. Watching him, the temptation grew strong to giggle. She quelled it, not certain that he would take it well in his present state. By the time he had finished, however, all desire to laugh had fled. He was, she decided, quite beautiful to behold. Warmth and excitement flooded her as she studied him and thought of how wonderful it felt when their bodies joined.
Finally, he doused the candles and climbed into bed beside her, lying stiffly on one side, staring up at the ceiling. Alinor lay still, as well, waiting for him to reach for her. When he did not, irritation surfaced. She was of half a mind to simply turn her back upon him and go to sleep. It occurred to her, however, that he had not sought to ease himself on her for many days and he would be in need.
She didn’t at all care for the way the maids had eyed him, all a flutter with excited giggles whenever he strode through the hall.
She scooted across the bed and cuddled against his side, placing her hand on his chest. He stiffened, but after a moment, he slipped an arm under her head and held her close. When he made no effort to do more, Alinor stroked his chest caressingly.
He caught her hand, held it a moment and finally released it.
Alinor lay fuming for a while, but she was not about to leave him ripe for the maids’ suggestive glances.
Pushing herself up on one elbow, she leaned over him and began to kiss her way down his chest to his belly. He sucked in a harsh breath, slipping his hand up her back to her shoulders in a gesture, she knew, was not intended as encouragement, but rather the opposite. She ignored it, reaching down with one hand in search of his cock as she continued to nibble a teasing trail of kisses down his belly. He jerked reflexively when her fingers closed around his engorged member.
Alinor smiled against his belly in satisfaction. He might pretend he had no interest in coupling with her-- and perhaps he did not—but his cock had a mind of its own.
Leaning down, Alinor kissed the rounded head. His cock jerked in her hand. A harsh groan rumbled through his chest. Alinor took his cock into her mouth.
Chapter Eleven
Wulfgar bolted upright, his fingers tangling in her hair, clutching and releasing, as if he couldn’t quite decide whether to hold her there or pull her away.
Lifting her head, Alinor gave him a look of innocence. "Did you not like it?"
Wulfgar stared at her a long moment, his heart thundering in his chest as if it would beat its way out, unable for several moments even to catch his breath to speak. "This is … not right."
Alinor studied him for a long moment, but there was nothing to suggest that he was repelled by what she had done and much to suggest otherwise. "You are my husband. It is right that we pleasure each other in whatever manner we wish."
When he did not contradict her, she lowered her head once more. Covering the head of his cock with her mouth, she sucked it. Groaning as if he were dying, Wulfgar fell back against the bed, digging his fingers into the bed linens. Entirely satisfied with his reaction, Alinor slipped his cock deeper into her mouth and then lifted her head, moving his turgid flesh in and out of her mouth as he moved inside of her when they coupled, trying to find a rhythm that would give him the most pleasure.
Every muscle in his body seemed tensed, as if he were struggling to resist the pleasure she gave him, and yet he could not be still as she held him tightly in her mouth, stroking him. Abruptly, she felt a change in him, a new restless, a new desperation and she realized that he was nearing his crisis. Heat rushed through her, pooling like liquid fire low in her belly. She renewed her efforts, moving faster, thrusting his hands away when he tried to push her away.
Sitting bolt upright with a growl, Wulfgar pulled her free and shoved her down on the mattress on her back. Alinor was too stunned to do more than gape at him when he grasped her legs, lifting her hips from the bed as he pulled her thighs apart and buried his face between them. When his mouth opened over her femininity, she cried out in surprise as an intense shaft of pleasure stabbed through her, making the muscles in her belly tighten almost painfully in response. She clutched his head as he stroked the sensitive petals of flesh with his tongue, the heat of his mouth, the slightly rough texture of his tongue sending lightening forks of ecstasy sizzling through her until she was thrashing mindlessly, moaning incessantly.
Within moments, she felt herself rushing toward her crisis. It burst upon her like a rupturing melting pot, so intensely she cried out. He lifted his head, a gleam of triumph and desire lighting his eyes as he dragged her toward him and impaled her on his distended flesh, thrusting hard, burying himself deeply and pulling away quickly to thrust again. Alinor lay spent, gasping at the waves of pleasure that rocked her with each deep penetration. Within seconds she felt her body gathering toward release once more. It caught her up in a more intense explosion even than before as she felt his cock jerk as he spilled his seed inside of her.
Bracing his hands on the bed on either side of her, he hovered above her for several moments, struggling to catch his breath and finally simply dropped sideways onto the bed beside her and lay unmoving except for the harsh breaths that continued to saw in and out of his chest.
Too weak to move, Alinor remained where she was for several moments, but the night air across her heated skin sent a shiver through her. With an effort, she moved closer to Wulfgar. Snuggling against his side, she draped an arm across his heaving chest, stroking him in appreciation.
He caught her hand after a moment. "Do not," he said through gritted teeth.
Alinor stiffened, felt hurt wash through her.
"I will die if you begin that again," he muttered irritably.
As his meaning sank in, Alinor tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a giggle.
"The thought of murdering your husband amuses you?" he asked stiffly.
Alinor nipped him teasingly and chuckled. "Surely it would be a pleasurable way to die?"
Growling, he rolled onto his side and shoved her onto her back. His expression was serious, but there was a teasing gleam in his eyes. "You are a wicked temptress, Alinor. You make no allowance for an aged husband."
Alinor gazed up at him for several moments and finally lifted a hand and caressed his lean cheek. "Rest then. I am weary also. I just … wanted to be sure you did not find someone else to assuage your needs."
He frowned, withdrawing. "I am no monk, Alinor."
Alinor came up on one arm, glaring at him. "You had best consider taking the vows. I will never deny you, but neither will I look the other way while you find sport elsewhere."
"You are my wife," Wulfgar growled. "Not my confessor."
"Yes! Your wife! You vowed to honor me, not to dishonor me by taking other women into your bed!"
"You are too young to understand the ways of the world," Wulfgar said with determined patience. "A man has needs."
"A woman also," Alinor responded tightly. "And, you are wrong, I do know the ways of the world, but I know also that my father has always been faithful to my mother. Would you not care if I were to look about for another stallion to ride?"
Wulfgar caught her arms in a bruising grip. "Has one caught your eye?" he growled furiously. "Only point him out to me and I will see to it that he is stallion no more, but gelding."
Alinor looked down, satisfied with his answer. "There is one ….It would be a great shame to geld so magnificent a beast, however."
His fingers tightened on her arms. "Name him."
Alinor looked up at him and realized immediately that it had been a mistake to tease him. There was murder in his eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. "A Saxon lord by the name of Wulfgar."
He didn’t believe her. She saw that at once.
"I will not hurt you, Alinor. But know this, your touch means death to any man who strikes your fancy. You are mine," he said thr
ough clenched teeth, "and I will not look away while you comport yourself like the ladies of loose morals and choose lovers at whim."
Alinor sighed impatiently. "On my honor, I desire no one but you."
He studied her a long moment and finally released her. "Women have no honor."
She glared at him angrily for several moments and finally lay back in a huff, turning her back to him.
He remained as he was, staring up at the canopy for so long that Alinor thought he might have gone to sleep. Finally, he rolled to face her, studied her rigid back for a moment and then pulled her back against him, wrapping an arm around her. "I have satisfied your needs?" he asked stiffly.
Alinor bit her lip, knowing he would be outraged if she laughed. "Very well, my lord," she responded finally, keeping her voice level with an effort.
* * * *
Claire d’Arrus was torn between shock, amusement and irritation when Alinor confessed what she had done. "Child! I despair that you will live long enough to learn to mind your tongue! What possessed you to sew a seed of doubt in the man’s mind? Men are simple creatures. They see only black and white and can not detect the fine shadings between. Next he will begin to doubt the child in your belly is his."
Alinor felt the blood rush from her face. "What have I done!"
Claire studied her angrily for several moments, but finally her face softened. "Nothing that can not be mended … if you will mind that wicked tongue of yours! When he has had time to assure himself that you are not looking around for someone with which to cuckold him, he will begin to trust again … it will be best if providence provides you with a child in his image that he can not deny …. If you have learned a lesson from it, then some good will have come of it."
Alinor looked at her doubtfully. "I am not at all certain that I will remember it the next time something pops into my mind. I do try …. But he had not touched me since we left England and I have seen the way the maids titter over him. I was afraid that he would turn from me altogether."
Sympathy filled her mother’s eyes. "It is a terrible thing to love someone so much. It does tend to lead to poor judgment, and, alas, yours was not as it should have been even before."
A blush crept up Alinor’s cheeks. "It is that obvious then?"
"To me, yes. To that great lout you married, obviously not, else he would not have been so quick to suppose you would look around for another … uh … stallion."
Vaguely relieved, Alinor was still not terribly happy. It occurred to her, however, that if she was jealous because she loved Wulfgar, that, surely, his implied a similar attachment. Unfortunately, her mother disabused her of the notion.
"It is a common mistake to judge others upon yourself. You must understand that no one else feels, or thinks, or looks upon things in quite the same way that you do. They are not motivated by the same things that you are, nor will they react the same. In any case, men are territorial animals. They will growl over a bone they do not even want, only because it is theirs."
"Oh," Alinor said in dismay. "You think, then, that he was only angry because I am his wife?"
Claire shrugged. "He has been kind to you, despite the circumstances. It is not impossible that he has developed an affection for you. Particularly since he lost his wife so tragically and claimed to love her. He would have a void that needed filling."
Alinor supposed that was said to make her feel better. Somehow it didn’t. "If … father died, do you think that you would love another?"
Claire looked pained. "I would not look for another to take his place, for no one could." She noticed Alinor looked near tears and could have bitten her tongue. Small wonder her daughter spoke so thoughtlessly! "I already pointed out that we are not all the same, Alinor. In any case, I never said that I could not love another, only that I would not look."
"That is the same thing!"
Claire sighed with exasperation. "Then you should simply give up now. There is no point in trying to win his heart, I am sure, for it is in the grave."
Alinor’s jaw set belligerently. "You always told me that men liked their comfort and a woman who could assure that could also be assured of earning their man’s affection."
"You will not make him comfortable if you treat him to tears and rages of jealousy."
"Then I will not."
Claire looked at her dubiously.
"I will not!" Alinor repeated more forcefully, wondering even as she said it if she would be able to control her impulse to speak, or act, first and mourn the consequences later.
To her surprise, although Wulfgar made it clear that he remained displeased with her, he watched her every movement whenever she was within sight, like a predatory cat watched its prey. It was unnerving, and yet she could not help but be elated that he never so much as glanced in the direction of any of the maids who made sheep’s eyes at him—He was far too busy watching her to notice the invitation in their eyes. Moreover, he slept in her bed each night, coupling with her each night before he would allow her to sleep.
Alinor didn’t know whether to be gratified or disturbed by the results of their argument but by the time Wulfgar left with her father to reclaim their holdings, she was almost relieved at the opportunity it would afford her to rest.
She would have been happier if she had not been anxious about the outcome of the excursion, for she very quickly discovered that broken rest due to coupling was far preferable to the anxiety that kept her wakeful and restless once he had gone.
Chapter Twelve
Chrétien d’Arrus sent word ahead of his intentions to inspect his daughter’s dower property. Wulfgar was opposed to the notion, but bowed to Chrétien’s position. When they topped a rise and looked upon the stronghold that guarded the property’s northern boundary, he understood why Chrétien had decided it would be best to approach openly.
Unlike the Saxons, the Europeans favored walled fortresses. Maison de Vardon was surrounded by a sheer stone wall that looked to be between twenty and thirty feet high. Above its ramparts, Wulfgar could see the pointed spires and steep slate covered roof of the mansion itself, but nothing else beyond the guards stationed along the top of the wall.
The mansion was aptly named, for it stood upon a knoll that even now, after first frost, showed specks of green. The land that stretched out around it in every direction was still in cultivation this late in the growing season and Wulfgar had no doubt that the forest that had been cut back into the distance was equally fecund. Alinor had not exaggerated when she had told him of it.
A mixture of emotions filled him as he surreptitiously surveyed the lands that would be his home and Alinor’s; pleasure in the sheer beauty of it; gratitude that he would once again have an estate to manage and a hearth of his own; humility that Alinor and her family had accepted him when he was no more, now, than any other landless knight; and homesickness.
He had not allowed himself to think of living in a foreign land. In truth, he had hardly given any thought to the land at all beyond the certainty that taking it would goad Jean-Pierre as nothing else had. Now, although he looked forward to claiming it with hope and a sense of renewed purpose, he also realized that he would never truly feel as if he belonged. The lands Jean-Pierre now held had been in his family for generations. He had been born there as his father before him and every inch of it was as familiar to him as his own body.
This place was Alinor’s.
As if Chrétien had read his mind, he spoke just then. "This part of the property comes to Alinor from Claire. The mansion was built for her mother, but has been well kept and added to several times over the years. There is a much smaller keep on the southern end of her property … not much to it at all, but the land is as fertile. I purchased it after my second daughter was born, but …." He allowed the sentence to trail off and after a moment Wulfgar realized that he was thinking of the children he had lost. There had been no point in enlarging his holdings when he had seen he would have no other heirs.
A knot tight
ened in Wulfgar’s belly. He had seen himself how much Alinor was like her mother.
"We shall see soon enough if Raul Dubois has a notion of what we are about," Chrétien muttered under his breath as he signaled for the troops to halt before the gate of the keep … which had not opened to greet them as Chrétien had expected it would. They waited, becoming uneasy as time passed. Finally, the creak and groan of chain rang out as the portcullis slowly began to open.
Wulfgar glanced at Chrétien. "It’s a trap," he muttered, tossing one corner of his cape back so that he could reach his weapons without hindrance. A ripple went through the men behind him as they noticed his posture.
The gate was little more than halfway open when he dug his heels into his destrier’s sides and yelled the battle cry.
If Chrétien’s men had not been as well trained as his own, they would very likely have been doomed, for less than half their men managed to make it through before the portcullis was slammed closed once more. Those who’d entered were well versed with the layout of the keep, however, and leapt from their horses immediately and charged the walls to capture control of the portcullis. Once they were inside, the battle lasted little more than an hour, for the mansion itself was not fortified.
Raul Dubois had had no word from Jean-Pierre they discovered after they’d questioned him, beyond having been informed that the heiress had been killed and that he was not to allow Chrétien the chance to retake the keep.
Chrétien had to be restrained from killing the man on the spot, but Wulfgar had other plans for him. "No! We will send him to Jean-Pierre. Obviously, he was devastated at the thought of Alinor’s death. He can take Jean-Pierre word that she lives."
Chrétien studied him for several moments and finally moved away from the man they had been questioning. "You are certain you wish to issue this challenge?"
Wulfgar Page 8