Conquering William

by Sarah Hegger

  “Ooh, Lady Alice.” Young Tildy sighed. “Ain’t it a grand sight?”

  Grand, maybe not, but definitely stirring. William had the men arrayed in ranks behind him. He moved, more graceful than a dancer, sword flashing in the sunlight, calling out instructions as he went.

  “Look at my Harry.” Ruth jostled her shoulder. Pride shone in her face as Ruth watched her ungainly husband slash and stab his way through the thrust and parry William demonstrated. “He looks like a real knight, he does.”

  “Aye, Ruth.” Alice smiled at her. If the woman saw her paladin in the clumsy lad, who was she to say different?

  The only real knight, William, belonged to her. Tall, broad, beautiful, and a tummy-clenching sight in his effortless skill.

  William called out a command, the men responded in a deep bass rumble.

  Around her the women collapsed into appreciative giggles and sighs. Alice kept her own sigh deep within. On second thought, Tildy had the right of it. It was a grand sight. Men doing what men did—manly things.

  In the practice yard, William moved out of formation and the men continued through the forms. He approached a man, adjusted the angle of his sword. Stopped at another and adjusted his grip. Clapped a third on the back and earned a proud, sweaty grin in response, and so he went from man to man. Then he stood to the side and watched, his attention intent on the men before him.

  Her father did not train with the men. He had a chief man-at-arms for that and a handful of younger household knights.

  William glanced over and waved.

  Tildy squeaked. “You have a handsome husband, my lady.”

  Alice smiled and waved back. “Aye, I do.”

  William spoke to the man beside him, then turned and strode to his horse. With a graceful leap he mounted.

  The horse wheeled, hooves flashing, and cantered toward her and the women.

  “He is riding over.” Tildy clutched her sleeve.

  Alice took a wary step back, but William stopped his horse short of the women and held his hand out. “Coming ride with me, my lady.”

  All she had to do was take his gauntleted hand. She had enjoyed their ride from The Crags. The wind cold against her cheeks, running through her hair and whipping it out behind her.

  “Oh, do, my lady.” Tildy poked her.

  Ruth winked. “Go on, Lady Alice. It will put some color in your cheeks for sure.”

  “Quite right.” William threw Ruth a charming smile. “Who wants to make soap on a day as fine as this?”

  His horse tossed its head as if agreeing, big teeth chewing the bit between them.

  It was a fine day. Chilly, but the sky soared above them in a blue arc, and a gentle winter sun did its best to distill the worst of the cold. Alice placed her hand in William’s.

  A laugh ripped free as he lifted her over the saddle before him. “Today we ride to chase the wind,” he said, and parted her legs so she rode astride like a man.

  Straddling a horse with her legs on view from the knee down. Beyond shocking. “William.” Frantically she tugged her skirts and covered as much as she could. “This is—”

  “Hah!” William dug his knees into the horse, and they shot forward. His forearms pressed against her sides, his chest warm at her back.

  So what if people glimpsed her knees. She had heard of plenty of women who rode thus. Everybody said it was far safer in any case.

  Hooves clattered over the drawbridge and they cleared Tarnwych. Beneath her thighs, the powerful shoulders of the horse carried them into the moors beyond.

  They went so fast the ground blurred beneath them. Faster than their first ride together. Light and joy filled her chest. She flew. Free, glorious, and unfettered, and she never wanted to touch the earth again. Alice threw back her head and laughed.

  William’s laughter rumbled through her back, buzzing in her ear.

  She grabbed her wimple ties and whipped it off. Wind ripped it out of her hand and sent it sailing like a bird across the late blooming heather.

  “Aye,” William yelled. “Let the blasted thing go.”

  He pressed into her, hunching her body over the horse. The horse lengthened his stride until they galloped faster than the wind. Her hair streamed over them, flying across her face and William’s. They rode the moor, following the lazy turns of the river.

  When William sat straight in the saddle and slowed the horse, Alice’s heart dropped. She never wanted their ride to end.

  “I must have a care for my horse,” he said. “He is a fine beast, but we do not want to tax him too much.”

  Alice stroked the proud arch of the horse’s neck. “He is beautiful. And such a color.”

  “The color of my lady’s hair,” William said, tucking his arms tighter about her.

  “You and your pretty words.”

  He chuckled and laid his head beside hers.

  She had left her shyness and her reticence back at Tarnwych and galloped away without them. Out here with the moors stretching as far as the eye could see, a different Alice rode with William. An Alice who dared joke with her handsome husband, and an Alice who gloried in the wild, untamed bounty of her hair and her legs astride a powerful beast. Out here, she was light and air.

  They crested a slight rise in the land and entered a small copse nestled into a crook in the river.

  “This is a fine spot.” William halted his horse. Hands beneath her armpits, he lowered her to the ground before sliding from the horse.

  “It is indeed.” Alice had never been here. She always left Tarnwych by closed cart. “Where are we?”

  William put his hands on her shoulders and turned her. “Over there is the keep.” His breath warmed her wind-chilled cheeks. “You can see the donjon just beyond that small crag.” Crowding her around in the other direction, he said, “And over there is the village. See the smoke rising?”

  “Aye.” Alice had trouble attending anything but the feel of him pressed against her back, the cup of his large hands on her shoulders.

  He slid his hands down her arms and wrapped his arms about her, pulling her tighter against him. The scent of him surrounded her, warm male flesh and a hint of cloves. At her back his heart drummed a steady beat, and his chest rose and fell. Still moors surrounded them. Wind ruffled the grass and low gorse bushes. The lone cry of a kestrel rode the silence as the bird circled high above them on widespread wings. It was as if they stood at the edge of the world, the only two people alive.

  “Perfect.” William nuzzled beneath her hair into her neck, his nose cold against her skin.

  Alice kept still. She didn’t want this moment to pass.

  Hot lips replaced his nose sending warm shivers over her skin.

  Alice closed her eyes and slid deeper into the blanket of her senses.

  He explored her neck slowly, as if he committed it to memory. “So sweet.” He nipped at her earlobe before drawing it into the heated damp of his mouth.

  Heat blazed down the side of her neck and tightened the tips of her breasts. She stood in the midst of the moors while her husband seduced her with his beautiful mouth, and Alice did not care.

  “I have been remiss in my duties,” he murmured into the line of her jaw.

  “Have you?” Her breath puffed through her lips as he built a heavy storm within her.

  “Aye.” He turned her in his arms. Blue eyes blazed at her for an instant before he lowered his head, nibbling her lips. “Wed nigh a sennight and still a bride.”

  Alice pressed onto her toes and slid her mouth along his. She welcomed his kiss as if starved for him. The familiar, thrilling taste of him called to an inner wanton in her who wanted to stretch and rub against him. Through their clothing, the hard press at the juncture of his thighs encouraged her wanton.

  With a groan, he responded to the writhe of her hips, pulling her even closer.

  When William broke the kiss they were both breathing hard. “One day soon, my Alice,
I am going to make love to you out here with only the sun to see us.”

  Oh, she would like that. Alice laughed and wrapped her arms about his head. “Could we do so in summer?”

  Chapter 11

  “Do not move from this place.” William settled young Will with a large blanket, a pillow, and enough food to see a hungry boy through the night. “Do not let anyone, and I mean anyone, past you.”

  “Nay, I mean aye, my lord.” Will nodded with the earnestness of a boy given an important duty.

  A more than important duty, a vital duty. Vital to the state of William’s ballocks and his marriage. Any more of these near-misses with Alice and he might explode. Today, on the moor, almost had him lowering her to the ground and tossing her skirts up. The way she came alive in his arms, all passion and fire, filled him with a carnal anticipation that had his rod stirring in his braies like a lad Will’s age.

  Tonight he made her his. A well-planned campaign meant a smoother victory, and he had planned his campaign.

  Will he positioned here at the base of the stairs to watch if anyone—namely the evil nun—decided on another nocturnal visitation.

  With a final pat on Will’s shoulder, he mounted the stairs.

  At the top of the stairs, he passed Rufus with a nod. If Will failed to turn the miserable besom away, Rufus clamored to get back into William’s good graces. Barricading the nun from his bedchamber would go a long way to accomplishing that.

  The men slept like babes after he’d worked them hard all day. Happy that the conniving Scots kept to their side of the border, William stood ready. He almost rubbed his palms together in glee.

  In the chamber, he built the fire to a roaring blaze, checked the wine, and rearranged the cheese on the platter. From the bath, the sweet scent of roses perfumed the air. He awaited his bride, presently laboring her way through evening prayers. A word with Father Mark and a few coins in the alms box had assured a shorter service than normal. The man had tears in his eyes as William released him from beneath the cat’s paw.

  The door opened and Alice entered.

  * * * *

  Alice meant to speak with William about missing prayers. Last night had been understandable and the night before that, but tonight he had left her outside the hall with a wink and no explanation. She stopped inside the door and stared.

  Lounging on the bed in his braies, William gave her a wicked grin. “Come in, my Alice.”

  My Alice? She rather thought not. “I would speak with you, William.”

  “Hmm.” He propped his head on his hand. “I am afraid we will not spend our night talking.”

  The fire, the wine, the near-naked man on her bed. Admittedly, nobody had ever tried to seduce Alice before, but a girl had her secret yearnings. Her mouth dried, and she swallowed before finding her voice. “Did you?”

  He uncurled from the bed, big and sleek and male. Firelight caught the carved lines of his face and drew shadows over his heavy lidded eyes. “My Alice.” He cupped her face, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “I think we have waited long enough for tonight.”

  Her entire lifetime, a girlhood dreaming of a beautiful prince, three marriages which plummeted short of those dreams. Now she stood in this chamber with her beautiful husband. Alice swayed toward him, lost in the charm he wove about her.

  Whisper-soft, his lips touched her forehead. Warm breath caressed her face as his lips moved over her brows to her cheeks. “So soft,” he said. “Finer than the silks I gave you.”

  “William.” His name caught on her soft gasp. The promise of his kiss simmered through her blood, heating her skin and melting her limbs. Levering herself onto her toes, she shifted and connected their mouths.

  His lips softened beneath hers, giving her mastery of the kiss.

  A heady rush of excitement roared through her. Opening her mouth, she teased his lips until he admitted her tongue. Just as he had taught her, she slid her tongue into his mouth.

  He groaned, and his hands tightened on her face. Silently, he asked her for more, and Alice gave.

  All the pent up waiting she poured into her kiss.

  His response drove her further. She deepened the kiss. In command, the aggressor, and it went to her head in a rush of freedom. Free, like she felt on horseback, Alice wrapped her arms around his waist. She needed the press of his warm chest against her. His body differed from hers in ways that thrilled and fascinated her. As he had done, she pressed her lips to the heated column of his neck and drew the salty male taste of him into her.

  “Aye, Alice,” he murmured.

  At the base of his throat throbbed his pulse, strong beneath the sun-darkened skin, and she pressed her lips there. She explored the defined planes of his chest. Beneath his smooth, hot skin, his fascinating muscle tensed. Her touch hungry, she learned his stomach and lower.

  His waist, trim and tight, slid under her palms. His hips, so narrow, gave way to the taut muscle of his thighs. And in between, the part of him she had only glimpsed. The need to see and explore that secret area had her hands at the ties to his braies.

  He covered her hands with his. “We will get to that, my Alice, but first I thought you might care to bathe.”

  Nay, Alice did not care to bathe, she had other things on her mind, but he led her closer to the fire and the waiting bath tub.

  Quicker than a maid, he divested her of her bliaut and chemise.

  Suddenly shy, Alice covered herself with her hands.

  “Nay.” William drew her hands away from her flesh. “Let me see how beautiful you are.”

  She was not beautiful, she was plain Alice of Tarnwych, but the way William looked at her, the heat in his gaze as he dwelled on the roundness of her bosom, and the curls between her thighs made her feel like that Alice on the moors.

  He helped her into the bath.

  Silky water lapped her heated skin, stroked her nipples and her woman’s flesh in a sinful embrace. She did not know what he was about. It seemed she spent much of her marriage in that state.

  “My mother always complains the stench of making soap sticks to her skin.” William stroked bathing soap up her arms and over her shoulders. Broad hands covered her shoulders and slid over her chest.

  Her breasts ached for his touch, but William’s hands moved up again and kneaded her shoulders and then back down her arms.

  Alice stirred, restive and needy, in the water.

  He moved to the end of the bathing tub and took her foot in his large hands. Strong fingers worked at the arch of her foot.

  It felt marvelous, and Alice lay her head back on the rim of the tub.

  “Aye, my Alice.” His clever fingers dug into her foot. “Take your ease and let me please you.”

  Over her ankle he kneaded, and further along her leg. Then back to her foot again.

  “William?”

  “Aye.” His dark head bent over his work.

  “Are you…is this…?”

  He nipped the pad of her foot. “Am I what?”

  Alice shrieked, more from surprise than aught else. “What are you doing?”

  “If you need to ask that, my Alice”—he shot her a roguish grin—“then I am not doing it correctly.”

  He slid his hands past her knees and up.

  Alice tensed.

  William moved his hands down her legs. “What a pity these stay hidden beneath a skirt,” he said.

  Alice had never thought of her legs as objects of admiration. Under his sun-darkened hands, her skin glowed pale. “You like my legs?”

  “Aye.” Water gleamed on his wet arms before they disappeared beneath the water again. His hands travelling past her knees, a bit further this time.

  Her thighs trembled. Her mind clamored to snap them shut, but the heat uncurling in her belly had her wanting to drop them open and encourage his touch where she throbbed.

  “Come.” William stood and tugged her up.

  Water streamed over her bo
dy and splattered onto the floor.

  He lifted her out of the tub as if she weighed nothing, and wrapped her in a drying cloth warmed from the fire. With tender care, he dried her. Fingers, wrists, shoulder, arm pits before moving to her breasts. Beneath the drying cloth the heat of his hands scorched her sensitive flesh.

  He did not linger but moved over her belly and her hips.

  Disappointment curdled within her. She wished she had the courage to grab his hands and put them where she wanted them.

  William kneeled and dried her legs and then her feet, taking his time lifting each foot and working the cloth between each toe before putting her foot down again.

  “William.” She ached, and she throbbed. She wanted so many things and knew not how to ask for them. His name escaped her on a low whisper of want.

  He looked up at her and tilted his head. “What does my Alice want?”

  Oh, the devious rogue. He knew what he did to her. She could see it reflected in his grin and his twinkling eyes. “I want…”

  “Aye.” He lifted a brow.

  “I want to see you.” Alice said it in a rush before her courage faltered. “Unclothed.”

  William stood. His braies dropped in a murmur of cloth, and he stilled before her, fully and gloriously naked. His male flesh jutted from a dark nest of hair.

  Her woman’s core pulsed in response. She had no virgin’s fear holding her back. This would not be the same as before. Dark fumbling and grunts in a darkened room. Nay, William offered her a feast for her eyes and her curious touch.

  As she fastened her hands about him, William dropped his head back on a hiss. “What are you doing to me, Alice?”

  “Touching you.” She explored his rod. Thick and hard, it pulsed in her clasp. Delicate skin covered his rod, softer with heavy veins barely covered. “Is it all right, if I do?” It seemed polite to ask, although the evidence of his enjoyment was stamped in high color across his cheeks, beamed at her from the intensity of his eyes. “I have never…”

  He nodded, understanding what she could not voice. “Tonight is for you, sweeting. I want to share with you all the pleasure you have missed.”