The Winds of the Heavens (Sons of Rhodri Medieval Romance Series)

by Anna Markland

  A hearty fire burned in the hearth. He had never shared a chamber with anyone but his twin, when they were children. Glain’s presence in his refuge somehow seemed right. It made the room brighter. It struck him for the first time how masculine the furnishings were. Trophies of war adorned the walls. However, someone had definitely cleaned and tidied.

  Thank you, Carys.

  Glain sat propped up by the bolster, her long flaxen hair flowing over her shoulders. Her maidservant had dressed her in a fine linen nightrail, and she smiled nervously as the last of the revellers departed, their bawdy laughter echoing in the halls.

  She gazed around his chamber, seeing it for the first time. He took a deep breath. “It must seem—I mean, I’ve never had a woman—no, that’s not what I meant to say.”

  Glain laughed and held out her hand to him. Had the heat of the fire flushed her face to a bright red? She looked at him through half-lidded eyes and her gaze fell to his groin. “Come to bed, Rhun.”

  Her voice had always enthralled him. Now her words echoed through his head and travelled to his toes. He had never been at such a loss for words. Rhun, the mighty patriot warrior, brought to his knees by the promise he might at last make love to the woman he adored.

  Pray I do this right, that I please her.

  He stood by the bed. Should he take off the bed robe first? Would she be alarmed? He felt like a nervous child. He bent his knee to climb onto the mattress, but she held up her hand. Surely she wouldn’t deny him now?

  She fluttered her eyelashes. “Won’t you disrobe first?”

  He opened his mouth to reply. The flames reflected the devilment in her eyes. She was teasing him! She wanted to see his body as much as he longed to see hers. He undid the tie at his waist and let the silk garment slide with a slow whisper from his body. Glain licked her lips and gaped. The colour drained from her face.

  I’ve frightened her.

  He leapt onto the bed and gathered her into his arms. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I know I’m big, but I’ll make you ready for me. I swear.”

  She looked up at him. “I’m not afraid, Rhun. I’m ready for you.”

  He regretted she would never wear the beautiful nightrail again after he tore it from her body, but her words inflamed him to such a degree, he couldn’t stop. “Fy Nuw! Glain, I love you so much.”

  He brushed his lips over hers and pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of the Montbryce apple brandy Baudoin and Carys had brought as a gift. She twirled her tongue around his and he sucked it into his mouth. Every inch of his flesh tingled.

  She gasped and arched her back as he turned his attention to suckling her nipples, one after the other, like a starving child. She smelled sweet and wholesome. He savoured the firmness of her breasts, the smoothness of her skin. Though he had fondled her before, and felt her nipples harden beneath the fabric of her dresses, he had never seen her naked. “I have longed to behold your breasts, to take them in my mouth and suck. Are my fingers too rough?” He flicked his tongue over one of the taut points.

  Glain raked her fingers through his hair. “No. It feels good. It does funny things to my insides.”

  “Mine too!”

  She has no idea!

  Glain suddenly dug her nails into his scalp and her breathing became laboured. A moment later she called out his name over and over, thrusting her hips towards him. The musky scent of female arousal wafted into his flared nostrils, eliciting a low growl from his throat. He ran his fingers through the curls at her mons then over her swollen nether lips. She had released though he had not yet touched her most intimate place. Wet warmth pooled on his fingers. He touched a fingertip to her engorged bud. She arched again and a guttural cry escaped her lips.

  She had already parted her legs. He could wait no longer. Rising above her, he guided the end of his tarse to her opening, his heart beating wildly. The urge to penetrate her was overwhelming. If he wasn’t quick, he would come before he got inside her. She opened her eyes and touched his shaft with her delicate, healing fingers. The lust on her face swept away like chaff on the wind any good intentions he’d had of entering her slowly. He closed his eyes and plunged into the tight pulsating wetness of his wife’s sheath. If anyone still in the neuadd had not heard his shout of joy, he would be surprised.

  A question forced its way into the rhythmic pounding. Had he hurt her? He opened his eyes. She was smiling, eyes glazed with passion. Her hips urged him to drive deeper. He lifted her legs to his chest and curled his arms around her calves at the side of his head. He opened his mouth to tell her he was coming, but no sound emerged.

  She reached up and put her hands on either side of his face. “Fill me, Rhun. I am greedy for you.”

  Her mouth fell open. She thrust back her head. He wished for a tongue long enough to lick her slender neck and thirsted to bite her throat exposed for him. The long, low keening sound she made sent him tumbling over the edge. His essence burst forth deep inside as she cried out his name again. They were one at last. His aim had been true.

  ***

  The logs shifting in the grate as the flames consumed them brought Glain back to the world. She was deliciously sticky where their bodies had joined. Rhun lay with most of his weight on her, his broad shoulders glistening in the firelight, his hair strewn across her face. She twisted her fingers into it, dreaming of red-haired children. Maybe twins? A future filled with more naughty fun!

  His breathing had slowed. Was he asleep? He had stayed inside her and now she felt new stirrings of his interest. She wanted his weight covering her for all time.

  “What are you thinking?” His rich voice startled her and she clenched on him, feeling him respond.

  He touched the end of her nose as she gazed at him. “I know what I’m thinking.”

  She untangled her fingers and lifted her arms to rest them on the bolster, arching her back and stretching. He raised up on his elbows and looked at her, then moved his hands to entwine his fingers in hers, pressing her hands to the pillow. The slow thrusting of his hips was already building the enthralling heat inside her again.

  He smiled. “You are beautiful, and you’re mine.”

  His smile took her breath away. She squeezed his fingers, revelling in the power this man held over her. “Forever,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER TEN

  “If I wanted to live the life of a monk, Isolda, I would have joined a monastery.” Rhydderch instantly regretted the sarcasm of his harsh words to his wife of a fortnight. He took a deep breath. “I love you and I’ve been patient. I understand how devastating your blindness is. I would sacrifice anything to have your sight restored, but I can no longer accept your refusal to share my bed. You’re my wife.”

  They sat in the small chamber off the neuadd. She felt safe there. It had become her haven, but also her prison. He didn’t dare sit beside her. If their bodies touched he feared it would inflame him to such a degree he might take her against her will. He desperately wanted to avoid that, yearning for a willing Isolda who did not shrink from his touch. He wanted the Isolda with whom he had laughed and teased and touched in intimate places. But his patience was at an end. Isolda wore her blindness as a protective shield, letting no one enter. He did not want to invoke wifely duty. She might acquiesce, but that was not the solution. He craved her love, but did she love him still, deep within? He had tried to reach her there, and failed.

  The evident joyous intimacy between Rhun and his wife made matters worse. Married on the same day in a restrained ceremony in Powwydd, Rhun and Glain had been unable to keep their hands off each other, leaving the banquet early to rush off to their chambers. He had remained in the Hall, clutching his new wife’s trembling hand. He had sensed she wanted to share Glain’s excitement at being kidnapped, but had been too afraid.

  The next day Rhun had taken great pride in running the bloodied sheets from his marriage bed up the flagpole. Rhydderch had been happy for his brother, but devastated his own wife had not share
d his bed on their wedding night.

  She clutched the arms of her chair. “I told you before we were married I wouldn’t make a good wife. I’m blind. What do you expect? I’m helpless.”

  He raked his hair back from his face, pulling hard to assuage his frustration. “You are not helpless. You assume that mantle like armour to protect yourself. Why do you believe you have to protect yourself from me?”

  She covered her eyes with balled fists. “You know nothing of what I suffer. I wish I had died of the plague. My life is a living death.”

  He went quickly to embrace her, to comfort her in her despair, but she remained rigid in his arms, lost in her misery. He suddenly remembered something Rhys had said to him earlier, something he had not agreed with at the time. Rhys had told him he did too much for Isolda. Rhydderch had retorted angrily, but now he wondered if Rhys might be right. He did everything for her.

  “Isolda,” he said quietly after several minutes of silence, broken only by her sobs, “I am leaving the llys for a few days.”

  She flinched. “You would leave me alone?”

  This would be difficult. “You won’t be alone. Rhun and Glain are here, as are Rhys and Annalise. You have your maids. You don’t need me.”

  “But where are you going? How far?”

  He took her dismay as a good sign. “Not far. I’ll be back before you know I’m gone. It’s to do with food supplies for Cadair Berwyn.”

  She hesitated. “You’ll return?”

  “Do you care if I come back?”

  Tears welled in her eyes and she struggled to contain them. Were they tears of fear or did she still love him?

  She stiffened her spine. “I’ll miss you, but, as you say, I won’t be alone.”

  He determined not to kiss her. “Goodbye then, Isolda.”

  As he left the room he glanced back. She came to her feet, shoulders drooped, fidgeting with the belt of her surcoat dress, listening for the sound of the door closing. Her air of utter vulnerability tempted him to abandon his plan, but they couldn’t go on the way they were.

  He located his brothers in the neuadd. There would be no turning back if he told them. He cleared his throat. “Rhys, I’ve come to the reluctant conclusion you’re right about Isolda. I’ve told her I’m leaving for a few days.”

  Rhun seemed surprised. “Where are you going?”

  Rhys understood. “He’s not going anywhere. He’ll withdraw from Isolda and she’ll be forced to depend on herself. We’ll assist her of course, but only with what’s absolutely necessary.”

  Rhun rubbed his chin. “Glain will never go along with such a plan.”

  Rhys took firm hold of his elbow. “You must convince her it’s for Isolda’s own good. She’s destroying her soul and her marriage with her self-pity.”

  Rhun looked at them both curiously. Rhydderch struggled to maintain his composure. “I envy your happiness, Rhun. Isolda hasn’t yet shared my bed. I must do something or I’ll go mad.”

  Rhun’s mouth fell open. “I’m sorry, brother, I’ve been caught up in my own delirious happiness and failed to recognize your torment. I’ve likely made it worse, have I not?” He banged his fist on the table. “We’ll help. Where is she now?”

  “In the little chamber, where she always is.”

  Rhun came to his feet. “I’ll find Glain, and explain things to her. We’ll leave Isolda there for a while to dwell on your absence. She’s not used to being alone. It will be hard for her.”

  Rhydderch slumped into a chair. “It will be more difficult for me. I’ll want to rush to her aid.”

  ***

  Sweat poured off Rhydderch and he leaned his forehead against the cold stone wall of the passageway. Isolda had been alone for two hours. He had never stood in one place for such a long period of time. How agitated she must be, no doubt cursing him for leaving her.

  Suddenly the door of the little chamber opened. Isolda stood on the threshold, clinging nervously to the frame. “Hello—is anyone there?—I need help to get to my chamber.”

  She strained to listen. He held his breath. She must not discover he stood watch. Her face betrayed her anger and frustration—and her fear. His heart went out to her. Be strong, he wanted to say—to her or to himself?

  She went back into the room, slamming the door. Perhaps a good sign?

  Rhun and Glain walked by him a short time later. Rhun winked as they entered the little chamber, leaving the door ajar. Isolda sternly berated everyone for leaving her alone. Rhydderch was relieved at Glain’s reply. “Isolda, you’ll manage. Your husband will be back in a few days, and there is usually someone nearby who can help you.”

  She continued to rail. “I’ve been here for at least two hours.”

  Rhun’s voice. “Why didn’t you call for someone?”

  Isolda’s snappy retort. “I did. No one came.”

  Rhun persevered. “Your chamber isn’t far from here. Come, I’ll show you. Then, if it happens again, you’ll be able to make your own way there.”

  Isolda protested. “Glain, I can’t—”

  Glain glanced at her husband, who winked back at her. “Rhun is right. You must learn to do some things for yourself.”

  It broke Rhydderch’s heart to watch his wife grope her way along the walls as she followed Rhun’s voice to her chamber. Wrenching sobs shook her once she got inside. She had probably collapsed on the bed. He sent her maids in to tend to her needs, with strict instructions not to reveal his presence.

  ***

  For a fortnight he watched, a silent sentinel. Isolda struggled with her demons, but he noticed an increased confidence in the way she made her way round the llys. One day she sought out Glain in the still room, and his sister-by-marriage later told him Isolda had touched and smelled several of the herbs and salves. Glain took her to the herb garden and showed her a path where she might walk to a tree and sit on a bench. A few days later she ventured there alone, smiling as she raised her face to the sun. Surely she would hear the thudding of his heart? If Rhydderch couldn’t watch her, Rhun took his place. No injury would befall her.

  Naked and alone in his bed every night, Rhydderch dreamed Isolda came to him and pressed her lithe, warm body against his. The evidence of his erotic dreams was only too plain on the soiled linens each morning. He fell into a fitful sleep on the thirteenth night. Rhun had told Isolda he would return on the morrow.

  Let’s hope she’ll welcome me back! Mayhap she hasn’t missed me.

  Again he dreamed Isolda came to him and pressed her naked body to his. In his dream he cupped her bottom in his big hands and pulled her to him. She moaned. Her delicate hands played across his chest, grazing his male nipples, and her soft lips brushed his mouth. He opened to her inviting tongue and kissed her back, longingly.

  “If only this were not a dream,” he groaned, half awake now, his hand clamped on his tarse.

  “You’re not dreaming, Rhydderch.”

  His eyes flew open. Moonlight flooded the chamber, reflecting on the flaxen hair of a maiden cuddled into him. Was he still dreaming or had Isolda come naked to his bed? Her slim legs were entwined around him. He eased away to look at her. The moon’s rays illuminated her beautiful breasts, the pink nipples begging to be suckled. His heart raced wildly and his tarse became rock hard.

  “Isolda!”

  She nuzzled her head into his chest. “Rhydderch, make love to me. I need you.”

  He drew her face to his and kissed her deeply. She arched her body and opened her mouth in response to his coaxing. He sucked her tongue into his mouth. She raked her fingers through his long hair and felt his hard maleness grow more insistent against her. She longed for him to fill her, to rid her of the emptiness she had endured. His lips moved to her breasts and he suckled her with a hard rhythm, like a thirst-crazed man delivered from the desert. She arched her back again and a strangled shout emerged from her throat as the aching need built between her legs. She pulled away and traced her hands slowly down his taut belly to whe
re they found what they timidly sought. He groaned.

  “I’ve longed to touch you, Rhydderch. You’re silken, and heavy!”

  He took one hand and guided it to cup his ceilliau. “Feel all of me, Isolda.”

  His throaty growl intensified the ache in her loins and echoed between her legs. She breathed his name.

  He rose above her. “I’ve often dreamt of our first time together and planned it to be slow and beautiful for you, but I’m about to lose control. I need to be inside you—now.”

  She opened her legs. “Now, now, now, come inside me.”

  Still he hesitated, his voice full of need. “But if you’re not ready it will be painful for you.”

  She moved her hands on his manhood, urging him to her. “It can’t be any more painful than the ache driving me now.”

  He groaned and touched his finger to her female centre. She was wet and inviting, her mons swollen. “Isolda, forgive me, I have to now.” He knelt, positioned the engorged, throbbing end of his shaft at her entry then plunged through the barrier. She cried out but rocked against him, matching his strokes, pulling his hips towards her. He felt the pulsating heat of her sheath as he thrust, delirious as rapture surged through his loins and his seed entered her body. He cried out her name, straining to hold on to his wits as the chamber spun around him.

  Wanting to stay inside her, he held her close and sat up on the edge of the bed, fastening her legs around his hips, burying her head against his neck, supporting her back with his big hands. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders and his chest. He breathed in the enticing scent of rosemary. They were one at last.

  Gradually their breathing steadied. He kissed the top of her head. “I want to stay inside you forever. Next time will be better. I’ll be more in control and will give you more pleasure. You took me by surprise.”