Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Is that what you truly wish to hear?” she asked softly. “W-Would not you rather hear of my love for you as well?”

  His gaze held even a moment before, slowly, breaking into a tender smile. “I shall spend the rest of my life hearing of your adoration. For now, I wish to hear my words repeated by your utterly delicious lips. Say them, love. Say them and mean it.”

  Her smile broadened, her lids seductively heavy as her gaze raked his rugged face. “Bose loves me, therefore, I will not stammer any longer in his presence.” When he did not respond immediately to her perfect declaration, she cocked a well-shaped brow. “Was that not satisfactory?”

  Bose hadn’t reacted immediately to her flawless statement because, truthfully, the seductive expression on the woman’s face had nearly drained him of his concentration and self-control. But he had heard her nonetheless, and his gentle smile grew in intensity as he pulled her more closely against him.

  “Completely, love, completely,” he said with sincere emotion. “It was not so difficult, after all.”

  She continued to stroke his cheek, her smile fading. “It is not difficult when I speak to you. B-But I doubt the same will hold true when I speak to others.”

  He squeezed her tightly, an encouraging demonstration of his support. “All in time, love. With practice, you will forget this nasty habit that has plagued you since childhood.”

  A delicate finger traced one of the three barbaric scars bisecting his right cheekbone. “Do you believe in Fate, Bose?”

  “I believe in God and the Devil. Why do you ask?”

  She maintained a delicate touch upon his scars, pausing a moment before answering. “Because I believe Fate has brought you to me. Of all the knights in England, the one man w-who would understand my affliction has come into my heart and I cannot sincerely describe my joy.”

  He gently touched her chin. “Not affliction, love, habit. An affliction is a disease or physical defect, such as leprosy or a missing limb. You, my fair lady, possess no such ailments. You are the most perfect creature God has ever created.”

  A faint blush mottled her ears, spreading to her cheeks. “You are my f-future husband and forbidden to think otherwise.”

  He smiled and she touched his lips as the uneven display split his face into two halves. “Every man who sees you believes as I do,” he shifted her in his arms, reclining on his back and pulling her onto his mighty chest. “As for God and Fate, my lady, I believe that both have kept you sequestered for all of these years, waiting for the event of my arrival. Knowing that I was the only man worthy of your beauty, your spirit, and the only man intelligent enough to break you of your habitual stammer.”

  She tore her gaze from his mouth, lifting a delicate eyebrow at his arrogant statement. “My, my, how confident we are in God’s Master Plan. T-Tell me, if you would, how we are to explain our introduction to our children? Do we tell them that God and Fate brought us together by magic?”

  He stared at her a moment, his smile vanishing with unnatural speed. Summer could see the faltering of expression, the flash of pain, or mayhap panic, in his eyes and it puzzled her. Both hands to his cheeks, she endeavored to force him to meet her eye.

  “W-What’s the matter? What did I say?”

  He shook his head, unwilling to elaborate on the apprehension that filled his veins the moment she mentioned their prospective children. God’s Beard, their entire introduction and courtship had been such a whirlwind of emotion and activity that he had never truly been given the chance to linger on the potential of offspring. And given a moment to reflect, he realized the very thought scared him witless.

  “Nothing, love,” he replied. “Nothing at all.”

  Struggling to distract both her and himself, he kissed her firmly on the lips. But the effort wasn’t hard fought; the moment she responded to his seeking mouth, he forgot about everything but his growing feelings for her.

  Genisa’s scarlet and gold gown was coming off. Summer felt the stays as they loosened, the silken material as it slid over her shoulders and down her torso. Bose’s warm, calloused palms were against her breasts, bare flesh to bare flesh, and she again groaned softly with the wonder of it. When his lips left hers and moved tenderly to a swollen nipple, Summer did not protest the action.

  An afternoon of private touches and awesome discovery had done well enough to prepare her for the event of his mouth upon her breast. He had fondled her a great deal beneath Grandfather’s oak, stroking her through the confining material of her gown and listening to her soft grunts of pleasure. But he hadn’t merely touched her breasts; his seeking, curious hands had moved about her entire body, snaking up her skirt and caressing the silken flesh of her thighs. The true jewel of his search, however, had remained untouched during the course of their time together.

  A looming discovery that caused his hands to shake with anticipation as his scarred, course fingers danced underneath her skirts. Suckling her breasts, his hands skimmed her shapely legs, moving beyond her knees and lingering in the moist warmth between her thighs. Pushing her legs apart gently, he continued to blaze a trail up her silken thigh until the delicate brush of kinked hair tickled the tips of his fingers.

  Beneath him, Summer lurched with surprise and Bose’s head came up from her beautiful breasts, his eyes glazed with desire. She met his gaze, her half-lidded expression fearful and curious at the same time. He smiled faintly.

  “Do not be afraid, love. I’ll be gentle.”

  She blinked as if pondering his statement. “I-I… I-I am not. But you did n-not touch me… earlier, b-beneath the tree, y-you did not….”

  He shushed her softly, stroking her cheek with infinite tenderness. “There is no need to be nervous, love. Relax and take a deep breath. That’s my good girl.”

  A faint flush mottled Summer’s cheeks as she did as she was told, calming the severe stammer that always accompanied an attack of nerves. After a moment, her half-lidded gaze of desire transformed into a more lucid, serious expression.

  “There is so much I do not know,” she said softly, her fingers toying with his hair. “The ways of men and women… I know the physical aspects of coupling, but that is where my knowledge ends. You’ve been married before and….”

  “And I fully intend to teach you everything I have learned if you will allow me,” he interrupted her quietly. After a moment, he removed her fidgeting hand from his hair and kissed the palm gently. “I will not continue if you do not want me to. I apologize if you believe my actions bold, for certainly, my sole intention was to demonstrate my feelings for you and nothing more. I never meant to frighten you.”

  She watched him as he nibbled on her hand. “I am not frightened,” she said softly, a half-truth. “B-But this is all happening so fast that I can scarcely comprehend all of it.”

  He smiled, reading her uncertainty and deciding not to force himself on her this night. If all went according to plan, they would be wed shortly and he could spend the rest of his life teaching her the finer arts of lovemaking. Until then, however, he was perfectly content to wait. At least, he would make an attempt to maintain a proper patience. But, God’s Beard, the wait would be a difficult one.

  Pulling her skirts down, he shifted his massive frame so that he was looming over her, well removed from the temptation of her forbidden zone. Summer met his gaze, seeing the beads of sweat upon his brow and not unaware they were the results of a passionate fire raging wildly out of control.

  “Forgive me for spoiling your passion,” she said softly. “I certainly did not mean to.”

  He shook his head, kissing her delicious lips. “You did not,” he whispered against her mouth. “’Tis proper that we should wait for the marriage bed, of course. If your brothers demand bloodied sheets that I am unable to supply, I suspect you will be a widow before your next birthday.”

  She giggled softly, returning his gentle kisses. “You may continue to touch my breasts if that will help control your lust.”

  He coc
ked an eyebrow, passing a lingering glance at her beautifully full breasts pressed against his chest. “I… I do not believe that to be a wise action, but I thank you for the invitation.”

  “B-But why?” she was genuinely puzzled by his rejection. “I thought you wanted to touch them. This afternoon, your hands scarcely touched anything else.”

  He sighed, scratching his chin as he pondered the proper words to explain himself. “Believe me when I tell you that touching your breasts will not bank my passions, love. Touching them will only stoke the fires.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I do not understand.”

  He sighed again, clearing his throat for good measure as he groped for the correct wording. “You see… Summer, love, your breasts arouse me terribly. Here,” he took her hand, putting it to his groin. Through his breeches, Summer could feel his rock-hard arousal and her eyes widened. Meeting her astonished gaze, he nodded faintly. “Do you feel my want for you? A want that will only be sated when I join my body to yours. If I continue touching your breasts, the want will build and build until I explode. But if I refrain from touching you and we change the subject, the want will naturally fade.”

  “And you will n-not explode?”

  He grinned. “A figure of speech, love. But I most certainly will wish I could explode if my loins grow any harder.”

  Her warm hand lingered on his pulsing bulge a moment longer before removing it, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment, she shook her head with wonder. “T-This is all so new to me. I have seen dogs mate, of course… and once, I happed upon a soldier and a serving wench in the alcove near the kitchens. There was a good deal of grunting and squealing and…” she shook her head again. “When we mate, you will spill your seed into my womb, will you not?”

  He nodded, amazed that she was thinking so clearly and clinically about a most personal subject. Even this afternoon, when he had touched her breasts and explored her body in a limited fashion, she had showed surprisingly little resistance or fear. Certainly, the subject of physical interaction between a man and a woman was hardly a worthy focus of conversation for an innocent young maiden, but she was obviously unembarrassed by such discussion and he endeavored to answer her inquisitive questions honestly.

  “I will,” he replied. “That is how children are conceived.”

  “I know,” she responded softly. “Kermit told me.”

  “Who is Kermit?”

  He swore he saw a flash of pain in the darkly gold eyes. “He was my father’s steward until his d-death last year. He taught me everything about life and schooled me in various subjects,” suddenly, a mischievous sparkle appeared in her eye, quickly replacing the tinge of sorrow. “I swore that I w-would name my first born son after my dearest friend and tutor. I rather like the name Kermit de Moray.”

  He cocked a disagreeable eyebrow. “And I do not. Hardly an appropriate name for my….”

  Abruptly, he found himself unable to complete the sentence. Hardly an appropriate name for my son. Once again, feelings of anxiety descended upon him as he allowed himself to imagine Summer conceiving a child, enduring a horrific pregnancy implanted with a babe far too large for her small frame to carry. An infant the size and power of his illustrious father, bringing yet another de Moray wife to ruin and death.

  Bose struggled to erase the terrifying visions. Gazing into Summer’s inquisitive golden eyes, he decided that her life was worth far more than that of a potential heir. Above all else, Summer would live a long and prosperous existence by his side and although they would be without a son to carry on the de Moray name, he would still retain the one individual without whose love he could not endure. Above all else, he could not lose his wife.

  “You are lost to me, darling,” Summer’s voice was soothing, sweet. “You have c-chosen another name for our son?”

  “Nay, love,” he shook his head, forcing aside disturbing visions of pregnancy and birth. “No… no other name.”

  She smiled, willing to believe that even if he had selected another name, he would bow to her wishes nonetheless. “Of course, you and Lora had c-chosen a name for your child. What was it?”

  He suddenly pushed himself from the bed, running his fingers through his black hair in an agitated gesture. Smile fading, Summer sat up from the mattress and covered her breasts with her unfastened bodice. Realizing she had upset him with her reference to his dead wife, she hastened to ease his anger.

  “I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I did not mean to make light of Lora’s death. P-please forgive me.”

  He immediately held out a quieting, apologetic hand, turning to face her. The dim light cast from the crackling hearth gave her a glowing, ethereal appearance and his heart leapt wildly at the sight of her, more pain and anguish and bewilderment filling his mind than he had ever conceived possible.

  “You did nothing of the kind, love,” his voice was tight with emotion. Again, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I… I suppose the excitement of our relationship has finally caught up to me, too.”

  If she suspected his lie, she did not express her reservation. Instead, a timid smile creased her lips and she replaced her bodice, rising from the bed so that Bose could re-secure the stays. Obediently, silently, he helped her dress and took her in his arms when she was properly clad. Smelling her fragrance, feeling her warmth, helped clear his head tremendously.

  “I suppose I should leave you to retire,” he said hoarsely, his face buried in her hair. “You have had a most trying day.”

  Head against his shoulder, Summer inhaled deeply the fragrance of his distinct musk, finding it exceedingly masculine and comforting.

  “As you have also,” removing her face from his flesh, her fingers gingerly traced the stitches in his scalp. “Let there be no more w-wounds come the morrow’s joust. I have had my fill.”

  He smiled, his black eyes twinkling. “Aye, my lady. I shall endeavor to do my best.”

  “See that you do.” When his great head dipped low, capturing her lips tenderly within his own, she melted against his searing touch and a soft moan escaped her mouth. “Good Lord, Bose, I can h-hardly stand the thought of not seeing you ’til morn. And what will happen when the tourney is over? When will I see…?”

  A heavy rap shook the chamber door, vibrating the wall with the force of the blow. Summer gasped with surprise while Bose, consummately undisturbed, made sure his dagger was within easy reach before moving to the bolted panel.

  “Who comes?” he demanded.

  There was a slight pause before a strained, decidedly familiar voice wafted from the other side. “Open the door, de Moray. Immediately.”

  Bose passed a glance to Summer, not surprised to note her uncertainty and, he thought, chagrin. “It’s Stephan!” she hissed.

  Prepared for a harsh tongue-lashing, Bose unbolted the door and opened it. Not only was Stephan at the door, but Ian and Lance were hovering in the corridor as well and Bose stepped aside, ushering them into the chamber.

  Stephan’s expression was grim as he eyed the massively dark knight. He paused a moment before speaking. “I am sure you will understand my position when I say that I am uncomfortable with this situation. Betrothed or not, my sister is not yet your wife and I will not have her reputation sullied by the actions of an aggressive suitor,” before Bose could reply, Stephan looked to his flush-faced sister. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? You know better than to allow a man into your bedchamber, Summer.”

  Swallowing hard, Summer wrung her hands in unconscious apprehension. “I-I… t-that is, we’ve done n-n-nothing but speak, S-Stephan. S-S-Sir Bose has been a perfect g-gentleman.”

  Bose sighed sadly, noting the strong return of her stammer where for the past several minutes the habit had been virtually forgotten.

  “I was just leaving, Stephan,” Bose said quietly, eyeing Lance and Ian. Ian seemed remarkably composed whereas a drunken Lance was torn between concentrating on his scowl and making certain he remained upright long enough to en
sure his sister’s reputation. “I simply escorted my lady to her chamber and was preparing to bid her a good sleep.”

  Truthfully, Stephan did not seem overly furious that his sister had been found in a compromising position with her future husband. If anything, he seemed to be enforcing the strict code of chivalry and morality simply because, true to his words, his sister was technically still an unwed maiden. Since the moment Summer and Bose were seen entering the keep in one another arm’s, the rumors had been flying fast and furious and Stephan, newly returned from his rendezvous with his wife, had collected his brothers and moved to correct the potentially damaging situation.

  “So you have managed to solicit a betrothal contract out of my father,” Stephan’s voice was quiet. Approving, even. “Ian told me of his reluctance in granting your request. Rest assured that I shall speak with him come the morn, when his alcohol has evaporated and his mind is sane once more.”

  Bose bowed his head slightly. “Your assistance would be tremendously appreciated, Stephan.”

  Stephan simply nodded, returning his focus to his sister. He softened. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ll make a fine wife.”

  She smiled timidly. “T-Thank you for your support, S-Stephan,” she said softly. “However, there seems to be a problem already; B-Bose does not like the name Kermit.”

  The statement brought a laugh from Ian and a belated chuckle from Lance, once he realized through his drunken haze what had been said. Stephan smiled broadly, casting Bose a long gaze.

  “Poor man. I have a feeling he will agree to your demands regardless of his personal opinion,” when Bose shrugged weakly, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes, Stephan’s own smile faded as the reality of the situation once again came to bear; certainly, he had no intention of leaving the couple as he had found them. For appearance sake, it was best that Bose retreat for the evening. “As you can see, my lord, my sister has safely reached her bedchamber and is eager to retire. I thank you for your escort, but your presence is no longer required.”