Awakening His Lady: Novella (Norfolk Knights Book 3)

by Saskia Knight

  Only when she stilled did she feel him withdraw. It was her turn now.

  Chapter 7

  Her turn. But where to begin? Her experience was limited, as she’d never had a desire to prolong intimacy with her husband.

  She kissed him and slid her hands down the sides of his body, until it reached his stomach, ridged with muscle and then… She sucked in a tight breath as her fingers curled around his cock which jerked beneath her hands. It felt like silk under her soft fingertips. She clenched herself inside, as she tried to restrain her need to take him immediately to where her desire was most intense. No, she had to go more slowly. Savour the moment, as he’d said. After all, it would be the only one she’d have.

  She moved her fingers until it touched the end, so smooth except for the bead of moisture that pearled at the tip. She rubbed it and brought her finger to her lips. Watching him all the while she sucked it off her finger.

  Then with one swift movement he brought his hands under her hips and pressed his cock against her, demanding entry. She brought her legs up and he slipped inside her.

  Sex with her husband had been painful. But now, her gasp had nothing to do with pain and all to do with pleasure as he filled her inch by smooth inch with himself. He held himself there for a long moment, each of them feeling the intimacy of the connection, something much more than merely physical. He filled her so completely that she felt impaled by him, except that it was an impaling that brought no pain—only exquisite sensations that coursed through her body, that ran in waves across her skin and that engorged her flesh that wrapped tightly around him.

  Slowly he began to ease himself out of her and she almost panicked until he stopped and pushed back into her. He repeated it, pushing harder each time until she rucked the fur coverlet beneath her. His rhythm increased and so too, did the weightless bliss that ebbed and receded inside her, shifting with each movement he made, until the waves took a life of their own and she cried out, a cry that rose to the oak rafters, to the warm, smoky air that lingered high above them. Only then did she feel the tensions in his body heighten, the movements of his hips grow smaller, yet more intense as he filled her with his seed.

  They lay for some time, panting, their bodies slick with sweat, her body trembling from the tumult of sensation that had every nerve ending, every fiber of her body, stimulated.

  She closed her eyes and submitted to the bone-relaxed floating feeling that overtook her. Slowly through the mists of oblivion she felt the sharp, tender touch of his fingernails slide down her chest, her breast, before resting on her sex.

  “Angel.” His voice came out of the dark to her, came from another world, calling her back to him. Slowly she blinked and registered the red lick of the dying flames in the fireplace casting overlarge shadows on the tapestries and the knapped flint walls of the solar. They met and blended and overtook the tapers that still sputtered in the wall sconces. “Angel.”

  She turned to him and saw him as if for the first time.

  “Guy.” She felt, rather than heard, her voice. It breathed out towards him and he seemed to catch it as his mouth captured hers. She rolled over to him until their bodies were touching once more. She moved her open palm, her fingers outstretched, taut with expectation and disbelief, across his body. His shoulders tensed under her touch, and his muscles contracted as he reached up and pulled her tight to him. Her hands travelled the length of his body, feeling the tight swell of his bottom before reaching around and down, between his legs.

  He was hard already and, with eyes closed, he pressed his forehead to hers as her hand gripped his cock and moved it against her sex, until her body quickened in response.

  But it wasn’t the same as before. This time her need was, if anything, greater than his. What he’d shown her hadn’t lessened her desire but had exposed her to how great it was—for the right man. Her body, legs, hands, moved instinctively over him and she pushed him until he lay on his back. She captured his hands above his head—his arms, shoulders, and hands, so strong and yet so yielding within her own slender ones. Again she felt her power. She dipped her head to his and sought his mouth with hers in a deep kiss, allowing her breasts to hang over his chest, her nipples grazing the rough hair, arousing them both, as she rubbed herself up and down the length of him.

  She rose then, drawing her mouth away from him and rested her sex on his for a moment, relishing the slick feel of him against her before she slipped onto him, closing her eyes to relish every inch of sensation he gave her. It was different this time. She felt again her power and sat upright, feeling him as if he were her backbone, keeping her body together, making her whole.

  Then she rose up on him, watching him from beneath lowered lids. The sensations shot through her body as she watched the emotions flit over his face, his mouth, his eyes as she moved up and down. His hands reached up and cupped her breasts. She continued to move until she could receive no more and she cried out and fell upon him as her body spasmed around him, caressing his cock.

  They rolled to their sides and it felt more intimate than anything else. Here, they were equals; their hands exploring each other’s bodies, while he explored hers inside. They kissed, long and languorously before her lips descended to his neck, nipping and licking, until her she felt the coils of desire tighten within her.

  With a grunt he rolled her onto her back and drove into her, hard and fast. His eyes, while still holding hers, reflected the exquisite sensations within him as his movements tightened and he pulsed again, deep within her.

  They collapsed into each other’s arms and lay spent. With his body against hers, his arms around hers, they lay in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, listening to the distant roar of the sea.

  She’d lain beside her husband for years in this chamber, awake, while he slept off his drink. Same place, same bed, but oh, so different. For the first time ever, she didn’t feel she had to cut herself off and distance herself from the man at her side. She had tied herself to this man.

  Guy softly stroked her but still neither spoke. And then the stroking quietly ceased and she felt, rather than heard, him drift off to sleep. The muscles in his arms relaxed, and yet still held her secure within their embrace. Where sleep, dreams and reality met, she didn’t know. All became one with the wind that swirled around the castle, the whine and hum of the wind, reminding her of her promise to herself on her husband’s death bed. No more ties.

  What was she going to do?

  Chapter 8

  She awoke to the piercing calls of the marsh birds. It was a lonely sound out here on the edge of the marshes, so close to the sea. Once monks had lived in the old chapel behind the castle, finding refuge from the world in prayer, and collecting tariffs from passing boats before the channel silted up. Now it was her turn to find refuge—but not in prayer. In the arms of a man whom she realized she’d always loved and would always love. No matter if she never saw him again after today. And she could not.

  Her hand rose and fell on his chest. She could hardly see him as only the barest sliver of pale dawn light penetrated the solar’s shutters. She dropped her lips to his chest and up to his neck, her mouth coming to rest on his ear with a nip. She felt him awaken and when she pulled away, his hand traced her face and down to her breasts that peaked under his touch. He watched her with the same intensity as she watched his face take form from the darkness.

  “Say something, Angel.”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t trust her voice not to reveal the tears that slid down her cheeks. She turned away and lay on her back, awkwardly laying one arm across her eyes.

  “What is it?”

  He pushed himself up on his elbow and gently pulled her arms away. “This is no time for secrets. What ails you? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head, trying to suppress the emotions that threatened to break through her voice. She cleared her throat. “I had no idea it was like that.”

  Concern melted from his face, forming a warmth that she sim
ply wanted to bask under forever. “It’s not, not for everyone, not with everyone.”

  Just the thought of him with other women made her slip away from his arms and rise.

  “I need to get ready. And you need to be away. The causeway will be clear for you to leave now.”

  “It’s early yet. Come back to bed.” She closed her eyes at his touch. “Anyway, who said anything about my going?”

  “I did. Do you think you can stay here? You’ve done what you came here to do. You’ve seen me.”

  “Angel, come, there is no need for this.”

  “There is every need. You’ve got what you came here for—and more.”

  “What do you mean, and more? You think that last night was just a pleasant way to pass the night?” He reached for her hand. “You underestimate me, Angel.”

  “No. I would never do that. I know who you are. I know the nature of the blood that runs in your veins. You are from a long line of noble knights.”

  “Impoverished knights whose lands were stolen from them.”

  “It doesn’t stop you from being who you are. But, for all that, the die is cast. We both have separate paths to follow.”

  Wearily he swung his legs off the bed, pushed his fingers through his unruly hair and stood up. He appeared completely at ease with no clothes on. In the soft light of dawn, Angel could see the full extent of his injuries that made her own scarring appear like nothing more than a child’s scrape. She walked over to him and touched a long scar that ran across his shoulders, feeling it curve around his body; air sucking into her body at the realization of how close he’d come to death.

  He pulled her hand away but held it in his own. “The price of war, Angel. A price I no longer wish to pay.”

  She brushed the back of her fingers gently over the curling hairs on his chest and the abrasions where none grew.

  “What will you do?”

  His face suddenly fell serious. “We need to talk.”

  “Now?” Her hand grew bolder, dropping to his stomach.

  He caught her hand in his own. “Stop that woman, or neither of us will be going anywhere.”

  She cast a glance down and saw what he meant. She felt a deep sense of her feminine power as touched his cock. He tensed and shut his eyes as her fingers curled and closed around his aroused shaft.

  “You wanted to talk?”

  “Not with you doing that.” She slipped her hand more tightly around him.

  “You have only now. As soon as it’s fully light, my maidservant will arrive.” She reached up to kiss him.

  “You are trying to distract me.”

  “And I believe I’m succeeding.”

  He growled, a deep rumble that emerged from his mouth onto her breast. She gasped and laughed at the same time and twisted in his arms as if to get away. To her surprise he helped her turn around and she felt his hardness pressed against her back. She wriggled against him and closed her eyes in bliss as his hands came around and took her breasts, rubbing her nipples until they were heavy with need. As if sensing her arousal, he trailed his hand down and, finding her wet, growled, his cock straining against her back.

  Suddenly he gripped her around the hips and lifted her onto the bed. But before she could turn he’d raised her hips and his fingers stroked her, just where she wanted to be stroked. She dropped her head and groaned with pleasure. Each flick, each small penetration was taking her nearer the edge. She pressed into his hand but he withdrew. She opened her eyes with surprise but before she could remonstrate she felt his length slip into her slowly from behind, so slowly, that each silky inch intensified and heightened her pleasure until, with his final thrust, deep inside, she cried out his name for the first time.

  His fingers continued to play with her as he thrust repeatedly. Each movement making her want to faint with pleasure.

  “You are mine, Angel.”

  He continued thrusting, one hand rubbing the nub of sensory pleasure that heightened the effect of his movements, the other fingers entering her mouth where she sucked his fingers that tasted of them both.

  “You cannot turn away from me again.”

  She moaned in pleasure at what his body was doing to hers, unable to focus on his words.

  “I want you.”

  Her hands groped behind her so that she could feel his legs, the muscles taut, the hairs rough against her skin. His urgency didn’t stop and all she was aware of was his thrusting inside her and the spiralling surge of need that intensified with each deep thrust.

  “You have me,” she managed to gasp.

  Only then did he grunt with satisfaction and pulse his seed deep inside her. She cried out as the tension was released and her body massaged his, as if wanting to milk every drop from him.

  He brought her back against him and lay down on the bed. She wriggled back into his arms that held her body possessively. “You will be mine then, Angel?”

  “Yes. Here now, I am yours. But nothing beyond that.”

  He lay silent and she could feel the tension of anger spark in his muscles but he didn’t let her go.

  “You must marry me. I need you. The King won’t allow you not to marry.”

  “I cannot have a marriage like my first.”

  “You won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure? No one can. I’ve seen even the best of marriage twist into ugliness. My own father imprisoned my mother for years.”

  “You have to trust.”

  “I cannot.”

  A light in his eyes was suddenly extinguished and he moved away from her. He pulled on his underclothes and paused as he pushed his fingers through his hair. She would have named the gesture one of confusion if she hadn’t known him better.

  “What if there is a child?”

  She hesitated. He wouldn’t like it but she’d considered this as she’d lain in the early hours of the morning.

  “I can still pass it off as my husband’s. He’s been dead not yet six weeks.”

  She felt his sudden anger fill the small room.

  “You. Will. Not!”

  She rose and quickly pulled on her shift. “I will do whatever I have to do. Go, now, before you’re discovered.”

  There was a knock at the door and before she could answer, a maidservant entered, saw them both and quickly withdrew.

  She fell back on the bed. “Now everyone will know.”

  “You should have barred the door.”

  “I had no thought at the time.”

  “It matters not. You don’t want me here, so I must go. But only for now.” His expression was bleak and determined. “I will return.”

  She felt her heart breaking as she watched him dress, every movement he made was a movement away from her. For she knew she would not be here when he returned. She’d be gone within the week. She had to let him go. She had no choice if she wanted to be free. She’d done what he’d wanted, what she’d wanted. She’d lain with him and discovered a pleasure beyond imagining. But her experience of pleasure was that it was always fleeting. It was nothing compared to the permanence of a husband who ruled her, of a husband who could do as he liked with her. How could she go against everything she’d learnt and trust in Guy?

  He gathered his cloak and strode across the room, his heavy feet echoing through the solar and finding a corresponding hollowness inside of herself. But he did not look at her, not when he got dressed, not when he walked across the room, and not when he closed the door firmly behind him.

  Numbly she swung her legs off the bed and sat with her head in her hands. She’d had her night of pleasure and so had he. And yet it wasn’t enough. What had she done?

  Chapter 9

  Despite the bright sunshine that filtered into the room from the tower embrasures, and the warm bath water, Angelique shivered in the tub. He was gone. She’d told him to go and he’d done as she’d asked. But she felt his absence viscerally and it brought her no happiness, no relief.

  Her heart and mind were, simply, numb. Yet her b
ody reacted acutely to every stimulus, as if it had been awakened from a long sleep. The hot water had made her skin rosy and yet the chill draft that blew in from the tower door as her maid entered, stippled her skin with goose bumps. She shivered and rose to step into the dry sheet her maid held out for her.

  Angelique had caught the odd inquisitive look from her maid. No doubt they were all talking about the stranger who’d have been seen leaving her chamber, slipping out through the postern gate. Let them talk.

  “My Lady, Sir Richard is waiting outside.”

  She sighed as her maid hesitated by the door. “Tell Sir Richard I will be with him shortly.” Her maid nodded and swiftly left the room.

  Her body felt deliciously used and relaxed. She rubbed the sheet against her skin and closed her eyes as she imagined Guy’s hands upon her. But the physical thrill of her imagination was tempered with regret and sadness. Nothing lasted, she told herself. Why wait until the joy of their union unravelled and turned into the jealous, demanding cravings that she’d experienced with her husband? No. No more waiting. No more giving someone else control over her life.

  Clutching the sheet to her body she walked across to the wardrobe, where her maid had laid out her clothes, pausing to look out at the wide-open marsh, drained at that hour of the seawater, exposing the causeway. What she saw there shook her mind out of its inertia. She turned to see her maid re-enter and registered the look of panic in her eyes that were now upturned to hers.

  “Sir Richard says you must come immediately. The King’s men are approaching.”

  Angelique swiftly finished dressing in her one of her finest silk gowns—ordered by her husband for one of her many wedding gifts when he’d been anxious to impress her father, anxious for the title and lands she could bestow on him—and walked down the winding stairs to the Great Hall. She paused briefly and took a deep breath. While she felt immense relief that the King had been as good as his word and had sent an emissary to collect the coin with which she’d buy her freedom, she knew that, until the transaction had been completed and until she’d left Norfolk, she would still be vulnerable.