by K. E. Saxon
“Nay!” he bellowed, taking two steps toward her, but stopped short again, and she knew ‘twas because he could not stand to be too close to her now. “I’ll nn—”
She swung her gaze to his and lifted her chin to show that she would not let him coerce her into changing her mind. “Aye, we shall. I shall live at one of the smaller manor houses you’ll be gaining from Donnach’s estate now that we’ve wed, and you shall stay where e’er your business takes you, and you shall keep a leman, and I shall remain chaste, and you shall have no worries of me, and I shall not pine for you or begrudge the enjoyment you receive from your lover, and to all eyes, when e’er we must be seen together, we will display to them the view of a blissfully wed couple. The perfect pairing.”
* * *
Morgunn didn’t know what scared and angered him more, the unrevealed, and numerous, carnal encounters his wife had had with an unnumbered variety of men, or the fact that she could so easily toss him away, like so much refuse, with no more than a blink of an eye.
“I love you Gwynlyan. Do you still love me?” The words slipped out, had been less than a thought, but had somehow made their way into the space between them, and he felt them settle there, bare and unarmed. Would she flay them, or would she nurture and hold them close?
Her answer was not in words, but in her eyes. They filled with tears as she gazed at him with a longing he’d thought ne’er to see from her again. He took a step toward him, and she took two toward him. Her chin quivered, her throat worked. And ‘twas only then that he realized his own eyes, his own chin, his own throat was reacting the same.
When they were no more than five paces from the other, she stopped. “I do love you, Morgunn. I ne’er stopped. I thought, when first I saw you again all those moons ago at the burn that aye, mayhap the love I’d felt for you had gone. Gone with my innocence, gone with my youth. But then you kissed me, you held me close, and the love, the connection to you all came clear once more, there where I’d left it buried, deep in my heart.”
Morgunn’s own heart swelled and he smiled for the first time in what felt like ages, but was no more than an hour, surely. He took another step forward, reaching out his arms to her, but she stopped him with a raised hand, saying, “I cannot now tell you all that you asked about that time, but I will give you one last thing, one thing at least that I can, a thing that is a proof, a small proof, that even with all that I was forced into, I did not willingly forsake you.”
She took him by surprise when she lifted her chemise o’er her head in a single sweep and dropped it to the floor beside her feet. His heart recoiled, not at the horror of the sight, but at the brutal, instinctive and gut deep recognition of the pain she’d suffered. These were not stripes from a crop, as the dark moonlit night had seemed to reveal, but pale red and white scarring from burns.
He went to her and settled a gentle hand on her waist, sliding it o’er the top of her hip, where the scarring showed most. Then he turned her and she willingly went, and he stared (he could not help but to do so) at the largest damage there on the curve of her back. “If he were not dead already, I’d torture him first, then kill him slowly and painfully,” he said at last.
“I thought you were dead,” she said so softly, he barely heard. “I thought: My husband is dead, and so is my soul. My daughter is safe in a nunnery, and of no further worry to Donnach. What matter it if I do this thing? If it kill me, fine; if it make me so hideous that Alaric no longer use me, allow his comrades to use me, that is fine as well.
Morgunn’s stomach lurched. His breathing turned erratic. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow. “You—” the word came out more as a whoosh of air, so he tried again. “You did this to yourself?”
She didn’t answer directly, simply continued on as if the confession might free her from what e’er ethereal prison had her still in its bonds. “It worked. For after that, he left me alone. Sent no healer, just let me lie there in my misery. I wanted to die, but it did not come to pass. When later, my body had healed itself enough for me to dress, I found I was left to myself most days and only when Alaric was in one of his rages did I see him again to receive his beatings, but ‘twas better than the other, and I found I could bear it well enough, for I was ne’er again made to pleasure any man in my bed.”
Again the tears clogged Morgunn’s throat, made it ache, again the frustrated anger, the absolute violent need to harm, maim, destroy, kill the man responsible for this traveled through him.
She turned and looked at him, saying, “Aye. And I know what you are thinking, but don’t. Think of this instead: If Alaric had done what Donnach had wanted, I’d be dead now. Instead, he took me, prisoned me, and aye, used me in ways I sometimes thought I would not be able to bear. But I did. I did bear them, and now here we are. Together—again.” Her hands gripped his arms, her nails dug into his flesh. “And we’ve won, Morgunn! Donnach is dead, Alaric is dead, the king, and the Cambel clan have given o’er to you the land and the power Donnach wielded. Let us only think on that, and from this moment forward, begin anew.”
“Aye, begin anew,” he said, and because he could no longer keep from doing so, he leaned down and settled his mouth on hers, trying with that kiss to show how deeply, how eternally, he loved her.
After a moment—a very splendid moment—she pushed him away and, looking him directly in his eyes, said, “We cannot go back. We ne’er can. That man and woman, the man and woman we were before, we are no longer them. We are who we are now, and I believe, if we are to make this work between us, build another strong, tho’ different, bond between us, we must agree to that before all else.” She paused, but only briefly, before saying with more force, “Can you accept me for who I am now, what I’ve done?” Her head turned so that she no longer looked directly at him. “For, if you cannot, say it now, and we will go on as I suggested before.” Her gaze lifted to his again, and there was a definite spark of purpose there as she said, “And ‘twill work, ‘twill work for us just fine. You shall see.”
“Never,” he said, “I’ll ne’er be satisfied to have you only in name,” and swept her up in his embrace and took her to their marriage bed once more to prove just that. “You are mine. For e’ermore. For always, and a day. I will have no others, for you are my perfection. My only true mate.”
Her smile faltered and she looked away. “Perfection. Nay, you go too far—the scars—”
”—Are beautiful. Are the scars received in a deadly battle. You are my warrior princess. You fought for yourself, and you fought for our love. Again, I say: They are beautiful. You, my love, my dearest, dearest love, are beautiful.” He tossed his shirt to the floor and climbed on top of her, pulling her arms o’er her head, so she could not escape, murmuring near her ear, “Now, now I will do to you all the things I have been dreaming of doing to you all these moons since first I saw you again.” He lifted his head and grinned down at her. “And this time, if you tell me I’m fucking you properly, I promise not to stop, all right?”
* * *
Gwynlyan’s heart raced with both dread and anticipation. “All right,” she said, closing her eyes. She was determined not to cringe from any touch Morgunn bestowed, but the effort made her muscles taut to the point that she knew he knew her fear. Yet, clearly, he was bent on seduction, for he said not a word, simply dropped his head down to run his tongue along the column of her throat until cold thrills ran up the length of her raised arms, rippled ‘round her nipples, and shot down to the core of her, leaving it in tingling, throbbing need.
Next she felt his large, calloused hand capture her breast and mold it in his palm, before the long-remembered, long-yearned for feel of his hot humid mouth took possession there as well. As he began to suckle and tug, stretching taut the strings of her desire until neither her will, nor her body, were her own any longer, she opened for him like the petals of a wild rose blossom, and he greedily took all that she offered, trailing his other hand o’er first one thigh then the other, before he pressed the heel
of it o’er her mons and began tracing the outer lips of her cleft with his blunt fingers, prying them open, teasing her there with light strokes, using the moist proof of her desire for him to ready her even further.
He swirled the pad of his finger o’er her clitoris and her thighs quivered. White spots of light bounced beneath her lids. A ragged groan escaped her throat. Still, she would not open her eyes, for she could not bear to see him ministering so lovingly to her grotesque form. For long moments more he continued to work on her, stringing her tight as a bow, one moment, then swiftly retreating, until his touch was so light, her body strained toward it. It made her skin mist with the exertion he put it through. Then, when his mouth left her breast to rise up and nibble upon her ear, before leaving her ear to tickle and twirl his tongue about her navel, her eyes flew open and a gasp of surprised desire ushered up from her throat, for she knew too well where next he’d land. She arched beneath him and he pressed his palms to her hips, forcing them back to the bed.
He touched his tongue to his fingers, damp with the dew of her arousal. “Your desire for me tastes as sweet as I’ve dreamed ‘twould all these lost years,” he rumbled, and the vibration of his breath and voice tickled her belly, making it quiver. “Let us see if I can make you come completely apart, love, for ‘tis truth, I’ll not stop until I do.”
Gwynlyan shut her eyes tight again, but with her blood so fired for him now, ‘twas beyond her to protest his purpose. For she wanted what he offered, wanted it with a need that clawed at her insides.
‘Twas not long before the feel of his bristled cheek abraded the tender skin of her inner thigh, before his fingers widened her further still, before his silken tongue began that torrid, carnal dance upon her sensitive flesh she’d known was his intent. He found the spot unerringly and her head went back with a guttural growl of intense pleasure. Her frame stiffened, her womb convulsed, and multiple starbursts, one after the other, erupted behind her eyelids.
The stars were still falling down all about her, leaving a silver-light glow within and without her in their wake, when he came up o’er her again and slid to the hilt into her still throbbing, still contracting sex. He rotated his hips at the same time he began to move inside her and it made her nerve endings tingle, made her canal grip him tight.
He thrust his hands through her hair, and plowed his tongue into her mouth as he took her with a force of need she’d not expected, yet made her burn for him even more.
“Yes,” she ground out, breaking the kiss to arch into him, “like that.”
But instead, he slowed the pace. She could feel his gaze on her, but still she could not find the courage to open her eyes. “Only if you look at me, love.”
She whimpered. Shook her head. “Nay. I cannot.”
He stopped altogether, making his earlier promise a lie, and she cried out, “Nay, please!” bucking beneath him.
But he only brushed the hair away from her forehead and placed a soft kiss there. She felt the touch of his own brow upon hers as he said, “I love you, do you love me?”
“Aye, I love you so very much, Morgunn.” At least that she could give him freely and without fear. “I need you. Please.”
“Aye, in time.” His lips brushed hers, his rough hands cupped her face. “What is more,” he continued, “I’ve given you my trust again. ‘Twas, I confess, seeing and knowing what you did to save your honor, save the purity of our love, that made me able to do so as quickly as I did. Otherwise—and mayhap you will not believe me on this, but ‘tis a truth that I know from the very center of my soul—it may have taken a small bit more time, a day, mayhap two, mayhap even a sennight, but soon after I would have done the same, whether you’d fought your captor’s wishes or nay. For you were just that, his captive, and I know you had no choice, and I know if you had not, ‘tis possible he might have killed you for the pleasure and the spite of it. And I cannot bear to think of a life without you in it, Gwynlyan. I cannot. For you are all that makes my life bearable, all that makes it whole. I cannot live without you. This. This I know for certain.”
Her heart thrummed in her chest with the riot of love she felt for him, with the joy and excitement of new beginnings. She gave him a smile and a nod.
“And you? Do you trust me, my love?”
Trust. How could he ask her that? After she’d bared her deepest shame to him, handed herself, her heart, her soul o’er to him? A fist of fiery anger settled in her middle. She did open her eyes then and pushed him off her. Flinging herself up into a sitting position, she covered herself without thinking, and said, “This has naught to do with trust, Morgunn. For if ‘twas a matter of trust, then I’d say we are near to even, for I wonder where you learned these new things you’ve tried with me just now? Did the woman who nursed you teach you such?”
* * *
Morgunn’s mind balked. He settled himself in bed much as his wife, tho’ with much less fire in his movements than she’d expressed, and much more outward calm, resting his back to the headboard while he thought how best to answer. Finally, he said, “ ‘Twas not with the nurse that I gained that knowledge, for I was much too weak, and still learning to reason and think well again while I was under her care.” He heaved a sigh and combed fingers through the short hairs on the side of his head. “But, aye, later. When I knew not for certain, but only hoped, that you’d somehow survived, I did succumb to my body’s urges. I did lay with whores. But when I discovered you still lived, I ne’er again broke our covenant.”
“So, you lay with whores to satisfy your urges, much as the men did with me?” There was venom laced in her tone.
He cringed inside. “ ‘Tis not the same, and you know it. The women were more than willing. I’ve ne’er forced myself on a woman. Never. And I ne’er will, either. I know. I know you know this.”
She gave him a grudging nod. It served to both answer him and prompt him to continue.
“Gwynlyan,” he growled in frustration. “Do you truly need to know more than that?”
She sat forward, clearly in a huff, and said on an almost yell, “Aye! Aye, I find that I do,” and beat her fist into the portion of mattress between them.
He growled on the exhale of yet another heavy sigh, but told her, “There were a few whores I had who’d learned their trade in the holy land, and had brought those skills with them. One—I forget her name now, but she was gentler in nature than the others—managed, with a bit more uisge beatha than I should have drunk, to pry some of the story of my heartache from me, but only just a bit, a small fraction, for even in my cups I knew ‘twas dangerous to reveal too much. I said only that I’d lost you and was looking for you. She misunderstood. Thought you’d fled our marriage. Said she knew just the trick to keep you in my bed, and crave no other’s. She was the one that taught it to me. I confess, I practiced it each time I took another whore clean enough, for I wanted, if e’er I was fortunate enough to find you living, to have you in my arms again, to give that gift to you. To bring you to rapture with only the touch of my tongue.”
“It worked well, all this practice,” she said into the yawning silence that followed. Blessedly, he heard a thread of humor running through her words.
He brought his gaze to hers and found mirth dancing in her lovely hazel eyes as well. A flood of relief crashed o’er him and he reached out, drawing her into his embrace. After settling a kiss on her brow, he murmured, “So, if ‘tis not a matter of trust, then why can you not look at me while I enjoy you?”
* * *
Gwynlyan tensed. She must answer him honestly, for he’d been so candid with her, she dared be naught less with him. Because I am too hideous to look upon. The words formed, then clogged in her throat, created a small whimper instead.
“Gwynlyan?” he prompted on a pained whisper. “Tell me, I beg you.”
She tore out of his embrace and rolled to her side away from him, not able to face him when she said low, “I hate what I look like now. I hate that my body is no longer lovely, as once it
was. I hate looking upon it, so I close my eyes against its ugliness, not.... Not against you. Ne’er against you. For you are handsome, and strong, and oh so appealing to me. You could have any woman you wanted. Why you still chose me, I cannot fathom. For, I know ‘twas my looks, the beauty of my frame, that drew you to me all those years ago.”
“Gwynlyan,” she heard him say, and there was a chastening tone in his voice when he said it. “Turn around and look at me.” Not waiting for her to comply, he dropped his hand on her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. She settled her gaze on his darkly handsome countenance and waited for what e’er lie he’d tell her now.
“We were bairns. Or just past it. Of course, I was drawn to your beauty, as many, many others were as well. And you, my love, were just as drawn to mine. You will at least admit that, will you not?”
She didn’t know where he was going with this, but she willingly admitted with a brief nod to her own initial reaction to him.
“And that, of course, is why you still crave me in your bed, love me, want to make a life with me? Because of my aspect?”
“Nay, ‘tis because you are the best man I’ve e’er known. ‘Tis because, when I am with you, I am happy. I am home.”
He grinned. “Good. Because, if the other were true, I’d begin to worry how you will feel when I am another twenty years older, grey-haired, and not so fit.”
She grinned then, too and lifted her hand to brush a lock of hair off his forehead. “Oh, I’d wager I’ll be wanting you to pleasure me as much then as now.”
He dropped a kiss on her nose, startled her by ripping the sheet off her body, and said, “Exactly how I feel about you.”