The Saxon Bride (The Norman Conquest Series)

by York, Ashley

  "I will go myself."

  "Take care, Mark."

  "It will be easier to travel unobserved alone, my lord. Fear not."

  John considered his own filthy condition as he made his way down the hall which led to his wife's chamber. She had not been present in the Hall and the looks her maidservant gave him would have had a lesser man fearing for his life. He knew he was in no condition to see his wife but he needed her.

  The room was warm and smelled of lavender when he opened the door. Rowena lay curled up on her side across the bed and did not move when he entered. Closing the door quietly behind him, John approached his sleeping wife. The tears covering her face gave him pause. Without thinking, he stroked her cheek, wiping the tear away. Rowena did not stir. Slowly he lowered his lips to her cheek and kissed her lightly. Her smell intoxicated—cider and lavender. She moaned lightly in her sleep. He resisted the urge to nuzzle her neck and lean her onto her back with his body. He took a step back, unsure he could resist the urge to caress her to wakefulness and take her as was his desire if he stayed in the room.

  John turned to leave. He had not noticed the tub before the fire. She must have intended to take a bath. It took but a moment to decide and he quickly doffed his clothes intending only to submerge himself for a moment. Standing naked in the middle of the room, he turned toward the bed and argued with himself. Rowena was his wife and he desired her. By all rights he could awaken her and see to his needs.

  He approached the bed. She looked like an angel, her lips slightly parted and her breath, warm against his face, smelled of brown bread and fresh butter. Just now noticing the food set on the table beside the bed, he realized he’d only had eyes for her. He stepped away from the desirable woman. His original plan to win her over was a good one, not tempting himself with her nearness. He submerged himself in the cold water which helped quench his desire. He rested his head back and closed his eyes. Turning his thoughts towards other things, John considered what would cause men to pillage the villages of their own people. What reward could be so great that a man would turn against his own people? Red-haired man. Could it actually be Arthur? The man had sworn his fealty to William or he would not have been given charge of Rowena's holdings. If he had Rowena as well…John looked toward the sleeping woman. He knew his mind would not rest until he knew for sure that Rowena had been faithful to her vows.

  What a hypocrite he was. Rowena was expected to be faithful to him but he knew he had not been so to her, not entirely. Abigail had really been a thorn in his side. She'd snuck into his room unbidden. Her smug look when he'd awoken said it all. She took great pleasure in convincing him of his desire for her.

  Rowena turning over in the bed brought him out of his own thoughts. He enjoyed the view. He longed to slowly caress that bottom and hold her tightly against him. John quickly dunked his head and lathered himself deciding it best to remove himself from temptation.

  He had his back to her as he quickly dried himself and began to dress. Her movements were getting harder and harder for him to ignore. Almost finished, the moan that accompanied her thrashing finally drew him to her, his boots still in his hand. It was the moan he remembered so well.

  He brushed her hair out of her face. She moaned again and he put his boots down beside the bed. He took her hand in his own resting it on his chest and lay beside her on the bed. Cradling her head against him, he ran his hand along her soft curves.

  "Shhh, Rowena. Calm yourself."

  Despite his intent, when she turned her mouth up to him, he could not stop from responding. His kiss quickly deepened and her willing response pushed him along. When she took his hand and brought it to her breast, he realized he was losing the battle. With acute clarity, he remembered everything about her that he had discovered that first day. She was a passionate woman. It had been too long. He was a starving man, desperate to have her. His kisses traveled the sensitive area of her neck, tasting her.

  "John, make me your wife now." Her throaty whisper intoxicated.

  He moaned in answer to her willingness. He would have her now.

  "Please. I need you," she said. "Do not go to another."

  Intent on his own desire, it took John a moment to register what she'd said. His kisses stopped suddenly. He withdrew his hand and shook his head.

  "Methinks I did not hear you aright."

  She pulled back from him and glancing around, her eyes widened in surprise. "What is amiss?"

  He lurched away from the bed. "I do not go to another."

  When it is only you that I want. His breath stopped.

  Rowena got off the bed, pulling her bodice back. "What?"

  John's breathing returned in a rush, distracting his thoughts. "You are making accusations against me ‘tis all."

  She tipped her head as if he spoke gibberish. "I was abed, my lord, I did not make any accusations."

  Raking his hand through his hair, he frowned. "I came in here and found you asleep, crying out for me."

  She glanced away, but her flaming cheeks spoke of her belief in what he said.

  "Then you told me not to go to another."

  "I cannot defend what I do not remember."

  "And yet you have the look of one that knows of dreams so deeply arousing that you cry out in your sleep."

  She turned away. "Aye, I know those dreams."

  He came up behind her, not daring to touch her again. "And in your dreams do I go to another?"

  Rowena inhaled a shaky breath. "That is the way of it, methinks."

  "It is not." John spun her to face him. "Why would you think so little of me? When have I given you reason to doubt me?"

  §

  Rowena was becoming used to her lust filled dreams. She had not realized why they suddenly felt so real. They were real. It was his hand on her breast, his lips on her mouth. The sincerity in his expression now could not be denied but Rowena knew better.

  She looked askance at him. "Husband, you have not been here." She motioned to the bed.

  "Do you think me an animal, rutting about, with no control? I have not been seeking pleasure elsewhere whilst you pine away for me here." He pulled his tunic over his head, shifting uncomfortably. "You are my wife. It is you that denied me."

  "Until we knew each other better, yes, but there has been little evidence of you seeking to change that fact."

  He pointed to the bed. "But now you would have me take you when you believe I am unfaithful to you?"

  She threw her long hair over her shoulder. "I believe any man would take what I offer."

  "So you believe me to be unfaithful to you?" He shook his head then realized what else she had said. "What man have you made the offer to?"

  Rowena seemed stricken by the accusation. "What are you asking?"

  John's hands were gentle on her shoulders as he pulled her against him. He leaned his face into her hair and spoke quietly.

  "I do desire you, Rowena." A shiver worked its way down her spine. "I am bursting with desire for you." His voice was a whisper against her cheek. "I do not understand what game you are playing at."

  She stilled, exhaling on a puff of air. Games were of no interest to her. Her head dipped in defeat. "Leave me."

  Chapter Sixteen

  The woman in his arms needed him. His wife. She wanted him for who he was. Could he let her turn him out? Should he walk away? His hesitation lasted but a moment. Determination took its place.

  "I will not be leaving you alone, Rowena."

  He slid his hands down her sides, feeling the curves he remembered from their fleeting encounter. She shivered. Slowly he turned her to face him, slipping his hand across her flat belly, brushing against her breast. She stiffened but her eyes remained downcast, as if to hide what she felt.

  "I will not be leaving."

  Torn between pulling her up against him so she could feel the power of his desire for her or insisting she admit if she'd been unfaithful with Arthur ripped at his insides. The bed loomed behind her, beckoning
him to forego any conversations and just take her now and find out for himself.

  John moved stiffly to the stool in front of the fire, exhaling deeply before he finally spoke. "We need to talk."

  Her head shot up. "What do we have to talk about?" Rowena's clenched her jaw. "I am your wife but you have no need of me. It is a man's prerogative to cast aside his wife."

  He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, before opening them. "I have not cast you aside."

  "No?" Her eyes narrowed. "I have no better word for it."

  "I think we need to begin anew."

  "Anew? Where you accept me as your wife?"

  "I am pleased with you as my wife. I am sorry I have not been here sooner to fulfill my rights."

  She gasped. Her eyes widened. "Your rights? You walked away from any rights and yet I still would willingly accept you, even now, but no…" She gestured at the bed with jerky motions. "Here. Now. But you refuse. If that is not casting me aside then I verily must be daft."

  "Cease this. I did not refuse. I do not wish to play with words." He stood in front of her, blocking her path. "Hear me." He cupped her cheek, her jaw tight beneath his hand. "I am very pleased with you but I do not share what is mine.”

  Her warm skin was smooth as silk and he traced her lips with his thumb. Those supple lips begged for his kisses. The memory of her passion-filled moan echoed in his mind as if he'd just heard it. He licked his lips and fought against his desires. Would it matter? If she'd been with Arthur? Damn it. Yes! But he would not let her go. He could not. She was everything he wanted.

  "You must be truthful with me about what Arthur means to you."

  Her face screwed up into a frown. "Arthur?"

  He couldn't keep his hands off her and caressed her cheek, tracing along her jaw. "Do you have feelings for him?"

  "He was my friend." She eyed him warily.

  "Is that all?"

  She lowered her head. "He was my protector."

  "That is all?"

  She nodded, still not meeting his gaze.

  Something was amiss. "He has not touched you?" John dragged his finger down her neck, pausing where her blood pulsed, quickening.

  Heat flushed her face.

  "Has he taken you into his arms?" John forced himself to continue breathing. He did not want his suspicions to be correct. He wanted her to be his, untouched and pure.

  She hesitated. "Yes."

  His nostrils flared but he kept his voice steady. "Has he caressed you here?"

  He brushed his hands over her breast, one and then the other. She was exquisite and he wanted to flatten his hand against her, cupping her. He couldn't give in yet. Not until he knew for sure, but his reasoning was becoming harder and harder to remember.

  She opened her eyes and held his gaze. "Not like you touch me."

  The words hung in the air between them. Rowena had been intimate with another. Like a dagger in the gut, John's entire body froze as he considered the implication of what she was admitting. Arthur had touched her then. He jerked his hand away from her.

  "How was it different?" Hearing again the sound of her moan, his longing for his wife burst into full desire. The way she had looked with her eyes closed, her lips parted and the sound of her longing. He would surely die if he didn't have her now. "Answer me."

  Her eyes did not even blink. "I did not feel this way with him. His touch meant nothing to me."

  His touch meant nothing. God, he wanted her anyway. He needed to be tasting her and caressing her, bringing her passion to full bloom but he needed to hear everything. "How did he touch you?"

  "He held me in his arms. He kissed me." She gripped her hands tightly. "He tried to coax me into desire. I felt nothing." She sniffled loudly. "He had told me he loved me. When you came back and did not come to me," she wiped at her nose, "I thought I could love him but I felt nothing for him. His kiss on my lips disgusted me. His touch was wrong." She picked up her head, imploring him with her eyes. "I am ashamed at my weakness. I have been alone for so long, I wished only to be loved."

  I have been alone for so long.

  He understood her pain.

  I wished only to be loved.

  He knew that longing first hand.

  "You have done nothing wrong, my lady." She was his lady, his wife, and he wanted to fill her desire to be loved. The realization made him feel very vulnerable.

  "You did not desire him," John's voice was steady, firm. "Your desire is for your husband, as it should be."

  Satisfaction filled his chest and he pulled her in closer, working his fingers beneath her long hair, rubbing little circles against her sensitive neck. He nuzzled against her neck and he was surrounded by her scent. "I desire you as well, my love."

  When he turned her face to him, she resisted slightly, but then he kissed her and she relaxed in his arms. Her lips were soft and yielding, and he teased her with his tongue. She opened her mouth to him. He slid his hand to her breast, its weight fitting so perfectly in his hand. Her nipple responded to his touch, hardening into an eager nub that he longed to suckle. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down ever so gently. He lay down beside her without taking his lips from hers.

  She was absolutely perfect from the taste of her mouth to the softness of her hair. Her tongue met his and he deepened the kiss. He dragged his hands down her body finally cupping her bottom, pressing her against his firm desire. He shuddered. He wanted her like he'd never wanted anything before.

  His breathing was ragged when he broke the kiss. He stared into her eyes. "You do desire this?"

  She nodded and closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up for his mouth again. He kissed her back but it wasn't nearly enough. He had to touch her. What he wanted was her naked beneath him, writhing with desire, and begging him to enter her. No. He wanted to be inside her already.

  He dragged his hand along her slender calf, pulling the chemise up as he went. Her bare skin his to touch, so soft and inviting. At her hips, he slid his hand along her thighs, grasping her bottom. Arching her back, he suckled her breast, slipping his hand between her legs to her heat. She was wet and warm.

  The memory flooded back. He'd wanted her then and he wanted her now. His finger slipped inside and she gasped, bucking slightly.

  "Do not be afeard, let me love you."

  He pulled back and looked at her lovely face, her lips parted, her eyes wide and innocent. "I will make up to you all these years of waiting. That is my promise to you." He whispered the words against her mouth, plundering her with his tongue as his finger did the same.

  She responded with soft moans, her hips urging him on.

  "That gives you pleasure?"

  She nodded, unable to speak. He sped up his movements, holding her tight against him, until she worked into a rhythm that matched his. Her breathing quickened, becoming more labored and he put his mouth near her ear.

  "Yes, my love, let me know your pleasure. Let me hear your moan."

  And she did as her hips pitched up one last time, held against him by her climax. Her moan was sweet to his ear and he fought for self control. He breathed, his open mouth, trying to remember how the cold water of the loch felt in winter—anything to keep his mind from letting his body find its release.

  She exhaled a shaky breath, her hands still rubbing little circles into his shoulders. He worked the chemise the rest of the way over her head, nearly exploding with his desire at the sight of her nakedness once again. It was bittersweet and his agony seemed like just payment for her abandonment. He tossed her chemise but when he would stretch out beside her, she pulled back.

  "This does not seem good to me."

  He'd done something wrong? He couldn't think of what it was.

  "Why am I naked but you are not?"

  He sighed in relief and quickly doffed his own clothing then stretched alongside her, taking her into his arms again. Her mouth was eager on his, her hands sliding across his ches
t and lower. He grabbed her hand.

  "Best not to tempt fate."

  "I do not understand. I want to touch you."

  "This may not be the best time."

  "Why?" she glanced at his erection. "I am not afraid."

  That was all he needed to hear and she was under him. His mouth on hers as his hand moved to cup her buttocks, then gripping her thighs and spreading them so that he dipped between her legs, the head of his tarse at the juncture of her wetness. She stilled suddenly.

  "Perhaps I am afeared."

  He looked down into her face, a crease marked her forehead and she nibbled at her bottom lip.

  "There is only one first time. You do not know what to expect this time, but I tell you it will be more pleasurable than my finger was."

  "But…it is so big. Will it rip me asunder?"

  He leaned away so that his ready cock was easily visible. "Touch me then."

  "But I thought you said—"

  "Touch me so you see I am not made of wood but of flesh."

  He gasped when her fingers gripped him so hard, so sweet.

  His jaw clenched. "Do you see that I am flesh?"

  She caressed him gently, squeezing as she pulled, and he nearly exploded in her hand. He placed his hand over hers to still her movements. "If you have enough proof I will not rip you apart, may I please continue?"

  She beamed her smile and spread her legs wide. That was his undoing. So wet and ready he quickly entered her. She grabbed at his shoulder and gasped when he broke through her maidenhead. John had never been with a virgin before so he didn't know for sure how long her pain would last. Sweat broke out on his forehead. His heart seemed to burst through his chest, and his arms trembled where he held himself away from her and still.

  "Umm, is there more to it than this?"

  John sighed and dropped down on her. He rocked into her gently.

  "Oh, that is much better," she moaned and he moved more insistently.

  She arched her hips up to him, and he bit her neck. He couldn't hold back but he could feel her tight around him milking him in her climax and he let go with hard thrusts, finally spilling his seed into her until he was spent.