by Lois Bonde
“Yes,” he gasped.
When the sides were licked clean, she drew the tip of his shaft into her mouth and sucked on it. She tasted salty drops of dew as she drew her head back and then lowered it again. She relaxed her throat to take him in as far as she could. He was so thick and so long.
“Ach, Sweetling,” he cried as he sat up and lifted her up to the bed beside him. “I want a taste of the custard.” He licked his share from her breasts, sucking them gently, but by then neither could wait any longer. He lifted her and lowered her over his throbbing rod.
She cried out as he pressed her thighs down against him so she would take every inch of him inside her. Giving her a few seconds to get used to his presence so deep within her, he wrapped a big hand around each side of her hips and lifted. She quickly got the idea and rose on her knees, sliding up the length of him and then quickly dropping down. He reached out to hold her full breasts as she rode him. He squeezed them hard and didn’t let go.
“Ride me harder, harder,” he ordered.
Grabbing his raised arms for balance, she rode him as fast as if a hundred devils were chasing her. Holding her breath, she saw stars behind her eyelids and arched her head back, crying out with her climax. Moments later, he raised his hips and roared like a beast as he planted his seed deep within her.
Sated and limp with exhaustion, she slumped forward on his chest, her long red hair falling from its pins all around them.
The fire burned to embers as they slept. Later, they washed away the sweet juices of their lovemaking and moved beneath the quilt. The cool linens woke Catherine, but her Dream Knight was still in a deep sleep. She looked at him, his face and body relaxed and trusting as he lay beside her. Tears welled in her eyes. She loved him so, and she knew she would never forget him.
But their dream had to end. If she stayed longer, she would never want to leave.
“I’ll love ya forever,” she whispered.
Her Dream Knight didn’t stir. This might be her only chance.
She rose and quickly pulled on the delicate shift he had found for her after hers had been destroyed. She vowed to repay him some day for its use. She pulled on her gray dress and tugged at the laces on the back. She still wore the stockings he had loaned her. One more thing she would owe him for.
She picked up her heavy dark shawl and draped it over her hair and cheeks. At the door she looked back at her sleeping lover. She blew him a kiss and swiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Slipping from the room, she made her silent way out the front door.
Once outside, she tied on her heavy shoes and ran to the stable. She found her bridle hanging beside the stall where her horse slept.
“Sorry to wake you, old friend, but we must go. The time for dreams has ended. I must get back to the castle before Dream Knight gets into trouble.”
Toby bobbed his head up and down as if he agreed. She slipped on the bridle and led him to the mounting block outside. Climbing onto his back with ease, she rode along the grassy edge to the road where his heavy steps were quieted by the moist grass-covered earth. Once they reached the road and she was certain they were out of earshot, she dug her heels into his side.
“Home, my friend. Take me home,” she urged, as she had so often over the years. The horse knew exactly what she meant, and took off south at a steady lope.
Catherine was glad she had trained him so well. She could trust him to take her home—which was important—because at the moment the tears flowing from her eyes made it impossible to see where they were going.
* * * * *
When Sean awoke, the morning sun was already high. He couldn’t remember ever sleeping so soundly, nor could he remember his lust being sated so well afore that. He turned and saw the empty pillow beside his head and frowned.
An hour later, he was dressed and his stomach was full, but he still hadn’t found her. When he discovered her horse gone, he knew that she had left him. In a fit of rage, he slammed his fist into the post. As the pain shot up his arm, he cursed and cradled it in his other hand. He loved her, and yet he had let her get away without knowing who she was.
He straightened with a start. By the gods! He did. He loved her…and he would never see her again. Unless…unless he learned who she was and found her. But he couldn’t go looking for her now, even though he knew that the longer he waited, the farther away she could get. But he had no choice. He had to continue on to claim his bride before they sent out a party to search for him.
The dream he had enjoyed above all others was over.
That afternoon he readied his pack for the remainder of the journey. At first light the next morning, he rode south. He stopped only when necessary for his horse. He ate the meat pies Margaret sent with him, but throughout the meal he was remembering the small chops of two nights before that he had fed to his Sweetling. He’d loved to watch the rosy color of her cheeks deepen as she became more and more aroused.
All during the meal, he had become so aroused he was in pain. Only thoughts of Margaret walking in kept him from sweeping Sweetling onto the deep rug on the floor and having his way with her then and there.
Now as he rode toward his bride’s castle, he got hard just thinking about his Sweetling. In a way that was good because when he lay atop his unwanted bride, he would think of his dream love. It would be his Sweetling in whom he planted his seed. When spent, he would sleep and dream of her more.
Between rests his strong-hearted stallion rode at a steady gallop and they arrived at his intended’s castle in early afternoon. His men were glad to see him arrive safely.
“When ye dinna come on the appointed day, we were worried something had gone wrong,” his Man at Arms said. His speech was slightly slurred. Some of the men had tankards of ale in their hands. Several female servants were in close—very close—attendance.
Sean dismissed the idea of his being in trouble with a wave of his hand. “Tell the men to clean up. Ye all have a wedding to attend.” He glared at the women standing near. “And ye do, too,” he shouted. “I want the wedding to take place this afternoon. There is no sense delaying.” He left them scratching their heads at his unwarranted anger.
The servants fumbled and blathered about it being too quick to prepare anything, but Sean would not lessen his demands. Within minutes the whole household was thrown into a tizzy. The cook explained there was no time to prepare a wedding feast, but Sean assured her that the normal fare was good enough.
His bride had not yet shown herself for his inspection. Under any other circumstances, that would have irked him. But in this case, the longer he went without seeing her, the longer he could think about Sweetling. When his bride’s maid finally appeared in her place to welcome him, she was instructed to have his bride dressed and in the chapel in an hour.
Sean was shown to the master’s bedroom where he washed and changed into a clean kilt for the wedding. He fastened on the brooch at his shoulder and wished the wedding was already over. He planned the next few weeks as he buckled on his sword and checked the dirk in his boot. He would stay in the castle long enough to get her with child and then he would escape. In fact, now that he thought about it, he would only have to put up with his bride’s presence when he was trying to plant a seed within her. If she had daughters, he would have to return for a visit. But if she gave him two fine sons so he could count on an heir, he could leave her to do what she wanted and never have to come back.
The thought of not having to spend much time with her put a smile on his face as he strode to the chapel with his men.
* * * * *
Catherine’s eyes were red and puffy and there was nothing she could do to change that. Her maid helped her into the blue-green brocade gown that she would wear to the chapel. It had long sleeves and a comfortably high neck. She’d bound her breasts and felt satisfied that the men would not be staring at them. Her maid drew her hair into one long braid that flowed down her back with the long, green silk scarf that Catherine had brough
t from the hunting lodge woven into the braid. She prayed that seeing it would help her escape the reality into which she was marrying, and lose herself in the fantasy of her Dream Knight.
“What shall I do about your eyes?” her maid asked. “I’ve tried everything and they still show that you’ve been weeping all morning. Your voice is even hoarse and odd sounding, my lady.”
“I’m not convinced the brute will even notice.”
“He is a bit gruff, to be sure, but he’s handsome.”
Not as handsome as her Dream Knight, Catherine was convinced.
“I’ll wear this heavy veil to hide my red eyes. There’s no one to stop me and it will hide me from the world.”
“But this veil hides the world from you as well. I can’t make out your face, and ye won’t be able to see where you’re going.”
Catherine smiled. That seemed perfect to her. She wouldn’t have to look on her husband’s face until well after the wedding.
She shuddered to think of what would happen then. A public bedding was the custom thereabouts. Though the wedding feast would be an ordinary dinner because of lack of time to prepare anything more, there would be wine enough to give every man present lusty ideas. She would have to sit through the bold and bawdy comments while they were at the table. But that was as nothing compared to what would come next.
After the dinner while some restrained the groom, the remainder of the guests, men and women alike, would drag her up to his room and strip her of all her clothes. Tears burned again in her eyes when she thought of all the pinches and slaps she would be subject to. They would tear off the bindings from her breasts and grab for them as the boys did when she was young and unused to having them. When they had fondled her all they wanted, they would throw her onto the sheets and hold her down with her arms out to her sides and her legs spread wide, her most private parts open for all to see.
While she was on display for every lusty male to enjoy viewing, the others would bring the groom into the room. They would dispatch his clothes quickly, and this time the women would have their turns at fondling him and urging him on. By the time he reached the bed, he would be big and hard with the blood coursing through his veins.
With all the others crowded around, they would push him forward until he crawled on the foot of the bed and knelt between her thighs. She would feel the mattress give as his huge hands came down on each side of her. Whether he kissed her then or not, would be up to him. It mattered not because she would be lying there, spread open to his touch and his gaze, her teeth clenched and her eyes shut tight. With the crowd watching his cock surge and cheering him on, he would lower his hips and thrust his rod into her with no thought to her being ready to receive him or not.
With no maidenhead to breach, there would be no blood to show for the deed. She didn’t care if he complained that she wasn’t a virgin. She hoped that by then she could faint and not know what happened next. She didn’t want to feel the bouncing mattress as he pumped in and out of her. She didn’t care that he would buck and spill his seed into her. Let him. The sooner she gave him an heir, the sooner she could convince him to leave her alone.
But if she didn’t faint, she would feel his weight as he slumped down on top of her. The crowd around the bed would pull him off, and if he were too drunk by then to stop them, the lewd comments and fondling would start anew. The wine would flow and the bolder women might do their best to revive his cock for a second round. If she were lucky, he would chase them all away so the next time would be more private. She shuddered to think what he might do then when there was no one around to stop him. If he could take twelve women to bed with him, would he pound into her twelve times in the night without caring about her feelings?
“Time to go,” her maid repeated, jolting her from her dark imaginings.
Catherine looked into the looking glass, but could not see more than a shadowy image. Good, she thought. The veil is heavy enough to keep the real world out of sight for a while longer.
She rose and let her maid lead her to the chapel.
* * * * *
Sean stood at the front of the small chapel that was filled with his men at arms and the servants and neighbors who had come at short notice to see the wedding. They were a noisy crowd and most were well on their way to being drunk already. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and swore that if his bride didn’t show up soon, he’d paddle her backside until she learned to do his bidding.
He looked up when he heard the crowd quiet, and saw her standing in the sunlight at the door, clutching the arm of her frightened maid. She looked of average height, but slender. He could see that much with the setting sun behind her, but he could hardly tell what she looked like through the ridiculously thick veil she wore. Her maid dropped her hand and urged her to walk down the aisle, but when his bride walked straight into one of the wooden benches, the maid quickly delivered her to his side and ran back down the aisle as though a ghost were chasing her.
No more of this veil nonsense, he vowed. He reached for the bottom to lift it off when the priest began intoning his speeches. His bride turned away from him and faced the priest. Resigned at having to wait a bit longer, he turned to face him as well.
The ceremony was short, as Sean had insisted, and all that was required of her was to say yes to the promise to be spouse to him. With that one hoarse whispered word, she promised to obey him in all things and to be faithful only to him. At the end he nodded to the priest, took his bride’s arm, and marched out of the chapel.
In short order the excited and cheering crowd followed and gathered around them in the great hall. He dropped her arm and strode to his man at arms.
“See that dinner is served before any more ale, and keep the well-wishers all down here. I’ll not be disturbed for any reason. Is that clear?” he ordered in low tones. He didn’t want the crowd to realize that they were to be denied access to the marital bedroom tonight. They weren’t going to strip her and laugh at him for having to call her wife. He would let his men deal with their complaints. From the number of willing servants he saw about, he didn’t think they would be long without entertainment.
He returned to his bride’s side and grabbed her arm. Startled, she gave a little cry. Pulling her with him, he strode to the stairs. She stumbled over a chair and would have fallen had he not caught her. He cursed the veil and swung her into his arms. This time her cry of alarm was louder. Let her stay afraid of him. Her fear would make her more biddable.
At the master’s bedroom, he pushed open the door with his foot. He could hear the raucous comments of the others who had followed, eager to see the fun ahead. He stepped into the room and kicked the door shut, sliding the bolt home. The guests outside the door shouted their complaints, but his Men at Arms quickly took charge and sent them all down to dinner. After a few minutes, the din outside the door quieted.
He carried her to the bed and set her on her feet beside it. She backed up a step to gain her balance and bumped her hip against the bed. He heard her quick intake of breath as she stiffened.
Ach, she was only a frightened child. She probably didn’t like this idea any better than he did. He would have to make the best of it. Maybe with time they would get used to each other. They could at least learn to love the children they would produce together.
He turned away from her and removed his sword and laid it on the chair. He poured a mug of wine from the pitcher on the table. Drinking deeply from it, he stood staring into the fire. Maybe he should go away for a few years and then come back for her. Then she might be more amenable to being married, and she might have grown more attractive by then.
Catherine could see his outline against the fire. She shivered with cold, or was it fear? Thankful for all she had learned from her Dream Knight, she knew her duty. Her husband would be more caring of the servants who worked for her and the tenant farmers outside the castle walls if he were happy with her. He had already done her the greatest of favors by shutting out the gaw
king wedding guests who would have humiliated her.
While she couldn’t love him as she did her Dream Knight, she would love their children. And her husband would protect her with his name and his wealth. That would be enough to see her through this marriage.
She took a deep breath and began to undress, starting with her veil.
Sean heard a rustling of fabric behind him and turned. He watched as she removed the silver circlet on top of her veil. She reached to the hem of her veil and lifted it slowly upwards. He gulped down the last of his mug of wine and stood transfixed, watching her slow and tantalizing movements. He saw narrow hips draped with a skirt of attractive brocade. He could only hope those hips would someday cradle his heir.
The veil continued upward. Her waist was slender, he saw. A slender waist was good, he supposed, but when he saw her flat chest, he knew the rumors of her being a woman with a boy’s figure were true. He swallowed his disappointed groan, but didn’t take his gaze from her movements.
The creamy skin exposed above the neckline of the lovely dress looked almost inviting. He thought of the soft skin on his Sweetling’s breasts and his groin tightened. That was it. Think of his dream lover, not the woman before him, so he could bed her without embarrassing himself.
At her shoulders the piled up fabric became so thick that part fell from her grasp and covered one side of her shoulder again. He set down the mug he’d been holding with a bang and strode across the room to her. He saw her jump at the sound, but didn’t comment. He impatiently jerked the fabric from her hands and flung it back over her head where it floated to the floor.
He saw her red hair first and his heart skipped a beat. He stepped back and looked down into her face. His heart stopped. He could not draw breath.