Jemma whimpered, trying to move away from him, trying to escape the sensual assault. But he held her firmly, whispering to her in an even, soothing tone even as he began to move within her once again. But she had begun to cry and he stopped his movements, kissing her tears away.
“I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I know it hurts, sweet, I know.”
“I dunna want to do this anymore.”
“It’s all over, the pain is all over,” he kissed her gently. “Just lie there and enjoy it, now. Trust me.”
She shook her head and he laughed low, waiting a good long time for her to grow accustom to him before moving within her again.
She was small and tight and it was the most incredible pleasure he had ever known. Never in his life had a woman given him so much pure pleasure and he wished he could tell her that, but she probably would not understand. But more than that, he had claimed her for his own and never would another man mark what he had taken; she was his forever.
True, the stabbing pain had subsided but Jemma still felt as if she was being stuffed full. When he began to move, she tried to lie still and wait for it to end, but somewhere in the process a strange fire started low in her loins and she realized her legs were wrapping around him of their own accord. His hands gripped her buttocks and she was aware that her hips were grinding against his own. It was new and wonderful.
He was terribly heavy on her and he was aware of it. He suddenly stopped and held her to him, moving to sit back on his knees and putting Jemma on his lap, still embedded in her. He was afraid if he withdrew she’d never allow him in her again. But she sat on his thighs, gazing back at him with a seductive look and he was seized with lust and desire. His thick arm held her against him as his free hand sought out her large breasts, suckling her nipples as he began to pound into her again.
Jemma hung her head back, her hair tickling the tops of his thighs as she came to like the sensation of him inside her. He was huge and she felt a raw, but his big body wedged into her most private orifice was becoming a marvelous experience.
His thrusts became extremely forceful and he held her hips, his eyes focused on her bouncing breasts every time he drove into her. Jemma gripped his neck, letting him do all of the work because he knew exactly what he was doing, how to make her feel wickedly womanly. The fire in her loins, the pressure built into a peaking tingling sensation and suddenly she felt her whole body go stiff, a wildfire of turbulent pleasures rippling through her small body. Her mind went black, the only thing of any importance being this most electrifying excitement and she boldly wished for it to go on and on, to never end. She heard herself telling Kieran just that.
He felt her spasms and the erotic words that spilled forth from the delicious red mouth and was lost in a violent surge of thrusting, shooting his seed deep into her womb and groaning with satisfaction. Never, never in his life had he experienced something so completely satisfying, emotionally and physically. He was so content that he was shaken.
They clutched each other fiercely, for an eternity, neither one of them uttering a word. In faith, Jemma was still quite dazed as Kieran raised her face up to his.
“Are you all right?” he asked with a smile.
She nodded. “Aye.”
He pushed her hair off her face. “I am sorry it had to hurt so much. You know I would not hurt you for anything.”
“I know,” she said. “It passed and…I liked it.”
He laughed softly. “I know,” he said, his hands still in her hair. “Tell me you’ll marry me, Jemma.”
Her eyes opened wide and her mouth dropped. “Marry ye? Well…yes, of course, but when?”
“Whenever you decide,” he said, kissing her. “I shall leave that up to you.”
She looked doubtfully at him for several moments. “Are ye sure ye want me? After all, I speak my mind and….”
He kissed her again to shut her up. “And I love you that way.”
Happily, she threw her arms around his neck. Her Sassenach knight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The day was warm and sunny as Jordan and Aloria entered the inner bailey of Northwood. In the shadows it was cool, but as soon as they walked into the direct sunlight it was enough to make one sweat. They were silent as they walked and every so often, Jordan would glance behind her at the three knights. They would gaze back helplessly, wanting to tell her just what they thought of her new lady, but wisely kept silent. There was nothing any of them could do about it.
When the silence became uncomfortable, Jordan took to politely pointing out items she thought Aloria might find interesting. Aloria would nod shortly but remained quiet unless absolutely necessary. Jordan began to feel as if she were talking to a wall.
Jordan’s favorite place by far was the outer bailey and all of its activity. Peasants were bustling busily about and she often wondered what on earth kept the peasants so busy; they always had something to do.
She stopped at the little lean-to where the man with the mercantile kept his wares; she loved his shop best of all. He had all sorts of interesting little things along with bolts of material and she loved to inspect his stock.
The man, a thin fellow with receding hair, greeted her familiarly and began to show her his latest acquisition: perfume from the continent. Delighted, Jordan took to trying every bottle he had, and when she ran out of space on her arms, she put it on Deinwald. He, of course, was horrified, but in truth he liked the attention so he let her touch him with the oil and then smell it on his skin.
Aloria hung back, out of the way, watching her new mistress and the knights. She was such a beautiful, happy woman that Aloria was jealous and curious at the same time. She wished she could be like Lady Jordan, but she knew she had not the charm or the beauty. But it was more than physical beauty; it was the way she talked, the silly way she laughed, and the charming smile that came from within. They were signs of a very content, very happy lady.
Still, she wished she could laugh and joke with men the way Lady Jordan did, improper though it might be. She found herself watching with fascination.
Deinwald, smelling strongly, finally bowed away and Jordan grabbed Michael’s big arm so that she could smell the last two bottles. She would sniff and approve or disapprove, and then the knights would smell the scent and give their opinions. Not all opinions matched, however, but Jordan finally decided on three different fragrances. After the perfume, she delved into the new fabrics the man had.
A shadow fell across the doorway and everyone turned to see William crowding the opening with his massive frame, smiling at his wife.
“Well, hello, English,” she said gaily. “Come and see what I am to buy.”
He raised an eyebrow, entering the cramped space and highly aware of Aloria’s presence. “What now, my lady?”
He called her ‘my lady’ and Jordan suddenly remembered Aloria’s presence, too. She pointed to the bottles of perfume. “Look at these wonderful perfumes,” she said, turning to Michael. “Hold out yer arm and let him smell.”
Michael rolled his eyes comically and held out an arm to the captain. William cocked an eyebrow at his knight, although Michael refused to look at him, and took a quick sniff.
“Pleasant enough,” he observed. “But why is Michael wearing it?”
“Because I am already covered with the stuff,” she held up her arms to emphasize her point. “Deinwald is wearing perfume, too.”
William cast a reproving eye at his knights. “Good God, I shall be beating the men-at-arms away from them. What about you, Marc? Haven’t you been roped into this, as well?”
Jordan turned around, a large measurement of rose-colored fabric held up in front of her. She immediately put it against Marc, just under his neck and looked at it thoughtfully.
“What are you doing?” William asked on behalf of his knight.
She pursed her lips as she thought. “Seeing how well this color goes with his skin tone. His skin is fair, like mine, and our coloring is nearly th
e same. How does it look?”
William shook his head faintly in defeat. “He looks charming,” he said, backing away as she returned the material to the merchant.
“I think so, too,” she looked at the shopkeeper. “I shall take all ye have of that. And the blue, too,” she glanced at William, “for Jemma.”
William gave a feeble shrug, watching her barter for the price. When the amount was finally agreed upon, she noticed a tray of bracelets she hadn’t seen before. With a cry of delight, she began to inspect the bangles and bade Aloria to join her.
William turned to watch the big woman as she respectfully moved past him and quietly appraised the jewelry. He stood, arms folded across his chest, watching his wife and her new lady-in-waiting intensely, looking for any signs of discord or trouble. He had not met this woman yet and was displeased that already the lady was allowed such close access to his wife before he’d had a chance to interview her.
Jordan turned to her husband, her hands full of bracelets. “Lend me yer arm.”
He cleared his throat, knowing it would be useless to argue with her. Obediently, he extended his huge arms and she immediately put a bracelet on his wrist, but it was the only one that would fit. She scrutinized the bangle before removing it and spared William any more embarrassment.
Aloria, however, soon found herself up to her elbows in bracelets while Jordan tried to decide which one she liked best.
After a minute she pulled them all off and handed the one she liked best to the merchant. “That one,” she said decisively. “Now, if ye would please add it all up and tell me what I owe ye, I shall thank ye.”
The merchant nodded happily, for it was a large sale. William groaned inwardly, wondering just how much this was going to cost him. His wife had one vice and one vice only; she was a slave to dresses and pretty jewelry and feminine frills. But, then again, so was he.
Michael had the material and Deinwald carried the vials of perfume as if they were made of gold. Jordan swore if he dropped them that she would personally kill him. She wore her new bracelet, the rough-cut sapphire and silver gleaming under the warm sun. William bade his two knights to return the goods to Jordan’s rooms while he and Marc continued to escort the ladies about.
Jordan was eyeing the cobbler’s shed and he caught her look. “What are you going to buy now, my lady?” his voice had a warning tone to it.
She caught the inflection in his voice and quickly looked away. “Nothing,” she said, looking for a change of subject. She turned to Aloria, slightly behind her. “Is Northwood much different from Windsor?”
“Aye, my lady,” she answered. “Windsor is much, much larger.”
“And ye like it there?”
Aloria’s eyes snapped to her new mistress and Jordan caught a glimpse of something, be it sadness or hostility. “It was my home, my lady.”
She answered her, but without truly answering the question. Jordan began to wonder if Aloria didn’t leave a lover behind and resented her new mistress greatly for it, for she was certainly stiff and formal enough.
“Being the queen’s lady must be exciting,” Jordan took William’s arm unconsciously. “I shall wager ye’ve traveled far and wide and seen a great many things.”
Aloria didn’t notice Jordan’s action; she was watching her feet. “ ’Tis an honor to serve the queen, my lady. She is an educated and gracious lady, as is the king.”
“Are ye educated, Aloria?” Jordan asked, knowing the English did not encourage education for women.
“I can read Latin, French, and English,” Aloria replied. “I have had a good deal of practice writing, as well. Why, King Henry himself taught me to read Latin. He is quite fluent, more than most priests.”
Jordan nodded before she truly thought of the contents of the answer. Then, slowly, a dawning horror filled her veins. Latin. The false wedding ceremony tomorrow would be in Latin, and the king was fluent in it. What if he didn’t fall asleep as the earl promised, and furthermore paid close attention to what was being said? What if…?
Her head snapped to William just as his eyes found hers, silently imploring her to be silent and calm. His thoughts were exactly the same, as if they were reading one another’s mind, and he was near panic trying to think of a solution. But he remained outwardly cool, praying Jordan would remain the same. The woman could panic so easily that he hoped she would be lucid enough to control herself.
Jordan started to quiver; he could feel it through his thick leather gloves. “What other languages does our king speak?” she asked Aloria, with nary a quiver.
Bravo, Jordan. William applauded silently, thrilled that she had the presence of mind to think clearly and formulate a plan to gain useful information. He felt himself washing with relief, feeling hopeful that together he and his wife could come to a plausible solution.
Aloria looked thoughtful. “Aside from the languages I mentioned, he speaks Italian and German. Our king is exceptionally educated.”
Jordan nodded. “He doesna speak Gaelic?”
“Surprisingly, no,” Aloria said. “He has never had the interest. He believes it a harsh language, and he is not fond of Welsh, either.”
Gaelic. Jordan passed her husband a slow, knowing glance and he fought the urge to kiss her soundly for her quick thinking. Good God, the woman could think quickly on her feet when she set her mind to it.
The rest of the walk went pleasantly enough. William and Marc returned the ladies to the front doors of Northwood, and Marc discreetly excused himself, while Aloria stood next to her mistress and eyed William impatiently. William saw the look and knew exactly what the woman was doing.
“Lady Aloria, you are excused,” he said. “I will see Lady Jordan up in a moment.”
Jordan winced, wondering if Aloria would challenge William’s authority in this matter. She soon found out; much to her dismay, Aloria planned to do just that.
“Begging the Captain’s pardon, but it is not proper for the future countess to be seen alone with another man other than her husband,” she said bravely.
Trouble was, she was absolutely right. William cocked a slow eyebrow at the woman, hoping that she would back down by sheer intimidation.
“My lady, I have been Lady Jordan’s personal protector and champion since her arrival,” he said steadily. “She has seen two attacks on her life and the orders from the earl are that she is never, ever to be without a knight for protection. Am I making myself clear?”
Aloria nodded; she knew of this man and his reputation and was hugely intimidated, but she also knew her duty.
“Aye, my lord, I understand, but the fact remains…,” she went on.
William stopped her. “The fact remains that she is far safer with me than with you, considering we know nothing about you,” he meant it as an insult. “Therefore, until such a time as you can be deemed trustworthy, I will continue to have free access to Lady Jordan, day or night.”
Aloria’s face turned red. “The queen considers me trustworthy, sire, and her authority exceeds yours,” she shot back. “If you find my presence so difficult, then you will have to discuss it with her. Until such time as I hear differently, I will staunchly refuse to allow you, as you called it, ‘free access’.”
Jordan cringed. She was standing in between them and felt William reach down and pull her out of the way. He towered over Aloria, his beautiful face dark.
“It is not your place to give me orders, woman,” he growled. “You can make this easy or you can make it difficult; the choice is yours. You must trust me enough to know that I would not compromise Lady Jordan’s reputation or station. I am not a dimwit and I understand protocol better than you do. Take that tone with me again and you risk a great deal.”
Shaken, Aloria felt as if the hazel-gold eyes were burning her. “Forgive me if I have acted disrespectfully, my lord, but I only have Lady Jordan’s best interests in mind. And I must still refuse you free access.”
William glared at her a moment longer and sh
e truly thought he might strike her, but instead, he turned abruptly on his heel and disappeared into the castle.
Aloria let out a relieved sigh, realizing that she was shaking with fear. Jordan looked back at the woman impassively, although she was impressed to see that she had stood her ground against William. Foolish, but brave.
“He’s a nasty one,” Aloria murmured.
With a grin, Jordan brushed past her. “Not really.”
*
Jemma was sitting in front of her loom when Jordan and Aloria returned. Kieran had been gone a good half-hour, leaving Jemma alone to bask in her newfound happiness. Her cheeks were a perpetual pink, evidence of the new light from within and she hummed cheerily as she worked. Never had she felt so entirely content.
But her good humor fled and she stiffened when Aloria came into the room, glaring at the woman with tangible hostility. Jordan noticed right away, hoping she would not have to referee any fights. It seemed that ever since Aloria’s arrival, the woman had done nothing but ruffle feathers and Jordan was concerned that she might have to play the peacemaker between her and the others. It was not a position she wanted to find herself in.
But she pretended not to notice the animosity as she kicked off her slippers and sat down to her sewing; she was embroidering the cuffs of a dress Joana had made. Aloria, seeing that her mistress was busying herself, pulled a piece of needlepoint from her belongings and sat primly in the corner as she worked quietly.
There were a thousand things Jemma wanted to tell Jordan, and vice versa. But they kept silent with the strange woman in the room and focused their attention on their sewing. Yet it didn’t keep the glances from passing between them.
“Where did Kieran go?” Jordan asked her cousin.
Jemma’s face came up and she knew she was blushing. “I dunna know. Off to his duties, I suspect. Where is Analiese?”
“Tending our queen,” Jordan said. “She has always wanted to go to court, ye know, and now she actually has a chance to serve the queen while she’s here. She’s in heaven.”
The Original de Wolfe Pack Complete Set: Including Sons of de Wolfe Page 87