“Here now, my lord,” Margaret said, walking to him. “Allow me to take that for you.”
Lara blinked and then noticed the tray in his hands. He carried some kind of broth, a small loaf of bread and a wedge of cheese there. He’d brought food here?
“I noticed that you did not eat much at table. ‘Twas probably due to the company.” The corners of his mouth curved into a smile—an attractive smile that warmed her. Before continuing, he nodded to the maid, who took the tray and placed it on the table. “Hugh waits below stairs for you.”
“Margaret…”
Lara thought to stop her maid from making the same mistake she had, but from the expression of joy on Margaret’s face, it truly was too late. Sebastien closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
“They are in love.”
“Hugh is a mercenary who will travel all over the land, fighting wherever and whenever and for whomever can pay his fee. He will not marry her.” Her conviction was such that she shook with the words she spoke.
“They have a place here and wish to marry, but have feared asking your permission.”
His announcement, almost whispered, struck her like a blow. Margaret had said not a word of this to her. Lara had spoken to her maid on the subject many times and, in a strange way, she’d hoped that it was simple lust. Lust would be easier to recover from when the worst happened. She drew back from the hurt that Margaret had not confided in her, and looked at him.
“But, as this shows, you are lord here and they need not my permission for anything.”
Sebastien approached and took her hands in his, holding them firmly as if he suspected she would withdraw them from his grasp. “You are lady here and in charge of the women. She is your maid, Lara. I would never give her permission when it is your place to do so.”
“My place?” He confused her constantly with his attitude. “But you are lord here now,” she repeated, trying to convince herself more than him.
“Aye, and you are Lady of Dunstaffnage. All you have to do is take your place at my side to make it so.”
“Your words make it sound as though it is easily done.”
“’Tis not easy, Lara. But it is your place and I would have you there.”
Standing with him, as he offered her everything she had truly wanted in her life, she could not find the strength to refuse. Her throat tightened and she could not get the words out. He opened his arms to her and she stood and walked into his embrace.
She felt his strength surround her, and for the first time, allowed herself to feel some bit of hope that this could all work out between them. Lara felt his hands tangle in her hair, and slid hers around his waist, holding him as he held her. Laying her head on his chest, she listened, or rather felt, his heart beating strongly there. His body was all hard muscle beneath her hands, and she allowed some of his strength to seep into her, into her heart and soul.
After a few minutes, he freed her hair and leaned away. Her body reacted on its own, following his direction to keep him close. He chuckled under his breath and untangled himself from her hold. “Come. It has been an arduous day for you. ‘Tis time to rest.”
He took her hand and led her to the bench where she’d been sitting until Margaret left. Grasping her shoulders, he turned her away and she felt his fingers move to the laces tied at her neck. With swift, nimble movements, he loosened them all the way down the back of her tunic. When she thought he would lift it over her head, he instead whispered in her ear from his place behind her.
“Do you know what the Church calls this style of tunic you wear?” She shook her head. “The gates that lead men to hell.”
Lara looked down at the garment. “Truly?”
“Truly. One bishop in England has declared it a sin for women to wear it for it tempts men to lust and fornication.”
Lara felt ill-informed and unable to figure out how a tunic and gown that covered every inch of her skin and her form could be a temptation to anyone. “You jest, my lord.”
“Allow me to show you. Since we are married, it will not be too great a sin for me.” There was teasing in his voice, but heat, too.
She gave him the permission he sought, and felt his hands begin at her shoulders and slide down her arms until he reached her elbows. She could still see no sin in this touch. Then he slipped his hands inside the tunic, where it hung open under her arms. With his palms, he stroked her belly and nearly touched her breasts, but did not. Then his hands moved softly over the tops of her thighs and nearly touched the juncture of them, but did not.
Heat grew within her, spreading from his hands into her belly and breasts and that place between her legs. Over and over he teased her until she writhed under his touch. Pressed against his body, she could feel the proof of his lust and hear it in his breathing. Still he did not touch her as she wanted him to. Lara was about to beg him when he released her. Even that was a teasing, for he slid his hands slowly away from the places that tingled and ached for more, until the tips of his fingers barely glided over her.
“And that is why the Church decries this kind of tunic. Even you can see the danger to men’s souls if they are subjected to this kind of—” he did touch her then, reaching under the edge of the fabric and cupping her breasts in his hands “—temptation every waking moment of the day.”
“I had no idea of it, my lord,” she said in a voice that exposed her own sin of lust. “No idea at all.”
All he had to do was take her. She would not resist him if he wanted to finish it now. Indeed, her body, heated by his sinful caresses, was ready—hot and wet and willing.
And, as was his custom, he did not.
Sebastien moved his hands down her legs now, grasped the bottom of the tunic and lifted it over her head. Flinging it over the bench, he began working on the laces at her shoulders to loosen her sleeves. She waited for him to do something, attempt some provocative touch, but none came. A few minutes later, after removing the sleeves, he slid the gown from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
When she was dressed in only the sheer chemise she wore under her gowns, he turned her to face him. His desire for her, plainly written on his face, encouraged her own. But she was not as naive as he thought her to be.
“I know your methods now, my lord. You have some experience in the ways of the flesh and are teaching my body your ways while hoping I do not notice.”
He laughed and nodding, admitted it. “Am I succeeding in my attempts, my lady?”
Then, when she would have liked to deny him his victory, he untied his own tunic and pulled it over his head. His shirt was next, revealing the wide expanse of his muscular chest to her sight, and then his fingers reached for the laces on his trews.
“You triumphed weeks ago, Sebastien. I just did not know it.” She admitted the truth to him now. “You have pushed me to the edge of my own control and have won the battle. I hope it pleases you.”
He stopped and looked at her. His wicked smile spoke of his satisfaction in this battle of wills and wants. “Oh, lady, I am most pleased.” But instead of reaching for her as she expected, he walked to the bed and pulled the blankets loose. “Come, the room cools and the bed will be much warmer for us.”
Lara took the hand he offered, climbed onto the bed and slid over to the side where she usually found herself upon awakening. Sebastien turned away to tug off his trews, and then put out the candles that still burned and banked the fire in the hearth. She stared in fascination at the way his thighs and back flexed as he walked and how the color of his skin changed at his waist. Above was tanned from being in the sun; below was paler from not.
She noticed his reaction when he faced her; that part of him she’d felt against her back now stood straight up. He would fill the empty place in her that she had never even realized existed. In more ways than simply the physical way, he would satisfy her needs. “It is hard,” were the only words she could think to say.
“It is that, lady. As it has been almost from
the moment that I saw you on the battlements and you refused me entrance to your castle.”
“You desired me then?”
He climbed on the bed and knelt before her. “Aye, there was desire, although more than once I could not discern if the desire to kill you was stronger than the desire to kiss you.”
“And now?” she asked, needing no answer, for the proof was before her eyes.
Sebastien leaned forward and crawled over her legs. Grabbing her thighs, he pulled her down until she lay under him and then, grasping the edge of her chemise, he tore it until she was exposed to his gaze. He bent down and kissed her mouth. “I want…” he whispered as he moved his mouth to her neck. “I want to kiss you.” His mouth was hot and wet against her skin. “And taste you.”
Now he moved, kissing a path down her throat onto the slopes of her breasts. He suckled there, stronger and stronger, and he used his teeth against that skin until she thought she would scream. She did scream when his mouth covered the sensitive tips of her breasts, and instead of startling him, it seemed to urge him on. Moisture poured from that place between her legs and it began to throb and ache.
And still he used only his mouth. He pressed his face against her belly and then held her hips as he rubbed his chin against the place between her legs. Surprised by his actions, she discovered that the pressure created by his chin and the roughness of a day’s length of beard aroused her.
“And taste you,” he repeated as he moved between her legs and spread her open to his view and his touch. When he leaned down and suckled there, she could not control the spasms of pleasure that shot through her.
Lara tried to grab his hair to pull him away, even as she lost all desire to make him cease. He batted at her hands and, with a deep laugh, kissed and touched and tasted her in that most private place. Then, instead of stopping when her peak was upon her and filling her as he had before, he urged her over that precipice, making her body do as he wanted with a more insistent touch of his mouth and more ardent attention with his tongue.
When her body finally stopped spasming beneath his touch, she could not move. He still knelt over her and she waited for him to lie next to her. But, that part of him was still hard, and it looked larger than before. The expression in his eyes told her he was not done with her.
“I had no idea that a man could do such a thing to a woman.”
He smiled gently at her. “There are many things a man can do to a woman.” He kissed her belly and her body shuddered.
“Are there such things a woman can do to a man?” she asked, suspecting she already knew the answer…or some of it.
“Aye, Lara. Many things can be done.”
He kissed her on the mouth now and she could taste the musky flavor of her own release there. “Can you show me another?”
And with very little urging, Sebastien taught her many more things that could be done between men and women before they slept that night.
Chapter Thirteen
The first time he awoke, he found Lara draped over him, asleep. After offering up a short prayer of thanks, he fell back to sleep, for how long he did not know.
The second time he woke, it was to Margaret’s startled gasp at finding him and Lara still naked and entwined in their bed. With a shushing and a wave, he ordered her from the room. Although Lara mumbled a few words and shifted in his arms, she did not wake.
The third time he woke it was to the loud and not subtle presence of both Hugh and James in the next chamber. The subject of their discussion was not clear, but their intent to rouse him from sleep was. Sebastien eased Lara from his side and slipped from the bed. Striding to the door, he opened it and quietly cursed them both, warning them of a challenge later that day. He realized his mistake when Philippe, Malcolm and Margaret all met his gaze with incredulous stares. His body’s condition was apparent even to the youngest of them. He slammed the door just as the laughter began.
“What is going on out there?” Lara asked, rolling over and gifting him with the most wonderful view of her bare bottom and legs. His body responded to her voice and to the sight before him, but he knew he must leave her bed.
“Two men are asking for death,” he said, smiling at her.
“Do you leave with James this day?”
“Leave with him? Nay. Although I must leave on the king’s business soon, ’tis not now.”
She yawned loudly and stretched her arms out before pushing the hair from her face. The movement was so stimulating Sebastien decided his friends would simply have to wait until he was ready to leave her. When he lifted the blankets and climbed back in next to her, she moved immediately into his arms. And wonder of wonders, when she felt his hardness pressed against her hip, she rolled onto her back, opened her legs to him and pulled him on top of her.
Then, she startled him as he moved to accept her invitation and to fill her just once more. He felt the walls of her core begin to convulse and shudder within moments. Lara arched against him and it took barely a minute before his own release. Nothing had ever felt so right to him before. No woman had ever felt like this. Sebastien could only describe it in his mind as finding a home.
Not wanting to rush, but mindful of those waiting, he lifted himself from her and kissed her softly. The wince that passed over her face told him that he may have been too aggressive with her in their love play.
“I apologize if I’ve hurt you, Lara. I have wanted you for so long, waiting for you to give yourself to me, that I fear I could not be gentle. Mayhap now that the commitment has been made, we can go a bit more slowly in our pursuit of all things between men and women.”
She blushed, probably thinking about some of the actions and positions that he had shown her. “Commitment? What do you mean?” Lara slid up to the headboard and dragged the blankets with her.
“You made your first commitment to me when we exchanged vows. The second time was yesterday, when you agreed to try to be my wife and Lady of Dunstaffnage. The most important one so far was when you trusted me enough last night with your body. And trusted me to teach you what could be between us.”
“So far? Is there more then?”
“You’ve given me your word and your actions and your body. Only your heart is left.”
“My heart? You would want my heart?”
“Oh aye.” He sat up and climbed from the bed, searching for and finding a new pair of trews to put on. Standing before her, he decided to tell her the truth of his life. “I grew up with nothing—a bastard whose mother married and had another family and five more children with her husband. My stepfather believed I would train with him to be a blacksmith, but I had no skill with the fire and iron.”
“And your natural father? Do you know who he is?”
“Aye. My mother served in the public room of her father’s inn. One of their guests, a nobleman traveling on King Edward’s business, availed himself of her favors.”
“Oh, Sebastien! Was she forced to it? Was there no one to protect her?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Forced? Nay, she gave herself freely to him, hoping to serve as his mistress and gain some measure of security that can come from that.” She frowned again. “Come, Lara. You know how that works. She caught and bore a bastard, one in a long line for my noble father. It happens wherever the noble class and those below are involved.”
“Like Margaret and Sir Hugh?”
“Just so, but he has made an honorable offer to her.”
“So, then, who is your father?” She had held the question within for an admirable length of time. Longer than most would. She looked at him with such an air of expectancy that he felt tempted to break his vow to never reveal his name.
“I swore a vow not to speak of him.”
Her lips thinned to a line much as Malcolm’s did when the lad was faced with something he did not like. Sebastien reached out to run his finger over them, hoping they would soften beneath his touch as her body had. When they did, his own body hardened once more. He must le
ave now or he would never escape the chamber this morn.
“I did not begin this tale of woe to gain your sympathy,” he said, pulling a shirt and then a shorter tunic over his head. “I did it to explain that I want it all.” He wrapped the thick leather belt around his waist and buckled it. Sebastien reached under the bed to retrieve his sword and slid it into the scabbard on his belt.
“For so long, I denied that anything about this kind of life—” he waved his hand around the room to show her what he meant “—was appealing. I had the life I wanted—I was a warrior on the good side of the battle, giving my talent with the sword to a man I believe in. I owned my horse, my armor and anything I could carry with me. All I needed.”
She nodded, but he could read her expression and knew she did not understand. She was trying, though, and that touched his heart.
“You have lived all your life with family around you, in one place—a home—with everything you need provided to you. With Robert’s orders to wed you—”
“Or kill me. Forget not that part of your orders,” she added, wagging her finger at him.
“When we wed and he made me warden here with his plans for Dunstaffnage, I discovered that I do indeed want everything I missed. A home. Marriage. Even, God willing, children someday.” His boots were in the next room, so he stood before her, dressed and barefoot. “As I have come to know you, I discovered the woman I want as my wife.”
“But that is a given here, Sebastien. We are wed. You have a wife.”
“I want more,” he said with a sigh. “There is so much within you, but for some reason or for many, you have not shared it with me.” Turning to the door, he shook his head. “You will know, as will I, when that moment happens. When you give your heart to me, I will have everything I have ever wanted.”
His words stunned her into silence for a moment. He walked to the door and lifted the latch.
“And you? Are you willing to give me all? Will you give me your heart?”
There was no reason to lie now, or to avoid the question.
“My heart has been yours from the moment I spoke my vows to you. I may not have known it then, but I do now.”
The Maid of Lorne Page 13