“You thought that was it?”
“I…” The word trailed into a sigh as he ran his hand up her leg and began to trail lazy circles in her pubic hair.
“You want me to stop?” He drew light fingers over her stomach, making her shiver.
“Would you, if I said yes?”
“No.” He grinned, bringing his hand up to her breasts and circling—but not quite touching—her nipples.
He had a mischievous look in his eyes that told her he was enjoying playing with her. Had he had the same look when he’d made love to Maud? Or the other women he’d bedded? She wondered what would happen to him when she was married off to her next husband and sent to live in the middle of nowhere. No doubt he would marry again. Some other woman would soon be lying in her place, enjoying his touch as she was now.
Jealousy knifed through her heart. She wanted to tell him she loved him, that she couldn’t bear to lose him again, but she didn’t want to spoil the moment with pointless talk. It would only ruin this special time—this day between days, wherein she’d stolen back a piece of the life she’d once been promised.
Still, she felt tears welling and bit her lip, trying to stop them falling.
Henry frowned. “No, no sadness.” He began to cover her in light kisses, starting at her mouth and moving gradually along her body. “It is not tomorrow yet.”
He was right, she thought, and pushed the worry about her future to the back of her mind, concentrating on the feelings his mouth aroused in her as he kissed across her stomach. His lips brushed the line of her pubic hair, and she held her breath. Surely not. But he continued his kiss to one of her hips, then began to move down her thigh. She released the breath slowly. She didn’t think she could have coped with him kissing her there.
He planted soft kisses all the way down, then ran a light tongue around her ankle before switching to her other leg and continuing the journey there. He kissed back up her calves, every now and again touching his tongue to her skin, making her shiver under its light wetness.
He traced a path with his mouth, up her inner thigh, and her breath grew shallow again.
“You would not…” She didn’t realise she’d spoken aloud until he lifted his head and showed her the mischievous light in his eyes.
“I would…”
She covered her face with her arm as the heat flamed. She hadn’t known men did such things!
He brushed her hair with his lips again, then slid his warm tongue gently all the way up her most intimate parts. She felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room. All her concentration focused on the sensations he caused.
She’d never felt anything like what she was feeling now. With his mouth so warm, and the gentle stroking of his tongue so delicious, she felt as if she were melting. She bore his touch for several minutes, repeatedly catching her breath, then groaned as her stomach muscles began to tighten. He stopped then, however, and the feeling subsided. She gave a shivery sigh.
He shifted and removed her arm from across her face, sliding it under him, then reclined next to her, his hand resting on her thigh.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. He watched her as he ran light fingers into her pubic hair. She inhaled, letting the breath out shakily as he lifted his hand.
“Do you want me?” He let his hand hover above her body.
“I want you,” she whispered, wondering how his eyes seemed to look right into her very heart.
He stroked her again, then lifted his hand, pressing his body hard against her, letting her know his need. “Tell me again.”
“I love you,” she breathed, half in a daze. Suddenly, she realised what she’d said and bit her lip, but Henry didn’t seem to notice, had already shifted on top of her. He slid inside her, and began to move, going deeper with each thrust.
The wave struck her with full force this time, stronger than before, and for a brief moment she thought her orgasm wasn’t going to subside. He continued to move inside her, his muscles tightening, and he spilled into her with a deep groan. She clenched her thighs around him, gasping, damp with sweat. Even if the castle guard were to burst through the doors declaring the castle was under siege, she doubted she could find the energy to rise.
Afterwards, completely spent, too tired to talk, she lay facing him. He propped his head on his hand, watching her, kissing her occasionally until her eyelids drooped. She was aware, as she was dozing off, that he still watched her. She noticed his unhappy expression, and she wanted to ask him why he frowned, but before she could form the words, she fell asleep.
*
She awoke to morning light, the bright June sun streaming through the gap where the curtain sagged at the window. She stretched, an unfamiliar stiffness in her body, and smiled, remembering the events of the night before.
Turning over to see if he was awake, she found the bed empty. A single red rose lay on the pillow beside her.
Her heart seemed to stop. She remembered the way he’d paused on the stairs, telling her he had to get his squire to ready his horse for first light. He was gone. She would never see him again.
She sat up, picked up the flower, and touched her lips to the soft petals of the rose. She felt empty, as hollow as if she had been scooped out with a spoon.
“What have I done?” Tears slid down her pale cheeks. “I was only supposed to surrender the castle…not my heart.”
*
Eleanor shaded her eyes from the late afternoon sun as she rested in the grass by the lake to the south of Woodford. She turned from her view across the lake to the forest and saw her steward walking toward her. She sighed as she noted the tray of bread and cheese, and the cup of ale in his hands.
“Please, my lady,” he said as he approached. “You must eat something. It has been three days now—you have eaten so little and grown so pale.”
“I am all right, thank you.” She managed a small smile. “Do not worry. My loss of appetite is only temporary.”
He hesitated, then placed the tray to one side of her. “In case you fancy a bite.” Shoulders drooping, he began the walk up to the castle.
Eleanor watched him go, sighed, and turned back to the lake view. The setting wasn’t that different from the scene where Henry had first told her he would love her forever. Ten years ago, she had believed him, had trusted him implicitly. And now, she’d lost him—for the second time.
She didn’t blame him for leaving. Theirs was not a world where love triumphed over the necessities of daily life, and she’d known when she asked him to bed her that he would leave the next day. She didn’t blame him for leaving without saying goodbye, either. The night had been magical, for him as well as for her, she was sure, and the rose he’d left on the pillow told her he’d been sorry to go. Maybe he’d left quietly to try and make it easier for both of them.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t feel sorrow at their parting. She watched two swans swimming gracefully around the lake, their movement leaving a V in the water behind them. Hadn’t someone once told her swans mated for life?
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. She’d cried enough. But one lone drop forced its way out and trailed down her cheek. Why was life so cruel? She’d done her duty marrying Geoffrey, had lain with him whenever he requested, without argument, had kept his house, and looked after him to the best of her abilities. Didn’t she deserve some happiness?
She sat for several hours, watching the reflection of the clouds on the water. Briefly, she considered running away, but couldn’t decide where she should go. Anywhere would be better than ending up married to another oafish lout. But she couldn’t do it. A woman travelling on her own would be looking for trouble, and there was nobody to whom she could go for help. Her aunt resided in France, her parents were dead, and she had no other relatives she knew well in England. No, she was doomed to a life of servitude and drudgery; there was nothing she could do, so she might as well get on with it.
Irritated with herself for slipping into the p
it of despair, she got to her feet. She had just begun to brush the grass from her skirt when she heard horse’s hooves in the distance. She looked up, shading her eyes, seeing two riders approaching over the brow of the hill from the direction of the castle. One of them rode a large black steed.
For a moment, she thought she was going to faint, but she remained on her feet by sheer will, her pulse throbbing in her throat. It couldn’t be…
She watched the riders draw near, knowing before she could make out their faces they were the two brothers de Tracey.
Both of them skidded to a halt a few yards from the lake, Henry dismounting before the horse had stopped moving, Richard, seconds behind him. Dusty and tired-looking from travel, the two of them walked up to her. Clearly, they hadn’t stopped for a bath at the castle.
“Gentlemen.” She dipped a low curtsey. Her heart thumped, but she was determined not to show how flustered she felt. He was there to inform her about her future, nothing more.
Henry nodded. “My lady.”
The two men gave a short bow, amidst an awkward silence.
She had to say something and cleared her throat. “You came back then.”
Richard looked at Henry, who raised an eyebrow. “So it would appear.” His face was expressionless; she couldn’t read what he was thinking.
“Did you have a good trip?” she asked.
“Pleasant enough. London is not the nicest place to be when the weather is hot.”
“Did you get to go to the theatre?”
“No, although we did visit—”
Richard huffed. “For God’s sake, man, stop talking nonsense and tell her the news.”
“News?” Her mouth went dry.
Henry looked at the ground. “I saw the king while I was in London. I have secured you a husband.”
She swallowed, trying to remember to breathe. “W-what is his name?”
“He is the Earl of Dartington.”
She couldn’t recall having heard of an Earl of Dartington before. “Oh.” Panic swelled, and she took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “Is he…is he old?”
He considered her question. “Not that old, I think.”
“Is he a good man?”
He looked across at Richard, who shrugged. Henry tipped his head. “Some would say so.” He frowned at her. “Ella, do you not want to ask me if he is handsome, or powerful, or rich, or all the other things I thought mattered to a woman?”
Her lip trembled. “Do not mock me. I do not care about any of that. If he does not beat me, if he is kind and gentle, I would be happy enough.”
“Oh, Ella…”
Richard rolled his eyes. “For the love of God…put her out of her misery, Henry.” Richard came over to her and took her hand, looking into her eyes. “He is talking about himself, Ella. He asked the king for permission to take you as his wife. Of course, the king had heard about how beautiful you are and said no—he wanted you for one of his relatives, but Henry would not take no for an answer. He argued with the king!”
Henry shot him an amused look. “Enough, Richard, or she will not be able to get her head through the hall doors.”
“The king agreed, only to shut him up, I think.” Richard smiled. He kissed her on her cheek. “I shall be proud to call you sister. I hope the news does not disappoint you too much.” Grinning, he walked back and mounted his horse. “I shall meet you back at the castle.” He flicked his hand at his brother. “I think you should catch her, Henry, before she passes out and rolls into the lake.” He winked at her, and with that, he put his heels to his horse and sent it trotting up the hill.
Eleanor stared after him, her mind whirling. She looked back at Henry, who was watching her, but now he was smiling. “Are you disappointed?” he asked.
“What?” Eleanor could not wrap her mind around this new information. “What was Richard talking about? Who is the Earl of Dartington?”
“That would be me.” He grinned. “It seems King Edward was pleased with my siege of Woodford, and in spite of my refusal to let him gift you to his cousin, he decided to reward me with an earldom and an obedient wife.” He shrugged and teased, “I suppose one out of two is not bad.”
Still, she said nothing. His smile faded, and he frowned, stepping closer and taking her hands. “Ella, I honestly thought you would be pleased with this news. But if it is not what you want, you must tell me now.”
She stared at him. “You?” she said faintly. “I am to marry you?”
“Yes, Ella.”
“Forever?”
He began to smile again. “Yes.”
“And we can live together, and go to bed every night, together?”
He pulled her toward him. “Yes, Ella,” he murmured, running his hands up her arms and enclosing her in a warm embrace. “Does that please you?”
She was shaking, and she could not seem to stop. “Oh, Henry, I…”
A thought entered her head, and the joy that had started to rise within her came to a shuddering stop. “I cannot.” She pulled back from him and turned away.
“What?” He caught her hand, refusing to let go. “What is the matter?”
“Let me go.”
“No.” He turned her round. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
She glared at him, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. “Have you forgotten, Henry, I am barren. I cannot have children; you need an heir.”
“I knew you were going to bring that up.” He sighed with exasperation. “Richard owes me fifty groats.”
“Fifty groats!”
“Ella… Try to focus. Before we rode to the castle, Richard and I went into the village. I found Joan, the blacksmith’s daughter.”
“Joan?” She tried to get her brain to work. The name sounded familiar. Then realisation hit her. “You mean the mother of Geoffrey’s child?”
“Apparently not. She admitted to me she’d had other lovers while she was bedding Geoffrey—one of whom happens to be the exact image of the babe, right down to the birthmark on his backside.”
She stared at him. “She told you that? Why?”
He shrugged. “A generous bribe encouraged the admission.”
“I do not understand. What difference does this make to me?”
He put his hands on his hips, exasperated. “God’s teeth, you are making this hard work. Look, it happened to my cousin—she married a man who’d had a daughter by another woman, and she thought her inability to conceive a child was her fault, but when he died, she married again, and she now has three healthy sons.”
“So… I might not be barren?”
His eyes twinkled as he pulled her toward him once again. “Can you imagine what beautiful babies we might make?”
Now, she was at a complete loss for words. She stared up at him, mouth slightly open, and he smiled as he laced his hands through her hair.
“I told the truth, you know, that day by the lake.” He stepped closer so their bodies touched. “And I never stopped loving you.” He lowered his lips, capturing hers in a sweet, tender kiss.
After only a few moments, he pulled back, frowning. He cupped her face, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “Are you sad, sweetheart?”
“I cannot believe it.” She was beginning to shake again. “I thought I was going to have to marry someone else like Geoffrey, I thought I’d lost you.”
“Did you think I would let you go, when I had just found you again?”
“I…” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Are you sure?”
“I was sure the minute I saw you riding out of the castle to face an army alone. But I could not tell you before I left—I had to ask the king’s permission first.”
“You really want to marry me?”
“Oh, come here.” He pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her, letting her sob for a while into his tunic.
After a while, the tears stopped, and she slid her arms around him. Her head rested on his chest, and while he stroked her hair,
she looked out across the lake, watching the swans gliding across the surface together.
“That’s us,” he said.
She nestled into him. “They mate for life.”
He laughed. “I know; that is what I meant.”
She raised her face. “We are really going to be together?”
“Forever. We will have sons and daughters, and I will be by your side until you tire of me and tell me to go away.”
She laughed. “Never,” she said softly. “Never.”
Henry kissed her again, with the swans circling slowly in the background enjoying the warmth of the late afternoon sun.
~The End~
About the Author
Serenity Woods lives in the sub-tropical Northland of New Zealand with her wonderful husband and gorgeous teenage son. She writes fun, emotional, and sexy romances in a variety of romantic sub-genres. She’s won several writing competitions and is a member of the Romance Writers of New Zealand. She would much rather immerse herself in reading or writing romance than do the dusting and ironing, which is why it’s not a great idea to pop round if you have any allergies. You can check out all her books at http://www.serenitywoodsromance.com.
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Megan Green fell in love with Dion Wallace when she was nine years old, but she hasn’t seen him since she was fifteen when he moved from New Zealand to the UK to be with his father. Meeting up with him in Prague eight years later is both a surprise and a relief when he rescues her during one of her panic attacks. On the rebound after a breakup, she turns to Dion for comfort and some hot sex, and he’s happy to oblige. But when the night ends, they’re both certain it’s the last time they’ll ever see each other.
A year later, however, Dion’s life is falling apart. After a decade of hard work, he thought he was next in line to be CEO of the family company, but his father surprises everyone by giving the job to one of his half-brothers. Angry and hurt by his dad’s betrayal, Dion books the first available flight to New Zealand, hoping a few weeks away might give him some perspective. And if he manages to hook up with Megan again while he’s there, he figures that might be the medicine he needs.
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