Desiree

by Roberta Gellis

  “Desiree…” He backed away a step.

  She stood staring at him, paling, eyes wide, lips trembling. “Was it only Frewyn of all men alive who thought I was worth having? Do you not care for me, Alex?”

  “More than life,” he groaned, but took another step back. “But I am unfit for you, my lady.”

  “How unfit?” Her hands were clasped so tightly before her that the knuckles showed white.

  “You are the Lady of Exceat and I am a pauper. My horse, my clothes—all were gifts. I am penniless and worth nothing beyond what I earn with my sword. Had I not been so stupid and so unprincipled as to cast my eyes upon you, I could have remained as your castellan, but I—”

  “Are you saying that you wish to leave me because you do care for me?”

  Alex’s back was against the door. He knew he should reach behind him and find the latch, open the door, flee the keep, but he could not. He could not give up the few moments more of being with her before common sense made her bid him go.

  “I must. I must,” he muttered. “I have tried. God knows I have tried to see you only as my lady, as the mistress I must serve, but I cannot. Desire burns in me. My lips still taste your mouth. I still feel you pressed against me.”

  Desiree uttered a faint sigh and her eyes half closed. “Yes, I could feel your desire even when you sat silent beside me and it did feed my desire for you. That was wrong while Frewyn lived, I suppose, but now—”

  “My lady, it is useless. Hopeless. Still wrong. You will marry again, but a more fitting man and it is to him that you must give your love, your desire. No overlord in his right mind would permit you to-to marry me.”

  “Overlord? The king is my overlord and is not here to order my marriage. Frewyn promised that when he died I could marry where I would. He promised…” She cocked her head to the side suddenly, her expression thoughtful. “Frewyn was a careful man and did not promise what he could not perform.” She got a look on her face like a cat who had got into the cream. “I will lay you odds that among the documents Frewyn kept with great care is a quit-claim for a fine he paid that Desiree of Exceat, widow of Sir Frewyn of Polegate, should marry where she would.”

  Alex began to tremble. “Holy Mother, help me! Desiree, do not tempt me. You may have such a quit-claim, but it is still wrong. Do you not see it? Everyone will laugh at you for falling victim to a man who took you for your estate.”

  Desiree laughed. “You are appealing to the wrong place for heavenly help. The Holy Mother in the tales told of Her had a most lively sense of humor. Moreover, She is a woman and would understand very well my need to love my husband. And as for being laughed at,” her face hardened, “to whom do you think my overlord would marry me if I awaited his choice? Would it not be to some penniless favorite of his own for whom he sought a living?”

  Alex could not deny that. It was true enough. He looked into Desiree’s sweet face and for the first time since he had come to Exceat, it was clear of anxiety. The lips curved up just a trifle, the eyes were laughing at him.

  “It is still wrong,” he said desperately. “Perhaps not waiting for the king to choose a husband for you, but wrong for you to take me without any chance to meet other young men. First you were locked away by your father and then married to Frewyn. I am sure you will find—” His voice checked, strangled with jealousy.

  “I am not nearly so ignorant as you think. Frewyn did not keep me locked up. He invited any number of young men or fathers with their land-hungry younger sons. He knew he could not live very long and wished to see if I favored any man above another. But they all rode out with Frewyn and me and all they saw was the land. Not one saw me.”

  “But I saw only the land also—or rather the keep, which it was my first duty to defend. You once accused me of confusing you with a pillar.”

  She came close and touched his face, laughing again. “But you do not confuse me with pillars now, do you?”

  “Desiree, stop. I am only a man. I cannot—”

  His arms were behind him because he had been feeling for the door latch, telling himself he must escape. She stepped even closer and fastened her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his—and laughed once more.

  “Oh, I can feel that,” she said, shifting her hips. “It is quite clear that you are a man.”

  Rage swept over him. It was unfair for Desiree to tease him when he was trying to do what was best for her. He gave up on reaching for the door latch, brought his arms around and embraced her fiercely. With a despairing groan, he bent to crush her lips under his, his hands gripped her buttocks, rubbing her body hard against his, side to side and up and down. Far from resisting, she kissed him back, inserting her tongue in his mouth and tickling his upper palate with the tip.

  Alex pressed her even harder against him, moaning deep in his throat as his excitement built. This too was wrong, he knew. It was a sin to “spill his seed upon the ground”, but he needed relief so desperately, and this was safe. It was his sin only and brought with it no danger of conception.

  She seemed to be trying to climb his body, trying to wind a leg around his, rising up, slipping down. Unable to contain himself, Alex thrust forward. Desiree tried to lift herself again, but she was pressed so hard against him that his tunic rose with her, scraping the bared head of his shaft, adding an utterly irresistible pleasure-pain. Alex thrust again, gasping and shuddering as his seed burst forth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Alex’s knees gave way and he slid down along the door, so that he ended up sitting on the floor with Desiree on his lap, her legs inelegantly splayed to each side.

  “Sorry,” he gasped. “Sorry.”

  She sat there staring at him. “And so you should be,” she said crossly. “You are content and I am left burning.”

  “Desiree,” he protested weakly, then added, “I am sorry. It was wrong, but I could not help it.” Then anger touched him again. “I told you I was only a man. I—

  “And I am only a woman,” she snapped. “Do you think my need is less?”

  His mouth opened, closed. “We must not,” he whispered. “You are a clean maid. To satisfy you, I must broach you and…and I dare not do that.”

  Desiree had the feeling that there were other ways to give a woman pleasure, hints she had overheard when her women talked among themselves and thought her too busy to listen or too young to understand. But the prospect did not interest her at all. She wanted Alex, all of him, his big, warm body, his sweet mouth, the serious gaze of his misty blue eyes, the curly red hair on his head and that, which she had never seen but was sure of, around his strong shaft. She thought of the way her fingers would curl that hair and… “Why?” she asked.

  “Why?” Alex echoed, dumbfound.

  “Yes, why? You will know I was a maid when you first took me, and no one else will expect to see blood on the sheets when I have been a wife for four years.”

  Alex simply gaped at her, and then said weakly, “But, Desiree… It is a sin.”

  “Alex! Do not act like a ninny. So it is a sin. So I will confess and do penance. I am quite sure that I am not the only woman nor you the only man to commit this particular sin.”

  For answer, Alex leaned forward and kissed her gently, disengaging his lips before she could seize his head. “I am supposed to protect you, not lead you into temptation.”

  “You are supposed to protect my lands and my body from harm by enemies,” she answered pertly. “No one said anything about my soul. That is my own to care for, and I suggest you leave it to me and to Father Harold.”

  “Father Harold will not like it…”

  “Then we won’t tell him, will we?”

  “Desiree…” he breathed, but the protest was much weaker and when she began to tug at his tunic, instead of resisting he raised himself slightly to allow the tunic to slide up and then leaned forward to lift her skirts.

  Meanwhile, Desiree had found the tie of his braies and pulled the bow loose. She loosened them all
the way and pulled the front down. His newly stiffened shaft sprang upward over the edge of the garment. Wide-eyed, Desiree stared at the bared red head, still wet and slippery.

  Alex was breathing as if he were running fully armed. Between Desiree’s legs was warmth and wet and a sense of hollowness waiting to be filled. Alex lifted her skirts higher and folded them back against her stomach. Desiree inched forward on her knees, lowered herself quickly—and missed. Alex grunted.

  Hurriedly Desiree inched forward again. She felt the shaft trace a way across her hair, but though hard and hot it was at the wrong angle. She reached down and curled her fingers around the root. Alex jerked and moaned. She pressed back on the shaft, came just a little more forward, felt something tickle the lips of her nether mouth and pressed down hard.

  She was wet and he was wet, slippery with his own semen, but it still hurt. Desiree felt as if her flesh was stretched to the limit as if it would tear. Still, deeper within was an aching emptiness. She lifted herself an inch or two and plunged down again—and gasped with pain.

  A wordless sound forced itself from Alex’s lips. He released her skirt and drove his hand under it farther up, pushing it under her girdle until his fingers touched her breast. Desiree gasped again, but not with pain. Alex strained upward, finding the erect nipple. Desiree whimpered and began to wriggle, forward and back, up and down. Alex sighed and moaned with pleasure, but having so recently discharged his seed was in no danger of loosing again.

  Tugged at by Desiree’s more and more frantic movements and Alex’s steady pressure, Desiree’s girdle loosened. Alex twisted a little, slid his arm more completely under her shift and cupped her breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the nipple while his fingers tickled the entire breast.

  “Oh! Oh!” Desiree cried.

  Alex raised the hand with which he had been bracing himself against the floor and pulled her head down so he could claim her lips with his own. Now that the constriction of the girdle was loosened, he reached across the breast he had been fondling and began to fondle the other. Strangled sounds came from Desiree’s throat; her thrusting became even more frantic, then hesitated. A few little movements followed, and then she was still.

  Alex let her rest for a moment and then slid across the floor so he could lie flat. From that position, he could turn her so that he lay atop. For one long moment he fought the need to plunge hard for a few more strokes and bring himself to bursting within her. But that would chance her pregnancy and shame. He withdrew quickly and thrust himself between her thighs to finish and then, knowing his weight would be too much for her, made a last heroic effort and brought her atop him again.

  “Oh, my,” Desiree sighed, lying limp against him. “Oh, my. That was—well, I hardly know what to say.”

  Alex made no reply. His eyes had closed. He had barely slept at all since Frewyn died and his physical exhaustion was profound. Desiree braced herself up on her arms and looked down at him. She nearly spoke sharply to the ungrateful man to whom she had given all she had to give…and then she saw the dark bruises under his eyes and how hollow his cheeks had become.

  She had not been sleeping well herself, and it was a great temptation simply to lower herself and, cushioned by his warm body, join him in slumber. However, she knew it might not be long before Elias came to this room to look for the charters and documents of dower right she had told him to copy for approval by the sheriff. Doubtless he would raise the whole keep if he found the door blocked against him by Alex’s body.

  Slowly, rather reluctantly, Desiree released the shrinking shaft she still held between her thighs and pressed against her nether mouth. She wondered naughtily whether she would be able to make it swell again if she wriggled around a bit. Then sighed. No, poor Elias would be so embarrassed if he came upon them. Not that Elias did not suspect that she intended to take Alex in marriage, but this was shameful…on the floor with her skirts under her chin and his braies pulled awry.

  Desiree felt her cheeks heat slightly and then giggled aloud. Alex made an indistinct sound. She giggled again, then, supporting herself on her arms, lifted herself. Before she even straightened her skirts, she pulled Alex’s braies up over his poor tired member, slumping to the side—strong shaft no longer—and pulled down his tunic.

  Swallowing still another giggle, she stood up and put herself to rights, smoothing her gown and retying her girdle. Then she knelt beside Alex and kissed him. He pulled away. Desiree sighed again and shook his shoulder hard.

  “I am sorry, my love, but you must wake up,” she said.

  His eyes fluttered open, but had no sense in them.

  “Alex, I expect Elias to need to come into this room very soon, and it will not do at all for him to be unable to open the door because you are lying on the floor fast asleep.” She shook him again. “Wake up, Alex, do.”

  “I am awake,” he said casting one glance over her and another over himself. “How did I come to be lying on the floor?” Color darkened his ruddy complexion, and when Desiree laughed he said, “That— Was that not a dream?”

  “Not at all, dear love,” Desiree said and bent over him to kiss him again.

  He jerked upright so fast, he almost broke her nose. “On…on the floor? Like…like…”

  Desiree rubbed her nose, fortunately his cheek had hit it, not his forehead or chin, and it was not bleeding. She sniffed and looked at him defiantly. “Yes, on the floor because my need was urgent—and we had no place else to go.” Alex got to his feet, steadying himself against the door. “I will leave at once. I will ride directly to Roselynde. Someone will come to act as castellan until—”

  Desiree put out an imperious hand, and Alex took it automatically, and lifted her to her feet. “You will go nowhere,” she said. “I am the Lady of Exceat. You are sworn to me. I do not grant you permission to leave.” Alex gaped at her. Swallowed. “Do not be an idiot!” she went on, crossly. “Perhaps the place was not…not ordinary, but many betrothed couples do not wait for the swearing before the church door. Frewyn said I should marry to my own pleasure when he was dead. You are my pleasure, and that is the end of that.”

  Alex blinked and the corners of his lips twitched. “You are my pleasure too,” he said and then, sadly, “But pleasure is not everything.”

  “No, indeed,” Desire agreed, sober now herself. “Alex, do you admit that if war comes you are fit to defend me and my lands?” He nodded and she went on, “What is my name?”

  “What?”

  “Say my name, Alex, my full name with all my honors.”

  “Desiree, Lady of Exceat, seizined of the vills of Cuckhaven and Seaford, of the farms of—”

  “Enough. And when I am married to you, what will be my name and my honors?”

  The befuddlement on Alex’s face began to clear and he nodded his head. “It will be exactly the same—Desiree, Lady of Exceat, seizined of—”

  “That is real to you, Alex, is it not?”

  “Yes,” he said soberly, understanding clear now.

  “When we are married and I give an order regarding my estate, will you obey that order?”

  “So long as it is not a matter of war, I will,” he answered very seriously.

  “How many other men would say as much?”

  Alex grinned. “Any who were clever enough to realize you wished to rule your own lands.”

  Desiree nodded acknowledgment. “And how many would keep their word? How many would try to beat me silent instead?”

  Alex bit his lip. “I would not,” he said. “But in training with Sir Simon and Lady Alinor I have learned that the lady’s judgment is mostly as sound as her lord’s.” Then he grinned. “Besides, if a blow on Lady Alinor’s white body did not bring the entire castlefolk with weapons to avenge it, one might wake up with a knife in one’s throat.”

  Desiree smiled at that but shook her head and said, still seriously, “And if I am not mistaken, Sir Simon has little compared with his lady’s possessions.”

  “
That is true,” Alex said thoughtfully. “Sir Simon might be more sympathetic to your reasoning than most.”

  Desiree came close and put an arm around his neck. “Then let us go to Father Harold and ask him to marry us.”

  Alex was shocked again. “Desiree, Frewyn is no more than a week dead, only two days in his grave.”

  “Do you think Frewyn will mind?” Desiree asked, tears suddenly standing in her eyes.

  “No,” Alex admitted, “I think Frewyn would be glad to see you in a safe haven because I would be a good and gentle husband and always consider your will—if not above my own at least equal to my own. But I think Sir Simon would object. He warned me against taking advantage. I must not do that, and to marry you before he had a chance to talk to you and offer you other choices…that would be wrong.”

  Desiree sighed, and raised the hand that was not around his neck to touch his cheek. “But I hunger for you.”

  Alex looked away. “And I for you. I suppose you could write to Sir Simon—that is, if Elias finds that quit-claim among Frewyn’s papers. We have been assuming—”

  The door latch lifted and the door banged into Alex’s back. He started forward, loosening Desiree’s arms and stepping aside. Elias came in, hesitated, and then came forward again as Desiree beckoned to him. He nodded when she asked about the quit-claim and smiled sadly when both Alex and Desiree sighed with relief.

  “Make a copy when you find it,” Desiree said. “I wish to write to Sir Simon and tell him that I want to marry Alex before Exceat is besieged by land-hungry suitors.”

  Elias said, “Yes, my lady.” But his expression was troubled and then he said, “My lord, my lady, do you know that Pollock is questioning everyone about who could have put a sleeping powder into Sir Frewyn’s wine?”

  “Is he?” Desiree asked. “Pollock? I would never have believed that he had a thought in his head beyond caring for Frewyn. Will he find an answer, do you think?”

  “He is quite a clever man,” Elias said, still looking troubled, “which is, I believe, how he came to be your father’s body servant and then Frewyn’s.”