Lord of the Abbey

by K. R. Richards

  Rowena nearly wept, he was so tender and gentle. His hips, cradling her, his knees keeping her legs beneath him, where he lay fully atop her, the only movement came from his buttocks, thighs and hips as he thrust deep inside her.

  Her hands tangled in his hair, her tongue moved with his. Rowena was helpless to do anything but lie beneath him and accept his tender loving. Return his hungry kisses. Kiss his strong jaw, his chin, his throat. A fire sparked deep inside her, burning low, between her thighs, then the flames fanned and burned, higher, hotter. She tried to buck beneath him, but his weight kept her pinned against the softness of the mattress, she was unable to do naught but accept stroke after stroke of the gentle and delicious pleasure as he kept the rhythm slow, going deep, stroking her fire into a raging inferno. “Harry, oh Harry!” Her voice trembled as the first glorious waves carried her over the edge into an endless sea of ecstasy, it was sweet torture, building, heightening and then she absolutely shattered. He was with her, his lips against her ear, groaning her name. He raised, shuddering above her, his breathing becoming more labored, as his body tensed rigid, the power of his hips thrusting him deeper and deeper within her.

  Harry groaned loudly as she felt the warmth of his seed filling her. Rowena felt no man and woman were ever as joined as they were at that moment.

  Harry lifted his head, prepared to roll off of her. Her arms came up, slid around his neck. “Stay inside me Harry, please.” She whispered against his chest. She did not want the spell to be broken, did not want them separated just yet. She felt his lips graze her temple. Felt him relax atop her. With Harry still deep inside her, Rowena easily slipped into blissful slumber.

  Rowena stirred. Many hours had passed for the lone candle was now sputtering out. Blackness engulfed the room after the last, dying ember fluttered tall then disappeared. Her back was up against Harry’s chest, her bottom cradled by his hips, his arm around her. They both lay on their sides. She snuggled closer to him, her bottom coming into contact with the firmness of his erection.

  She listened carefully, knew by his deep, even breathing and the peaceful rise and fall of his chest he still slept. She tried to ignore the hardness of him against her, but gave up trying. She found herself aroused, knowing that even in his sleep he wanted her. She pressed her derrière against him again, felt the hardness of him poke into the soft cushion of her flesh. Again she rubbed against him. Felt his shaft harden further.

  This time his arm tightened around her, his fingers splayed against her belly. She felt him thrust powerfully against the soft flesh of her derrière, the head of his cock nudging firmly against the dampness of her opening.

  “Now I know you are indeed an angel, for if this is not heaven, Rowena, I don’t know what is.”

  His husky whisper tickled her ear. She smiled. His hand moved over the curve of her hip to her back, then down to cradle one globe of her bottom.

  The tip of his engorged cock rested at her wet opening. Harry intended to slide himself into her. He sucked in his breath when she pushed her own hips against him to take him fully. Remembering her soreness, he strove to keep the rhythm slow and gentle. He felt every thrust so keenly, for she was so tight. As he moved in and out, she pushed her bottom back to accept him more fully. His hand moved to her breasts, to tease and caress.

  He knew he couldn’t last much longer, a sheen of perspiration beaded at his brow and already his balls were tight.

  When Rowena increased the pace of her movements, Harry knew he would not last, he was so aroused, burning in sweet agony as she slid her sheath up and down him, taking him fully into her each time. His hand moved to grasp her hip, pulling her tight against him as he pushed his cock deeper into her. He held her there, impaled, immobile, while his fingers moved to the nub hidden in the folds of her mound to bring her release.

  “Rowena, I can’t last long now, sweet. You’re driving me mad, I’m going to come,” his voice was thick, husky. Feeling his body tighten, he took her nub between two fingers and worked it, applying deep pressure. The result was instantaneous, Rowena arched against him, pushed her hips back further, moaned with the force of her release. As she convulsed against him, her breathing uneven, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pushed into her wet heat with quick, deep thrusts until he exploded. He breathed her name over and over, shuddering as his seed spilled inside her. He moved inside her slowly, but deeply, for more long moments until his release was complete.

  When at last he could breathe again, he whispered, “Please tell me you’ll marry me, Rowena. I can’t imagine not having you in my arms every night. Doing this, every night!”

  “I will marry you Harry. For I could never sleep without you again either.”

  “Mmm. Sweet dreams to you then, my future wife.” His chin nuzzled her ear. His lips moved against the tender skin of her nape. He would talk to her tomorrow about them marrying very soon, within the next few days.

  Rowena slept deeply, wrapped in the arms of the man she loved. A man who treasured her, and whom she loved dearly.

  They woke to a knock at the door.

  “Harry! It’s six, the household is stirring.” Trevan’s voice was low.

  Harry rose, walked to the door naked. Opened it a fraction. I’ll be right out. Keep an eye out for me.”

  He returned to the bed, watched Rowena stretch beneath the covers, as he pulled on his trousers. He slid into his shirt. He bent, kissed her passionately. “Sleep for a little longer, love. It’s early yet. I’ll be sitting outside your door until you rise. Trevan needs some sleep now.”

  “Maybe for another half hour.” She murmured, her heavy eyelids threatening to close.

  “Sleep as long as you like.” Harry carried his boots, waistcoat and coat with him to the door. He reluctantly left his lovely, passionate angel alone in her bed.

  After Harry left her and just before she drifted off to sleep, she realized she wanted to marry Harry because she loved him. Her question was did he love her? How did one know if their partner loved them?

  Micah and Rowena were in charge of cataloging the finds. The chests were carried upstairs to a small, unused sitting room. All decided it was safer if the cache remained upstairs, the main reason being, it was not as easy to steal from under their noses upstairs. Whoever was on watch outside Rowena’s door at night, could easily keep watch on the small parlour door across the hallway.

  Rowena sent to the stationers for more writing paper and ink, a necessity to record this large cache. It took most of the morning for the men to carefully transfer the treasures upstairs. Rowena remained with Lyon, who had several waking periods during the morning. Once he even took a fair amount of broth for her. A low fever persisted, but for the most part, he was recuperating nicely.

  After luncheon, Rowena and Micah settled into the upstairs sitting room to begin their daunting task. A small table was brought up so they could record their findings easier.

  “Lady Rowena, what is the matter? You’ve been staring out the window for the last ten minutes,” Micah asked her softly.

  “Oh, have I?” Rowena blushed. “I’m so sorry, Micah.”

  “Is there something bothering you?” Micah noted the frown on her face.

  “Well,” Rowena wasn’t certain if she should ask Micah. She hesitated to ask Aunt Frances. Certainly not Sir John. She couldn’t ask Harry. She had no one else to ask. She trusted Micah, felt he was a good friend to her. “How do you know if someone is in love with you?” she inquired shyly. She even blushed. Harry once told her Micah was married before. Perhaps he knew the answer to her question.

  Saints bones! Micah gulped. “Harry?” He squinted, hoping he understood her correctly.

  Rowena smiled, and nodded. “He has asked me to marry him, and I told him yes, but I feel I might have answered in haste. For I realized this morning he may not feel the same way I do. It seems to me that a marriage may not be a happy one if one loved their partner and the other partner did not return the sentiment. Harry told me you were ma
rried, and I have no experience in this area, nor anyone I can ask. For I do not wish to raise Aunt Frances’ hopes just yet.”

  Micah took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. You,” Micah pointed at Rowena, “are in love with Harry, and you want to know how to tell if he is in love with you?”

  “Yes, that is correct, Micah.” Rowena gazed at him hopefully.

  Whew, this was an easy one! Harry was head over heels in love with Rowena Locke. “Ask him,” Micah encouraged her softly.

  “Oh, no! I could not.” Rowena shook her head, “For fear he might say he does not, or say nothing at all.”

  He saw pain in her eyes. Rowena Locke was not teasing, or fishing, she honestly did not know, and was worried about it.

  After all, she shied away from most relationships after the Dalworth incident, and even before due to her father’s treatment of her mother, and only had her aunt and Sir John to talk to. Until him. He, Micah Wychcombe, Harry Bellingham’s prospective wife’s new best friend. Micah was touched. Felt his heart swell. Not with love or lust, but out of endearment for a beautiful, brilliant, but emotionally scarred young woman who thought highly enough of him to trust him with her feelings, which he was certain was a difficult thing for her to do. It was so sweet. So touching.

  “Lady Rowena,” he began. “I’ve known Harry a very long time, and he is a very good friend. I can tell you with absolute certainty, just from knowing him that he is absolutely in love with you. I am sure in his own time he will tell you himself. He may not realize it himself, yet.”

  “Do you think so, Micah?” Rowena smiled hopefully. “That Harry loves me, I mean.”

  “I do. I’m certain Harry loves you. I’ve never seen him so enamored of a woman before, as he is with you, Rowena. You’re still going to marry him, aren’t you?” Micah questioned. He never witnessed Harry fall so hard for a woman. He knew Harry loved Rowena just as he knew Harry would kill him if she didn’t marry him because of this little talk.

  “Yes, I am still planning to marry him. Thank you, Micah.” She sighed heavily. Then she smiled. “I feel better now.”

  “Good.” Micah rubbed his hands together. So did he.

  “Micah?”

  “Yes, Lady Rowena?” He smiled at her.

  “I am sorry you suffered such heart-ache. Losing your wife and babe, I mean. I hope someday, you can find happiness again. You are very kind to me, and help me very much. I just wanted to tell you that.” Her hand rested on his arm for a moment.

  “Thank you, Lady Rowena. I’m glad my friendship has been of service to you. Yours has helped me also,” Micah offered truthfully. He cleared his throat, for there was a decided lump there.

  Realizing that Harry found the perfect match, Micah was able to hope that there might be another woman out there for him: attractive, intelligent and with similar interests as he, one who fit perfectly into his life the way Rowena fit into Harry’s. Seeing Harry and Rowena fall in love opened up Micah’s heart to the possibility of allowing the right woman into his life. He closed off his heart when Lucy died. It just reopened. And he found a wonderful new friend in Rowena Locke!

  She saw Micah blush slightly, and decided to let the conversation lie where it was.

  “Very well. Shall we continue, Lady Rowena? Let’s begin cataloguing the next chest, shall we?”

  “Yes, Micah. Let’s do.”

  When they took a break in mid-afternoon, Rowena went downstairs to check on Lyon.

  Micah sought out Harry immediately.

  “What is it, Micah?” Harry looked concerned. Micah’s insistence that he speak to him alone worried him.

  “Harry, you have not told Lady Rowena about the special license you had Elveston procure for you in London yet?”

  “No, but knowing Dalworth is on his way to Glastonbury, and after speaking with Lady Sperring and Sir John again, I was just on my way to speak with her.”

  Micah sighed in relief. “Good. Harry, while we were upstairs, Lady Rowena seemed a little distracted-“

  “She has not changed her mind, has she, Micah?” Harry looked worried.

  “No.” Micah quickly relayed the conversation exchanged between him and Rowena. “You must not tell her that I told you anything, Harry. I stress this. What she told me was in confidence. She looks upon me as a friend, and I do not wish to breach her trust.”

  Harry looked at a loss for a moment. “How could she not know that I love her?” He shook his head in confusion. “I show her-“

  “You have to say the words, Harry.”

  “Surely I have…”

  “No, you haven’t, for if you had said those words she would remember the minute and the hour you said them. It is an unwritten law that females like to hear you say the words. And another that they remember every detail of what a man does and does not say. She did not say you didn’t act like you loved her. The problem is that your actions tell her you do, but you haven’t said the words. Until you do, she won’t know. You have to say the words!”

  “Yes, Micah, you are correct. It would be especially important to Rowena considering what she went through in her past.”

  “I agree, Harry. Now go. Tell her. The sooner you marry her, the safer she will be from Dalworth.”

  “I will, but I noticed you did not ask me if I love her, Micah?”

  “I’ve never seen you behave like a besotted mooncalf before, in all the years I’ve known you, Harry. I figured it out days ago.” Micah rolled his eyes and laughed.

  Harry’s eyes narrowed. “Someday, Micah. Someday.” Harry shook a warning finger at him, a broad grin spreading across his face. “And Micah?”

  “Yes, Harry?”

  “Thank you for being Rowena’s friend. I can tell your friendship means a great deal to her.” Harry’s tone was heartfelt and honest.

  “It means a great deal to me, as well, Harry.” Micah swallowed the lump in his throat.

  A knock sounded on the study door. “Harry?” Rowena peeked her head in. “There you are.” She smiled.

  Micah headed toward the door, pausing to nod and smile at Rowena as she passed him on her way to Harry.

  “I’ll rejoin you in a few minutes, Micah.” Rowena called after him.

  “Of course, I’ll wait for you near the stairs.”

  Harry still sat on the edge of the desk. He stood, held out both hands and took Rowena’s hands in his. He watched as the door shut behind Micah. He pulled her against him. “What is it, love?”

  The corners of his mouth curved upward as he gave her his complete attention.

  “Lyon has just asked for you. He says he has something he needs to tell you.” Rowena pulled his hands and backed up, preparing to lead him out of the room.

  Harry gently tugged her back. “In a moment, Rowena. First I need to talk to you.” He wanted to kiss her, but knew if he did he’d get sidetracked. This was too important. He caressed her hands. Pulled one to his lips and placed a kiss on her palm.

  “Very well, Harry.” She raised a curious eyebrow to him.

  “Rowena, since the morning after our first kiss, I knew I wanted to marry you. I fell in love with you, Rowena, almost immediately, I think.”

  He laughed. It was a rich, happy sound. His eyes sparkled, and he smiled warmly. “I love you, Rowena. I wanted you to know that. I neglected to tell you that this morning when you agreed to marry me. The reason I want to sleep with you in my arms every night is because I love you, and I can’t imagine being without you.”

  Rowena smiled. Giggled. Her eyes became misty with happy tears. “I love you too, Harry. I feel the same about you.”

  “I’m so happy, Rowena.” He bent and kissed her slowly and gently. He ended the kiss, before he lost control and neglected to tell her the rest. “With that in mind, I must tell you I suspected from almost the beginning that Dalworth was somehow involved in the incidents involving these men in the brown coats and hats. So, I wrote to Elveston before he left London and asked him to take a letter from me to
the Archbishop of Canterbury so that I might procure a special license for our marriage.”

  “Oh?”

  “I did that, not because I intended to force you into marrying me, but solely as a means of protection for you if Dalworth did prove to be involved. Since we learned that Dalworth is on his way to Glastonbury, I am asking that we marry now, as soon as tomorrow if we can. I want to explain to you that if you are legally my wife, it will be illegal for Dalworth to take you. He would not be able to force you to marry him as he tried before. This does not mean he won’t try to take you or harm you, but it does give you more legal protection, and it will make it harder for him to accomplish what he wants. We can have a larger wedding later if you like, or just a large reception. I am sorry to rob you of a normal wedding day, but I am hoping you will consent to marry now.”