“I would have disturbed your sleep.”
“Your absence disturbed my sleep even more,” he said, and ran his hand up along her arm, over her shoulder and to the back of her neck where his fingers firmly stroked her sensitive skin.
“You need time to heal,” she insisted, her words a warning not only to him but to her own traitorous body.
“I need time with my wife.”
“We have all day.”
“You robbed me of this morning with you.”
“I apologize,” she said, his fingers running up into her hair and stroking her scalp and sending shivers of sensuous delight racing through her.
“What thoughts were on your mind?”
She looked at him with odd confusion. Feeling as shameless as she did last night, mostly from those magically tormenting fingers of his, she spoke honestly: “Thoughts of you naked beneath that blanket.”
He smiled, pleased. “When you were not beside me this morning when I woke, I thought perhaps last night was nothing more than an erotic dream, but your woman’s scent clung to me and I drank it in, remembering.”
His hand cupped the back of her head and drew her to him. “And I grew hard with the want of you.” He brought his mouth down softly on hers. “Very hard,” he whispered harshly, and his mouth turned rough and demanding.
She responded in kind, her own lips brutal in their need of him and her body growing just as needy.
He moved his mouth off hers long enough to demand that she rid herself of her clothes. She stood to do just that as a knock sounded on the door.
He cursed viciously and shouted for the intruder to be gone or face execution.
Borg laughed as he entered the room. “A message from Lord Donnegan.”
Faith immediately dropped down on the bed beside her husband and Eric instantly reached out and took her hand. She grasped onto his reassuring hold, squeezing firmly.
“What does he say?”
“That his journey has yet again been delayed and he will send you a message when he is able to travel.”
Bridget entered the open doorway with a worried expression. “Excuse me, my lord and my lady, but Mary the Cook is ill and requires attention.”
“You cannot see to it?” Eric snapped and received a sharp warning look from Borg.
Faith stood, releasing Eric’s hand. “It will take but a moment. And you should eat,” she suggested, pointing to the tray filled with food on the table.
“I am not hungry for food,” he insisted.
She leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, then whispered. “Satisfy your belly and then I will satisfy your passion.”
He smiled and returned her kiss, nipping playfully at her lips. “Nay, wife, ‘tis time for me to retaliate.”
Faith blushed a bright red as she hurried out of the room, Bridget fast on her heels.
Borg dragged the table, abundant with food on it, near to the bed and pulled up a chair.
“Do you intend to eat it all?” Eric said, sitting forward and piling pillows behind his back.
“You said you were not hungry,” Borg said, helping himself to the trencher of sweet potted herring spiced with wild onions and handing Eric a chunk of hard cheese.
Eric eyed the pitiful chunk of cheese with disgust. “You never were one for sharing food equally.”
Borg popped a slim onion in his mouth and mumbled, “Food fuels the body, gives one stamina.”
Eric reached out for the wooden bowl near the end of the table and smiled, pleased to find fresh salmon with leeks inside. “Hand over the bread.”
Borg broke off a hunk of the black bread and handed it to Eric, then broke off another, even bigger piece for himself. “All went well last night?”
“More than well—perfect,” Eric confirmed with a smug smile.
“Good. Now that you are finished acting like a fool we can concentrate on the problem.”
“I was not acting like a fool, and what problem?”
“The problem of who attempted to murder your wife?”
Eric did not seem the least surprised. “You have reached that conclusion also?”
“How could I not? He attacked with a knife, meaning to kill, not damage.”
Eric nodded. “I agree. I have been giving it thought as well and Faith suffered her wound because she fought him. If she had not her wounds would have been fatal.”
“Which leaves the question of who wanted her dead?”
“You have your choice of Donnegans.”
Borg scooped up a chunk of herring with the bread. “A stupid and greedy lot.”
“Stupidity and greed make for a dangerous enemy.”
Borg shook his head after emptying his tankard of ale with one swig. “Why would any of them want her dead?”
“That is the mystery that once solved will give us the attacker’s identity.”
Borg refilled his tankard and added more ale to Eric’s near-empty one. “Have you ever seen Faith enter the keep’s chapel?”
Eric was about to answer but paused momentarily in thought. “I cannot say I have ever seen her there. Why do you ask?”
“When I found her in her chambers she requested a few moments to offer a prayer. I followed her under fear of your wrath,” Borg said, grinning widely, “and she took herself to the west barican.”
“To pray?”
“Aye, to pray,” Borg confirmed. “And when I asked her why she did not go to the chapel she remarked something about wanting to look upon the heavens when she prayed.”
Eric thought this news over and added his own concerns. “You know Faith rarely grows ill.”
Borg nodded. “Aye, she is a fine, healthy woman.”
“The day that cleric stopped in his travels to offer blessings for those in the keep, I asked her if she wished to receive any blessing from him. She grew ill and spent the entire day in her bed.”
“You think her illness feigned and that one of the clergy could be responsible?”
“I think Faith knows more than she admits and I think I want my wife to trust me enough to speak to me of her fears and concerns.”
Borg threw his large hands up. “Not another skirmish.”
“Nay,” Eric said with a laugh. “The only skirmishes will be beneath the covers and I will always win.”
“My coins are still on the healer. She will be victorious and have you calling out her name in surrender.”
Eric laughed harder. “Brother, you win the wager. I thought the whole keep heard my pleading surrender last eve.”
“Faith is good for you,” Borg said seriously.
“Aye, that she is,” Eric agreed. “And I would surrender my life not only to her but for her.”
“Besotted,” Borg grinned, raising his tankard in a toast.
Love.
The word echoed in his mind but his lips repeated the toast. “Besotted.”
o0o
Mary lay on the single bed in the healing cottage, a damp cloth on her head, groaning. ‘Tis dying I am.”
A smile twitched at Faith’s mouth. “There will be no dying today.”
Rook sat beside the bed crying along in sympathy with the woman who gave him daily treats.
“Stop that, Rook,” Faith scolded, her mouth again threatening to smile outrageously. “Mary will be fine and you will continue to receive those treats you think I know nothing about.”
Rook immediately turned silent and cautiously made his way over to the hearth to stretch out. Mary continued the groaning on her own.
“How often have you had trouble keeping the food in your belly?”
“The last few days have been the worst and sometimes I do not even need food in me to have my belly protest,” Mary said, rubbing her wide yet firm stomach.
Faith nodded knowingly.
“Tell me the truth, my lady, please. I need to know if my stomach rots.”
She spoke so seriously that Faith grew alarmed. “You think your stomach rots?”
; “Aye, I have seen it in other women,” Mary insisted, sitting up, color having returned to her pale full face.
“And you think this is what ails you?” Faith asked.
“What else could it be?”
Faith smiled. “Think, Mary, you have been busy and not paying attention to your body. The signs are there for you to see.”
Mary frowned. “I am not a healer and do not know such signs.”
“Every woman knows these signs and if you but think you will know what grows in your stomach.”
Mary looked ready to shout at Faith when she suddenly jumped up and cried out. “I am with child!”
“Aye, you are,” Faith said as excited as the tearing woman in front of her.
“Thank you, my lady,” Mary said and scooped Faith up, hugging her to her ample bosom.
When Faith was finally placed on her feet again, she laughed. “I think it is your husband you should be thanking.”
Mary’s laugh was joyous. “I will do that tonight.”
Faith found the servant and peasant women easy to talk with. They were candid and honest in their speech and took pleasure in simple duties and daily life. Their lot was not easy and yet they loved and lived with an honest and joyful intensity she often found lacking in nobles. They accepted hardships with courage and strength and continued to survive and flourish in their own unique ways. They were the true sons and daughters of Ireland, fighting the land, the elements and the nobles who warred continuously to fatten their holdings.
She felt a kinship more with these people than with her own kind. Her stepmother had often remarked how she belonged with the peasants and Faith had to agree. She had found their kind more to her liking.
Mary finally calmed down enough for Faith to sit with her and talk. Faith recommended a mint brew to help keep her stomach calm. She also told her that she would speak to Lord Eric about providing Mary with more help in the kitchen.
Mary shook her head. “Nay, my lady, ‘tis my job and babe or not I must see to my chores.”
Faith surprised herself when she said, “I am lady of this keep and if I wish you to have extra help in the kitchen you will have extra help.”
“Aye, my lady, as you wish,” Mary said respectfully.
“Good,” Faith said, confirming her dictate more to herself than Mary.
After a few more instructions to Mary, Faith stood and with a smile ordered her to go talk with her husband. Mary’s expression turned sheer radiant and after many words of appreciation for all Faith had done for her and her husband, the joyful woman practically ran out of the cottage.
Faith was about to return to Eric when a castle worker showed up at her door, his hand bleeding. And so the next few hours passed by with one person or another needing attention. It was not until an hour or two past noon that Faith finished and with a rumble of thunder in the distance and heavy raindrops chasing her, she hastily returned to the castle.
Rook deserted her side upon entering the great hall, his nose having scented the makings of the evening meal. He seemed to have sensed she was safe once inside the keep and took himself off daily for regular visits to the kitchen before finding her once again. But if she stepped outside the keep he was always by her side.
She was pleased to see that Eric was sleeping when she entered his room. Pillows were scattered over the bed and he was turned slightly to his side. His long, dark hair fell back away from his handsome face and his arms hugged a pillow tightly to his chest. If she had been beside him she was certain it would be she he was embracing.
His hands had constantly reached out for her last night, not groping but to touch, to pull close, to stroke, to hold. He made her feel that he could not get enough of her.
“Come here,” he ordered softly, waking from his sleep to see her standing beside the bed.
She took a step toward him and his words stopped her.
“Nay, wife, I want you naked.”
She should have blushed, she should have protested, she should have reminded him of his manners, but instead she removed her clothes.
Chapter Twenty-four
Eric stretched his limbs; all the while keeping his eyes on his wife’s every move. He had grown annoyed and then tired waiting for her return and had slipped into an unexpected slumber. Now he was glad he had. He felt refreshed, rejuvenated and ready.
Ready to make love with his wife.
Faith stopped when she reached the bed and looked down at him. She shivered at the intensity of his blue eyes and the firm set of his jaw. He was determined and resembled more a warrior about to engage in battle than a husband about to make love to his wife.
He sensed her apprehension and with a smile that belied his sensuous intentions he held his hand out to her.
She took it and joined him, slipping beneath the blanket, the soft wool coming to rest at her waist. “Your leg does not pain you?”
“Always the healer,” he said and gently brushed his lips over hers. “My leg has caused me no pain and the bandage stays dry.”
“Rest does you well,” she said, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear and running her finger down along his firm jaw.
He nipped playfully at her finger as she passed it over his lips. “Rest bores me. I need activity.”
“You will rest,” she ordered sternly. “I will see you healed before you leave this bed.”
His smile was followed by a soft laugh. “And I will see you pleasured many times before I leave this bed.”
His intentions reminded her of Mary’s condition and she happily relayed the news to him. “Mary is with child and I told her she would receive extra hands in the kitchen.”
“As you wish.” He pushed the blanket down so he could splay his hand over her flat stomach. “When you grow large with our child you will take care.”
Faith placed her hand over his. “You have my word that I will take care of our child.”
His lips drifted to hers. “I will give you many children.”
“Promise?” she whispered, her lips reaching out to meet his.
“Promise,” he assured her and sealed his word with a kiss.
A sharp crack of thunder brought them apart and made Faith snuggle closer to her husband’s side. Eric felt her tremble against him and slipped his strong arms around her.
“Tell me of your fears, Faith,” he said, holding her close. While intimacy was foremost on his mind, questions nagged incessantly at him; besides, he wanted her to realize and accept the fact that she could trust the devil.
Her trembles subsided and she relaxed within his protective embrace. “I fear not having strength.”
“You have much strength for a woman and now you have me and I will always protect you.”
Her voice grew low. “Nothing is forever.”
Her truthful remark caused a ripple of fear to race through him. He had this moment here and now with his wife, but what of tomorrow? A day, an hour, a moment could change a person’s life forever, just as it had for her.
He took a chance with his next comment. “When you release me from the confines of this bed we will go to the chapel and pray that forever lasts for us.”
Her response did not surprise him. She stiffened.
He continued his pursuit of her secrets. “Borg mentioned that you prefer saying your prayers outside. Do you not like the chapel?”
“It is a lonely place,” she admitted softly.
“Not when the priest is in residence.”
This time she shivered.
He pulled the soft wool blanket up over her.
She changed the subject, choosing one he would eagerly respond to. She slipped her hand down between his legs and gently cupped him. “I like the feel of you, dear husband.”
His hand followed suit over her body. “And I you.”
The next crack of thunder did not disturb them, nor the sound of the torrential rain that drenched the land. The couple was lost in a world of passion, hearing only the sounds of their own su
rrenders.
o0o
Laughter and whispers followed all the servants of the keep. There was not one who did not comment on the incessant coupling of Lady Faith and the Irish devil. Wagers were being made on when the lady of the keep would be with child; others wagered on how many times Lord Eric would seek his wife out and they would disappear for a few hours or for the rest of the day. But the mainstay of the gossip was that the pretty healer had managed to tame the devil himself, and that topic would keep tongues wagging for some time.
Eric had been out of bed for near to two weeks. Faith had removed the stitches and pronounced him fit, though he could have told her that over a week ago. He had to admit that he did enjoy his convalescence in bed, especially since his wife spent most of the time there with him. He had learned more about pleasuring a woman’s body in that time than in all his combined years. He’d had the time to explore and discover and the discoveries he had made simply astounded him. He now knew every point and place on his wife’s body and how each would react to his touch or taste. He had even learned what words enticed and excited her and he often used them to his advantage.
On the other hand Faith had done her own exploring and he was surprised to learn just how crazy she could make him. She was well aware of how and where to touch him to get an immediate response, and a few of the places surprised him. They had grown to know each other well, though they still explored and made discoveries, which was why he was presently searching her out. He felt the urge to discover.
It was a couple of hours before supper. Borg had sought out Bridget, Colin was presently entertaining one of the servant girls and Eric was still in search of his wife. She had not been in the keep, her healing cottage was deserted and those he met around the castle grounds did not seem to know where she was. There was one place he had not looked, though he doubted she was there, but he headed in that direction anyway.
The stables soon came into his view and he hurried his steps. He was probably wasting his time and yet if someone was in need she would go, even to a place she feared.
The scent of fresh hay mixed with the pungent odor of animals assaulted his nostrils as he entered the stable. He had a large stable erected to house his horses and as he walked along the stalls that held the mighty beasts that had rode into battle with him he was reminded of how many times a few of them had saved his life. He stopped along the way to offer a comforting pat and an appreciative word to the fine animals.
The Irish Devil Page 26