Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “W-What’s the matter? What did I say?”

  He shook his head, unwilling to elaborate on the apprehension that filled his veins the moment she mentioned their prospective children. God’s Beard, their entire introduction and courtship had been such a whirlwind of emotion and activity that he had never truly been given the chance to linger on the potential of offspring. And given a moment to reflect, he realized the very thought scared him witless.

  “Nothing, love,” he replied. “Nothing at all.”

  Struggling to distract both her and himself, he kissed her firmly on the lips. But the effort wasn’t hard fought; the moment she responded to his seeking mouth, he forgot about everything but his growing feelings for her.

  Genisa’s scarlet and gold gown was coming off. Summer felt the stays as they loosened, the silken material as it slid over her shoulders and down her torso. Bose’s warm, calloused palms were against her breasts, bare flesh to bare flesh, and she again groaned softly with the wonder of it. When his lips left hers and moved tenderly to a swollen nipple, Summer did not protest the action.

  An afternoon of private touches and awesome discovery had done well enough to prepare her for the event of his mouth upon her breast. He had fondled her a great deal beneath Grandfather’s oak, stroking her through the confining material of her gown and listening to her soft grunts of pleasure. But he hadn’t merely touched her breasts; his seeking, curious hands had moved about her entire body, snaking up her skirt and caressing the silken flesh of her thighs. The true jewel of his search, however, had remained untouched during the course of their time together.

  A looming discovery that caused his hands to shake with anticipation as his scarred, course fingers danced underneath her skirts. Suckling her breasts, his hands skimmed her shapely legs, moving beyond her knees and lingering in the moist warmth between her thighs. Pushing her legs apart gently, he continued to blaze a trail up her silken thigh until the delicate brush of kinked hair tickled the tips of his fingers.

  Beneath him, Summer lurched with surprise and Bose’s head came up from her beautiful breasts, his eyes glazed with desire. She met his gaze, her half-lidded expression fearful and curious at the same time. He smiled faintly.

  “Do not be afraid, love. I’ll be gentle.”

  She blinked as if pondering his statement. “I-I… I-I am not. But you did n-not touch me… earlier, b-beneath the tree, y-you did not….”

  He shushed her softly, stroking her cheek with infinite tenderness. “There is no need to be nervous, love. Relax and take a deep breath. That’s my good girl.”

  A faint flush mottled Summer’s cheeks as she did as she was told, calming the severe stammer that always accompanied an attack of nerves. After a moment, her half-lidded gaze of desire transformed into a more lucid, serious expression.

  “There is so much I do not know,” she said softly, her fingers toying with his hair. “The ways of men and women… I know the physical aspects of coupling, but that is where my knowledge ends. You’ve been married before and….”

  “And I fully intend to teach you everything I have learned if you will allow me,” he interrupted her quietly. After a moment, he removed her fidgeting hand from his hair and kissed the palm gently. “I will not continue if you do not want me to. I apologize if you believe my actions bold, for certainly, my sole intention was to demonstrate my feelings for you and nothing more. I never meant to frighten you.”

  She watched him as he nibbled on her hand. “I am not frightened,” she said softly, a half-truth. “B-But this is all happening so fast that I can scarcely comprehend all of it.”

  He smiled, reading her uncertainty and deciding not to force himself on her this night. If all went according to plan, they would be wed shortly and he could spend the rest of his life teaching her the finer arts of lovemaking. Until then, however, he was perfectly content to wait. At least, he would make an attempt to maintain a proper patience. But, God’s Beard, the wait would be a difficult one.

  Pulling her skirts down, he shifted his massive frame so that he was looming over her, well removed from the temptation of her forbidden zone. Summer met his gaze, seeing the beads of sweat upon his brow and not unaware they were the results of a passionate fire raging wildly out of control.

  “Forgive me for spoiling your passion,” she said softly. “I certainly did not mean to.”

  He shook his head, kissing her delicious lips. “You did not,” he whispered against her mouth. “’Tis proper that we should wait for the marriage bed, of course. If your brothers demand bloodied sheets that I am unable to supply, I suspect you will be a widow before your next birthday.”

  She giggled softly, returning his gentle kisses. “You may continue to touch my breasts if that will help control your lust.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, passing a lingering glance at her beautifully full breasts pressed against his chest. “I… I do not believe that to be a wise action, but I thank you for the invitation.”

  “B-But why?” she was genuinely puzzled by his rejection. “I thought you wanted to touch them. This afternoon, your hands scarcely touched anything else.”

  He sighed, scratching his chin as he pondered the proper words to explain himself. “Believe me when I tell you that touching your breasts will not bank my passions, love. Touching them will only stoke the fires.”

  Her brow furrowed. “I do not understand.”

  He sighed again, clearing his throat for good measure as he groped for the correct wording. “You see… Summer, love, your breasts arouse me terribly. Here,” he took her hand, putting it to his groin. Through his breeches, Summer could feel his rock-hard arousal and her eyes widened. Meeting her astonished gaze, he nodded faintly. “Do you feel my want for you? A want that will only be sated when I join my body to yours. If I continue touching your breasts, the want will build and build until I explode. But if I refrain from touching you and we change the subject, the want will naturally fade.”

  “And you will n-not explode?”

  He grinned. “A figure of speech, love. But I most certainly will wish I could explode if my loins grow any harder.”

  Her warm hand lingered on his pulsing bulge a moment longer before removing it, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment, she shook her head with wonder. “T-This is all so new to me. I have seen dogs mate, of course… and once, I happed upon a soldier and a serving wench in the alcove near the kitchens. There was a good deal of grunting and squealing and…” she shook her head again. “When we mate, you will spill your seed into my womb, will you not?”

  He nodded, amazed that she was thinking so clearly and clinically about a most personal subject. Even this afternoon, when he had touched her breasts and explored her body in a limited fashion, she had showed surprisingly little resistance or fear. Certainly, the subject of physical interaction between a man and a woman was hardly a worthy focus of conversation for an innocent young maiden, but she was obviously unembarrassed by such discussion and he endeavored to answer her inquisitive questions honestly.

  “I will,” he replied. “That is how children are conceived.”

  “I know,” she responded softly. “Kermit told me.”

  “Who is Kermit?”

  He swore he saw a flash of pain in the darkly gold eyes. “He was my father’s steward until his d-death last year. He taught me everything about life and schooled me in various subjects,” suddenly, a mischievous sparkle appeared in her eye, quickly replacing the tinge of sorrow. “I swore that I w-would name my first born son after my dearest friend and tutor. I rather like the name Kermit de Moray.”

  He cocked a disagreeable eyebrow. “And I do not. Hardly an appropriate name for my….”

  Abruptly, he found himself unable to complete the sentence. Hardly an appropriate name for my son. Once again, feelings of anxiety descended upon him as he allowed himself to imagine Summer conceiving a child, enduring a horrific pregnancy implanted with a babe far too large for her small frame to carry. An infant
the size and power of his illustrious father, bringing yet another de Moray wife to ruin and death.

  Bose struggled to erase the terrifying visions. Gazing into Summer’s inquisitive golden eyes, he decided that her life was worth far more than that of a potential heir. Above all else, Summer would live a long and prosperous existence by his side and although they would be without a son to carry on the de Moray name, he would still retain the one individual without whose love he could not endure. Above all else, he could not lose his wife.

  “You are lost to me, darling,” Summer’s voice was soothing, sweet. “You have c-chosen another name for our son?”

  “Nay, love,” he shook his head, forcing aside disturbing visions of pregnancy and birth. “No… no other name.”

  She smiled, willing to believe that even if he had selected another name, he would bow to her wishes nonetheless. “Of course, you and Lora had c-chosen a name for your child. What was it?”

  He suddenly pushed himself from the bed, running his fingers through his black hair in an agitated gesture. Smile fading, Summer sat up from the mattress and covered her breasts with her unfastened bodice. Realizing she had upset him with her reference to his dead wife, she hastened to ease his anger.

  “I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I did not mean to make light of Lora’s death. P-please forgive me.”

  He immediately held out a quieting, apologetic hand, turning to face her. The dim light cast from the crackling hearth gave her a glowing, ethereal appearance and his heart leapt wildly at the sight of her, more pain and anguish and bewilderment filling his mind than he had ever conceived possible.

  “You did nothing of the kind, love,” his voice was tight with emotion. Again, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I… I suppose the excitement of our relationship has finally caught up to me, too.”

  If she suspected his lie, she did not express her reservation. Instead, a timid smile creased her lips and she replaced her bodice, rising from the bed so that Bose could re-secure the stays. Obediently, silently, he helped her dress and took her in his arms when she was properly clad. Smelling her fragrance, feeling her warmth, helped clear his head tremendously;

  “I suppose I should leave you to retire,” he said hoarsely, his face buried in her hair. “You have had a most trying day.”

  Head against his shoulder, Summer inhaled deeply the fragrance of his distinct musk, finding it exceedingly masculine and comforting.

  “As you have also,” removing her face from his flesh, her fingers gingerly traced the stitches in his scalp. “Let there be no more w-wounds come the morrow’s joust. I have had my fill.”

  He smiled, his black eyes twinkling. “Aye, my lady. I shall endeavor to do my best.”

  “See that you do.” When his great head dipped low, capturing her lips tenderly within his own, she melted against his searing touch and a soft moan escaped her mouth. “Good Lord, Bose, I can h-hardly stand the thought of not seeing you ’til morn. And what will happen when the tourney is over? When will I see…?”

  A heavy rap shook the chamber door, vibrating the wall with the force of the blow. Summer gasped with surprise while Bose, consummately undisturbed, made sure his dagger was within easy reach before moving to the bolted panel.

  “Who comes?” he demanded.

  There was a slight pause before a strained, decidedly familiar voice wafted from the other side. “Open the door, de Moray. Immediately.”

  Bose passed a glance to Summer, not surprised to note her uncertainty and, he thought, chagrin. “It’s Stephan!” she hissed.

  Prepared for a harsh tongue-lashing, Bose unbolted the door and opened it. Not only was Stephan at the door, but Ian and Lance were hovering in the corridor as well and Bose stepped aside, ushering them into the chamber.

  Stephan’s expression was grim as he eyed the massively dark knight. He paused a moment before speaking. “I am sure you will understand my position when I say that I am uncomfortable with this situation. Betrothed or not, my sister is not yet your wife and I will not have her reputation sullied by the actions of an aggressive suitor,” before Bose could reply, Stephan looked to his flush-faced sister. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? You know better than to allow a man into your bedchamber, Summer.”

  Swallowing hard, Summer wrung her hands in unconscious apprehension. “I-I… t-that is, we’ve done n-n-nothing but speak, S-Stephan. S-S-Sir Bose has been a perfect g-gentleman.”

  Bose sighed sadly, noting the strong return of her stammer where for the past several minutes the habit had been virtually forgotten.

  “I was just leaving, Stephan,” Bose said quietly, eyeing Lance and Ian. Ian seemed remarkably composed whereas a drunken Lance was torn between concentrating on his scowl and making certain he remained upright long enough to ensure his sister’s reputation. “I simply escorted my lady to her chamber and was preparing to bid her a good sleep.”

  Truthfully, Stephan did not seem overly furious that his sister had been found in a compromising position with her future husband. If anything, he seemed to be enforcing the strict code of chivalry and morality simply because, true to his words, his sister was technically still an unwed maiden. Since the moment Summer and Bose were seen entering the keep in one another arm’s, the rumors had been flying fast and furious and Stephan, newly returned from his rendezvous with his wife, had collected his brothers and moved to correct the potentially damaging situation.

  “So you have managed to solicit a betrothal contract out of my father,” Stephan’s voice was quiet. Approving, even. “Ian told me of his reluctance in granting your request. Rest assured that I shall speak with him come the morn, when his alcohol has evaporated and his mind is sane once more.”

  Bose bowed his head slightly. “Your assistance would be tremendously appreciated, Stephan.”

  Stephan simply nodded, returning his focus to his sister. He softened. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ll make a fine wife.”

  She smiled timidly. “T-Thank you for your support, S-Stephan,” she said softly. “However, there seems to be a problem already; B-Bose does not like the name Kermit.”

  The statement brought a laugh from Ian and a belated chuckle from Lance, once he realized through his drunken haze what had been said. Stephan smiled broadly, casting Bose a long gaze.

  “Poor man. I have a feeling he will agree to your demands regardless of his personal opinion,” when Bose shrugged weakly, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes, Stephan’s own smile faded as the reality of the situation once again came to bear; certainly, he had no intention of leaving the couple as he had found them. For appearance sake, it was best that Bose retreat for the evening. “As you can see, my lord, my sister has safely reached her bedchamber and is eager to retire. I thank you for your escort, but your presence is no longer required.”

  Realizing that he was being dismissed, Bose again nodded faintly and looked to Summer, her golden gaze warm and tender. Reluctant to leave her but knowing it was best, he moved quietly for the door. In the archway, however, he paused, once again meeting Stephan’s brilliant green orbs.

  The silent words of approval and understanding were unmistakable. Stephan had as much as voiced his approval and Ian had all but forced Edward to accept Bose’s marriage request. Slowly but surely, the du Bonne brothers were accepting him for their sister. Four years of rumors and vicious lies notwithstanding, Bose was pleased to realize that the truth had finally triumphed.

  “Good eve to you, Stephan,” he said steadily. “Lance, I would suggest you retire immediately lest you provide Tate with a supreme opportunity for victory come the morrow. And Ian…,” when the largest du Bonne brother met his gaze, something of a faint smile playing upon his lips, Bose smiled in return. “I will see you on the morrow as well. The second round, I believe.”

  “I shall be ready, my lord,” Ian replied as if he held no fear of the man and his talents.

  Bose held his gaze a moment, a knowing smirk on his lips, when Summer sudde
nly moved into his line of sight. Putting her arm about Ian’s waist, she looked to Bose with an imploring expression.

  “Mayhap you should consider allowing Ian to emerge triumphant on the morrow, Bose,” she said seriously, nary a stammer to her speech. “After all, had it not been for my brother, you and I would not be betrothed.”

  A perfectly executed sentence. As the trio of brothers looked to their baby sister in astonishment, Bose merely smiled. “Indeed, my lady, I completely agree with the latter portion of your statement. As for the first,” he tore his gaze away from her long enough to look at Ian. “I shall have to think of another way to thank your brother for his support, considering I promised you I would win the joust.”

  Summer returned his smile. “As you say, my lord.”

  Before Bose could reply, Lance staggered before his sister, weaving dangerously. “Summer!” he gasped. “You… you did not stutter at all!”

  She looked to him as if his notation hardly warranted consideration. “Indeed, Lance. What did you think Bose and I were d-doing in my chamber, hidden away from the world? He was helping me with my speech. I’ll become better, with practice.”

  Stephan, his mouth open with incredulity, moved to stand beside his drunk, equally amazed brother. “He was helping you?” he repeated, baffled and delighted and utterly awed. “I do not understand. By what magic did he do this?”

  Lingering by the door, Bose endeavored to enter the conversation. “No magic, Stephan. With a good deal of patience and encouragement, anything can happen.” Winking to Summer when she met his glittering gaze, he moved to quit the chamber. “Good sleep to you, love. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

  He was gone, leaving three puzzled but delighted men and one besotted lady and all of them believing that the Gorgon, indeed, could conjure his own private magic.

  *

  “You have interrupted my sleep this night to rehash old rumors and hearsay that I am already well aware of?” he questioned the red-headed knight with a good deal of annoyance, his head aching and his vision swimming. “I allowed you into my chamber based on your declaration of an emergency regarding my daughter. If you consider a betrothal to Bose de Moray an emergency, then vacate my chamber at once and stop wasting my time.”