by Maura Seger
When Guyon slid beneath the covers and reached out a gentle hand to draw her to him, Brenna started violently. Instantly, he soothed her. "I just want to hold you, Brenna. That's not so frightening, is it? You slept in my arms the night before last without objection."
Brenna now understood full well that Guyon was not embracing her simply to sleep, but she willed herself to go along with his gentle deception. Eased into his arms, her slender body was rigid against him until slowly Guyon's warmth, the smooth firmness of his skin, his tender stroking of her hair and back, the soft words he murmured all combined to ease Brenna's tension.
As her muscles relaxed and her body became more fluid, Guyon drew her even closer to him. He kept up the slow, easy motion of his hand down the length of her back, going just a little farther to caress the curve of her hip. Brenna sighed softly. Without being aware of it, she snuggled deeper into his powerfully muscled chest. A small, surprised smile touched her lips as she thought how pleasant this was. It was very nice to lie in a dark, quiet room and be fondled so gently. A small hand that had been tightly clenched uncurled. Without even noticing that she did so, Brenna touched the heavy mat of golden hair against which her cheek nestled. The tawny curls were undeniably inviting. Her fingers twined in them curiously as Brenna relished the startlingly new but highly enjoyable sensations darting through her.
Guyon stifled a groan, willing himself to remain still. The slender, lush body of his wife pressed so closely to him was wreaking havoc with his senses. He smiled wryly, aware that he would only have to move slightly to make Brenna acutely conscious of just what she was doing to him. But it was too soon for that. Somehow managing to sound as though he was requesting some perfectly commonplace service, he said, "Kiss me, Brenna."
Her eyes flew open. The small hand that had been so pleasantly occupied on his chest froze. "W-what?"
The topaz gaze caught and held her own as Guyon calmly reminded her, "You did say you'd do whatever I told you?" Reluctantly, Brenna nodded. "Then kiss me," he repeated.
Very slowly, Brenna raised herself up on one arm.
Guyon barely felt the brush of her lips against his cheek before her head darted back down.
"That won't do. Kiss me on the lips."
Brenna lifted her eyes reluctantly to look at him, as though trying to determine whether or not he was serious. When she saw that he was, she swallowed painfully. Timidly, she touched her mouth to his and instantly withdrew.
"Again," Guyon instructed, "and this time make it longer."
With her heart pounding and her breath locked in her throat, Brenna reluctantly obeyed. She let her lips linger against Guyon's a moment more before raising her head to stare curiously at him.
"You're getting better," he informed her blandly. "Kiss me once more, but this time part your lips and move them against mine."
Only the fact that he remained absolutely still beneath her allowed Brenna to do as he said. Had Guyon made any effort to take hold of her, she would have retreated fearfully. But only his lips moved under hers in a gentle, sweet kiss.
When Brenna drew back, she was breathing hard. Guyon observed the effect with secret pleasure. His instinctive guess that the best strategy would be to let her take the lead was proving correct. Unless he was very much mistaken, the first stirrings of desire could be seen in the gray-green pools gazing at him.
"Again," he murmured and this time Brenna obeyed without hesitation. Guyon allowed the kiss to go on for several moments before gently and carefully probing inward with his tongue. He heard Brenna gasp and was tempted to take hold of her, but stopped himself just in time. His restraint was rewarded. As Guyon deepened the kiss, Brenna made no effort to escape. Instead, she gave herself up to the languid warmth his touch evoked.
When he at last moved away, she was startled by a keen stab of disappointment which faded quickly as Guyon said, "Now you kiss me like that, Brenna."
To his utter delight, she did. Her caress was tentative at first, and he could feel her trembling with the heady combination of passion and fear. For a moment, he was uncertain she could really go through with it. But passion won and a piercing stab of pleasure shot through him as Brenna's small tongue timidly touched his own.
Guyon's self-control snapped. Arms like iron bands closed around Brenna as, in a single swift movement, he laid her flat on her back across the bed with his length stretched over her. This time when he kissed her, Guyon held nothing back. His mouth closed tenderly on hers, parting her lips and fully tasting her hidden sweetness. Stripping the gown swiftly from her body, he murmured her name hungrily as his hands stroked her tiny waist and ripe hips, returning to cup the small, firm breasts that hardened at his touch.
For several moments, Guyon allowed his passion free rein. His mouth nibbled a line of fire down her throat while his skillful hands caressed and teased and provoked exactly the response he sought. Caught unawares, Brenna was swamped by liquid flames of passion. She moaned softly, arching against him.
Before the full realization of what he was doing to her could pierce the cloud of her delight, Guyon drew back. The brief indulgence of his own driving need allowed him to somewhat restore his control. Thickly, he murmured, "Touch me, Brenna. I want to feel your hands on me."
A tiny whimper, not of fear but of desire, broke from her as slender hands stroked his heavily muscled shoulders and back. The warmth of his hair-roughened skin beneath her exploring fingers overwhelmed Brenna. Seized by a boldness she would not have imagined possible a few minutes before, she caressed the hard contours of his ribs, his lean waist and hips, even the sinewy thighs pressed so intimately against her.
"You learn fast," Guyon managed to mutter as he turned slightly, giving Brenna access to the broad, sun-bronzed expanse of his chest. She almost purred with pleasure as her hands touched the bulging muscles, fingers circling round the flat male nipples which, she was surprised to discover, were almost as sensitive as her own.
Spurred to discover what other parts of his body might be as susceptible to her touch, Brenna was momentarily stopped by the sudden awareness of something hard and alien brushing the softness between her legs. A tiny dart of fear, so benumbed by passion as to be almost unrecognizable, shot through her. Only to instantly dissolve under the renewed onslaught of Guyon's kisses.
Between mind-drugging caresses, he murmured, "I'm flesh and bone just like you, Brenna." A dry laugh escaped him. "Well, perhaps not exactly alike. But we were made to complement each other... to fit together perfectly... without pain or fear... only pleasure, Brenna... for both of us... not just me... I'll make you come alive with pleasure... you'll see...."
He was already doing that, Brenna thought dimly. Her whole body tingled to the delight of his caresses in ways she would never have imagined possible. Instincts long denied, but nonetheless in perfect working order, stirred within her. Moaning helplessly, Brenna's hips moved against Guyon in a rhythm as old as love itself.
"Brenna," he gasped thickly, "God, you're so beautiful... so warm and sweet and welcoming... Let me show you how it can be...."
His mouth took her nipple, sucking gently as knowing fingers found the silken skin of her inner thigh and stroked upward. Brenna whimpered in near-painful need as he touched the moist core of her, stroking and caressing the satiny folds before carefully probing inward.
Brenna arched against his hand, unable to believe the lightning bolts of pleasure rippling through her. Her arms went around him tightly, drawing him even closer as slowly, tenderly, Guyon prepared her for him.
His patience was infinite. Certain now that no further thought of refusal remained in Brenna's mind, he held back through his own determination to make the experience perfect for her. Drawing on all his knowledge and skill, he unleashed a storm within her that only his complete possession could still.
When his lips left her hardened nipples to wander down the smooth skin of her abdomen, Brenna moaned in delight. But the moan turned to a gasp of surprise when Guyon's hot,
insistent mouth found her most sensitive point. Shock at the boldness of his caress vanished before the onslaught of ecstasy so intense as to be almost painful.
Brenna cried out once, then again. Her slender body, glowing with a sheen of perspiration, arched against the bed. Her small hands clenched spasmodically into the mattress. She was seized by an immense wave of pleasure that carried her higher and higher until the world exploded in a panorama of whirling lights and nerve-shattering sensation.
When consciousness returned, Brenna found herself lying limply across the bed. Guyon was gazing down at her tenderly. The warm glow in his topaz eyes made her flush as he brushed a gentle kiss against love-bruised lips. "Brenna," he breathed, "such an exquisite woman... so giving..."
Unbelievably the touch of his body against hers and the deep, warm caress of his voice roused Brenna at once. Knowing only that she had to be as close to him as possible, her body moved achingly against his, low whimpers of need breaking from her.
Guyon waited no longer. Lying her flat on the bed, he knelt above the writhing body of his wife, tenderly parting her legs. Again he found the warm, moist entrance to her and carefully eased her open before the hard, pulsating shaft of his manhood replaced his hand. Pressing just the smallest way in, he arched her hips upward, allowing her ultrasensitive pearl to rub against his shaft.
What his warm, tugging mouth had accomplished only minutes before happened again. A scream of pure ecstasy tore from Brenna as the wave carried her even higher, shattering every cell of her being and sending her in a weightless, fearless spiral into the sky.
At the instant of his wife's greatest joy, Guyon plunged inward. He pierced the final barrier with a single thrust and began to move within her in deep, slow strokes that quickly brought his own pleasure to a crescendo. Together they scaled the exquisite heights of rapture before at last exploding together in an intensity of delight that rivaled the very heavens. So intense was Brenna's pleasure that she fainted beneath her husband's powerful, surging body.
When his heartbeat had slowed somewhat and his breathing more or less returned to normal, Guyon moved carefully in the bed. He drew his unconscious wife to him tenderly, pulling the covers over them both before the combined effects of profound relief and ecstasy greater than any he had yet known overtook him and he, too, slipped into dreamless sleep.
Brenna woke to the unaccustomed sensation of something warm and hard close against her. She stirred gingerly, unwilling to disturb the delightful sense of well-being radiating through her. Her smooth leg touched Guyon's hair-roughened thigh and she gasped softly. In the bright morning light filtering through the shutters, she could make out his features clearly. Asleep, he looked younger and even somehow vulnerable. The hard lines of his face were relaxed and the immense strength of his body temporarily dormant. Thick, sun-tipped lashes, touchingly long for a man, fell across his tanned cheeks. Brenna touched a finger to them wonderingly. She caught herself thinking how beautiful such lashes would look on a little girl, and blushed.
The events of the previous night might have seemed nothing more than a wonderful dream, except for the utter peace of her mind and body. She felt at once taken out of herself and made complete. It was as though some vital part of the puzzle had slipped into place. She knew herself in a way she would never have thought possible, and she knew Guyon to a degree that made her flush.
Hardly daring to breathe, Brenna stroked the expanse of sun-bronzed shoulders and chest showing above the sheet. His skin was just as she remembered; warm and smooth with parts pleasantly roughened by golden hairs. Emboldened by his stillness, her hand stroked lower, touching his thigh through the bedcovers. A movement beneath the sheet distracted her. In the next instant, Brenna gasped as Guyon's manhood thrust hard and urgent against her exploring hand.
"If you insist on so arousing me first thing in the morning, my lady," he growled good-naturedly, "you must be prepared for the consequences."
The experiences of the night before had instilled Brenna with new-found confidence, and curiosity. Boldly, she said, "It seems to have a life of its own, doesn't it?"
Guyon choked with laughter. Sputtering, he nodded. "It does indeed, my sweet, and you inspire it to be livelier than ever!"
Giggling, Brenna observed the still-growing bulge beneath the sheet. "Isn't it uncomfortable?" she shortly asked.
Guyon's fervent agreement left no doubt that he was suffering acutely. Their laughter mingled as joyfully as their bodies as he swiftly tossed back the covers and pulled his wife into his eager arms.
This time their lovemaking was less gentle, but nonetheless satisfying. In the moments before all conscious thought became impossible, Brenna learned somewhat more about how her husband's body and her own functioned. She gloried in their union, dimly recalling Guyon's assurances that they were made to fit together perfectly.
How right he was! Brenna thought dreamily sometime later when passion had stilled to warm contentment. She cuddled happily in his arms, her head against his chest and her legs entwined with his. But for the ever-increasing sounds from the bailey beneath their windows and the knowledge that they would shortly have visitors, they could easily have drifted back into sleep. Brenna was almost there when a knock at the door brought her upright.
Guyon slid easily from the bed, utterly unselfconscious about his nakedness. As Brenna burrowed furiously under the covers, he flung open the door to accept a tray of food and drink from a grinning servant. Her face was bright red when he returned, depositing the tray on a nearby table while smiling at her broadly.
"Planning to remain abed all day, my lady?" Guyon teased.
Brenna shook her head, but refused either to look at him or move until Guyon fetched a robe for each of them. Only when they were both more or less decent did she deign to join him at breakfast.
Never had food tasted so good to Brenna. Greedily spreading a thick slice of bread with honey, she ignored Guyon's derisive snort and munched contentedly. He didn't stint, she noticed, as the provisions were rapidly depleted. With the worst of their hunger eased, they fed each other choice bits washed down with sweet milk. By the time breakfast was finished, Brenna was ensconced on her husband's lap, giggling happily and wishing they could stay just the two of them in the quiet room all day.
But it wasn't to be. Shortly their privacy would be invaded by the last ritual of marriage. Resignedly, they rose to dress. Before the servants were admitted, and then the delegation of lords and ladies came to confirm that there was in fact a marriage, Guyon surprised Brenna by returning to the bed. Swiftly he stripped back the covers, exposing the mattress to his gaze.
Puzzled, she came to stand behind him, her eyes slowly widening as Brenna realized that the sheet she had lain upon was unstained. Where was the proof of virginity that should surely be there? The proof the lords and ladies would expect to see? Frantically, she looked at her husband, a denial of guilt springing to her lips.
Guyon stilled her with a gentle kiss. "Hush, Brenna, there's nothing to be afraid of. The clean sheet is proof of my own skill, not any lack on your part."
When she still didn't understand, he had the grace to blush before explaining, "If a man has some experience with women..." He broke off. That was wrong. The sudden flare in Brenna's eyes warned him his wife didn't want to hear about his previous experiences. "That is to say," he started over, "if a man is considerate, there's no reason a woman should suffer the first time she makes love. I know full well you were virgin. It only remains to convince the lords and ladies of that."
"But how..." she began.
The sudden appearance of a knife in her husband's hand stopped her. As Brenna watched in disbelief, Guyon calmly slit the inside of his forearm, allowing the blood to drip onto the previously clean sheet. When he was satisfied with the amount, he wrapped a cloth around the wound. Kissing her lightly, he said, "Wave the blanket over it so it dries quickly. Then that should satisfy the most probing eyes."
White-faced, she hastened
to do as he said. Guyon watched her, smiling. There were less dramatic ways to fool the delegation, a pig's bladder filled with blood being a popular alternative, but he had seized the opportunity to convince Brenna of his devotion to her. Though he was more than satisfied by her response of the previous night and that morning, he knew there was still some distance to go before she would be fully at ease with him. To help bring that about, he intended to leave no doubt in her mind that she could trust and rely on him utterly. On Guyon's part, he knew beyond question that he would protect his lovely young wife with his very life. That knowledge made him feel oddly humble. He had never expected to find such love. Having found it, he would nurture and cherish it against all dangers.
The thought of danger reminded him that there were matters about which he and Brenna still had to speak. Sometime soon he must gently help her remember the origins of her fears. Now that they seemed in large part banished, he felt safe in doing so. When she knew what he had learned from her sister and the Earl, the past could truly be put to rest and they could get on with their life together.
Smiling to himself, Guyon went to admit the servants and begin the first of what he fully expected would be many happy days.
Chapter Eight
"There's no reason to be concerned, my dear," the Lady Matilda insisted. "You look lovely."
Brenna managed to smile, but inwardly she was not convinced. She considered the Norman fashions far too revealing. Whereas the pleated tunics and loose-fitting mantles she customarily wore merely hinted at the beauty of her form, these new clothes fit so snugly as to hide almost nothing.
A light blue tunic clung so closely to her body that through it the hardness of her nipples and even the indentation of her navel could be seen. The crimson surcoat worn over it made the garment decent, but just barely. Tightly laced at the sides, the surcoat fully revealed the ripe curve of her breasts and the smallness of her waist which was further accentuated by a tightly wrapped jeweled belt. The early fall weather was still too warm to require a mantle, but