by Christine Merrill, Michelle Willingham, Louise Allen, Terri Brisbin
‘Sarah,’ he murmured against her neck. ‘Sweetheart. Are you all right?’ He released her wrists and her hands fell to his shoulders and he stood upright, bringing her with him.
‘Mmm,’ she managed to murmur, every inch of her aware of him, his strength and the scent of aroused man and the hardness pressed against her.
‘I didn’t hurt you?’ She shook her head, the world gradually stopping spinning. ‘You were angry. I was, too, because you were. I didn’t know you would be here, any more than you knew I would. Listen, sweet—’ he cradled her against himself, rocking her gently ‘—this can’t go on, we have to talk…to resolve this.’
‘No, I don’t want…’ she began, trying to explain, terrified what his sense of honor might compel him to say. One moment she thought herself in love with a man who knew he could never offer for her, even should he wish to, the next she found he was a man who would feel obliged to do so. Which, her spinning brain tried to fathom, was better? Or were they both too bad to bear?
‘You don’t want me?’ he asked softly, holding her tenderly now as though that turmoil of exciting, angry passion had never been. ‘I might have something to say to that.’
‘You cannot force me,’ Sarah began and felt him stiffen as though she had hit him again. ‘I—’
‘Was that a bat?’ an alarmed feminine voice demanded just the other side of the bushes. ‘Because if it is, I am going right back inside, Elinor Ravenhurst. I don’t care how interesting the stars are.’
Maude? Elinor?
‘Don’t be foolish.’ That was Elinor. ‘It is an old wives’ tale that they get into your hair.’
‘Lady Maude, Miss Ravenhurst! Have you seen Miss Tatton?’ Mrs. Catchpole sounded breathless. ‘I do not know where she can have got to. I am most alarmed. Lady Dereham must organize a search party.’
Jonathan appeared to be shaking, then she realized he was laughing. Sarah elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
‘Oh, she’s here, Mrs. Catchpole,’ Elinor said blithely. ‘In those bushes. It was the bats, you see. We came out to look at the stars, the three of us, and then the bats swooped down and Sarah screamed and dived into the bush.’
Jonathan reacted faster than she did, brushing down her skirts, pushing a loose curl behind her ear. ‘We will speak tomorrow,’ he whispered, giving her a little push.
Sarah stumbled out onto the lawn looking, she was certain, as though she had been pulled through the hedge backward, rather than having merely taken refuge in it.
‘Sarah! Look at you,’ Mrs. Catchpole fussed.
‘We’ll go to my room and tidy up.’ Maude tucked her hand into Sarah’s arm and whisked her away down the path toward the house, leaving the chaperone trapped by Elinor’s careful explanation of how one could identify the constellation Leo.
‘What is going on?’ Sarah demanded as Maude shut the door and stood there beaming at her.
‘It’s him, isn’t it? Your highwayman, only he’s really Jonathan Kirkland, Lord Redcliffe. I’ve known him for years, so I could see he’d had a shock, and then I saw your face and the two of you were having that really splendid tiff, so we thought, Elinor and I, that we had better leave you to it, but keep an eye on you. And then Mrs. Catchpole started flapping about so we came to rescue you.’ She sat down on the bed. ‘But what was he doing pretending to be a highwayman?’
‘It was a bet,’ Sarah said as Elinor came in.
‘Well, you’ve found each other now,’ she said prosaically. ‘I wonder why lovers so often have such huge rows? It seems most strange.’
‘I know why I’m angry,’ Sarah said, sitting down before her knees gave way. ‘But I don’t know what he has to be cross about. He didn’t tell me who he was because he thinks I’d have expected him to offer for me.’
‘Did he say so?’ Maude began to brush the back of Sarah’s dress. ‘Tsk! Lichen everywhere.’
‘No, but what other reason could there be for not saying, once he knew my name?’
‘Have you asked him?’ Elinor inquired, looking up from her notebook.
‘Not exactly.’ Sarah bit her lip. ‘I hit him. On the chest with my fists and I shouted at him. He was quite angry.’
Maude began to giggle. ‘I’m not surprised. Wait until the morning. I am sure you will both be in a better frame of mind by then.’
The morning, after a night of restless sleep disturbed by quite shocking dreams, hardly seemed more promising. The breakfast parlor was populated by heavy-eyed guests sipping coffee, while many seemed to have decided to stay in their rooms.
Jonathan was seated at the far end of the table when Sarah entered with Mrs. Catchpole. He rose with the other men, then resumed his seat with a fleeting glance in her direction.
She was still pushing her omelette listlessly around her plate half an hour later when Lady Dereham appeared at her side. ‘Lord Redcliffe has asked if he might speak with you in my sitting room at your convenience.’
Sarah stared. Her chaperone sat bolt upright, looking for all the world like a pointer that had sighted game. ‘Sarah, dear! We must—’
‘Do not disturb yourself, ma’am. I will escort Sarah.’ Bel had her out of the room before Mrs. Catchpole could react. ‘You look very well, my dear. There is no need to go and primp. Here we are.’ Bel opened the door, gave her a little push and closed it, leaving her alone with the Earl of Redcliffe.
‘Oh.’ It was not the most intelligent thing she could have found to say. Sarah bit her lip and regarded his unsmiling face.
‘Sarah. I have, this morning, written to your father. I thought I should show it to you before I send it.’ He held out a sheet of paper.
‘Written?’ She took it. The words were out of focus.
‘Yes. I realize that to call would be more conventional. It was my intention to return to Saint’s Ford Manor and do the thing in style, but now…Sarah, there is no way I can wait.’
‘You intended to come back to me?’ She stared at the firm black letters, willing them to make sense.
‘Of course. I had to lose the highwayman, speak to my bankers about the settlement, have a haircut—all the things a hopeful suitor needs to do.’
‘Suitor? Why?’ She thrust the letter back at him. ‘I cannot seem to focus.’
‘Sit down then, and I will read to you.’ He guided her to the sofa, then stood before the hearth and cleared his throat.
‘“Sir Hugh, I write to inform you of my intention to pay my addresses to your daughter, Miss Sarah Tatton. I cannot pretend that my attachment to her was not sudden. In fact I believe it was, if not love at first sight, then most certainly love from the first moment she allowed me to press a respectful salutation upon her lips.”
‘You spoke?’
Sarah shook her head, dumb with delight. Respectful salutation? That must be the first kiss that he took when they met. He was making it sound as if he had met her for the first time here, when in fact…
‘“My standing and circumstances you may ascertain from an inspection of the Peerage. In regard to my intentions as to settlements, I trust the enclosed papers from my lawyer will prove satisfactory…” etc., etc.’ Jonathan folded the paper.
‘Well, Miss Tatton? You are, I believe, of age, which means that I need not await a response from your father but may do this now.’ He went down on one knee beside her. ‘Sarah.’ His voice was husky and she found she could not breathe, just stare into his eyes, trapped by the intensity in them. ‘I love you. I think I loved you from that first kiss. I knew I loved you when I felt the pain of thinking you had offered me payment for lying with you. My fault, I confess, was to go and leave you without explanation, but I did it intending to return as an entirely respectable suitor. Like an idiot I wanted to surprise you, to have everything in place, perfect. Do you forgive me?’
‘Oh, yes. I love you, too, you see. I don’t need everything to be perfect, I just need you.’ She had found her tongue, and her eyes focused clearly on his face and she reached out and cupped
his cheek with a hand that was steady.
‘And you will marry me?’
And instead of answering, she simply leaned forward and kissed him and never noticed until afterward that her cheeks were wet.
‘Lady Redcliffe, you are blushing.’ Her new husband set Sarah on her feet beside the wide bed and bent to kiss her. ‘Now what, after all the things we have enjoyed together, can be making you shy now?’
‘This is different,’ she confessed, reaching up to undo his neckcloth.
‘Yes,’ Jonathan agreed, leaving her fully clothed while she undressed him and then slowly, gently, unveiling her body until they stood facing each other in the twilit room, naked. ‘I love you and now you are mine.’
‘I know. And you are my husband and we no longer have to be careful. Will you show me how to love you?’
And without answering with words he lifted her onto the bed and began to woo her with lips and tongue and gentle, wicked fingers until the familiar, insistent throb took over and her head began to turn, restless on the pillow, and her own hands stopped caressing and could only hold him and he shifted his weight and lay between her thighs.
‘Don’t be frightened.’ He moved slowly, nudging, and she smiled, heady with pleasure, tingling with anticipation.
‘I’m not frightened. I just want you so much. Want you inside me, to be around you, to hold you in every way I can.’ It felt strange and powerful, the inexorable, heavy pressure, but her body seemed to know what to do and was accepting him. She shifted, searching for the best position, and then he smiled and surged against her and she gasped, pain flickering past to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of completion.
Jonathan stilled above her, his eyes intense on her face. They were so closely joined that she could feel the pressure of his hipbones, the tantalizing brush and weight of his testicles, the friction of his body hair. And then, as she dared to breathe again, to relax, she could feel him inside her and realized that she could tighten around him and that when she did he groaned and closed his eyes and thrust.
She could match the surging, deep rhythm, tightening, caressing, and his eyes opened again and the look in them took her breath and she held on and let herself fly until he thrust deeper than ever with a hoarse cry and she felt him convulse inside her, spilling life and heat into her, and she let go and joined him in the velvet darkness.
Sarah came to herself to find they were wrapped together, her head on his breast, their legs twined. ‘In August,’ Jonathan said, his hand stroking possessively down her body, ‘I asked you for the most precious thing you possessed. Thank you for giving it to me.’
‘My virginity?’ Sarah queried, raising herself on her elbow to smile at him.
‘No.’ The deep green eyes smiled back. ‘Your heart, my darling.’
‘How could I help it?’ She bent and kissed him. ‘A highwayman stole it quite away.’
A NIGHT FOR HER PLEASURE
Terri Brisbin
Author Note
Welcome to the beginning of my new series of stories about the knights of Brittany! Four sexy, brave warriors—three illegitimate and one noble—were fostered and raised together and became a fighting force in Brittany during the rise of William of Normandy. Three followed him to England in the hopes of wealth and lands and power—oh, and wives, of course!
This short story, “A Night for Her Pleasure,” is loosely based on the theme of the O. Henry story, The Gift of the Magi, and is about two people in love who only want to do or be what the other person wants or needs. Trying to ignore their own desires and dreams, Simon and Elise spend their wedding day learning about each other and pledging that they will be exactly what the other wants in a spouse. The results are not quite what either expects, but when the heart is involved, nothing goes as expected.
I hope you enjoy this sensual story about the path of love, which is linked to The Conqueror’s Lady. Please visit my Web site at www.terribrisbin.com for more information about me and my current and upcoming releases.
Enjoy!
Look for the second in Terri Brisbin’s
Knights of Brittany trilogy
The Mercenary’s Bride
Coming July 2010
Chapter 1
Rennes, Brittany
Spring, 1066
“Look at her,” Simon ordered, nodding in the direction of his—wife. It still felt strange and new to him to call her that—not difficult to understand, because they had only married that morning. “Just look at her.” His blood heated just glancing at her.
Giles, Brice and Soren all turned to look across the crowded hall to where the women sat in various groups during the wedding feast. Elise had made her way over to her mother and her cousins and sat chatting with them, all the while enticing him with her innocent demeanor and simple beauty.
“She seems to be in good spirits, Simon,” Brice offered. “Though I am surprised she is here.”
Simon turned and realized that his friends were looking at the wrong woman. Before he could correct them, Giles interrupted.
“As am I. Alianor looks unseemly happy for a woman who is losing her lover and protector to the clutches of a wife.” Giles held up his cup in a salute to Simon and then to Soren. “Mayhap she will be looking for a new one, Soren. What think you of her beauty and manners?”
Soren opened his mouth to speak, but laughed instead. “I will wait to see how smoothly things go between Simon and his wife. He may be back in Alianor’s bed sooner rather than later and my efforts would all be for naught.”
Simon’s graphic curse stopped further discussion of his mistress and startled some who stood close by their group. Turning his back to them, he lowered his voice.
“I was speaking about Elise, you fools, not Alianor.” Simon drank the rest of his wine in one swallow. “Bastards,” he cursed under his breath.
“Without a doubt, my lord,” Giles said, nodding to Simon. Stepping closer, he smacked Simon on the back and laughed. “We but sought to ease the moment.”
“Am I that obvious then?” Simon could feel the tension growing within him over the coming night…and taking Elise to his bed. He’d wanted her from the moment he watched her dismount in front of his keep, and now that she was his in the eyes of the law, he only wanted her more.
“Just as much as any other groom, Simon,” Brice offered.
Glancing across the room again, he watched as she smiled and nodded at something one of her women said. His body reacted strongly to her beauty and femininity. And the thought of holding her in his arms, touching her skin, tasting her essence and initiating her into the pleasures of the marriage bed this night made him harden yet again.
Then, as he watched his friends appraise her, the heat of jealousy pierced him. The three drew women to them like flies to the sweet, and he had no doubt that with their experience in the ways of wooing women, if any of them turned their real attentions to her, they could show him up for the rough, brutish man he truly was. It was only the hope that he could be different for her, different to her, that allowed him to believe he could make her happy in this marriage.
As though his thoughts had called her name, Elise raised her pale blue eyes and met his gaze. Tossing the hip-length waves of auburn hair over her shoulder, she tilted her head to the side. His throat tightened and his mouth grew dry, but his blood pulsed and his heart raced as the corners of her mouth lifted into the gentle smile he was coming to crave. Soon, she would truly be his. The sound of his friends’ whispers drew him from his lost moment and back to the problem facing him of the coming night.
“She is yours, Simon. Surely you know that even as everyone in this gathering does,” Soren assured him. “What is it that has your ball—trews twisted in a knot?”
The others laughed at their friend’s witticism, but Simon did not. Taking in a breath and letting it out, he turned to face them. In a lowered voice, he finally admitted his deepest fear.
“She is a virgin.”
The others looke
d one to the other and then back at him.
“Of course she is, Simon. Her virtue has been well guarded by her family. Even her dimwitted father knew enough to keep her from his plans,” Giles answered.
Elise’s father had backed the wrong noble in the dispute between the imprisoned Duke Conan and his usurping uncle Count Eudes who tried to wrest control of the region from him. Simon’s family, connected to both sides of the embattled family by blood, had remained out of the fray, but he suspected that Eudes and his progeny would still come back into power in the duchy. With their cousin William making noises of war in their direction and pressing ahead with his plans to claim England as his own, Simon could believe any number of machinations would move those out of favor back into favor and change the balance of power between Breton, Normandy and the other duchies and kingdoms.
“Ladies such as she deserve poetry to woo her and to gain her love. Contracts and marriage will not do it,” Simon began. He might be known as a lover of women, but he’d never wooed one in his life—certainly not one so fair and so feminine. “She is so delicate, and I,” he said, “I am so…so…”
“Worldly?” Soren asked, finishing Simon’s sentence but not with the word of his choosing. “Most women appreciate those years of experience in a man.” Soren laughed loudly and smacked Simon on his back. “Lady Alianor was heard to say just that on many occasions.”
Simon wheeled around and walked away from his friends. Even knowing that too much wine and the festive, somewhat bawdy mood had loosened their tongues, Simon would probably punch one or all of them soon—and that would bring an end he did not want to their marriage feast. It would show Elise the very side of him he anguished over even now. So he grabbed a pitcher of wine from one of the servants and stalked off up the stairs to the top floor, where he could be alone and watch the hall from the balcony.