by Christine Merrill, Michelle Willingham, Louise Allen, Terri Brisbin
Instead of dropping her hand now that the ruse was not necessary, he held it still and kissed it, this time lingering as he pressed his lips on her knuckles and then on the sensitive skin of her wrist. “You are lady here now, Elise, and you answer to no one save me. Remember that.”
His voice, though always deep, dropped in tone to something more as he spoke—a sound that vibrated through her—and his mouth seemed to grow hotter against her skin. She’d taken precious moments reacting to his embrace and kiss when he’d surprised her in the hall—forgetting everything her mother had warned about—but now realized she must be ready for his nearness and his touch. Still not certain of whether her mother’s instructions or the shocking things she’d heard from Petra were the correct way to go in this situation, Elise watched as he turned back to face her without letting go of her hand.
“Come, ladywife. Let us see to our guests together.”
She risked peeking up at him a time or two as they walked back into the hall and were greeted by various guests, mostly those known or vassals to him. He introduced her to many she did not know, and always he held her hand in his. With her father in disgrace, most of her relatives did not risk traveling here to Lord Simon’s lands or facing those who triumphed over them. Soon, she noticed his hand on her back, guiding her around the hall, then remaining there in a reassuring touch.
Elise had just decided she would use the information that Petra shared rather than her mother’s remonstrations, when Lord Simon began a more personal approach, his attentions growing more blatant and more intimate. When they sat at the high table to eat, his leg pressed against hers under the linen cloth that covered the table’s surface. At first, she thought he had just shifted in his chair, so she moved a bit to give him space. But his leg followed hers, his foot slid between hers, and she felt him rub against her.
On purpose! A flittering began in her belly, and suddenly a nervous anticipation filled her.
Certain now that he meant such a contact between them, Elise allowed him to do so, feeling the strong muscles in his thigh against hers. Any doubt of his intentions was answered by the look in his eyes when he turned to feed her a morsel of roasted beef dripping with juices from their shared plate. Lord Simon slid his right hand down from her shoulders, where it had rested, to her waist, tangling it in her hair. Then he lifted the piece of meat to her mouth, rubbing it first against her lips.
Elise fought a battle within herself while she accepted the food offered by her husband, indeed even as others at the table engaged them in conversation. When Petra caught her eye from one of the lower tables and nodded at her, she knew she must seize her chance to be more like the woman she knew her husband wanted. Sliding her hand down onto her lap, Elise held her breath, then moved it slowly over onto Lord Simon’s thigh.
If he lived to reach one hundred years, Simon would never have expected such an action from Elise than the one she’d just taken. So light that he nearly missed it at first, her hand slid onto his leg and rested there—only inches from that part of him that reacted immediately. She moved it slightly along his thigh towards his knee and then back upwards again.
His blood pounded through his body, and blistering heat followed from her gentle caress. Torn between the temptation to throw her to the floor and claim her as his own in the way his body now demanded and the need to protect her and to be gentle with so delicate a lady, he tried to swallow the small bite of meat he’d taken just as she’d touched him. It remained stuck there in his throat, and he fought the urge to choke on it, for surely that would force Elise’s hand from his leg and end the sweet torture and all the urges that her touch caused him. Finally, Simon was able to wash the food down with a mouthful of ale. Turning the cup so that her mouth would rest on the same spot his had, he offered Elise a drink.
He would have sworn that she’d placed her lips on him; the reaction to seeing her pink lips touch the same spot where his had been surged through him and he pulled together every iota of self-control he could find within himself to keep from placing her hand on the other part of him that surged as well. Simon attempted to look casual in his posture, trying not to let anyone see that her hand rested on him, trying not to let his raging desire loose on his innocent wife. A glance from Giles told him that his struggles were witnessed—and with a certain amount of sympathy, from the nod his friend made in his direction.
How was he to last until nightfall? How could he sit at her side, touch her, even hold her close, and not simply drag her off to their chambers and make her his? A man only had so much control and his was sorely tested even now, now with her soft hand lying on his hard leg near his harder cock. How? Mayhap if he focused his thoughts on her innocence? Mayhap if he made himself think on the fact that she came to him a sheltered virgin, regardless that the temptress would discover his true nature if she slipped her hand only an inch or two farther? As her hand did move—ever so slightly, but move indeed—he held his breath and tried to remember all of his good resolve. But the wide-eyed expression she gifted him with when he did look at her—a mix of siren and innocent at once—undid him and nearly unmanned him in an instant.
Elise felt Lord Simon’s surprise when she boldly placed her hand on his leg and she thought he would object to so forward a gesture, but he did not. Now, meeting his gaze as he lifted the cup to her mouth, she saw a hunger there that any woman would recognize. The centers of his green eyes darkened, making the lighter ring on the edges of the color appear brighter and revealing that his reaction was much stronger than a simple touch should cause. His breathing sounded shallow and irregular as he gazed into her eyes, and she discovered she had trouble breathing too. As he tilted the cup, she felt his hand move from her waist to the back of her head, steadying her as she drank deeply of the hearty wedding ale.
A tiny drop escaped as she swallowed, and when she would have dabbed at it with her napkin to keep it from dripping, his mouth was there, open and hot, licking up the ale and then kissing her lips as though to share its taste. His hand, still behind her head, entwined itself in the loosened locks of her hair, something he seemed to like for he’d done it before. Then he pulled her closer and plundered her mouth.
Elise’s body grew warm, her breasts swelled as they rubbed against her gown. First she did as her mother had ordered—opening her mouth wider to let him have his way. Then thinking on Petra’s words, she let out a soft moan, meant only for his ears and then, even more boldly, she moved her hand, the one still hidden by the table’s cloth, along the hard muscles of his leg once more. Not certain what his reaction would be, Elise felt only a moment’s hesitation before he thrust his tongue farther into her mouth and tasted her more deeply.
Heat pierced her body, sending waves of pleasure from the places he touched to every place within her. Even between her legs began to pulse with that heat and she grew damp there and she shifted at the feeling of it. Whether it was moments or minutes, she knew not, but finally the sound of loud, raucous laughter conquered the haze of passion that surrounded them.
Oh, holy saints, they’d kissed so in front of all the wedding guests! She tried to draw back, but his hand held her mouth firmly against his, and Lord Simon showed no sign of allowing the cheering and bawdy calls to interrupt his pleasure. Elise lifted her hand from his leg and withdrew it, laying it against his chest then and trying to break the kiss. Finally, he opened his eyes and released her from both the kiss and his grasp, but not before gazing at her with an inscrutable expression. She could not tell if he was pleased or angered by her reactions to him.
Her heart pounded within her chest; she felt as though she could not draw a breath in deeply enough. Her lips swelled from his attentions, as did her breasts in a similar but different way, and she fought the urge to touch both her mouth and the tight buds that her nipples had become. Looking about for something to wet her now-dry mouth, she reached for the goblet he’d used before.
“Here, ladywife,” he whispered, as he held the goblet out for a se
rvant to fill and then handed it to her.
When he did not bring it to her mouth and when the fire left his green eyes, she worried that he was not pleased at all with her. Drinking some and then handing it back to him, she glanced around the room at their guests—the ones who had witnessed their public display. Other than her mother, with a grim expression on her face, most of their guests seemed to approve of their public kiss. Her mother, already rising from her chair, clearly did not.
Chapter 4
Simon knew he must gentle his touch and his kisses, but each time Elise moved closer or touched him—and that moment when a throaty moan escaped her during their kiss—he was goaded on. And his wayward arousal urged him forward as well, towards the rewards of this night. She seemed accepting of his kiss, so Giles’s plan to accustom her step by step must be working. Now, as he watched her mother approach their table, he knew he must not allow the woman to interfere in his methods. Standing, he nodded to the musicians in the alcove to begin.
“Dance with me, my lady?”
Without waiting for her consent, Simon reached for Elise’s hand and guided her to her feet. He kept her hand in his as they walked around the table to the place cleared for dancing, passing by her mother with only a nod. She might gainsay her daughter, but she would never think to do so to him. Many other guests rushed to join them, and soon they were moving through the steps of a lively dance.
Simon shamelessly held Elise closer than the dance dictated, taking advantage of his position as lord and husband to allow his hands to remain at her waist as they moved through the steps. During the portion of the dance that called for him to lift his partner and swing her around to his other side, he purposely let his hands slide up until he could feel the fullness of her breasts resting on them.
Though he heard the rushed intake of her breath at such an intimate touch, she did nothing to dissuade him from his actions. Indeed, after that first momentary hitch in her breath, he thought she may have leaned in closer and even placed herself more fully in his grasp. In spite of his own body’s continuing arousal at her nearness, Simon held her aloft for the last maneuver and then let her body slide down his at a slower pace than the dance called for, enjoying the feel of her breasts against his chest and her hips and legs rubbing down his.
Unable and unwilling to resist such an opportunity, he met her mouth as he lowered her, and kissed her relentlessly until her feet finally touched the floor. Even then, he did not release her from his embrace, turning his head and kissing her once more. Simon could not help noticing that she looked both breathless and dazed as the music came to an end. It was how he felt, so he was glad she was as affected as he.
When she murmured a request for a few moments of privacy, he let go of her and watched as she walked away, towards the solar. Her cousin Petronilla followed behind, so Simon turned back to the table and sought his chair…and a reviving drink. It did not surprise him when his friends, ignoring all protocol and outraged glances, sat down around him, separating him from the others at table.
“’Twould seem Giles had the right of it, then?” asked Brice.
“Is she settling under your touch, Simon?” Soren asked. “Like your horse?”
Though Soren and Brice laughed then, raised their cups to him and drank deeply at the jest, Giles simply shook, then hung his head.
“I did not mean to tell them, Simon.”
“It matters not now,” he answered, waving their concerns off. He did not wish to discuss this personal matter with anyone right now, for he needed a few minutes to let his body and his lust cool.
“Did not the dance and her ease in your embrace erase your worries? You did not tumble over her and step on her feet. She seemed accepting of your affections. Surely good signs for the rest of it?” Soren asked.
“Truly, Simon, I do not understand why you worry so,” Brice said as he glared at an approaching servant, warning him away. “Does not your marriage save her family and give her brother expectations lost by their father? Do you not honor her by making arrangements for her mother and for her own dower property?”
Giles had been silently watching the exchange, but had not offered a comment of his own since the first. Simon looked at him, eyebrows raised, waiting, for he knew one would come.
“The only problem I see for you is that night’s fall is still three hours or so away. I suspect if you continue to ‘settle her to your touch’, you will end up between her legs against a wall in some darkened alcove or corner.”
“Giles…” Simon warned with a growl. It was too damned close to the truth of it to speak of. “Enough.”
“Ah! Here comes the lady now,” Soren said, loud enough to interrupt any further discussion of her. He stood, as did Brice and Giles, stepping away from the table and allowing Elise to sit next to her husband.
“Are you well?” Simon asked, sliding his hand once more to her back, and then resting it lower. Other than a lovely blush, she appeared just so, for he was trying to notice her comfort this day.
“I am, my lord,” Elise said, feeling the light pressure of his hand on her back. As he slipped his fingers beneath her hair, they tickled her neck and sent tiny ripples down her spine. Just as in the dance, her body became a thing of its own, reacting and responding when her mind and her thoughts did not do so quickly enough.
Everything he did now seemed to involve touching her, she realized as he let his hand remain on her back, though he slid it down to rest beneath the jeweled belt she wore. Having anyone touch her, let alone having a man do so, was not something she was familiar with, and his touch aroused some stirring with her. From the gleam in his gaze when she met it, she thought it might be done apurpose.
She would like to ask him about it, but the presence of his men, his Bastard Knights, deterred her. Elise knew of them—Petra has spoken of little else on their arrival here—but these three men were of illegitimate birth and fostered against custom by the old lord, then befriended by the new one. Such men as these were not men she would ever deign to speak to in public, or even out of view, but it was clear to her and everyone in attendance that they held some special place here in Lord Simon’s household and presence. As though knowing the subject of her thoughts, Lord Simon spoke of them.
“Lady, though ’tis not the usual manner of things, I wish to make these three known to you. Giles Fitzhenry—” Lord Simon pointed to the farthest man who bowed to her “—Brice Fitzwilliam there and Soren Fitzrobert here—” he slapped the nearest one “—are all sworn in my service and now in yours.”
Surprised at how polite they were, Elise looked from one to the next as they bowed to her. Truly, from the rumors and stories she’d heard, she half expected them to leer openly at her or behave somewhat rudely. Instead, she could not miss their open affection and loyalty towards her husband and their apparent acceptance of her. Noticing their appearances now, their blatant manly appeal, she wondered how many women living or visiting this keep had not shared their beds at one time or another. These four were the kind of men that women whispered about and dreamed about and prayed for in their most secret conversations and moments.
They could, and probably did, have nearly any woman they chose in their beds for pleasures of the flesh and…
And she was now married to one of them!
Clearing her throat, she looked from one man to the next, taking note that the four were as different as any could be in appearance, but warriors one and all, with tall, muscular bodies, well able to do battle with any number of fierce opponents and well practiced from the look of them. Their coloring, with Simon’s dark brown hair and green eyes, Giles’s paler hair and blue eyes, Brice’s blond hair and brown ones, and the giant called Soren had black hair and silver-gray eyes, this in spite of his name that usually spoke of reddish coloring, proclaimed their differences. But had she not known them, the three of them, to be by-blows and not of noble birth, she would have assumed by their height and bearing and manners to be so.
Elis
e heard a familiar cough and glanced over to where her mother sat. Her disapproving stare told her what was expected of a noble-born woman, and that was to shun such men as these. The expression in Lord Simon’s eyes said otherwise. These men were important to him; he called them friends as well as vassals sworn to him. Though not certain of what their future dealings would be, Elise decided she must honor her husband’s desires in this, for clearly if this was not important to him, he would never have introduced them so.
“Sirs,” she said with a smile, “I am honored by your service and friendship to my lord husband and that you extend that to me now. Pray—” she held out her hand and motioned to the empty seats near them “—sit and be welcome at Lord Simon’s table.”
It was bold, something far bolder than even her intimate touch earlier, for this was something public, something witnessed by one and all at the feast, something that would set forth a practice for their lives together. Welcoming those who should, by birth, be seated at far lower tables than the lord’s opened her to gossip and possible scorn, unless her husband supported such a gesture. If she’d thought for a moment that he would not, she was proven wrong quickly.
His friends, clearly uncertain whether to accept her invitation or to leave the dais as they should, waited for Lord Simon’s sign. Simon rose, releasing her from his loose embrace, and smiled at the men.
“You heard my ladywife’s words, join us at table,” he said, raising his voice loud enough so that everyone in the hall heard.
Lord Simon took his seat once more, this time not resting his hand on her back. Though disappointed somehow at this lack, she did not have more than a moment or two to feel that, for Lord Simon made up for it quickly by placing his arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. Before she could react, he again brought his mouth to hers and kissed her…and then once more. Though quick kisses, they promised much more, later in private. And when she thought he would release her, instead he turned and whispered in her ear so that none would hear.