Shadow of the Swan

by Judith Sterling

  She’d never felt so sensitive, so aroused. Words failed her.

  Deeply, he inhaled. “I’ve found my heaven. Right here and now. Lie down, Constance.”

  “On your tunic?”

  “On anything you desire.”

  Her heart fluttered. “The tunic will do.”

  She lay down on her back, and he joined her on the ground. His manly scent mingled with the smell of bluebells.

  Lingeringly, he kissed her mouth. The valley between her breasts. The tender flesh just below her navel. Then he gripped her knees and spread them.

  Dominy’s lecherous face popped into her mind. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head.

  “Constance? What is it?”

  She opened her eyes to a compassionate gaze, so different from the one that had invaded her thoughts. “I saw his face again.”

  Robert stroked her cheek. “Dearheart, I am not he.”

  “I know.”

  “Hear me now. As much as I want you…and God’s bones, I want you! I’ll stop if you ask it of me. You’ve had an eventful day, and—”

  “No. Nothing shall come between us. Not this time.”

  He smiled, and his dimples tugged at her heart. “I applaud your mettle. Keep in mind, this is our moment. Yours and mine alone. We’re creating it together.”

  “Aye. And I want to know what the love between a man and a woman is supposed to be. Pray, continue.”

  He gave her a searching look. “If you’re certain…”

  She nodded and touched his shoulder. “I’m yours, Robert.”

  His eyes glistened with gratitude. “I couldn’t ask for more.” He kissed each of her knees, spread them farther apart, and positioned himself between them.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Easy, Constance. I want to kiss your thighs.” Bending lower, he kissed each in turn. “And something else.” With the gentlest touch, his fingers combed the hair on her sex and parted it. Then his tongue traced her nether lips.

  She gasped.

  He chuckled. “Ticklish?”

  “Aye. I see what you meant now. My navel cannot compete.”

  “Well, perhaps this can.” His tongue flicked the bud of her desire.

  Again, she gasped, louder this time.

  His breath was hot between her legs. “As I expected.” Returning to the tiny bud, his tongue pressed against it, circled it, wiggled it back and forth.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe. His tongue was everything.

  Delicate pressure. Swirling sensation. Tension mounting until she cried out on a burst of incredible pleasure.

  Robert’s moan held satisfaction and yearning. “Now you know how I felt when you stroked me.”

  She sighed. “I never imagined such a feeling.”

  “Hold that thought.” He lowered his head.

  His tongue returned to her sensitive flesh. It slipped inside her, again and again, then slid upward toward the engorged nubbin.

  A moan escaped her lips. “There’s more?”

  “So much more.” His insistent tongue began anew.

  Energy and excitement coiled within her, and her arousal reached a new level. “Oh…my…Robert…” Her hands raked his hair and held it tight.

  His tongue continued to work its magic, until his finger took over. He raised himself up and over her so his breath, mingled with her own scent, warmed her face.

  Something hot and hard nudged her nether lips but went no farther. It had to be his manhood. An instant of doubt seized her, but the bud of her passion reclaimed her focus. His finger moved faster. The pleasure rose ever higher. She clung to his back. As if from far away, she heard herself whimper.

  A shattering release engulfed her, and she cried out again. All at once, his full length drove into her. She gasped.

  ****

  Robert moaned as his senses soared. Long had he waited for this moment.

  Heat. Moisture. Flesh clasping him so tightly he might die of pleasure.

  Her gasp arrested him, and he gazed into her wide eyes. “Are you all right?”

  She blinked. “I’m…you fill me so completely…”

  “But are you hurt?”

  Again, she blinked. Then her beautiful lips curled into a smile. “No.” The surprise, the sheer relief in her voice was worth the wait.

  Her rounded mouth beseeched him, and he kissed it with all the joy and need that warred within him. “Then hold on.”

  Slowly, savoring every second, he thrust into her, over and over again. “Wrap your legs around me.”

  Her thighs squeezed him. “Like this?”

  “Aye, my sweet. Now surrender to the rhythm.” He drove deeper, faster.

  “Oh! That feels…quite…wonderful.”

  He quickened his pace further. The rhythm took hold, pushed him higher and higher. His heart hammered in his chest. Steady on. Let her pleasure peak one…more…time.

  Her hips thrashed. Her head tossed from side to side. “I think…oh…Rob—ah!”

  She arched upward. Her spasms squeezed his shaft again and again. With a growl, he plunged into her once, twice, thrice…

  Extreme pleasure erupted and shot through him as his seed flooded her core. Then the haze of passion spent washed over him. Withdrawing from her sheath, he lay down next to her. Crushed bluebells tickled his side.

  He lifted her hand and kissed it. “Are you well?”

  “Never more so.”

  “You don’t regret our coupling?”

  She turned her head toward him. “How could I? I found such delight in it. Is that wrong of me?”

  His lips brushed her knuckles. “Not at all. Shared pleasure is one of the boons of marriage.”

  Retrieving her hand, she rolled on her side to face him. “Do you recall our first night here, when I asked about your appetites?”

  “Vividly.”

  “I understand them better now.”

  His stomach fluttered. “Do you?”

  “Aye. Three times better.” She grinned, and her gaze held a glint of knowing he’d not seen before.

  His manhood stirred. So soon! This woman shall be the death of me. If that be true, then come, sweet death, and welcome!

  “Robert, you sacrificed a lot when you agreed to a spiritual marriage. I had no idea what I was missing, but you did. And still, you married me. Why?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve wondered that myself. I simply felt compelled to be with you and help you however I could.”

  She placed her delicate hand over his heart. “I’ve never felt so close to another soul.”

  “You’re quite sure I have one?”

  “I have no doubt.”

  What a comfort it must be to have no doubt on the matter. He gathered her into his arms. “Are you tired, my sweet?”

  “A little. But I could never tire of this.”

  “Of what exactly?”

  “Lying in your arms. I feel so safe.”

  Resolve surged within him. “I shall endeavor to keep you safe, and to please you, every day hereafter.”

  She looked up and traced his lips with her fingers. “This mouth pleased me, more than I imagined was possible.”

  He hardened more every second. “Oh? You imagined possibilities?”

  “On occasion.”

  “I’ll admit, I imagined them each time I saw you.”

  “That’s a lot of imagining!”

  “Well, you know me.” He caught one of her fingers between his teeth and bit gently.

  “Ooh! I guess you’re hungry?”

  He gave her a wolfish grin. “For more than food. Though I’ll have you know, I ate but three bites at supper.”

  Her face was all astonishment. “Three bites? You? How is that possible?”

  “I guess you’re more important to me than food.” He chuckled. “And that’s saying something!”

  “Truly!” She sat up, and her breasts jiggled. Then she looked around. “Fog. When did that happ
en?”

  Sitting up, he scanned the misty woods. “When we were otherwise engaged, apparently.” He stood and offered her his hand.

  She glanced at his swollen manhood and hesitated. “What? Again?”

  “I’m afraid so. The question is, are you afraid?”

  “Not anymore.” She took his hand.

  Smiling, he helped her up. “Come.”

  “Whither?”

  “The pond.”

  She nodded. “A good idea. I need to wash off.”

  Hand in hand, they strolled out of the woods. The immediate shoreline was still visible, but the dusk and fog obscured all else.

  “Ouch!” She broke away, spun around, and leaned over. “What did I step on?”

  He backed toward the pond to get a better view of her. She was a feast for the eyes.

  Her long legs. The beckoning curves of her buttocks. Her glorious sex peeking out at him.

  She scooped something off the ground. “’Twas only a rock.” Straightening, she threw it aside and turned back to him.

  His manhood throbbed as he drank in her loveliness. “Come to me, Constance.”

  Her gaze locked with his, she started forward. Abruptly, she stopped. “This was my vision.”

  “Vision?” What new strangeness is this?

  “I stared into the water—over by the bridge—and saw this moment. The fog on the water. You, naked. And you spoke the same words. ‘Come to me, Constance.’ ”

  “I did?”

  “You most certainly did. Somehow, this pond aligned me with my future self, so I could see this very instant.”

  He frowned. Many in this northern land claimed visions, or something like them. Meg. Emma. Wulfstan. And now a near nun?

  Once again, the North required him to suspend his disbelief. But how could he not? Druid’s Head was his home. Constance was his wife, in mind and body now. He refused to jeopardize all they’d gained.

  “Robert? Do not doubt me. There is magic afoot. I know it.”

  He gave her a nod. “Perhaps there is. But I care only for your magic.”

  She started forward again. “Mine?”

  “Make that, ours.”

  He grabbed her hand and guided her into the pond until the cool water swallowed his waist. At the same time, they turned to one another.

  Her breasts rested a mere inch above the water. “The fog grows thicker. We might be the only two people in the world.”

  “That sounds perfect.” He reached for her breasts and started to massage them.

  “M-m,” she hummed. “May I touch your chest, too?”

  “You may touch whatever you want.”

  Her hands pressed against him. “You’re so firm.”

  “And you know what else is firm.” He tweaked her nipples.

  She kissed his chest. “Indeed.” One of her hands slipped beneath the water and closed around that part which needed her most. She gave it a tug, then slid both hands around to his buttocks and squeezed. “M-m. Also firm.” Gently, her teeth clamped around his left nipple, and her tongue flicked it again and again.

  He gasped. “You learn fast, my sweet.” His hand stole underwater, down the silken skin of her belly to the floating curls beneath it. And I have much more to teach you. His finger found the tiny jewel of her womanhood, and with the lightest touch, he began to tease it.

  She moaned and dropped her head against his chest. “Aye. That feels so good.”

  “Does it?” He picked up the pace, then slowed it back down. “Which do you prefer? Fast or slow?”

  She raised her head to look at him. Her desire fairly glowed in her eyes. “I don’t know. Both are exquisite.”

  “Well, let’s try again. Slow, like this.”

  “Ah. A sweet sensation.”

  “Or fast, like this.”

  “I…keep on, just as you are.”

  He grinned. “How about a little more pressure. Perhaps this much.”

  “Oh! Aye, Robert.” Her breaths came louder, sharper. “Please!”

  He knew what she wanted, and he gave it to her. With a high-pitched cry, she clutched his biceps.

  He could wait no longer. Gripping her legs, he lifted her and thrust himself into her satin sheath.

  She gasped. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

  “Aye,” he rasped. “That’s it, my beautiful swan. Hold tight…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The song of morning, of bird chirps and streaming sunlight, coaxed Constance out of sleep. With eyes still closed, she stretched her limbs in bed and yawned.

  The heavenly feather mattress. The pleasure of flexing her muscles. A slight soreness between her legs.

  Robert!

  Her eyes shot open, and she glanced toward his side of the bed. ’Twas empty.

  She pushed herself into a sitting position and scanned the chamber. “Robert?”

  No answer, unless the birds outside the gaping window counted. Perhaps he went to the garderobe. Her full bladder insisted she go too, whether her husband was there or not.

  She rolled out of bed and shuffled to the center of the chamber. Her gaze dropped to the crumpled garments on the floor, and she smiled. In haste, she and Robert had ditched their clothes the instant they returned from Woden’s Pond last night. They’d made love again before falling asleep in each other’s arms. Surrounded by his warmth, strength, and manly scent, she’d glided into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  His breeches still lay on the ground, which meant he’d dressed in a fresh pair. She hurried to one of the chests along the wall, threw open the lid, and plucked a clean chemise from its contents. Slipping into the garment, she headed for the door.

  After a quick—and solitary—visit to the garderobe, she returned to the bedchamber.

  Where are you, Robert? She stared at the canopied bed. If only he were in it.

  Her stomach trembled with a flurry of excitement, and memories of a perfect night took hold. His combat-chiseled body poised above her. His stunning, gray eyes, probing the depths of her soul even as his manhood probed her secret core. His tender expression. His dimples. The way his hair brushed over her face as he moved on top of her. No man could’ve been more affectionate. More giving. More skillful at making her…

  She fanned herself as heat flooded her body. Her womanhood pulsated. What new pleasures will tonight bring?

  “Good morrow, my lady.”

  Constance started and whirled around. “Alice. Good morrow.”

  The handmaiden gave her a quizzical half-smile. “You look flushed. Are you well?”

  “Perfectly well.” And perfectly aroused by a mere memory! Does she know? Will everyone know? Calm. I must be calm. She took a deep breath, then released it. “Have you seen Sir Robert?”

  “I haven’t.”

  She glanced at the swan tapestry, then frowned. The image held two swans. Two!

  In disbelief, she stared. But…no. There was only one before. How in the name of Heaven—

  “My lady, a messenger just arrived.”

  Constance turned back to her. “A messenger?”

  Alice held out a piece of folded parchment. “He brought this missive from Father Leof. I was to give it to your ladyship at once.”

  “Father Leof? It must be important.” She seized the letter and read it.

  Nelda’s labor has begun. She’s calling for you. Come now to the church.

  “Alice, help me dress!”

  “My lady? What has happened?”

  “Nelda is in labor. I must go to her. Where is Meg?”

  With puckered brow, Alice bit her lip. “I’m not certain. I think she went for a walk.”

  “When next you see her, tell her whither I’ve gone. She’ll be of more help to Nelda than I. And tell Sir Robert, though I know not where he is. Perhaps Guy does. Anyway, I’m needed. Make haste!”

  Haste was made, by Alice and an obliging horse. Constance reached the church without delay. She leapt off her mount, secured it to
the hitching post, and rushed to the south entrance.

  God, ease Nelda’s pain, and help me to calm her fears. Bless this birth, whether it brings one babe or two.

  She swung open the door and dashed inside. All was quiet.

  She looked around. “Father Leof? Nelda?” Frowning, she strode toward the altar.

  Behind her, the door squeaked, then shut with a clunk.

  “They aren’t here.”

  She froze. No! It cannot be! But her skin—her very spine—prickled and crawled, quashing her denial. Slowly, she turned.

  Dominy blocked the door. Fiendish delight blazed in his eyes. “Miss me?”

  ****

  Robert crossed back over the bridge and stepped onto the welcoming cushion of ground that curved around to the front of Woden’s Pond. Birds tweeted. The breeze ruffled his hair, as well as the bluebells in his hand. His first impulse upon waking was to surprise Constance with her favorite flowers. So he’d snuck out of bed, dressed in silence, and hastened to the Long Wood. Now he held the perfect bouquet: not too big; not too small.

  He raised it to his nose and inhaled the sweet fragrance. For the rest of his life, the scent would remind him of the blissful night when his bride became his wife.

  His memory stirred. Her lovely face. Her supple flesh. The smell of her. The song of her sighs. The sweet surrender in her eyes as her arms, legs, and feminine passage locked around him. Her first shock of pleasure. Her second…third…fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh…

  He moaned. Would he ever get enough of her? No. Who could tire of paradise?

  Not his manhood, evidently. It swelled even now. With a sigh, he strolled on toward the double stand of oaks. A flicker of movement amid them captured his gaze.

  He hastened forward. “Meg!”

  She waved as he approached. “Good morrow to you. I couldn’t stay inside on such a beautiful day.”

  “But what brings you hither?”

  Her smile was wistful. “Memories.”

  “Of?”

  “You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but I’ve known love.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Thank you, Robert. And while we’re on the subject…” She glanced at his bouquet. “I take it you solved your problem.”

  He grinned. “I did.” Oh, how I did! Again and again and—

  “I knew you would.”