“Aye, let’s hurry and say our vows,” she said. “Afterward – I want to stay in bed with you and lock ourselves in this room without leaving for a week.”
He chuckled and kissed her atop the head. “One day at a time my little vixen. One day at a time.”
Chapter 20
Everything happened quickly and, within the next hour, Winter found herself married to Martin. They were wed in Martin’s private garden under the little pavilion at the base of the small lake.
Nairnie stood at the bottom of the pavilion stairs at one side and Rock stood across from her. There were about a dozen nobles present as witnesses. The servants watched from outside the garden gate.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” said Father George, closing his little black book.
Winter held a bouquet of greens and autumn flowers that Nairnie had picked for her. The flowers shook in her grasp since she felt so nervous. It was a sunny day, but the blustery winds picked up, chilling her to the bone since she wasn’t wearing a cape.
Martin had let her pick one of the jeweled rings from his trove of treasures in the chest with the heart lock and lovers on it. She’d chosen a silver ring with etchings that reminded her of her sword-making. It had a pear-shaped ruby embedded into it that glittered in the sun.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest told them.
“With pleasure.” Martin lifted Winter’s chin and bent toward her. Her eyes closed as their lips touched and warmed her cold body. She was married now. It had happened so fast. She only wished there had been time to invite her family to this special occasion.
“Everyone to the great hall for a feast!” called out Martin.
Rock whooped in joy, grabbing Nairnie and turning her in a full circle.
“Stop it, ye fool, I’m too old for this,” Nairnie scolded him.
“Nairnie, catch,” said Winter, throwing the bouquet to her. Nairnie’s hands lifted in reaction and she caught the flowers.
“That means you’ll be the next one to marry,” Winter told her with a wink.
“I’ve never been married and dinna plan on takin’ a husband at this late stage in life,” grumbled the old woman.
“You never know what might happen,” Martin told her. “After all, who would have thought that I’d be married to Lady Winter?”
“Can we eat now?” asked Rock, putting his hand on his stomach. “Grumbling noises are coming from me that I can’t control.”
“Yes, we’ll eat and dance and then I’m going to spend the rest of the evening locked in my chamber with my new wife,” Martin announced.
“Hrmph,” said Nairnie. “With the way ye two like to go at it, ye’ll have her bairned before mornin’.”
“It’s all right, Nairnie,” Winter said, staring up at Martin with a smile on her face. “I wouldn’t object to having babies right away. And I promise you, Martin, I will be a good mother to our children.”
“I do not doubt that,” said Martin, sweeping her off her feet and into his arms.
She cried out in surprise, hanging on to him tightly. “I didn’t expect that.”
“I’m full of surprises,” he said, carrying her down the stairs and kissing her passionately before putting her back on the ground. “But if we don’t stop talking about children and the bedchamber, I’m going to want to skip the meal and take you straight to my room.”
* * *
Martin couldn’t take his eyes off of Winter during the meal. He was married now and it felt right. Even though he’d been single and with many women during his life, none of them had made him feel the way Winter did.
Giddy as a milkmaid and as happy as a court jester, he was anticipating not only making love with Winter again but spending the rest of his life with her as well. He was sure their children would be beautiful like her, yet inherit her fearlessness as well.
“What are you looking at?” asked Winter, helping herself to another spoonful of seafood stew that consisted of herring, eel, cod, and many spices in a rich, brown gravy. They also dined on roasted peacock with chestnut stuffing, fresh white bread, and an array of stewed vegetables.
“I’m looking at the wife of the luckiest man in England,” he said, meaning every word of it.
“That’s kind of you to say that, but we’ve only been married a few hours.” She took a sip of white wine. “Wait for a few days or a sennight and see if you still feel the same way.”
“Why would you say that to me?” he asked, feeling sensitive that she didn’t pay back the compliment.
“I suppose I’m just afraid to feel too happy.”
“You? Afraid?” he asked and chuckled. “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
“My parents split up when I was just a child,” she told him. “I know that yours are no longer together either. Doesn’t that concern you? I don’t want anything to happen to us.”
“Do your parents see each other now?” he asked.
“Yes. They are back together again and very happy.”
“Martin’s mother is coming back soon as well,” said Lambert, overhearing their conversation. He held up his goblet of wine. “Let us all toast to her return.”
“Father, Mother is not coming back,” Martin mumbled under his breath, hoping his father wouldn’t cause a scene.
“Martin, drink to her return,” said Lambert. “Or do you not care to welcome her home?”
“Fine, Father.” Martin lifted up the goblet in a toast, and then took a drink of wine. “Now, please excuse me, as I am going to dance with my new wife.”
He led Winter out to the middle of the great hall, not waiting for the servants to clear away the tables.
“What happened with your father to make your mother leave?” asked Winter. “Did your father really kill your brother, like Lady Victoria mentioned? And why is your father so certain your mother is going to return?”
“I’ll not have my wedding night spoiled with talk of things that upset me,” Martin told her. He lifted a finger in the air and nodded to the musicians in the gallery above their heads. The music started. Without waiting any longer, Martin pulled her into his arms and escorted her across the floor.
“Martin, slow down,” she told him, laughing. “I’m not used to dancing around people and tables. Plus, I’ve had too much wine and it is making me dizzy.”
“Then I suggest we lay down, my lady.” He swept her off her feet and carried her to the entrance of the great hall. Everyone clapped and shouted. Then a few of his knights got up and followed them.
“Going to consummate the marriage, my lord?” asked one of his men. It was customary for the consummation to be witnessed, but he would have none of that tonight. He wanted his lovemaking with Winter to be for his eyes alone.
“Go back to the great hall, all of you,” he told them. “I don’t want to be bothered for the rest of the night.”
“Aye, my lord,” they answered, not at all sounding happy about it.
Martin kissed Winter as he walked, holding her protectively in his arms. When they got to the bedchamber, he kicked open the door, never putting her down at all.
“I can walk, Martin,” Winter told him. “You don’t have to carry me everywhere.”
“Whatever you say, my lady.” He put her on her feet and closed and locked the door.
Winter lifted an eyebrow and cocked her head. “You really don’t want to be disturbed, do you?”
“Well . . . do you?”
“Only by you.” She reached up, throwing her arms around Martin’s neck, surprising him with the vigorous way she kissed him, letting her tongue enter his mouth. It excited him, only bringing back memories of what a wildcat she was in bed. He lifted her in his arms again, guiding her legs around his waist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I can’t wait until we get to the bed.” He backed her up against the wall, kissing her, holding her in the provocative position with her legs spread around his waist. With his hands on her bott
om end, he squeezed.
“Mmmm,” she mumbled against his lips, causing a buzzing sensation to run through him. Then she giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“I’m not sure about consummating our marriage up against the wall. It doesn’t seem right.”
“Then we’ll go to the bed,” he told her, carrying her over to the pallet atop the raised dais and lowering her gently to the ground. He hunkered down, watching her expression as he slid his hands slowly up her legs under her gown.
“Now what are you doing?” she asked in a breathy whisper.
“That,” he said, nodding to the wall of an image of a man bent down on one knee with his head between the woman’s thighs.
“Oh,” she said. “But we’ve already tried that.”
“Then take your pick.” He stood up, motioning with his hand to the wall. “I’m willing to do any of them or all of them. It is your choice, my lady.”
She turned around and studied the wall, then pointed to two lovers. “I want to try that one,” she told him.
“My pleasure,” he said, swooping her gown over her head in one motion, followed by her shift. Then he untied her undergarments, sliding them down, letting them drop to the ground at her feet along with her hose. “Turn around,” he told her, unfastening his weapon belt and undressing as fast as possible. She had him so hard right now that every moment he spent not touching her was driving him mad.
“Like this?” she looked back over her shoulder. He reached up and unpinned her hair, letting it fall loosely around her shoulders. Taking a fistful of her hair to his face, he inhaled her wonderful flowery scent. Then he lifted her hair and kissed her neck. She moaned and her head fell to the side with her eyes closed.
“Not like that,” he mumbled into her ear. “Like this.” With the front of his body pressed up against her back, his arms encircled her waist. He slowly bent her forward until her elbows hit the bed.
Winter’s heart raced as she waited to experience yet another way to make love. Bent over against the bed, she felt his hands slip from her waist up around her breasts, teasing her, fondling her, pulling lightly at her already taut nipples. His foot gently pushed her feet apart, giving him access between her thighs.
She cried out in pleasant surprise when he licked her back, letting his hands trail down to her buttocks. His long fingers slipped around to the juncture of her thighs making her inhale deeply.
“I want to be sure you are ready before we try the actual act.”
He played with her womanly folds, bringing her to life. With her liquid passion guiding their actions, she felt his hardened length pressed against her back.
“Just lean over a little more,” he whispered, guiding her to the proper position. Then he slipped his length into her, making her gasp once again.
“This is how the animals do it,” he said. “The male mounts the female from behind, planting her with his seed.”
He pulled out slowly and then the thrusts quickened. Bent over, she raised her head to see those damned erotic paintings on the wall again. She felt naughty making love this way and a little like a whore. Still, always wanting to experience new things, she found herself enjoying it. Then, just when she thought he was going to climax, he pulled out entirely, leaving her feeling vacant and abandoned.
“Martin, what’s wrong?” she asked over her shoulder. “Why did you stop?”
“I don’t feel this is pleasurable enough for you.” In one motion he turned her around and laid her back on his bed.
“I enjoyed it,” she told him, feeling very excited. “It was pleasurable, I assure you.”
“I want to make love to you, Winter, not just couple with you.” He lay down next to her and leaned on one elbow, cupping her cheek. “Now that you are my wife, things will be different.”
“Different? How?” She had no idea what he meant.
“I want you to know that I love you – not just lust you.”
“I know that,” she said, but he stopped her from talking, holding his finger to her lips to silence her.
“Shhhh,” he whispered. “I want to show you what I mean, not just tell you.” At those words, he reached out and caressed her, and kissed her ever so gently. “I want to show you another way to make love. But this one is slow and lengthy and might take all night.”
“All night?” she asked in surprise. “Why would it take that long?”
“Because I want to get to know every inch of you from the top of your head to the tip of your toes.” He tapped her head and let his finger trail down her body, over her breasts, past her navel, and to her groin. His touch was erotic and made her squirm in anticipation of what was next to come.
“What does that mean?” she asked with a giggle.
“I have a special scented oil I bought from a sheik.” He rolled over and took something from the drawer of the bedside table. A beeswax candle burned in a holder next to the bed filling the room with the aroma of cinnamon. He sat up and opened the bottle, spilling some of the oil onto his open palm. Then he put the bottle on the table and rubbed his hands together briskly.
“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.
“This is an oil that is used to scent and stimulate a woman’s body, causing pleasure for both partners.” His open fingers splayed out, covering her breasts. As he slid his hands up and down her torso, she felt a sense of excitement mixed with heat. Her body tingled and came to life, just like he said it would.
“Mmmm, cinnamon,” she said, inhaling the scent.
“It is edible as well.” He bent over, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth, using his tongue in circles, creating a tantalizing feeling throughout her body.
“Oh!” She closed her eyes, arching her back, loving the way it felt. His hand slid down lower and lower until his finger slipped into her most private spot. She cried out, once again, lifting her legs, spreading them farther apart, pushing against his hand. “Make love to me, Martin. I cannot wait any longer. Please. Don’t tempt and tease me anymore.”
“Your wish is my command, my lady.” He positioned himself and entered her body with his long, hard length, stretching her and filling her completely. This time, their union was different because it didn’t feel as if it was done in lust. Her heart swelled when he took his time. He was gentle, not forceful. Their bodies met in a beautiful dance of love.
They both climbed to their highest peaks and surrendered to their insatiable need for each other, finding the release they so needed. That is when she felt something in her heart for Martin that she hadn’t felt before. Through ragged breathing and with both of them thoroughly sated, he lay down next to her and pulled her close in his arms.
“I love you,” she murmured, her ear up against his chest. His heartbeat had slowed a little but sped up again when he heard her words.
“Do you mean that?” he asked, sounding ever so hopeful. “Because I love you, Winter, with all my heart and soul.”
“I do,” she said, saying the words that sealed their vows of marriage all over again. She lifted her head and gazed into his beautiful blue eyes. “We are married now, Martin. You are my husband and I am your wife. We will have children someday and spend the rest of our lives together. “
“I know, sweetheart.” He brushed back a stray hair from her face. “I never thought I could feel this way about any woman, but you have proved me wrong.”
“Then let me keep proving you wrong,” she told him, kissing him on the mouth, never wanting this feeling to end.
Chapter 21
When Winter awoke after sleeping most of the next day, she found that Martin was not in bed. “Martin?” she asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. The shutter was open a crack and a cold breeze blew into the room. Jumping out of bed, she ran and closed the shutter, then walked over to warm her body at the fire in the hearth.
“I’m in here,” she heard his muffled voice call out from inside his secret room. Seeing a cloak hanging from a hook, she hu
rried over and wrapped it around her naked body, making her way to her husband.
When she walked into the secret room, she saw Martin, fully dressed, leaning over the clock. His hands fumbled with the gears inside. A candle lit up the room, throwing shadows against the wall.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m just trying to figure out how to make this work.” He pulled out a metal plate and held it up in the air. “I think this is just too small. And the wheel needs a few of the teeth ground down. Then, mayhap it’ll work as planned.”
“Let me see that.” Winter held out her hand, surveying the piece he’d given her. “How much larger does it need to be?”
“Not much. See. It should fit right here.”
She leaned over and looked inside the clock and then back to the piece in her hand. “I can heat this in the forge and hammer it out to make it larger in a matter of minutes. I can also grind down a few of the teeth on the wheel. Do you think that will fix the problem?”
“Yes, I think so,” he told her. “That would be wonderful if you could do that.”
“After forging your sword, this will seem easy.” She sat down on a stool next to him. “Will you tell me what happened with your father now?”
“What do you mean?” He kept his attention on the clock, making her feel that he didn’t want to talk about this.
“I know this is hard for you, but I’m your wife now and need to know.”
He sighed and put down his tools. “I suppose I owe you that. What exactly do you want to know?”
“Tell me what happened between your mother and father.”
“It was a few years ago,” said Martin, looking down at the table, fidgeting with some pieces of the clock as he spoke. “My father was in the practice yard with my youngest brother, Albert.” He stopped, his eyes tearing up as he reminisced about that day.
“Go on,” she coaxed him, putting her hand over his. “I’m here for you. Please, tell me.”
He nodded and continued. “It had rained, and the field was wet and slippery. My mother told my father to wait until the practice yard was dry but he didn’t listen. He was anxious to show Albert a new move with the sword.” He looked up and met her eyes. “My father was once very skilled with the sword. He is the one who taught me to fight.”
Winter's Flame (Seasons of Fortitude Series Book 4) Page 18