World of De Wolfe Pack: The Big Bad De Wolfe (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Heirs of Titus De Wolfe Book 2)

by Barbara Devlin

  Never in his life had he drawn out the experience, had he lingered over the feminine landscape. Rather, he located his mark, mounted her however convenient, gained his pleasure, and compensated the accommodating party, regardless of whether or not she found release.

  But for Arsenius, with Senara, her satisfaction reigned supreme.

  If he failed to bring her to completion, then he could destroy the tenuous bond forged, one step at a time, in the months since their wedding, and that would devastate him. So he continued his gentle massage, until she squirmed and wiggled her hips in unmistakable invitation. Only then did he slip his hand between her legs.

  “Arsenius.” She bucked, but he gave her no quarter, as he found her hot and wet, and he reveled in the proof of her desire. Had he any reservations, she dispatched them with a sigh of unequivocal contentment, and he answered her call.

  Working her most intimate flesh in a repetitive cadence, he whispered encouragement and reassurance, and she moaned in accord with his movements. Little by little, her approbation grew, and she yanked his wrist, as if to hasten his attention. At last, he increased his pace, and her expression of adoration mixed with uncontrollable abandon, stark in its clarity, well nigh brought him to tears. The achingly charming scream with which she heralded her virgin release rocked him, and he came alert, in an instant.

  In the throes of her intense fulfillment, Senara did not notice when Arsenius loomed atop her, when he gave her his weight, when he parted her thighs, when he set his hips to hers, or when he breached her maidenhead. But when he propped on his elbows, cradled her head, and kissed her, she responded with a passion so formidable, so undeniable, that he could not resist her, and he spilt his seed.

  Grunting and groaning, he wrenched with each successive spasm, marveling at the force of his gratification. As he collapsed on his wife, his mind raced to comprehend the level of affinity they achieved, in light of her innocence. Thither was naught unique in the deed, as she possessed the usual parts. Somehow, their union was different. And then it dawned on him—he cared for her. Just as fast, he dismissed the absurd notion.

  “Well that was not how I planned our first mating.” In search of distraction, he rested his forehead to hers and chuckled. “How do you fare, my dear?”

  “Quite well, my lord.” She giggled, which tensed her muscles, and in unison they caught their breath. Biting her lip, she gasped. “Is that you?”

  “Indeed.” Flexing his spine, he withdrew and then thrust, and she dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “Will you teach me what to do, as I wish to please you, that you might never seek another’s company?”

  “Believe me, sweetheart, you need do naught, and I am yours, unreservedly.” Still, he grabbed her knee. “Wrap your legs about me.”

  Displaying her usual dedication to duty, she hugged him close, followed his instruction, and lifted her ankles. “Like this?”

  The position enabled him to attain a deeper connection, as he seated himself fully within her, and he embarked on their sensuous journey with a gentle rhythm. Framing his face, Senara held his gaze, and when he moved, she was with him.

  ~

  With a spring in her step, Senara whistled a frisky little ditty as she emerged from her chamber. To her chagrin, the noon meal had been served when she strolled into the great hall, and she promised to do better on the morrow. Then again, that depended on her husband’s seemingly boundless stamina.

  In the fortnight since they consummated their vows, Arsenius enacted a rigorous routine focusing on a single activity, every morning and night, and sometimes in between, attempting all manner of positions that stretched the limits of her imagination, but she was not complaining. As a result of his robust schedule, she often rose long after dawn, and she fretted that her duties suffered.

  “Senara, you are late.” Father frowned. “Whither have you been?”

  “She performs special tasks, which I deem of utmost importance to Bellesea.” Arsenius peered at her and winked, as she understood just what he referenced as a special task. “Sit beside me, my dear.”

  As had become his custom, her husband opted to forgo his place of honor at the dais in favor of the common tables, which endeared him to the locals. Had anyone thought it an overt attempt to win approval, it would have failed. But Arsenius’s genuine nature and unprejudiced treatment of everyone, coupled with his immense stature, emphasized the authenticity of his gesture.

  “But I am starved.” She yawned, and Papa shook his head. To a maid, Senara asked, “Will you bring me a trencher of poached salmon?”

  “Aye, my lady.” The servant curtseyed.

  Spying a basket overflowing with healthy portions of hot bread, Senara snatched a piece and shoved it into her mouth.

  “You are hungry.” Arsenius tempted her with a morsel of salmon, which she greedily bit from his grasp, and he laughed. Then he leaned close to whisper, “I know not wherefore you are so ravenous, except I exercised you hard this morrow. Ah, and now you blush, which arouses me, so I shall pay you a visit this afternoon.”

  “My lord, I must supervise the packing of His Majesty’s latest order of cream, else I would indulge you.” Beneath the table, he squeezed her thigh through her gown, and she brushed him aside. “Pray, let us delay, that we might enjoy tonight’s interlude that much more.”

  “But I would sample your cream. Do you deny me?” She could never resist his scandalous talk and his precious pout, which he deployed just then. “I could accompany you to the warehouse, and we could divert near the coast and make love behind that large gorse.”

  “Outside?” she inquired, in a low voice, despite her shock at his ribald suggestion. “Is it done?”

  “Thus far, I have taken you in the stable, in the hayloft, in the buttery, and in the rising room, and oh, did I rise for you.” He waggled his brows. “What say you, my enterprising lady?”

  Basking in the glow of the memories they collected, and the promise of passion, she nodded with enthusiasm. Using his strategy, she walked her fingers to his crotch and caressed his stout longsword. “Cherished husband, I am at your service, unconditionally.”

  “Woman, you tempt me, even now, and I tremble at the prospect.” After claiming a quick kiss, he stood. “Your father and I are scheduled to meet with the town council, to organize the fishermen’s relief fund, after the tempest that damaged the boats. Upon my return, I shall summon you for our ride to the warehouse.”

  “I look forward to it.” Just then, her belly rumbled, as the maid placed a steaming trencher before Senara.

  “Eat plenty, angel.” As he donned his cloak, he pressed his lips to her braided crown. “You will need your strength.”

  After sating her hunger, she inspected the kitchens and the stores, and then she assisted Mama and Ysella with organization and arrangement of recently delivered supplies and food items. They prepared a variety of jellies, cooked and dried fruits for the winter, and recorded a list of spices and oils to purchase at the market.

  “Your father tells me your marriage to Arsenius has been a blessing, in disguise.” Mama covered a container with a square of cloth and secured it with twine. “What say you on the matter?”

  “Oh, Mama, I am so happy.” Senara pondered the eventides spent in naught but their robes, as they admired the sunset. At dawn, Arsenius never left their bed without satisfying her. “Never have I been so content.”

  “So he treats you well?” Ysella asked. “Because he strikes me as rather menacing.”

  “In truth, I am his queen.” And never did he let a night pass without reminding her of her place in his world.

  “I am astonished.” Mama set down a receptacle. “Your affections are engaged.”

  “Are they?” Senara averted her gaze, lest she betrayed her husband’s confidence, but she desperately wanted to believe they had formed an attachment based on sincere devotion. “How do you know, as I can scarcely tell, myself?”

  “Do you really doubt it?” Mama clutched Sen
ara’s hand. “It is apparent in your face, as you glow, my child. I hope, for your sake, he is an honorable man.”

  “He is the best of men, Mama.” Senara pondered the bouquet of water pimpernel and heather, to which she was partial, he gifted her, yesterday. “In public, he tends our people as his own and respects the elders. In private, he is kind and gentle.”

  “He inquired after your favorite flower and foods.” Ysella tittered. “And he composed a journal entry as he questioned me.”

  “That explains the pykes in brasey the cook served at dinner.” As well as the potage of roysons with which he tempted her in their bed, and she stifled a snort of mirth. “Indeed, I am a fortunate woman.”

  As the sun reached its peak in the sky, bathing Bellesea in welcomed warmth, she journeyed with the physic to numerous households on the estate, to provide care for the sick and injured. Even as she tarried, thoughts of Arsenius commanded her senses, and on more than one occasion the physic inquired after her health, which garnered naught but a giggle.

  Riding a wave of anticipation, she steered her mare for home to await her husband’s desire. In the courtyard, the master of the horse held her mount, as she eased from the saddle.

  “My lady, a missive is just arrived for you.” The housekeeper curtseyed.

  “Thank you.” The telltale script on the parchment sent a shiver of dread down Senara’s spine. Recalling the note he forced on her at her wedding feast, and that she burned it without reading the contents, she decided not to leap to unsupported conclusions. After breaking the seal, she unfolded the letter.

  Dearest Senara,

  I am so sorry I could not spare you the unpleasant union to the De Wolfe murderer, and I can only pray for your forgiveness, as I failed you. Prithee, come to the north meadow, near the creek whither we played as children, that we might renew our friendship.

  Yours with affection,

  Petroc

  On the surface, the message appeared harmless, but she knew well her former betrothed and his appetite for trouble. “Oh, Petroc, what do you want now?” In a rush, she flagged the stable master. “Prithee, return my horse, as I must away.”

  _________________

  CHAPTER SIX

  With a light heart and intoxicating anticipation, Arsenius urged his destrier toward Bellesea, that he might keep his appointment with Senara. After another successful gathering of minds, he broke through some of the more defensive barriers to his position as lord of the estate, and now he looked forward to breaching his wife. It was for that reason, as he traversed the verge, he was surprised to discover his bride atop her mare, galloping to the north.

  Whither did she journey without him?

  Curious, he changed course and stayed in the down slope, trailing her from a distance. Given the warehouse sat to the east, he knew not whither she ventured. As Cornwall’s moors and high grounds were bereft of trees, he relied on the native shrubbery and unique hedges to conceal his pursuit.

  At last, she drew rein at a narrow creek, and from behind a large gorse a lone man emerged. When Senara ran into the stranger’s ready embrace, anger flared and surged through his frame, but something else plagued his senses. Pain. Raw and all encompassing, a dull ache settled in his chest, and he wondered if everything they shared was naught but a lie.

  Dismounting, he searched for and found a suitable, low-lying branch to which he secured his stallion. On his hands and knees, he crawled closer to his bride and her conspirator, until he could discern their conversation.

  “Petroc, have you gone mad?” Senara splayed her arms, as she confronted her former fiancé. “I cannot betray my husband. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

  Stunned by her declaration, and ashamed that he ever doubted the constancy of her devotion; Arsenius swallowed hard and vowed to make amends.

  “You ally yourself with the enemy?” Petroc grabbed and shook her, and Arsenius almost revealed his presence, but his bold bride slapped her friend across the cheek, which set him on his heels.

  “How dare you speak to me thus?” Waving her fist, she stretched tall for her petite stature, and he did not envy the unfortunate footpad. “I am the wife of Arsenius De Wolfe, and he owns my unimpeachable loyalty. No argument, however compelling, can inspire me to reward his kindness with disloyalty.”

  In that, Arsenius concurred, and he promised to kiss her silly when next they adjourned to their chamber.

  “I thought you loved me.” Petroc’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Am I naught to you?”

  “Nay, I have always loved you, as a sister loves a brother.” Given her proclamation, freely offered without knowledge of her husband’s attendance, Arsenius breathed a sigh of relief. “But Arsenius is my life, and he is a good man.” In that instant, Arsenius bowed his head. “Talk to him. Share your grievances, and you have my word, as your friend, he will hear you.”

  All right, he was going to make love to her until she screamed.

  “I want naught from him but what the Crown stole from us; our birthright.” Then Petroc stared down his nose at her. “Though I should be satisfied with his head on a pike.”

  “Petroc, I warn you to tread softly.” She adopted a familiar formidable pose, and Arsenius actually pitied the fool that tried but failed to menace Senara. “If you take up arms against Arsenius, then you revolt against me, and I will not countenance such treachery, regardless of our longstanding affiliation. I will fight you, with whatever means necessary.”

  “Oh?” The silk-snatcher sneered. “What do you propose to do about it?”

  “I will stop you.” She stiffened her spine. “I will defend my husband with all that I am, if you challenge his authority.”

  For that, he would bedeck her in precious gems of every color. Unaware of the games men played, Senara’s confidence threatened her safety, and Arsenius came alert, preparing to strike to spare his bride.

  “Indeed?” But as Petroc lowered his chin, she grabbed his ear, and Arsenius bit his tongue against laughter. Whimpering like a newborn babe, her friend dropped to his knees, and she held tight. “Ouch. Let go, Senara.”

  “Surrender your scheme.” She remained vigilant.

  “Nay.” He howled in agony.

  “Yield.” In silence, Arsenius wagered on his beauteous wife.

  “Nay.” The milksop yelped. “Pray, release me, and I shall call my supporters to order on the morrow.”

  On Petroc’s promise, Senara retreated. “And you will cease your nefarious activities, as thither has been enough bloodshed?”

  “If you agree to address my compatriots.” Petroc narrowed his stare, and Arsenius did not trust the sad sack of ignorance. “They will listen to you, if you wish to avoid another battle.”

  “Should I vouchsafe your request, you must give me your solemn oath never again to partake of such odious occupations, as it is not wise to bait His Majesty.” Mayhap Arsenius would beat her bottom for concurring with the idiotic notion.

  “Know that you have it.” Petroc nodded, but something in his demeanor troubled Arsenius.

  “Then I will see you on the morrow, hither.” Aye, he would beat her.

  Without so much as a backward glance, Senara reclaimed her mare, heeled its flanks, and steered toward Bellesea. Lingering in her wake, as he retraced his path, Arsenius guarded her brief journey, and she never detected him.

  The sun sat low on the horizon when he rode through the gate, and in the courtyard his bride rushed to welcome him.

  “My lord, you are late.” As was her way, she hugged him about the waist. “I was worried, such that I did not visit the warehouse.”

  “Demands on my time took longer than I anticipated, angel.” As he promised himself, he kissed her—and kept kissing her. “Shall we inspect the rising room tomorrow?”

  “I suppose.” On tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his. “I missed you.”

  “Oh?” He rubbed his nose to hers and anticipated her confession. “What did you do, in my absence?”

  �
��The usual minute tasks about the house.” With a shrug, she brushed her cheek to his, and he was aroused in an instant. “Would you be averse to dining in the solar, this eventide, as I wish to be alone with you?”

  “Of course, my lady.” That was not the response he expected. “I am your devoted servant.”

  “Then I should direct the staff.” To his shock, she pushed free. “I will see you shortly, my lord.”

  Standing stock-still, he admired the gentle sway of her hips. While Arsenius would deny to his death, it hurt him that Senara did not confide in him.

  ~

  Sprawled atop her husband, Senara caught her breath as Arsenius caressed her bottom. While she had planned to reveal the meeting with Petroc, as well as his scheme to enact a second, smaller rebellion in Penryn, her uncharacteristically quiet spouse pounced on her the instant they gained the privacy of their chamber, and she declared her intent to impart a dastardly plot.

  “Now, what was it you wished to tell me, angel?” Was it her imagination, or was he in an unusually playful mood?

  “I should begin from the start.” Cursing Petroc for creating a divide in her marriage, she lifted her head to meet her husband’s gaze. “Do you know of my former fiancé?”

  “His name is Petroc Burville, I believe?” Arsenius squeezed her so tight she gasped. “What of him?”

  “At our wedding feast at Wolfe’s Lair, he approached me with a letter.” She tried to ease to his side, but he refused to release her, so she relented. “Given the circumstances of the termination of my first betrothal, I presumed the missive contained naught but nonsense. Since I did not know you, I feared your reaction, and I fretted for Petroc’s safety, so I threw the note in the hearth when we retired.”

  “You did not read it?” He stilled, and she gulped.

  “Nay.” She shook her head.

  “Wherefore?” With his thumb, he teased the curve of her ear.