If Love Dares Enough (The Montbryce Legacy Medieval Romance)

by Anna Markland

  She arched her back, but pulled away from him, shaking her head. He thought he might go mad when he believed she was refusing him at this point.

  “Wait, my love,” she whispered. “I want to undress you.”

  His knees went weak. He coughed as she pushed him gently to sit on the edge of the bed. She knelt down and unlaced the cross garters of his boots, gradually easing them off. She untied the tops of his woollen knee socks and freed his feet. His erection throbbed mercilessly.

  “You have long toes,” she murmured, tracing her fingers over them. “I noticed them on the beach at Melton.” When she pressed his feet to her breasts, he cried out, “Dieu! You’re killing me, Devona.”

  She rose up on her knees, as he had done, and after a quick glance into his eyes, laid her flushed cheek against his arousal, kneading his hips with her fingers. Her breasts rubbed his thighs, and he wondered if she could feel the blood throbbing in his manhood. She raised her head and smiled at him. Before he knew it, her dainty hands had untied his points and she was peeling off his leggings. Coming to his feet, he tore off his doublet and shirt. They clung to each other. All that stood between them now was her chemise and his braies.

  “Take off my braies,” he rasped.

  She put her hands on his waist and curled her fingers into the linen. His shaft sprang free as she coaxed the garment over his hips. She gasped, and he saw a flicker of apprehension in her eyes as she gazed at him. He stepped out of his braies, took her hand and placed it on his manhood. His whole body was on fire.

  “It’s for you, Devona, only for you. But if you’re afraid, we can stop.”

  If we stop now, I’ll go mad.

  She shook her head. “If we stop now, Hugh, I’ll go mad.”

  It came to him seconds later that he’d torn off her chemise with too much force, but she seemed not to care. He gasped when he saw her wine red nipples, and had his mouth on them before he could think. He suckled her and she keened his name as his tongue licked and sucked. She inhaled deeply when he bit her gently.

  They fell together on to the bed and she laughed. He kissed her on the lips, his tongue pressing for entry. “Open your sweet mouth for me,” he growled. As he explored the warmth of her mouth, the texture of her teeth and tongue, his hand cupped her breast. He rolled the rock hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger and she arched up off the bed.

  She tore her mouth from his, gasping for breath, her eyes wide. “Godemite, Hugh, what was that? I’m so wet.”

  He groaned. “That was your first taste of ecstasy. If Antoine is to be believed, it pales in comparison to what comes next. Now I want my taste of it.”

  His fingers trailed down over her belly to her wet heat and she gasped as his fingers found her bud and he rubbed gently. His mind filled with an image of his shaft plunging into the hot wetness he felt on his hand as he pressed his palm against her and slid his finger inside.

  He looked at her face as she trembled and writhed. Her eyes were closed and she was moving her head from side to side, making noises he’d never heard her make before. He heard a deep guttural sound and realized it had burst forth from his own throat as his manhood penetrated her maidenhead and he found his shaft sheathed in her warm, tight grip. She was still pulsating from her earlier release. Had she cried out when he breached her? Had he hurt her? He gritted his teeth and stopped moving.

  “Did I hurt you?” he breathed into her ear. “Do you need me to stop?”

  “You cannot stop now,” she growled.

  He didn’t know which throbbed more, his head, his heart or his shaft. His deep need took hold of him. He lifted Devona’s arms above her head, entwined his fingers in hers and pressed her hands into the bolster. He bent to flick his tongue over each hard nipple, and felt her spasm on his engorged flesh. He withdrew slowly until the head of his shaft was just inside her, then plunged deeply again. He gazed into her eyes as he thrust over and over, feeling the heat building inside her. She matched his rhythm and her eyes glazed over as they both lost control and fell into an abyss of euphoria. In a blinding moment of clarity he withdrew and spilled his seed on her belly. He offered up a silent prayer of thanks to God that this woman had been sent to deliver him from his demons. At last he was a whole man. He collapsed on top of her, his whole body filled with a contented bliss he’d never known.

  As conscious thought returned, he rolled over, taking her with him so she was cradled in his arms, her hair spilling over them both. “Sorry, I’m so heavy,” he whispered, kissing her neck.

  “You’re not a burden, Hugh. You have freed me.”

  So immense was his happiness, he thought his heart might burst. It would be better still when he could claim this woman completely and spill his seed inside her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When Devona awoke, she was still lying atop Hugh. She felt sticky. She’d drooled on his shoulder, like a baby. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept so soundly, and had no notion of how long they’d been asleep. She inhaled the scent of his body—Hugh’s scent, unique to him. His steady breathing told her he was still sleeping, but when she moved her hand to wipe her mouth, he ran his hand through her hair. She felt his manhood stir.

  “Devona,” he whispered, turning her body gently so they were facing each other and she saw the love in his eyes.

  She reached up to tuck a strand of his long hair behind his ear. He took hold of her hand, kissed her palm, and then placed her hand on his arousal. “I need you again,” he growled. “I’ll never get enough of you.” He smiled. “You’ve turned me into a rutting beast.”

  She saw him frown then as he realized what he’d said. He was instantly contrite, scrambling up and sitting cross-legged in front of her. He took her hands. “I didn’t mean that as it sounded.”

  “I know, Hugh. It’s all right. My desire for you has turned me into a ravenous hoyden as well.”

  He glanced down and saw the sheen of his seed on her belly and the blood on her thighs, and on his own body. She felt her face flush, but he leapt up and went to fetch a cloth and water from the dresser. He handed her the wet cloth and she cleansed herself and then brushed his hand away as he reached for the linen. As he stood by the side of the bed, she knelt and washed him. She used her hair to dry him and pecked a kiss on the end of his swelling shaft. She gasped as she realized she had put her mouth on him.

  He took hold of her wrist as she looked away. “What’s wrong?”

  “I—I kissed you. I kissed you—there,” she stammered.

  “You can kiss my manhood whenever you wish, my lady,” he jested, but became serious when he saw the tears well in her eyes. “It’s all right. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Many women take their men in their mouths. I’d love—”

  She knew he’d stopped because he suddenly recognized the truth of the torment she had borne. He gathered her to his body. “I will kill him.”

  They stayed locked in each other’s embrace for long moments before he spoke again. She could tell he was struggling to control his anger. “I’ll never ask you to do anything you don’t wish to, Devona. I swear it to you.”

  She nodded. “But I wanted to kiss you there, Hugh. I wanted to put my mouth on you. Renouf would never let me touch him. Not that I wanted to. He used to tie my hands behind my back, so I couldn’t—”

  Hugh’s eyes widened in understanding and he suddenly grasped her hands and smoothed his thumbs over the red marks still visible on her wrists. “I never wanted to think how these marks came about,” he growled. “I remember the marigold.”

  “I wondered if you could smell it,” she laughed.

  “I’ll never forget it,” he rasped. “It roused me.”

  Feeling something coil deep in her belly she pushed his shoulder gently. “Lay back. Let me kiss you again.”

  His erection bucked as she knelt between his legs and feathered her lips to the tip of his shaft. He was bigger than Renouf, thicker, silkier—more beautiful. She swirled her tongue around
him. He inhaled a shuddering breath and put his hands on her shoulders. She felt her body weep for him as tears of passion filled her cleft. She curled her hand around the base of his maleness and moved her hand on him.

  “I’m about to swear in Saxon again,” he growled with a grin. She saw the need in his blue eyes. An urge to devour him surged through her and she took him wholly in her mouth.

  “Godemite!” he groaned. “Be gentle with me, wench. I’m new at this.”

  Devona was filled with a sense of power she’d never known. Now she was the one in control and it was euphoric. She moved her mouth on him, mimicking the thrusting that had enthralled him earlier, one hand moving against the root, the other caressing his sack. Renouf had never allowed her to put her hands on him, preferring his own rough touch. She couldn’t believe she had no desire to retch. All she wanted was to fulfill this man’s needs.

  “Take your mouth off me, Devona,” Hugh commanded suddenly. Startled, she looked up. “Grip me. Keep moving your hand. I want you to see the effect you have on me, the needs you provoke.” Seconds later he gasped out her name as his seed spurt from his phallus like a torrent from a breached dam. She had never seen anything so essentially masculine. He was like a purebred stallion, yet gentle and vulnerable. He had trusted her.

  As she gazed at him, watching his shaft soften in her sticky hand, she was overwhelmed by love. His breathing became steadier and he opened his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, pushing his body up so his weight was on his elbows. “That was selfish. I didn’t meet your needs.”

  “Hugh, you cannot know what you just did for me.”

  He reached forward with one hand and touched her most intimate place, never taking his eyes from hers. His smile told her he felt her need.

  “Would you like me to pleasure you, milady?”

  She nodded, and he turned her body so she was lying beside him. He took one nipple into his mouth and suckled her. The sensation shot down her thighs, then back up and into her lower belly. She cradled his head, holding her breast to his lips. He fingered her engorged bud, caressing, and then pressing, then caressing again, until she thought she might go mad with the exquisite sensations. Each time he rubbed, he slid his finger further and further inside her, then two fingers, then three. She was so wet.

  Suddenly she was screaming, making guttural sounds that she’d never made before as a rising crescendo of pleasure swept over her. Hugh’s mouth was on hers and his manhood was sliding home, thrusting and thrusting and she entered a world of sublime rapture, her sheath pulsating against him until he withdrew, growling out his release.

  She felt like a drunkard when he lifted her moments later and cradled her to his chest. “You’re good at this, for a novice,” she teased.

  He laughed. “I may have been chaste, but I’m not deaf. Antoine could write a treatise on how to please a woman, and he’s not shy about sharing his knowledge.”

  “Thank God for Antoine and his prowess,” she giggled, cuddling into him.

  “Indeed! In fact, there’s one way he told me about we’ll have to try, but not now. Darkness is falling. Your family will wonder what’s become of you. We must go down to sup in the Hall. All this passion has made me hungry.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Word has come from his Majesty. He’s back in Normandie and ready to begin his campaign to recover control of Le Maine.”

  Antoine had barely dismounted from his sweating horse before delivering this piece of unwelcome news. Hugh was a warrior, a member of a noble military family with an heroic history and reputation, a man trained to protect his land. By joining with him less than a sennight before, Devona had helped him see that though violent action in battle might arouse him, it was a common experience for warriors to undergo.

  Yet he was loath to join this campaign in Le Maine. He didn’t want to leave Devona. There were matters to be dealt with concerning their relationship. In the eyes of the Church, they had committed adultery. Hugh had tried to convince Devona to accompany him to the Bishop, but she refused, forbidding him to tell anyone of her humiliation. Devona’s family knew of the change in their relationship—they couldn’t keep their hands off each other—but he sensed Devona’s mother in particular condemned their love as sinful. Devona had not told her mother what had happened to her at Renouf’s hands. Hugh had tried desperately not to spill his seed inside her, but in the euphoria of his release—she might conceive. She would be alone.

  Domfort and Belisle were close to the border with Le Maine. It was in both his and Antoine’s interest that the Conqueror regain control of the territory from the Count of Le Maine, Hugh the Fifth.

  The brothers walked together into the Hall. Antoine stopped suddenly when he saw Devona.

  He knows. Just by looking at her he can tell.

  Antoine kissed Devona’s hand and bowed to her. “Lady Devona, you’re looking remarkably—well. Living in our beautiful Normandie seems to agree with you.”

  Devona’s face reddened. “Yes, thank you, Antoine. I do love it here.” She glanced over at Hugh, confusion in her eyes. He hated what he had to tell her. “My knights and I ride soon for Le Maine.”

  “Le Maine?”

  Devona could have no notion of the politics of Norman enmity with Anjou. “To the south. The land there belonged to Normandie, but a few years ago the Angevins took advantage of the king’s absence in England and invaded. William wants Le Maine back and will lead us in the campaign.”

  Devona swayed and leaned back against one of the trestle tables pushed against the wall. “King William is in Normandie? Will he come here?”

  Hugh saw the fear in her eyes, and knew Antoine had seen it too. “He may muster the troops here. He’s always trusted the Montbryces.”

  Antoine interrupted. “It’s more likely though he will gather our forces at Belisle. We are closer to the disputed territory.”

  Devona gripped the edge of the trestle. “So you ride to Le Maine to fight?”

  He nodded. “Montbryces are warriors, Devona.” He saw no point in denying what he was, what his life was. This wouldn’t be the last time he would have to leave her to heed the call of distant drums. Unless he fell. If he died in this campaign, what would become of her? She would have no champion, no one to keep her out of Renouf’s clutches. He saw the same powerless desolation in her eyes that he felt in his own heart. If only there was some way they could be married. He looked long and hard at his brother.

  “What is it?” Antoine asked, obviously uncomfortable under Hugh’s scrutiny.

  “I need to ask you something.” He saw Devona shake her head, but walked over and took her hand. “Antoine, I need you to be a witness.”

  Antoine arched his brows, but said nothing.

  “I am pledging myself before you to Lady Devona Melton.” He kissed Devona’s hand.

  Antoine scratched his head. “Pledging yourself?”

  “As her husband.” Devona gasped and his brother’s shoulders stiffened.

  “You cannot be her husband,” Antoine said angrily. “She already has a husband, and you’re playing—”

  “Non, she does not.”

  “How can that be?”

  Hugh felt Devona’s fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. “I cannot tell you. You simply have to believe me when I tell you Devona’s marriage to Renouf was never consummated.”

  Antoine snorted. “Look, brother, she may have told you that—”

  “Don’t insult her, Antoine. She was virgin when she came to my bed.”

  Antoine swore. “You’ve bedded her? Did you listen to none of my warnings? You’ll bring the King’s wrath down on your heads if he finds out.”

  “It’s my intention to tell him.” Hugh felt Devona begin to sway. He put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll take our plea to the King. How can he support Renouf in this?”

  “They are married, Hugh. Married. She agreed to be his wife. He will condemn her and imprison you, maybe even me if he
finds out I aided you. I’m sorry, Devona, I didn’t mean to imply that I regret—”

  Devona was sobbing now. “Please, Hugh, I cannot bear the thought of the two of you suffering on my account. I’ll give myself up to be returned to Renouf.”

  “Non!” Hugh and Antoine both shouted at once, and a third voice joined the denial. Lady Wilona Melton had entered the Hall. Hugh wondered how much she’d overheard.

  “Please, Antoine. I beg you. Witness our pledge to each other.” He turned to Devona. “That’s if you wish to be my wife.”

  Devona sank to her knees, kissed Hugh’s trembling hand and held it to her cheek. “It’s my dearest wish,” she murmured.

  Antoine folded his arms across his chest, and looked down at his feet. He was silent for long minutes before he drew his sword. “Very well. Kneel before me and place your hands on my sword.” He pointed the weapon to the floor. Hugh slapped him on the back and then knelt beside Devona. They placed their hands atop Antoine’s sword.

  Looking into Devona’s eyes, Hugh said, “Lady Devona Melton, this day, in the year of Our Lord One Thousand and Seventy-Three, I give you my troth as your husband. I will love and honour you until the day of my death, so help me God.” He nodded to her.

  “Milord Hugh de Montbryce, as God is my witness, this day I give you my troth as your wife. I will love and honour you until the day of my death.”

  Antoine placed his hand atop theirs. “As an honourable knight pledged to the service of his Majesty King William the Conqueror, and as Seigneur of Belisle, I declare that Hugh de Montbryce and Devona Melton are pledged to each other as man and wife.”

  “Thank you, brother,” Hugh said as he helped Devona to her feet, noticing the smile on Lady Wilona’s face.