by Ria Cantrell
Rhianna looked over at the empty space in her bed and her heart thudded with anticipation of being with Erik again. It had only been a few days since she shared his bed, but she missed being with him sorely. Her stomach fluttered when she thought about the delicious ways Erik made her sigh and desire coursed through her veins.
At long last, there was a raucous cacophony of noise outside her door and Rhianna knew the party dwellers were bringing her man to her. She instinctively pulled the coverlet up to her chin because the nightrail left nothing to the imagination. As the door burst wide, a group of men were carrying her big husband almost like those in effigy and they deposited him with a bounce onto the bed. There were more than a few ribald comments and quips and Rhianna felt herself flush at the bawdy jests. Their merrymaking, though, was infectious and Rhianna did indeed have the perfect “sheath prepared for Erik’s Sword”. She blushed deeper at the thought but was anxious for them to be alone.
With a hearty laugh, Erik commanded the men to leave them to themselves and reluctantly, they left, closing the door with a heavy thud behind them. As their laughter and jests grew fainter, Erik turned to Rhianna and offered her a seductive grin. She thought he looked like a wolf about to devour his prey and she giggled, knowing she would be well devoured before the morning came.
He plucked the bed covers from her fingers and his pupils dilated at the sight of her in that sheer nightgown. She thought she heard him moan a little and used it to her advantage. She crawled toward him on all fours and she watched as his eyes observed her advance. He was actually grateful that they had put her first time behind them, because he liked her to take the initiative at times. He was glad she was no longer a shy virgin, because while virginity had its merits, Erik enjoyed Rhianna’s passion. And passionate she was!
Erik leaned in and kissed her and he said, “I have been waiting all day to be alone with you. You looked lovely today.”
She lowered her lashes coyly. “So did you,” she replied honestly. He slid his doublet off and left his under tunic opened across his chest. She was forced to remember that time some weeks ago when she had seen him chopping wood in Alric’s yard and her mouth had gone dry then as it did now. She was certain he could hear the wild pounding of her heart. Whether he heard it or not, his hand gently palmed over her left breast as it peaked through the shimmering fabric of her night rail. He bent forward and took her erect nipple between his teeth, capturing it; fabric and all as his tongue flipped over it. He watched for her reaction and saw her eyes roll back as she moaned softly. He laid her back against the down filled pillows and he saw her reaching for the hem of the sheer gown. He stilled her hands and said gruffly, “Leave it on…it is like you are basked in moonbeams.”
He stood and peeled his trews off his legs and shucked his tunic to fall beside them at the foot of the bed. Then pulling the covers down, Erik took a moment to gaze at his beautiful bride lying there in the glow of the fire and candles that lit their chambers. She took all of him in her sight, in his magnificent male perfection. As the firelight flickered against his skin, Rhianna noticed a shadow across his middle.
What the hell? It looked like a nasty bruise. She sat up quickly and put her hand to the spot. He sucked in his breath sharply. Bloody hell! He had forgotten there would be a bruise.
~Chapter Forty~
“What is this, Erik?”
Not wanting to break their mood, he said, “T’is nothing. I got it in the lists when I was training.”
“Training? When?”
“This morning, never mind about it.”
“This morning? You were training this morning? Why?”
“I train most every day, Love. You know that,” he answered with a half-truth. If she learned he and Randall were beating the tar out of each other, he could kiss his wedding night celebration goodbye. But as her eyes narrowed and searched his, Erik knew there would never be anything that he could hide from her.
“There is something you are not telling me. What is it?”
Erik sighed. So much for his planned seduction. Sitting heavily on the bed beside Rhianna, he said, “Alright. I did not want to tell you because I knew…oh hell, I knew you would have my hide.”
“Tell me what?”
“Randall and I were sparring before dawn. We were just aiming to work out some tension before the wedding, but it got a little out of hand.”
“You and Randall were fighting? Why?”
“Sparring, Love. Sparring. But then he wanted to defend your honor and so, we ended up sprawled in the dirt.”
“Who won the fight? You know he has been ill,” she said in defense of her brother.
“Aye, I know it. I was going to go easy on him, and in all honesty, he almost bested me. He has all this pent up anger inside of him, I suppose because of what he endured. If it wasn’t for Andarra, I fear I would not be….”
“Andarra? Are you serious? Andarra knew about this? Do you not know how ridiculous it is to be fighting on your wedding day? Both of you could have been hurt or worse!”
Erik stole a quick kiss from her lips before more of a tirade ensued.
“I know. It was foolish of both of us and I am sorry.”
“And how did Andarra thwart your foolery?”
Erik cleared his throat sheepishly and said, “She stood on Randall’s arm and she put her staff into the small of my back.”
Rhianna’s eyes went wide at the mental image of the old chatelaine stopping the two big men mid fight. Erik thought she was going to start searing him with a well-deserved tongue lashing and as he waited for it, Rhianna began to laugh. She laughed until tears formed in her eyes and her side ached. Erik grinned like a simpleton and ventured, “You find it amusing?”
“Not that you were fighting my brother on your wedding day. That I think was quite stupid, actually. Any number of things could have happened…the least being you getting badly hurt…but the idea of that little old woman putting a stop to your foolery is brilliant.”
Wiping at the tears in her eyes, Rhianna sobered enough to say, “Come here. Let me look at it.”
Not wanting to provoke a fit of temper, Erik thought to do as he was bidden for a change and so he sat close to her so she could inspect the damage across his midsection. With gentle fingers, she pressed into the darkened spot and felt him suck in a gasp. “Have a care, woman. That hurts.”
“Yes, I suspect it does.”
Rhianna moved from her spot and stood. She fumbled with the contents of a chest located at the foot of the bed. Erik watched Rhianna in her near nakedness as she dug through the trunk, seemingly to have forgotten that her beautiful little rump was on full display to his gaze. When she found what she had been looking for, she stood and walked casually over to their bed. Pushing him not so gently back against the pillows, Rhianna opened a jar of some pleasant smelling ointment. She sat, cross-legged beside him and she explained, “This is a recipe of comfrey, crushed violets and St. John’s Wort. It is known to help heal bruising. The comfrey and violets speeds in the healing of the damaged flesh and the St. John’s Wort aids in easing the pain and discomfort of it.”
Rhianna gently rubbed the salve into Erik’s flesh. She added, “I should really let you suffer, you know, but I have better uses for you this night, so I hope the salve does its duty…so you can,” she added wistfully. At the mention of him doing his husbandly duty, hot desire returned to him and he sprung to life before her in proof that he had no intention of disappointing her. He saw her lick her lips slightly and he knew his erection had not gone unnoticed by his beautiful wife.
Erik was charmed. Not only was his wife smart and gifted, she was quite the vixen when she was determined about what she wanted in their bed. He had no complaints about that. As he lay there, seemingly defenseless before her, she put the salve aside and she began to torture him with love bites and kisses. She nipped his neck and she growled close to his ear, “Silly fool, fighting on your wedding day.”
Erik laughed, but she
was right. He was a fool. Risking being with her this night was not worth any male hissing that he and Randall had done at each other. He tried to pull her down to kiss him, but she would have none of it.
“No, knave, this is mine,” she said, not so convincingly. It almost, in fact, sounded like an endearment. Her teeth trailed lower, lightly catching his flat nipple and she felt him tense beneath her fingers and mouth. Resting her head below his breast she looked past his waist and saw he was hard and ready. She hissed, “Mmmm, good, it seems your folly has not caused damage to this.”
Her hand closed around him and he let out his breath. He had not realized he had been holding it, but as he felt her take him into her warm hand, his breath escaped his lungs. He rasped, “Rhianna…please.”
“Please what, Rogue?”
Erik could not answer because he felt her mouth kiss over the marred flesh where the purpled mark gave his morning sport away. The muscles in his stomach and groin tensed as her hand glided over him, softly pumping up and down the rigid length of him.
“Love, please,” he pleaded.
Again she asked, “Please what? Please touch me?”
“Mmm.”
“Please kiss me?”
She asked as she then placed her lips to his manhood. It was too much for him. He was afraid he would dishonor himself right then and there. Sitting up quickly, Erik took her shoulders in his strong hands and he kissed her mouth deeply, sealing his lips to hers. He felt her tongue duel with his and anger be damned! He knew she wanted him badly.
As he moved her back beneath him, he raised the transparent night rail above her thighs. He felt her legs part in welcome as he sank between them and it was all he could do to not plunge into her. First he wanted to be certain she was ready, for he never wanted it to hurt her, so he opened her up to him, with carefully probing fingers. He moaned as he found her deliciously wet.
“God’s teeth,” he muttered as her dew dripped onto his fingers. Drawing her legs around his hips, there was no more thought given to any of his bruising. There was only one thought on both their minds and that was for him to be inside of her. As he sank fully into her, he heard her gasp and he searched her face to assure himself that he had not entered too quickly. Her lips were slightly open and her eyes were half closed. Nay, she did not seem to be in any discomfort whatsoever. Nor, for that matter, was he. He felt her nails digging into his buttocks, pulling him to her and he obliged her by moving completely against her. What began as slow thrusts soon turned to quicker rocking.
Erik felt the amazing way Rhianna squeezed him from within herself and it was almost more than he could stand. His voice caught as he heard Rhianna sighing in soft moans of pleasure. He was a lucky man. This woman was his equal in his bed and he could not have been happier. He loved that Rhianna was sensual and that she enjoyed making love with him. He felt her body rise up to meet his thrusts and he found a perfect rhythm with her. This time, it did not seem to take either of them long to get to the place where there was no holding back. Ah, well, it would just mean they could go slower the next time.
Rhianna arched up and cried out as Erik’s seed filled her. In the sweet release and the dreamy moments after, Rhianna heard Andarra’s words resound in her head, “You will conceive on your wedding night.”
She was not certain that it was so at that very moment, as they lay spent and gasping in the afterglow, but Rhianna knew that before dawn, Erik’s babe would be growing inside of her. She was sure of it.
~Chapter Forty-One~
Devina did not want to go back to her cottage. She had failed the dark lord of Morcar Keep badly. He would be waiting for her, no doubt and would seek retribution against her. She could only imagine what he had planned for her. As she drove her mule cart into the cooper’s shed, with trembling fingers she unpacked the wares. She needed to think. She would have to get away. Even though she knew he would be able to find her, she had to try. Perhaps if she could sneak out in the night, she would have better luck evading him.
As the last items were unpacked into the shed, Devina made her way quietly to her cottage, lest Aaron lie in wait for her. He had a sinister way of hiding among the shadows and she did not know when and if he would make his presence known.
She turned the latch of the door to her cottage. Something was amiss. It seemed like it was almost too quiet. Devina did not even hear the sounds of the breeze on the trees. Her hand paused as she warred with herself to open the door. This was wrong. She could almost taste it. She had the momentary thought to flee. With her heart thudding, she shook herself from her feelings of superstitious foreboding. Could she just be scaring herself silly for no reason?
As she pushed the door open, she had not been prepared for what lay in wait for her. As a gasp died on her lips, a hand raised to her mouth as her eyes took in the horrible sight before her that she nearly could not comprehend. There on the floor, crumpled like a rag doll was her daughter. The livid purpling of hand marks around her throat was evident. Her head hung at an unnatural angle and it registered in the fog of Devina’s mind that no person could yet live with a neck bent that way.
No! She was dead…her little daffodil was dead. She had been strangled, and her neck had been snapped. Devina did not need to wonder who had done such a thing. She knew. By all that was unholy, she knew.
The evil specter and perpetrator of the heinous deed seemed to slither out of the shadows. He stood over the broken body of Lenore with a hideous leer on his lips. When he spoke, it sounded as if hell had opened and the graveled voice taunted, “I see your daughter was not able to return to du Montefort Keep. Such a shame,” he said whisking his lips to form a tsk tsk sound.
“It seems she was affronted by my visit. Not a very gracious hostess at all. You have taught her well to bare her talons for she nearly clawed my good eye from its socket. I could not allow that, I’m afraid.”
Devina had thought to do the same, but she knew her strength was no match against this big bulk of a monster. She could not look at Lenore. It seemed that there was some things in the world that could make her cry after all. As tears threatened to surface, she mumbled, “You did not have to kill her. It was not her fault that she could not gain entry.”
“Ah, but you see, I did have to kill her, for how else would you know that I am not a man to be thwarted of my plans? I think perhaps you thought I jested when I said how important the information of the wedding plans and the goings on inside du Montefort was to me. Now you know that I will have what I need.”
“I knew, but.…”
“Perhaps, it will be better for you, for surely you were able to deliver my special gift to the wedding party.”
Devina stammered, “Y-yes, of course.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I gave it to the lady’s personal guard. H-he assured me he would see she received it.”
Devina was amazed how easily that lie came to her lips. In fact, she had dropped the cask on the way back from the keep at the side of the road. She was certain that the tincture Aaron had made her swab inside of it was some sort of poison. She wanted no part of it once she had been denied access to the wedding celebration.
Aaron pulled his hand from behind his back holding the cask out before her. How could it be? How could he have it? He was bluffing…it had to be a different vessel.
“Interesting. I found this on the road on my way here.”
Impossible…he had arrived long before her, how could he have found it? It could not be the same one.
“That is not--not the same one. I--I delivered it. I did.”
“Did you?”
Devina nodded, starting to feel panic rise inside of her. With two large strides he stood before her and he grabbed her by what was left of her hair.
“Then you shall have no problem drinking it, should you?”
Devina had no choice but to now admit that she had tossed the cask off on the side of the road. She began to plead for mercy as she mumbled an excuse of why she
had cast off the cask, but Aaron Jasper, the lord of Morcar gripped her scalp as if he had claws and he pulled her neck back. Seeing what he had done to Lenore, Devina had no doubt he could snap her neck with one hand.
As she tried to beg him for her life, he poured the contents of the cask over her lips. It tasted bitter. Devina sputtered as he continued to pour the soured wine over her mouth, dribbling it down the front of her bodice. He growled, “You stupid fool. This is not the poison you thought it to be. I may have some powers, but conjuring items from one place to another is not one of them. I knew you would not have finished your task. You gave yourself up without much help from me.”
Twisting her arm painfully behind her back with one gloved hand, he dragged Devina out before him. “Wh-what are you going to do with me?”
“What indeed? You are of no more use to me now, but I cannot leave you to wag your nasty tongue, can I? One thing you are good at is gossip mongering.”
Taking an oil lamp that had been lit in the corner of the hovel; he tossed it onto the roof of the cottage, setting the thatch ablaze with just a few sparks. Devina stared in horror as the whole thing became engulfed in flames and she watched what was left of her life go up in smoke. He thought he heard her murmur, “daffodil” and he shoved her onto his horse. His bloodlust had not been abated as he thought it would be when he wrung the neck of that ugly little whore. Usually, when he committed violence, the need to commit it again would take a little time. Not so today. He supposed it was because the more he wanted the black haired witch for himself; the more his lust for violence would not be quelled.
He actually heard the trollop before him whimpering and it was enough to grate on his nerves. He leaned closer to her, his fetid breath rancid against her cheek and he said, “Cease or I will be happy to slit your throat from ear to ear and leave your carcass on the side of the road as carrion for the crows.”
He was not certain why he actually took her with him and had not dispensed with her, but he thought that perhaps he could still use her. He certainly was not done punishing her. Aaron took great pride in his ability to cause suffering and pain to another person. He had given his heart over to the devil long ago. There was nothing that brought him more joy than to inflict agony on another human being. Why just the thought of doing it brought hardness to his loins. Yes, the overused harlot would be useful for something, but he had not decided what exactly.