The Conqueror's Lady

by TERRI BRISBIN

  ‘No more half measures between us, Fayth. Come to me and be my wife, support me in my endeavours, for our success and for our people.’

  ‘It is too soon, I think,’ she whispered, still not taking his hand.

  ‘It is not soon enough,’ he replied.

  ‘You would offer the same allegiance you ask of me, Giles? Simply because I bled and proved my words to you?’

  ‘I would trust you as my wife if you gave me your word, oui, your honour now proven by your blood.’ He stood then. ‘I wish it could have been otherwise between us and truly I wanted to believe your word, Fayth. I tried. You know it was a weakness from my past that I wanted proof before trusting you further.’

  She watched him with uncertain eyes, yet he knew within that it was not the act that she feared. She feared the rest, what he asked of her.

  ‘Trust me, Fayth,’ he said. Lifting his hand out once more, he whispered, ‘Come to me.’

  That he asked her and did not force spoke much to her of his honour. Regardless of his being baseborn, his actions did tell of his innate nobility. He had qualities that she’d seen go missing in many called ‘lord’, whether Saxon or Norman. And she stood before him, with betrayal in her heart as he begged for her trust.

  ‘Giles, there is much we should say before—’

  He pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her from speaking. ‘There is much we could both confess about our pasts, Fayth. I am asking for your future, from this moment on.’ As though he knew of her actions, he whispered, ‘All will be well for we will make it so,’ he promised.

  She watched as he stepped away and sat on the bed. His body was pleasing to her and did not frighten her as it had before; even the proof that he was ready to claim her made her ache in places she had never known existed before he arrived. Fayth knew also that she wanted the life he was offering her. It had come about in the wrong way, but nothing could change that short of another invasion. He was here. He was her husband and he asked her, asked her, to join with him and be his wife.

  Fayth reached out and took his hand, accepting all he offered in that moment. Even knowing that a day of reckoning would face her, she would trust him to see a way through it. Moving closer, she waited for him to take her.

  ‘Kiss me, lady,’ he whispered.

  Fearing her inexperience would disappoint him, she shook her head. ‘I know not how.’

  He spread his legs and drew her closer. ‘Then begin as we have before and learn the way.’

  She stepped closer, between his legs, and leaned her face to his. Instead of touching her, he put his hands on the bed on either side of him and waited. She’d never approached a man like this before, so she imitated something he’d done and slid her hands into his hair and brought her lips to his. When he did nothing but accept it, she began to kiss the edges of his mouth, and then she nipped at his top lip and then the bottom one.

  His body reacted, his manhood surged against her legs, but he did not move. Fayth used her tongue to trace over his lips and when he opened them to her she dipped inside his mouth as he had hers. Tasting him and sliding her tongue deeper, she found his and touched it. But when she thought he would taste her, he did not.

  Moving closer, even leaning against his hardness, she pressed her mouth more fully to his and, when his tongue did meet hers, she suckled on it as he had done to hers. It was pleasurable and she discovered that with each suck or stroke of it an aching throbbed deep inside her. His taste and tongue filled her mouth then and he changed the kiss, taking control of her mouth even as she felt his hands moving over her body.

  When she lifted her head to take a breath, she discovered he’d slid the robe from her shoulders. Letting go of his head, she let the robe drop. Before she could begin anew, he untied the laces of her syrce and opened it. She closed her eyes and waited for the touch of his mouth.

  Her legs trembled as he kissed her breasts, licking them and nipping at them and then suckling one tip and then the other. She rested her hands on his head and slid her fingers through the length of his hair. When the sensations became too strong, when her legs gave out from the onslaught of feelings rushing through her blood, he lifted her and placed her on the bed. She thought he would bring the covering over them, but he did not. Instead, he covered her with his body and took control of her.

  His mouth moved from hers, onto her neck and shoulders, and every touch made her ache. When he took her breasts again, her body arched towards his, her woman’s core heated and wet and wanting his touch there, too. Instead, he laughed and made his way down her body, sliding up onto his knees and not allowing her to move. When she reached over to touch his hardness, he pushed her hands away.

  ‘Not this time, Fayth,’ he said as he renewed his attentions to every inch of her.

  It was hard to breathe now, hard to hold a thought, hard to do anything but feel, and feel she did. His mouth was on her stomach now and that place between her legs pounded as the ache grew stronger there. If he would only touch her there, ease the ache with his fingers, she could…she would…Tossing her head back, she released the moan that fought its way out.

  ‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please,’ she begged. He ignored her words and continued his path lower. When he spread her legs, she tried to hold them together. The candle’s light might be dim, but he would see…there.

  ‘Open for me,’ he cajoled, his tongue and mouth now on her thighs.

  Not sure of anything but needing him to finish this torture, she let her legs fall open. But he did not touch her there. He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and pulled her closer. His mouth kissed along her leg, nearer and nearer, until she thought he must mean to…

  Oh, he could not think to…!

  And he did. Before she could protest such an indecent thing, he opened her with his fingers and then placed his mouth there. She tried to pull away, the intensity of her body’s reaction scared her, but he held her with his hand on her leg.

  ‘Be at ease, Fayth,’ he whispered, not lifting his mouth from her.

  When his tongue moved over the place that ached the most, she lost the battle and simply felt. Tongue, lips, mouth and even, she thought, fingers touched her there, sliding over and in, making her arch and pull from it, making her wet and making her want something that he held just out of reach. He found that same spot he’d used his fingers on before and now licked and even sucked against it until she felt nothing but the tension within her.

  Something wound, tight and tighter, inside her, until she could not move and breathe. Then it released her as waves and waves of pleasure rushed through her body, easing and answering the ache. She moaned loudly and keened out some sound from deep inside. He moved then, but she cared not, her body wept its release as he placed himself over her.

  ‘Fayth, look at me,’ Giles ordered in a gruff voice. When she opened her eyes they were soft and her gaze dreamy with the pleasure he’d given her. But he wanted her to know the moment he took her and made her his. ‘Wife,’ he said as he entered her tightness and pushed through her maidenhead.

  He knew when it hurt her, for her gaze cleared of the passion and watched him as he moved in and stopped, waiting for her body to adjust to his. He could pause only a few seconds, for his body, denied this pleasure, demanded more. He slid his hand beneath her bottom and lifted her hips and plunged in deeply, touching even as far as her womb. Her wetness eased the way now and her body gripped him as he thrust forward and slid back, over and over. He began to lose himself in the pleasure of being deep within her when he felt his seed ready to spill.

  He tightened and he pushed deeper still, plunging in until he could go no further and held himself there. He emptied himself within her and moaned out his release, enjoying the feel of her tightness throbbing around him as he did so. When there was no more to give, he pulled himself out and lay at her side.

  It took several minutes before he could catch his breath, and he feared looking too closely at her for either his lust would reig
nite or he would see disappointment on her face from the pain she’d suffered. He should have known that Fayth would react as he least expected her to.

  ‘Is it always like that?’ she asked as she rolled to her side and pressed up against him.

  ‘Nay,’ he answered, peering at her in the dim light. ‘Each time can be different.’ He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  She rubbed her eyes, wiping away any others before he could. ‘A little, just as you…as you…’

  Pierced her maidenhead. He shook his head and smiled softly. ‘And the rest?’

  He swore she snuggled closer to him as she replied. ‘It did not hurt.’ She leaned up on her elbow. ‘Will it hurt each time?’

  Giles watched as her gaze moved over him. When she moved her hand, he thought she meant to touch him.

  ‘Nay,’ he rasped out, both in answer to her question and as a plea for her not to lay her hand on him there.

  His flesh responded as though she had, for it filled once more and rose up. Then she did touch it and it extended beneath her palm. He inhaled sharply at the pleasure and pain of her grasp. ‘Nay, Fayth.’

  He pushed her hand away and climbed from the bed. She came to him a virgin and he must see to her needs instead of simply rolling her over and ploughing her like a common whore. And, more importantly, she was his wife and he needed to have a care for her.

  Her maid, knowing of his plans as most likely anyone in the keep did, had left a bowl of herbs on the table and a pitcher of water heating near the fire. Pouring the steaming water over the crushed leaves, he gathered up a few cloths and carried them to the bed. Giles took her hand and eased her to the side and waited as she used the scented water to soothe and clean the area between her legs.

  He then washed himself and watched as she went over to the chest that held her clothes. When she lifted out a clean shift, intent on putting it on, he shook his head.

  ‘Do not waste your time,’ he warned. ‘I will have you next to me as you are now when we are abed.’

  His bold words were made bolder by the reaction of his body. There was no fear there when she looked on him.

  ‘And what about you?’ she asked, glancing at his hardness as it now stood against his belly.

  ‘I fear it will take more than once before the desire I feel for you is satisfied,’ he promised. ‘It stands ready for the next time. When you are not sore,’ he assured her.

  He’d pulled the covers up when she climbed into his arms, turning her back to his front, as they’d slept these last few nights. Giles looked ahead at a long night of trying not to press his attentions on her in her state when he felt her rub her bottom against him.

  ‘You are ready and I am not sore, Giles.’

  He pulled her closer, holding her tightly and sliding his hardness between her legs. Her wetness already slickened the folds there and he slid himself into her.

  She might not have ached then or for a while after, but later on in the dark of night she begged for mercy and he simply held her close as she slept, satisfied in a way he’d never known before.

  Virgins were not for bastards like him. Heiresses were not for mercenary knights with no name. But he’d received both in his marriage to her, along with a siren who had no idea of the passion she held inside.

  So, if he now held all he’d ever wanted within his grasp, why did his heart pound with fear?

  Chapter Seventeen

  T he next weeks passed too quickly for Giles, for they represented all the good that he’d thought having a wife and lands and responsibilities would be. Fayth worked along with him and, in that time, supplies were accounted for, moved to and stored in the keep. Once the inventory was taken, she turned her efforts to restoring the keep to the home it had once been. The wall was removed and their chambers were expanded as Giles had suggested, and he used some of the additional space for a tub after discovering the many joys of a wife assisting her husband in his bath.

  Those who lived in the village were permitted back to their lands and cottages when the attacks from the north stopped. He noticed a number of villagers, tenant farmers, returned once the area was safe and patrolled by his men.

  He did not look too closely or ask many questions. He simply accepted their return and their pledges to pay rent as they had before. It was lax, he knew, but he needed farmers to care for the lands and the woods and, without connections, he would have difficulty finding many free men to do so.

  Brice’s reports caused him to search his soul and his mind for a solution to the problem and danger that faced them. Allowing runaways refuge was against the law and Giles could be punished, or even forfeit these lands, if he was found guilty of such a charge. But he walked the thin line, balancing between trying to be the honourable man Lord Gautier had made him and honouring the laws of his duke.

  Brice finished his work with Fayth, for he was no longer needed as overseer as Giles had given his trust to her and did not need his friend to watch her actions now. Brice’s restlessness increased as his grant of lands was delayed and he spent more of his time away from the keep than inside it, sometimes on Giles’s business and sometimes on his own.

  Fayth still visited the village, checking on the injured woman until she could be moved and following the progress of their weavers and tanners. Her visits seemed to leave her less haunted than those first ones, but her eyes were always duller when she returned.

  She was reticent about their growing affection only in front of her people, and rarely did she take his hand or touch him outside their chambers, but once they entered their rooms nothing stood between them. She both accepted and gave during their bedplay and they discovered many ways to seek and find pleasure between them. And, if the tenderness he felt for her was something more than just the desire and fondness a man felt for his wife, he was not unhappy about it. He looked forward to the long nights of winter when he could keep her to himself and make her realise that she was safe with him.

  The only darkness in their contentment was the presence of Lord Huard’s men on a frequent basis. Eudes always asked permission, but he made all of the Saxons nervous and most of the Normans and Bretons Giles had brought with him liked him little more.

  He would show up reporting missing serfs and ask permission to search for them in the village. Giles had allowed it once, but even with his men standing watch over the process his people were handled roughly and a few injured. When Eudes and Roger came to blows over a not-so-sly insult, Giles denied him permission to enter the village.

  Instead, Eudes and his men would sit on the road leading in and out of it and accost anyone travelling there. It took but a few incidents before Giles withheld permission for even that, and Eudes was restricted to travelling only to the keep and back to Huard’s lands.

  With the dislike and tensions growing between him and this Norman lord, Giles should not have been surprised when a group of men wearing the duke’s livery arrived at Taerford Keep.

  Giles had entered the hall when he received word that the duke’s men waited for him. Roger stood at his back, his place now since Giles had appointed him captain of his guard. With Roger in charge of the men, Fayth in charge of the keep and Hallam newly named manor reeve, Brice spent more time on his own and gone from Taerford, as he was this day.

  Giles moved forward to offer greetings and was surprised to find a bishop in his hall. Walking to him, Giles kissed his ring, the sign of his Holy Office, and then knelt for a blessing. When rising to his feet, he welcomed him, still not recognising the man or knowing what would bring a bishop there.

  ‘My lord bishop, welcome to Taerford Keep,’ he said. Holding his hand out to Fayth, who stood watching against the wall, he brought her forward. ‘This is my wife, Lady Fayth.’

  ‘Lord Bertram’s daughter?’ the bishop asked.

  ‘Aye,’ Fayth replied, as she curtsied before him.

  It was not until the bishop looked squarely at him that Giles recognised him after all. �
�Father Obert?’

  Father Obert had been the duke’s clerk and had handled all the details when Giles received his grant of lands.

  ‘A bishop now?’ he asked.

  ‘A reward for my faithful service to God and King,’ Bishop Obert replied, with a wink at him. ‘Many are rewarded in the same manner, eh, my lord?’

  Giles noticed the words used by the bishop and asked him as he led him to the table, ‘Has William been crowned king, then?’

  ‘Nay, I but spoke in haste. He has been at Canterbury these last weeks and will move on London soon.’ He lowered his voice then, after noticing there were other than loyal Normans in the room. ‘We must speak.’ Giles dismissed everyone, but asked if Fayth could remain.

  ‘Can she understand our tongue?’

  ‘Aye, my lord bishop, she understands and speaks it…and reads it as well.’

  ‘Send her away, Lord Giles. I would speak to you in private first.’

  When everyone but he, the bishop and the other of the duke’s men remained, the bishop bade him to sit and moved the soldiers away from where they sat.

  ‘The duke has received complaints about your conduct here in Taerford,’ Obert began quietly with little prevaricating. ‘Serious ones about sheltering escaped serfs and not allowing another lord’s men free passage through your lands.’

  Giles tried to remain calm as he listened to the bishop. Obviously Lord Huard was unhappy that Giles was not respecting his wishes on how to handle the growing problem of managing serfs and villeins, and had appealed to the duke to force Giles into accepting his incursions onto Giles’s lands.

  ‘Since I played a small part in you gaining these lands, the duke thought I should be the one to investigate these charges.’ Obert glanced up at him. ‘The duke does not wish his nobles to be fighting amongst themselves when their enemies yet traverse England.’

  ‘I have little liking for Lord Huard or his methods, my lord,’ Giles admitted. ‘But, I have done my duty to the duke and have taken this keep and these lands, holding them as he ordered.’