by Glenda Diana
Arysa came to a stop in front of him. She smiled and held out her hand to him.
"Any second thoughts?" he murmured, enfolding her hands in his.
"Nay. Have you?"
"Never."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Leaning up on tiptoes, she brushed a soft kiss against his cheek.
"Madame, I await your pleasure," he murmured thickly and then smiled at the heated blush that covered her cheeks. Together they approached Thomas. "The vows that Thomas will read over us only takes a few minutes," he murmured. "If you have any questions, just ask me."
"I will."
Thomas cleared his throat and then smiled at Arysa. "Zebual, do you take Arysa to be the mate of your choosing? Do you promise that no matter what you will cling to her and only her? Do you, recognize and accept the responsibility such a union will cost? And last do you choose this woman over all others?
Zebual stared into Arysa's eyes as he stated in a clear voice, "I do."
Tears welled up in her eyes as she met Zebual's gaze.
"Arysa," Thomas said. "I'm asking you the same questions."
"I do," she replied in what she hoped was an equally clear voice.
"And so it is done." Thomas announced. "Seal the vows with a kiss."
Zebual gathered Arysa in his arms and pulled her close as his lips took possession of hers. If she had thought he was going to give her a chaste kiss in front of one and all, she was mistaken and relieved. She met his bold kiss with one of her own. As their lips separated, their eyes met and held. He whispered her name causing her heart to beat wildly. Raising her hands, she let her fingertips glide over his hollow cheeks as she returned his name in a soft whispery voice.
"All right," Justin said interrupting them. "The two of you will have to wait on seducing each other. You wouldn't want to embarrass Thomas, would you?"
Zebual narrowed his eyes. "I'm debating whether I should thank you for your interruption or throttle you."
"Definitely the first option," Justin teased. Turning, he smiled at Arysa and held out his hand. "You made a beautiful bride, yet again."
"I get a handshake?" she asked, with a lift of her brow.
Zebual gave a brief nod of his head that was noticed only by Justin. It was a silent approval. Justin gave Arysa a short, brief hug.
"Come along," Mrs. Reed called out. "I have dinner all laid out in the dining hall."
Arysa entwined her arm with Zebual's and leaned into him. "Are you sure you're up to it?" she whispered. "We can have dinner served upstairs, if you wish."
Zebual smiled down into her worried face. "I feel quite good today. We'll eat down here and then retire to our secluded haven upstairs."
A fine blush stole up her cheeks and she nodded her head. She wasn't sure how she was going to manage eating when all her thoughts were on the night ahead of them.
Long torches had been lit throughout the dining hall casting it in a glow of warmth and giving it an atmosphere of ancient times. The master table had been draped in a cloth of black and silver. Large silver goblets with matching plates decorated the top. There were bowls overflowing with fruit at each corner and at least a dozen platters that each contained a succulent cuisine to tempt everyone's palate.
Arysa wasn't sure how Mrs. Reed had accomplished so much, but she was thankful for such a loving gesture and all the hard work the dear lady had put forth making sure all was perfect for their joining feast. Giving Zebual's arm a gentle squeeze, she excused herself, whispering that she would be right back.
"Mrs. Reed," Arysa murmured, stepping up beside the older woman. "I want to thank you for all you've done, not just today, but everyday."
"Oh, lass. There's no need to thank me, I do it out of love."" Mrs. Reed opened her arms, her eyes welled up with tears when Arysa stepped forward and returned her hug. After a few moments, she sniffed lightly and released her hold on the younger woman. "Zebual is casting his scowls over this way. You best get back over to him and soothe the happy beast."
Arysa laughed and placed a kiss on her cheek. "You have my thanks and love."
Zebual leaned heavily on her when she was once again snuggled against his side. "Thank you," he whispered.
"For what?" Arysa asked, looking up at him in surprise.
"First, that was very kind of you to give Mrs. Reed our thanks and ... "
"And?" she asked when he paused.
Zebual gaze moved over her face. "And for hurrying back to my side," he murmured.
"There is no place else I would rather be."
"Everyone gather 'round," Justin called out clinking a knife against one of the silver goblets. "We all best hurry and enjoy the company of our Lord and Lady of the manor whilst we can. For I think our time with them this evening will be short indeed."
Arysa blushed and Zebual growled out an oath, while everyone else laughed.
"Best enjoy being the court jester whilst you can, my friend. Your existence is hanging by a very thin thread if one was to judge by Zebual's expression." Edmond called out.
"Aye, 'tis true." Zebual commented, as he led Arysa forward to their seats. "He does so well at being the jester, perhaps that should be his role everyday."
Justin gave a heavy sigh and shook his head in mock sorrow. "I would, but no one else will take my place as your dearest friend." He glanced over at Arysa and winked. "They all fear him," he whispered with a smile.
Arysa gave a soft laugh. "I don't blame them," she replied before turning to look at Zebual. "You are a fierce man," she murmured.
Zebual's body responded instantly to her provocative words. "Stop your teasing or I'll show everyone just how fierce I can be." His words were rewarded with a dusky blush that covered her cheeks. "Now let's get this meal over with as quickly as we can."
Arysa nodded her head in full agreement.
Thomas took another sip of his wine and leaned back in his seat. His large belly shook as he laughed. "Don't tell me that Zebual hasn't told you the legend of Connor and his Lady?" he asked, his gray brows rising as he looked at the man in question.
"Legend?" Arysa's gaze was also on her husband's. "He's told me very little of Connor or of any member of his family past or present."
"There's not much too tell," Zebual muttered. "As to present: What you see here at Syra is all the family I have."
"Ahhh, be fair, Zebual," Thomas chided. "Connor's story is as lovely as is it sad. I'm sure Arysa would like to hear at least some of the tale."
"Besides the fact that he was mean, and violent, and had the temper of the Devil."
Zebual frowned at Justin's laughter. He turned his light blue eyes on Arysa. She was his yet again ... body, heart and soul ... by her own admission. With their renewed vows he could finally begin the true healing. "Have you been telling on me?" he asked with a slight smile.
"No. I had asked Justin about Connor and he told me to ask you. I then informed him that you were not very giving in your description of Connor."
"And what makes you so curious about Connor?" he asked softly.
"I don't know. I look at the portrait of him and it ... "
"Continue." Zebual raised a brow in question.
Arysa shrugged slightly. "It ... it made me wonder if he and his Lady had any children."
She wasn't lying, but she wasn't telling the full truth. But then there was no need for her to speak the words.
"If he is supposedly my ancestor, reason would tell you that they did."
"Not necessarily," she replied, glad he didn't want further explanation. "You could be a nephew or a cousin to him."
"She has you there." Justin pointed out.
Zebual nodded. "Connor and his Lady were separated shortly after their marriage. There was no time for creating a child of their love. Or so the story goes."
"Separated? How?" she asked.
Zebual glanced over at Thomas and nodded.
Sitting forward, Thomas rubbed his hands together. "Connor and his Lady were from two different ... s
ocieties. When they fell in love and joined they became outcast of their clans. They also gained an enemy ... a dangerous man that wanted revenge.
"Within the short time Connor and his Lady were together they loved as few ever do. Each gesture or word that came from them was filled with this love. Those here at Syra reaped the rewards since they all lived in harmony. But along with this great love came the scorn of those that didn't understand the union between these two lovers. Together, Connor and his Lady stood strong against any that would attempt to tear them apart.
"Their enemy didn't wait to strike out in vengeance. The Lady was to be his, for it had been promised. On one shoulder he wore his jealousy and on the other his hate, both prodding him forward to destroy all of Syra. But Connor was a very clever man, the enemy warriors were held back to the outside borders of Syra only permitting the enemy himself to enter. Only two men fought the war that took place that day.
"The Lady was separated from Connor that day. Day by day the Lord of the Manor withdrew from the world and all that was living. He would spend days upon days in total solitude. Withering inside and out, dying a deteriorating slow death."
"How very sad," Arysa murmured, her gaze meeting those of Zebual's.
"A most tragic story, to be sure," Thomas commented, as he raised his goblet to his lips.
"Any white wolfs and ghostly mauve gowns in the legend?" Justin asked suddenly.
Thomas lowered the goblet slowly, looking from Justin's unflinching stare to Zebual's expression of boredom, then on to Arysa who was in the process of scowling at Justin. Apparently the lass didn't care for Justin's question, he thought with a slight smile. His gaze moved to the tapestry behind them. The white wolf stared down at him.
"I, ahhh ... " he paused as his gaze sought out Zebual's hoping that he would offer some kind of help, but he found none. Thomas wiped his brow on the linen napkin. "In some societies the white wolf is a symbol of many things. True love, valor, a soul waiting for release ... it may mean nothing. Are you sure you saw it?"
Arysa nodded. She could tell the conversation was upsetting Thomas by the way he continued to wipe the sweat from his brow. In fact the subject topic had gained everyone's attention and they were all staring at her to see what she would do next.
"Actually, the wolf and gown do not concern me any longer." She stated into the silence. "Whatever the reasons behind them, I care not. And if we by chance have ghosts, that too is not important, for they cause no harm.
Justin cleared his throat. "Arysa, I thought you told me you were in fear of losing your sanity?"
Arysa scowled. "In case you missed the subtle hint, Justin, I was trying to let the matter go."
Zebual glanced at Justin before turning his attention to Arysa. "Did you tell him that?"
"Yes, I did," she sighed. "Not in whole, but I have on more than one occasion wondered." Her heated gaze turned to Justin. "Remind me to never share my thoughts with you again. Apparently, your tongue grows loose when you sip wine."
"I'm wounded that you think so," Justin smiled.
"Not as wounded as I would like."
"Enough." Zebual stood and held his hand out for Arysa. "I'm sure all of you will excuse us. I fear I've stayed below stairs too long. I have a need to lie down and rest."
Arysa felt her face grow warm as she placed her hand in Zebual's. As they slowly made their way out of the dining hall she could practically feel the burning stares upon them.
"Not embarrassed, are you?"
"In a way," she murmured. "They all know what we'll be doing this evening."
"And that bothers you?" he asked, letting her lend her support to him as they climbed the stairs.
"Yes and no," she whispered.
"They know that we have made love before."
Arysa nodded her head and fought down her blush.
"I assure you, they won't think badly of you. If anything, they will wonder how such a beautiful woman as you could let someone like me make love you."
They had just reached the landing to the third floor. Arysa stopped and turned toward him. Her eyes moved over him, taking in each detail. The dark hairs on his head stood out in stark contrast with the white mane. His paper-thin skin seemed to have gained some color and some texture. The gleam in his light blue eyes had a look of intensity to them. Though his body was thin and weak in appearance, he was still a fine figure of a man. The healing that they had worked so hard toward was finally taking place.
"Nay, that's not at all what a healthy woman would be thinking. They would be envious of me ... envious of us," she whispered as her hands caressed his chest.
"If you continue to look at me in such a way while your hands are upon me, I won't be to blame for my actions."
Arysa smiled, moving closer to him. "Come, husband. Let's go to our room and you can growl at me all night long."
Zebual wrapped his arms around her and sighed when she moved closer yet. He inhaled her soft fragrance, wanting, wishing he could inhale all of her into himself. Then he would never have to worry about losing her, for she would always be with him.
Her hands moved over his back in caressing movements. "How does your stomach feel," she murmured against his chest.
"My stomach is fine. I didn't eat much. I have a hunger for something much more exquisite and more refined." Tipping his head down, he kissed the top of her ear. "I crave the taste of you upon my lips."
Arysa shivered at the deep sound of his words. Moisture pooled at the center of her core with the touch of his warm breath against her ear.
Slowly they moved down the hallway, pausing every few steps to stare at each other, touching without restraint, exchanging kisses that were hurried yet sensuously enticing. When they entered the master bedchamber, Zebual closed the door and leaned back against it. With his hands on her shoulder he indicated that he wanted her to turn around. Gathering her long black hair he laid it over her shoulder, smoothing his hand over it and her breast. One by one he released the buttons on her gown and then pushed it from her shoulders.
Arysa stepped out of the material and then bent to pick it up. She tossed it over the back of the nearest chest before turning back to face him. Zebual's eyes were dark with wanting. Wantonness swept over her. With his eyes upon her, she removed the rest of her clothing until she stood before him naked. Excitement charged through her blood.
She stepped to him, and with shaky fingers pulled his shirt loose from his trousers and undid the buttons. With a not-so-gentle shove she pulled both his shirt and jacket from him. The bones in his chest and ribs were visible. Her fingers played over them stopping every so often to tangle in the curly white/black hairs that covered his upper body. She heard the slight intake of air when her fingers brushed over his male nipples. A mischievous smile came to her lips as she leaned forward to brush her tongue over the hard nub. With her hands anchored to his narrow hips she moved to the next nipple, licking it gently before sucking it lightly into her mouth.
His body trembled as he tried to stand perfectly still giving her leave to explore him. Zebual closed his eyes and then realized what a mistake that was. With his eyes closed his other senses charged forward making him feel every breath that fanned against his chest, every brush of her skin and the way her hard nipples burned twin holes against his stomach.
Her hands found the fastening to his trousers and she quickly released it, pushing his pants downward. The heated long length of him sprang forward, nudging her with it's wanting. Slowly she went to her knees. The white/black hairs prickled the palms of her hands as she caressed his long legs.
Her hands stopped exploring when she found a smooth scar buried beneath the wiry hairs. Her heart faltered. The scar started at his left hip and curved downward to the middle of his leg. Where could a man like Zebual get such a severe wound? It was an old wound, but still it had to have hurt dreadfully when he received it. She raised her gaze and found his own eyes burning down at her. As if detecting her unasked question, he shook his head
letting her know that now was not the time to answer her. Without thought, she moved closer as her lips and tongue soothed over the long ago healed scar.
Moisture dampened his eyes and he fought to hold on to the emotions that pumped through every vein of his body, crying out to be heard, yet he silenced them. He thought he would go crazy with her teasing. He was damp with excitement and hurting with need. His world spun away at the feel of her lips upon him. He would never make it, he thought as his body began to tremble and shiver with his approaching release.
Arysa held him as the tremors slowed. Her cheek was nestled against the wiry hairs of his groin. She had pleased him and with that knowledge came the greatest satisfaction she had ever felt. The sound of her name had been pulled from him on a raspy breath that seemed to have lingered on the air surrounding them.
"Take me to bed, Arysa."
Lifting her head, she smiled up at him.
He helped her to her feet and then sighed in relief when she leant her strength to him. It seemed to take forever for them to reach the bed and forever before he was settled between her thighs driving her to the same madness in which she had driven him.
Throughout the night they made love twice more. In between, while their bodies lay sated, they simply held each other, touching without words. The only sounds that intruded were the sounds of their breathing, the beating of their hearts and the sighs of satisfaction. It was the most beautiful night that Arysa could remember and yet when the pre-dawn came she found herself being led back downstairs to her room.
Zebual had covered her nakedness with a soft white blanket from the bed. He even took the time to kiss her several times, whispering her name in such a way that her body heated anew. Then he had murmured that he would see her that evening. Arysa sat up in bed and watched in stunned silence as he walked through the door that connected their rooms and closed it. The sound of the lock turning was like a clap of thunder in her silent room.