Lady Trent

by GinaRJ

  “Would it not please you as well?” She asked him.

  “Of course,” he breathlessly answered. He pulled her to him and kissed her slow and gently and deeply. He held her even closer, and she was sure he would begin to make love to her at once.

  But he pulled her away, and did not act swiftly. “This you are sure of.”

  “Yes,” she assured, “with everything inside of me, Jacob, I am.”

  “Isn’t it your wish to be pure and untouched after I—“

  “—please, Jacob, let’s not speak of it. Not of your death. Not of my virtue, or even the keeping of it for the sake of my calling or of my honor in the case I wish to remarry. I do not care for any of those things, to think of them, not of my calling let alone remarrying, for I know now with everything inside of me that I will not love a man like this. I would not wish to be with any other. Only you.”

  He pressed a palm against the side of her face, spreading his fingers through her hair, stroking her ear. “I would rather have you as you are than to have you hate me in the end.”

  “I will not,” she said to him. “I promise.” And he could see so in her eyes that she truly meant what she was saying.

  He placed his hands to either side of her face. He kissed her. And she fell into him, allowing him to lower her onto the bed. And she was made love to for the first time by this man, her husband, whom she did love with all her heart.

  It was a beautiful experience, unlike anything she’d imagined. He was gentle with her, arousing passions that she did not know existed, ones that enveloped them, and shadowed over them, seeping inside and radiating, making them as one. She gave in to him completely, sometimes startled by her arousal and his touches, how very pleasurable. So perfect, so pure. How could anyone denounce such a thing? How had she?

  His caresses were tender but fervent. He stroked and embraced every inch of her body, exploring her gently but zealously, with his hands and his gentle strokes, with his lips, closing them over her naked flesh, exploring her body so that she quivered beneath his every touch. She could hear the sound of their breathing, uneven and harsh at times. And the sound of her name as he whispered, “Rachel, my dear Rachel.”

  Control. She’d had so much of it, yet here she was drowning, losing her mind and all control of herself. She was lost now in him, in this union that was meant to be in the first place, that was completely correct and innocent.

  He dropped kisses on her temple and her face and her lips. “Make me this promise,” he said hovering above her, his hands to either side of her, his manhood which she’d before noted, so strong and large, resting upon her most private place of all.

  Thru hazy, desirous eyes she studied him. She could barely breathe. She could barely speak. “What is it?” She managed to whisper, raising her hands to his strong shoulders.

  He swept his lips over hers, and she would have returned the kiss. He pulled away, stroking her hair with the tips of his fingers. “Promise me this, my dear Rachel, that you will not despise me or hate me.” Again he kissed her and pulled away, staring her deeply in the eyes with an intense, desirous stare, a dark stare…a lustful stare. “Promise me again.”

  “I promise,” she whispered to him. “I will love you and cherish you as always, and again and again, Jacob. I will not stop, I promise it. I will not hate you or myself.”

  Hearing this, he kissed her lips and said quietly, “As you have not been taken, you may feel pain. This pain I do not wish to cause you.”

  “I am already in pain.”

  “This,” he began, and stopped…saying nothing more.

  “Jacob,” she whispered, having this urge to lift herself to him.

  Her legs were parted, and his manhood hard against her. He rose above her, staring down upon her face, and he pushed himself against her, so that she felt he would enter her, but he had not. Her chest rose and fell, and their eyes stayed together. He watched her closely, and she him. She yet felt that urge to lift herself to him, but did not. He pushed again. A breath caught in her throat, for she felt him begin to enter her, and then a thrust…there was a sharp pain that coursed through her body. She trembled, a breath catching in her throat. He dropped a kiss on her lips, telling her, “I am sorry.”

  But the pain was gone so quick as it’d come. It was finished. Her virtue was lost, gone forever…lost to the man she loved.

  She rose up and kissed his lips, dropping her head back, her voice quivering as the desire to be completely united consumed her. She almost smiled at him as she said, “It is well, Jacob. It is well.”

  And he joined them together with his gentle thrusts…yes, thrust after thrust, together as one, consummating their marriage and their vows.

  But he retreated.

  She lifted her hips to him, telling him also with her voice to please not stop, to finish it—to rid her of the torment she had carried about; it seemed years.

  And he joined them together again, taking her hair in his hands, burying his face in it, and his thrusts became deeper and stronger so that she could hardly withstand them, rather the pleasure of this. A breath caught in her lungs as ripples of overwhelming sensations coursed thru her body. She panted and cried out, even saying his name as her entire body was consumed with pleasure. His breath, too, came out harsh and uneven, and he raised himself up to see her face, to run a thumb along her lower lips, watching until he could no longer keep his eyes opened. She, too, watched while his body shook with pleasure. Every tremble, every quiver of the breath and voice when he spilled his seed inside her, saying her name in a way she had never heard it said before.

  And it was finished.

  They lay in silence for a time, until he rose up to look at her, such love and pleasure in his eyes, such hope and happiness…these things were also quite visible in her own.

  He dropped a kiss on her temple, on her shoulder and her lips.

  “My Rachel,” he quietly claimed.

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Yours. I am yours, Jacob, and I’ll love you till death and beyond.”

  They dozed off for a time, only to awaken, making love even in their sleep, and again they did make love, joining together a second time. Again, they felt the piercing, overpowering, awe-inspiring climax of their lovemaking. Again, and she imagined again and again and again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The sound of hooves hitting the ground interrupted the serenity of the marketplace. People stopped to stare while several men on horseback passed by, one in front leading the way…Marcus, returning to the palace with a handful of men.

  “Sir Marcus.” Byron had ridden up alongside him, and spoke so that nobody else could hear. “Will you mention the maiden?”

  “No,” he abruptly replied, “and neither should you. None of these are aware. The emperor asks it be kept secret.”

  Yes, he was returning from a journey into the Northern Isles and from the Commons where he’d visited the emperor and discussed the situation concerning Victor’s sudden appearance in Orland, and Roselyn whom yet remained detained under the guardianship of the emperor and his guards. Marcus had sent a message along with the guards who had done as instructed, and transferred her secretly, telling nobody of their mission or even of their whereabouts.

  She had been questioned. Victor had as well. Soon after, according to one of Marcus’s own spies, the man had fled into Roark. Even upon making this known, Roselyn would not speak. Not even a yea or nay. After so many weeks of imprisonment, she had turned cold, refusing to speak at all, and claimed she would die a silent victim.

  Despite it all, Marcus had also called upon skilled builders to travel to his place in the Southern Plains to join those he’d originally hired to see to it the construction of his manor house was properly and speedily conducted. With one he also sent a message so as to avoid any confusion or conflict, telling them to welcome the newcomers, to work together, and promising them a very hefty wage.

  There were also other matters, ones he never spoke of to anyone other
than those involved, and they were many. There was one in charge of this secret mission which had gone on for many years, one that he would not part his lips, only to the one…the trustworthy man named Galivar who’d been overseeing the secret mission for several years now.

  Before the palace they all dismounted their horses, which were immediately taken away by Linus and his helpers. Those with him went their separate way to the quarters meant for such men as them alongside the palace where they would bathe, eat and rest. Marcus made his way inside, the guards simply greeting him as he passed by.

  There was one issue he wished to discuss with Jacob, so he went in search of him. He luckily came across Percival who adequately kept up with the whereabouts of everyone in the palace—especially Jacob.

  “Is he here or away tending to another matter?”

  “He is here, sir, but does not wish to be disturbed.”

  “Is he well?”

  “Yes, he, um…” He stopped, seeming a whole lot uncertain. Marcus watched while a blush gradually spread across his face. “He is, um, simply not to be disturbed, sir.”

  Marcus stared intently upon him before turning away and taking the direction of his private quarters. Suddenly things he’d once meditated upon, that he’d tucked back to some safe place in his mind resurfaced. Percival’s words repeated themselves, and his expression resurfaced. Marcus could see as if the man was still standing there directly before him.

  He came across a lone spinster whom was going about her way with a basket of clothing or material, he could not tell which…and it truly did not matter.

  “Summon the maiden,” he told her, “Zaria, to prepare my bath.”

  She nodded quickly once and again, shyly and hardly looking at him. Having made the demand he made his way inside his quarters, slamming the door behind him, and yanking everything he carried with him away recalling those words, recalling the blushing of Percival’s cheeks. Something he could not recall having ever witnessed in the many years he’d known the man.

  ******

  The days that passed after that first night were very wonderful, exotic and satisfying. Rachel had never felt so alive and happy and, well, womanly in all her life. That first night repeated itself…in the morning, the day, evening—didn’t matter. She had not a clue the extent of lovemaking. Jacob certainly revealed to her a world she had not imagined, a part of her she had not known existed, nor would have been possible without him. With each time they made love, she felt all the freer to expose and express her own desires, and to react upon them in any way she wished. It was a beautiful thing, which she now regretted having put off for so long. There’d been no point. It would have been well all along. But perhaps she’d needed that space of time to adapt even to the simple feelings of love and attraction prior the event of their actual consummation.

  She and Jacob were now lovers, peering at one another over the rims of glasses and the heads of people, across rooms and side by side as he sat the one day of the week to judge the matters of his realm, and the cases of numerous many prisoners that’d been left ignored over the weeks. He would occasionally pat her on the behind in passing, secretly so as to not make a spectacle, and she found herself doing the same on an occasion, surprising even herself. This was certainly an exciting phase of her life, having this intimacy with the man she loved, Jacob, who was an exceptional lover at that.

  Now, Zaria was quite the observant young damsel. She quickly noticed the difference in the two of them—utmost her mistress, and being outspoken as she was did not hesitate to mention it one day while Rachel prepared herself to stand in while Jacob dubbed a mature squire, knight. This was an occasion to not take lightly, she’d come to learn. It was taken as seriously as that of having one take the Sacred Vows. She supposed it was well. After all, these were the young men who would go on to secure the peace and safety of their land, those who would become nobles or guards, soldiers and troops. These were those who protected the land from opposing armies and enemies, who even intimidated other countries from overstepping their boundaries and daring to attempt overthrowing the emperor.

  Zaria was humming quietly to herself while Rachel slipped into her full gown. While the maiden began fastening the back of it, she said, “Was I not correct in saying Lord Trent would be an exceptional lover?”

  Rachel did not scold her this time. She simply smiled. “He is a magnificent lover,” she agreed. “How were you so sure of it?”

  “He does have this way about him that makes one think so. Also you must remember, milady, I have been in service here over three years now. During the time he was not wed, well, he was known to bed a damsel on occasion, some of whom could not keep quiet about the goings-on in the bedchamber. Such things are usually not discussed amongst the palace maidens. Only some I imagine were compelled by pride.”

  This idea of him doing the exact things he had done with her with any other woman placed some heavy, eerie stone in her heart. She could feel it weighing her down. Jealousy? Of course. But why? Such things were in the past and had nothing to do with her.

  “I wonder if he strayed from his other wives.”

  “From the second? Not that I know of—only after her death. Now the first, if those with loose tongues are truthful, was a different story. He bedded many, so I have heard. But he was young, still. Since you came into the Great City…well, there have been no others. Otherwise I would certainly have heard.”

  “What sort did he choose?” She came to ask.

  “During events in the Great Hall they are quite simple to locate.”

  “I have noticed those who prance and attempt to lure him vary a great deal in appearance if nothing else.”

  “They are all the same in this: that he did not care about them…not in the slightest. Women to be used as they had been used before, acquainted with the ways of lovemaking. I imagine he has taken great delight in guiding you in the way of passion.”

  Thinking of the truth to the statement, she smiled with satisfaction.

  Zaria laughed very quietly. “You should know by now, milady, that he desires no woman but you, and will have no other. I do believe not only I but every other in the realm and beyond by now certainly know he is not an available man…not at all.”

  A space of silence fell. She found herself considering Marcus who had returned a few days before, and who had avoided her, it seemed, on purpose. In fact, she rarely saw him at all. She recalled the magnetism between him and this maiden, Zaria who was attractive in her own right, and had expressed some intimate interest in Marcus. Before she could even bite her tongue, she said, “Sir Marcus is to be wed. Had you heard?”

  “If there’s any news to be spread, milady, trust me…I will hear of it. If not on my own, well, Percival and I do get along. But yes I know. I heard it from Sir Marcus, himself.”

  “Oh?” Her gaze went to the ceiling while the maiden’s hands continued to fasten the back of her gown. “Then you finally made it into his bed,” she guessed.

  “Twas not such a difficult task, milady. I seduced him—not that he wasn’t seducing me all along as well with those handsome, seductive eyes of his. He is a very gifted lover, I must say. He does know how to please a woman.”

  Rachel tried not to suck in the deep breath of air her lungs instantly seemed to require, and she tried to get the visual out of her mind, for it disturbed her. Everything about the man always did. But this was by far the most disturbing thought of all.

  “He said little about this woman. I do not think he loves her. But his land, now this he loves, and his dream of building his own realm, so to speak. The emperor would let him do as he chooses. If he rules as well as he makes love, I imagine he will become the greatest noble in all New Ebony after the passing of Lord Trent. Not to mention it, milady. I imagine many years lie ahead of him. Who knows? He may be the very one to outlive them all. Nonetheless, I requested a place in this manor house of his. He seemed delighted by the idea, and agreed to it.”

  “Then you wil
l leave here?”

  “There is still a matter of time, milady. And yes, I will miss you as well.”

  She stared out into nowhere before saying, “Then you and he shall be lovers.”

  “Until he tires of me,” she shrugged, “which will certainly happen with time. Yes, there will be much opportunity for him to stray, I imagine, just as with any noble, especially one so, um, well, hmm, how does one truly describe Marcus Wren. He is dashing by nature. But I am not one to compete for the sake of a man’s affections. When it ends, it shall end.”

  “But he will be married. Zaria, surely you would not resume an affair with a married man. It would not be fair to her.”

  “Some ladies are thankful as they do not wish to be troubled by their husband’s demands.” She shrugged. “They welcome such companionship. Not in the open, mind you, they simply turn another direction and act to pay no mind. Then again, this lady, she may prove herself desirable, capable of pleasing him. She is likely a virgin. Perhaps she will become a good lover. Perhaps he will eventually fall in love with her. For the sake of them both, I hope it.”

  “Then where will you go?”

  “I have not thought so far ahead.”

  “You speak as if there’s no meaning to your life at all, Zaria”

  “I am a drifter, milady. I do not stay in one place any longer than three years. Only this time because of you. You interested me so that I stayed when I had considered taking myself elsewhere.”

  “I am glad you stayed,” she found herself saying. “You have been a great help. I would much rather you stay and not go. But if you ever find yourself in need of a place...you must come back.”

  “Tis still a while longer till he weds. You will adapt. Another will take my place—they always do. Just as another will take Marcus’s place. Lord Trent will adapt—he always does.”