by Tualla, Kris
He exploded.
The bedchamber disappeared in a shower of starlight. His awareness condensed to a pulsating ball of pleasure that dissolved his limbs. His body evaporated, along with his awareness of anything but his intimate physical connection with her intense sensuality.
His body covered hers; he was unable to move. She was vibrating again and he wondered what sounds she made. She ran her fingernails across his back and down his arms. A shudder wracked him, the combined remnant of his climax and response to her continuing touch. He wanted to look at her, to kiss her again and to hold her.
But he couldn't compel his body to stir even one inch away from this woman, his wife.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Regin needed to piss. The notion of leaving the soothing warmth of Brander's body curving around her was strong incentive to stay where she was. She tried to go back to sleep though it proved a lost battle. Her cruel bladder was forcing her -- naked -- into the cold predawn room.
Her feet hit the floor and she hugged herself in an attempt to keep warm while she tiptoed quickly to the chamber pot. As soon as she finished, she hurried back to the bed, her skin chilled and dimpling. Brander didn't seem to wake; he just snugged himself against her. His breath caught in her hair and warmed the back of her neck.
Her quim was tender after their two bouts of energetic lovemaking. Well, it was three for her if she counted the climax he unexpectedly sparked with his tongue. Never -- never -- had she peaked so many times in such quick succession.
To be fair, in all their years of marriage Thorlak wasn't as conscientious a lover as Brander was last night. The attention her new husband paid to every inch of her body had driven her outside herself. She felt wanton, demanding that he satisfy the urges he roused in her.
He complied quite willingly, she thought, making a very good start at the physical side of marriage.
She shifted a little and pressed her bottom against his groin. It wasn't that she hoped he'd wake and take her again. She just liked the intimacy of resting against him. One muscled arm flopped over her and a large fist tucked between her breasts. Brander pulled a long breath and exhaled with a soft, deep-voiced rumble.
He makes sound in his sleep, she mused. After their journey together, she knew he snored. Like a stuck bear. She hadn't expected something so tender as the rumbly sigh that just tickled her ear.
He made sound during sex, as well.
Those sounds didn't sound like a regular voice; there was no tone to them and they weren't smooth. They were rough grunts, originating in his chest and bursting out in unintentional coughs. They were loud, awkward, and beautiful.
Those noises were more intimate than any of the touching. And Brander trusted her enough to let them out. She believed she truly could trust him with her life.
She loosed a smile in the dark. That's a good thing, now that we're wed.
Stretching a little, she tried to find sleep again but it eluded her. Too much had happened in the last day and a half and she hadn't time to think about any of it. Now visions rushed over her and chased away dreams with reality.
The first being she switched husbands in the midst of her wedding. She was still a little stunned by that. Not sorry -- not in the least bit -- but stunned. She had given up hope.
And Brander would receive a title? She might even be elevated above Baroness if their king was particularly generous. And not only was Kildahlshus saved, but Brander would receive land of his own from King Frederick IV himself!
The silent man lying beside her spent the last eight years of his life trying to prove to his father that he was worthy to receive what was denied him. What he earned in that effort was twofold in value.
Regin's throat thickened with pride. Brander was a dignified gentleman, educated, privileged, raised in luxury. Yet he chose to live in a garret and forsook the comforts that his family's resources could provide. His purpose was that much a part of him.
Light crept around the window hangings, soft and gray as if afraid to disturb her. The chamber door clicked open. A servant boy, laden with firewood, knelt by the hearth and resurrected the fire. Regin closed her eyes, not wanting to be found awake. She felt heat brush her cheeks before the heavy door scraped shut.
Brander's bristled chin rooted through her hair, found her neck and he kissed her. She turned to regard him over her shoulder. In the firelight, his eyes were gray. With arms buried under the blankets he couldn't talk to her, but the intensity of his gaze asked the question.
"Yes, you made noise," she whispered.
His brow rippled.
"Yes, a lot."
He looked toward the fire, his expression somber. Regin wiggled one hand out from the covers and stroked the dark copper sprouts on his cheek. He blinked slowly then slid his gaze back to hers.
"Husband, I have never been loved so well, nor with such passion," she said. "Every moment was bliss. I would not wish it any other way."
He tilted his head.
"Yes, I mean it! Every groan of yours blew on the fire in my belly until I thought I'd die of the thrill."
One dubious eyebrow lifted.
She pinched his chin. "Careful, husband, or I'll force you to do it again to prove my point."
Brander shrugged, his mouth twisting in a half smile. Regin giggled -- with that rakish expression he looked like a dangerous pirate, his loose curls brushing his shoulders and morning whiskers shadowing his chin.
The hand nestled between her breasts was on the move.
She rolled onto her back and happily gave herself to him again.
October 27, 1720
Breakfast appeared in their room two hours later. Regin wrapped herself in the dressing gown and settled close to the fire. Bare-chested, Brander prowled around the room in his trousers and boots while Regin enjoyed the view. His tall body moved with grace and silence, even in the leather boots. When he settled across the tray from her, she served him a plate heaped with food.
Thank you.
You are welcome. I love you.
He grinned. The beauty of his smile lit up her soul: I love you, too.
He reached for her hand and gestured single handedly: And you cannot know how much.
She kissed his big rough knuckles and rubbed them against her cheek. "What will we do now?" she asked.
The smile faded. Brander glanced toward the window and Regin's eyes followed the same path. The cold morning was hazy and white. He leaned over and picked up his wallet from the floor where it fell when he undressed last night.
He wrote: I don't live here.
She nodded: I know.
I must go to Christiania and claim my reward.
"Of course."
The journey must be made quickly. Winter is nearly on us.
She nodded again. "Will you continue to practice your trade? Or will Lord Olsen be put to rest?"
He shrugged: Perhaps Niels will wish to continue.
"And you?"
I'll decide once I know what I'll receive as my reward.
"That does make sense."
He leaned closer and pinned her with his intensity.
What do you want to do, wife?
"Truthfully?"
Always.
"I want to go home. To Hamar. With you."
A Discreet Gentleman of Matrimony
Coming August 2012
About Kris Tualla
Kris Tualla, a dynamic award-winning and internationally published author of historical romances, writes with a fast-paced and succinct style. Her plots are full of twists, passion, and very satisfying outcomes! Kris started in 2006 with nothing but a nugget of a character in mind, and has created a dynasty.
"In the Historical Romance genre, there have been literally countless kilted warrior stories told. Well, I say it's time for a breath of fresh hero! Come along and find out why: Norway IS the new Scotland!"
http://www.KrisTualla.com
creet Gentleman Book One: A Discreet Gentleman of Discovery