Escorted through the night back to the now familiar scarlet-and-gold pavilion, Eloise sighed as the dimness enveloped them. Montisfryn led her to the side of the bed. She was about to turn, to go into his arms, when he stayed her, his hands firm about her waist. He stood behind her; she felt his breath, then his lips, touch her ear.
“Did you take note of the king, lady?”
“Nay.” She smiled dreamily. “Did he say anything to the point?”
“He was displeased to learn of your unattended flight, as was I. Tis a matter we must settle ere we go further.”
There was a note in his voice that suddenly made concentrating easy.
“Nay.” She spoke slowly, her mind rapidly marshaling her defense. “I’ve already agreed to take an escort with me should I venture beyond your castle walls.”
“Aye, so you agreed—yet were you alone when you rode up before Claerwhen. How explain you that, lady?”
She grimaced. “Twas a difficult case, lord. I acted as I thought best. I could not take an escort—you must see that.” When, standing silent in the darkness behind her, he said nothing, she asked, “Would you have me not act, even when I feel I should?”
“Nay—all I ask is that you take an escort should you leave my walls, and that you do not venture forth without leaving word of your destination.”
Her breath came more easily—at least she’d left a note. “But what of your commanders, lord? There are times they might not understand my reasons for riding forth.”
“Aye, very likely.” Alaun’s lips twisted as he drew her back against him. “I will give orders that, should I be absent, you are to be provided with an escort of whatever size my commander thinks suitable for your venture, but otherwise you are answerable only to me for your actions.”
She relaxed against him, her head on his shoulder, one hand stealing up to touch his cheek.
He slanted a glance at her. “But in return, lady, I would have your solemn vow not to ride alone again. Ever.”
In the shadows, her eyes met his.
Eloise smiled. As far as he was able, he was offering her total freedom. “You know I will not. Ever.” She tilted her face up and back, inviting his kiss. He took her lips in a slow, easy caress, then lifted his head, still holding her firmly before him.
In silence, he looked down at her; she felt her heart thud. “Lord?”
“We now have to deal with your punishment, lady.”
She looked forward. She was leaning against him; his hands at her waist held her gently. Slowly, her lips curved. “And what is that to be, lord?”
Alaun heard the assurance in her voice, and smiled, too. “There are many who would say that your willful acts justify my taking my hand to your rear.”
He felt her chuckle.
“Nay—but your hand is frequently on my rear, lord.”
He tightened his hands about her waist and blew gently in her ear. “Should I beat you, lady?”
“Nay, twould not benefit either of us.”
“Aye, so I think. I have it in mind that a different form of chastisement would best suit us.”
Eloise was intrigued. “And what is that?”
“There are three parts to your punishment.” He bent his head; his lips traced the line of her throat. “Do you remember the fantasy I had you enact for me outside Gloucester?”
She shivered. “Aye.” How could she not? Just the thought of what he had done sent warm flushes through her.
“Tomorrow, you will be my wife in truth—twill henceforth be your duty to play that role in all my fantasies.” The hands at her waist shifted, drifting upwards until each cupped a breast. Long fingers unerringly closed about her nipples. “Whenever and wherever I decree.” His breath fanned her check. “As frequently as I wish.”
She had to moisten her lips before she could speak. “You have more fantasies?” Her body arched lightly as his fingers played.
“Hundreds.”
His hands went to her lacings, swiftly undoing them. She had to concentrate to control her voice. “And what else must I do?”
“You must dutifully inform me of any fantasies you have.”
Lifting her arm, he started on the buttons closing her sleeves. She studied his face, the clean, hard planes, the wide forehead. “In words?”
He met her gaze. His lips curved. “Not necessarily. But you must make your meaning—the full breath and scope of your vision—clear.”
She nodded. “What else?”
He didn’t answer immediately, apparently too engrossed in helping her from her clothes. Only when she stood naked, breathing too fast, her skin set alive by all the subtle, delicate caresses he’d bestowed along the way, only then did he come to stand before her, placing his hands once more about her waist.
His gaze, golden and smoldering, locked with hers.
Then he smiled, somewhat crookedly. “Tis in my mind that you’ll have punishment enough in bearing my sons, lady. They are likely to be large.” He glanced down, letting one hand sculpt the trim lines of her belly and hips. “And you are not so very big.”
“Nay, lord.” She pressed close. Reaching up, she laid her fingers on his lips. “Never ask me to look on the bearing of your babes with anything other than joy.” Stretching up, she replaced her fingers with her lips. His arms closed around her, gently at first, then they tightened as desire took hold.
When she eventually drew back, his eyes were ablaze.
Alaun closed his eyes and touched his lips to her forehead. “I am glad to hear you say so, lady, for tis a punishment you will not escape.”
His words were soft, gentle; he wondered how she interpreted them. He took her lips again, and her mouth, his hands roaming her curves with proprietorial candor. She gave of herself freely, as she always did. Abruptly, he drew back and wordlessly urged her to the bed.
Eloise went readily. She slipped beneath the furs, then lay back and watched him undress. Muscles rippled beneath his tanned skin, the long line of back, buttocks, and legs smooth as a sculptor’s wish. He was a golden god—and he was hers. Her lips curved as he joined her.
Stretching out beside her, Alaun looked down at her face, features soft, full of love. She didn’t know—she did not keep track of the days. His hands found her; she murmured, reaching for him. For an instant, he held back, wondering whether to prompt her. Then he smiled—and bent his head to kiss her. Let her surprise him with her news.
Eloise went eagerly into his embrace, her body seeking his even as his sought hers. She—they—had triumphed; tonight would be their celebration. He had said more than she had ever hoped to hear; she wouldn’t care did he never say the words again, just as long as he showed her—frequently.
He seemed fascinated with her belly, tracing its contours as if gauging the possibilities. She smiled.
“You’ve met William, lord?” She murmured the question, her lips against his ear. “My mother had the same build as I. I doubt not that I will bear your sons easily.”
Alaun glanced at her face, one brow rising. “I would not announce that with such confidence, lady, else Edward thinks I’ve been too lenient with you.”
The smile that curved her lips was unutterably, heart-stoppingly feminine. “Nay—tis easy enough to compensate.” Her lids veiled her eyes. “Tis simply a matter of making your fantasies more frequent, more…demanding.” Her gaze fixed on his lips.
Inwardly, he groaned; desire surged.
She felt it—she reached up and drew his head to hers. Her lips claimed his; their flames flared high. She arched against him, inciting, inviting his possession, her legs tangling with his as she artfully writhed.
He pressed her back to the bed; he would have covered her, but she stayed him, pushing him back, one hand on his chest, her witchy smile on her lips.
“Nay, lord.” She turned to come up on her knees before him. “Come—plant your seed deeply, as do your stallions.” She glanced over her shoulder; her eyes gleamed. “Long, strong—and very slow.�
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He shut his eyes. Groaned aloud. What could he say?
Shaking his head, he opened his eyes—and without further ado, obeyed.
EPILOGUE
Montisfryn Castle
July in the 23rd Year of our Sovereign Lord, Edward III (1349)
“Tis done.” With a satisfied sigh, Eloise shut the lid of the chest of baby clothes she and Jenni had been sorting.
“I will get Bilder to move it to the nursery when he returns, lady.”
“Aye.” Eloise smiled at her little robin, not so little now. Swollen with her first child, Jenni’s cheeks were still rosy, but she’d lost the ability to flit.
A commotion—distant shouting—intruded on their peace. Eloise frowned. “What is that racket?”
Moving to the window, she leaned out, but her view of the private gardens and the river and forests below told her nothing. Then, from around the corner of the keep, came the sound of men’s voices, and the stamping and snorting of horses. A thrill shot through her, down to her toes. “Jenni…?” Then she recalled she could no longer ask Jenni to run down to the keep steps.
“Aye, lady?”
“Nay, never mind.” Ears straining, her pulse quickening, she caught the sound she was waiting for. She glanced at the child lying sprawled on the hearthrug.
The afternoon sun slanted through the window to burnish tumbled golden locks. Her son lay sweetly oblivious, one thumb jammed in his mouth, long lashes casting crescent-shadows on his downy cheeks. Although swathed in puppy fat, the long limbs and heavy bones of his sire were already discernible.
The door burst open. Montisfryn strode in.
He halted inside the threshold, his gaze transfixing her. His strongly cast features told her little, but the glow in his eyes was unmistakable.
He turned to dismiss Jenni; a knowing smile on her face, the robin was already at the door.
Eloise reached him as the latch fell.
“I didn’t expect you,” she finally managed to gasp, when he released her lips to pay homage to her breasts. “Not for days.”
“There were fewer problems than I anticipated. We rode back through the forests.” Alaun drew back to survey the bounty he’d recently reclaimed from his son. “There’s a fine boar and a stag for your larders, lady.” He grinned. “And some plump pigeons as well.”
Her breath hissed in as his thumbs caressed the sensitive peaks of her breasts. She shook her head. “Tis not food I am hungry for, lord. Think you, I have been without sustenance for more than a week.”
He laughed. “And what of me, lady? My fire has been untended for just as long.”
Dark eyes glowed from under heavy lids. “Come, then, husband—and let me quench your flame.”
Husband. He closed his eyes and savored the word, even as her knowing fingers savored him. When she’d razed his defenses and added her torch to his blaze, he gathered her close; his lips on hers, he backed her to the bed. He lifted her, laying her on the scarlet coverlet, then glanced at his heir. “Will he wake?”
“Nay.” She stretched languorously and held out her arms. “He’s only just gone down. We should have an hour or so before the little tyrant awakes.”
“Ah, well.” He smiled lazily down at her. “Twill have to be quick, then.”
It was not, of course, for they knew well how to savor the timeless moments, to stretch the brief minutes of glory, to give, and take, and give again, until they lost themselves wholly. Completely.
Later, content to his marrow, Alaun reclined against the pillows. He was naked; equally naked, Eloise lay curled in his arms. About them, the sheets and covers had been reduced to a froth of white linen and scarlet silk. Their clothes lay like so many discarded leaves, littering the floor.
But the storm had abated; peace reigned about them, the golden afternoon rich and replete. His gaze rested on his son; he had yet to become inured to the fascination of their creation.
Eloise wriggled in his arms, pressing her ivory curves more fully into his loins. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Tis just as well he’s a sound sleeper.”
She blushed and slanted him a haughty glance. “I am not that loud.”
“Aye, you are.” He blew gently in her ear. “But tis a wondrous sound, that of a lady-witch in ecstasy.”
She blushed even more, then narrowed her eyes at him. “If you do not stop teasing me, I shall be quiet.”
He couldn’t stop his laugh. “Like the night before we were wed?” Her cheeks were now rosier than Jenni’s. He cuddled her close and whispered in her ear, “I did tell Edward you had tried most valiantly to spare his sensibilities when he complained the next morn.”
Horrified, Eloise stared at him. “You didn’t?”
He answered with his lazy lion’s smile.
Thoroughly discomposed, she humphed—and snuggled deeper into his arms.
Even now, nearly two years later, she could recall the events surrounding her second marriage with crystal clarity. The sheer happiness of that time was something that would remain with her forever.
“What are you smiling at?”
She glanced up, into glowing golden eyes. They showed his emotions so clearly—passion, desire, anger, fury, and every nuance between—strong, powerful emotions, each had their particular shade. Love filled his eyes now, deep and tender—the purest gold.
Her smile deepened. All her dreams had come true.
“I was thinking of our wedding. Twas a good time, lord.”
“Aye, and we’ve been blessed with many good times since.”
His gaze shifted to their son. She grinned. “Strange. At the time, you seemed very much in two minds over whether you had overdone my punishment.”
He shuddered and closed his eyes. “Nay—do not remind me. I am not looking forward to your next time.” Even as he said the words, his hand curved about her gently rounded belly. Her next time was seven months away.
She smiled, but didn’t laugh. Her confinement had shaken him badly; it was the first and only time she had seen him distraught, defeated, weak.
“I do not like seeing you in pain, lady.”
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Tis not so bad. And I would not forego it if it meant foregoing the result.” Her gaze brimming with maternal pride, she surveyed her first-born. “He’s growing well, is he not?”
“Aye. We’ll have him a warrior in no time.”
She frowned. “Tis my belief, lord, that he should learn his letters before he learns to wield a sword.”
“Nay, lady. He is warrior-born and bred.”
“Aye—and at barely one, his favorite sport is riding atop your destrier. I do not believe you need encourage him to knightly pursuits, lord.”
Naturally, he took that as a compliment, smiling delightedly. She shook her head and gave up.
He gathered her close, resettling her in his arms. “I have been thinking that we should visit Versallet Castle—perhaps next month? We have not seen your family for well-nigh a year, and I will not have you traveling once you are big with child.”
Her head on his shoulder, she gazed at the scarlet canopy. Her family had visited shortly after Robert’s birth. “Julia’s with child—did I tell you?”
“William will be pleased. And relieved. Tis high time.”
Wriggling around, Eloise chuckled. “Nay—tis usually so in my family. Twas why I was so surprised at our own good fortune.”
Alaun managed to still his twitching lips, but his eyes betrayed him.
Eloise frowned, and settled her elbows on his chest. “Now what is so funny in that?”
“Nay, lady—do not ask. But your news inclines me even more to visit with your father.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
He smiled. “Tis merely a matter of assessing the outcome of the wagers he and I engaged in. Tis my belief I’ve had the best of the exchange.”
“How so?”
When he lay smiling smugly upward and said nothing, she prodded his
chest.
He grimaced and absentmindedly caught her hand. “You recall that, on the occasion of your first marriage, your father won a Montisfryn stallion from me?”
“Aye.”
He shifted his gaze, trapping hers. “And at our next crossing, I won you from him.”
“So?”
“Your father could never breed the champions he desired from that Montisfryn stallion, because he lacked the right mares to hold the seed. I, on the other hand, came away with a de Versallet wife who demonstrably holds my seed to good effect.”
She grabbed a bolster and thumped him mercilessly. Laughing, he defended himself, then captured her hands, holding her above him to watch as she tried to glare through her laughter.
“I do not appreciate being likened to a mare, regardless of how much you may fancy yourself a stallion.”
“Oh?” He let his eyes go round. “But, lady, tis you who most frequently use the terms. When I speak of mares and stallions, tis actual horses to which I refer.”
She would have hit him again had he let her. Instead, laughing softly, he spread his arms until she collapsed on his chest. Their lips found each other’s without conscious direction for a long, easy caress. She pulled her hands free of his and used them to frame his face; he wrapped his arms about her and the kiss went on and on.
When, eventually, she raised her head, he arched a brow at her. “Anyway, tis my memory, lady, that you once said, in this bed, that you would be anything I wished.”
Eloise looked down at him, her dark eyes radiant. “I’ll be anything you wish—your wife, your lover, your partner, your helpmate.” Her eyes softened, searching his. “A mare on which you may get your champions. I care not, lord—as long as I have you.”
Golden fire reached for her and held her close.
“Forever, lady-witch.”
Author’s Note
I have always been fascinated by medieval life. Steeped as I have been for the past 40 years in Regency-era England, I found the contrast represented by medieval life intriguing. If the Regency era is the modern era stripped of technology, then the mid-medieval period is the Regency era stripped of all creature-comforts, a time in which there existed even fewer distractions from the emotional crises of life, and even thinner veils of civilization behind which such clashes were screened. All the most powerful emotions—passion, desire, anger, greed, and all the others—are closer to the surface, more raw, more intense.
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