Never had he known such joy with a woman before; never had he realized what satisfaction and completion might be attained in joining with the one who was, and would ever be to him, all beloved. He had selfishly thought to find a measure of peace in seeking Sofia out this night, and instead had discovered a truth that had shattered his very soul. Aye, she had given him peace, and a reprieve from his demons. But she had done far more, as well.
She had loved him. Not only in the physical sense, but with all of herself. It was as if he had finally realized the truth of it for the very first time. Sofia loved him.
Why she loved him or how such a miracle had occurred was beyond his understanding; whether he deserved it was a consideration he wouldn’t let himself think of—certainly not now. But one thing Kayne did know: he would never take such love for granted. It was far too precious and rare a treasure.
Sofia stirred within his embrace, sighing in slumber, and resettled herself more comfortably. The slight movement caused her smooth buttocks to press against his manhood, and Kayne reacted accordingly. Within but moments he was fully aroused.
He tried to control himself, to keep from touching her or pushing his traitorous member searchingly against her, but his body refused to obey. Her skin was soft and warm beneath his callused hands, even softer beneath his lips. His fingers curled over the curves of her breasts, stroking until the nipples hardened at his touch, arousing him further. His mouth found the silky skin of her neck and shoulder, where he placed small, nipping kisses which he smoothed over with his tongue.
Sofia began to moan softly as she climbed out slumber, responding with sweet, sleepy murmuring to his caresses. But he knew the moment she came fully awake when she stiffened and drew in a sharp breath.
His manhood was pressed fully against her from behind, needy and seeking, and he could feel panic rigidly possessing every inch of her by increasing degrees.
“Sofia,” he said gently, smoothing his hands soothingly over her flesh, “trust me, love. I’ll never hurt you. Trust me.”
Her breathing was heightened, and her body taut with fear, and Kayne resolutely set out to dispel the cruel memories that haunted her.
“This is but one of many ways that a man and woman may find pleasure together,” he murmured, continuing to kiss and caress. “Let me love you this way, Sofia. Let me…”
Slowly she began to respond to his touch, her limbs taking on a different manner of tension, yet pliant to his coaxing. He pulled one of her legs to lie over his own, and moved nearer until she could feel the probing of his manhood and understand what he meant to do. He wetted the tip of himself inside her warm, slick passage, and heard her sharply indrawn breath.
“Aye, that is how we will be joined, love,” he said, desire mounting as she pressed her hips against him, arching to receive more of him inside her. “But not yet, Sofia. Not yet.”
“Kayne,” she murmured, pleading.
“Soon,” he promised, caressing the shell of her ear with his tongue and the warmth of his breath. “You must be full ready. I want to give you every pleasure.”
His fingers slid downward to find the delicate place between her legs, and so very gently and carefully teased and fondled, drawing shivers and moans from her that delighted him utterly. She was wet with moisture and heated with passion before he at last gave way to her entreaties.
“Aye, my love,” he whispered, pushing into her ready passage. “Now we will be one.”
Sofia threw her head back as he came into her, making a low noise of pleasure and relief. Kayne responded with equal gratification as her heat and softness enfolded his rigid flesh. He pushed firmly, surely upward, filling her with all of himself, and she pressed down on him hard, demanding, and taking, even more.
They moved together, joined in an ageless, perfect rhythm, uttering wordless pleasure sounds until they came at last, together, to the crest. Kayne shuddered and poured himself into Sofia’s trembling body, thrusting hard and fast and deep, answering her shaking cry with a loud, unbridled groan that was filled with the unutterable sensations he felt.
Long moments later, they lay together, spent and replete, still joined in body. Kayne’s hands moved in long, lazy strokes over Sofia’s heat-dampened skin, caressing, soothing. He thought perhaps she slept, so still and relaxed did she lie, but at length she turned her head backward, toward him, to find his mouth. Their kisses were long and languorous, and spoke of the contented tranquillity they both felt.
Sofia turned a bit to slide one hand up his arm and rest upon his shoulder. When he lifted his head to gaze down at her she smiled and murmured, “I never would have imagined how ’twould be.”
“Naught between a man and wife should be shamed or feared,” he said. “Every pleasure is ours, Sofia. A gift from God.”
“I do not think I shall ever again remember what Sir Griel did. This is what I will think of, instead.”
“That is well,” Kayne said, touching his nose to hers. “But if you ever should begin to think of those dark moments, you need only tell me. I will gladly make myself the remedy for all that distresses you. I am your most willing servant.”
She laughed and grinned. “Then I am indeed the most fortunate woman on God’s earth, my lord. And I will spend my days thinking upon every hurt and misfortune that has befallen me, if you will rid me of such memories in this delightful way.”
“Most assuredly, my lady,” he murmured. “With a very glad heart, I will do all your bidding.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I do think of the smithy at times,” Kayne admitted, ducking his fair head so as not to strike it upon a low branch, “and I believe I will miss it. But I will do as my lord, Sir Justin, has ever done at Talwar and set up a smithy for my own pleasure at Vellaux.”
“But it will not be the same as the smithy you had built at Wirth,” Sofia said, letting Kayne bring her to a stop near the trunk of a fallen tree. It was slightly damp from the several days of rain that had just passed, and Kayne unclasped the cloak about his shoulders and laid it upon the wood before helping Sofia to sit down. “And your beautiful dwelling, which I know you dearly love—you will miss that most of all, will you not?”
With a weary sigh, he propped one booted foot upon the trunk and gazed out into the hazy mist of the forest.
They had left Vellaux only the day before, when the morn had dawned clear after a week of rain, and were on their way back to Wirth with an army of hundreds of fighting men at their heels. Sir Senet and Sir Aric and Lord John had waited patiently for the journey to begin, for the rain had delayed their time at Vellaux and Sofia knew that they were eager to return to their own estates and more especially their wives and children. But such was the measure of their bond with Kayne that they never spoke of such matters, nor murmured among themselves. And in the face of Kayne’s sullen and impatient behavior they had been unfailingly patient. Sofia wished that she could say the same for herself.
Each night in the past week, following their first night together, Kayne had come to her chamber and stayed with her. Sofia welcomed him with love and gladness, for in those precious hours he was himself again, leaving behind, as if shutting them away with the closing of her chamber door, his bitterness and unhappiness. It was almost as if they were back at Wirth, long before Sir Griel had brought such ruin to them, and at peace again. But come the morn, when he had returned to his own chamber, Kayne reclaimed the darkness that ever haunted him. Perhaps he was not so openly wretched as he had been before—indeed, she knew that he strove mightily not to give way to it—but there were still times, long hours, when he fell into the somber melancholy that refused to go away entirely.
This new journey had been far easier than the one they had made from Havencourt. Sofia’s back, though yet sore, was much improved, and the mud and wet that remained from the now passed storm made travel slow. With so large an army, they were forced to stop far more often than they would have done if the roads had been in much better condition. Kayne was
faithful to pull her down from the carriage at each rest and walk with her for a few moments. This, as he knew very well, greatly relieved the stiffness and pain in her body, and she was most thankful to him for it.
In but two days’ time, they would be at Wirth once more, and it was Kayne’s intention to confront Sir Griel and arrest him for the assault he had committed. As this would doubtless require a great deal of fighting—Sir Griel’s army was small but fierce, and his castle as unassailable as Havencourt—some manner of war would take place, and with it, most likely, much bloodshed. Kayne had assured her that he would not kill Sir Griel unless he deemed it necessary, but she was very afraid that he only spoke in such a manner to allay her fears. He already believed that Sir Griel was worthy of death for the grave insult he had visited upon her, and who would be able to stop Kayne if he managed to get Sir Griel alone in the heat of battle, even for a few minutes?
Once Sir Griel was dealt with, one way or another, Kayne and Sofia would stand on the steps of the chapel at Ahlgren Manor before the priest and all the people of Wirth, with her father present and in full agreement, and recite vows of betrothal. Then Sir Malcolm would accompany them back to Vellaux, where one week later, according to the terms of the betrothal, Kayne would take Sofia as his wife.
Upon this course of action, Kayne was firmly set, and Sofia, who had tried, and miserably failed, to convince him that it was not too late to back away from such commitment, found herself counting a multitude of minutes as they slipped away, taking with them her chances of giving Kayne back the peace and happiness he had lost because of her.
“It does no good to speak of what I will or will not miss, Sofia,” Kayne said after a short silence. “We will live at Vellaux once we are wed, and that is where our children will be born. The house and smithy in Wirth will be given to another. But you need have no worries, for I will find a skilled blacksmith in need of such work, who will serve the villagers well, and will set him up there. He may even have my cattle to keep as his own. So long as I have Tristan, I have little need of them. The horses,” he added with some regret, “are fine steeds, but he will need some few to hire out, and they would cost him too dear to buy if he has naught.”
“But if you would only speak to your father,” Sofia pressed, “he would let us stay at Wirth for a time. He is much better now than when first we arrived at Vellaux, for all that he insists he is yet dying. I am not so skilled as Lady Katharine, but you must agree that he is greatly improved these past many days.”
“Because he is half in love with his new daughter,” Kayne said, glancing at her with a brief smile, “and because you made him drink your medicinal brew each morn and night. But despite all this, he would not agree to let his heir live as a mere blacksmith. I am once again a knight of the realm,” he said, growing somber, as he ever did when he spoke of the knighthood, “and must live by the vows I have taken. I cannot bring dishonor to the knightly order.”
“And is it dishonor for a knight to make his living as a blacksmith?” she asked. “Is it not more honorable than killing men?”
His expression was cold and blank. “To be obedient to one’s master, to kill for him, if need be, is of all things held to be the most honorable. If the king, to whom I have pledged my liege, would order me to be a blacksmith, there would be honor in it. But he will not do so.” His mouth flattened to a grim line. “He would send me back to France before giving me such leave.”
For the first time since he’d taken her away from Wirth, following Sir Griel’s attack, Sofia felt a physical sense of dread. She had been worried for Kayne, aye, for she knew how deeply unhappy he was, but this was far more frightening.
“If he sent you back to France, Kayne,” she whispered, saying the words without thinking of what she did, “you would die.” She knew it was true, and felt faint and ill all at once. “You hated it so very much. And you would not have your friends about you, as you did before. Oh, Kayne…”
He sat beside her at once, setting one arm about her waist to draw her near, while with the other he searched for one of her hands.
“Forgive me for speaking in so thoughtless a manner,” he said. “The King will not send me to France, Sofia, for it is well and truly lost to England. ’Twas naught but foolishness for me to speak so heedlessly.”
“Nay, ’twill not do,” she said insistently, pushing from his grasp and standing. She strode a few paces, folding and unfolding her hands, feeling the bitter chill through to her bones, despite the heavy surcoat she wore. “I cannot let this be, Kayne. ’Tis all my fault that you are so wretched. You would never have taken on the knighthood again if I had not been so foolish—and if I had not prayed for it to happen.”
She heard him standing and moving, step by step through the dry leaves, until he was right in back of her.
“Sofia,” he said gently, setting his hands upon her shoulders. “’Tis not your fault, but mine.”
She wrenched free once more, moving a few steps away and shaking her head, not able to look at him.
“You do not understand. When I thought you were but a common blacksmith, I made myself accept that we could not be wed, but when I knew that you had once been a great knight, and that you were of noble birth—I had it in my mind that I would find the way to make you accept these things, so that we could be married. But it was all foolishness, and so very wrong.” She set the fingers of one hand against her face and shut her eyes tightly. “Oh, God, so very wrong. I thought—I was so foolish that I thought you would one day consent to being master of Ahlgren Manor, after my father had died, and before that we would live peaceably in your dwelling. But how foolish I was!” she cried, dropping her hand and opening her eyes, turning to look at him with all the agony she felt. “I prayed to God for my petitions to come true, but never did I think upon what it meant. How could you be made legitimate and take back the knighthood unless you took back all that you had so greatly abhorred? You strove so mightily to leave it behind, all that made you so fully wretched, but I, with my selfish desires, have made you take it all back.”
“Sofia, you do not know what you say,” he began, but she shook her head and would not listen.
“I do know, and it is the truth! But I will not let you do this thing, not even for all the fear I bear Sir Griel. I love you so, Kayne. How could I see you destroyed because of me?” She drew in a shaking breath, then said, “I will not be your wife.”
It was as if Kayne had turned to stone. He stared at her wide-eyed, disbelieving, and said, “What?”
Sofia licked her lips and blinked, striving not to weep.
“I will not be your wife,” she repeated. “I will not wed with you, Kayne. You must…tell your father that you…do not wish to have the knighthood. If it is not too late, though I know how it will grieve him. But that is my fault, as well, and not your own. You must never think that it is otherwise.”
He took a step toward her, holding out one hand. Sofia shook her head and stepped away. On her cheek she felt, with distress, the wet streak of a silent tear.
“You are already my wife,” he said in a low voice. “We have lain together as man and wife six full nights. I have planted my seed within you, and even now you may carry my child. We are as good as handfasted, and therefore man and wife.”
Sofia wiped her wet cheeks with the tips of her fingers. “We are not handfasted,” she declared. “We made no vows. We said naught before lying together. I have only been your…your leman.”
The color that had drained from Kayne’s face now filled quickly with red. He strode forward and grabbed her up with both hands in a furious hold.
“You are not my leman!” he shouted angrily, giving her a shake. “God’s mercy! I would kill any man who dared to utter so foul a thing! You are my wife, Sofia, and every law in England, both of Church and Crown, will proclaim you as such. We have declared our intent to wed and having lain together sealed our word. We are well and truly hand-fasted, made as one.” He gave her another shake, un
caring of the cry she gave. “I will never let any other man claim you as such.”
“And I will not see you live the rest of your days in misery!” she declared with equal heat, struggling until he at last released her. “Not when I have been the cause of it.”
“You are not the cause of it,” he said. “I have told you that ’tis naught but my own folly. I will master it, in time.”
“You must put aside the knighthood once more.”
Kayne threw his hands up with a measure of disbelief. “I cannot put it aside a second time! I have only just taken it back! What manner of man would I be if I did such a thing? And how should my honor withstand the shame? Do you not know what would be said of me, that my vows are worthless, and that I cannot cling to any determination I make longer than my own comfort allows?”
Sofia had not thought of that, but it was true. It would seem strange, indeed, for him to put off the knighthood yet again. He would be made jest of in every corner of England.
“Sofia, there is no other way,” he said more calmly. “We must both accept that, and cease such foolishness. Let us have no more talk of such matters.”
She shook her head silently, thinking that there must be a way to set him free, but said nothing. Kayne moved nearer and set his hands upon her arms, soothing with gentle fingers whatever pain he had given her earlier. Sofia could not even look at him, so great was her guilt.
“We will be married,” he told her, “and that is the end of it.”
“If only we could live at the smithy with some measure of peace,” she said. “Then at least you might be content. If only there was some way to manage it.”
“Sofia, even if I was not a knight of the realm, and heir to Vellaux—if I was yet but a simple commoner—can you think that I would ever allow you, the gently born daughter of a landed knight, to live in such a place? Never, love. ’Tis far beneath your due.”
Wretched, she pushed free of him once more and moved away, her back to him.
The Stolen Bride Page 17