by The Bargain
"I am sorry to hear of your husband's death, Lady Elena," Galeran said sincerely before drinking deeply from his goblet.
"You are the only one then, Galeran."
Galeran choked again on his wine, and Renaud shook his head.
Once Galeran was again breathing right, Renaud turned to his sister. "Father always said you would be the death of Lorange."
"He was right. That is what father deserved for marrying me off to an old man." Elena shrugged. "Enough of me and my best-to-be-forgotten past. I would like to know more about Aleysia. Since my rude brother has failed to introduce us, I shall have to take it upon myself to do so."
"Forgive me," Renaud said apologetically.
"Elena, meet Aleysia. Aleysia, this is my outspoken sister Elena."
Elena nodded. "A pleasure to meet you, my dear. Now tell me something of yourself."
Aleysia, having felt secure in listening to the banter going on about her, shifted uneasily. She always hated talking about herself, preferring to listen to others instead. "I fear there is little to tell, Lady Elena."
"You are Saxon, yet my brother tells me you have lived with the Scots for some time? How did that come to pass?"
Aleysia tried to ignore the burning gray stare of the man at her side, but found it difficult. "When Baron de Pirou killed our parents, we decided we could not stay at Braemere. My brother and I traveled to Scotland to live with my father's good friend, Laird MacMillan. We have been there these past three years."
Elena lifted a fine dark brow. "And this MacMillan is your betrothed?"
"Aye, he is."
"Was," Renaud blurted.
Elena smiled knowingly, her gaze skipping to her brother before returning to Aleysia. "Do you love this man? This Scottish laird?" She shuddered, as though truly horrified. "I have heard the men from the north are positively barbaric!"
Though Aleysia had half a mind to make a comment about Norman barbarians, she refrained, not wanting to anger Renaud, his men, and sister.
Aleysia's cheeks turned warm under the other woman's intent stare. She swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully. "I admire Duncan, and have come to care for him."
"But you do not love him?"
Aleysia remembered well her words to Renaud the day MacMillan had come to Braemere. "He was a dear friend of my father's."
"Then we are kindred spirits, for I was forced into marrying my father's good friend." She took a sip from her goblet. "I assure you, Aleysia, that you do not love this man, but you agreed to marry him because of your father's wishes. You are an obedient daughter, just as I was." Elena reached across her brother to touch Aleysia's hand. "Be glad that you do not love him. The only reason I am grateful for my husband at all is that he managed to give me two beautiful sons. They were, and remain, my saving grace."
"You are a mother, then?" Aleysia asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
"Aye, and I can see by the brightness of your smile that you desire children as well."
Aleysia nodded, doing her best to ignore the man sitting beside her. She felt his steady regard—and it unnerved her, especially given the current discussion. "Aye, Duncan has children already, but he desires more."
Renaud's jaw clenched tight, but he stayed silent.
"Did your children travel with you?" Aleysia asked.
Elena's smile faded. "My sons are in Sicily with their uncle, my husband's brother, acquiring lands for their future. I know they are safe with their uncle, but I miss them horribly."
"I can only imagine."
"They miss their uncle Renaud as well," Elena said, smiling at her brother. "They hope one day to serve in your army."
Aleysia realized in that moment how very little she knew of Renaud de Wulf. She had learned more in the past few moments with his sister, than during a full week in his company. Ironically, she wished to know everything about this man who had come storming into her life. What he was like as a child. His likes. His dislikes. His loves...
"And one day they shall, sister," Renaud replied with a wink. "I look forward to that day."
Aleysia felt her cheeks grow hot as Renaud turned back to her and stared. "Are they grown then?"
Elena's gaze dipped from Aleysia to Renaud, then back to Aleysia, a knowing smile on her lips. "Morgar is five and ten, and Renaud is two and ten."
Aleysia turned to Renaud to find him watching her closely. There was a softness in his eyes as he watched her. "Your nephew shares your name."
He nodded. "Aye, he does."
"I feared my brother would not live long enough to have sons himself, so I selfishly named my youngest after him," Elena said, rubbing her brother's forearm. "Mayhap I was wrong in doing so."
Renaud turned to Elena and took hold of her hand. "Nay, sister. I am honored that you would name your beloved son after me. God willing, I will have a son, and when I do, I will give him a name different than my own, so that I do not make my wife crazy with confusion."
"You were always wise," Elena replied, before turning back to Aleysia. "What of your brother, Aleysia?"
Aleysia set her goblet down with a trembling hand. Apparently,
Renaud had not informed his sister of Adelstan's whereabouts. "What of him?"
Elena smiled. "Is he as beautiful as you?"
Flattered by the compliment, Aleysia replied, "Thank you for your kindness, and yes—women have always favored my brother. It is sad that he rots away in the tower as we speak."
Elena frowned. "You jest?"
"Nay, I do not."
Thankfully, the pages approached with large trenchers of venison, mutton with dried peas, and beans. The smells of garlic and onion filled the space, and everyone's attention turned to eating.
Aleysia reached for her goblet and drained it, ignoring Renaud's sideways glance. She rarely drank wine, not liking the effect it had on her mind, but she needed to steel her nerves for what lay ahead this evening. Tonight she would be leaving Braemere, forever. She had to remind herself that the beautiful fief was no longer her home, that it had stopped being so the moment her parents had been killed. She would return to Scotland with Adelstan, and live the rest of her days in peace.
Away from this man and his dangerous beauty. Feeling too warm all of a sudden, Aleysia moved over a little, away from Renaud and closer to Galeran. The young knight glanced her way and smiled. He then looked at Renaud, and abruptly returned his attention to the food before him.
Supper continued, and Aleysia ate heartily, knowing it might very well be the last meal for her in a while. She had hidden away in a canvas bag some fruit, cheese, and bread for the journey.
By the time the musicians began to play, filling the high-ceilinged room with the sound of lutes and harp in concert, Aleysia's nerves were on edge. Time was of the essence. She must get back to the tower before the servant took the wine to the guards.
She glanced over at Renaud, who watched the musicians play. Catching her gaze, he turned and smiled.
Her heart pounded loudly as she stared at him, memorizing each feature, each line on his face. The beautiful shade of his eyes, the scar on his cheek that marked him as the warrior he was. She doubted she would ever meet another man like him for as long as she lived.
He tilted his head a little and frowned. "You stare, Aleysia. What displeases you so?"
Did he actually believe she found him lacking? If only he knew the truth. She leaned forward to where her lips were just inches from his. "Nothing, my lord. I am going to retire."
"So early?" The words were low, husky, his eyes dark with a fire she recognized.
Her blood burned for him as well. "It has been a long day, and I am tired." She dropped her gaze from his for a moment in an effort to steady her nerves. "Would you like to join me?" she asked, meeting his gaze once more. She knew he would certainly stay in the hall for a while with his sister. It would be rude to leave now since she had only just arrived.
The sides of his mouth curved. "Aye, I would, but I m
ust make my sister welcome. Mayhap you can keep the bed warm?"
She smiled, relieved. "Aye, I will."
"Then I will be along shortly."
"I will be waiting, my lord."
CHAPTER 9
Renaud entered the darkened bedchamber. Aleysia sat on a chair before the fire, a fur wrapped about her slender frame. As he closed the door behind him, she looked up and met his gaze.
His heart skipped a beat. Her hair had been brushed out until it glistened like fine silk, the soft blonde curls falling all about her like a veil. He pushed the door closed and removed his boots.
She watched him intently, her gaze shifting over him slowly. One would never guess by looking at her that just days ago she had been a virgin. Not by the way she stared at him now, her light green eyes boldly wandering over his body.
Desire coiled within him, warming his veins, making his cock throb and his balls ache. It had been days since they had last made love. He had not had the heart to touch her after MacMillan's visit, when she had cried. Her sobs had torn at him, and though he wanted to make love to her every day since then, he refrained, too afraid that his father's words would ring true.
Plus, Renaud could not afford to forget his focus, and that was securing Braemere, along with the rest of the north. Only when that task was completed would he have time to pursue other things, like marrying and having children.
Yet Aleysia had already worked her way under his skin, and he could not afford to lose himself in a woman. Not now, when there was so much to be done.
He removed his tunic and tossed it aside, then worked on his chausses and braies. Her light eyes seemed lit from within as she watched him, her cheeks tinged a flattering shade of pink.
She stood, letting the blanket fall, and he let out a breath.
Her trembling gave her nervousness away, but to her credit, she did not try to cover her naked form. Instead, she straightened her spine, her shoulders arched just enough to push her breasts out. Her rose-pink nipples crinkled into hard points.
His gaze shifted lower, over her flat stomach, to the blonde triangle of hair between her legs. Memories of her tight channel gripping him made his cock harder and longer. She noticed his arousal, for her brows lifted as she stared boldly, and she licked her pink full lips.
That stare had him crossing the room to reach her, but he stopped a few feet from her. He wanted her to be the aggressor tonight.
She took a step, and then another. Next her arms looped around his neck, and she lifted her chin. He didn't have long to wait for her kiss—a soft peck that ended far too quickly. His fingers curled about her hips, pulling her closer, encouraging her.
Her tongue stroked the seam of his lips and he opened. She sighed as her tongue stroked his, slowly, parrying with his, experimenting as her arms tightened about his neck.
Her hard nipples brushed against his chest, and for a second he forgot about letting her take control. He rubbed his cock against her belly, showing her what she did to him. She moaned low in her throat, and he smiled against her lips, pleased by her response.
His hand slid down her belly, lower to the soft curls that guarded her femininity. Parting her, he stroked her hot, slick flesh with his fingers. Her breath hitched in her throat and she stopped kissing him back. Instead, her head fell to his shoulder, her breath warm against his chest. Then her lips were there, pressed against the pulse now beating wildly. Using his foot, he pushed her feet farther apart and continued stroking her, inserting a single finger into her slick, molten core.
While he pleasured her, she in turn kissed the lobe of his ear, his jaw, his chin. With heart pounding nearly out of his chest, he looked down at her, and what he saw took his breath away. Her eyes were bright with a passion he had not seen before. And he realized with a start, that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Her gaze shifted to his lips once more, and he lowered his head, capturing her mouth with his.
Velvety soft, and tasting of mint, her tongue danced with his. Her fingers wove through his hair, pulling a little. He felt her desperation to the very depths of his soul.
Lifting her in his arms, he strode toward the bed, where he gently laid her down on the covers and stared at her for a long moment. He would never forget the image for as long as he lived. The desire in her green eyes. Aye, she was perfect in every way, this little enemy of his.
She lifted her arms, and he joined her on the bed, crawling between her thighs. His fingers returned to her heated core. He swallowed a groan as he slipped one finger within her, then another. She was already so wet, so hot, her honeyed walls gripping his fingers tight.
Moaning, she bit into his lower lip as his thumb brushed against the sensitive knot of flesh nestled between her folds. She arched her hips against his hand, and when he rubbed the pleasure spot inside her inner walls, he was pleased when she moaned again, the contractions squeezing his fingers.
Reaching between them, her fingers slid down his rigid cock and up again. He couldn't remember a time he'd been so hard, or his need so great, and he feared he would spend himself if she did not stop.
Her fingers curled around his cock, making a tight fist, moving in a frantic rhythm. In truth, her awkward strokes excited him more than had she known exactly what to do. His balls tightened and with a low-throated moan he grabbed her wrist, halting her. She reared back, her brow furrowed. "You do not like my touch?"
How wounded she looked and sounded. He smiled to ease her mind. "I like it too much."
Comprehension came over her slowly, along with a relieved smile, before she kissed him once more. With hand on his chest, she pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips, surprising him yet again with her boldness.
Her long hair tickled his thighs and belly. How beautiful she was, her full breasts, the nipples erect, begging to be suckled. His gaze lowered to her flat stomach and the patch of pale curls at her damp womanhood. Her musky scent aroused him even more. She was a vixen who was fast learning her power.
Her gaze shifted to his chest, where she splayed her hands and touched him. Her fingers grazed his nipples before moving down over his stomach, which tightened at her touch. His cock rested against his navel, and she bit her bottom lip as she stroked him, her fingers teasing the plum-sized head. How determined she looked. When her gaze met his, he was shocked and pleased at the heat he saw in their light-green depths.
"Ride me, Aleysia," he coaxed.
She went up on her knees, and sank down on his cock, taking him slowly into her. Though he yearned to thrust and bury himself in her womb, he refrained and let her take control, even if it tested his strength of will like never before.
Once she settled on him fully, he clenched his jaw as her sheath gripped him like a hot glove. Buried to the hilt, she rotated her hips in a small circle. He reached for her, cupping her breasts with each palm. She arched her back, giving him better access.
Sitting up, he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking it lightly. Her arms encircled his neck, her fingers weaving through his hair, pulling him tighter to her breast. She moved slowly, up and down his length, finding her own rhythm.
Sweat beaded his brow, and he forced himself to contain his climax, keep it at bay until she was ready to come. He tried to think of other things—anything but being buried within her sweet body, but failed time and again. Then he felt it at the same time Aleysia gasped and bit into his shoulder—the tiny contractions grew stronger, her sheath pulsing around his length as she came.
His mouth left one nipple to service the other; his fingers stroked the one he'd just suckled, pulling it lightly, pinching it softly over and over again. His other hand moved down her back, over the high arc of her buttocks, slipping between the cleft there.
Her breath hitched a little and he smiled, cupping her ass, pulling her tighter against him.
Her pace increased as he suckled harder. Nails raked across his shoulders as she came again, her sheath tightened around him, squeezing and coating his cock with her honey.
He fell back onto the mattress, grabbed her waist, and lifted his hips.
With her faint tremors still pulsing around him, he took control and rolled her onto her back, his thrusts long and fluid. The bed rocked, pounding against the wall with the force of his strokes. The slap of skin against skin reverberated in the room.
Sweat poured off him, but he refrained from coming until he brought her to climax again. He wanted her crying his name. Her breasts bounced with each thrust, and he spread her thighs wider, tucking his hips to go as deep in her as possible.
Her fingers slid around the headboard above her head. She opened her eyes, and the need he saw there made him even harder. "Renaud," she said on a moan.
Her inner walls clenched his cock like a vise, drawing out his seed. He came with a loud, satisfied groan.
He rolled until she lay fully on him. She smiled against his lips, her breathing labored, her heart pounding hard against his. Lord, he would never be able to release her. It would be impossible. His fingers slid up and down along her spine, loving the silky-soft feel of her skin against his rough hands.
The pounding of her heart eased as the minutes ticked by, and still she lay on him, not moving. With his free hand, he brushed her hair back from her face, caressing a silky strand between his finger and thumb.
He could get used to times like these, lying about with a beautiful woman. A novelty for him, a man whose mind always seemed to be on other matters that required his attention. Yet now, even wild horses couldn't drag him away from this woman, who lay so still and content in his arms.
Just the thought of being separated from her made him uneasy. It was too new, these emotions he felt, not to mention confusing. How could he feel them so quickly, especially for a woman he had not even known existed a fortnight ago?
Lust, plain and simple, his better judgment said, nothing less, nothing more.
Whatever the case, this brave woman had worked her way into his soul. She had lost so much in her tender years. In truth, she would lose the one man who meant most to her by month's end. Then she would have no one.