Nunnery Brides: A Medieval Romance Collection

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He turned to look at her, to see her reaction, and he was met by a wide-eyed gaze. When he smiled at her, faintly, the wide-eyed gaze became thoughtful.

  “When I was told that I was to marry, I never expected someone like you,” she said. “I am not sure what I expected; mayhap, someone old and gruff. Mayhap, a foolish man with no hair. I really do not know. But you… I never expected you.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “I am assuming that is a good thing?”

  She nodded, or at least she tried to. “You are handsome and kind,” she said. “You are like the knights from the stories mother used to tell me.”

  “You remember your mother’s stories?”

  “I do,” she said firmly. “She would tell me of strong knights, men who were handsome and virtuous, and how they saved their ladies fair. You are like those knights from my mother’s stories – you are handsome and virtuous and compassionate.”

  Leaning over, he blew out the taper next to the bed and, in the darkness, pulled off his breeches. They ended up in a pile next to the bed as he climbed in, pulling the coverlet up.

  “My father is a great knight,” he said. “I learned everything I know from him.”

  “The Duke of Warminster?”

  “Aye. Did someone tell you that?”

  She turned her head to look at him, lying next to her in the bed even though he was at least an arm’s length away from her.

  “Sir Dastan did,” she said. She was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “You love your father a great deal, don’t you?”

  He turned his head to look at her, her haunting beauty in the darkness. “What makes you say that?”

  Her gaze lingered on him a moment before she laid her head back and looked up at the ceiling.

  “There was something in your expression when I spoke of my feelings towards my own father,” she said. “It is difficult to describe, but I saw both understanding and sorrow. As if you completely understood, yet you felt pity for me.”

  Dane pondered what he considered a perceptive observation. “I understand your feelings because the man I call my father, the Duke of Warminster, is not my actual father,” he said. “My father, the man whose blood I carry, died many years ago. He was a beast of a man, a vile piece of humanity, and I hated him. I do not speak of him, but I will this once so you understand what it means to me. It is your right, as my wife. My father by blood was a man named Guy Stoneley. He was a powerful warlord in Yorkshire. When he died, my mother married Warminster and it is his name I carry, by choice.”

  Grier was looking at him again, surprised by the confession. “Then you do understand my feelings about my father.”

  “I do, indeed,” he said. “But I also know what it means to have a father to love. I love Gaston de Russe very much. He is my father, regardless of the fact that there is not a drop of de Russe blood in me. I am his son.”

  “I look forward to meeting him.”

  “And I look forward to introducing you.”

  “Do you think he will like me?”

  “I am certain of it.”

  Grier appreciated his candor, but her alcohol-hazed mind was easily distracted. She was in bed, without a stitch of clothing on, and from what she saw with Dane, so was he. She didn’t want to talk about fathers any longer – the promise of husbandly kisses was of more interest to her at the moment. Laying her head back on the pillow, she found herself staring up at the ceiling once again.

  “Have you forgotten already?” she asked.

  He looked at her, curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “You said you were going to kiss me if I removed my shift and got into bed. I do not wish to talk about fathers anymore.”

  He fought off a grin. “Nay, I have not forgotten,” he said. “I would very much like to kiss you. May I?”

  Grier simply nodded. “Aye,” she said. “And… and do you intend to stab me, too?”

  “We’ll get to that.”

  Anticipation and fear welled up in Grier’s heart. She kept the coverlet up around her neck, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for him to make the first move. Dane finally rolled onto his side so he could look at her; every woman he had ever bedded had taken the aggressive role with him and he’d simply gone along for the ride. Given that Grier had never done this before, he was going to have to be the aggressor.

  It was a role he was more than willing to take.

  Leaning over, he kissed her naked shoulder, the only thing that was peering out from the top of the coverlet other than her head. Her skin was warm and soft, and she smelled faintly of lemons. Then, a big hand snaked under the covers and cupped her left breast, feeling her jump with surprise at his action.

  “That is not a kiss!” she gasped.

  He laughed low in his throat, moving closer to her. “That is coming. Be patient.”

  Beneath his hand, he could feel her tremble, but she didn’t pull away. Her breast was warm and soft, and he was instantly and madly aroused as he fondled her. From one breast to the other, he squeezed gently and caressed, pinching her nipples and feeling her quiver in response. It excited him so much that he buried his head beneath the coverlet, which was still pulled up to her neck, and began suckling her nipples.

  His hot, wet mouth on her breasts caused Grier to gasp, first in shock but then in pleasure. She could never have imagined a sensation like this, something that made her entire body quiver and bolts of lightning race through her limbs. His mouth was aggressive, moving from breast to breast as his hand kneaded the tender flesh of her belly. His roving hand seemed to be everywhere as he nursed against them hungrily.

  It was quite a first kiss.

  In truth, Dane was having difficulty controlling himself. He knew she was virgin, but her soft skin and sweet body had his blood boiling with need. The moment he touched her, he could feel it. The flame of passion had been turned into a wildfire. He continued to suckle her breasts, his hand finally moving to the junction between her legs. The moment he touched the dark curls there, she started violently and tried to move away from him, but he wouldn’t let her.

  Holding her fast, he gently parted her thighs.

  A big finger began to stroke the outside of her woman’s center and Grier put her hand over her mouth because she was startled, embarrassed, and aroused all at the same time. Her head was swimming with ale, but what Dane was doing to her caused it to spin wildly out of control. When the finger that had been stroking her invaded her private folds, gently but firmly, she drew her knees up, gasping in response.

  Her hissing reaction was all Dane needed to roll his big body on top of hers, his head coming out from beneath the coverlet and his mouth fusing to her lips. It was the kiss Grier had been waiting for, and he kissed her passionately, his tongue forcing her teeth apart to lick the pink interior of her mouth. The finger that had wormed its way inside her body was still there, now joined by a second finger, thrusting into her, making her wet and heated as it mimicked the lovemaking they would soon be engaging in. Dane was still kissing her deeply when he placed his manhood against her swollen, wet folds and thrust into her virginal body.

  It was a sharp and startling action, and Grier tore her mouth away from his, gasping with the shock of it. She barely had time to draw another breath when he thrust again, and then again, finally seating himself fully in her tender, trembling body.

  Finally, it was done.

  It was an overwhelming and painful act, and Grier squirmed beneath him, unaccustomed to a man’s body inside of hers. But Dane’s senses were heightened, his sense of passion and lust boiling over, and as Grier continue to twitch beneath him, he began the ancient primal rhythm of mating.

  His thrusts were firm and measured. Unaccustomed as she was, Grier grunted with every thrust, struggling not to gasp at the sensual intrusion. Dane’s lips had moved to her neck, her shoulders again, nibbling on her flesh and causing bolts of excitement to race through her body. But the more he thrust, the more she relaxed, and before s
he realized it, she was even coming to respond to him.

  Her hands reached for him, timidly, feeling the naked flesh of his body for the first time. He was warm with a fine dark mat of blond hair covering his chest. She liked it very much. But as she moved to touch him, she ended up touching herself as well, which brought about an unexpected result. Her hand brushed against her right nipple and the moment she touched herself she could feel a wild explosion in her loins that caused her entire body to seize. The sensations were heightened as Dane impaled her on his manhood repeatedly. It was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life, causing her eyes to roll back in her head and her breathing to come in shrieking gasps. The more Dane pounded into her, the more heightened the exquisite sensation.

  It seemed as if it went on forever when, in fact, it was only a few seconds because the moment Dane realized that she had found her release, there was nothing to hold back his own pleasure. Feeling her body draw at him brought about the greatest climax he had ever experienced. He spilled himself deep, feeling his hot seed as it made her very slick and very wet. He liked the feel of what he had put inside her as he finally marked her as his own.

  It was the sweetest thing he had ever experienced.

  When the tremors faded away and Dane lay on top of Grier, it took very little time for the still-tipsy, exhausted, and satisfied lady to pass out. Dane realized it when she began snoring softly against him, and he didn’t even try to wake her. He simply shifted so his weight wasn’t on her, wrapped her up in his arms, and settled in for the night.

  And what a night it had been.

  Lady de Russe had finally been stabbed with her husband’s fleshy sword… and liked it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The alarm at dawn woke Dane up out of a dead sleep.

  He could hear the Shrewsbury horn on the battlements, its mournful cry rousing men to battle, and he threw back the coverlet and leapt out of bed. His breeches, in a pile next to the bed where he had left them, were quickly on and he snatched his boots, yanking them on his feet as Grier, groggy and hungover, sat up in bed.

  “What is happening?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. “What is that noise?”

  Dane hardly had time to explain. With his boots on, he grabbed his tunic and bent over the bed, kissing Grier on the top of the head.

  “An alarm,” he said. “Stay here and bolt the door. You will not open it except for me or any of the knights. Is that clear?”

  Fearfully, Grier nodded. “An alarm?” she repeated. “Is the castle being attacked?”

  Dane yanked his tunic over his head as he made his way to the door. “I do not know,” he said. “Bolt this door when I go.”

  As Dane rushed to the stairs, he heard the bolt as Grier threw it across the chamber door. Taking the steps quickly, perhaps too quickly, he was just hitting the entry when Boden burst in through the entry door and headed for his brother. The pair came together somewhere in the middle of the foyer.

  “What is happening?” Dane demanded.

  “A raid on the market street,” Boden said. “Syler and Dastan are already mounted, riding out to stop it.”

  Dane didn’t like the idea of his men fighting a battle without him. “Bring my horse to the gatehouse,” he said. “I will be there in a few minutes. Where is William?”

  “He is preparing to ride out after Dastan and Syler.”

  Dane came to a halt. “We cannot all ride out to fight,” he said, irritated. “Boden, you remain here. I will ride out with Willie. Tell him to wait for me, do you hear?”

  Boden rolled his eyes. “You know he will not listen to me.”

  “If he does not, then I send him home to Wellesbourne and tell his father that he has shamed the Wellesbourne name.” He jabbed a finger at his brother. “Tell him that, Boden. I will not hesitate to do it.”

  Boden knew it was the truth. As he headed back out to the gatehouse to have Dane’s horse brought around, Dane ran with him, stopping at the western tower of the inner gatehouse because the armory was there. His armor, his weaponry, had been taken there after they’d returned yesterday to be cleaned by the small army of squires and pages they had serving at Shrewsbury.

  And that small army had an entire story behind it.

  Garreth de Lara was generous in that he accepted young men and boys from noble families who were perhaps not too well off so that the lads could learn the vocation of the knighthood. The problem was that Garreth never denied a truly willing and eager family, so there were literally dozens of young men at Shrewsbury, willing and able to complete any task asked of them.

  That was never more evident than it was when Dane dashed into the armory only to find it full of boys and young men, all working furiously on the racks and stacks of weaponry and armor that were there. When they saw Dane, the new duke, they rushed him, bringing his armor and weapons and anything else they thought he needed, and Dane had to settle the boys down so he could properly dress. It had been like a rush of eager puppies the moment he walked through the door. There were two older squires there, young men who had seen sixteen or seventeen years, and they were quite efficient in holding off the throng of young men as they helped Dane dress.

  It was heavy plate armor, made for great protection, and Dane had them fasten on the chest and back plates, and the protection for his arms and shoulders. Time was growing short, so he forewent most of the plate on his legs. He had a mail coat on, that hung to his knees, and with his boots on, he was nearly fully dressed, but time was passing swiftly and he didn’t want to delay any longer. With one of the older squires running after him, carrying his shield, he ran all the way to the bailey where his horse was just being brought around.

  As he’d hoped, but not really expected, William was impatiently waiting for him. Astride his excitable war horse, William rallied the other soldiers astride their steeds and formed a protective barrier around Dane as the patrol raced from the main gatehouse of Shrewsbury. It was an impressive formation organized by William and meant to protect Dane. The trouble was, it also singled him out, which Dane didn’t like. He broke from the formation and charged towards the marketplace in the center of town with his contingent thundering after him.

  They deeper they went into town, the more panic they saw. People were running in their direction, screaming in terror. Dane tried not to mow them down, but it was difficult because they were all fleeing in terror. Dane was finally forced to slow his horse and as he drew closer to the market area of town, a high-pitched wail suddenly filled the air.

  Knowing immediately what it was, Dane threw himself off of his horse just in time for the arrow, launched from a crossbow at high speed, to sail overhead and hit the soldier behind him. Hit squarely in the chest, the man grunted and fell backwards off of his horse.

  “Get down!” Dane bellowed, and men began falling from their horses. “Find cover!”

  Everyone was scattering, rushing into doorways and alleys, trying to stay clear of the arrows, which were flying in their direction. Several more were launched as Dane and William took shelter in the doorway of a large house.

  “Where are they coming from?” William demanded, trying to stick his head out. “Did you see?”

  Dane pressed himself up against the door as another arrow sailed in their general direction, hitting the house on the eaves above them.

  “Nay,” he said. “But they are coming from the general direction of the marketplace, which concerns me. Where are Dastan and Syler? They rode out ahead of us, didn’t they?”

  William nodded. He dropped to his hands and knees, peering out into the street beyond. “I can see the merchant houses that line the marketplace, but this is the rear of them,” he said. “The front faces out into the market street. I cannot see any movement.”

  Dane thought quickly. “We need the army, not just small patrols,” he said. “Someone needs to make it back to the castle to muster a few hundred men.”

  “I’ll go,” William said confidently. “If I can move to this row of
homes behind us, I can make it to the castle without being seen.”

  “Then go,” Dane commanded quietly. “Hurry, now, and stay low. I am concerned for Dastan and Syler. We must find them.”

  William was gone, using stealth to make his way to the row of residences several dozen yards to the north, and then using those homes as a shield as he ran back to the castle. Dane was pleased to see that he made it, but then it began to occur to him that he was hearing the sounds of a fight from the direction of the marketplace. And here he and his men were, pinned down by arrow fire and unable to help.

  He wasn’t just going to stand here.

  Off to his left, he could see his war horse milling about, grazing on one of the many grassy, muddy areas that dotted the town. Most of the horses had run back to the castle, but not his glutton – his stallion never turned down fresh grass, which was a good thing. On the horse’s back were the tools he needed to make it into the marketplace – his shield and his sword.

  He had to get the horse’s attention.

  Emitting a low but rather shrill whistle between his teeth, he called to the beast. The animal’s head came up first, sighting him, and then Dane whistled again, which brought the animal in his direction. A couple of arrows flew in the horse’s direction, but they both missed, and the animal began to run towards him, startled by the sound. When the steed came alongside, Dane grabbed his shield and his broadsword.

  Now, he was armed.

  Slapping the animal on its fat rump, he sent the horse back in the direction of the castle as he stepped out into the open, holding the shield over his head. As he expected, multiple arrows came flying out at him, but he ran towards the marketplace, fending off the arrows with his shield.

  The sounds of fighting grew louder and, as he approached, he ran straight into a Welshman with a crossbow in his hands. Delivering a crushing blow with his shield to the face, Dane dragged the unconscious Welshman back the way he’d come, handing him over to some of his men who were just coming out of their hiding places. As a few men gleefully took the unconscious prisoner back to the castle, Dane and the rest of his men continued towards the marketplace, only to run headlong into the remnants of a brutal fight.