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Chapter Fifteen

F ive days later, James was back.

It had been the longest five days in Carys’ life. The king had lingered for longer than she had expected, testing everyone’s temper with his boasts about his victories in battle and her patience by declaring his brave men should get a well-deserved rest while they were being offered such lavish hospitality. No one in the retinue caught the merest glimpse of Branwen during their stay, since she stayed in her rooms, as promised. Matthew had told his guests on the day of their arrival that his wife was not to tax herself at this time.

“I’m afraid you will have to contend with me alone,” he said as soon as the refreshments had been served. His tone brooked no argument. “Branwen is heavy with child and having a hard time of it all.”

“Of course,” the king soothed with more understanding than Carys had expected. Perhaps, having had more than a dozen children with Queen Eleanor, his wife who’d died almost a decade ago, he knew all about the issues women with child faced. “By all means, let her get the rest she needs.”

At least there had been a small consolation. The Earl of Lancaster had left Sheridan Manor as soon as his uncle had arrived, offering the weakest of excuses. It seemed he wasn’t sure his host would not come to stab him in the night to avenge his wife, and perhaps he was right to fear such an eventuality. The look Matthew had thrown him when they had met after the assault had chilled Carys to the marrow. It was clear he cared not about what arrangements had been made and would seize the first opportunity to make him pay for what he had done to Branwen. In the earl’s place, she would have fled as well.

They were well rid of the foul man.

After four excruciatingly long days, the king took his leave. Once the retinue was gone, Matthew decided to wait for another day before calling James back, just to be on the safe side. Then he sent William, the little page to the village to get him.

And so at last, one Sunday evening, Carys watched him ride through the gate on his black stallion.

Rooted to the spot, she drank him in, taking in the freshly shaven jaw, the determination burning in his eyes, the beloved black tunic. He was back, he was safe, he was here.

She could start breathing again.

Matthew was at his side in an instant, clasping his arm in a manly handshake. “Dear God, James. I don’t know what to say. I never got to thank you before you left. You saved my wife from that bastard Lancaster, and almost died because of your courage.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his face a picture of anguish. Carys knew how hard it had been for him to know his beloved wife was being assaulted and not be able to do anything for her. He blamed himself for not having been at Sheridan Manor to welcome the earl in her stead, for having left at such a critical time. Branwen had assured him she did not blame him, that no real harm had been done but Carys could tell he’d only agreed to ease her mind. Deep down he still felt responsible. She could only hope that, in time, he would learn to shed the guilt.

“There is nothing, nothing I could do that will ever express my gratitude, but know that you have it nonetheless.”

“Please, I don’t need your gratitude, as long as I can have your affection.” James landed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, the gesture paternal.

“You’ve always had it. I’m proud to count myself as the son you weren’t able to see grow up.”

There was a pause, charged with emotion. Then James cleared his throat. “I could not have asked for a better one.”

Carys wiped a tear from her cheek as she watched the two men nod at one another, the gesture somehow more meaningful than if they had fallen into each other’s arms. She of all people knew the link that could bind two strangers and, in that moment, they did look like father and son.

“Now, come. Branwen has asked to see you when you came back. She, too, would like to thank you for what you did.”

“I’ll be glad to go to her as soon as I’m able. But if you will excuse me, right now there is something I need to do, something I’ve been prevented from doing for far too long.”

Matthew’s face did not betray any surprise, but his brown eyes were gleaming when he turned to look at her. “Of course. You do that. I will give orders to ensure that you are not disturbed.”

Carys felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. Not only had he guessed what that mysterious thing was, but he was giving his approval. There was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. Would he go tell Branwen her adoptive mother and his second father had formed an attachment? Her daughter already suspected it, she was sure of it. Would she and her husband talk about what the future might bring?

Did it matter? No. Carys was not ashamed.

Let them think and say what they will, since she was certain they approved anyway.

Without further ado, James took her by the hand to lead her to his room. She didn’t even think to protest, didn’t utter a word, she simply allowed him to take her where he wanted—where they both wanted. Her heart started to beat a fierce rhythm when he closed the door behind him.

This was it. The moment they had waited so long for.

Instead of feeling shy, she felt thirty years younger.

“This could take a while. So I will be a bit cleverer than the other lovers at Sheridan Manor and ensure no one disturbs us, shall I?” He bolted the door as he spoke.

“Please.”

She would die if anyone interrupted them now. They had waited too long for this first joining. Years since their spouses’ deaths and months since they’d found one another. They had been thwarted at every turn, prevented to act on the desire they felt.

No more.

James stood in front of her, a tower of strength. Her core started to tingle in anticipation. Before she could say anything he lifted her into his arms, forcing her to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, like he had that day in the sea.

“Carys, without you I would be dead, or married to Margaret. In more ways than one, I owe you my life,” he told her, eyes aglow. “I think it’s only fair you get to take charge of it from now on. Tell me how I can serve you?”

As if he couldn’t guess. Under her buttocks she could feel the proof that they might want the same thing. “I think you know what I want right now. But first, you could kiss me.”

Everything dissolved within her when he took her lips in a fierce kiss. The salt from the sea wasn’t there today, but there was spice, and all the sweetness she craved. It was even better.

“As much as I would like to take you here where we stand, I will take you to bed,” he said, speaking with his mouth at her throat. “I’m no green lad anymore.”

“And I am no lithe damsel. A bed will be just perfect.” She smiled, before taking his earlobe between her lips. “But before anything else, I’ll need to see you naked.”

“You will. You will see every inch of me. It’s all yours anyway.”

He deposited her onto the bed gently, and proceeded to undress with unhurried gestures that built her anticipation to an almost unbearable level. When he was naked at the foot of the bed, she stared in disbelief. Had any man been more beautiful? Carys addressed a mental thanks to his mother for allowing the Egyptian merchant’s charms to sway her, because the result was pure perfection. No one she had ever met had such mouth-watering, sun-kissed skin.

“I’ve imagined this moment countless times, you know.” Kneeling on the bed, she placed a hand over his chest. To her delight, it was as firm and hairy as she had imagined it. So virile … “You’re just like you appeared in my dreams.” He was dark all over, and his manhood as deliciously tempting as she had hoped.

“You’ve dreamed of me?” He sounded both surprised and pleased at the notion.

“Yes.” Admitting such a forbidden thing felt wicked but she couldn’t lie.

“Were you naked in that dream?”

“Yes.”

“Was I?”

“Yes.”

“Mm.” Sleek and determined, he leaned in toward her, forcing her to lie back down on the soft mattress. Once she was flat on her back, he loomed over her, his weight supported by two muscular arms. “Tell me, what did I do to you in those dreams, you maddening woman? Or perhaps I don’t need to ask if we were both naked … Still, I’d like to hear it.”

“You spoke to me in Welsh, for a start.”

His eyebrows shot upwards. “That is not what I had thought you’d say, and not something I will be able to do today, I’m afraid. But whatever else I did in that dream of yours to bring you pleasure, I can do in real life. I’m not the shy kind.”

Heat bolted through her veins. She knew he wasn’t a shy sort of lover, rather the scandalous sort. And with him, so was she. “You came to my bed and started to caress me. It was wonderful but I woke up before I could reach my peak. It was rather frustrating.”

“I bet it was.” His voice became impossibly husky and his nose lowered until it was touching her temple. “Tell me what you did to ease that frustration.”

Carys moaned. How had the wretched man guessed she had not left it at that? And now he was asking her to describe what she had done. It had not been a question, but an order. Just like that day at the beach, he was forcing her to be crude. And he was waiting for her to start … It was clear he would not move until she had told him what she had done to herself in excruciating detail.

“Could I do it in Welsh?”

A slow smile was all the answer she got. An agreement of sorts, one she seized gratefully. Cheeks aflame, she started to describe how she had run her fingers along her folds before dipping into her soaked flesh and bringing herself to an explosive release.

By the time she was done, her need for his touch had been brought to a fever pitch and James’ eyes were two glittering obsidians.

“Bloody hell,” he growled, his mouth still in her hair. “I really need to start learning Welsh. I would give a fortune to understand what you just said.”

Well, she would be only too glad to teach him but the lessons would have to wait. For now she had to ease the burning inside her body.

Carys started to shed her clothes with more impatience than grace. Now that they were assured they would not be interrupted, James behaved as if they had all the time in the world, forcing her to talk, teasing her, looming over her without ever touching her. Perhaps they did have all the time in the world, but she was desperate to start. Her dress was sent flying across the room, and her shift soon followed.

“Bloody hell,” he repeated, once she had bared her body. It had been years since anyone had seen her naked. Any doubt Carys might have about her body vanished the moment James growled his approval.

She lay back down and he followed, caging her under him once more.

None too gently, as if he’d been driven to the edge of his control by the sight of her, he cupped her right breast and latched onto her nipple with the eagerness of a starved man. She remembered thinking how much she missed a man’s mouth on her when she had given herself pleasure that day after her dream. There it was, as hot and satisfying as it could be. Groaning in time with her moans, he suckled her so thoroughly that he rendered her breathless with need. She forgot her intention to disrobe completely. Delicious as this was, she couldn’t wait another moment to feel him surge within her. She would remove her stockings and shoes later.

“James, please take me,” she rasped, her voice barely recognizable. “I can’t stand any more teasing.”

They’d had months of it. She needed him now .

“No, neither can I.” He sounded on the verge of desperation himself. “I wanted to pleasure you first, but I will just have to do that afterward. Either way, unlike in your dream, I promise you will be satisfied.”

Carys had a suspicion they would be too drained afterward to do anything other than lie in each other’s arms but she nodded nonetheless. No need to ensure her satisfaction beforehand, she already knew his possession would be enough to make her explode in release.

A heartbeat later, she was proven right. His first thrust had to be the most extraordinary thing she had ever felt, slow, hot, hard, and everything in between. Her body started to tighten, heat bolted to the base of her skull. No! Too soon!

“Wait!” she cried out, desperate to savor this first joining to the full. She wanted to stay balanced on the edge of release a little while longer, make the most of the moment. “It’s … too good.”

“Yes. Too good.”

James stilled and, to her delight, closed his mouth over her nipple again, licking it, teasing it, sucking it as deep as it would go into his mouth. She started to circle her hips and it was too much. There was no stopping the sensations unfurling through her body.

She was blooming, just like that plant reviving under gentle rain she had once likened herself to.

Her core started to spasm in time with the suckling, her muscles clamped over the length buried inside her, starting a pulsing that seemed to come from the very depth of her soul. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, quiet, intimate, and oh so delicious. She had not suspected she could ever reached her peak without feeling her lover move but here she was, being ripped apart by pleasure.

“Yessss.” The word was one, long moan of ecstasy. What was he doing to her?

“Christ, Carys, you feel so good. I want more,” James whispered against her breast. “I want all of you. Now.”

“Take what you need. Now.”

She wanted to feel him move. She wanted to soar again.

And then she wanted him to do the same.

He withdrew, then slowly, inch by inch, he filled her again. Dear God, it had been too long since she had felt a man surge inside her, too long since she had wanted this man to fill her, for her not to be overwhelmed. The tryst by the beach, scandalous, satisfying as it had been, had not been the same. Nothing compared to feeling your body tighten around your lover’s member, to having his heat inside you.

This possession was nothing like her husband’s had been, less hurried, more intimate, less familiar, more forbidden, all new and wonderful. Overwhelming. James seemed to think the same thing. Poised above her, he was trembling.

“Are you all right?” She closed her arms around him protectively. He had stopped moving and she thought she knew what the issue might be.

“I have not … Not since … ”

Her heart bled for him, because she understood what he was unable to say. He meant he’d not been able to let himself go, to experience his pleasure to the full since his sons’ deaths, too worried about the consequences of getting a woman with child.

“I know, but you can with me, remember? You can let go. I’ll be with you all the way.” She stroked his back, still strong and smooth, if perhaps not as firm as it would have been years ago. “It is as if we had been made for one another. With me, what you fear won’t happen. We can share our lives, our woes, our hopes, our pleasure together.”

“Aye.”

Surrounded by Carys’ words and comforting warmth, James could feel his doubts melt away, his body heat up, his life become brighter. He gave a tentative thrust, then another, more forceful. She moaned and arched her back. He’d already felt her spasm around him in a languorous, slow release but she needed more. As did he. He could feel the tension building in his veins, the effort it took him not to surrender to his need to pound into her. Because as soon as he increased the rhythm, he would erupt.

Could he let go? Yes, perhaps with her, he could.

“Carys.” Her name was little more than a plea.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here with you. Don’t be afraid of your pleasure. Let it come.” Her hands at his buttocks, she held him tight, keeping him sheathed deep inside her warmth. “Please, James, I need more, I need you.”

The plea broke through the last of his resistance. This was not about him, but about Carys and what she deserved to have. She was not a virgin, she was not new to pleasure, she wanted this, she deserved the best he could give her. If she needed him, she would have him.

Draping one of her legs around his waist to allow for deeper penetration, he started to pump his hips. All the while he looked deep into her eyes, increasing the connection between them. With anyone else such raw intimacy would have felt uncomfortable. With the woman who had saved him from a miserable fate and even death, it just felt right. He was about to give her what he’d never thought to give anyone else in his life.

She smiled at him—and it started. A boiling at the base of his spine. A need for release. There would be no stopping it now, and for the first time in two decades, he didn’t want to stop it. All the air left his lungs. He reared up.

“Holy fuck, I’m … ”

The rest of the sentence was covered by Carys’ own cry of release. To feel him trusting her, allowing himself to possess her without worrying about the possible consequences had sent her over the edge. The speed with which she reached her second peak told him it had been too long since she had felt her body erupt around her lover. And the moment was too beautiful for him not to follow her into the abyss.

“Stay with me,” she rasped, feeling the force of his thrusts increase. Inside her, she meant, until the end.

“Yes.” The word was little more than a gasp.

He collapsed, felled by a release so powerful he had no choice but to surrender to it. At the last moment he rolled off her, careful not to crush her under his weight.

James waited for the inevitable moment of panic. It never came. Instead, peace invaded him. He’d made it. Never again would he be afraid, because the woman in his arms was the only woman he would bed from now on.

He took her hand in his, and kissed the palm softly, gratitude and love swelling in his chest.

“I will stay with you, Carys. Always.”

The banging on the door was so loud it woke Carys up with a start. In front of her was a window she didn’t recognize and it took her a moment to understand where she was. Then she felt the weight of a masculine hand on her naked breast and everything came back to her in one luminous rush.

James.

Their night together. His body over her, his heat around her, his strength inside her. The tender words, the pleasure, the trust, the wonderful release, the falling asleep in each other’s arms. A smile stretched her lips. Their first lovemaking had been a rebirth, for both of them. And the second one, in the middle of the night, had been just as perfect, if somewhat more frenzied.

Now that they had shared a night together, they would get the second chance at life they craved.

Still half asleep, warm and loath to shake off the delicious torpor bathing her body, she covered his hand with hers and squeezed. James groaned and tightened his hold around her breast.

“Mm, yes, mine,” he said, his voice little more than a growl. Her breath hitched when he started to play with her hardening nipple, pinching it lightly. Was he about to?—

The banging started again, more insistent. James’ eyes snapped open and he glared at the door as if he had the power to skewer whoever was on the other side with his stare.

“What is it?” The sensual growl he’d used with her had become a bark.

“Forgive me. Branwen is asking after her mother,” Richard’s voice called out. “Her pains have started.”

Carys bolted upright, fully awake. Branwen was in labor? Already? They weren’t expecting her to give birth for another month at the very least. What was going on? Either Mistress Ivy had gotten the date of conception wrong or the babe was early. Lord almighty, please let it not be a problem. Would she know no peace? Just when she’d been thinking her life was perfect, this had to happen!

Everything within her surged. Dear God, her daughter needed her and here she was, lounging in bed after a night of debauchery. Then she realized what she’d heard. Richard had been sent to get her and he’d come to James’ room? How had he guessed she would be here? Did he know what had happened between her and his friend or had Matthew told him that was where she would be? He’d seemed to guess what James needed to do the day before. Matthew, Branwen, Richard. Did anyone else at Sheridan Manor know about them?

There was no time to worry about it now. She had to get to her daughter, who was waiting for her.

“Well, don’t just lie there, you big oaf, help me get dressed!” she cried, jumping out of the bed. Her clothes were scattered about the room, a reminder of the previous night’s activities, and it would take more time than she wanted to get ready, time she did not have.

Branwen needed her.

James groaned and grumbled as he did so, but he did get up to help her. “Oaf … If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather you stuck to Welsh when you insult me, that way I might not feel the sting of it so much.”

Carys instantly regretted the outburst. It was not his fault she was fretting, and he had done nothing wrong. She turned to him, an apology already on her lips—and stilled at the sight of his naked body. Lord, had she ever seen a more arousing sight? Nothing less than the birth of her first grandchild could have dragged her away from him in this moment. The look he gave her told her he was thinking the same thing. At any other time he would have dragged her back into bed and let her kiss every inch of him.

Ignoring the temptation he presented, she lifted her shift above her head and let it fall down in one swoop. The dress proved more of a challenge, however. She gave a series of curses under her breath, in Welsh this time, as she fumbled with it. Why did she have to wear, today of all days, the only gown she possessed which laced at the back?

James, who’d retrieved her second shoe from under the bed, placed a hand over her shoulder.

“Let me.” She nodded in gratitude. He’d seen her struggle and understood she was on the verge of panic. He wanted to help. She almost started to sob. With quick, efficient moves, he put her to rights, then placed a swift kiss in the crook of her neck. “All done.”

“Thank you.” Not bothering with the stockings she hadn’t been able to locate, she started to fasten her shoes. “Now I need to go.”

“Wait. Carys.” Before she could reach the door, he drew her into his arms, facing him, and looked deep into her eyes. He was still naked, and deliciously warm against her. “I love you. I know the moment is ill-chosen to say it, but I do. I could not let you leave my bed without you knowing it because I do not want you to worry that this night we shared means nothing to me. It was not just a night, it was the start of something beautiful, as beautiful as you are.” He gave a rueful smile and brought his mouth to her ear. “I had intended to take you again this morning and tell you I loved you while I was inside you but I hadn’t counted on Matthew’s son wanting to be born today.”

Carys melted. Had anyone ever heard a more moving declaration? Perhaps, but she had not.

“There is never a bad time to tell someone you love them, I don’t think.” Although she would have liked to be told while he was deep inside her, this was just as good. As long as she heard the words, she cared not when or how it happened. And he was right. This was the start of something new and they were done with waiting. Every moment had to be seized. “So I will tell you before going that I love you too.”

Only the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement when he said, his face as impassive as usual, “I thought you might. You certainly behaved as if you did last night. Or perhaps you only wanted the pleasure my body could give you.”

The teasing earned him a tap on the chest. “Awful man! As to Matthew, I fear you’ve been listening to him too much. This child might be a daughter.”

James shook his head. “He knows. Just like somehow, both times, I knew with my sons that they would be boys. I trust him. If he says it’s a son, then that’s what it is.”

Carys nodded slowly. She had heard Branwen say many times that she was convinced she was carrying a boy, without being able to explain why. So perhaps there was something in this new parent’s instinct. Unfortunately, she would never know.

“Either way, this child will be loved,” she said, placing a kiss next to his nipple, where the skin was warm and soft. “He has a big family waiting for him.”

“Yes.” James sounded suspiciously hoarse. Was he moved or aroused? Both? Before she could wonder further, he cleared his throat and gave her a tap on the buttocks. “Now, go and deliver our first grandchild.”