Page 16 of Lion of Thunder (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #5)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Y ou have blood on your face,” Elysande said. “Sit down and let me clean you.”

Westley did as he was told.

This wasn’t the way he’d hoped to end his wedding day, which had been a day of wonderful memories. He hadn’t envisioned himself sitting on a bed while his new wife cleaned up the blood from his face and inspected him for damage, but the moment he’d returned to the great hall, with blood still leaking from his nose and dribbling onto his tunic, the festivities seemed to be over with.

Upset at the sight, and from the entire happenstance, Elysande insisted they retire to her chamber so she could tend to her bloodied husband while Dustin, greatly concerned at the sight of bleeding Westley, offered to help. Elysande politely declined, wanting to tend him herself, and Dustin backed off. The last Westley saw of his mother, Esther was pouring her a full measure of wine in the hopes of calming her down a bit. He had to smile at that because it was the first time Esther and Dustin weren’t ready to throw fists at one another.

He was pleased to see it.

Christopher, however, followed the couple to the keep. He had seen the entire fight, but what he hadn’t seen was Olan standing out on the road having a conversation with Samson. Others had, but everyone assumed it was Olan telling the man to go back to Hell’s Forge and stay there. When Olan confirmed those observations, there was no reason to believe otherwise. Olan retreated to his chamber afterward, leaving Harker on watch as Dustin and Esther got drunk in the great hall alongside Marius, who was sleeping with his head on the tabletop.

The evening had ended with a bang.

“It is not that bad, I assure you,” Westley told Elysande, watching her move around the room in search of rags and water. “I’ve received much worse, from my brothers, no less.”

Elysande found rags, but no water to wash with, so she went to the door and called to the nearest servant for hot water.

“Your brothers are not brutes, are they?” she said doubtfully. “I am not entirely sure I like hearing that they beat you to a bloody pulp.”

He grinned. “I never said they beat me to a bloody pulp,” he said. “And nay, they are not brutes. Curtis is the eldest, the Earl of Leominster. Roi is the Earl of Cheltenham and also the chief justiciar for the king. He’s very accomplished. Myles is next, as Lord Monnington, and Douglas comes after him. He is the Earl of Axminster. There is also Peter, who is from a relationship my father had well before my mother, and he is a great agent for the king. These are great men, Ella, every one of them. They are wise and generous and I am very fortunate to have them.”

Elysande was still standing near the door, waiting for the hot water. “You are close to them?”

“All of them.”

“Then why did they not come to your wedding?”

He lifted a hand to gingerly touch his nose, determining the extent of the damage. “Because my father did not want them to,” he said. “He felt it would only create… trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

He glanced at her. “I told you I fought them before I came here.”

“You did.”

“My father was concerned that their presence might incite me to more violence,” he said. “I am the youngest. I love my brothers, but they have been known to tease me and, if the mood strikes, be hard on me. After what happened at Lioncross, my father didn’t want to take the chance that their presence at Massington would aggravate me. He thought it might make things worse.”

“Ah,” she said in understanding. “But your father’s fears were for naught.”

“Thankfully,” Westley said. “Mayhap not when I first arrived, but it was easier for me to settle into the situation without an audience.”

“What do you mean?”

“My brothers would have encouraged me to accept the situation,” he said. “Being stubborn, I would have refused because I will not always do what they tell me to do, so without them around, it was simply easier for me to make my own decision about our situation.”

“A good decision, I hope.”

“The best.”

The door was pushed open before she could reply, and a small woman with dark hair and big, dark eyes stepped in with an earthenware bowl. She was followed by two serving women carrying buckets of hot water, all of them looking at Westley and his bloodied face rather fearfully as they moved to set everything down. The servants slipped out of the chamber, but Elysande grasped the woman with the dark eyes.

“This is my cousin, Frederica,” she said to Westley. “Freddie, this is my husband, Sir Westley.”

Freddie dipped into a quick curtsy. “My lord,” she said. “Welcome to Massington.”

“Thank you,” Westley said, eyeing the woman. “I was not aware that Elysande had a cousin living here.”

Elysande answered for her. “Aye, she does,” she said. “Freddie and I are inseparable, so you will see her quite a bit.”

He nodded. “It is good that you have someone so close,” he said. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Frederica.”

Freddie nodded and fled before another word could be said. As Elysande closed the chamber door and bolted it, Westley looked at her curiously.

“What’s wrong with her?” he said. “Is she afraid of men?”

Elysande made her way over to the steaming buckets of water, picking one up to pour a measure into the earthenware bowl. “She lives in fear of my mother,” she said, carefully pouring the water in. “Her story is a strange one.”

“Why?”

Elysande finished with the water and set the bucket back on the ground. “Her mother was pledged to my father long ago,” she said. “But my mother’s family was powerful, and wealthy, and somehow they broke the betrothal and instead my mother married my father. Freddie’s mother ended up marrying my father’s younger brother, who died some time ago. In fact, both of her parents died some time ago, but when my mother sees Freddie, she thinks of her mother. I think… I think there may be a little guilt in my mother’s heart for what happened, but there is also jealousy.”

“Why?”

“Because my father loved Freddie’s mother.”

“He does not love your mother?”

Elysande shrugged. “He has never been wholly affectionate with her,” she said, coming to the beside with the steaming bowl of water and rags. “He was kinder to her when Emory was alive, but after he died, the rest of us ceased to exist.”

Westley lifted his eyebrows in sympathy. “Grief is a terrible thing,” he said. “It can do terrible things to a man’s soul. I’ve seen it for myself.”

Elysande had him tip his head back so she could get to work. She lifted the warm, wet rag but paused before using it, looking him in the eye. “Do you want to know something?”

“What?”

“My mother has been having a love affair with Harker,” she said softly. “She thinks that I do not know, but I do.”

Westley grunted sadly. “Mayhap your father’s behavior drove her away.”

Elysande began to gently clean around his nose. “They were lovers before Emory died,” she said. “She loves Harker and I think he loves her. He’s a good man, Westley. He is deserving of your respect even though I suspect you do not think much of him.”

Westley sat stock-still as she mopped up the blood from his face. “I do not know the man,” he said. “But I do not think he likes me very much.”

“Why not?”

“I’m sure he views me as a usurper.”

Elysande rinsed out the bloodied cloth, wrung it, and went to clean his chin. “Things are changing,” she said. “No one likes change very much. I tried to attack the man who had come to change my life.”

He smiled faintly. “You certainly did.”

She met his eye, grinning. “I did not succeed.”

“Regrets?”

She paused. “Not so far.”

“Good,” he said, reaching up to take the rag from her hand. “And now you are finished with this task.”

She looked him over. “There is still a little blood by your ear.”

He handed her the rag again. “Then clean it.”

She did. Once that was gone, she looked him over completely and put the rag back into the bowl. “You are finished,” she said. “But your nose is swelling where you were hit. I can make a compress for it.”

He shook his head. “Do not bother,” he said. “It will go away in a day or two. But I am more concerned now that you and I have another task to complete.”

He tilted his head in the direction of the bed, and she knew exactly what he meant. The familiar flush crept into her cheeks.

“I suppose we do,” she said as he took the rags and bowl over to the table where the cooling buckets were. “I… Well, clearly, I’ve not done this before, so you’ll have to tell me what to do.”

He set the stuff down and looked at her. “Gladly,” he said. “May we speak freely about what is expected of us? Or does it embarrass you to speak of it?”

She sat down on the bed rather stiffly. She looked nervous. “It does not embarrass me,” she said. “Should it?”

He shrugged. “If you’ve never done it before, it might.”

She thought on that a moment. “I… I suppose it is a little embarrassing,” she said. “But we are married now, so we should speak of it.”

Westley tried not to smile because he knew this was a serious matter. He sat down on the bed next to her. “It is really nothing to fear,” he said. “Everyone who is married does it. Even people who are unmarried do it, though the church frowns on that. But it’s something that can be very pleasurable, so men—and women—believe it is worth the risk.”

She was watching him closely. “Have you done this a lot?”

He cleared his throat quietly and averted his gaze. But he caught sight of her hand and picked it up, holding it in his big mitt.

“I’ve done it enough,” he said. “It is different for men, Ella.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“ Why? ”

She wasn’t going to let it go without an answer. “Because men have stronger urges than women do,” he said. “Men are animals. Women are civilized creatures. They can control their urges better than men can.”

“The urge to do what?”

He shrugged. “Procreate, I suppose,” he said. “Relations between men and women are as old as time itself. Animals do it to procreate. People do it for the same reason, only we derive some pleasure from it.”

She contemplated that. He was being factual and kind, which she appreciated. But something occurred to her as she looked down at his hand holding hers.

“This is all we have ever done,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what she meant until she lifted her hand to show him. “Hold hands?” he said.

“Aye,” she said. “We have never even kissed, not even at our wedding because we went inside the hall so quickly after the blessing that there was no chance. And now we are to do… do this… and we have never even truly touched one another. Not an embrace or anything.”

He couldn’t tell if she was distraught or not. She definitely sounded perplexed. Lifting up her hand, he kissed it tenderly, watching her face as she did so. When he saw the faint blush creep into her cheeks, he gently cupped her face with one hand and leaned forward, kissing her cheek sweetly. It was a soft cheek and he kissed it again and again before making his way to her mouth, where he gently kissed her lips.

He felt a bolt rush through Elysande, shaking her entire body.

“Did you like that?” he said, grinning. He was still very close to her, so he kissed her on the lips again, this time a little longer. “And that? Was it pleasant?”

She was staring at him, blinking rapidly. “Aye,” she said, her voice husky. “Olan kissed me once. It was not like that.”

He dropped his hand and sat back, giving her an expression of disbelief. “A man does not want to hear about another man when he is trying to seduce his wife,” he said. “Do you understand?”

She nodded quickly. “I am sorry,” she said. “I do not know why I said that. It was stupid.”

He fought off a grin. “You can think it, but you cannot say it,” he said. “How would you feel if I brought up another woman just as I was kissing you?”

“I would not like it.”

“Nay, you would not,” he said. “So no more comments about Olan, ever, or the next time I see him, I might cut off something vital to punish him for trying to steal what rightfully belongs to me.”

She was waiting for him to tell her what rightfully belonged to him, hanging on his words, when she realized he meant her. “Me?”

He rolled his eyes. “God’s Bones,” he muttered. “Aye. You .”

“Will you continue now, or are you cross with me?”

His grin broke through then. “I am not cross with you,” he said. “But I am hurt that you would think of Olan when I kissed you.”

She shook her head. “I was not thinking of him,” she insisted. “I only meant that he is the only one who has ever kissed me other than my father or mother. But his kisses were like a sunrise. Bright, but otherwise cold. Your kiss… It is as if I am standing on the sun.”

His smile broadened. “Lass, if you are trying to seduce me, then you are well on your way.”

He leaned over and kissed her again, his lips to her cheek before he kissed her chin and then tilted her head away from him so he could kiss her neck. Her skin was warm and soft and her feminine musk filled his nostrils, putting cracks in his carefully held control. But he kept his restraint, being gentle with her, trying not to overwhelm her with his size and power.

But it was oh-so-difficult.

He wanted to relax her enough that she would be compliant with anything he wanted to do to her or with her. That was a trick he’d learned from his older brothers, in fact—being very gentle but persistent with a woman, showing her how good a kiss or a touch felt, how non-threatening it was. Douglas was particularly good at it, or at least he had been. He was married now and had finished coaxing all of the women he was ever going to coax except for his wife. But Westley had learned his lessons well, and they’d served him when he met a woman he wanted to get close to.

Like now.

But, much like Douglas, this was going to be the last woman he would ever coax, too.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed as he finally pulled back to look at her. “Should we retire to the bed? Do you feel comfortable enough to do so?”

Fighting down flaming cheeks yet again, because they seemed to flame easily when Westley was around, Elysande glanced at the bed and nodded.

“Aye,” she said. “I… I think so.”

“We can wait to do this until you feel better about it, you know,” he said. “We’ve only known each other a couple of days. The truth is that we barely know each other at all. If you are uncomfortable, I understand.”

Elysande thought on that. Everything was moving with lightning speed, that was true. “It does not matter if we wait or if we do not wait,” she said. “We are married. It is not as if we can annul it. My mother would not allow it and neither would your father.”

“Do you want to annul it?”

She shook her head. “I did not mean it the way it sounded,” she said. “I simply meant that this is something we must do to consummate the marriage.”

“It is.”

“This is what will truly make us belong to one another.”

“It will make it legal in the sight of the church and the law, for certain.”

“May I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why was Samson Fitz Walter here tonight? You did not tell me.”

That was not the question he’d expected. Westley’s fire of passion was starting to burn deep in his belly, and after all of the kissing he’d just done, his manhood was semi-aroused, so he was ready to get into bed with her and she was asking questions on a completely different subject.

He tried not to show his annoyance.

“You want to speak of that now ?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I thought there might be a simple answer,” she said. “But if you do not wish to discuss it, we do not have to.”

It began to occur to him why she had asked. She’s nervous, he thought. She was trying to delay the inevitable in spite of her brave talk. Talk of Olan was one delay, and now talk of Samson was another. Understanding that, he wasn’t going to push her.

But he was going to show her what she was missing.

“He came to protest our marriage,” he said, standing up from the bed. “He says that he has a claim on you. Do you know anything about that?”

He was pulling off his clothing as he spoke, very casually, watching her face when he pulled off his tunic—or more correctly, his father’s tunic—and tossed it aside. His big muscles and broad chest were revealed, and Elysande stared at his naked flesh as she struggled for an answer.

That had been his plan.

“Well?” he said. “Do you?”

“Aye,” she finally said. “I think so. My father said he had suggested a betrothal, but when he was told I was already betrothed to a de Lohr, he went mad. Honestly, I do not know why. I do not know the man. My father said he spent time trying to ingratiate himself, which led up to the suggestion of a betrothal, but it is not as if he is a strong ally. He’s not.”

Westley grunted as he sat down to pull his boots off. “He’s more than likely an enemy now,” he said, yanking off a boot and feeling somewhat relieved that his feet didn’t smell horrible. He went to work on the other one. “I chased him off with the understanding that the woman he seeks is already married. To me.”

The second boot came off and hit the floor. Westley stood up and unfastened his breeches, sliding those down his thighs as he heard Elysande gasp. His breeches were around his ankles, his buttocks in full view, and he looked at her upside down as she sat on the bed with her head turned away.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her.

“Nothing is the matter,” she said, though her head was still turned. Quickly, she stood up and headed over to her wardrobe. “I… I suppose I should don my sleeping shift.”

He chuckled to himself as he pulled his breeches off and tossed them over a chair. Nude, he went to the fire, banked it, and then returned to her bed. It was a rather large bed for a young woman, a good size for the two of them. As he climbed in, Elysande stood over by her wardrobe and tried to use one of the doors to block his view of her undressing. Truthfully, he felt a little sorry for her, so he pulled the coverlet over his head.

“I cannot see anything,” he said. “You may undress in confidence, my lady. I will not look, I promise.”

Over by the wardrobe, Elysande turned to see that he had the blanket over his face. Truthfully, that did bring her some relief. He may have been comfortable stripping down in front of her, but she wasn’t comfortable in the least undressing in front of him.

“I do not mean to be prudish,” she said. “But I do not usually dress with an audience.”

“Not to worry,” he told her. “Since we are to share this chamber for the time being, I will purchase a dressing screen for you so that you may have some privacy.”

She pulled the red surcoat over her head. “That sounds as if it may be expensive,” she said. “I will not ask you to do that.”

“It is no trouble at all,” he said. “Hereford has a woodworker, in fact, that made such a screen for my sister. It was carved with lions on it and is quite nice.”

“If you think it is for the best.”

“Unless I want to spend the next six months with blankets over my head whenever you dress, it is for the best,” he said drolly. “I might suffocate this way.”

Suddenly, the bed gave way and Elysande jumped in, quickly covering herself up. Westley pulled the coverlet off his head, smiling as he looked over at her. She had the coverlet pulled up to her chin as she sat there, wide-eyed, looking at him. He felt rather sorry for her because she appeared absolutely terrified. Laughing softly, he cupped her face and kissed her cheek.

“What would make you feel more comfortable about this?” he said softly. “Shall I explain what I am going to do? That way, there will be no surprises, no questions?”

She nodded. “Aye,” she said. “If you can just tell me what to expect.”

He sat back against the pillows, his bare chest glorious and nude in the soft light of the chamber. Reaching out, he began to toy with tendrils of her silken hair.

“I will start by kissing you,” he said. “You may kiss me in return if you wish. You see, in order to make this a success, we must both become aroused. For me, it means their manhood becomes hard so it can penetrate your body. For a woman, it means that her body becomes… wet.”

She cocked her head curiously. “Wet?”

He nodded. “Down there,” he said, motioning to her lower regions. “You will become wet so my penetration will be easier. A woman’s body must be prepared so it does not hurt her. So I will kiss you and touch you and that will help your body become prepared. Do you understand so far?”

Elysande nodded. “I do,” she said. “Then what?”

“Then we will couple.”

“And that’s all?”

He nodded, fighting off a grin at the simplistic view she had of it. “That is all,” he said. “May I proceed?”

“Will you tell me what I need to do?”

His eyes twinkled warmly at her. “Just lie there and enjoy it,” he murmured. “That’s all you need do. For now. Can you do that?”

“Aye.”

“And if, at any time, you wish for me to stop, just tell me. Will you do that?”

She nodded. “Aye.”

“Good,” he whispered. “Now… just lie there and enjoy this. Trust me, Ella. Just… trust me.”

With that, Westley indicated for her to slide down in the bed and lie down, which she did. He followed. But the moment he lay down next to her, he realized that she was naked, too, and that fed his lust like nothing he’d ever known. He’d fully expected her to be bundled up in a suit of armor disguised as a shift, but she wasn’t. Realizing that, he pulled Elysande against him and his mouth came down on hers, so firmly that he accidentally drove her teeth into her lip. He kissed her deeply, firmly, tasting her sweetness along with the faint taste of blood. There was passion and lust in the kiss, sensations that made him gather her more tightly against him. Her arms went around his neck, timidly, and her breasts, soft and warm, were pressed against his chest. Their naked flesh touching for the first time spurred Westley to another level of desire.

Rolling over, he pulled her underneath him.

Westley loved the feel of her soft, nubile body beneath him. He moved his mouth down her neck to the exposed cleavage, tasting her collarbone so very gently. She didn’t stop him, so he continued, running on instinct. Gently, he lifted her arms, trapping them above her head, as he began to move his free hand very carefully. He very much wanted to acquaint her with his touch, something he hoped she would learn to crave.

But this was all so very new to them both.

He’d only known her such a short time, but somehow, this moment didn’t feel wrong or awkward. It felt right within the progression of their relationship, a most intimate act establishing trust and a foundation for what they were building between them. His mouth trailed away from her lips, down her neck, and to her breasts. Using his knees, he pushed her legs apart and wedged himself in between them. He was very careful about it. Releasing her arms over her head, he felt her hands settle on his shoulders as he continued to kiss the swell of her breasts. But he moved lower, to her puckered nipples, and took one in his mouth. As he suckled gently, feeling her twitch and buck, he moved one hand to the delicate heat between her legs and stroked her gently.

Elysande shuddered.

“Are you well?” he whispered, his mouth against her right breast. “I can stop if you want me to. Tell me if this is uncomfortable in any way.”

Elysande shuddered again when he touched her, and something that sounded like a moan escaped her lips. “N-nay,” she murmured. “It is not uncomfortable.”

“May I continue?”

She could only nod. Carefully, he thrust a finger into her and she cried softly, her hands against his shoulders as if to push him away, but that was only momentary. He left his finger there a moment so she could become used to it before finally moving it in and out, slowly, mimicking what he would soon be doing with his thoroughly engorged member. The woman had him so hot that he could barely contain himself. At the same time, his mouth found a nipple again and he suckled firmly.

Instinctively, Elysande’s knees came up.

She grunted every time he thrust his fingers into her tight, wet heat, her eyes closed as she experienced everything he was doing to her. He’d told her to simply lie there and enjoy it, and that was exactly what she was doing, only the things the man was doing to her were making her lightheaded. She kept forgetting to breathe. It wasn’t long before her body started to quiver, the beginnings of her first release, so Westley quickly removed his fingers and thrust his manhood into her as she began to throb with pleasurable convulsions.

Elysande was so highly aroused that the introduction of his manhood into her body seemed to propel her to a higher level of passion. It was briefly uncomfortable, but she was mid-climax when he did it, so the pleasure-pain was wildly satisfying. For his part, Westley could feel her body pulsing around him as he thrust into her, telling her how much she was enjoying this. Her gasps of pleasure filled the air until he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her with the power of the attraction he was feeling for her. In fact, he was so highly aroused that he released himself sooner than he had anticipated, spilling deep into her nubile body.

He’d never climaxed so fast in his life.

The sounds of Elysande’s gasping filled the air as Westley slowed his thrusts, finally stopping completely as he struggled to catch his breath. Beneath him, Elysande lay with her eyes closed, arms flung out to her sides, her bare breasts reflecting the firelight. Westley watched her, thinking he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

His wife.

Was this what he had railed against? Was this what he’d berated his father for? He couldn’t even remember doing it, but he knew he had. All he could see before him was something he never knew he wanted, but now didn’t want to be without. How an act he’d done for recreation, for pleasure, with no real emotional connection, could suddenly be so incredibly binding was a mystery to him. But here he was, and what he was feeling for Elysande was very, very real.

He was astonished.

As he lay on top of her, still embedded in her, she moved her arms, her hands coming up to grip Westley’s arms, and her breasts moved in the light. The sight was enough to arouse him again, and he started thrusting in and out of her again, very slowly, as his manhood began to twitch back to life. Westley had his face buried in her neck, inhaling her scent, as his hips gyrated slowly to the ancient, primal rhythm.

“Westley,” Elysande gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Oh, God… Westley… ”

Her legs were far apart, but her hands found his taut buttocks. It was a timid touch as she acquainted herself with his body, his movement, but it was an invitation to him. She wanted more of his touch, and he responded by covering her mouth with his, his kisses hot and sweet. He rubbed himself against her as he thrust, rolling his hips in a circular motion against her woman’s core, and when he felt her tremors begin again, he thrust into her more firmly as she climaxed once more in a burst of stars. It wasn’t much longer before he was able to do the same, perhaps weaker than before, but no less satisfying.

The fire in the hearth snapped softly as heavy breathing filled the room. Westley lay beside his wife, his body still joined to hers, thinking that this moment had been one of the most impactful of his life. He began to kiss her gently, familiarizing himself with her scent and taste, while a hand went to her breasts, tenderly fondling her. He was quite enjoying himself, hoping she was also, but her soft snores began to fill the chamber and he smiled, thinking that she was utterly adorable when she snored. But he continued to kiss her, and touch her, until he, too, drifted off to sleep for a time, only to awaken deep in the night with another erection that demanded satisfaction.

Elysande was more than happy to comply.

It went on until morning.