Page 15 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

T he wedding ceremony was quick and quiet, carried out in the family chapel in the castle instead of at the church. Late afternoon sun poured through the stained glass and dappled the small group of attendees. There was no time for a new dress, so Alais wore her favorite red one, the same dress she wore the day she met Sir Victor. She carried a bouquet of white autumn crocuses from the castle garden that she’d picked herself. Sir Victor wore a black velvet cotte with gold embroidered trim over plain black breeches. She couldn’t help thinking how lucky she was to be marrying such a noble and honorable man, and she admired his striking figure and warrior’s face.

Her heart raced as he promised to be hers to have and to hold until death parted them. The holding part sounded especially delicious. She’d hardly been able to think of anything else since their kiss the night before. Throughout the ceremony, he kept giving her inquiring looks, as though expecting her to interrupt or stop the proceedings. He himself went through every step and spoke every word of his vows without hesitation, his face full of devotion, which was surprisingly tender, considering he was only marrying her to help her save face and her reputation, and especially keep her out of the nunnery. She was marrying a good man, she thought to herself as he took her hand and led her from the chapel. And he certainly wasn’t a sheep.

There was no wedding banquet, only a family dinner. She kept glancing at her new husband, looking for some sign of affection or the passion she had tasted so briefly when they’d kissed the day before. She even reached out during dessert and put her hand on his thigh beneath the tablecloth. He stiffened and reddened at her touch, gently removing her hand without looking at her. She risked another glance. He looked pained. Perhaps he was worried her family might see. She could be patient, within reason.

At long last, they were alone together. A large canopy bed dominated the modest room where they were to spend their first night together, just down the hall from her own. Alais turned to look at the man who was now her husband, giddy with anticipation of what was to come. But his jaw was clenched. He averted his eyes, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Don’t worry, Lady Alais,” he said to the floor. “I won’t trouble you tonight.”

“Call me Alais. We’re married. What do you mean you won’t trouble me?”

“You married me to salvage your reputation. It’s safe now. I’ve served my purpose. I don’t expect you to take things any further.”

“But—”

“I’ll sleep on the floor. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to sleep. It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. I’m sure you are too.”

He pulled some blankets and pillows to the floor, stripped down to his breeches, lay down, and closed his eyes, all without looking at her. She stood still, watching him, unable to wrap her head around what was happening, or rather what wasn’t happening. Her mother had been quite clear on what was expected. So had Carenza. And most of all, she wanted him so much. How could he simply refuse?

She took off her dress in plain sight, hoping he might watch, but he didn’t. She climbed into bed wearing nothing but her shift, and he lay on the floor with his eyes firmly shut. She blew out the candle and stared into the dark, wondering what she could possibly do now. Sleep would not come. She was too aware of his presence, of every minute human sound, of the possibility that he could come to her, and the undeniable fact that he had not.

An hour passed, and Alais could hear Victor’s deep, regular breathing. At least he was sleeping soundly. She was still staring at the ceiling in the dark. It was intolerable. This could not continue. So she got up, pulled off her shift, and silently laid herself down, naked, by his side. She leaned over him and brushed his lips with her own. He gave a start.

“Lady Alais, what are you doing?” he mumbled.

“Just Alais. We have to consummate the marriage,” she said quietly. “If we don’t, it’s not legal.”

She twined herself around him, the rough fabric of his breeches grazing against her inner thigh and the heat of his chest against her bare breasts. She nuzzled his neck.

“Oh my God, you’re naked,” he gasped, his whole body tensing.

“Isn’t that usually how this works?” She touched her lips to his and ran her fingers through his hair, and she felt a rush of relief as he kissed her back. His lips touched hers with a tenderness and reverence that stirred her to her core. She let herself dissolve into his kiss, surrendering to the moment. Yes, this was what she’d dreamed of. At last, she was free to unleash her passion.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he rasped, trying to pull away after a moment, but she leaned in for another kiss, this one hungrier, more desperate. His hands explored her shape and pulled her to him, caressing each curve. She felt heavenly as he awakened her body with his touch. She moved to close the tiny gaps that remained between them, her fingers digging into his back in hunger.

“Wait. Lady Alais, wait,” he said pulling away, panting. “You married me out of necessity. It wouldn’t be honorable for me to force myself on you under the circumstances. You don’t have to do this.”

Alais stared at him in the dark. He must be joking. Was she not making it clear that she wanted to do this? She pulled him into another kiss, determined to put an end to doubt, but he pulled back again.

“My good name is yours. I don’t expect anything in return. I won’t take advantage of you when you’ve already been through so much.”

“But I married you.” She made vows. So did he. Was he having second thoughts? “You don’t want me?”

“Of course, I want you. Dear God, I want you so much.”

“Then take me.” She placed one of his hands on her breast, and he groaned as she leaned into him, welcoming his touch. His hand felt so good against her bare skin, she reached out to pull the other one toward her.

“No, I can’t,” he pleaded quietly, removing his hand, leaving her panting in desperation.

“Why?”

“Lady Alais, please don’t.” He extracted himself from her embrace and sat up, his back to her.

How could he do this to her? He wanted her as much as she wanted him, she was sure of it. She had felt him spring to life beneath his breeches, and his body, hot and hard pressed against her thigh before he pulled away. She knew what it meant. While she’d never seen a naked man, she understood the mechanics. If he wanted her, what was the problem?

How dare he pretend this was about what she wanted when she was throwing herself at him. It was insulting, humiliating.

In a fury, she got up, lit a candle, and started pacing. He turned his face away, as if he couldn’t stand to see her nakedness. “How do you think this ends, Sir Victor ? Imagine we decide not to consummate this marriage. How is that any better for me than living in an abbey? I don’t want to spend my life alone, untouched. Believe me when I tell you I am not cut out to live like a nun.” She shuddered. “Why won’t you consummate this marriage? What is it you are so afraid of?” She dropped to her knees so that she could look him in the face. He looked hard, determined, as if bracing himself for extreme pain. And then a realization hit her.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. You believe Sir Robert, don’t you? You think I’m compromised, and you’re ashamed to be married to me.” It all made sense now. And here she’d been so certain he was the one person who believed her without proof. She’d clung to it. The fact that he knew she’d kept her virtue had made all the rest bearable. Except that now he doubted her. He was ashamed of her. Tears stung her eyes, and she dashed them away with her fist.

“Of course not.” His eyes met hers at long last. “I knew it was a lie. And even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t care.”

“Then what ?”

There was a long silence. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in some inner struggle. She tried to be patient. She tried to understand, but with each passing second, she was more convinced that somehow, she had failed him. He was ashamed of her, or disappointed. She’d let him down, and she didn’t know how.

“I’m not the man you wanted, and I don’t want a pity fuck, Alais. I can’t do it. Not with you.”

Oh. She took a deep breath and another. She didn’t begin to know how to argue with him. If marrying him didn’t convince him, she didn’t know what she could possibly say that would help him see the truth.

“I don’t pity you, and I don’t regret marrying you. I wanted to marry you. I’ve never met anyone so brave and honorable. Didn’t you see me wearing your token at the tournament? Why do you think I did that? Everyone else treats me as a pretty, brainless fool. But you see the real me. You respect me. You see me as more than a pleasing face. And I want to give myself to you.”

“It was my duty to guard and protect you then, and it remains my duty now. Believe me, I know you’re so much more than a pleasing face. But I also know I’m not the husband you dreamed of. If not for my cousin’s lies, you could have had your pick of eligible men. You could have had someone whole and undamaged.”

She couldn’t let that stand. “You are whole and undamaged in every way that matters. You see more in me than my appearance. Why is it so unthinkable that I would see more in you? I know I was unspeakably cruel to you the first time we met, but I’ve learned the error of my ways. You’ve been my champion without asking anything in return. Let me show you how much that means to me.”

Still, he shook his head. “It would be dishonorable for me to take advantage when you were forced by circumstance into this marriage.”

She’d never seen him look so miserable.

There had to be something she could do, some way to move past his overblown sense of duty and chivalry. She’d bared her heart, and he still didn’t believe her. The situation would be funny if she wasn’t so desperate. She stood up and started pacing again. “You’re worried about honor? Then why won’t you take me? If there’s no blood on these sheets in the morning, they’ll all think Sir Robert’s stories were true. Victor, I’m begging you. Please.”

She climbed on the bed and waited. He still didn’t join her.

“Even begging isn’t enough?” She thought in desperation of one last thing she could try. It was a risk, but she was prepared to do anything to bring him to her. “Let me prove to you that I’m not cut out for a life of celibacy.”

She couldn’t believe what she was about to do, but it was the only thing she could think of to lure him to her. She’d been so careful never to let anyone catch her. She knew it was wicked, knew that what she was about to do would prove that she was exactly the wanton that everyone thought she was, even if a man had never touched her. But she also knew he was a man who visited Birdie Street, a man who might respond to a provocative act. It just might work to overcome his resistance. She reached her hand between her legs and began to stroke herself.

“I may be a virgin, but I have a very bad habit, Victor.” She gasped in anguished pleasure. The knowledge that he was there, that he was watching her do this forbidden thing made the pleasure and shame so much sharper. “ Now do you believe I’m not cut out for life at the abbey?” She moaned as the sensation intensified.

“Holy Mother of God,” he whispered. “This can’t be happening.”

“I want you to touch me. I want you to take me. I’m yours to have and to hold. Be with me, Victor,” she purred as waves of sensation shook her.

At last, he undressed and stepped toward her, lowering himself to the mattress beside her. She could smell his musk of leather and wood smoke.

“Please, I’m begging you.”

He pulled back, taking her hand away, and looked at her, serious and wary.

“You want me?” His voice was rough, hoarse with emotion.

“Yes, I want you.”

“Because I won’t take you if you have any doubts.”

She raised her hand and cupped his cheek. “Do you know whose face I was picturing as I touched myself?”

“Alais, please don’t—”

“Yours. I want you .”

He took a shuddering breath as he hovered above her. “Before we do this, I want to be absolutely clear. Do you want me as your husband, or did you marry me to solve a problem? Because I thought this was a marriage of convenience. Or maybe desperation. You needed my name, and I’ve given it to you. But are you saying you want to be with me, that you truly want to be my wife?”

She stared in disbelief. “I am your wife.”

“Alais—” he began but then closed his mouth at the look she gave him.

“Do I strike you as unwilling, hesitant? I’m lying naked beneath you, begging you to take me. Why are you humiliating me like this?” She was shaking with fury and overwhelming desire.

“Alais, I’m sorry. I truly didn’t expect this.” He caressed her cheek. “If you want me, I’m yours.”

“I want you.”

Something shifted in his face, like a dam breaking. Suddenly, he clutched her with furious strength, grinding his hips against her. “And if I’m yours, then you’re mine.” He pulled her into a desperate kiss, squeezing her too hard and nearly suffocating her with his ardor. “Mine, Alais. No going back. No annulment. No lovers. Only I touch your body. Only I kiss your lips. Anyone else tries, and they die. Do you understand, Alais?”

Oh, for God’s sake. “Yes, I understood the vows I made to you before God and my family in the chapel today. Did you? Because it seems like you have a lot of questions.”

“I can’t take this anymore. I need you. Now.”

He reached down to replace her hand with his own. She cried out as the intensity sharpened at his touch.

“Kiss me,” she begged as her body arched beneath his touch. Suddenly, his lips were on hers, his tongue tasting her, twisting, and teasing. He stroked like a master musician, playing a subtle melody and then strumming deeper chords that touched her very soul.

“You are exquisite,” he murmured, nibbling on her ear. “Every last inch of you.”

His mouth traced a trail of fire down her neck, her shoulder. He kissed his way down her chest, between her breasts, then traced the crease beneath one breast with his tongue, swirling up to the peak until it brushed over the bud of her nipple.

And then he pulled back. She gasped at the sudden absence, feeling a cool sensation where his tongue had traced, the tips of her breasts hardening as if straining toward the absent warmth of his mouth. His fingers continued their tantalizing dance, making her moan and wail, awash in sensation.

“More,” she pleaded, barely able to form words. Moments later, his lips brushed against her breast again, followed by his tongue, flicking and circling, teasing her nipple until she was writhing with need. She’d never known her breasts were so sensitive, that she could feel such joy and desperation in every part of her body from such a delicate sensation. Then he grazed it gently with his teeth, and she lost her mind. Her back arched off the bed. Her whole body trembled. The pooling heat between her legs pulsed and throbbed. He put a finger inside of her, and she moaned, “Oh, Victor…”

She looked into his face. As he drove her to the brink, she saw a swirl of emotions in his eyes—hunger, tenderness, desperation, and even, love. As she thought the word “love,” something within her squeezed, and she convulsed from head to toe. He made a quiet noise that sounded almost pained, as he slid another finger inside of her.

“This can’t be real,” he murmured as he moved his mouth to her other breast. “I’ve dreamed of you so many times, but all of my dreams fall short. So far short. Oh my God.” He gave a desperate moan as he suckled her and her back arched again. Her body trembled. She was so close, and she wanted all of him.

“Victor, I need you. Take me now, please,” she begged, desperate for him to fill her and bring her to fruition.

“Not yet. First, I want to watch you melt. I want to see you fall to pieces. Let me take you soaring through the heavens.”

Something shifted in the way he was touching her, and she couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much, the intensity too great. She writhed to escape, but his fingers were relentless, pushing her to the brink and then over it. And then…. And then everything dropped away. She soared, floating through sparkling stars, her body a vessel of pure sensation.

“My God, that was gorgeous,” he said in an awed whisper as she came back down to earth, tingling and catching her breath.

Her body was warm and languid, but she knew they were far from done. He had to enter her. They needed to consummate, and however lovely she felt, it wasn’t enough. Not yet. She reached out and ran her fingers lightly down his chest and his belly and grasped his naked flesh, running her hand up and down the hard and velvety skin that felt so different from any flesh she had ever touched. He made an odd squeak and took deep, rasping breaths.

“Now take me,” she demanded, as his flesh twitched in her hand. She pulled him toward her center, and he shifted to hover over her, placing his legs between hers. Wrapping her legs around him, she pulled his hips against hers, opening herself, offering herself.

He slid into her, pressing forward slowly until she felt him reach some unseen barrier.

“Oh God, I can feel it. After this, there’s no going back.”

By way of answer, she put her hands on his buttocks and pulled him into her with as much force as she could muster. She wanted this done, once and for all, and she gasped at the welcome pain as he broke through her maidenhead. It was such a precious vindication, the final proof that Robert’s lie was just that.

He cried out, embedded to the hilt within her.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, not sure whether the sound he made was pleasure or pain. Her own moment of pain quickly disappeared in a flood of profound relief that the deed was finally done.

Panting and gasping, he whispered, “I’m supposed to ask you that.”

“I’m fine. Just don’t stop.”

And so she watched his face as they started to rock together. “I’m yours, Victor, all of me,” she murmured to the rhythm of their coupling. “I’m your wife. I want you just like you want me. No one will touch me but you. No one will kiss me but you. You are the only man I want. Take me. Make me yours. Love me.”

And he did.

She could feel the ripples of each thrust on top of her head, in her fingertips and toes. Like the body of a lute, she vibrated at his strokes. The pace of the music quickened, and she thrummed beneath him, chords feeding into each other, driven by his steady rhythm. Their music grew wilder and more raucous until her whole body stretched taut, like a string being plucked, just before its release. And then everything dissolved in an explosion of sensation far beyond anything she had felt before.

As if from a great distance, she heard Victor cry out her name as his flesh within her spasmed and pulsed and then slowed. He lingered inside her as his release subsided, each tiny pulsation from him creating an answering frisson in her. He rolled to the side at last, and they both lay panting.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he whispered.

She curled against him, resting her head in the crook of his arm, and tried to sort out her tangled thoughts and emotions. One tear and another dripped down onto his chest. She tried to hold them back, but it was no use.

“Alais?”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

“What is it? Do you regret—?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

What could she say? She wasn’t sure she knew the answer herself. It wasn’t regret. There was no one else she would rather have given herself to. But when she’d imagined her wedding night, she never dreamed she would have to plead with him at every step. There was blood on the sheet now. She was vindicated, but somehow, she still felt like a disgrace.

“What is it? Please tell me. I need to know.” There was an edge in his voice, an undertone of panic.

“Why did you make me beg?”

“What?”

“Everyone thinks I’m ruined, but I didn’t feel that way until you made me beg. Why did you do it?”

He looked stricken.

“My God, Alais, I’m so sorry. This was your first time. I should never have done that to you. I truly didn’t realize…. I still can’t quite believe…. But that’s no excuse. This should have been a very different night for you. I should have treated you with tenderness and affection, not made to beg and plead. You’re not ruined, Alais. You take joy in your body, and that’s a beautiful thing. I don’t ever want you to feel ashamed of your pleasure with me.”

For some reason, this made her cry even harder.

“What do you need? I’ll do anything. Please tell me what you need from me.”

“Just hold me, please. That’s all I want.”

He blew out the candle and held her in the darkness. As the tears petered out and she drifted off to sleep, she snuggled into his warmth, praying tomorrow would be better.