Page 18 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

L ast night, she said he made her body sing. Today, he wanted to make her feel like an entire heavenly choir. He would set aside his own body’s needs for as long as he could stand and devote himself to giving her the introduction to lovemaking she deserved. It’s what he should have done last night. His behavior was unforgivable, and yet, by some miracle, she was still here today, wanting him. He wouldn’t take his good fortune for granted.

Getting up, he stoked the fire. He wanted to make sure the room was warm enough for her comfort. The room had been unoccupied for a long time, and the November chill had permeated the stone walls. It would take time to heat up sufficiently, but he wouldn’t rush this, not today.

He poured some water into a basin and set it by the fire to warm. Alais gave him a puzzled look. “Trust me. I have a plan.”

He took off his cotte and hung it over a chair, leaving him in his linen shirt and breeches. The air was noticeably warmer already. He went over to the water and tested the temperature. In another few minutes, it would be perfect. Remembering something, he searched in the pocket of his cotte, pulling out the two small glass bottles of scented oil Alais had chosen. Opening the lid of each to find the one he was looking for, he dripped several drops in the warming water, and the room was filled with the scent of sandalwood. He tested the water again. It was just right.

He brought the basin of warm water over by the bed and went to grab a piece of plain linen and a small lump of soap. He invited her to sit up, offering her a hand. “I want to wash your feet.”

“What?”

“Trust me.”

There were any number of ways to help her relax and give him the chance to slow the pace of their passion and explore. He didn’t want this to be only about immediate satisfaction. He wanted to learn her and give her a chance to learn him. It was important to him to show her how much more the joining of their bodies could be than a mere satisfaction of urges, how many pleasures there were besides the strictly carnal.

After a day of travel and activity, he thought she would be footsore and would appreciate the indulgence. Besides, he knew he was really good at massages. He considered it something of a specialty. He gently placed her feet in the basin of warm, scented water. Then he ran his hands up her calves to her knees, pushing up her skirt. A shiver ran through her at his touch.

“Are you cold?”

“No,” she said, giving him a languid look.

He dipped the cloth in the water and tenderly bathed one calf and ankle, then lifted her foot from the water to bathe it. Her foot was slender and flexible, ending in shapely, delicate toes. She was slightly ticklish, he noted, something he would need to be careful of as he worked. He caressed her foot with the warm, wet cloth, then soaped his hands and began to massage, his touch slippery with lather.

Starting with her toes and working his way down to her heel, he made circles with his thumbs to loosen any tension. He explored each contour, listening carefully to changes in her breathing to learn where she was most sensitive and what gave her the most pleasure. When he’d explored every inch, loosened every muscle, and made her moan twice, he rested her calf on his shoulder and repeated his treatment on her other foot.

Every so often, he kissed her calf or nibbled on her inner thigh. The sounds she made when he did that made him want to abandon his careful plan and take her right then, but he held back, focusing on the details of her body’s reactions. She was so responsive to his touch. He’d never been with a woman so sensitive to his every caress. With Alais, he felt almost as much a novice as she. There was so much he had to learn about her, so many ways in which she was unlike anyone he’d ever known.

When he finished her second foot and placed it over his other shoulder, he leaned in, enjoying the deeply arousing view of Alais with her legs spread around him and skirts pushed up nearly to her hips, open to him in every way. She was completely his, improbable though that still felt to his doubting mind. He let out a low, appreciative “ Mm ” at the sight of her. He intended to continue his massage, but instead, he found himself nuzzling and kissing his way up the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Her breathing grew more ragged by the moment.

“Victor, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to taste your peach,” he said with a mischievous smile that she couldn’t see.

“What?” she squealed.

Instead of answering, he took a taste. She jerked beneath him, grasping his hair, and letting out a yelp. He had fantasized about this so many times. It was hard to believe this was truly happening. He buried himself in her tender folds and feasted with abandon, struggling to regain control and focus. By God, she was delicious.

He needed to keep his head to do this right, but her response was so gloriously wild. She was straining and writhing, as if not sure whether she wanted to escape his torture or invite more. He slowed his tender onslaught and took a deep breath, focusing all his attention on her and away from the increasing urgency of his own body. It didn’t matter that he was painfully aroused. Nothing mattered but her.

Bringing himself back under control, at least for the moment, he experimented with all the care and attention of an alchemist, seeking the right combination of sensations to produce the reaction he sought. He tested and teased, making mental notes of how each variation changed her breathing, the sounds she made, the way her body writhed around him. With each experiment, he refined his technique until he found the optimal combination and rhythm to drive her to the brink of insanity and over it, as he held on to her bucking hips, preventing her escape.

She went rigid beneath him, moaning his name, and gave a violent shudder. He nearly came himself watching her, but somehow he held back, determined to go slowly and do this right.

“How do you feel?” he asked, caressing her thighs, and tickling her calves.

All she could manage in response was, “ Unh .”

“Oh good,” he said with a smug grin. “We started at your toes, and we made it up to here.” He wriggled a teasing finger to tickle her between the legs, causing her whole body to lurch. “Shall I continue working my way up?”

“ Mmhmm ,” she murmured, still apparently unable to form words.

“As you wish. Of course, that means we’ll have to get this pesky dress out of the way.”

Her skirts were already pooled around her waist, and the ties of her bodice were already loose. It was a simple matter to pull her to sitting and whisk her dress away over her head. She was fully revealed in the waning sunlight, so lovely it made his heart ache.

“You too,” she mumbled, stretching out seductively on the bed.

“What was that?”

“I want to see you too,” she said more clearly. “I haven’t had a chance to take a proper look at you. We’ve always been…”

“Too busy?”

She nodded.

“Would you like to undress me?” he asked.

Whatever insecurities he had about his face, he had no such worries about his body. He knew he was lean and fit. His long limbs were muscular, shapely, and well-defined. He wasn’t excessively hairy, with a sparse sprinkling of blond curls on his chest. He had reason to believe he was more than adequately endowed. She would not find him wanting, he was sure.

“I’m guessing you’ve never seen a naked man before me?”

“Of course not.”

He smiled at that. “I must be quite a mystery.”

She bit her lower lip as she stood and stepped toward him. Tracing a finger along his jaw, drawing his mouth toward her, she took her pleasure, tasting him at length and without shame. His chest heaved with desire, but he remained passive, letting her lead the way.

Pulling his shirt over his head, she raked her nails gently down his front. He gasped as she touched his nipples. She noticed immediately and ran her thumbs over them again, watching his reaction closely. He moaned at the intensity, another part of him stiffening further in response to her teasing. She reached for him beneath his breeches, and all of him snapped to attention.

Unlacing and pushing down his breeches, she took him in her hand, not moving, but simply holding him. He thought about frozen locales to keep himself from bursting at her touch. She took a long look at what she saw before her, running a finger up the side of his stiff, hot flesh. “It’s longer and thicker than I imagined. I didn’t get a proper look at it before. That really fits inside me?”

“Oh, dear God,” he murmured, trying to imagine the icy land of the Vikings to keep from bursting.

She took him firmly in hand and whispered in his ear, “You seem to know all about what to do to make me writhe. What does that to you?”

His permanent half-smile spread into a full smile. He murmured in a strained voice, “Why should I tell you when you can figure it out for yourself?”

“Hmm,” she mused, stroking her finger along his shaft. “You tasted my peach. I wonder what happens if I return the favor.” She knelt in front of him and boldly kissed his soft, satin tip, licking away the salty drop of liquid that had formed there.

“God’s bones, woman,” he gasped. In the back of his mind, he vaguely remembered having a plan, but everything was obliterated by the feeling of her mouth on his cock. Alais de Vere was… oh dear God . It was too much. “Stop,” he yelped, pulling her up. “I need to be inside you.”

He sat on the bed and pulled her down to straddle him. She knelt above him on the edge of the bed and lowered herself onto his hungry flesh. As she slid down onto him, they both cried out; the sensation was too much. They were both too far gone. They moved with grasping desperation, all subtlety lost in all-encompassing need. “Oh God, I can’t hold on.”

“Neither can I.” She heaved and throbbed around him, as pleasure overtook her and shook her.

His whole body pulsed, and all reason left him. He’d never felt anything like it, even the other times he’d been with her. Something was different this time. That something still held him after his release, carrying him along on a wave entirely unrelated to what was happening to his body. Some barrier within him had given way, and an agonizing torrent of love nearly tore him apart.

He knew he was in love with her, had known it for some time, but he’d never allowed himself to feel it fully. He had always held it back. But now it all came pouring through him, as undeniable as a river.

It wasn’t time to speak. He couldn’t say it aloud yet, but he felt like it must be leaking out, visible to her in some way. There was no chance she returned his feelings. He didn’t want to burden her with his messy overpowering emotion. It was, frankly, terrifying to feel like this, but there was no more pushing it away.

He held her in his arms and breathed her in, trying to feel his way through the moment. She rested against him, eyes closed, breathing softly. Each tiny movement she made set off a new whirl of dizzying emotion.

He knew the instant her sadness returned. There was a slight catch in her breath, an almost imperceptible slump of her shoulders, and a tightening of her embrace. He caressed her hair. The relief and distraction he had offered her was temporary. It solved nothing. His love solved nothing. He couldn’t fix this for her, and it caused him profound pain.

But there had to be some way to help. He couldn’t just watch her suffer through this. She didn’t want him to take revenge on Robert. He would respect her wishes, but he couldn’t stand back and watch. She was worried about what his father would think. He could start there. His father would listen and be reasonable. He could fix this one thing for her and make sure she had at least one ally besides himself.

He kissed her forehead. “I need to go speak to my father. You should stay here and rest. We’ll spend the night. I’ll send a messenger to Winchelsea so that your family doesn’t worry. Is there anything I can get you? If you’re still hungry, I could have Marie send something up.”

She sighed and released him. “I’m fine. I don’t need anything. But don’t take too long. I’ll miss you.” She traced a finger down his back as he sat up to get dressed.

He rose and put on his clothes and took one last look at her, curled in his bed beneath the blankets. “I won’t be long. I promise.”

Thank you, Jesus, for my wife.

He headed downstairs to find his father who was, unsurprisingly, still at the dinner table.

“Join me,” his father said, gesturing to the chair beside him. “Marie is about to bring out some roast pork.” He was still picking at the remains of a pheasant. He poured some wine for Victor and nudged him to take remaining wing. “How is your wife?”

“As well as can be expected under the circumstances. She’s been slandered, and there’s nothing either of us can do.”

“And you didn’t marry her to save her honor after a fall from grace?”

Victor looked at the ceiling and took a deep calming breath. Even his own father wouldn’t take his word for it. He looked his father in the eye. “It’s true that she married me to save her honor, but she didn’t fall from grace. Robert was lying. I took her maidenhead on our wedding night. If you need proof, you can ask Lord and Lady de Vere to see the bloody sheet.”

“All right, all right, I believe you! No need to go talking about bloody sheets.” He poured himself more wine, and the pork arrived along with more bread. “I wouldn’t fuss too much about a little mishap anyway as long as she’s good and faithful to you now you’re married, and as long as you two get busy making grandchildren. I was starting to worry you wouldn’t marry at all.”

His father always had too much faith in him. Perhaps that’s why he was so reluctant to visit. Every time, it felt like he was letting the man down. “I always wanted to marry. I just didn’t have any prospects after I came back from Spain.”

“Well, she’s certainly fond of you. That’s plain as day.”

Victor smiled. “And I’m very fond of her.”

“Ha! You’re more than fond, my boy. You’re so in love you can hardly see straight. I’m happy for you. She’s a lovely young woman.” He raised his goblet in a toast, and Victor reciprocated.

“We’re going to stay the night, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course! Of course!”

His father was well in his cups now. It was as good a time as any to broach a sensitive subject.

“I was also wondering,” Victor said carefully, “if I might give her mother’s ruby necklace. It would mean a lot to me to be able to give her something from mother.”

“Give her all the bloody jewels. I don’t care. It all just sits in a strongbox in the cellar moldering. Besides, it would warm my heart to see them on a pretty young thing like her. Dear God, this is delicious,” he said stuffing a large bite of pork in his mouth. “Have some.”

“Thank you for the jewels, father. I appreciate it.” Most of the time, his father was generous to a fault, but occasionally, he was a maudlin fool, especially when it came to Mother. He was glad he caught his father at the right moment.

That concluded, he took a bite of pork. “Oh God, this is good. How does she do it?”

“She’s magic.”

“I’ll have to take some up for Alais.”

His father held up a hand as Victor started to rise. “Son, we need to talk about Robert. I know he’s offended you and your wife, and he’ll hear from me about it. But I don’t want you going after him. He’s still your kin. He’s been good to me. Visits me more than you do.”

Victor started to offer an apology, but his father interrupted. “I know, I know, you’re busy. I’m not finding fault.” He took another bite. “He’s always been jealous of you, you know, even when you were boys. You both made your fair share of mischief, but you were always better at avoiding getting caught. On the rare occasions when you did get caught, you faced the consequences without flinching. He, on the other hand, got caught constantly and tried to weasel out of it every single time.

“The thing is, you were better at everything—swordsmanship, riding, flirting with pretty girls, at least until your injury—and to top it off, you were the heir. It’s not his fault his father gambled away everything of value except the house in Hastings and the flour mill.”

“I don’t see how that excuses telling a lie to ruin an innocent woman’s life.”

“It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t. But she hurt him, and he told a lie to hurt her back. And now you bring her home as your wife, succeeding where he failed. That has to rankle. You’ve bested him again, and worse, you’re now in a position to produce heirs of your own, putting Guestling even farther out of his reach. He’s never had your strength of character. He isn’t capable of taking this gracefully. I’m not asking you to forgive him, only have a little pity on him, and especially, not to kill him.”

“Pity. God, I hate that word.” Victor sighed. “I already promised Alais I wouldn’t kill him.”

“Smart woman, your wife,” his father said, gesturing with his knife. “Killing him doesn’t solve anything for her. The lie is already out. All you can do is wait for people to forget or lose interest.”

Victor nodded and said nothing.

“You should take the rest of this pork up to her. Take some wine too. Newlyweds need their strength. Go make me some grandbabies.”

He dutifully took a plate and a pitcher of wine along with two goblets and headed back upstairs to Alais.