Stephen closed his eyes at her delicate touch. Never in his life had he known anything so tender or erotic. Joselyn put two hands on him, running her fingers across his skin, experiencing the texture of his body for the very first time. Then her hands moved to his shoulders, inspecting the sheer size of them, before moving to his arms. They were toned and smooth. Her hands moved back to his chest and he reached out, pulling her against him.
Neither one of them said a word. They simply gazed at one another. Joselyn’s hands came up from his chest, her fingers moving across his chin before lingering on his smooth lips. She was openly curious about him and he welcomed it. It was far better than the naked fear she had shown the night before. But Stephen couldn’t stand it any longer and he leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own.
In a flash, he flipped her from his lap and onto her back, smothering her with his enormous body. His lips gently ravaged her as his hands went to work removing her from the cranberry colored surcoat. Joselyn was so focused on his lips that she was not paying much attention to what his hands were doing until he pulled off the surcoat. The shift followed shortly. When she was stripped down to her undergarments and hose, she began to grow apprehensive.
Stephen could feel her tense beneath him and he kissed her tenderly, pulling the hose off each leg gently while murmuring against her mouth.
“No worries, sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is nothing to fear.”
Joselyn’s heart was pounding with both passion and fear. She gazed at the man’s face even as he kissed her cheeks, her nose, and his touch as gentle as a butterfly’s.
“I am not afraid,” she breathed.
It was a lie and he knew it; he could feel her body tightening. So he stopped kissing her and looked her in the eye, his blue eyes soft with desire.
“You are very brave,” he murmured. “But perhaps you did not consider that I might be afraid, too?”
Her brow furrowed as a smile played on her lips. “I do not believe that.”
“You don’t?” he lifted her hands, kissing the palms with great reverence. “I have never had a wife before. What if I do something wrong? You will be sorry that you married me.”
Her grin broke through. “You are not doing anything wrong yet.”
He nodded as if to concede the point, kissing her wrists and forearms. “I am not?” he kissed her left elbow and put her arms down, moving to her torso. He kissed her ribcage, just under her left breast. “What about that? Is that still good?”
She lifted her head slightly to watch him as her heart began to pound harder. “Aye.”
He smiled seductively, lowering his head to kiss her across her ribcage, ending up just below her right breast.
“Is that still alright?”
“Aye,” she could barely speak.
He lifted himself up slightly, kissing the skin immediately below her right breast. He was so close, in fact, that his nose brushed against her breast, causing the nipple to harden into a taut little pellet. His kisses moved nearly to her armpit before coming up again. This time, he was kissing the underswell of her breast, working his way up. When his lips closed over a peaked nipple, he suckled strongly.
Joselyn bit off a moan as his hot mouth worked her distended nipple. A big hand came up, gently fondling the breast as he continued to suck. Her arms, having lain inactive at her side, suddenly came up and her fingers intertwined in his black hair, pulling at the inky strands. He began to work both breasts, suckling her nipples with increasing strength until he was positively merciless with his attentions. Beneath him, Joselyn writhed and groaned with awakening desire. Then suddenly, he pulled himself up from her breasts and enclosed each one in a massive hand. His mouth found hers once more and he ravaged her with his lips as his hands massaged her warm breasts, damp with his saliva.
“Was that still good?” he breathed against her mouth.
She nodded incoherently and Stephen’s hands left her breasts, removing her undergarments swiftly. His mouth blazed a heated trail down her neck, back to both breasts momentarily, before working its way down to the dark fluff of curls between her legs. His enormous hands moved to grasp her tender white buttocks, holding her pelvis to his mouth as he devoured the flesh of her lower belly. But when a hand touched the tender junction between her legs, she stiffened like a corpse.
His head snapped up, gazing into her fear-filled face. He stroked her cheek, her hair, gently.
“If I have not done anything wrong so far, will you still trust me?” he whispered.
She nodded although he could see tears in her eyes. His eyes grew intense.
“I know that the last time a man was this close to you, unspeakably horrible things happened,” he murmured. “You did not deserve that and I will do all in my power to show you that the intimacy between a man and a woman is anything but horrific. It can be the strongest, most binding experience you will ever have. It will be pleasurable and it will be wonderful. Do you believe me?”
She nodded her head, breaking down into soft sobs. “Aye,” she squeaked. “But… but you are not disgusted with me?”
His brow furrowed. “Good God, why would you ask that?”
“Because another man has touched me before you.”
“It was not your fault,” he said. “That soldier may have taken your innocence, but that is a very small part of what we are about to do. I am showing you what joy there is in intimacy between a man and a woman. No one on earth has ever shown you that, have they?”
“Nay.”
“Then that, my dear lady, you have indeed saved for me, whether or not you knew it.
She began to weep more deeply and he lifted himself up, gathering her into his arms and pulling her close. His lips were on her forehead as he spoke.
“Hush, sweetheart,” he murmured. “There is nothing to fear. I know you are terrified, but I promise you, there is nothing to fear. Please believe me.”
She nodded and he held her face between his two enormous hands, kissing her forehead, her damp eyes, soothing her gently with his tender touch. When he moved back to the dark curls between her legs, he made sure to do it calmly and sweetly so she would not be overly startled. He began by gently caressing her inner thighs.
“What we are about to do is as old as man himself,” he told her, kissing her breasts as he stroked her skin. “It is something every woman goes through, unless she is ugly and destined to be an old maid.”
That brought giggles. But those giggles were quickly quelled as he began kissing the skin of her inner thigh. Joselyn realized quickly that she liked it very much. His mouth moved to the dark hair between her legs and he gently opened her legs wider, kissing the spongy curls and gently running his fingers over the thick lips. He felt her tense again and he lowered his head, gently suckling on the outer flesh of her Venus Mound.
From fear to utter delight and back again, Joselyn’s head was spinning with a variety of sensations. Stephen’s touch had her distracted and his bass voice had her lulled into contentment.
“A woman’s center is quite lovely,” he murmured. “’Tis pink and pretty, like a flower unfurling.”
As he spoke, he gained a good look at her most private area. His fingers pulled her exterior lips apart and he was greeted with a scar that ran from her birth canal all the way to her anus. It was a thick, nasty scar and he could see immediately what she had been talking about; the birth tore me asunder. From the look of the scar he was surprised she hadn’t bled to death. His stomach lurched at the thought of pain and anguish she undoubtedly went through. To think of such a lovely, sweet creature being subjected to such horror filled his chest with rage but he fought it. He calmed himself by knowing he would protect her from all things from now on. And more than ever, he was determined to seek justice for the crime against her.
He dipped his head and kissed the scar, nearly bringing her off the bed. But his hands stilled her, his gentle words soothed her, and his kisses resumed on the interior of her thigh. His f
ingers, so big yet so gently, stroked her intimately and he could feel her wetness the more he stroked. He moved to kiss her belly and focused on her delicious breasts again as he slipped a finger into her tight, scarred passage.
Joselyn did nothing more than moan as he thrust into her with his finger, more distracted by his mouth on her nipples. When Stephen finally lifted himself and placed his enormous manhood at her threshold, she hardly noticed. In fact, he thrust so gently into her that she didn’t even realize he was inside her until he was about halfway seated.
Then she tensed again. But Stephen would have no part of it. He was so highly aroused that he would let nothing interfere with this moment and he gathered her close, kissing her deeply as he fully seated himself with firm, smooth pressure. Joselyn gasped and squirmed as he impaled her on his manroot, but to her credit she did not weep. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held fast, struggling to adjust her body to this invasive presence that was nothing as she had remembered from eleven years ago. Stephen’s sensual invasion was warm, seductive, tender and passionate. He had done everything possible to ease her. And, not surprisingly, all she felt was ease.
And then he began to move in her, slowly at first, using his powerful buttocks to thrust gently into her small body. But his pace grew faster, his thrust more powerful, and Joselyn felt a wildly pleasurable jolt every time he would thrust his full length into her. It was as if his manhood was touching a special area deep within her body, something that, within just a few minutes of Stephen’s measured thrusts, suddenly erupted in a burst of stars that rippled throughout her body.
A soft yelp escaped her lips and her body stiffened and pleasurable tremors raced through her. Stephen, feeling her release milking at his manroot, answered by spilling himself deep into her body. Even when they were both sated as their glorious tremors faded, he still continued to move within her, not wanting the experience to end. As he slowed his thrusts and caressed her silken skin, taking equal pleasure in the tactile as well as the emotional, words like Duty and Task popped into his mind. Into the dimness, he smiled; never in his life had he been given a duty that was less of a task and more of a pleasure. She was a pleasure.
They slept.
CHAPTER FIVE
De Lara was up before dawn, walking the battlements of Berwick. The sun was threatening to rise and the eastern sky was turning shades of lavender and pink. Just as he passed through the gatehouse arch along the castle walls, he ran straight into Stephen. He looked startled to see the man.
“I did not know you were awake,” Tate said. “I thought you would still be with your wife.”
Stephen was clad in pieces of armor and mail, not his usual full battle regalia. He was shaved and even combed, looking extremely relaxed. Tate had a difficult time keeping the smile of his face as he watched Stephen’s very contented expression.
“I have been up for a couple of hours,” he replied. “I had to see Edward before he left. Moreover, I would be a poor garrison commander not to have my finger on the pulse of the outpost. I have been making my rounds.”
“I did not mean to intimate that you were a poor commander and well you know it,” Tate lifted an eyebrow. “I simply meant that you are occupied with a new wife who quite obviously has your attention. There is no shame in that.”
Stephen cast him a long look, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I would not be ashamed of her in any case,” he replied, his blue eyes moving to the eastern horizon. “In fact, I was probably a fool to have resisted this marriage at the first. It is a great honor.”
“Did you tell Edward that?”
“I did,” he turned to look at Tate again. “And I asked for another five hundred men to reinforce the city.”
Tate leaned against the parapet, his smoke-colored eyes watching the sunrise. “Did he tell you that I have already sent word to Henry of Lancaster for a contingent? I asked him last night when I could not find you anywhere. Assuming you were indisposed, I went ahead and made your request.”
“He told me,” Stephen replied. “It seems as if I will have a thousand men here in the next month to reinforce my ranks. Edward is leaving today, by the way. Are you leaving as well?”
Tate nodded. “I see no reason to stay since you have things well in hand,” he replied. “Moreover, I am anxious to return home to see my wife and children.”
“Give Toby my best.”
Tate straightened up and slapped Stephen on a broad shoulder. “I will.”
He began moving toward the tower stairs but Stephen called to him. “Would you please do me a favor before you leave?”
“Of course.”
Stephen crossed his massive arms and moved toward him pensively. “Will you ask Lady Pembury about the man who raped her before you go? If this man is still in your ranks, I would have him sent to me immediately.”
Tate nodded slowly. “I would be pleased if you would allow me to punish the man if, in fact, he is still in my ranks.”
Stephen looked at him, the cornflower blue eyes hard. “I appreciate the offer, but I must dispense punishment. It is my right and my privilege.”
Tate understood. He could also see that the husbandly right of punishment went beyond mere honor; there was a glimmer in Stephen’s eyes that spoke of something deeper. If Tate didn’t know better, he would suspect that Stephen was feeling something for his lovely new wife. It did not displease him.
“As you say,” he replied. “Shall I seek her out now?”
Stephen shook his head. “She is not awake yet. Perhaps when she breaks her fast.”
Tate was nearly at the tower stairs; the bailey was to his right, most of the expanse visible between the keep and the great hall. Movement down below caught his eye and he turned to see a small figure in a cranberry colored surcoat moving through the early dawn towards the great hall. Lady Pembury seemed to be in a hurry. Tate dipped his head in the direction of the bailey.
“Your wife is an early riser,” he said, watching Stephen make his way over to the parapet in time to see Joselyn disappear into the rectangular great hall. “She must have a great deal to do today if she is up so early.”
Stephen was heading for the stairs before Tate could get to them. They took the narrow spiral stairs quickly and emerged into the ward. Tate suppressed a smile at Stephen’s apparent eagerness to get to his wife; the man was practically running.
“There is one more thing, something I was thinking on this morning,” Stephen said as they crossed the dusty bailey. “Do you know of Ettrick Castle?”
“I do. It is held by the Earl of Buccleuch, Lord Alexander.”
“Do you know the man personally?”
“I have met him twice but I would not say that we know one another. He is allied with John Balliol. Why?”
Stephen paused when they reached the door leading to the great hall. He scratched his head awkwardly, as if still thinking through what he was attempting to say.
“I did not tell you everything about my wife’s rape at the hands of the English soldier,” he said in a low voice. “The rape resulted in a child. That was why her father sent her to Jedburgh; to be rid of both her and the baby. When the baby came of age, he was sent to Ettrick Castle to foster.”
Tate gazed steadily at him but not without some sympathy. He finally shook his head sadly. “Good Christ,” he muttered. “She has known much sorrow, has she not?”
Stephen nodded faintly. “From what Joselyn tells me, the lad was never told that she was his mother. He was led to believe that he was an orphan. She intends to tell the boy someday about his parentage, minus the part about his father, but I thought perhaps that now that we are married, I would adopt the boy and bring him to live with us.”
Tate considered that option. “A truly generous gesture, Stephen,” he murmured. “Does your wife know about it?”
“I have not mentioned it.”
“How do you think she will feel? That boy is the result of a brutal act. Perhaps she does not wish to be remi
nded of it on a daily basis.”
“She is his mother. I believe that is a stronger instinct than the horror of her attack.”
“Will you ask her at least?”
Stephen nodded. “I will,” he muttered. “If she agrees, I would like for you to contact the Earl on my behalf and request that the boy be sent to Berwick.”
Tate knew Stephen to be a deeply compassionate man but even he was surprised at the man’s selflessness. It took a very good man to do what Stephen was suggesting, accepting his wife’s child that was the result of a horrible crime years ago. Wanting to adopt the boy was a supreme gesture of benevolence. He clapped the man gently on the shoulder.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“Very sure.”
Tate shrugged his big shoulders. “Then if your wife agrees, I will ride to Ettrick myself and retrieve him.”
Stephen seemed to be greatly relieved. With a weak smile, he led Tate into the great hall.
It smelled like smoke and old rushes. Joselyn was standing on the eastern end of the expansive room, speaking with an older serving woman who wore a severe wimple on her head. Her hair was pulled into a delightful braid, draping over one shoulder as curling tendrils of dark hair escaped it. Stephen and Tate approached her from behind and the serving woman, seeing the knights coming, fled.
“Lady Pembury,” Stephen addressed his wife as she turned to greet him. “You are looking well this morning.”
She smiled so radiantly at him that Tate felt as if he was intruding on a very private moment.
“Good morn to you, Husband,” she said sweetly, looking to Tate and nodding her head. “And to you, Lord de Lara. It is a fine day today.”
They were both so happy and cheerful that Tate fought off a grin. It was like watching two giddy children. “Indeed, my lady,” he said, clearing his throat softly when a brief pause followed. “Lady Pembury, I was wondering if I might have a word with you.”