“Let us retire, Lady de Nerra.” God, how he loved using that title for the first time. “I am sure Brooke is exhausted and wishes to sleep. Bid her a good night and we shall see her on the morrow.”
In control for most of the evening, Gray suddenly looked as if she was about to burst into tears. She reluctantly let Braxton lead her away, her gaze lingering on her daughter as the distance between them grew. Brooke just stood there with her head down, looking at her feet. When Gray and Braxton finally disappeared into the tent, Dallas spoke.
“You must be very tired,” he said in a quiet, deep voice.
She nodded, still looking at her feet. “I… I am, a little.”
“Perhaps we should retire.”
Woodenly, she headed for the tent. Dallas followed. He reached over her head to shove the flap out of the way and she froze when she entered; Norman and Edgar were finishing laying out the bedrolls. An oil lamp sat on the ground, burning brightly in the black of the tent. The boys looked up at her, uncomfortable emotions in their eyes as they gazed at her, but just as quickly lowered their heads and vacated the tent. Brooke swallowed hard as the shelter cleared, leaving her standing there with Dallas, still in the doorway.
“My lady?” Dallas urged her gently inside.
Brooke took a few strained steps into the tent, startled when Dallas let the tent flap fall shut. He was quiet as he removed pieces of his armor, down to his hauberk. She just stood there, unmoving and uncertain. Then he turned to her.
“My lady,” he said. “Would you be so good as to help me?”
She eyed him with hesitation but obediently went to him. “What would you have me do, my lord?”
He bent over and extended his arms to her. “Pull on the mail.”
She grabbed hold, timidly at first, but then got a good grip on it and yanked. She almost pulled his head off and he pitched forward against her. He grabbed her so he would not topple her over, still restrained by his half-removed hauberk. Brooke took hold again and pulled and pulled. Because he was sweaty, the mail seemed to want to stick to him and to his padded shirt beneath. She only managed to remove one arm and was still struggling with the other when she heard a low rumble.
She paused, wondering where the sound was coming from. It took her a moment to realize that Dallas was laughing.
Brooke dipped her head so she could look him in the face; because of the placement of the hauberk, he couldn’t lift his head. “What’s so funny?”
He was giggling like a fool. “I am not sure,” he gasped. “But the more you pull, the more twisted I become.”
In spite of herself, Brooke grinned and gave another yank. The hauberk got stuck around his ears, covering his face. Dallas only laughed harder and Brooke’s grin broadened.
“What should I do?” she demanded. “You are stuck.”
He snorted and snickered. “Just keep pulling,” he told her.
She did. Eventually, the piece came off, but not before it almost ripped his ears off. Brooke fell back with the weight of it when it finally came free, falling on her arse as she did so. But it was very humorous. When she fell on the ground, she laughed uproariously. Dallas stood there with his hands on his hips, looking down at her.
“You are going to have to become much more adept at helping me dress or I shall have my ears ripped off every time,” he scolded with a grin on his face.
She shrugged, trying to get back up. He pulled on her arm and set her on her feet.
“This is my first experience with removing armor,” she told him.
“I can tell.”
She tossed the hauberk back at him and he deftly caught it. “I haven’t had years of practice like you have.”
Laughter fading, he threw the hauberk to the ground with the rest of his armor. “You will from now on, I promise.”
He went about removing what was left of his leg armor. Levity waning, Brooke felt her trepidation rise once again as she watched him. She had many questions and many fears, and she knew that he was the only one who could satisfy them. She summoned her courage.
“Sir Dallas?”
He looked at her. “I am your husband, my lady. You do not have to address me as ‘Sir’.”
She cocked her head. “And I am your wife. You do not have to address me as ‘my lady’.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “True enough.”
“But it seems strange to call each other by our names so informally, doesn’t it? We hardly know each other.”
His smile grew. “It does indeed. We will do whatever you are comfortable with.”
It was a kind statement. Brooke was comforted by it somewhat. He didn’t seem pushy or assertive of his new role. Her courage grew.
“Maybe we should talk and get to know one another,” she suggested.
He sat down on one of the bedrolls. Without his armor and clad only in his breeches and padded linen undershirt, he appeared far less imposing. He gazed up at Brooke and she studied him as if just seeing him for the first time; he had a nice, square jaw and a handsome face. His eyes were deep blue, like a lake on a warm summer day, and his long blond hair dusted the tops of his shoulders. It was very attractive hair, she thought to herself. He was attractive.
“An excellent suggestion,” he said. “What would you like to know?”
The focus was back on her. Hesitantly, she sat opposite him on the other bedroll. “Well,” she said slowly. “Where were you born?”
“At my family’s home in Cornwall,” he said. “My father is Baron Lisvane, a title he inherited from his father.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I have an older brother. His name is Ferris.”
“Is he a knight?”
“Aye, and a good one.”
She thought of more questions. “Where did you learn to become a knight?”
“At Okehampton Castle in Dorset. I spent twelve years there before receiving my spurs. Then I swore allegiance to Sir Braxton and have been with him ever since.”
She cocked her head. “Why did you not swear allegiance to a big house or to the king? Why do you serve Sir Braxton as a soldier of fortune?”
He smiled faintly. “Because I must make my own fortune, my lady. My brother will inherit my father’s lands and title upon his death. What I am to inherit comes from my mother’s side and it is not a tremendous amount. I must therefore make my own way. Sir Braxton has provided me with that opportunity.”
“Oh.” She nodded in understanding, having run out of questions for the moment. But she did think of one more. “Then why did you agree to marry me? I don’t have anything of value to offer you. Shouldn’t you have married for money?”
Dallas held an even expression; he didn’t want to tell her the truth, that Braxton had very nearly forced him into the marriage with promise of a very large dowry, Erith Castle and the Kentmere title. He didn’t think that would be a very good way to start off their marriage, though it was the truth. Judging from her youth and immaturity, he didn’t think she would take it very well.
“I think that you do,” he said ambiguously. “You come from a fine family and I think this will be an agreeable marriage for us both.”
He shifted on the bedroll and she leapt to her feet, her eyes wide with fright. Dallas had no idea what had startled her until he realized he had inadvertently moved closer to her.
“Sorry,” he moved back to his original position. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“You did not,” she lied, but looking in his eyes, she realized that he was very aware of her fright. “ ’Tis just that I…”
He patted the bedroll beside him. “Come, lady wife. You must get some sleep. We have an early day ahead of us.”
She stood there, watching him remove his boots. Her face began to flush as the moment she had been dreading was fast approaching. She felt embarrassed, terrified, and curious all at the same time. But Dallas lay back on his bedroll, quite primly, and folded his hands across his chest.
He looked up at her.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Do you require something?”
She stood there and twisted her hands. “Nothing is wrong,” she lied for the second time, very timidly kneeling down on the bedroll. Though he was at least an arm’s length away from her, he might as well have been lying on top of her for all of the dread she was feeling. But she managed to lie down, fully clothed, and pulled part of a blanket on top of her. Dallas suddenly sat up and flipped the rest of the blanket on top of her, covering her feet. Brooke yelped with fright, preparing to leap up again, but Dallas put his hands on her and shoved her back down.
“You’ll never get any sleep if you keep jumping up every time I move,” his voice was low. When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off. “Listen to me and be done with this foolishness. I have no intention of claiming my husbandly rights tonight, so you can rest your mind. Now, will you go to sleep?”
She gazed up at him, the blanket pulled up around her neck. “You… you do not want to…?”
He shook his head. “If I did, I would have to take it by force and that is not the manner in which I wish to start out this marriage.”
She was calming with amazing speed. “But… but it is your right. My mother said I should be obedient and do what you tell me.”
He almost laughed. “And do you plan to listen to her?”
She nodded emphatically but when he lifted an eyebrow at her, her enthusiasm waned. “I will listen to you but I would like for you to listen to me, too.”
“Very well,” he propped himself up on an elbow, gazing down into her sweet face. “What would you like to say?”
She blinked; what did she want to say? “I… I should like to say that Sir Braxton and my mother tell me you are a fine man and that I am thankful that you are a fine man and do you at least want to kiss me?”
It all came out as one rapid-fire sentence. He couldn’t help it; he burst into laughter. Brooke sat up, frowning.
“Why are you laughing at me?” she demanded.
His blue eyes twinkled. “Because I find you humorous,” his laughter faded. “And very pretty.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh.”
She looked uncertain again and lay back down. Dallas watched her for a moment as she pulled the blanket up to her neck again. Then he leaned over her, very close to her face. He was surprised she didn’t bolt again.
“Yes, I would at least like to kiss my wife on the eve of our wedding,” his voice was low and deep. “May I have your permission?”
Brooke’s heart was thumping wildly against her ribs as she gazed up into his strong face. She was positive he could hear it. Maybe having him close wasn’t such a horrible idea.
“Aye,” she managed to stammer.
Dallas lowered his lips to hers, slowly as not to startle her. When their mouths touched, it was a magical moment. She was soft and warm and sweet. He kissed her gently, his lips gently suckling hers. He kissed her longer than he had intended simply because she was so delicious. He pulled away before he lost his control, his deep blue eyes lingering on her.
“Good night, Lady Aston.”
Brooke’s head was swimming. She was stunned, overwhelmed.
“Good night.”
Dallas blew out the light. Brooke lay there for an indeterminate amount of time, listening to the sounds of the night outside the tent, feeling strangely warm and safe. She’d never felt anything like it. Suddenly, Dallas’ hand was on her arm, a gentle yet inherently protective gesture. He had a big hand, strong and warm. She liked it.
Brooke fell asleep with her fingers touching his.
*
“Gray,” Braxton’s voice was a soft growl. “Come lay down, love. Come away from the door.”
But Gray couldn’t. She was standing in the tent flap of the larger tent, her eyes on the small tent in the distance. Her amber eyes were full of unshed tears when she finally managed to pull herself away.
“She’s so young,” she said as she made her way over to the pallet that Braxton had fashioned for them. It was about as far away from Geoff as they could get without actually leaving the tent. “I am afraid that she will.…”
“How old were you when you married Garber?”
She eyed him. “Fourteen years old.”
“And your daughter is fifteen years old. She is no longer a child.”
“But she is still very young.”
Braxton reached out and grabbed her when she came close enough. He pulled her onto his lap as he sat on the pallet and his big arms went around her.
“You worry overly,” he told her, nuzzling her shoulder. “Dallas will not be unkind. Besides, she is his wife now. You must not interfere.”
She gazed at him, the blue-green eyes that were now the center of her world. She smiled weakly, wrapping her arms around his neck and rubbing her nose against his.
“I have every right to interfere,” she told him lightly. “I am his wife’s mother, after all. And you are his liege.”
He groaned. “God, you are not going to be meddlesome, are you?”
She laughed softly. “Perhaps on occasion.”
He grinned and kissed her. She tasted so good that he kissed her again. The spark that ignited so readily between them burst into flame and his mouth claimed her firmly, his tongue probing the tender places of her mouth.
“Dallas isn’t the only man with a new wife,” he murmured, his mouth still on hers. “I have one, too.”
His hand was on her breast again, the powerful warmth firm against her body. She could feel his heat through her bodice.
“Is that so?” she whispered as his mouth moved across her jaw. “And what do you intend to do with her?”
Braxton’s response was to latch on to her neck, half-biting, half-suckling. It was enough to drive her mad, a soft moan escaping her lips. They fell back on the pallet, his arms around her, his mouth on her neck.
Acutely aware of Geoff’s presence, Braxton pulled the blanket up over them both just in case the man should awaken. At least he wouldn’t see much. Braxton’s mouth returned to her lips and he kissed her with ferocious intensity, each suckle or stroke of the tongue giving way to stronger passion. His big hands pulled at the top of her shift, pulling down the surcoat and fabric until the rise of her breasts was evident. Beyond that, he had to unfasten the back of it. In a flash, he rolled onto his back and Gray ended up straddled on top of him.
He stopped kissing her long enough for their eyes to meet. With a glance at Geoff, Gray reached behind her and unfastened the back of the surcoat. She pulled it off with Braxton’s assistance, baring her breasts slowly and modestly. When her firm, round globes were revealed in the weak light, Braxton reached up to touch them ever so gently. He was reverent and adoring. Then he pulled her down to him, his mouth seeking a rosy nipple.
Gray gasped when he suckled her, gently at first, and then with more force. Painful jolts of excitement ran throughout her body and she had to make a conscious effort not to make any noise. But her ragged breathing told Braxton how much she liked it, the hands in his hair encouraging him on. She held him to her breasts as he nursed between them, his tongue lapping at her soft flesh.
Gray removed his padded shirt, leaving his broad chest bare. The moment was not lost on either of them; Braxton’s mouth moved back to her lips and their naked flesh touched for the first time, her chest to his. It was a wildly erotic moment, full of magic. But they knew, instinctively, the best was yet to come.
Somehow, she managed to remove herself from both the shift and surcoat and Braxton’s breeches were off and laying somewhere next to them. Completely nude, the touch of their heated bodied against each other was dizzying. Gray was lost in a haze of desire, feeling Braxton’s hands all over her, his mouth in tender places. When he rolled her over onto her back and began to kiss her belly, she put a hand in her mouth to keep from screaming. It was the most amazing thing she had ever experienced.
Braxton moved lower still, his mo
uth now on the mound of dark curls. Gray’s legs instinctively parted for him and he settled his big body in between them, his mouth loving her most private core. Both hands went into Gray’s mouth as she literally bit off the screams of passion bubbling up her throat. His tongue was wicked, his mouth hot, and she had never before experienced anything so intimate or powerful. Every lap of the tongue and she was ready to scream.
But she was quickly reaching her climax; Braxton could feel her body beginning to twitch. Lifting himself up, he gazed into her eyes, his fingers on her lips. He was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t even speak. All he wanted to do was look and touch and feel. Gray gazed back at him, trusting, passionate, as he put his massive manhood at her threshold. She could feel it lingering there, hot and pushing against her. She wanted him so badly that her limbs ached. With the prelude of a deep kiss, Braxton drove deep into her slick folds.
Gray’s knees came up, her body arching into his thrust. Braxton was the one who groaned this time, biting his lip to keep quiet. She was tight and hot and he withdrew, thrusting hard once again and seating himself fully. Gray’s pelvis rocked up against him and he lost his control then, feeling the animal instinct to mate with this woman. He thrusts were measured, deep, pelvis against pelvis as they matched each other move for move. Sweat began to glisten. Braxton lifted himself up on his arms just so he could watch her magnificent body in the weak light. It was an awesome sight.
His thrusts grew deep, harder, as he felt his release approach. He fell back on top of her, gathering her against him, his face buried in the crook of her neck. He could hear someone whispering sweet words to her and he realized it was him. He was telling her of his desire for her, since the moment they met. She was weeping with joy.
My wife. He whispered the words, thrusting deliberately with each syllable. My wife. He thrust hard again, feeling his climax come. My wife. He said it through gritted teeth, feeling Gray’s body tighten in response, a volcanic climax throbbing through her slick walls. But she never uttered a sound; when he opened his eyes, her hands were in her mouth. She had bitten down so hard that she had left big red welts, evidence of the staggering sensations he had provoked within her.