Chapter Six #2
Matthew stood up with her. “Come along, then. We shall get you settled and then I will return to see what I can glean from your maid.”
Hand on his, she paused. “You are not going to hurt her, are you?”
He gazed down into her magnificent bronze eyes. “Would you think me capable of such a thing?”
“Nay,” she shook her head, suddenly ashamed. “I did not mean it the way it sounded. It is just… Jezebel has been with me a long time. I know she must be punished, but I….”
She trailed off and he clutched her hand, leading her out of the hall. “Trust me that I will do what is best.”
“I do.”
She was still shaking in spite of the fact that she had calmed somewhat. In her mind, she could still see herself falling from the balcony and the thought rattled her; consequently, the trip up the spiral stairs was slow going.
When they reached her chamber, Matthew led her inside and closed the door softly behind her. The bed drew Alixandrea’s attention and with a fatigued sigh, she fell atop the mattress without so much as removing her shoes. Matthew stood by the door.
“Your exhaustion is understandable,” he said with some compassion. “It seems that all you have known is chaos since setting foot on Wellesbourne land.”
She shifted on the bed so that she was looking at him. “Aye, ’tis been a bit chaotic. First there was the battle the day I arrived.…”
“… and the feast the first night, followed by the wedding that almost never happened…”
“… and now I almost plummet to my death from the gallery banister. Is there anything else that could possibly happen to me?”
He grinned. “Let us hope not.”
She sighed heavily, her nerves finally at rest. Truth be known, Matthew seemed to have a great hand in helping her ease. His presence was comforting and calming.
“Hopefully, whatever bad fortunes that seemed to have befallen me will have run their course by now,” she said. “I am not sure how much more I can take.”
“Nor I,” he said, chuckling softly when she rolled her eyes in agreement. “Shall I leave you now to rest, wife?”
Alixandrea pondered the question. It suddenly occurred to her that they were truly alone, without any threat of interruption or spying. Not even Caroline could protest their being alone, as she had been witness to their marriage.
Her heart suddenly began to race, wondering if he meant what she thought he meant.
She did not know if she was ready for such a thing, especially after the events of the past few minutes.
But the more she thought on what he perhaps might be suggesting, the more the thoughts of her chaotic first days faded.
She wasn’t so exhausted, after all. She could feel her cheeks grow hot with a little fear, and a lot of anticipation.
“Do you want to leave, husband?”
“Nay.”
He did not hesitate as he walked into the room. She sat up on the mattress, gazing up at him as he came to a halt beside the bed.
“Do you know that I sat up all night, watching you on the wall?” she said. “I was afraid something horrible was going to happen to you.”
He lifted a blond eyebrow. “So you would watch it happen?”
“Nay,” she shook her head. “I wanted to stop it. If it was going to come from the men of Whitewell, then I felt it my duty to stop them.”
“And just how did you intend to do that?”
She shrugged. “Short of throwing projectiles out of my window or howling at the moon, I really don’t know. I had hoped that if it came to that, some marvelous idea would come to me.”
“Then I thank God that my life did not depend upon your brilliant defense plan.”
She laughed softly, knowing he was right, knowing it had been foolish of her. But she had no idea how much her gesture, however small, had touched him. He reached down, gently touching her chin, her cheek.
“I know you were awake,” he said in his soft, rich voice. “I watched you all night, too, through that very window. Not much of a way to spend a wedding night.”
She shrugged, lowering her gaze coyly. “I would not know, my lord. I have never had a wedding night.”
“I shall see what I can do about that.”
He sat down on the bed next to her. He was such a large man that the small wood and rope bed frame creaked dangerously. Alixandrea barely had time to look at him before he was descending on her, his lips clamping down over hers and his powerful arms winding around her body.
As it had the first time he kissed her, the heat and fervor of the passion between them overwhelmed her senses and she could do naught but submit to his tender ambush.
He kissed her softly, joyfully, succulently.
She was barely aware when he laid her back on the bed, his mouth still against hers, his arms embracing her tightly.
His hands, as large and calloused as they were, nonetheless possessed the gentlest touch she had ever experienced.
They caressed her back, her arms, moving to her face and neck and stroking her skin tenderly.
His lips moved to her cheeks, her ears, suckling her neck as if it was the most delectable morsel.
The sensations were overpowering and Alixandrea surrendered completely, losing herself in the maelstrom of heat he created.
“I am sorry,” he suddenly pushed himself up onto one elbow, his face looming over her.
“Perhaps this is too much for you. We barely know each other, after all. I am simply a stranger who is now your husband. If you would prefer to leave this intimacy until we come to know one another better, I understand. I do not want to hurt or frighten you, but I swear that I cannot keep my hands off you. Something about you… it causes me to lose control and I am a man unused to such lack of discipline.”
Alixandrea gazed at him; the man was nearly too good to be true, apologizing for his weakness.
Any other man in his right mind would have taken her on the spot, without question or regrets.
She was not so na?ve that she did not know that.
She was older than most brides and had therefore been privy to much talk in that arena.
The servants at Whitewell and Pickering had been quite free with dispensing their knowledge.
“You have not hurt nor frightened me so far,” she said softly. “I am your wife, Matthew. It is your right to claim me.”
“I know what my rights are. I was attempting to consider your feelings.”
“It feels good so far.”
He eyed her, seeing a double meaning in her words. He took it as encouragement. A grin spread across his face and he lowered his head, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth above her own.
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
“Then let us see if we cannot make it feel even better.”
His tongue invaded her mouth. More attuned to it this time, she invited him in, her own tongue playing timidly with his.
He laughed low in his throat and his hand left her shoulder, moving down the swell of her breast. Focused on what his hand was doing, she closed her eyes as his lips suckled her chin and moved along her jaw line.
His fingers were moving between her breasts, drawing a sensual outline around the left one.
She could feel him moving across the rise of her breast, into intimate territory, and she flinched when he found her sensitive nipple.
He smiled against her flesh and his big palm closed in over her ample bosom. It was more than a handful for him.
He caressed her a few times, acquainting himself with the softness of her delicious body.
Alixandrea had never experienced something so electrifying and a groan escaped her lips.
Ignited by her response to his touch, Matthew suddenly pulled her to a seated position and unfastened her surcoat as quickly as his big fingers would allow.
He pulled it up over her head, leaving her in her soft sheath.
Almost simultaneously, he removed his tunic, baring his massive chest.
Dazed, Alixandrea stared at his broad chest, the muscles bulging and his skin a lovely golden-pale color.
She hardly noticed when he unfastened the stays of her corset and the thing popped free.
He could not pull it off of her so he yanked it over her head.
In his haste, her hair caught in the metal stays and they ended up laughing as he unwound her hair from its tangle.
“Sorry, love,” he said as he deftly unwound the mess. “This wasn’t part of my master plan.”
She giggled as the hair came free and he tossed the corset aside. He paused a moment, gazing down at her. He could not help the smile on his face. Though it was normally close to the surface, it seemed perpetual when she was around.
“I have never in my life seen such a sweet face,” he murmured. “Every time I look at you, I can hardly believe that you are real.”
She did not know what to say. His words made her feel warm and wanted, more than she could have imagined and better than she had ever hoped for. The White Lord was hers, and she was his, and both seemed very pleased at the prospect.
Still dressed in her sheath, Matthew lay his wife back down on the mattress, the thin layer of linen the only barrier between their bare skin.
He could feel her taut nipples brushing through the material, rubbing against his chest, and it nearly drove him mad.
He laid his body atop her so that he wasn’t crushing her and also so one hand could have free rein; when his lips latched onto her soft earlobe, his right hand went to work.