Chapter Sixteen #2
He pushed himself off the door jamb. Reaching out, he put a big hand on her arm, gently. “They are all watching him very closely,” he said. “Cassius will not leave his side, and my brother is a knight of astounding talent. Trust me when I say that Atlas will be well protected.”
She smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I will not worry any longer.”
“Aye, you will.”
“You’re correct. I will.”
They shared a gentle laugh together, but the air between them was electric. There was so much that Markus wanted to say to her, but he wasn’t sure how to. He looked into her chamber, over her head, as if searching for something.
“Where is Aleanor?” he asked.
“In her chamber on the floor below,” Amabella said. “Though I will say that when the army left this morning, she watched with me from the windows in my solar. I watched my son ride away from the walls and she watched Cassius.”
Markus chuckled. “I am afraid she is going to have to give up her dreams of Cass,” he said. “He has no interest in a wife right now.”
“She is still too young. But she will not be in a few years.”
“Then, in a few years, if Cass has not yet married, you should approach my father about it.”
Amabella chuckled. “I will if she ever gets over her abject terror of men in general,” she said. “Hopefully, it is something she will outgrow with age.”
“Time will tell.”
The conversation died, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
Markus simply stood there, a faint smile on his lips while Amabella looked up at him, waiting for him to say something.
What happened yesterday was hanging over them like a cloud, obvious, but neither of them was willing to point it out.
The more the moments dragged on, the more weighty the cloud became.
“You mentioned that Aleanor will have to give up her dreams of Cass,” she finally said. “Tell me, Markus, must I also give up my dreams of you?”
His gaze lingered on her for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “Nay,” he murmured. “I am yours, Ama. If you want me.”
Amabella’s heart swelled with joy. “More than anything in the world,” she whispered. “My age does not bother you?”
“I told you that you are ageless to me.”
“But I am more than likely past childbearing years.”
“I hope to discover that you are wrong.”
Her breath caught in her throat, hardly believing what she was hearing.
Indeed, it was like a dream. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure everything that happened yesterday wasn’t a dream when she woke up this morning.
It had all seemed so surreal. But looking into Markus’ eyes, she could see that it was no dream.
It was very, very real.
“Oh… Markus,” she breathed. “I do not know what to say.”
He took a step into the chamber, standing so close to her that he could feel the heat from her body.
It was arousing, titillating, so much so that his palms began to sweat.
His heart was thumping against his ribs.
Everything about the woman seemed to stir every corner of him until he could hardly think of anything else.
“Tell me that you’ll love me the rest of your life,” he whispered. “Because I will love you for the rest of mine.”
She nodded, unable to articulate the joy in her heart, and she threw her arms around his neck just as he pulled her into a crushing embrace. His mouth descended on hers with powerful passion and in that brief and magnificent moment, he claimed her.
She was his.
But Amabella was quite willing. She wanted to be claimed, to be dominated. Her arms tightened around his neck and she was aware of being picked up and carried towards her bed. Markus had enough presence of mind to kick the door shut and throw the bolt.
As he had done yesterday in her private solar, his lips ravaged her, his tongue gentle, firm but experienced.
His strength was too much for Amabella to match so she surrendered to him easily, responding to his fierce kisses.
When his mouth left her lips and he nibbled hungrily down her neck, it was all she could do to catch her breath.
The man sucked every last bit of air out of her.
Markus didn’t stop with fiery kisses. He wanted more.
Something about her heated flesh in his arms turned him into a madman.
He pulled the top of her shift out of the way to reveal a delicate white shoulder and Amabella could hear him growl as his mouth suckled her flesh, feeling the heat from his lips like a fire brand.
Markus pulled harder on the surcoat she was wearing and ended up tearing it.
The coat came apart in his hands and he threw it to the floor.
She was clad now in only her shift and he slowed his frenzied pace, taking a moment to feel her flesh underneath the thin material.
He rubbed her breasts, her belly, her hips.
It was slow, gentle, and erotic. He gazed into her eyes as his hands cupped those lush buttocks, pulling her against his arousal. It was clear what he wanted.
She wanted it, too.
Markus was in full protection, but it began to come off in a steady rhythm.
Amabella wasn’t very proficient at helping him, but she tried.
He was doing more work than she was, his mouth rarely leaving hers as he worked, and when he was down to his heavy breeches, he paused long enough to rip off his tunic and throw her onto the bed.
He was on her in an instant.
Mouths locked in a passionate embrace, Markus lay her back on the neatly made bed, one hand behind her head and the other moving down her slender torso.
Her breasts were full and luscious in his hand and he was suddenly angry at the shift that was still between them.
He pulled it off, indelicately, leaving her completely nude.
He gazed at her a moment in the weak light of the chamber, his breath catching in his throat.
He’d never seen anything so beautiful.
“God, you’re magnificent,” he muttered.
Amabella gazed up at him, completely comfortable in her nudity. She lifted a leg, rubbing his thigh with her foot as he stood over her, his gorgeous nude form drawing her hungry eyes. But something caught her focus, a mark on his enormous bicep.
“That mark on your arm,” she said softly. “What is that?”
Markus glanced at the de Wolfe standard on his arm. “This is the mark of the grandsons of William de Wolfe,” he said huskily. “We all receive this stigmata when we come of age. It is a birthright that we wear with pride.”
She lifted her hand to touch it, but unable to reach him, she simple fondled his fingers. “It is unique and powerful,” she whispered. “Like you, my beautiful lad. Don’t make me wait for you any longer. Come to me.”
Her words inflamed him. Quickly, his breeches came off and he smothered her with his massive form.
Instinct took hold. Markus kissed her so passionately that Amabella couldn’t breathe with the force of his lust. His big hands moved the length of her body, gentle yet powerful.
When he closed over a bare breast, she encouraged him.
When his hot mouth finally descended on a tender nipple, she held his head fast against her.
Her body was quivering with excitement as his lips moved over every inch of her sweet, round breasts.
When he wedged his big body between her legs, she welcomed him. Her legs parted easily, inviting him into intimate places. Markus accepted the invitation and plunged into her, feeling her body arch against him as the first waves of pleasure rolled through her.
Gathering her against him, he began his measured thrusts into her sweet body, overwhelmed by the smell and feel of her.
She was slick and hot and tight. Never in his life had he experienced anything so arousing, nor had he ever expected to, but the woman in his arms was just this side of heaven.
He savored every thrust, every withdrawal, feeling her body draw him in deeper and deeper.
He was trapped.
Markus’ mouth moved to hers again, kissing her deeply.
Amabella’s hands were on his buttocks, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks in his flesh.
In the throes of her passion, she drew blood, causing Markus to spill himself sooner than he had hoped.
The pleasure-pain had been too much for him to take and he spent himself with the greatest of ecstasy.
Even after he savored his release, he continued to kiss her, unable to let her go.
He couldn’t stop himself from making love to her once more before both of them fell into an exhausted sleep, content in each other’s arms.
When next Markus realized, alarms were going up all over the fortress.
It was morning and the army from Trastamara had ridden out a couple of hours earlier.
It was a bright day, with the sun shining and the birds singing, and would have been a pleasant day had there not been a hint of tension laying over the castle.
With the army gone to a skirmish, the inhabitants of Trastamara were understandably a little edgy.
But not Alfie. He was down in the kitchen yard with his horse guard, drilling them, forcing them to march one way and then the other.
He was preparing them to guard the postern gate and he wanted them to be ready.
When he felt they were ready, or at least all moving in the right direction, he marched them over to the bolted gate so they could assume their posts.
It was cold in the passage underneath the wall and some of the horse guard weren’t properly dressed against it.
Manley’s lips were turning blue as he shivered, but Alfie was unsympathetic.
He demanded they form a line in front of the gate and stay there.
The guard managed to maintain their position for a while until boredom overtook them.
They were starting to beg for water, or bread, when Alfie caught sight of something on the other side of the gate.
He pushed Manley and Bartram out of the way as he peered at the movement.
“There are men out there,” he finally said, astounded.
The entire horse guard turned around, startled.
Trastamara sat on flat ground with a slight slope that led down towards the orchards and the River Tweed, but there was a clear field of vision fifty feet all the way around the property.
Beyond that were heavy trees and it was in those trees that Alfie saw the movement.
Suddenly, men in long tunics bearing short swords and ropes were skulking towards the walls. Some of them even had crude ladders between them.
Alfie’s eyes widened.
“Go get the branding irons,” he hissed to his guard.
Aldwin, Manley, and Bartram ran to get them while the rest of the guard backed away from the gate fearfully. But Alfie stood there, watching with some fascination, as men rushed up to the gate. Faces he didn’t recognize peered through the iron grate at him.
“Laddie,” one of the men said. “Will ye let us in? We need protection.”
Alfie frowned. “From what?” he asked. “You have swords. You can protect yourselves.”
There were several men crowding up against the grate, making Alfie nervous enough that he backed away. Someone stuck an arm out, grabbing for him, and he backed away further.
“Go away!” he shouted. “Go away or I’ll tell Sir Knight!”
“Help us, laddie,” the man said again. “Will ye not help protect us?”
Alfie shook his head. “You have swords,” he said. “If you needed to be protected, you would not have swords. Who are you? Why are you here?”
More hands were reaching out, trying to grab at him, but by this time, Manley and Aldwin had returned with red-hot fire brands. Alfie took one from Manley and wielded it menacingly at the men on the other side of the grate.
“Go away!” he said again. “Go away or I’ll fight you!”
The men at the grate were no longer so pleasant.
“Open the gate, ye little whelp,” one man said, taking a swipe at Alfie. “Open it now!”
His hand was reaching out and, frightened, Alfie lashed out with the fire brand, jabbing the man in the hand with it.
It seared into his flesh and he screamed, which terrified the entire horse guard.
The children screamed, the man screamed, and Alfie was spurred into action.
He began jabbing anything that moved with his fire brand, making contact on several occasions as the men on the other side of the grate pulled back, fearful of being burned.
They also tried to grab at it to take it away from him.
But Alfie could see there was a serious problem. He knew these men shouldn’t be here and he knew, instinctively, that they were bad. He barked at his horse guard, telling them to get more fire pokers, while he sent one of the little girls running for his friend, Sir Knight.
His greatest hero had to know there was trouble at the postern gate. Little did Alfie know that, at the moment, there was trouble all around Trastamara.
The attack had begun.
The alarms began to sound.