Chapter Eleven
Portepool Manor, London
Three weeks later
His body was creating a raging fire within her loins.
Marian could feel Gaspard’s manroot moving in and out, a primal rhythm that she eagerly mimicked.
Her hips began to grind against his, lightning bursting every time their bodies would come together.
The bursts of lightning grew stronger and brighter.
Marian cried out in passion, living for the stroke that finally brought about the roll of thunder and ecstasy rippled through her body.
Gaspard thrust into her a few more times, his strokes so hard that her teeth rattled, before spilling himself deep into her beautiful body.
The roll of thunder eventually faded but did not die completely.
Marian lay beneath her lover, feeling his sweaty body atop her with great satisfaction.
But her body was still so highly aroused that when he stroked her gently one last time, out of the sheer pleasure of being inside her, the thunder clapped again and she experienced the thrill of another climax.
Gaspard felt her tremor bursts and he clutched her buttocks against him, thrusting in and out of her sensually and feeling at least two more releases until they faded away completely.
When the panting died down and the only sound filling the room was the soft crackle of the fire, Gaspard just lay there and stared at her.
Marian’s eyes were closed, her lips softly parted as she dozed in exhausted bliss.
This was a peaceful moment, something that was few and far between for the both of them.
Ever since they arrived in London, it seemed like all they did was rush about. But at this moment… it was still.
Until her eyes flew open.
“Go,” Marian hissed, slapping his bare arse. “Go before my cousin sees you. You know she comes around at the most inopportune times before supper and I do not want her to find you in my bed.”
Gaspard frowned as he propped himself up on one elbow. “She would have to be a fool not to already realize I am in your bed nightly,” he said. “Somehow, I think she knows.”
It was Marian’s turn to frown. “That does not mean I have to be obvious about it,” she said, displeased that he had the audacity to speak his mind. “Go back to your quarters and I will send for you later.”
Gaspard sighed heavily, running a hand over his dark locks before pushing himself up and climbing out of the bed.
He collected his breeches from the end of the bed, turning to look at Marian as she lay there with the coverlet down around her ankles.
Her full, ripe body and gently rounded belly was softly illuminated in the firelight.
He looked back to his breeches as he pulled them on.
“Has she asked about the child yet?” he said. “Surely she knows.”
Marian’s hand immediately moved to her swollen belly. “Of course it is my husband’s child,” she said. “Why should she care?”
“Because the child is mine.”
Marian glared at him. “You will never speak those words again,” she said.
“I have told you that this child, male or female, will be born a de Wolfe, which is a far better family than yours. You should be pleased that your child will have such advantages. Rather than being the offspring of a lowly knight, the child will be part of a great empire. That’s much better than anything you could ever do for it. ”
She’d said those words before, something that stabbed right into the heart of Gaspard’s pride.
Over the past three months, Marian had become more and more condescending with him, treating him no better than a servant at times, but he hung on because of the coinage she gave him when her mood was good.
He tried to keep it good on a daily basis, bedding the woman whenever there was opportunity and catering to her every whim.
As far as her cousin knew, Gaspard was simply another de Wolfe knight who was Lady de Wolfe’s protector, but the rumor mill at Portepool Manor knew the truth.
As in any big house, there was gossip – and much of it – but no one was willing to tell Millicent de Haydon that her young cousin was a married woman carrying on an affair.
But the truth was much more than that.
Now, Marian was pregnant with her lover’s child.
Sadly enough, Gaspard had been pleased with the pregnancy.
He didn’t have any children and he had been delighted with Marian’s news, but this was her fourth illegitimate child, from four different lovers, and she had no intention of letting Gaspard claim the child in any fashion.
It was a de Wolfe and it belonged to her husband and she laughed bitterly at any sentiment from Gaspard about it. So, he suffered in silence.
But the money was good.
Still…
“Marian,” he said, focusing on the ties of his breeches. “I must ask you something.”
She grunted as she pulled the coverlet over her and rolled onto her side. “What is it?”
He finished with his breeches. “Have you thought any further on what we discussed when you were sent away from Ravenscar?”
“What do you mean?”
“About your husband.”
Marian’s eyes opened when she realized what he meant. “About ridding me of him?”
“Aye.”
She fell silent for a moment. “I have,” she said. “And I am not entirely sure what advantage it would be to do that.”
“You could do whatever you want. His wealth would be yours.”
“I already do what I want and his wealth is mine.”
Gaspard looked at her. “Then listen to what I have to say,” he said somewhat pleadingly.
“If he is gone, you will marry me. We shall raise this child as our son and we shall live the life you wish to live. We can travel and drink and feast and do anything you wish to do, only we will do it with each other. I will be at your side, always. Is that not better than being married to a man who is cruel to you?”
Marian rolled away from him. “He is cruel to me,” she said.
“But our marriage forms an alliance between two powerful families, Gaspard. Ronan is an important man in his family and he is an elite knight. You make it sound as if doing away with him will be an easy thing but I can assure you it will not be. The man isn’t going to stand still while you drive your sword through his belly. ”
Gaspard’s reaction was to become frustrated and walk away, but he couldn’t walk away from what Marian could offer him. At least not yet. That bachelor knight at the Middlesbrough tournament had found a gold mine and he wasn’t about to let it go.
Not yet, anyway.
He backed down.
“There are many ways to kill a man and not all of them involve a sword,” he said quietly. Bending over her, he kissed her on the head. “Think about it. I will wait for you to summon me later, ma douce.”
Marian didn’t say anything. She simply lay there, listening to him quit the room and trying to decide if a dead Ronan was attractive to her.
She wasn’t a fool; she knew what Gaspard was after and the fact that she was pregnant with his child complicated things a bit.
She knew the man was a fortune hunter. She’d known that from the start.
If Ronan had one value to her it was the fact that he was her excuse for not marrying the fortune hunters she’d run into during her lifetime.
As long as she had a husband, she couldn’t marry any of them. A fling with no responsibility.
But Gaspard… she was growing rather fond of him.
Perhaps she really would think on it.
With thoughts of Gaspard and Ronan on her mind, she began to drift off to sleep until a series of sharp raps on her door jarred her awake. Clutching the coverlet over her naked body, she sat up.
“Who comes?” she demanded.
“’Tis me,” came the muffled reply. “Millie. May I enter?”
The door wasn’t locked. She hadn’t locked it after Gaspard left. “Enter,” she said.
Millicent de Haydon entered the chamber.
An older woman, handsome and well-groomed, she was the daughter of Marian’s father’s sister.
The woman had married into the House of de Haydon, a very wealthy house, but she had only given birth to a daughter in all her years of marriage.
Millicent had therefore inherited all of the de Haydon wealth and she had never married, although rumor had it that she was in love with her housekeeper, a woman who had been with the family since Millicent was young.
Millicent was a good woman and her housekeeper was an excellent servant and the two enjoyed each other’s company greatly.
Whether or not they were lovers was immaterial.
Marian certainly didn’t care.
“Good eve, Millie,” she said. “What brings you here?”
Millicent had something in her hand as she came to the bed, but she paused and looked her cousin over.
“Are you sleeping in the nude these days?” she asked. “What is wrong? Don’t you feel well?”
Marian pulled the coverlet up to her neck. “I feel well enough,” she said. “I… I was simply weary and came to nap before sup. I pulled my clothes off and was too weary to find a shift.”
Millicent accepted the excuse. She had no reason not to. Coming around the side of the bed, she extended what looked like a vellum envelope.
“This came for you a short time ago,” she said.
Marian had to let go of the coverlet with one hand in order to accept the envelope. She peered at it closely, front and back.
“Who is this from?” she said. “I do not recognize the seal.”
“The only way you will know is if you open it,” Millicent said, moving away from the bed and sitting in a chair near the windows that overlooked the street. “The messenger came from Yorkshire.”
Marian’s eyebrows lifted even as she looked at the seal. “Ronan?” she said. “He is at Ravenscar, in Yorkshire.”
“Is it a de Wolfe seal?”
Marian shook her head. “There is no signet.”