Chapter 10 #3
But the cold vanished when he stroked his hand around her exposed flesh, gently teasing her nipples between his finger and thumb before leaning down to capture one of them in the wet warmth of his mouth.
She cried out with the pleasure and pulled his head closer as he laved his tongue back and forth, never moving away from the sweet prize.
He suckled and nipped at her other breast in turn, stroking his fingers around its fullness and keeping her warm with the heat of his body.
Catherine reveled in the pleasure of his caresses until she could contain herself no longer. From somewhere deep inside her raged an urge to tempt him in the same way as he did her, to feel every inch of him and stroke and fondle him to a fever pitch that matched her own.
She took his face in her hands, guiding his lips to her mouth and kissing him with all the longing and emotion that swelled in her.
Loosening his shirt, she kissed down his neck and pressed her lips to the places she’d bared, even as her fingers stroked down his chest and sides to splay over the strong, warm contours of his ribs.
“Ah, love, you’ll unman me,” Gray breathed in her ear, when she slid her hands down to his hips and around to the front of him. She brushed her palm over his rigid length, reveling in her new-found power as she grasped and massaged him firmly through the thin barrier of his breeches.
As if in sweet retaliation, Gray shifted her skirts and slipped his hand beneath, stroking his fingers up between her legs. She opened to him without thought, her cry mingling with his groan when he found her slick, wet heat.
“Elise,” he whispered, the muscles of his arms and chest corded with need as he stroked her, “God help me, but I want you. All of this time I’ve wanted you, even when I tried not to feel it.”
Catherine’s heart contracted at the sound of her false name on his lips; it filled her with an aching sadness that made her turn her face away, even as her body responded with surging, traitorous rapture to his touch.
But when he slipped his finger into her, she moaned aloud, unable to stop herself from pressing into his hand at the rush of pleasure.
“I’ve dreamed a thousand times of touching you like this,” he murmured, gliding his finger in and out of her in an intoxicating rhythm, “but by God, I swear that none of my imaginings ever came close to the beauty of this truth.”
Catherine gasped and writhed with the intense feeling; she struggled to keep control of herself, not to disappear into the swirling ecstasy that his stroking touch promised.
“Now,” she begged, shifting desperately under him. “Take me now, Gray. I want to be yours, in every way. Please, I can wait no longer.”
“Aye, love. We’ll wait no more,” he said, bracing his hands to lift himself over her. Then he eased himself into her slick opening and rocked slightly, closing his eyes and tipping his head back as he pushed gently into her.
Intense pleasure rippled through her when he sank completely inside.
The smooth, hard heat of him filled her, and, responding to instinct as old as the ages, she lifted her knees to coax him deeper, losing herself in the mindless ecstasy of motion.
He rocked in and out of her, pulling back to the very brink, and then delving inside as deep as he could go.
Catherine wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, her legs locked to his waist as he stroked into her.
The seductive intimacy of their joining shocked her.
Never had she felt such rightness—such sanctity—in this act.
Tears of joy sprang to her eyes as she rose up to meet each of Gray’s thrusts, moaning the sweet music of his name into his shoulder.
The salty taste of his skin was primal on her lips, and she nipped at him, writhing with passion and need beneath him.
Just when she thought it was impossible to feel more, she began to tense with an exquisite tide that started to overwhelm her, a gathering storm of sensation that threatened to tip her over the edge and into mindless bliss.
Her fingers clutched Gray’s back under the assault of this new and wonderful feeling.
With a low cry, she arched up to pull him more deeply inside her.
And then suddenly, her body wasn’t hers to control any longer; she screamed aloud as she climaxed, pulsing around him, coaxing him to rapture along with her. Roaring her name, Gray thrust once more and sheathed himself to the hilt, filling her with his hot, liquid flow…
And delivering her at long last into a paradise of love and completion she’d never dreamed she’d find.
After a few moments, Gray rolled away from his wife.
Reaching to his side, he grabbed his long cape and tucked it around them against the chill.
Then he just lay back and allowed the feeling to seep through him.
Warm and sated. He shielded his eyes with his forearm, willing his breathing to slow.
But no matter how his body rested, his mind continued to churn.
Something was amiss. Something important.
It had shadowed his thoughts while they were making love; now it returned with a vengeance.
His wife wasn’t a virgin.
There’d been no barrier to break. No innocence to shatter.
She’d been smooth and achingly sweet when he took her.
So sweet that even now the thought of what they’d done, of the pleasure she’d given him, caused his groin to tighten again in anticipation.
But hurt lanced through him as well; she’d lied to him.
A lie of omission, by keeping the truth of her lost virginity from him.
Lifting his arm a little, he peered from beneath its shelter to gaze at her, wondering what she was thinking.
How she was feeling. She hadn’t uttered a word since their explosive climax.
She rested next to him in silence, still but for the even rise and fall of her breast. Her eyes were closed, her face inscrutable.
She didn’t look guilty. She wasn’t acting afraid or nervous, or like a woman who was deceiving him. But then how to explain her lack of innocence?
Suspicion began to wind dark tendrils into his heart again, bringing with it memories of all the other times he’d felt this twinge in the past weeks, of all the other disparities he’d ignored because of his deepening feelings and his need for her.
But they glared through his brain now, relentless, taunting.
He’d felt them from the start, from the moment he’d lifted her veil on their wedding day.
There’d been her people’s false description of her and King Henry’s pointed comments about her changed appearance.
And then the portrait. He remembered her strange reaction to it when Eduard presented it as a gift, and again later, when he’d caught her weeping over it. So many inconsistencies…
Elise opened her eyes. “Gray, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you long ago. ’Tis awful, and I pray you can forgive me for keeping it from you.”
Gray lowered his arm slowly, still looking at her.
The tone of her voice had sent a shock up his spine; her expression was deadly serious.
She turned to stare at him, eyes huge in her face, and he couldn’t keep back the renegade thought that those eyes were pleading with him, silently begging him to understand something that meant life or death to her.
Christ. He’d suspected right. She’d been hiding something, and she was about to tell him of it.
Pain and doubt cut through him anew. That she’d lied to him about anything was serious; aye, especially if it had been a deliberate deceit on her or Montford’s part to shame him.
But she was acting as if she feared for her safety now, and that hurt him almost as much as her deception.
She should know him better than that by now.
He began to speak but then stopped, so bothered by her stricken expression that the words lodged in his throat.
She looked as if she was about to cry, or get on her knees and pray, or throw herself at his feet and implore his mercy.
It made his skin crawl the way it did right before a deadly battle. It was damn unsettling.
Both to stem his feeling and to ease her anxiety, he reached out and grazed his thumb across her kiss-swollen lips, heat rising again in a heady swirl at the feel of her, at the warm, lush sight of her.
Her scent lingered on his skin, reminding him of their lovemaking and sending a pleasant twist into his belly.
He tried to push the warmth aside. He needed to stay focused.
Stay clear. “Elise,” he said quietly, “just tell me who it was and why it happened, and we’ll—”
“Gray! Gray, where the hell are you, man?”
The deep voice rang through the clearing, accompanied by a crackling, banging noise as if from a hundred stomping feet. Gray reached for his sword, cursing under his breath, even as he moved to shield Elise from the intruders’ gazes.
Alban and three young knights came crashing into the glen atop their steeds; Alban jolted his stallion to a halt when Gray glared up at him from his position concealing Elise on the ground.
Reining his mount back, Alban shooed the younger knights from the glen, muttering something about taking care of it himself and ordering them to return to the village to await Gray’s arrival there.
Then, red-faced, he dismounted and walked toward his friend.
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you both,” he muttered, “but it could not be helped. You must come back to the village with me, and quickly.”
“What the hell is it?” Gray snapped, tucking his cloak around Elise, who sat up, silent and wide-eyed, as he stood to lace his breeches and slip his shirt over his head.
“’Tis a bloody brawl. A half dozen lads from beyond the valley, newly-knighted, I’d say, from the looks of them, took insult at something young Drake said.
Before anyone could intervene they were at it with our squires and young knights, swords drawn and fists flying.
” Alban leaned down to pick up Gray’s surcoat, which had been thrown in a heap at the far edge of the clearing.
His brows lifted, and he whistled appreciatively, shaking his head as he tossed it back to him.
Gray scowled and pulled it on, indicating that they should move farther away to give Elise some privacy to dress. From the corner of his vision Gray saw her stir from beneath the security of his cloak. Pulling Alban more deeply into the brush, he asked, “How bad is it?”
Alban shrugged. “Bad enough to convene a manorial court. At least five are wounded. One might not live. Many of the sellers had goods destroyed. Tables were knocked over and produce trampled. We’ve got it contained for now, but ’twill need your judgement as Lord of Ravenslock to dispense justice.
” Reaching into his tunic, Alban withdrew a sealed parchment.
“And then there’s this. A message arrived for you from the king. ”
Gray took it and broke the seal, reading it quickly before cursing aloud.
“I’m to depart without delay for a grand assize in Cheltenham.
King Henry wants me there as a representative of the Crown.
” He tucked the parchment into his shirt.
“I’ll go as soon as the problem in the village is cleared.
Elise?” he called over his shoulder. “Come, we must hurry.”
“I’m right here,” she murmured behind him.
He almost jumped with her nearness. Mother Mary, but his wife was quicker at dressing herself than any woman he’d ever known.
He covered his surprise with a command and action.
“We must mount up and return to the village. Fighting’s broken out and I must call a manorial court to deal with the accused. ”
He moved to follow Alban to the horses, but Elise tugged his sleeve, pulling him back. “Wait!” she whispered, sounding almost frantic. “Please, Gray, just a moment more. I must tell you before ’tis too—”
“We’ll have to talk about it later,” he broke in.
“I cannot tarry here or lives may be lost.” Clenching his jaw, he guided her to her mount and helped her up.
He struggled to mask his emotions, hiding them behind a stony expression.
And he seemed to accomplish what he intended, effectively stopping any further conversation.
They mounted up and headed for the village without another word between them.
Scowling as they rode, Gray tried not to think about what his wife was preparing to tell him.
About the man who’d taken her virginity or why she’d kept it from him for all of this time.
He only focused on the path ahead, glad that there was something tangible awaiting him in the village. Something he could handle and solve.
His secretive wife was more than he could deal with right now. For Elise, with her wide blue eyes, her sweet disposition, and her soft body was beginning to get the best of him…
And he’d be damned if he’d allow himself to accept defeat that easily.