Chapter 9 #2
“Brusque?” She surprised him by letting out a giggle.
“You and I might have a different understanding of the word, my lord. I know many a girl from my village who would be jealous of me for having been treated so patiently on my first time with a man. From what I’ve heard, men are not always as restrained as they should be on those occasions.
After all, as their first time is never painful, they have no reason to fear it or be cautious. ”
No. For them it was all pleasure.
“Be that as it may, what happened that night was a sad parody of what lovemaking should be.”
He should have pleasured her before taking her. What an insensitive bastard he had been! Even when he had thought she was Lady Malpas he had wondered if he was not being too inconsiderate. Only, to his shame, he had allowed his dislike of her to cloud his judgment.
“You mean that it should have been more like what happened on the second night?” Katherine whispered.
His whole body caught fire at the memory of their explosive joining. It was clear from the wonder in her voice that she, too, remembered that night with awe.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely. “That was a lot better.”
There was a silence. Then a tentative question.
“You knew it was me that night, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I knew.”
She nodded and touched the place on her neck where he had bitten her, causing his groin to tighten further. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you…bite me?”
Why did you make love to me so exquisitely instead of taking your anger out on me?
The question she hadn’t dared ask was implied.
“I was not absolutely positive whether you were Lady Malpas or someone else,” he admitted. “And I wanted to…”
“To brand me so you could identify me later on,” she supplied when he faltered. “That is why you removed my cloak to check whether there was a mark on my skin the following day in the courtyard.”
“Yes.” Could he be made to feel more wretched? “I ask for your forgiveness. I hope I did not hurt you.”
“No. I did not even feel it.” She reddened when it dawned on her why she had not registered the bite.
She had been too lost in her release to notice what he was doing to her neck.
Perhaps being nibbled on had even increased her pleasure.
It had certainly increased his to suckle at her while he pumped his seed into her.
“It was only when my friend Mel pointed the mark out to me the next morning that I realized what you had done.”
“Good.” Siaspar was relieved to hear he had not hurt her. “So you bought your family’s salvation with your innocence that night. This is terrible. I knew Lady Malpas was not someone I would ever get on with, but this is shocking. I gather you have not told your father what happened?”
“No. How could I?”
No, of course not. The man would die a thousand deaths if he knew what his daughter had endured to save them.
“Worry not. Now that I know what happens every time I go to Lady Malpas’ bed, I will not go anywhere near her.” He gave a bitter smile and glanced at his wrist where the wound had started to heal. “You will not have to endure my touch anymore.”
Endure. He saw Katherine wince at the word.
“You need not fear I was hurt or even inconvenienced by your lovemaking,” she said hurriedly. “As I said, you showed me unexpected kindness, even the first time, despite who you believed me to be. As to the second time, I… It was…”
He tilted his head when she stopped in confusion. She had liked what he had done to her, he realized. More than liked it.
In the blink of an eye, Siaspar became hard as rock. And he agreed with what Katherine had not been able to say out loud. That second time had been special. He remembered how her tight core had encircled him and her spasms of pleasure had squeezed every last drop of seed out of him.
“If we are being honest, I will tell you that I agree with you about the second time,” he purred, fighting the urge to draw her closer. “It was indeed special.”
“Thank you.”
They remained silent a long time.
“Now,” Siaspar said, determined to get back in control. “Would you like me to read out the exact contents of the letter to you?”
Katherine was touched by this unexpected offer. She would never have dared ask but it would indeed please her to hear all the details her father had judged would be of interest to her. Siaspar had given her the gist of it and answered her most pressing question but she craved more news.
“Yes, if it would please you.”
And so it happened that she heard all about her beloved family in Siaspar’s lilting Welsh accent and deep voice. Though they had made love twice already, this felt like the most intimate thing that had ever happened between them.
“Thank you. I am so relieved.”
“I can imagine.” He nodded at the letter. “Would you like to answer and congratulate your mother on the birth of your little brother?”
“Yes…” She hesitated.
He gave her a smile. A tender smile, she thought. He had understood that she could not write and oddly, he managed not to make her feel inferior for it.
“Then come. I have ink and parchment in the solar. I shall be your personal scribe. At no extra charge,” he added with a wink. “Make the most of it.”
The glint dancing in his eyes wrenched a smile out of Katherine. How was it that he could contrive to make her do what a scullion should never dare do without making her feel embarrassed?
“I would be grateful, my lord, if you are sure you don’t—”
“I am.” Another smile. “Come.”
She followed him to the small room above the great hall.
Katherine had only ever been there once, the night she had been asked to replace Lady Malpas in bed.
It had been dark then and despair had crushed her at the thought of what she had to accomplish.
Today her chest was light and the room was drenched in sunlight, allowing her to appreciate its perfect proportions and tasteful decoration.
Everything, from the sheep skins to the wooden stools, was of the highest quality and had been chosen for beauty as well as comfort.
Siaspar sat down at his table and set about sharpening a quill with a small blade.
Fascinated, she watched his every gesture, which betrayed his ease with the process.
Then she saw how he was handling the knife and remembered him saying he was left-handed.
The wrist that had been cut was the left one.
“Are you sure you will be able to write? Your wrist is not too painful?”
“You are not asking me to use my sword, only my quill. It should be fine.” He flexed his wrist to prove that he was not in pain, then gave a smile, as if he thought she was only looking for excuses to put off the moment—which, of course, she was.
The exercise was not as easy as she had imagined and she felt intimidated beyond measure.
This powerful man was taking some of his precious time to write to a poor blacksmith back in England. It seemed incredible.
Finally, he dipped the quill in the pot of ink and looked up at her. “Katherine, I await your pleasure.”
Pleasure.
The word made her insides flutter. She ruthlessly ignored the unwanted sensation and instead started to dictate a few sentences.
When she saw the beautiful script flowering under Siaspar’s quill, she knew that when her father received the letter, he would assume she had found a scribe at a fair, like he had done.
Never would he imagine that the master of the castle himself had written the missive.