Chapter Seventeen #4
Isobeau smiled sadly, her palm still against his cheek.
“I was very fond of him,” she murmured. “Titus was a warm and wonderful man and mayhap in time, I would have loved him. But in hindsight, it wasn’t love that I felt for him.
It was simply a great fondness. I will always be greatly fond of him.
But you… you are a man unto yourself, not to be overshadowed by a brother that everyone loved.
What I feel for you has nothing to do with Titus and everything to do with you, as a man.
My fondness for you grows by leaps and bounds.
I look forward to the day when I can tell you that I love you with all my heart.
I pray that does not repel or alarm you. ”
Atticus kissed her hand once more and then dropped it, cupping her face between his two big palms. He gazed into her eyes, trying to think of something sweet and warm and lovely to say to her but he could only think of one thing to say. It was the truth.
“I cannot remember when I have not loved you,” he said softly. “It came upon me and suddenly I realized that it was true. I tried to tell myself that it was wrong to love my brother’s widow but the truth is that you are my wife. You belong to me and I will love you, and only you, until I die.”
Isobeau was swept away by his words, her heart beating furiously against her ribs and her limbs turned to liquid fire.
She leaned into him and Atticus slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her so forcefully that he drove her teeth into her soft lip.
He tasted her blood and, loving it, suckled her mouth harder.
His arms went around her and he pulled her so tightly against him that he thought to crush her.
But he didn’t care; she was where he wanted her and where she belonged, in his arms, never to stray again.
It was a magical moment.
But they were not alone in it. Standing several feet away, Tertius, Kenton, Alec, Adam, Maxim, and Juston de Royans stood, watching Atticus devour his luscious and shapely wife. Juston turned to Tertius.
“Is that your sister?” he asked.
Tertius nodded, watching the woman being ravaged by her husband. “Indeed it is.”
Juston lifted his blond eyebrows. “If I had known she was such a beauty, I would have pledged for her myself.”
Tertius grunted. “I cannot think of her in those terms,” he said. “She is still the skinny, freckle-faced sister I have always known.”
All five knights shook their heads in utter disagreement but Kenton was the one who spoke. “Nay, she is not,” he said. “A blind man can see what a prize she is. I am glad Atticus finally realized that. I was coming to wonder if he ever would.”
Tertius, his gaze lingering on his sister and her amorous husband, waved a hand at the pair as if to dismiss them and their lusty display, and headed back to the gates where his men were collecting the dead.
Kenton, Maxim, Alec, Adam, and Juston were still clustered in an exhausted group, watching Atticus and Isobeau for a few moments longer before turning away.
They had their own duties to attend to. In truth, they had come to find Atticus to seek out direction on what he wanted them to do as far as cleaning up Wolfe’s Lair, but they could all see that the man was indisposed.
They would have to figure out their tasks without his direction.
“Does Tertius have any more sisters?” Juston asked Adam as they walked away.
Adam snorted. “He does not,” he said. “But Maxim and Alec do. Mayhap they will put in a good word for you. But be advised that I have seen these women and they look just like their ugly brothers, so you may want to reconsider.”
Alec, hearing Adam’s comment, threw a pebble that hit the man in the neck.
Angry, Adam shook his fist threateningly at Alec but his threats went largely ignored.
The knights then dissipated into the deepening evening to help shore up Wolfe’s Lair for the night while Atticus and Isobeau lost themselves in a kiss that would go down in history as possibly one of the best and purest in the true sense of the gesture.
It was everything they ever knew it could be… and more.
After that, Atticus spent the next hour with his wife simply to make up for lost time before reluctantly pulling himself away from her to oversee the post-battle activities of Wolfe’s Lair. At least for the night, there was no talk of battle, of death, or of war.
With Shaun Summerlin and his men on the retreat and Wolfe’s Lair under a veil of peace, Atticus was able to relax somewhat.
For the moment, he was worry-free. For a brief and shining moment, he allowed himself the luxury of life without battle or grief.
For that brief and shining moment, there was only Isobeau.
Even though Atticus slept in his mother’s bed next to his wife that night, he did not engage in his husbandly rights.
He knew she was still healing from her recent miscarriage and he suspected that an act of that sort would be physically difficult for her, so he refrained.
It was the first time in his life that he’d ever thought of someone else over himself.
But he didn’t regret it. In fact, sleeping with her in his arms was quite possibly the best thing he ever did.
Waking up to her soft, gentle singing was just this side of heaven.