BindingPassion (10 page)

Mary found him that way a few minutes later. “My lord, are
you well?” she asked him.

He heard her concern and lifted his head. “Well enough.”

She moved around behind him, put her hands on either side of
his neck, and rubbed gently. “Your muscles are all bunched up in knots back
here,” she said. “What did you with Master John and Master Warin?”

“They got a solid strapping from Master Forlin, then I
offered them the opportunity to take training in arms.”

“Train in arms?” she asked. “They’re serfs.”

“Aye, but we have too few men-at-arms. A few more trained
for battle would serve us well, and those two have need of a better outlet for
their will to fight. I think they’ll turn into very good soldiers.”

Mary’s hands halted for a moment. “‘Tis a good idea, my
lord.”

He reached up and laid his palm over one of her hands,
holding it against the side of his neck where it felt both deliciously cool and
warm at the same time. “Mary, after dinner this even, would you come to me?
Dismiss your maid early and come to my solar?”

She stopped, standing quite still, then said, “Aye. I’ll do
that.”

“Wear that necklace from your mother at dinner for me as
well?” he asked. “I would see it against your skin, making your eyes sparkle
just as brightly.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Mary looked wonderful wearing her mother’s necklace, even
though her gown was worn and faded. She glowed with life and joy. As beautiful
as the jewel was, it was her face that kept drawing his attention. The green of
her eyes seemed brighter and clearer than usual, and she smiled in a way he’d
seen only a few times before.

Dinner took too long for Philip’s taste, although he was
sure the food was quite good. He just barely remembered that the wine was
smooth and fruity. He drank enough of it to make him somewhat light-headed, but
the real kick for him came whenever her hand or arm touched his.

Once the meal was over, they retired quickly to their
quarters. A few minutes later, Mary knocked at the door and slipped inside. She
walked straight into his arms, and he wrapped them around her, holding her
tight against his body. He was honored that she showed so much trust in him,
considering how difficult she’d found it to accept his touch at all when first
they’d met.

He leaned down to kiss her. Her lips were soft, sweet, and
hesitant at first under the touch of his mouth. Then she relaxed slightly,
opening to him. The recesses of her mouth were hot and slick, tasting slightly
of the wine they’d drunk with dinner. She shivered delicately as his tongue
swept across her teeth and pushed forward. He nipped lightly at her full bottom
lip and felt as much as heard her sigh.

He kissed his way down along the side of her throat,
occasionally nipping or licking at the tender flesh. Mary melted against him.
Need settled, hot and heavy, in his loins. She trembled in his arms, but not
with fear, as his lips traveled down onto her shoulder, nudging aside the edge
of her gown to explore the delicate hollow there, before continuing on toward
her breasts.

He spread the gown out, then kissed one of the pointed
nipples, sucking on it through the linen shift. The fabric was rough against
his tongue and lips but he could feel the hard contour of her flesh beneath it.
She gasped deep in her throat as he probed the dampened fabric for the treasure
beneath it. Philip lifted his face so he could see her reaction. With its
graceful, clean lines tightened by pleasurable need and desire, she was
exquisite, as bright and rare as the jewel in the necklace.

He could scarce credit the turn of fortune that had brought
him both the manor and its lady, and he’d thanked the Lord on his knees more
than once for the gift. He would never fail to treasure each and care for them
to the best of his ability.

He turned her so that her back was to him, pressed against
his chest, and reached around under her arms to cradle a breast in each palm.
She rested her head back against his shoulder, leaving one lovely pink ear and
the delicate side of her throat within easy reach of his hungry lips. As he
nuzzled her earlobe, he brushed his thumbs over her breasts, again and again,
until she squirmed in his arms. She sucked in a series of sharp breaths and
moaned his name in between.

He loosed the tapes on her gown and brushed it off her
shoulders, then reached down inside her shift to caress the flesh beneath.
Excitement raced through his blood and flared in his loins.

He reached down and unhooked the chain of her girdle,
letting it drop to the floor.

“Mary.”

She shivered as his breath brushed over her ear when he
spoke.

“I’d like to see your body. All of it.”

She nodded. He tugged an end of the ribbon of her shift and
released it. A slight push and the fabric slithered off her shoulders and down
her body to land in a puddle of white around her. He turned her again and let
his gaze run down the luscious curves of her breasts, hips, and legs. She wore
only the necklace, pale stockings with garters and her calfskin indoor
slippers. The jewel glowed against her skin, which was just as radiant.

“Heaven have mercy,” he said reverently. “You’re beautiful,
exquisite.” He reached out and put a hand on her side, just below her arm and
ran it down along the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. Her skin felt
smooth and cool beneath his grateful palms. He felt her go tense again.

“Nay, Mary,” he said. “You needn’t fear. I promise again
I’ll do naught you don’t want. I’d like to touch you and learn your body, all
of its curves and recesses. But that’s all we’ll do this even. Just my fingers.
And if you don’t like what I do, tell me, and I’ll stop. You have my oath as a
knight on that.”

The wide green eyes met his gaze. He touched the satin-soft
skin of her cheek with a gentle finger and leaned down to kiss her again. Her
mouth strained towards his this time. She was so responsive. Her body wanted
what he could give more than she knew. He had only to get her past her fear so
she could relax and accept it.

He picked her up in his arms, carried her to the bed, and
laid her on it. She didn’t protest but watched him with wary eyes struggling to
trust. He loved her for that struggle. She had such courage to let him do this
after all she’d suffered at Benwyck’s hands. He was determined to erase the
memory of Benwyck completely from her thoughts and replace it with more
pleasant thoughts of the delights he would bring her.

He removed her slippers and stockings, watching her shiver
again when his fingers ran down her leg in the process.

“Your body is beautiful,” he told her, “made to give
pleasure to the man God designates for you, and to yourself. Mary, I believe
I’m that man, and I can’t imagine what I’ve done to earn such a boon.” He
rested one hand on her breast and another at her waist. “You’ve already learned
some of the pleasure your body is capable of, but there’s more, a great deal
more. The Lord God, in His infinite wisdom, endowed men and women with the
capacity to love and be loved and to share with each other a joy so sublime it
must have been meant as a foretaste of heaven.”

He lingered over her breasts and nipples for some time,
until she was gasping and squirming with pleasure. Then he slowly moved his
hands down across her stomach, giving her ample time to object or ask him to
halt. She didn’t. Her gaze fixed on his face as though she found comfort or
encouragement there.

He moved his hands down to the triangle where her legs met
and nudged them gently apart. She drew in a long breath, but didn’t say
anything. He stroked the soft, soft skin of her thighs for a little while,
running his palms and the tips of his fingers up the inside, but halting before
he arrived at the apex.

Hidden in the silky brown curls were the petals of flesh
that protected the most secret recesses of her quim. Moving slowly so as not to
startle her, he brushed a finger upward and then ran it over the lips that
closed her slit. She drew a sharp breath and her body tensed. He left his
finger in place while he looked to her face again. She opened her eyes and met
his gaze. Then she smiled.

He returned it and leaned over to kiss her. When he released
her lips, he moved so he could reach more easily and get a better view of the
womanly flesh he would fondle. He stroked over the outer lips with gentle
careful brushes.

“I would open you now,” he said to her, caressing the lovely
soft flesh of her inner thighs. “I vow to be careful of you.”

Showing her trust of him, she moved her legs farther apart.

“Thank you, my love,” he said.

She moved, startled, apparently at his words.

“Know you not that you are my love?” he asked. “Though I’ve
known you but a short time, you’ve come to be the light of my life and the
crown jewel of this manor I’ve been granted. My heart is in your keeping, has
been since the day I learned you
were
a lady, and one of remarkable
courage as well as remarkable beauty.”

He touched the petals of flesh again. “Every fold, every
curve, every line of your body is beautiful to my eyes.” Using the fingers of
both hands, he gently pulled apart the outer folds of skin to reveal the
treasures beneath. He touched reverently, carefully at the delicate tissues
within. She jumped and cried out.

Philip looked at her face in alarm, but after a moment he
realized it was shock and pleasure that had wrung the cry from her rather than
pain. “Most remarkably sensitive, these places on our bodies,” he remarked. “A
gift from the Lord. But they must be treated properly. Used brutally and with
no thought for one’s partner, as you’ve been used, they can cause tremendous
pain. But when treated properly, with reverence and care and love, they can
bring pleasure beyond imagining.”

She sucked in a sharp breath as he ran his finger very
carefully along the jutting pieces of flesh, down to the opening to her womb.
She was still dry there. He’d been taught that a lady’s opening should be moist
with her own juices to be ready for a man’s entry. He had no intention of doing
more than touching her, introducing her to the potential for pleasure in those
small folds. Even though she should come to beg for it, as was their bargain,
he wouldn’t take her then. She needed time to adjust, and he planned to take it
slowly. He had thought to introduce his finger into the opening to begin
preparing her for the stretching by his cock, but even that could wait.

Still, it raised doubts in his mind. Was he doing this
properly? She took pleasure in his touches, clearly, but was there more he
should be doing to bring her to the dewy state of readiness necessary for her
fulfillment?

As gently as he could, he worked the soft, delicate tissues,
listening to her breathing and watching the reactions of her body to gauge what
gave her most pleasure. Though his cock ached with the hot, heavy need that
engorged it, he strove to ignore it and concentrate only on what she wanted. He
found the small pearl of flesh that responded most strongly to his touches and
he worked it carefully. Though she squealed, moaned, and writhed under his
care, her entrance remained tight and dry each time he fingered it.

He wanted to try his tongue on her, but he’d promised he’d
use fingers only. There would be time for it later.

After a while, she reached down and stopped his hand. “My
lord,” she said, her breath coming in small bursts. “Enough for tonight.
Wonderful though it is, I’m unused to this and ‘tis all I can bear.”

He moved until he lay beside her and pulled her against his
body, holding her close while he struggled to contain the raging need that
tried to demand he do more. He would handle his own release later. After a
while he let her go and rose from the bed, then helped her up and back into her
clothes.

He peered out the door into the corridor to be sure no one
moved there, before he allowed her to make the short trip back to her own
solar. He felt a little silly sneaking around his own manor in such a way, but
there was also something amusing and even appealing about it.

Once she left, he lay back and took his aching cock in his
hand. It throbbed beneath his touch, begging to be milked. He felt like a raw
boy again, resorting to bringing about his own satisfaction in this way, but he
couldn’t continue to show her the pleasures of the body without occasionally
satiating the fiery need that rode him.

With visions of Mary’s glorious body in mind, he stroked
himself and gasped aloud as the warmth streaked through him. He pumped, faster
and faster, until a gout of hot juice exploded from him, convulsing his body
and relieving the pressure in his cock.

It failed to relieve the doubts that had begun to assail
him, however. Would she ever truly be able to accept him into her? Could he
bring her to that ultimate level of pleasure that would bind them together
inextricably?

Despite Philip’s reassurances that the Earl and Countess of
Highwaith wouldn’t stand on formality or be too critical of the hospitality,
Mary still worried about having everything as well prepared for them as
possible. If for no other reason than that they were Philip’s friends, she
wanted Alderwood to make him proud.

The staff worked hard, scrubbing furniture, sweeping floors,
washing and airing linens, preparing what food could be made ahead, laying in
necessary provisions, and making room in the stables and outbuildings for the
visiting horses and equipage.

Mary dealt with the panic that arose from the discovery some
of the linen was no longer usable, dispatching someone to the town to purchase
additional fabric. Even standing for fittings of the new gowns her seamstresses
were preparing offered no respite. People brought her a litany of problems and
questions.

Twice more, during those evenings, she went to Philip’s
quarters and allowed him to teach her about her body and the responses he could
draw. She was astonished by the things he could do and the pleasure it would
bring her.

As his fingers found new ways to stroke and tweak the very
private recesses of her body, she felt as though she might explode or come
apart. Never could she have guessed that such wicked-sounding activities could
bring such pleasure.

Yet apparently, there was some additional peak to be
reached. And something was worrying Philip about her, as though he feared she
might not be able to reach whatever ultimate there was.

Everything he did, each new touch he tried, brought her to
new heights of pleasure. Yet, she felt no inclination to beg him for his
penetration. What, she wondered, would bring her to such an extreme of need,
when his marvelous touches had not, as yet?

And someone, it appeared, had tried to kill him. Who could
want to do that? Mary watched constantly for someone using a knife with a
broken tip. She questioned servants about whether anyone had seen such an item.
She learned nothing. None of those serving as personal maids or manservants
admitted to having seen one. She vowed to continue to be looking out for it,
but her efforts were distracted by the increasing pace of preparations for the
Highwaiths’ arrival.

Finally, the day of the arrival of their guests came. Mary
thought everything was as well prepared as possible. That morning, she and
Philip together ran down the list of preparations needed to ensure nothing had
been overlooked. They could think of only one small item, a need for extra
drinking water to be provided for the pregnant countess. That was easily
resolved.

Word came that the party had been spotted in midafternoon.
Mary joined Philip at the main door to welcome the guests. She tried not to let
her worry and nerves show, but he must have seen it, because he took her hand
and squeezed it in reassurance.

Outriders preceded the carriage bearing the earl and
countess, and Mary was impressed by the grandeur of the trappings, including a
glittering crest on the door of the conveyance. A footman stepped down, opened
the door and assisted a young woman to alight. Despite Philip’s description of
his friends, Mary was still surprised by her.

Rosalind, Countess of Highwaith, was about her own age, a
very pretty young woman with brown hair under an attractive wimple and a
pleasant expression. Her middle showed the rounded bulge of pregnancy, very
obvious on her slender frame. When she spotted Philip, her face broke into a
huge smile, and without waiting for her husband to escort her, she ran toward
them.

“Philip!” The Countess threw her arms around his shoulders
and kissed him on the cheek. Philip put a hand lightly on her back to steady
her until she stepped away.

“You’re looking well,” she said. “Clearly being the lord of
this manor suits you well.” The countess then turned her attention to Mary.

Philip anticipated her interest and said, “My lady, this is
Lady Mary Alderwood, the daughter of the late lord of this manor. Lady Mary,
may I introduce to you Lady Rosalind Blaisdell, Countess of Highwaith.”

“Call me Rosalind, please,” the Countess begged, taking both
of Mary’s hands in her own. “I’m having the devil of a time adjusting to this
Countess business.”

“And I’m the afterthought known as her husband,” a deep
voice said from behind her. Jeoffrey Blaisdell, Earl of Highwaith, was Philip’s
height but broader and huskier. Straight, near-shoulder-length blond hair
topped a stern, handsome face, but his expression softened as he approached. He
shook Philip’s hand and clapped him on the back, while Philip did nearly the
same thing in return.

“I trust you’ve found a few musty rooms for us and a crust
or two of bread to spare?” Jeoffrey asked.

“I’ll personally break the mold off your bread and strain
the grit from your cider,” Philip returned. “And with such a lovely companion
in your bed, you’ll not notice any other stray visitors that might bedevil you
there. Of course even the fleas would hesitate to draw the notice of such a
stern disciplinarian as yourself.”

“Nay,” he protested. “‘Tis entirely too difficult to
convince a louse to do your bidding, even for so loud and harsh a one as me.”

“Then enter my home if you dare, and risk your skin to the
wrath of the vermin.”

“Did I not know you so well, Philip, I swear your words
would have me climb back in the carriage and make for the next estate.”

Clearly the two men were close enough to be entirely
comfortable with each other.

Rosalind looked at them, shook her head, rolled her eyes,
and took Mary’s arm. “Let us go in, Lady Mary,” she said. “They can go on like
this for hours.”

“Just Mary, please, if I’m to call you Rosalind,” she said.

“And you are,” the other woman assured her. “We’re going to
be good friends, and you’re going to tell all about your relationship with
Philip. I’m sure Jeoffrey will get from him his feelings, but I’d know about
your feelings for him.”

She smiled and laughed. “But here we’ve yet to even enter
your home and already I’m bursting with impertinent curiosity. Feel free to
ignore me, Mary, until such time as we’re more comfortable. I fear I allowed my
warm feelings for Philip to overrun my common sense. We do care for him a great
deal, my husband and I.”

“He’s spoken of you often,” Mary said. “I know he values
your friendship greatly as well. He’s worked hard to ensure all is in readiness
for your comfort. I hope your stay here will be both pleasant and profitable.”

Rosalind smiled warmly. “Of course it will. I know Philip
well enough to rely on it.”

Mary conducted the guests to the great hall where tea and
pastries awaited. While they ate, the Highwaiths told about their
journey—eventless aside from a rickety bridge the earl insisted be shored up
before he allowed the carriage to cross it—and her pregnancy, which so far was
going smoothly. The babe was expected in mid-spring.

Though she liked Rosalind instantly, Mary wasn’t sure how
she felt about the Earl. He seemed a somewhat stern, almost harsh man, yet his
face softened whenever he looked at his wife, and his love for her radiated
from him. No question that Rosalind adored him in turn. Mary had to smother a
wistful envy as she watched them together. Then she looked over at Philip and
surprised him watching her. What she saw in his expression was not so different
from what was in the Earl’s.

The realization astonished her so much she lost the thread
of the conversation for a while.

When they finished, she walked the couple down to their
quarters so they could rest and refresh themselves before dinner that evening.
Mary left them and went down to the kitchen to be sure all was in order for the
meal.

Dinner was a tremendous success. Mary had been able to get
the minstrels to return, the kitchen did themselves proud with a feast worth of
royalty, and there was much laughter and joyful conversation. They lingered
late into the evening.

The following morning, Mary woke early and went down to the
kitchens again. Arice and Jehane were arguing again, but it didn’t appear
serious enough to warrant her attention. Otherwise all appeared in order, so
she went back up to the great hall.

The Countess sat at a table by herself, nibbling on a
honey-roll. The woman looked up as Mary approached with her plate and invited
her to sit down opposite.

“I hope you slept well last night?” Mary ventured after
wishing her good morn.

“Quite well,” Rosalind responded. “Although these days that
means I only wake up two or three times a night when the pup decides to
practice wrestling. But our quarters were perfectly comfortable.” She saw Mary
looking around and guessed the reason. “Jeoffrey and Philip rode out early this
morning to look at the lands. I suspect they wanted some time for themselves.
They’ve been as close as brothers for most of their lives.”

Mary fought down a small stab of hurt that Philip hadn’t
told her what he planned, nor had he asked her advice for where to go to show
his friend the best of the estate. Who knew it better than she? But perhaps he
hadn’t been able to find her or thought her still abed and wished not to
disturb her.

“Aye,” Mary agreed. “I’ve heard much about your husband from
Philip. He admires him greatly.”

“As do I,” Rosalind agreed. She blushed a little. “But we
both regard Philip quite highly as well. He helped me through a very difficult
time, when I believed it was quite impossible Jeoffrey and I should ever be
able to marry. Philip offered me a solution much more acceptable than any of
the other paths I could contemplate.”

This time the spear of jealousy Mary felt was palpable and
easily identified. Apparently it showed on her face as well for Rosalind said,
“Nay, Mary, ‘twas not like that. Philip did indeed offer to wed me, but purely
to give me a home and security. He did so from friendship. And I love him for
it, as well, but not in the way I love Jeoffrey. More as I would regard a
brother.”

Rosalind continued to watch her. “You do regard Philip in
that way, though, do you not? I do hope it’s true because I’ve seen the way he
looks at you and know that his feelings are strong. And I know of no man more
worthy and deserving of happiness than he.” Rosalind hesitated, studying her
face. “There is something that stands between you, though,” she ventured.

“Aye.” Ordinarily, she wouldn’t share the story with anyone
other than those who already knew, or a few such as Philip who had need to
know, but Mary found herself wanting to tell it to this friendly, open young
woman. “Before Sir Philip arrived, another lord, a Sir Benwyck, was awarded
this manor after Sir William de Railles conquered it and killed my brother and
his men. Sir Benwyck was no such man as Philip, though he wanted the same
things, this manor, the lands, and myself.” Mary’s hands drew up into fists.
“Unlike Philip, Benwyck cared not to
earn
those things. He took what he
wanted by force.”

“Yourself included,” Rosalind guessed, when she didn’t
continue.

“Aye, myself included.”

“But that need not prevent your relationship with Philip.”

“I feared it would preclude a relationship with any man,”
Mary admitted. “I’d been unable to let any man so much as touch me since. Sir
Benwyck used me so brutally, the fear made me nearly blind afterward.”

Rosalind dropped the remains of her roll and wiped her hands
before looking up to meet Mary’s eyes. “I’m so very sorry to hear that. My
relations with my lord have taught me that congress between two who care for
each other can be a most pleasurable thing.”

“I’m beginning to learn,” she admitted. Rosalind turned a
raised eyebrow on her and Mary felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Philip is
teaching me. We’ve a bargain that if he can make me comfortable with the
relations between a man and woman before a year is out, we’ll wed.”

“And you’re making progress,” Rosalind guessed.

“Aye.”

“I’m glad of it,” she said. “You both deserve happiness.”
The Countess stood and Mary rose as well. “May I see more of your manor and
grounds?” she asked.

“Of course.”

As they made their way down the corridor, Rosalind said,
“Did you know that Sir William held me prisoner for a while after he slew my
family, because he wanted me? I suspect he was just days away from trying to
force me in the same way Benwyck forced you. Or he would have left me to rot
forever in his dungeon. But Jeoffrey rescued me.”

“Nay, I knew it not,” Mary answered.

The Countess laughed. “I deceived him into rescuing me, in
truth. He was freeing some prisoners whose families had paid to have them
returned. I promised to pay him as well, though I could do no such thing.”

“And how did he react to that?”

“As you would expect, he was none too pleased. He offered me
a choice. To be cast out on my own without further assistance or to stay and
accept the penalty for my deception and make payment in another fashion.”

“You chose to stay? But how did…? Forgive me if I’m being
rude in asking, Rosalind.”

“Nay,” the lady answered with undimmed cheerfulness. “I
chose to stay. He whipped me in punishment for the deception, then took his
payment in my service. ‘Twas while I was tendering my payment that we two fell
in love. My lord is a stern man, but he’s honorable, fair, loyal, and
courageous as well. He also has a loving heart and a sense of humor, though he
does not often show that part of himself to the world.”

“He is also a very handsome man,” Mary ventured. “Though,
not, I think as handsome as Philip.”

“Ah, I might argue that point with you, but there be no use
in it. Both are handsome. And his looks certainly influenced me in learning to
love him.”

“Aye. Though we’re taught what is inside is more important,
a pleasant exterior is no handicap to a growing love,” Mary agreed. “But ‘tis
odd you say that Jeoffrey began your relationship by whipping you. Philip did
likewise with me.”