Lord of War: Black Angel (20 page)

Using his knees, he wedged Ellowyn’s legs apart and settled in between them.  As he continued to suckle her breasts, a hand drifted down her torso, feeling her flinch, before settling at the thatch of dark curls between her legs.  Ellowyn stiffened with uncertainty as he stroked her, coaxing forth her juices, before inserting a finger in to her body. 

Ellowyn gasped at the sensual invasion, instinctively bringing her knees up, and it was more than Brandt could take.  Removing the finger, his manhood pushed into her, sliding half of his full, hard length on the first try.   Beneath him, Ellowyn gasped and squirmed with the discomfort, the newness of the sensation, and Brandt withdrew only to come back firmer and harder the second time, driving himself to the hilt in one swift stroke.

Ellowyn cried out softly at the surprise and pain of it, her nails digging into his arms as he began his measured thrusts, his hips undulating against her pelvis, commencing with the sensual rhythm of mating.   Legs wide apart as the massive form of Brandt de Russe settled between them, Ellowyn bit her hand to keep from crying out as he thrust into her again and again. The first several thrusts were filled with stinging pain, but the more the man moved and ground his hips against hers, the more another sensation began to take hold.

It was like a spark that struggled to grow into a blaze, but when it finally did, Ellowyn stopped biting her hand and began to ride the sensations.  Brandt was a master at building a fire in her lions, something she had never before experienced.  He would thrust into her but then he would also remove his manhood and rub it against her sensitive core, creating sparks and magic before he would thrust into her again.  

He did it again and again until eventually she began to feel the build of something that sent her entire body into a spasm as it radiated out from her loins like lightning bolts of pleasure.  When Brandt felt Ellowyn’s climax begin, he thrust into her, again and again, until he achieved his own release.  It was an explosion of passion, one of such power that he bit his tongue as he peaked.  Underneath him, he could hear Ellowyn gasping as her tremors died down. 

Full of warmth and passion and contentment, Brandt gently suckled her neck, toying with a tender nipple as he continued to softly thrust into her over-worked body.  It was enough to send Ellowyn over the edge again as she experienced her second release, bringing her to delirious and confused tears.  Her body was reacting in ways she never imagined possible and she had no idea how to process it.  The only thing that came to mind was tears.   She wept as Brandt continued to kiss her tenderly.

“What is wrong, sweetheart?” he murmured against her flesh. “Did I hurt you? Should I stop?”

Ellowyn sniffled, shaking her head. “No,” she whispered. “You did not hurt me.”

“Then why do you weep?”

She shrugged, the only answer she could give him, and closed her eyes.  Brandt watched her face for a moment, concerned with her emotional state.  He thought perhaps she was lying and that perhaps he had done something wrong.  He didn’t know why she would cry otherwise. 

Carefully, he lifted himself off of her and lay down beside her, his big arm across her belly as he continued to watch her face, now in profile.   He didn’t want to upset her; he only wanted to make her happy. He’d never wanted something so much in his life.  Eventually, her tears calmed and she fell asleep, a soft and deep slumber, but Brandt remained awake, watching her, pondering their new relationship and the course of their future. 

Truth be told, their association had started it out on a rather violent note, but he wasn’t sorry. He had Ellowyn and that was all he cared about.  But he was a man who believed in controlling his destiny, his future, and the same thing applied to Ellowyn.  He was determined to control her happiness as well.

He was gone before she awoke before sunrise.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was morning.

Ellowyn knew this because she could hear animals stirring in the yard below her chamber window.  It was still dark as she sat up in the empty bed, momentarily disoriented until memories from the previous night came rushing back on her. 

Clutching the coverlet to her naked chest, she recalled Brandt and his scorching touch, his lips and body that seemed to do miraculous things to her. She was very embarrassed about how she had reacted to him, unable to understand her body’s responses. Mentally, she was still very virginal and naïve even if bodily she was not. To think of her reaction made her cheeks flame, even in the cool room.

Inching over, she pulled back a corner of the oiled cloth to see a heavy fog blanketing the land and a stable yard below.  Smells of animals and urine wafted up, assaulting her nose until she closed the oiled cloth.  Men were shouting out in the yard, bellowing for mounts, and Ellowyn snuggled back under the warm coverlet, eyes wide open and staring at the wall.  Her thoughts began to move to the previous day.

So much had happened.  Her sleepy mind was singling out thoughts and fixating on them. She thought of her mother, of her father, and how they had tried so hard to protect and shelter her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she thought of her parents, undoubtedly distraught over her disappearance. Of course they knew she had gone with Brandt; there was no other alternative.  She knew her mother would be weeping and sorrowful, and her father would be both grief-stricken and irate. Discord had invaded their happy little world and had taken their daughter away from them.

Ellowyn wiped at the tears on her temples as she thought of Brandt, the man now her husband.  She thought perhaps she had been terribly foolish to run off and marry him, but she did not regret it. She only wished the circumstances could have been different.  Yesterday, all she had considered was her own wants.  She wanted to marry Brandt and would stop at nothing to achieve those wants.  Today, she was regretting her haste at least to the extent it had hurt her family.  But she knew that, given the choice again, she would have made the same decision.

The door to the chamber quietly opened and she sat bolt-upright, startled.  Brandt stood in the doorway, his expression somewhat startled as well.

“Did I wake you?” he asked. “Forgive me. I was only bringing food and firewood.”

With that, he sharply motioned to the servants behind him, who scurried into the room bearing steaming trays and cups, and wood for the fire.  Ellowyn pulled the coverlet up to her neck, watching the chaos going on, before pulling the coverlet over her entire head and falling back onto the bed. 

She remained there, a lump on the bed, as the servants stoked the fire and set out a rather plentiful morning meal.  All the while, Brandt stood in the doorway, monitoring the situation.  When the servants were finished, he snapped his fingers at them and they fled.  But then he waved his big arm at another servant who was hovering in the hall with a pile of fabric in her arms.  The woman dumped the massive pile into his arms and ran off.

Brandt entered the chamber and shut the door, bolting it.  He eyed Ellowyn’s lump on the bed as he deposited the bundle of fabric in his arms on the bottom of the mattress. The lump stirred.  He poked it and it stirred again.  It was difficult to keep the grin off his face.

“I wonder if my wife will come out of her hiding places if she knows that a bath has been ordered for her,” he pondered somewhat obviously. “In fact, I have brought many wonderful gifts for her to inspect.”

The covers came off in a flash and Ellowyn’s messy blond head greeted him. His grin broadened.

“I see I have lured you out of your cave,” he said.  Then, he pointed at the pile on the bed. “I raided a merchant’s shop early this morning and brought you these. You said you had nothing more to wear. I have remedied that.”

Ellowyn peered at the heap on the bed with interest. “You
raided
the shop?” she clarified.

He shrugged, watching her as she crawled across the bed, keeping the coverlet around her nude body to protect her modesty. She began to rifle through the items with one hand while keeping the coverlet up with the other.

“A figure of speech,” he said. “The man was preparing to open his shop for the day and I purchased these items for you.  There are four surcoats, two shifts, various belts and scarves and hose, and a sack that contains a variety of soaps and oils and combs. You said you had nothing and I wanted to ensure that you had something until you could purchase items more suited to your taste.”

Ellowyn looked at him, surprised and pleased. “You did this for me?”

He looked at her as if puzzled by the response. “Of course,” he said. “You are my wife. It is my duty to provide for you.”

Her gaze lingered on him, hearing his words,
you are my wife
. She felt such giddy joy at the reminder, chasing off the damp thoughts from just moments before.  Aye, she’d run off to marry him, leaving her family to start a new life with a man she had quickly come to adore.  She missed her family very much. But she realized it could not dampen the joy she felt at becoming Brandt’s wife.  Gazing up at him, she was very glad to be with him, no matter what the circumstances.

“I would thank you for your thoughtfulness, then,” she said. “You are very generous, my lord.”

He gave her a half-grin. “Not under usual circumstances, but you seem to bring it out in me,” he said, his gaze moving over her appreciatively as his manner softened. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, a smile coming over her face. “Very well, thank you,” she said. “Did you?”

He nodded, his dark eyes twinkling. “Surprising well considering my new wife thrashes about in bed. Twice I was smacked in the face by flailing arms.”

Ellowyn’s mouth popped open in outrage. “I do
not
thrash!”

He laughed, bending over to kiss her on the forehead. “Aye, you do, but I find it quite charming,” he said. “In fact, I find everything about you quite charming. You are a true and rare treasure, my lady. I feel like the most fortunate man alive.”

He insulted her and soothed her at the same time, leaving Ellowyn with a furrowed brow and a smile on her face. “Compliments and slander well played, Lord Husband,” she said. When he snorted and shifted on his big legs, she noted that he was dressed in a full complement of armor. “I would assume that I have little time to dress?”

He nodded. “That is a fair statement.”

“Then I will need something to pack these garments in.”

“My men are searching out such a trunk as we speak,” he said, “and I would appreciate it if we could be on the road within the hour. We have much traveling to do before we reach Guildford.”

She was aware of that. As she looked at him, something else occurred to her. “Is my father chasing us?”

His humor faded. “My scouts indicate he has amassed his army,” he replied. “He will not be far behind us so the sooner we depart, the better.”

Ellowyn thought seriously on that. “Perhaps we should send him a missive and tell him we have married,” she said. “Even if he did catch us and, for some reason, wrest me from you, the fact remains that I am your wife. My father cannot dissolve our marriage. Perhaps if we tell him that, he will give up trying to reclaim me.  There is no point if we are married.”

Brandt lifted his eyebrows. “If your father has any brains, then he knows I have married you already and he will come after us regardless.  We are speaking of honor, Wynny – I defied your father and slandered his honor by taking you.  He wants you back. He will try to kill me to achieve this.”

She frowned. “I will not allow it,” she said firmly. “Moreover, he cannot kill you. Frenchmen have been trying to do it for years and have not succeeded. What makes you think a crippled Englishman can?”

Brandt chuckled, shaking his head.  “An angry crippled father is worth a thousand whole-bodied Frenchmen,” he said. “Do not underestimate him.”

He was half-joking but Ellowyn was still serious. “So what do we do? Retreat to Guildford and hope he gives up at some point? Perhaps he will come to Guildford and lay siege.”

Brandt nodded. “It is a distinct possibility,” he replied. “But my castle is well fortified. He will not succeed if he tries to bring me down.”

“Do we just sit and wait him out?”

“Nay,” Brandt said, rather firmly. “I will go about my business seeking fresh men and supplies for the Prince of Wales, and eventually return to France.”

Her spirit dampened. “And leave me behind at Guildford with my father trying to beat down the walls?”

He sobered.  Then he put his hand beneath her chin, tipping her head up to receive a sweet kiss to the mouth.

“We are not going to play out that scenario at this moment,” he said softly but firmly. “You will get dressed and I will return for you within the hour.  Agreed?”

She made a face but nodded. “Agreed.”

He smiled, kissing her again. “I will station a soldier outside in case you need something.”

She watched him head to the door. “Where are you going?”

He put his hand on the latch, his eyes studying her. “I have many tasks that require my attention,” he replied. “But I will not go far, I swear it.”

He winked at her before quitting the room and quietly shutting the door.  Ellowyn sat there a moment, pondering his massive and handsome presence, before being interrupted by a soft knock on the door.  Two serving women admitted themselves, carrying a big copper tub between them. 

Lined with linen, the tub was dented and very used, but serviceable.  Ellowyn remained on the bed, covered up to her ears, as men entered bearing buckets of hot water and proceeded to fill up the tub.  She could also see a pair of Brandt’s soldiers in the hall, watching everyone who entered and left the room. Already, they were protecting the duchess, Brandt de Russe’s lady wife.  The thought made her grin.

A serving woman remained behind to help her bathe.  Once the water was filled about half way in the tub, the serving woman shut the door and locked it.  Ellowyn climbed out of bed and rummaged around in the booty Brandt had brought her until she came across a sack made from dried grass soaked in oil to both strengthen and soften the strands. It was woven tightly and tied with another piece of long grass.