My Lady's Pleasure (7 page)

He slammed into her now. So big, so beautiful, so wild. On each forward thrust, he ground against her bud. Still primed from her earlier climax, it coursed to life again. She wrapped her legs around Ulric, reaching for more contact and finding it.

Now, together, they neared the pinnacle in a rush. He called her name as his body made the last urgent thrusts inside her. His climax triggered hers. She joined him in the madness, her sex grasping at his over and over. They clung to each other for an eternity of bliss, her queynt clutching at his cock while he released his semen inside her. So powerful. For long moments, she couldn’t breathe as the moment claimed her.

When it finally ended, she sagged, breathless, against the bed. He fell limp on top of her, a ponderous weight and a welcome one. He moaned into her ear. “Ah, my Lady Josalyn.”

His voice sounded full of longing, as if this Josalyn were someone he cherished but could never have. How odd for a man who took everything he wanted, by force if necessary.

She reached out blindly, stroking him wherever her fingers landed. His cheek, his shoulder. She ought to hate him. He’d forced her into a marriage she hadn’t wanted, and then he’d allowed a stranger into her bed. He’d drugged her brain and her body into not just accepting depravity but into welcoming it.

But when he sighed and rolled off her, she let him pull her with him, and she burrowed her nose into the soft hairs on his chest.

My Lady’s Pleasure: Chapter Four

In the garden Josalyn found the minstrel playing a recorder. He breathed out a few notes and then stopped as if memorizing his work as he went along. He didn’t look up as she stood there, but he smiled.

“How fare you this morning, my lady?” he said.

“You should tell me. You seem to know more about my body than I do.”

He glanced up, and mischief glistened in his dark eyes. “I learned something about your body this morning, and I thank you for the knowledge.”

“The two of you drugged me.”

“Technically, your husband did, although I supplied the potions.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want here?”

“Your favor.” He placed his hand over his heart. “I wish only to sit at your feet and worship your beauty.”

“We’ve gone rather farther than that.”

“Very well. I only want your happiness.”

“Why should you care about me?” she said.

“’Tis my quest, my lady.” Though he sat, he bent low in a bow, sweeping his arm to the side. “My purpose in life, to make sure every woman has the romance she deserves.”

“Romance? What a useless illusion.”

“You wound me. Come and sit. Let me change your mind.”

She joined him on the bench. Odd how that they could sit together so innocently when mere hours before, she’d awakened to the feel of his fingers on her most sensitive place. Even now, her sex clenched, remembering the feel of his hardness inside it.

“Every woman should be worshipped as the treasure she is. Her lover should hang on her words, pining away for a secret, sweet message from his lady,” Trey said. “He should praise her beauty and chastity in song. I'd like to do that for you, Lady Josalyn."

”You’re mad," she said. "Even if you're fool enough to think me beautiful, you know from direct experience I'm not chaste."

”You're married now. You gave your innocence to your husband."

”I slept with two men on my wedding night."

He took her hand and pressed his lips to the back. "Necessity only. You were innocent and fearful. Your husband's a warrior and not attuned to the dreams of young women."

Dreams. She'd never dared to hope that her dreams would come true. If her father had lived, he'd have married her off for his advantage, mayhap to a man his own age. When he'd died, his burdens had fallen on her. The Viking might have given her the freedom to enter a religious order, but instead, he'd taken her for his own advantage.

Trey put aside the recorder and picked up his lyre. “I’ve only started this. I hope you approve.”

He struck a cord and then sang.

“My lady sweet, scorn not, this lad who loves you true,

“I dream at night of your fair skin and of your eyes so blue

“But, stay, oh stay!

“By saints above,

“Stay, oh stay!

“And take…”

“I haven’t quite finished it,” he said.

“’My love’ are the words you want,” she said. “And, my eyes are green.”

“’My love,’ exactly.” He took her chin and turned her face to his. “I’ll have to work on the eye color.”

She jerked her head back. “The two of you make my head spin. He orders me into his bed, a bed that used to be mine. You spin nonsense and call it romance.”

“Love is never nonsense.”

“You don’t love me, and neither does the man I married,” she said.

“Not true,” he answered. “A warrior loves in a straightforward manner. He approaches it the way he approaches battle–strategy planned and executed. He hasn’t time for frills and airs.”

“An assault on my heart?”

“More like a siege, Lady Josalyn,” Trey said. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

If the minstrel was right, she could expect more and more invasions from his body while the Viking tried to wear her down. She’d taken enough pleasure from his maneuvers both the night before and then again this morning. He’d had the aid of potions both times. Would she feel the same when she had to take that cock without Trey’s magic?

“On the other hand, I can serve to adore you in a more courtly manner,” Trey said. “Either chastely from afar or much more intimately.”

“How can you claim innocent love after what we did this morning?”

He smiled. “Say you were still under the power of the ointment. I took advantage. I’ll have to perform some penance to win your trust and favor.”

“This is all ridiculous,” she said. “I’m not some delicate flower of a woman closed away in a tower room.”

“I’m glad.” He bent his head toward hers and kissed her for a short moment. No attempt at something more, just a soft tangling of lips, and yet it was laced with a potent magic that set her mind to wandering into a hazy landscape of desire.

After a bit, he pulled back, and the look in his eyes said he’d traveled the same path as she had. “I’m glad you chose a more intimate love for the two of us.”

“My husband will never allow you to have me.”

“Allow it?” He chuckled. “He’ll watch it.”

The erotic images his kiss had brought to life coalesced into clearer mind-pictures. Her body entwined with Trey’s, hands and mouths travelling freely. Trey entering her while her husband looked on. Ulric stroking his own cock until it grew crimson with lust and then shot his seed in great spurts.

“I see you’re intrigued by the possibilities,” Trey said.

“Can you read my mind?”

“I know what’s in my own, lady, and I would be proud to do that for the two of you.”

“The two of us?” She studied his face but found nothing but his usual handsome features. Still, something hid behind those dark eyes. “Have you nothing to gain from my seduction?”

“I have a great deal at stake here,” he said. “And you and your husband will gain success for me.”

“Are you a minstrel or an oracle?”

He laughed again. “Call me what you want, but grant me leave to savor the treasures of you body.”

“Very well,” she said. She’d been destined to agree to his request. The two men had created a hunger in her, and she’d need both of them to satisfy her. She’d ask for forgiveness later. For now, she’d indulge her senses with both of them.

She rose. “Finish your love song. I have other things to do.”

***

The mews welcomed Josalyn with dim light and the scent of straw covering the floor. But then, the presence of her hunting birds always calmed her. They’d endured capture, having their eyes sewn shut for the first part of their captivity, and then training and confinement. Yet, each retained its fierce spirit and beauty.

She put on the leather gloves and coaxed her favorite gyrfalcon onto her arm. It studied her calmly and allowed her to stroke its chest feathers with the other hand. She pursed her lips and cooed to it, more for her benefit than the bird’s.

The door opened behind her and light spilled into the dark enclosure. She set her falcon back onto its perch and turned. Although partially blinded, she couldn’t mistake the form in the doorway. The Viking–her husband–with another bird on his arm. When her vision recovered, she made it out to be a peregrine, the largest, most majestic she’d ever seen.

“A present,” he said.

“For me?”

“For my new bride.”

“One captive as a gift to another?”

“Must you question everything I do?” He approached, filling the room with his presence.

“Forgive me if I don’t play the part of the obedient wife,” she said. “I’d never thought to be a wife at all.”

“But you are one. Mine. Now, here.” He held his arm with the falcon out to her. “Take it.”

“I will, for the bird’s sake.” She extended her own arm, and he eased the falcon onto her glove. Such a stunning beast. Finely plumed and fierce in the predatory glare to its eye. It spread its wings to make its presence known and then settled back as if to say it already ruled this roost.

“I’m told you favor falconry, lady,” Ulric said. “This specimen cost me dearly.”

“So you buy things, Viking?” she said. “I thought you only took them.”

He learned toward her. “Gifts are sweeter when they’re freely given, mouse.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Why do you call me Viking?” he countered. “I’m your lord and husband. I’d have you call me that.”

“Very well, my lord Viking.” She walked to a free perch and set the falcon onto it.

The man came up behind her with footsteps so soft she almost didn’t hear them. She could feel him, though. The heat of his body washed over her. He still smelled like the forest after a rain. Odd for a barbarian’s scent to be always so clean. It tugged at the memory of her drugged fantasy from the night before.

“Does a mouse like to be stroked behind the ear as a dog does?” he said.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“An easy task to find out.” His finger traced her ear and then dipped behind to stroke the flesh there. She’d never thought much about that part of her body, but it suddenly became tender enough to sense the passage of his fingertip over each inch of skin. She held herself perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe.

“Just so,” he whispered from behind her. Close, so close. He gathered up her hair and draped it over one shoulder. “You respond to gentling. I should have known.”

“No one likes to be forced. Or drugged.”

“I have no potions now, and yet you want me.”

“I don’t,” she said, although the breathless quality of her voice said the opposite. “I’ll do my duty, no more.”

“That’s not what the flush of your skin tells me.”

“You can’t see my color in this dim light.”

“But I can feel you.” His fingers traveled to her neck, to where her spine met her skull. “You’re warm, my lady. I know how to quench your fever.”

She jerked around and stepped back. “What are you trying to prove?”

“There’s a link between us. Invisible but real. We forged it that first moment we laid eyes on each other.”

“When you looked up at me from the bailey,” she said.

“I never drop my guard in battle. Never. In those seconds, nothing existed but you and me and the connection between us.”

She’d felt it, too. She would not confess that to him, but she couldn’t deny it to herself. He’d fascinated her, even as she’d feared him. He should repulse her–an untamed male with all the usual base urges. Now free from Trey’s potions, she ought to recoil from him. But the invisible tether between them held strong, and when he took a step toward her, she didn’t move backward.

“Ah, my lady,” he said. “My brave, little mouse.”

I’m not a mouse.
The words wouldn’t pass her lips, even when he inched closer.

“You’ll stand and stare down the lion, won’t you, Lady Mouse?” he said.

She’d thought him a lion before, a huge, tawny beast who could eat her alive if he wanted. But the cat in him made him toy with her, instead, as he got closer and closer until she could see a stray shard of sunlight in his hair.

“What are you going to do?” Curse the tremble in her voice.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His big hand went to the side of her face, and he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “But I am going to convince you of something.”

“So we’ll debate then,” she said. “Like two learned priests dissecting some obscure bit of scripture.”

“I won’t need words for our discussion.” His hand slid along her jaw to her chin, and he used his thumb to pull it upwards so that she could look nowhere but into his face. “Nor will our subject matter be theological, although it will be divine.”

She could continue sparring words with him, pretending ignorance. He’d noticed the heat rising within her, though. This close he’d have to hear the harshness of her breathing as she worked to get air into her lungs. His own uneven breath spilled over her cheeks, and she could imagine that his heart beat at the same frantic pace as hers.

“God created men and women to fit naturally together,” he said. “Whether the Norse gods or yours, they created your queynt for my cock, my sword for your sheath.”

“To produce children only,” she said.

He took her elbows in his hands and pulled her against him. “Oh, we’ll do that, my lady. I want sons.”

When he wrapped his arms around her, she should have resisted, but in truth, she’d grown too weak to fight him. No, not too weak. Too much in need of him.

“And a daughter to cherish as every woman deserves,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. It sent a shock through her, and when he followed with his tongue, a cry of pleasure escaped her.

“Such a sweet sound.” His voice had taken a low, husky tone. “Let me cherish you now.”

She managed to get her hands on his chest and pushed back to get some air. Useless. “That isn’t cherishing, it’s—”

“Come now, dear wife.”

“Ravishment.”

“Name it as you will,” he said. “You want it as much as I do.”

Impossible, but true. Her body had come to life in a way she’d never felt until the night before. Then, she’d blamed it on the potion in the wine and the ointment he’d massaged into her sex. Now, all that desire had returned from the mere nearness of him, a few touches, the flick of his tongue into her ear. The fury hadn't whipped into the intensity of their first coupling, but it would, and she had no power to stop it.

He must have taken her silence as consent, because without a word, he started to strip her of her clothing. He started with the leather gloves, which fell wherever they wished. Powerless against her own desire, she let him remove layer after layer of silk and then linen until the cool air in the mews washed over her.

“Someone might come in,” she said.

“Then they’ll go out again.” He pulled her into his arms, and her breasts pressed into his chest. Even through his tunic, the nipples met hard muscles and stiffened in response.

“I’m naked,” she cried.

“I’ll be naked, too, soon,” he answered. “We’re married, madam. No scandal here.”

“Ulric.”

“Shh.” He kissed her then. Softly at first, as though testing his opponent in preparation for the real assault. Whatever he’d planned, it only served to make her crave more. Shameless in her need, she lifted her face and claimed his lips. They held such tenderness, soft and full and pliant on her own. She’d fallen so deeply under the trance of his eyes that she’d forgotten the pure sensuality of his mouth. She made up for her ignorance now by taking more and more of him until she could scarcely catch a breath and she had to lean into him for support.