Jenna Jaxon - Time Enough to Love 03 (10 page)

The huge dark expanse of the front lawn, now touched by the thin moonlight, had been turned into a hastily dug graveyard. Earth lay piled in haphazard mounds everywhere. Farthest from the manor was an even greater mound, several times the length and breadth of a normal grave. She shuddered, and Geoffrey put a protective arm around her.

“I
am sorry, my love,” he said, holding her head against his side, shielding her from the gruesome sight as he guided her toward the princess’s portable chapel. “There were too many to bury properly. With all the servants gone, there was no one left to dig the graves. I had to resort to a single grave for the rest.” They reached the chapel entrance and opened the door.

In the dim light of the candelabra, the small chapel seemed blessedly
welcoming, its costly tapestries waving in the draught caused by the open door. She breathed in the always comforting scent of incense, gazed about at the splendid appointments—the gold crucifix glinting above the altar, the baptismal font lost in the shadows beyond—and peace stole through her at last. She walked the short distance to the altar, excitement building in her with each step.

Geoffrey closed the door and joined her. He set the candles down and took her hands, engulfing them in his. She could hardly feel them as he rubbed his thumbs idly over their backs, aware of nothing but his eyes. Their blue depths blazed with his love for her.

He crossed himself and tried to begin the vows, but his voice caught in his throat. After some moments of coughing, during which she bit back a smile, he gasped air into his lungs and spoke the words that would bind them together for all eternity.

“I take you to be my wife and I espouse you; and I commit to you the fidelity and loyalty of my body and my possessions; and I will keep you in health and sickness and in any condition it please our Lord that you should have, nor for worse nor for better will I change toward you until the end.” The words, once started, had come out in a rush. His smile, as he finished, encompassed his whole face. Then
he looked at her expectantly.

Suddenly shy, she bent her head to stare at their joined hands and gripped his convulsively.
’Twas meant to be. At long last. She raised her head and determinedly repeated her vows back to him. Even though the ceremony did not seem valid—no priest, no witnesses, no real church—the weight of her words to Geoffrey rang true. And according to the Church, they were truly married, as much so as if they had just solemnized their union before the Pope himself. Except…

“Geoffrey, what about a ring?” She glanced down to see the ring Thomas had given her still glinting on her right hand. Immediately, she plucked it off and transferred it to her left, where it
slid loosely on her finger. Another reason to believe the marriage invalid. Geoffrey had no means to provide her with a ring to complete the ceremony.

To her amazement, however, he withdrew a wide gold band
from the pouch on his belt. It gleamed in the candlelight. He seized her now bare right hand. She looked from the ring to his face twice, shaking her head.

Smiling broadly, he placed the ring on her thumb
. “In the name of the Father…” he moved it to her index finger, “and of the Son…” then settled it on her middle finger, “and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

Where had he come by a ring? Her head spun. Did she dream? Would she wake in her bed, bereft of both Thomas and him?

His eyes sparkled as he finished the rite. “With this ring, I thee wed; this gold and silver I thee give; with my body I thee worship; and with this dowry I thee endow.”

He took her in his arms and bent her head back. “Shall we kiss to seal the vows?” Without waiting for an answer, he pressed his lips to hers, soft,
persistent, possessive.

Happiness poured through her.
The hope she had ever held in her heart had finally come to pass. She encircled his neck and offered him her own kiss, claiming him with a passionate fury that startled her. Their tongues tangled, and she draped her body against his, needing to touch every inch of him. She would never get enough.

Geoffrey
pulled away, panting. “We had best return to the manor, lest we commit sacrilege here in front of the altar.”

She gulped air and nodded. Amusement tinged his words, but he spoke true. She would have ridden him to the floor had he not stopped her.

With a growl that set her blood to throbbing, he grabbed the candelabra and ushered her out of the chapel.

Chapter 11

They ran swiftly back toward the manor house and were about to enter when Alyse stopped on the threshold. The separate building that housed the kitchen beckoned. “Would you like a wedding feast as well, my lord?”

Geoffrey grinned and squeezed her hand. “You have the most wonderful ideas, Lady Longford. Others will swear I married you for your wits rather than your luscious body.”

With a laugh, Alyse turned their steps to the dark kitchen. She quickly stuffed provisions into a basket: bread she had baked the day before, cheese from the larder, a pot of honeyed pears, a slab of salt beef and mustard, and a knife. “Go to the butlery, my love, and fetch some wine or ale that we may drink to our marriage as well.”

He bowed low then swept off in search of the drink. She poked around, looking for other morsels to tempt them in their feast, when Geoffrey returned
, triumphantly bearing two bottles of wine and a pitcher of ale, still dripping from where he had dipped it out of the hogshead by the butlery door.

They left the kitchen and wound their way back to her chamber. Their chamber now. Alyse clutched the basket as the magnitude of what they had done in a few short hours assailed her. She had married Geoffrey, scarce five days after the death of her husband. Anguish warred with
sheer joy. Giddiness spun her head, and her knees buckled.

Geoffrey cursed then slammed the pitcher of ale to the floor and jumped to catch her. He leaned her up against the cool wall, plucking the basket from her lax fingers and stowing the wine bottles atop the victuals.

“What is wrong, love?” His worried gaze took her in, head to toes.

She waved him away and struggle to stand. “
’Tis nothing. I was overcome by the happiness that is now my life.” She straightened and steadied herself. “Your very presence will ever make me swoon, Geoffrey.”

Scooping her up in his arms, he whispered, “Then I see I must carry you across the threshold in
earnest as well as in ceremony.” With that, he bore her into the chamber and placed her on the bed, stifling her objections about the feast.

“Allow your husband to
do his duty and serve you this evening, Lady Longford.” He bowed low before her.

Alyse sighed with contentment. Settling herself into the bed, she waved her hand over the covers. “I would fain be a dutiful wife were I to prevent my new husband from the completion of his most sacred duties.” A woman might burst with so much
pleasure. “You may wait upon me, though you had best make haste.” She stretched in the bed, rolling slightly toward him. “I have more than one appetite to be sated this evening.”

His low growl sent a shiver of
expectation down her body. Geoffrey cast her one hungry look then hastened away to rescue their supper.

Soon they were both ensconced in bed, the feast surrounding them. They took turns feeding each other morsels and drank from the same spot on their cup of wine. Alyse
indulged in the delight of simply being together with him once more.

While nibbling on a bite of cheese, she caught the glint of her new ring in the candlelight. She stared at it anew. How had
he produced it so miraculously?

“It is your ring, Alyse.”

She frowned. “But, Geoffrey, how? How could you know you would need it?”

“I did not know. But I have carried it with me, like your favor
, since June.” He laid his hand to his chest. “I had bought the ring ere I went home to Longford. And I refused to give it to Mary. It was
your
ring, and I would relinquish it only to you, as I have just done.” He lifted her hand and kissed the finger it encircled.

“Did you buy Mary another ring?” She dreaded his answer, both wanting yet not wanting to know.

Geoffrey grinned at her. “Nay. I made my father procure her ring. It was his match, I told him, so he must provide for it.”

As they lay in companionable silence amidst the
remains of the feast, Geoffrey nibbled gently on her hand. He grazed each knuckle, each fingertip then glided across the surface of her palm, his hot breath scorching her flesh the while. His heat warmed her soul as well as her nether parts.

He brushed her hand
across his cheek. As the fingers trailed one by one against his lips, he drew each into his mouth. Her core pulsed every time he sucked, until her need for him grew nigh unbearable

He paused
, his lips over her little finger. “Will you allow your husband to fulfill his heart’s desire, my love?”

“
Oh, aye, my lord.” She smiled and stretched her legs. “An you remember, I would deny you no pleasure.”

He cocked his head then a broad smile spread across his face. “Now I will hold you to that promise, little wife, and bid you command me to love you like a proper husband should.”

Heat shot through her,
’Tis happening at long last. We will truly be man and wife.
“Then it is so ordered, Lord Longford.” Her voice came out a husky purr. “Go to your office at once, sir.”

Geoffrey kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, her chin. He lingered over the little mole beside her mouth. His lips were like liquid silver, molten and
enflaming. He gently raised her up to sit then to stand next to the bed. The blue brocade wedding gown slithered to the floor, leaving her standing before him clad only in a white silk shift that clung to her at breasts and hips. His eyes grew large and dark with a hunger she could not wait to sate.

With a single finger, Geoffrey traced a lazy trail from the nape of her neck down her throat
and over her shoulder. Despite the heat of the apartment, goose flesh rose in its wake. He caught the neck of her chemise, lifted and pulled, and the silky cloth slipped off her arm to uncover her breast, the tip now furled tight and aching.

The
incessant throbbing between her legs drove her to implore him, “Take me now, Geoffrey.”

He chuckled. “You are impatient, madam. I would make
our loving last until the wee hours of the morn.” He lowered his head and touched his tongue to her nipple.

T
he pulse deep in her core grew frantic. She moaned and grabbed his head, pressing his face to her chest. Oh, she needed him inside her now.

The
soft chemise whispered against her skin as it dropped, leaving her naked before her husband. He backed away a pace, the smile flickering over his face approving all he saw. Silently, he spun her in a circle, those dark eyes feasting on every inch of her. Now his and his alone.

When she faced him
once again, he brushed the remains of their wedding feast from the bed, lifted her, and laid her on the soft white sheets. His hungry gaze took her in from head to toe. She shifted her legs to ease the ache below, although her body continued to thrum with need.

Slowly
, Geoffrey drew his forest green tunic over his head, stretching his arms aloft languidly then tossing the garment onto the pile of her clothing. His undershirt swiftly followed, revealing his narrow waist and impossibly broad shoulders. Smooth, pale skin stretched taut over the rippling muscles of his chest. He smiled and stood still, hands on hips, watching her watch him.

S
he could not have dragged her eyes from his magnificent body had her soul been in danger of hellfire. She sighed aloud.

H
e laughed and turned to the table, reaching for the wine. And revealed a thin, white scar that ran crookedly down his left side.

“Geoffrey!”

“Hmm?” He finished filling his cup before turning back to her. “What is it, sweetheart? He sipped, his gaze not leaving her.

“That scar. What happened
, Geoffrey?” It was ages old; still, she could not help but shudder to think what might have happened.

“’Twas but a scratch. A lesson learned and remembered to this day.” He sighed. “You would pause now and hear the story?
Or continue with our nuptial celebration?” He dropped his hands to the waist of his chausses.

The long scar had startled her, but the
promise of their celebration won out. “Nay. The wound is old, so I believe the tale will keep a while longer in the telling.” She patted the mattress. “Come to bed, my lord, that I may soothe your hurts, be they old or new.”

His answering grin sent wa
rmth pouring through her. He untied the laces then peeled his hose over his hips and bent to strip them off his legs. When he straightened, she stared agog at his fully aroused cock.

“Do you take pleasure in your husband’s body, lady?”
His husky tone made her shift on the cool sheets, her need rising once more.

“Aye, my lord, I would take much pleasure from you.” She
sat up and nodded toward his manhood.

“That is not what I asked, little wife.” He stroked her face and tipped it up toward him. “Does my body please you, Alyse? I would know how you regard your husband.”

Need he even ask? “My experience with the male form is most limited, as you know. But yes, husband, you please me well. You are beautiful, Geoffrey.” Alyse ran her hands over his hips and down his firm thighs. Her heaven here on earth. “I would pray to God to let me gaze upon your body ere I took my last breath in this world and die happy.”

“Let us live happy first, love.” Geoffrey pushed her back onto the bed. He wrapped his long legs around hers, entwining them together in a glorious tangle of limbs. Her belly kissed his as she pressed against him,
relishing
the intimacy of his skin on hers. She wanted to feel all of him. She slid her arm around his shoulder and cringed when she touched the long, smooth scar on the left side of his back.

“’Tis nothing, love. Be easy.”
He hovered over her lips, teasing her with his absence before landing with the fluttering lightness of a butterfly’s wing.

Oh, but he would
drive her wild.

At last he settled onto the dark mole that he always favored.
He set his tongue to play with the mark, before finally parting her lips and drinking deep of her.

“Oh, Alyse, love. I ha
ve dreamed of this moment so long,” he murmured, pressing kisses down the length of her neck to her breasts. He tormented her nipple with small strokes of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth.

Mother of God, how does he know what to do to make me want to…

He grazed the tip with his teeth.

A moan caught low in her throat
, and she writhed as the ache in her breasts joined the quivering need between her thighs.

He
headed lower, across her belly, and her body trembled at the warm, wet caresses. Neither were his hands idle. One he slipped underneath her hips to cup her backside, the other he sent into the dark curls that hid her womanhood. Swiftly, he slid two fingers inside her.

“Ahhh. Geoffrey.” She closed her eyes and ground her hips, but he held her fast,
caressing her slowly. “Hurry, my love. I…I want you.”

“One moment,
sweet.” He moved lower still and touched his tongue to her pleasure bud.

“Ohhhh.” The low, guttural moan seemed to vibrate up from her very soul. And by God, the louder she moaned, the quicker he plied the little pearl with his tongue, working in rhythm with his fingers.
’Twas coming now, just as she wanted.

“Geoffrey. Oh, sweet Jesu.” Her body rocked back and forth, gripped in the throes of passion. Below, where he still worked her, she
throbbed again and again, waves of pleasure gripping and releasing his fingers until she shuddered one last time, and darkness overwhelmed her.

* * * *

Geoffrey slowly ceased his attentions then rose to lie beside her, enfolding her limp body in his arms, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her ear.

“Alyse?” he whispered
. “Are you well, love?” He would have wagered so, with the shrieks of her pleasure still sounding in his ears.

She stared at him with glazed eyes and nodded. A small smile touched her lips.
She gave a breathless little sigh, and closed her eyes.

He n
estled his face against her neck. “Sleep, my sweet. Rest. Savor each moment. There will be more to come ere long, I give you my word.”

Her smile broadened.

“Shall I hold you the while, little wife?”

Again
, she nodded and curled her spent body into the curve of his. He sighed, more than content that he had brought her this ultimate bliss. His need could cool while she rested. They had the whole night before them in which to take delight in one other.

He cradled her, his mind drifting back to all the dark nights he had lain awake, dreaming of this night,
of his beloved once again in his arms. He had made love to her in his imagination a thousand times, in a thousand different ways, each one created lovingly to serve her pleasure. His own gratification had hinged on his ability to give her the joy they had been denied. He had envisioned her response to his touch, although her actual response tonight, calling his name as she shattered, had been more satisfying than he had imagined. And had inflamed his desires all the more.