The White Lord of Wellesbourne (16 page)

When they reached her chamber,
Matthew led her inside and closed the door softly behind her.  The bed drew
Alixandrea’s attention and with a fatigued sigh, she fell atop the mattress
without so much as removing her shoes. Matthew stood by the door.

“Your exhaustion is
understandable,” he said with some compassion. “It seems that all You have
known is chaos since setting foot on Wellesbourne land.”

She shifted on the bed so that
she was looking at him. “Aye, ‘tis been a bit chaotic. First there was the
battle the day I arrived.…”

“… and the feast the first night,
followed by the wedding that almost never happened…”

“… and now I almost plummet to my
death from the gallery banister. Is there anything else that could possibly
happen to me?”

He grinned. “Let us hope not.”

She sighed heavily, her nerves
finally at rest. Truth be known, Matthew seemed to have a great hand in helping
her ease. His presence was comforting and calming.

“Hopefully, whatever bad fortunes
that seemed to have befallen me will have run their course by now,” she said.
“I am not sure how much more I can take.”

“Nor I,” he said, chuckling
softly when she rolled her eyes in agreement. “Shall I leave you now to rest,
wife?”

Alixandrea pondered the question.
It suddenly occurred to her that they were truly alone, without any threat of
interruption or spying. Not even Caroline could protest their being alone, as
she had been witness to their marriage.

Her heart suddenly began to race,
wondering if he meant what she thought he meant.  She did not know if she was
ready for such a thing, especially after the events of the past few minutes.
But the more she thought on what he perhaps might be suggesting, the more the
thoughts of her chaotic first days faded.  She wasn’t so exhausted, after all.
She could feel her cheeks grow hot with a little fear, and a lot of
anticipation.

“Do you want to leave, husband?”

“Nay.”

He did not hesitate as he walked
into the room. She sat up on the mattress, gazing up at him as he came to a
halt beside the bed.

 “Do you know that I sat up all
night, watching you on the wall?” she said. “I was afraid something horrible
was going to happen to you.”

He lifted a blond eyebrow. “So
you would watch it happen?”

“Nay,” she shook her head. “I
wanted to stop it. If it was going to come from the men of Whitewell, then I
felt it my duty to stop them.”

“And just how did you intend to
do that?”

She shrugged. “Short of throwing
projectiles out of my window or howling at the moon, I really don’t know. I had
hoped that if it came to that, some marvelous idea would come to me.”

“Then I thank God that my life
did not depend upon your brilliant defense plan.”

She laughed softly, knowing he
was right, knowing it had been foolish of her.  But she had no idea how much
her gesture, however small, had touched him. He reached down, gently touching
her chin, her cheek.

“I know you were awake,” he said
in his soft, rich voice. “I watched you all night, too, though that very
window. Not much of a way to spend a wedding night.”

She shrugged, lowering her gaze
coyly.  “I would not know, my lord. I have never had a wedding night.”

“I shall see what I can do about
that.”

He sat down on the bed next to
her. He was such a large man that the small wood and rope bed frame creaked
dangerously. Alixandrea barely had time to look at him before he was descending
on her, his lips clamping down over hers and his powerful arms winding around
her body. 

As it had the first time he had
kissed her, the heat and fervor of the passion between them overwhelmed her
senses and she could do naught but submit to his tender ambush. He kissed her
softly, joyfully, succulently. She was barely aware when he laid her back on
the bed, his mouth still against hers, his arms embracing her tightly.

His hands, as large and calloused
as they were, nonetheless possessed the gentlest touch she had ever
experienced. They caressed her back, her arms, moving to her face and neck and
stroking her skin tenderly.  His lips moved to her cheeks, her ears, suckling
her neck as if it was the most delectable morsel. The sensations were
overpowering and Alixandrea surrendered completely, loosing herself in the
maelstrom of heat he created.

“I am sorry,” he suddenly pushed
himself up onto one elbow, his face looming over her. “Perhaps this is too much
for you. We barely know each other, after all. I am simply a stranger who is
now your husband. If you would prefer to leave this intimacy until we come to
know one another better, I understand. I do not want to hurt or frighten you,
but I swear that I cannot keep my hands off you. Something about you… it causes
me to lose control and I am a man unused to such lack of discipline.”

Alixandrea gazed at him; the man
was nearly too good to be true, apologizing for his weakness. Any other man in
his right mind would have taken her on the spot, without question or regrets.
She was not so naïve that she did not know that. She was older than most brides
and had therefore been privy to much talk in that arena. The servants at
Whitewell and Pickering had been quite free with dispensing their knowledge.

“You have not hurt nor frightened
me so far,” she said softly. “I am your wife, Matthew. It is your right to
claim me.”

“I know what my rights are. I was
attempting to consider your feelings.”

“It feels good so far.”

He eyed her, seeing a double
meaning in her words. He took it as encouragement. A grin spread across his
face and he lowered his head, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth above her own.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure.”

“Then let us see if we cannot
make it feel even better.”

His tongue invaded her mouth.
More attuned to it this time, she invited him in, her own tongue playing
timidly with his. He laughed low in his throat and his hand left her shoulder,
moving down the swell of her breast. Focused on what his hand was doing, she
closed her eyes as his lips suckled her chin and moved along her jaw line.

His fingers were moving between
her breasts, drawing a sensual outline around the left one.  She could feel him
moving across her rise of her breast, into intimate territory, and she flinched
with he found her sensitive nipple. He smiled against her flesh and his big
palm closed in over her ample bosom. It was more than a handful for him.

He caressed her a few times,
acquainting himself with the softness of her delicious body. Alixandrea had
never experienced something so electrifying and a groan escaped her lips.
Ignited by her response to his touch, Matthew suddenly pulled her to a seated
position and unfastened her surcoat as quickly as his big fingers would allow.
He pulled it up over her head, leaving her in her soft sheath.  Almost
simultaneously, he removed his tunic, bearing his massive chest.

 Dazed, Alixandrea stared at his
broad chest, the muscles bulging and his skin a lovely golden-pale color.  She
hardly noticed when he unfastened the stays of her corset and the thing popped
free.  He could not pull it off of her so he yanked it over her head. In his
haste, her hair caught in the metal stays and they ended up laughing as he
unwound her hair from its tangle.

“Sorry, love,” he said as he
deftly unwound the mess. “This wasn’t part of my master plan.”

She giggled as the hair came free
and he tossed the corset aside. He paused a moment, gazing down at her. He
could not help the smile on his face. Though it was normally close to the
surface, it seemed perpetual when she was around.

“I have never in my life seen
such a sweet face,” he murmured. “Every time I look at you, I can hardly
believe that you are real.”

She did not know what to say. His
words made her feel warm and wanted, more than she could have imagined and
better than she had ever hoped for. The White Lord was hers, and she as his,
and both seemed very pleased at the prospect.

Still dressed in her sheath,
Matthew lay his wife back down on the mattress, the thin layer of linen the
only barrier between their bare skin. He could feel her taut nipples brushing
through the material, rubbing against his chest, and it nearly drove him mad.  
He laid his body atop her so that he wasn’t crushing her and also so one hand
could have free rein; when his lips latched onto her soft earlobe, his right
hand went to work.

His fingers snaked underneath her
sheath, lifting it up as he went.  Her skin was like velvet to his rough-hewn
fingers, and he literally had to stop himself from trembling as his hand
trailed up her thighs to her buttocks, moving further to her hip. When the
sheath came up as high as her groin, he felt her hesitate and modestly try to
keep it from coming up any further.  His lips left her earlobe and went to her
mouth, kissing her until she could hardly take a breath.  It distracted her
enough so that he was able to lift the sheath to her waist. His mouth still on
hers, he put both hands underneath the sheath and lifted it over her head in
one clean motion.

In the same action, he lifted up
the side of the coverlet, covering her enough for modesty so that she would not
feel exposed. It was a considerate thing to do, but Matthew, unlike most men,
had always been intuitively considerate.  Perhaps it was his mother’s
influence, the gentle Audrey; whatever the reason, he was thoughtful in a way
that Alixandrea would benefit from.  She never felt exposed or uncomfortable as
Matthew covered her and removed his boots and breeches. Somehow, it all came
off in the heat of passion and soon they were both nude beneath the turned up
corner of the coverlet.

Matthew never said a word as his
mouth returned to her, only now it explored beneath her neckline. Her
shoulders, the swell of her breasts, and her arms were all targets for his
tender lips.  Alixandrea lay there, smothered by his enormous body and tented
with the coverlet, feeling the predominant emotions of comfort and satisfaction
and something she could not yet define. Having never been intimate with a man,
the painful tingling in her arms and legs was something she’d never known, and
every time he suckled her skin, it made her want to gasp. A few times, she
did.  But when Matthew’s mouth latched onto a nipple, she achieved an entirely
new level of sensation she’d not yet conceived of.

His hot, moist mouth nearly
brought her off the bed. He put his hands on her arms, holding her to the
mattress as he suckled.  First one breast and then the other; Alixandrea’s head
was spinning with exhilaration.  Matthew’s attentions were becoming more and
more insistent has he held her down while his mouth ravaged her. Soon he
released her and his hands joined in the plunder.  Alixandrea lay beneath him,
too upswept with the new experience to be of much use.  But when his hand moved
to the fluff of soft curls between her legs, she instinctively flinched.

“’Tis all right, sweet girl,” he
murmured. “I promise that I will be gentle.”

His voice, so soft and soothing
in her ear, gave her courage. It also sent chills up her spine. Everything was
so new and consuming. She would have to trust him; he’d not failed her yet. In
fact, he had gone out of his way to make sure she was secure.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

He shifted his body so that he
wedged himself in between her luscious legs. His hands were on her, everywhere;
he could not seem to touch her fast enough, tenderly enough. She was so
delectable that he was like a starving man at a feast; everything was
appealing.  He wanted to gorge himself. But he had to remember that she was
oh-so-new to this, and that constant reminder tempered his rampage.

But not entirely. He wanted to
feel himself inside of her. He kissed her hard as he eased into her, feeling
her slickness against his member. He played with her, easing in, withdrawing,
making way further and further inside of her each time. Finally, he could stand
it no longer and he pulled back and drove hard, seating himself deep inside of
her. The most she did was draw in a sharp breath; there was nothing more. No
crying, no hysterics.  Relieved, encouraged, his kisses softened against her
mouth as he slowly began to move.

It had been a long time since
Matthew had been with a woman. So long, in fact, that he could not remember
when last he touched female flesh. But gazing down at Alixandrea’s face, it was
if no other woman had existed before her. It was a struggle not to erupt
immediately into her sweet body; he wanted to savor it, to feel it, and he
wanted her to do the same.

 In the soft afternoon light that
drifted in through the lancet window, Matthew gazed down at her body, shielded
by the coverlet that covered them both; her breasts were round and firm and
peaked, her stomach flat, her slender legs parted to receive him. 

It was too much to take. He
shouldn’t have looked at her. One hand supporting himself and the other hand on
her buttock, his thrusts grew more insistent.  He knew his pleasure was coming
quickly and he did not want to stop it. The hand on her buttock moved between
them and he stroked the damp curls, feeling the place where their bodies
melded.