Boadicea's Legacy (32 page)

He led Bartholomew past the castle and toward a silent pasture. “There's an oak tree with branches so wide and sturdy, they could be a roof. We will let them shelter us this night, eh?”

Ela's accepting smile filled his heart with more joy than he knew what to do with. So he whistled lightly as they cantered.

“What song is that?” Ela asked.

“One my mother used to sing,” he answered—for the first time bringing up her memory without wanting to die of shame.

“It is very pretty. My sister Galiana is a musician. She might know that song already, but if she didn't, she'd want to learn it. Oh—is this the place? It is beautiful! And so romantic, I never would have imagined that you knew of a place like this. What other secrets are you hiding?”

He kissed her cheek then dismounted, pulling her along with him. Ordering Bartholomew and Henry to stay out of sight, he led Ela beneath the branches. Shaking out his cloak, and laying it down for a blanket, he dropped to his knees. “Would you join me, fair lady?”

Ela's green eyes were as luminous as the moon and twinkled like the stars. He pulled her down, then flipped her to her back so that they were each lying flat and staring up at the sky. “Beware—'tis hypnotic.”

“How peaceful,” she said softly, “as if no trouble can
find us here.” She snuggled closer to his side, and he smiled into the night.

“No trouble. Just pleasure. I promised a thousand years ago to love you for eternity.” He flipped to his side, so that he rested on one elbow. Her eyes met his, and he traced the outline of her lips with his finger.

She teasingly nipped the end, then followed the bite with a kiss.

He groaned. “Let me speak, Ela, please? I would love you forever. I couldn't believe what I saw in your dream—but I had no choice, did I? It was real. I can't explain it, but I have to believe it. Brother William suggested that I call your magic a miracle and get on with my life—with you.”

She blinked, her long lashes framing her eyes. “I have a monk to thank for getting you to love me? You will have to tell me which church, for I'll drop off a donation.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Aye. A large one. But, Ela, tonight I feel as happy as I've ever felt—because I get to love you as I should have loved you each time we tried. We'll not fail again. I won't disappoint you, and I won't let you go.”

“You know then, that we have this one chance to find happiness?”

“Aye. And now that I've opened my heart, I know that we can forge a bond so strong that not even time can break it. This life will be different.”

Ela seemed to hesitate at his words, then she sighed and lifted her lips for a kiss. “I believe you. But show me anyway.”

He leaned down, pressing his mouth to her slightly parted lips. “God, I love you.” He rested his hand at the indent of her waist. The beautiful gown that he'd picked out for her was now a nuisance, the cloth a barrier between his flesh and hers. “I don't think I'll ever grow tired of saying it.”

“Nor will I tire of hearing it.”

She grabbed him by the hair, guiding his mouth back to hers. “I yearn for you, Os. Can't you feel my heart pounding?”

He ran his fingers from her waist to her rib cage to her breast. The weight of the rounded mound in his palm made his mouth water. “Aye, it echoes my own.”

They kissed, mouths battling for victory—but in this game, they each would win—Os would make certain of it. He remembered that even though they'd made love a thousand years ago, in this time, his bride-to-be was still a virgin.

He would go slow, no matter how much it pained him.

Ela tapped her fists against his shoulders. “You are going too slow, sir knight. I'm in distress, and ‘tis up to you to see me saved, my thirst quenched, my hunger slaked.” Her eyes turned so green they were almost as black as the sky above. She flicked her tongue over her lower lip, tempting and teasing.

His groin throbbed hot and heavy within his breeches, and he couldn't keep from pressing the weight of his penis into the vee of her thighs. She tossed her head back, baring her slender throat to his assault, widening her legs as far as the gown would allow.

“Osbert, I am too hot. I would be cooler in my undergown.
Will you help me with the laces at my back?”

His eyes crossed with lust. He was really, honest to God in all His infinite mercy, going to sink his shaft into the love of his multiples lives. “Aye.” His voice was a croak, a harsh, guttural sound that conveyed his need.

She sat up and turned her back to him. While he fumbled with the laces, she removed the short hat and veils from her head. Then, like a mythological goddess, she ran her fingers through her long, long, long, waving hair. “Searching for pins,” she explained with a coy look over her shoulder.

Os shivered in the night, shivered with need for this one woman. Ela. Ana. Her name didn't matter—his spiritual essence would recognize hers no matter what plane of existence they were on.

He plunged his fingers into the thick waves cascading down her back, pooling like ruby thread at her buttocks. Os pulled the blue gown down over her shoulders, trapping her arms as he leaned in to nibble her earlobe. Short hot breaths made her squirm.

I'll remember that
.

She tried to get free, but he wouldn't let her go. “I promised you pleasure, my lady, and pleasure you will get.”

Ela gave in to his game with a sigh. “Hurry, then, will you? I've been waiting for this night my entire life, and, and—and
—oh
…”

His lips found the tender spot between her bare shoulder blades. He licked, laving his warm, moist tongue in quick succession—enjoying each goose bump that rose
beneath the onslaught of his tongue.

She tried to turn and bring her mouth to his, but he kept his grip on the sleeves of her gown. He finally lowered the sleeves, only to peel the linen dress down to her waist. Her sheer undergown left nothing to the imagination—and was no barrier to either modesty or his assault. The cleavage of her bottom took his breath away.

“You win,” he said.

“I've done nothing,” she breathed out, her eyes wide.

“You are beautiful in form and soul. I am the conquered.”

She rose to her knees and tackled him backward, straddling him as if he were a horse. Her short undergown rode up her thighs, baring the red curls of hair protecting her womanhood.

“I am the victor?” Her nipples puckered beneath the sheer undergown. His mouth dried to dust.

“Aye,” he rasped. “Have your way with me, but be quick, ere I expire before the deed is done.”

She giggled, but eyed his body with new interest.

“What are you thinking?” He flexed his muscles.

“I'll show you …” She proceeded to undress him, her unskilled fingers more tender than any more experienced. With each touch, she kissed the bared skin—with each kiss, he grew harder and harder. He lifted his hips so that she could pull down his breeches. He didn't wear underclothes.

Ela gasped as his manhood sprang free, not from fear, but from wonderment. He realized that making love in the dream had shown her what their joining would be—it was up to him to make her expectations come true.

Jealous of himself? Never.

He took control of the situation before it was too late.

Os ravaged her skin with his tongue—her scalp, her nose, her cheekbone, the hollow at the base of her throat, the line between her proud breasts. He spent extra care on each pert and eager nipple.

Then he slid his way down her belly, massaging her hip bones with his palm, teasing her feminine secrets by skimming over the top of her mound without delving inside.

She squirmed and bit her lip, tossing her head from side to side. “I need you, Osbert. I want you.”

Osbert. That was his name in this life, and this life was the one that counted. He plunged his tongue into her hidden folds, and she came with a soft cry of surprise. Leaning on one elbow, he quickly entered her moist cavern while she was in the throes of pleasure, and he caught her hiss of pain in his mouth as he broke through.

He stayed still, knowing that if he moved even one muscle, he would be done for.

When she quivered beneath him, still spasming with her own pleasure, he couldn't hold back any longer. “You are mine.”

She opened her eyes, smiling like a satiated lover. “And you are mine.”

E
la woke to the sounds of birds chirping and Henry making an odd sound above her. Opening her eyes to the tree branches, she blinked—recalling each loving moment beneath the stars. Her belly tingled—as did other parts of her body—and she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest.

She realized that she was both naked and alone at the same time.

Quickly reaching for her blue gown—St. Mary Magdalene only knew what had become of her undergarment—Ela drew the fabric down over her tangled hair and got to her feet, unsteadily and with a groan of satisfied soreness.

Henry bounded across the tree branches, chastising her from above. “Don't yell at me,” she pointed her finger at the polecat and grinned. “Today is my wedding day. I don't suppose you know where the groom is?”

Henry jumped down to the tree trunk, as agile with three legs as he would have been with four. He tore off across the grass at the base of the tree, to where Bartholomew
calmly chewed and nibbled at the grass. There was no sign of Osbert.

“He can't have changed his mind … not again. Not after last eve.” She hugged her arms around her waist and raised her face to the sun. “This is a blessed day.”

“I couldn't agree more, my lady.”

Osbert carried a skin, dripping with water, and a handful of blackberries. “Last time you brought me food to break my fast. This time, I would be your servant.”

Her heart leapt with happiness. Ela ran toward her handsome and marvelous lover and jumped into his arms. He had to drop the fruit and skin, or drop her.

The provisions fell to the ground as he met her mouth in an open kiss that took her breath from her lungs to her mouth—to his.

“You are divine,” she said against his neck. “Did I mention I thought you looked like a Roman god?”

He growled against her throat and cupped her buttocks with his large, capable hands.

She tugged at his shoulders.

“Nay, vixen. I'll not bed you again until we are good and wed. Last night was but a taste of what married life will be.” He pinched her bottom then dropped her to the ground. “Watch out for the berries, they were scarce.”

He bent down, his bare shoulders tan and muscled and scarred in the sun's light. She'd felt his scars last evening, but hadn't thought to comment on them. She'd not felt any residual pain or infection, so she thought it best to leave that
for another day … Ela had an idea that the story of his scars would tie in with the story of his childhood.

When he stretched upward, a handful of berries in his palm, her mouth was watering, aye, but because of the line of darkly golden hair that led beneath his breeches.

She sucked in a stream of air and reached for a berry.

Plopping the tart fruit in her mouth, she closed her eyes and thought of anything but her
almost
husband, standing
nearly
naked before her.

His taste was stronger than the fruit, and she carried his scent in her nostrils. The remembered feel of his muscled abdomen beneath her fingers made her belly tighten, and she bit her lower lip, desperately trying to think of … anything else.

Os chuckled behind her. “I can feel your desire, and don't think, Ela, that I want you less. ‘Tis simply that I don't want to miss our appointment with the priest. I will have you, by God and all that is holy. I will have land and a home, Ela.”

Her desire ebbed. He'd been ordered to marry her by his liege lord. For land. For a chance to make his own home. What if—
nay
. Last evening had been proof enough for her that his love was genuine.

He was the suspicious one
.

He showed her a small trickle of a cold stream where she washed before they left for the castle. “I'd like to have a proper bath before our wedding. But this is the only dress I have, and now it has grass stains on it.”

Os helped her up on top of Bartholomew, settling her
before him as if she were precious glass. He kissed her cheek. “There will come a day when I will buy you a different dress for each hour of the day.”

Ela laughed. “And what about the night, sir jester?”

“At night,” he growled, “you will be naked. No night-clothes betwixt us. Aye, I think that will be my first demand as your husband.”

“You think to give me many demands, Osbert?”

“Nay, my lady Ela. You are my princess, and there will be no demands made upon you that you wouldn't willingly offer.”

She snuggled back against his chest, content to learn how to love—something she'd never thought to find for herself—while remaining herself. The fact that she still couldn't detect Os's aura was a small worry.
I should have asked Kailyn about that
.

By the time they reached the castle gates, the Earl of Norfolk's estate was bustling as people went about their errands. “Who are all these people?” Ela's hectic life at the manor house seemed quiet and sedate compared to the hustle here.

“Freedmen come to the courts in the left tower to pay taxes or rent. Merchants get their licenses—it is mostly official business. The earl's family is in residence, so that means more grooms for the horses, more chambermaids—more inside staff. The Countess Ida never goes anywhere without her personal priest and each of the children has their own nurse.”

“Which means that the kitchens would require more servants … it would be very difficult to keep the enemy out,
if you didn't know they were the enemy.”