Dragonblade Trilogy - 03 - The Savage Curtain (20 page)

The first thrust had him seated
almost completely.   Joselyn gasped at the swift, insistent entry and wrapped
her arms around his neck, holding fast as he grasped her buttocks and held her
firm as he thrust again.   Holding her against his pelvis, he thrust into her
repeatedly as her tight walls pulled at him, enjoying every withdrawal and
every thrust with the greatest of pleasure.  As delightful as it was, however,
they were in a moderately awkward on the stool and, still embedded in her, he
rose and stepped out of the pot.   

He had no idea how he made it
over to the bed; next thing he realized, she was on her back on the mattress
and he was driving into her hard enough to rattle her teeth.  He thrust so hard
that he ended up scooting her to the head of the bed and she put her hands up
against the wall to prevent her skull from smacking into it.  Stephen held her
tightly, driving deep into her womb, feeling more power and sensation than he
had ever known when she suddenly stiffened and he could feel her sugared walls
spasm.  She bit off a cry on her hand, biting down so hard that she left deep
red welts.   When Stephen felt his pleasure approach, he resumed kissing her,
tasting her mouth as his seed spilled deep into her body.

He was still kissing her when his
thrusts died completely, but his kisses were far gentler, more adoring, as if
to convey the depth of emotion he was coming to feel for her.  His hands moved
over her body tenderly, inspecting the texture of her skin and memorizing the
feel of her hard nipple in his fingers.   He glanced up at her, seeing that she
lay with her eyes closed and an arm over her eyes.  He kissed her chin,
fondling a breast, and she groaned with pleasure and wriggled her hips.   He
was still embedded in her body and the action from her hips stirred his lust
again; in little time, he was hard again and he made love to her a second time,
far more slowly and luxuriously, feeling her multiple releases before he joined
her.

When it was over, Stephen fell
into an exhausted sleep with his great head on Joselyn’s chest.  He started
snoring heavily almost immediately and she smiled faintly, knowing how fatigued
the man was.  Very carefully, she shifted so that she could grasp the coverlet
and pull it up over them both without waking him.  She jostled him slightly but
he didn’t rouse.   Pulling the coverlet up over them both and wedging a pillow
under her head so she would be more comfortable, Joselyn wrapped her arms
around Stephen’s head and neck and languished away the hours as he slept on
her. 

She couldn’t think of anything on
earth she would rather do.

***

Stephen awoke just as the sun was
setting and made love to his wife twice more before allowing her out of the
bed.  Even then, it was only because she begged to use the chamber pot.  With a
grin, he rolled onto his back, an enormous arm behind his head as he gazed out
of the lancet window while Joselyn discreetly went about her necessities.  When
she finally emerged into his line of sight, she had pulled a shift on and a
rich yellow surcoat that was marvelous with her dark hair.  She looked like an
angel.  He gazed at her, sighing with appreciation.              She smiled at
him, running his horsehair brush, now dry, through her dark hair. 

“It is approaching the evening
meal,” she said. “Will you not rise and attend?”

“Will
you be there?” he flirted gently.

She
returned his flirt coyly as she brushed the ends of her hair. “I will be
wherever you are, my lord.”

He grinned, lifting his right
hand a crooking a finger at her. “Come here.”

She fought off a grin, gliding
across the floor until she came within arm’s length of the bed. “Aye, my lord?”
He reached out and snatched her, causing her to fall across his chest.  Her
dark hair splayed across them both as his smoldering cornflower blue eyes bore
into her.

“I must confess something,” he
murmured.

“What is that?”

“I do not want to share you with
anyone tonight.”

She blushed furiously. “But you
must eat.”

He ran his hand through her hair,
studying her lovely face pensively. “Perhaps,” he murmured, grasping her hair
and bringing it to his nose. “But more than that, I am reluctant to admit that
I do have duties that I must attend. I do not want to leave you.”

“What duties?”

He wriggled his eyebrows. “It has
been a few hours since the end of a particularly nasty assault against the city
and castle. I must see how things have settled.”

She cocked her head. “Settled?”

“To see if anything has changed.
To assess the state of the city and castle.”

“Oh,” she nodded in
understanding, watching him smell her hair. “May I come with you as you go
about your duties?”

He went from smelling her hair to
touching her face. “I am sure they would not interest you.”

“Please?”

He opened his mouth to refuse her
but gazing into her lovely, eager face, he found that he could not. He wanted
to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.  The more time he spent
with her, the more he never wanted to be separated from her.

“Very well,” he nodded with
resignation. “Finish dressing and get your shoes on.”

With a grin of triumph, she leapt
off the bed and furiously finished brushing her hair.  Stephen watched her a
moment before tossing the coverlet off his naked body and digging into his bags
for a clean pair of breeches.  As Joselyn braided her hair in a single braid
that draped elegantly over one shoulder, Stephen pulled on his breeches, and
unfurled a clean tunic.  He pulled it over his head, adjusting the sleeves on
his big arms, all the while watching Joselyn as she tied off the end of her
braid and went on the hunt for her slippers.  She was an enrapturing creature
to watch.

Stephen sat down to pull on his
massive knee-high boots.  He didn’t even realize his eyes never left Joselyn as
she moved quickly about their chamber. He found himself memorizing the way she
moved, every fluid shift of her body. It was magic. 

Her shoes were finally on and she
planted herself in front of him, the pale blue eyes glittering expectantly.

“Well?” she said in the same tone
she had used when she had ordered him to lift his arms in the bath. “Where is
our first destination?”

He suppressed a smile and rose
from the bed, towering over her. “The walls.”

“Then let us waste no more time.”

“Aye, General.”

She grinned at him, watching his
smile break through and then laughing at him. He took her hand and led her from
the bower, from that magical chamber that had provided them with hours upon
hours of discovery.  It was a safe haven for them, a retreat, and a place of
worship.  Stephen shut the door behind them, looking forward to their return to
the chamber.

The sky was splashed with shades
of blue and purple as they entered the bailey.  It had been a warm day and the
ward was dusty, dogs running about and soldiers going about their duties. 
Clouds of dust billowed up from their feet as they moved across the bailey; the
hall was lit and inviting, and they could see people inside as Stephen took her
to the wall.   From the vantage point high above the city, the views at sunset
were spectacular but for the devastation below.

Mounting the top of the stairs
and stepping onto the wall, Joselyn paused at her first clear vision of Berwick
since the many battles over the past month had ravaged it.  From her position,
she could see that certain sections of the city were fairly untouched and smoke
rose from cooking fires in those areas.  But a vast area of the city was burnt
and destroyed; life, as far as she could determine, did not exist there.  It
was a sobering reality, one she hadn’t truly grasped until this moment.

Stephen had started across the
wall walk but paused when he realized she was not following.  He turned to see
her gazing out over the dying city with tears in her eyes.  He retraced his
steps, putting his big arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture.

“Come along, sweetheart,” he
murmured.

She blinked and the tears
spattered. Quickly, she wiped them away. “There is so much destruction.”

“I told you there was.”

“I suppose I did not realize how
bad it was.”

Stephen’s gaze moved out over the
city; he was accustomed to the sight. “War tends to devastate all it touches. 
The city was not too terribly off after Halidon but the counter attack the past
couple of days saw that particular aspect changed.  The Scots did a good deal
of damage.”

She turned to him. “But why?”

He studied her expression,
wondering if she already knew the answer and was simply asking to see what his
reaction would be.  The truth was, no matter how wildly in love he was, he had
only known the woman a few days.  Before that, she had been his enemy.  Stephen
was not naturally trusting, not even with his wife.  With him, trust was
something to be earned. 

“Because they would rather ravage
the city than see it ruled by the English,” he explained carefully. “Surely you
know that.”

She sniffled delicately. “But it
makes no sense. Many of our kinsmen live here.”

“Kinsmen and rebels,” he
muttered, his gaze moving out over the city again as he thought of Kynan Lott
MacKenzie deep in the vault of Berwick. “I would not worry about it if I were
you. Berwick will know peace again someday.”

She allowed him to pull her along
the wall walk, lifting her skirts so she would not step on them as they mounted
steps leading to a higher portion of the parapet. “What is the difference
between rebels and Scots who simply fight for their king?” she asked.

He shrugged faintly. “Rebels are
generally subversive and uncaring about who they devastate; they are so
determined to destroy the enemy that they will even kill Scots who get in their
way. That makes them particularly dangerous.”

She thought on that a moment. “My
father was not a rebel. He cared very much for Berwick and her people.”

Stephen paused at the entrance to
a corner tower.  He still found it difficult to believe that after all her
father had put her through, she still spoke kindly of him. “As I said, I would
not worry about it if I were you,” he touched her face gently. “I have the
situation well in hand.”

“What do you mean?”

He wriggled his eyebrows and took
her hand, leading her into the dark and gloomy tower. “I have a rebel leader in
my vault.  Once he tells me what I need to know, I will do what needs to be
done in order to quell these insurgents once and for all.”

They emerged from the tower onto
another portion of the wall walk. “Scots are a stubborn bunch,” she said
dubiously. “I would not be surprised if he would die before telling you a
thing.”

“It is possible.”

“Who is this rebel leader?”

He paused with something that
sounded like a grunt; in fact, it was a pensive release.  He was not surprised
that she had asked the man’s name but he hadn’t decided whether or not he had
planned to tell her should she ask.  Drawing a long, deep breath, his
cornflower blue gaze moved over the smoking landscape of the north side of the
castle.

“A man of some influence.”

She waited for more of an answer
and lifted her eyebrows expectantly when none was forthcoming. “Who is he?”

Stephen looked at her then,
cocking his head as he did so.  He released her hand, folding his massive arms
across his broad chest.

“Does
it matter?”
She shrugged, shaking her head. “I suppose not,” she said. “I was just curious,
‘tis all.”

“You are also venturing into
information that does not concern you.”

Her mouth popped open in surprise
at the rebuke but she quickly shut it and averted her gaze. “I am sorry,” she
moved around him, continuing their walk. “I was simply making conversation. I
was not attempting to extract vital information out of you.  And I thought that
if perhaps I know this man, I could help you.”

He reached out and grasped her
arm before she could get away. It was not a harsh gesture and she came to a
halt, still keeping her gaze averted.

“Help me?” he was looking at her
even though she was not looking at him. “How on earth would you do that?”

She shook her head, gently but
firmly pulling her arm free of his grasp and continuing along their walk. “It
does not matter,” she said. “Let us speak no more of it.”

He watched her take a few steps
away from him before calling to her. “Jo-Jo,” he commanded softly, firmly.

His tone made her come to a halt
and face him. “Aye, husband?”

His cornflower blue eyes were
glittering, reflecting the magnificent colors of the sunset. Slowly, he closed
the distance between them.  His eyes remained fixed on her.

“I did not believe you were
attempting to extract vital information from me,” he said quietly. “But there
are certain things, especially pertaining to my command of Berwick, that do not
concern you.  It is better that you do not know.”