Knights (42 page)

“Give the women a few moments to do their work, lad,” Gareth counseled gently, holding tightly to Dane’s arm. “ ’Tis a private matter, and they’ll summon you when ’tis proper.”

Dane was all but frantic; he wanted to see the babe, of course, but more than that, he needed to look upon Gloriana, to know she was unharmed—that she had not given her very life to deliver a broad-shouldered St. Gregory son, as his own fair and youthful mother had done.

“Gloriana—?” he rasped.

“—is strong.” Merrymont finished for him. In the interval since their confrontation with swords, Dane and the older man had become friendly, after a fashion. Dane had yet to address his relative by his Christian name, which was Landry, but he knew that in time such an accord would be reached.

After what seemed the lifetime of one of those distant stars Gloriana had told Dane about, the heavy door swung open and Elaina appeared in the chasm, smiling as she regarded Kenbrook.

“Come in, milord. Your lady wife and a sturdy son await you.”

Dane shrugged free of Merrymont and Gareth and might have overset his sister-in-law in his hurry to reach Gloriana and the babe, had Elaina not been quick to step back out of the way.

Gloriana lay in the great bed they had shared so happily, hair trailing, freshly brushed but still moist with her exertions, skin glowing. Her green eyes were bright with pride as she met Dane’s suddenly blurred gaze.

In her arms lay the babe, swaddled now, red and ugly and roughly the size of a piglet.

Gloriana laughed at his expression and beamed as her husband bent to kiss her forehead. She had ever been able to read Dane’s thoughts, and this time was no exception. “Don’t worry, my love,” she said. “He’ll be as handsome as you are one day, and no one could ask for more than that.”

“Did he hurt you?” Dane whispered. They had long since agreed, he and Gloriana, that their child would be a boy, to be called Aric in honor of an especially brave St. Gregory ancestor, but even his worst fears had not prepared Dane for the sheer size of the little brute.

Gently, Gloriana caressed the babe’s fair, downy head. “Aric did nothing but get himself born,” she said in a soft, weary voice. “The midwife says I’m well built for the bearing of children, and the others will come easier.”

As though touching a holy relic or a part of the true Cross, Dane laid a tentative fingertip to his son’s plump cheek. “There have been times,” Kenbrook said reverently, “when I doubted I would live to see this day.”

With her free hand, Gloriana reached up, her graceful fingers threaded through Dane’s rumpled hair. “Can you stand the strain of it, milord?” she asked, teasing. “It does appear that fatherhood has already taken its toll on you.”

Dane’s eyes filled with tears of relief, of joy, of love. “I was never so afraid,” he confessed, for Elaina and the servants had gone, and they were alone in the round tower chamber that had once, however briefly, been their prison.

“Did I not tell you I could stand childbed, and much more, Dane St. Gregory?”

“I heard you scream,” he said, and shivered at the memory. He had heard other shrieks of pain, in far grimmer circumstances, but none had affected him in quite the same way Gloriana’s cries had. He’d hurled himself at the door and had to be restrained.

“ ’Tis natural to cry out,” she said. “Yes, there’s pain. A lot of it. But the screaming served more to let go of tension than anything else.”

He took her fingers from his hair and kissed the knuckles, one by one. “All the same, I would sooner take the ordeal on my own shoulders than see you suffer.”

She chuckled, and her bright eyes twinkled. “The
man hasn’t been born who could stand the birthing of a babe. God knew that and, in His wisdom, left the task to women.”

There was a gentle rap at the door, and at Gloriana’s summons, the Lady Elaina entered. “The wet nurse is here,” she said. “Shall I take Aric to her now, before he starts to howl again?”

Gloriana smiled and nodded, though she parted hesitantly with their son, Dane noticed. In a few days, she had explained earlier, her own milk would come in, and she would feed the child herself, having read something in one of her modern, secret books about a process called bonding.

She patted the mattress beside her, and Dane stretched out on the coverlet, taking care not to jostle her, gathering her tenderly into his arms.

“I ofttimes wonder, my lady wife, why God saw fit to favor me with one such as you. Surely I am undeserving.”

Gloriana kissed his forehead, much as she had kissed the babe’s minutes before, and Dane reveled in her gentleness. Although he would not have admitted the fact, there was in him a little boy who loved to be coddled and caressed and might in some wise be ever so slightly jealous of the son he already adored, were it not for these private times with Gloriana. The man in him preferred her lovemakmg, of course, but it would be a while before she was ready to receive him again, and he did not mind.

He felt her frown against his temple, rather than saw it, and raised his head to look into her face. “What troubles you, Gloriana?” he asked.

“Will you take a mistress, now that I have given you an heir?”

Dane hoisted himself onto one elbow, stunned and
a little insulted. “What sort of question is that?” he countered. “Have I not told you a thousand, nay a million, times that I love you more than my own life?”

She gazed at him fearlessly, but there were tears in her eyes. “Gareth keeps his Annabel, in the cottage by the lake, and no man ever loved a woman more than he loves Elaina.”

“Gareth reveres Elaina the way a saint does God, not as a husband cherishes a wife. I will not be untrue to you, Gloriana. I swear that on the heart of our first child and all those to come.”

She sighed and snuggled closer to him, and was soon asleep.

He lay, holding his wife in his arms, until she awakened many hours later, for he did not want her to open her eyes and find him gone.

Gloriana smiled at him, and he kissed her softly on the mouth.

“You didn’t leave me,” she said.

“I won’t,” he promised. “Not ever.”

Aric was eight weeks old when Gloriana had his cradle moved from the tower room to a nursery, there to be attended by the faithful Judith and the experienced wet nurse from the village, Ilsa.

Dane was out hunting that day, with Merrymont and Edward and some of his men-at-arms, and the weather was sunny and fine. Gloriana meant to use the time well, for her husband would return before vespers, and she wanted eveything to be in readiness when he arrived.

With the help of the kitchen servants, she swept the chamber and covered the floor with fresh, fragrant rushes. The mattress was emptied and filled with fresh ticking, sprinkled through with herbs, and all the
lamps were polished and filled. The bed linens were replaced, and wood was laid for a fire.

Twilight was near when the bathtub was brought up from the kitchen and filled to brimming with hot, scented water. A meal of cold meats and succulent cheeses and fruits was arrayed on the table in the center of the room, where Gloriana and Dane often played chess.

Finally, Gloriana sent all the servants away and stripped to her linen chemise. Her hair, brushed to the brightness of copper, fell free around her shoulders, the way Dane liked it.

She heard his footsteps on the stairs to the tower room and felt the familiar thrill in the center of her heart. Her breath stopped in her throat when he entered and paused on the threshold, instantly guessing the meaning of the many changes in the chamber since morning.

He set his sword aside, then closed the door, gazing at Gloriana in a way that made her feel as beautiful as any of the old goddesses. Beneath the thin cloth of her shift, her nipples hardened in anticipation of nourishing a man instead of an infant.

“I’ve made a bath for you, milord,” she said, with a slight inclination of her head. It was a motion of both obedience and pride, for although no man would ever be her master, she knew great joy in serving this particular one.

“And I am sore in need of one, I fear,” Dane said, in a husky voice. “That and much more, milady.”

Gloriana crossed the scented rushes to her husband, since he seemed incapable of moving, and unfastened his sword belt. That done, she removed his tunic, pulling it off over his head, and spent a few delicious
moments running her hands over his scarred and perfect chest before loosing the ties of his breeches.

“I have missed you,” he whispered.

“Here is proof of that,” Gloriana said, closing one hand hard around his erection.

Dane groaned as she ran her thumb round and round over the moist tip.

“But first your bath.” She spoke lightly, and released him, eliciting another groan.

He was quite docile as they crossed the room, but once he’d stepped over the edge of the copper tub into the water, all that changed. “You will join me, lady wife,” he said, and, taking Gloriana by the waist, brought her to stand facing him in the bath.

His kiss sent warm honey flowing through her, followed by wildfire, and she sagged a little against his chest, as starved for him as he was for her. They dropped to their knees simultaneously, the kiss unbroken until Dane drew back to drag the sodden chemise off over Gloriana’s head and throw it aside.

He nibbled at her earlobes, her neck, her breasts, making her wet and wringing soft cries from her. All the while, however, Gloriana held her own, washing his pulsing staff with sweet soap, preparing Kenbrook for a conquering.

“I cannot wait for you, my love,” he rasped as she rinsed him, making a delightful torment of every motion, every splash.

“But you must,” she replied, and bent to her husband, taking him full into her mouth.

Dane gave a low, hoarse cry of mingled protest and pleasure, and Gloriana felt restraint in his hands as they came to rest on either side of her head. Triumph, as well as passion, swept through the mistress of Kenbrook Hall as she pleasured her husband.

She had meant to be relentless, but finally Dane put a halt to her ministerings, gasping for breath before he spoke. Expertly, he touched her in that most private and womanly of places, and found her ready for him.

“I pray you, lady,” he pleaded. “Do not make me wait.”

“I can wait no longer myself, milord,” Gloriana replied.

Dane grasped Gloriana’s hips in powerful hands and raised out of the water, impaling her on the tip of his shaft. Their eyes met in unspoken communion before he lowered her onto him, forcefully and yet without haste.

At first, they moved slowly, setting a rhythm, their bodies slick with water, meeting with a soft, smacking sound as Dane sheathed and unsheathed himself within her.

Gloriana was transported; she had yearned for this reunion with mind and soul as well as body, and as Dane claimed her, she leaned back in his embrace, in utter submission. He tongued the hard points of her full breasts, and their pace increased, by increments, until water splashed over the sides of the tub and the graceful joining turned fierce and primitive.

Dane and Gloriana reached the point of ultimate satisfaction at exactly the same moment, and fell into each other’s arms, trembling in its aftermath. When at last she could speak, Gloriana raised her face to her husband.

“I love you, Dane St. Gregory, in this time and all others.”

He kissed her. “And I you,” he replied.

And they are together still.

Proof-of-Purchase

Linda Lael Miller

K
NIGHTS

POP

LINDA LAEL MILLER
has written more than twenty novels, including the
New York Times
bestsellers
Princess Annie, The Legacy, Yankee Wife,
and
Daniel’s Bride
. With almost six million copies of her books in print, she is considered to be among the finest romance authors writing today. Ms. Miller resides in the Seattle area, where she is at work on her third time-travel romance,
My Outlaw
.