Lady Trent (33 page)

He raised a hand to the side of her face and
smoothed it down her hair, afterward taking a lock and sliding it
over her shoulders so that it covered her naked breast.

“Would it not please you as well?” She asked
him.

“Of course,” he breathlessly answered. He
pulled her to him and kissed her slow and gently and deeply. He
held her even closer, and she was sure he would begin to make love
to her at once.

But he pulled her away, and did not act
swiftly. “This you are sure of.”

“Yes,” she assured, “with everything inside
of me, Jacob, I am.”

“Isn’t it your wish to be pure and untouched
after I—“

“—please, Jacob, let’s not speak of it. Not
of your death. Not of my virtue, or even the keeping of it for the
sake of my calling or of my honor in the case I wish to remarry. I
do not care for any of those things, to think of them, not of my
calling let alone remarrying, for I know now with everything inside
of me that I will not love a man like this. I would not wish to be
with any other. Only you.”

He pressed a palm against the side of her
face, spreading his fingers through her hair, stroking her ear. “I
would rather have you as you are than to have you hate me in the
end.”

“I will not,” she said to him. “I promise.”
And he could see so in her eyes that she truly meant what she was
saying.

He placed his hands to either side of her
face. He kissed her. And she fell into him, allowing him to lower
her onto the bed. And she was made love to for the first time by
this man, her husband, whom she did love with all her heart.

It was a beautiful experience, unlike
anything she’d imagined. He was gentle with her, arousing passions
that she did not know existed, ones that enveloped them, and
shadowed over them, seeping inside and radiating, making them as
one. She gave in to him completely, sometimes startled by her
arousal and his touches, how very pleasurable. So perfect, so pure.
How could anyone denounce such a thing? How had she?

His caresses were tender but fervent. He
stroked and embraced every inch of her body, exploring her gently
but zealously, with his hands and his gentle strokes, with his
lips, closing them over her naked flesh, exploring her body so that
she quivered beneath his every touch. She could hear the sound of
their breathing, uneven and harsh at times. And the sound of her
name as he whispered, “Rachel, my dear Rachel.”

Control. She’d had so much of it, yet here
she was drowning, losing her mind and all control of herself. She
was lost now in him, in this union that was meant to be in the
first place, that was completely correct and innocent.

He dropped kisses on her temple and her face
and her lips. “Make me this promise,” he said hovering above her,
his hands to either side of her, his manhood which she’d before
noted, so strong and large, resting upon her most private place of
all.

Thru hazy, desirous eyes she studied him. She
could barely breathe. She could barely speak. “What is it?” She
managed to whisper, raising her hands to his strong shoulders.

He swept his lips over hers, and she would
have returned the kiss. He pulled away, stroking her hair with the
tips of his fingers. “Promise me this, my dear Rachel, that you
will not despise me or hate me.” Again he kissed her and pulled
away, staring her deeply in the eyes with an intense, desirous
stare, a dark stare…a lustful stare. “Promise me again.”

“I promise,” she whispered to him. “I will
love you and cherish you as always, and again and again, Jacob. I
will not stop, I promise it. I will not hate you or myself.”

Hearing this, he kissed her lips and said
quietly, “As you have not been taken, you may feel pain. This pain
I do not wish to cause you.”

“I am already in pain.”

“This,” he began, and stopped…saying nothing
more.

“Jacob,” she whispered, having this urge to
lift herself to him.

Her legs were parted, and his manhood hard
against her. He rose above her, staring down upon her face, and he
pushed himself against her, so that she felt he would enter her,
but he had not. Her chest rose and fell, and their eyes stayed
together. He watched her closely, and she him. She yet felt that
urge to lift herself to him, but did not. He pushed again. A breath
caught in her throat, for she felt him begin to enter her, and then
a thrust…there was a sharp pain that coursed through her body. She
trembled, a breath catching in her throat. He dropped a kiss on her
lips, telling her, “I am sorry.”

But the pain was gone so quick as it’d come.
It was finished. Her virtue was lost, gone forever…lost to the man
she loved.

She rose up and kissed his lips, dropping her
head back, her voice quivering as the desire to be completely
united consumed her. She almost smiled at him as she said, “It is
well, Jacob. It is well.”

And he joined them together with his gentle
thrusts…yes, thrust after thrust, together as one, consummating
their marriage and their vows.

But he retreated.

She lifted her hips to him, telling him also
with her voice to please not stop, to finish it—to rid her of the
torment she had carried about; it seemed years.

And he joined them together again, taking her
hair in his hands, burying his face in it, and his thrusts became
deeper and stronger so that she could hardly withstand them, rather
the pleasure of this. A breath caught in her lungs as ripples of
overwhelming sensations coursed thru her body. She panted and cried
out, even saying his name as her entire body was consumed with
pleasure. His breath, too, came out harsh and uneven, and he raised
himself up to see her face, to run a thumb along her lower lips,
watching until he could no longer keep his eyes opened. She, too,
watched while his body shook with pleasure. Every tremble, every
quiver of the breath and voice when he spilled his seed inside her,
saying her name in a way she had never heard it said before.

And it was finished.

They lay in silence for a time, until he rose
up to look at her, such love and pleasure in his eyes, such hope
and happiness…these things were also quite visible in her own.

He dropped a kiss on her temple, on her
shoulder and her lips.

“My Rachel,” he quietly claimed.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Yours. I am yours, Jacob,
and I’ll love you till death and beyond.”

They dozed off for a time, only to awaken,
making love even in their sleep, and again they did make love,
joining together a second time. Again, they felt the piercing,
overpowering, awe-inspiring climax of their lovemaking. Again, and
she imagined again and again and again.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The sound of hooves hitting the ground
interrupted the serenity of the marketplace. People stopped to
stare while several men on horseback passed by, one in front
leading the way…Marcus, returning to the palace with a handful of
men.

“Sir Marcus.” Byron had ridden up alongside
him, and spoke so that nobody else could hear. “Will you mention
the maiden?”

“No,” he abruptly replied, “and neither
should you. None of these are aware. The emperor asks it be kept
secret.”

Yes, he was returning from a journey into the
Northern Isles and from the Commons where he’d visited the emperor
and discussed the situation concerning Victor’s sudden appearance
in Orland, and Roselyn whom yet remained detained under the
guardianship of the emperor and his guards. Marcus had sent a
message along with the guards who had done as instructed, and
transferred her secretly, telling nobody of their mission or even
of their whereabouts.

She had been questioned. Victor had as well.
Soon after, according to one of Marcus’s own spies, the man had
fled into Roark. Even upon making this known, Roselyn would not
speak. Not even a yea or nay. After so many weeks of imprisonment,
she had turned cold, refusing to speak at all, and claimed she
would die a silent victim.

Despite it all, Marcus had also called upon
skilled builders to travel to his place in the Southern Plains to
join those he’d originally hired to see to it the construction of
his manor house was properly and speedily conducted. With one he
also sent a message so as to avoid any confusion or conflict,
telling them to welcome the newcomers, to work together, and
promising them a very hefty wage.

There were also other matters, ones he never
spoke of to anyone other than those involved, and they were many.
There was one in charge of this secret mission which had gone on
for many years, one that he would not part his lips, only to the
one…the trustworthy man named Galivar who’d been overseeing the
secret mission for several years now.

Before the palace they all dismounted their
horses, which were immediately taken away by Linus and his helpers.
Those with him went their separate way to the quarters meant for
such men as them alongside the palace where they would bathe, eat
and rest. Marcus made his way inside, the guards simply greeting
him as he passed by.

There was one issue he wished to discuss with
Jacob, so he went in search of him. He luckily came across Percival
who adequately kept up with the whereabouts of everyone in the
palace—especially Jacob.

“Is he here or away tending to another
matter?”

“He is here, sir, but does not wish to be
disturbed.”

“Is he well?”

“Yes, he, um…” He stopped, seeming a whole
lot uncertain. Marcus watched while a blush gradually spread across
his face. “He is, um, simply not to be disturbed, sir.”

Marcus stared intently upon him before
turning away and taking the direction of his private quarters.
Suddenly things he’d once meditated upon, that he’d tucked back to
some safe place in his mind resurfaced. Percival’s words repeated
themselves, and his expression resurfaced. Marcus could see as if
the man was still standing there directly before him.

He came across a lone spinster whom was going
about her way with a basket of clothing or material, he could not
tell which…and it truly did not matter.

“Summon the maiden,” he told her, “Zaria, to
prepare my bath.”

She nodded quickly once and again, shyly and
hardly looking at him. Having made the demand he made his way
inside his quarters, slamming the door behind him, and yanking
everything he carried with him away recalling those words,
recalling the blushing of Percival’s cheeks. Something he could not
recall having ever witnessed in the many years he’d known the
man.

******

The days that passed after that first night
were very wonderful, exotic and satisfying. Rachel had never felt
so alive and happy and, well, womanly in all her life. That first
night repeated itself…in the morning, the day, evening—didn’t
matter. She had not a clue the extent of lovemaking. Jacob
certainly revealed to her a world she had not imagined, a part of
her she had not known existed, nor would have been possible without
him. With each time they made love, she felt all the freer to
expose and express her own desires, and to react upon them in any
way she wished. It was a beautiful thing, which she now regretted
having put off for so long. There’d been no point. It would have
been well all along. But perhaps she’d needed that space of time to
adapt even to the simple feelings of love and attraction prior the
event of their actual consummation.

She and Jacob were now lovers, peering at one
another over the rims of glasses and the heads of people, across
rooms and side by side as he sat the one day of the week to judge
the matters of his realm, and the cases of numerous many prisoners
that’d been left ignored over the weeks. He would occasionally pat
her on the behind in passing, secretly so as to not make a
spectacle, and she found herself doing the same on an occasion,
surprising even herself. This was certainly an exciting phase of
her life, having this intimacy with the man she loved, Jacob, who
was an exceptional lover at that.

Now, Zaria was quite the observant young
damsel. She quickly noticed the difference in the two of
them—utmost her mistress, and being outspoken as she was did not
hesitate to mention it one day while Rachel prepared herself to
stand in while Jacob dubbed a mature squire, knight. This was an
occasion to not take lightly, she’d come to learn. It was taken as
seriously as that of having one take the Sacred Vows. She supposed
it was well. After all, these were the young men who would go on to
secure the peace and safety of their land, those who would become
nobles or guards, soldiers and troops. These were those who
protected the land from opposing armies and enemies, who even
intimidated other countries from overstepping their boundaries and
daring to attempt overthrowing the emperor.

Zaria was humming quietly to herself while
Rachel slipped into her full gown. While the maiden began fastening
the back of it, she said, “Was I not correct in saying Lord Trent
would be an exceptional lover?”

Rachel did not scold her this time. She
simply smiled. “He is a magnificent lover,” she agreed. “How were
you so sure of it?”

“He does have this way about him that makes
one think so. Also you must remember, milady, I have been in
service here over three years now. During the time he was not wed,
well, he was known to bed a damsel on occasion, some of whom could
not keep quiet about the goings-on in the bedchamber. Such things
are usually not discussed amongst the palace maidens. Only some I
imagine were compelled by pride.”

This idea of him doing the exact things he
had done with her with any other woman placed some heavy, eerie
stone in her heart. She could feel it weighing her down. Jealousy?
Of course. But why? Such things were in the past and had nothing to
do with her.