Montbryce Next Generation 01 - Dark Irish Knight (20 page)

Soon they lay side by side, breathless and exhausted. He turned her, spooning her back. She fell asleep to the lilt of the lullaby he crooned.

Baudoin de Montbryce was proud to stand in for his father at the marriage of his sister. It was a bittersweet experience. As heir apparent to the Earldom of Ellesmere, he would one day take his father’s place. It was an awesome responsibility, one he hoped he would be equal to.

Ronan wore a black doublet, leggings and boots. Rhoni’s gown was a stunning red. Baudoin had never really noticed how beautiful his sister was. He concentrated on the details of the ceremony, knowing his mother would question him endlessly. She would be elated to hear how happy Ronan’s people were to welcome Rhoni as their new Mistress.

He eagerly anticipated the moment when he would be asked by the priest to present the dowry token. Rhoni had no idea! Good thing the Mass was being said in Latin. He would have been lost in Irish.

He winked at Ronan as he placed the confirmation of the gift of Alensonne on the silver salver thrust towards him at the appropriate time.

Rhoni blinked as she looked at the salver then enquiringly at Baudoin. He smiled innocently.

The ceremony progressed and soon Ronan was kissing Rhoni. The murmurs from the assembled gathering turned to giggles and cheers as their kiss threatened to set the chapel afire. Baudoin doubted they would stay long with their guests at the banquet.

Ronan watched his wife as she moved from table to table, speaking with guests. She was very different from Mary. He had cared deeply for his first wife, but every part of him craved Rhoni. She was in his heart, and made his spirit sing. He had been gifted with a love that would help him exorcise the ghosts of Lorcan and Fothud MacFintain. At first sight of her, in his delirium he had believed her an angel. It had not been far from the truth.

Rhoni had taken charge of the preparations for the banquet, supervising the plucking and stuffing of pheasants, even assisting with the unpleasant beheading and slicing of eels for the stew.

Ronan had brought down the boar, but it was Rhoni who had painstakingly instructed the cooks on how to prepare and serve the head. Judging by the oohs and aahs, none of his people had ever seen a decorated boar’s head which was half green and half yellow!

But it was the trout that Rhoni obsessed about, and with good reason. Everyone remarked on how delicious it was, and she explained with delight that it was a traditional family recipe handed down for generations from the cook at Montbryce Castle.

His heart swelled with pride. There was no doubt in his mind Rhoni would make a more than capable chatelaine for Túr MacLachlainn.

He vowed to spend his life making this woman happy, protecting her. His gut clenched. Never again would he allow harm to come to his family.

Family! He was anxious to get started on giving Rhoni children. His shaft hardened as he thought of her belly swollen with his child.

He came to his feet, stalked over to his wife, scooped her up and carried her from the Hall, to the jubilant cheers of the assembly.

Ronan had carried her up three flights of steps, but it seemed effortless for him. “You’re light as a feather,” he replied when she protested she was too heavy. She was secretly pleased he insisted on carrying her. His strength reassured her, made her feel safe, cherished.

He kicked open the door. “I want to lift you over the threshold into our new life together.”

She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him, still finding it hard to believe this giant of a man loved her. He was gentle when he touched her, though she felt desire seething through him. Sometimes she caught him gazing at her intently, causing small creatures to swarm around her belly.

“You’re not going to tickle me again, are you?” she teased, her nipples tightening at the prospect.

He grinned as he put her down on the bed. “I can assure you tickling is not what I have in mind.”

She felt like a wanton, filled with an urge to tear off his clothes. She could not keep silent. “Take off your clothes.”

She gasped, clasping a hand to her mouth, then giggled.

Ronan smiled and slowly peeled off his doublet. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”

Rhoni felt her face redden. “I didn’t mean to be so bold. My mouth ran away with itself.”

He brushed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “My hope is your beautiful mouth will become much more wanton as the night progresses.”

A tingle of expectant pleasure rippled from her most intimate place down her thighs to her toes. Ronan braced his knees against the side of the bed and slowly took off his linen shirt. Her mouth fell open. She had seen him from a distance stripped to the waist in the fields helping with the harvest, or shoeing horses in the smithy. She had wanted to lick the sweat from his perfect body.

He held out his hands. “Touch me, Rhoni.”

He pulled her upright and put her hands on his chest. She pressed her fingertips lightly into the hard muscles, then smoothed her palms over the soft black hair that dusted his upper body. She trailed a finger down the thin line from his chest to his navel. “Silky,” she murmured.

She ran her hands up his corded neck and onto his shoulders. He groaned and tore off her veil to lace his fingers in her hair, pulling apart the elaborate arrangement piled on top of her head. The touch of his fingers raking over her scalp sent shivers down her spine. She put her hands back on his chest and rolled her thumbs over his dark male nipples. Her own nipples tightened, straining against the fabric of her gown.

He fixed his gaze on her breasts, cupping them in his big hands. “I have longed to put my hands on you, Rhoni.”

He brushed his thumbs back and forth over her nipples. Wet heat flooded between her legs. He smiled, flaring his nostrils. He had known her nipples had hardened before he touched them. Did he also sense the intimate moisture his caress had caused—and the ache?

He bent to kiss her, drawing her body tightly to his own. His tongue darted in and out of her mouth in a rhythm her hips were soon echoing. They broke apart, both panting for breath. “I want to feel your skin against mine. Let me undress you.”

A growl of encouragement emerged from her dry throat. “Hurry!”

She felt his arousal buck against her belly and his eye darkened. He turned her and unlaced the back of her bodice, pushing it forward over her shoulders and down to her waist. His warm breath teased the fine hairs at her nape as he cupped her bare breasts. She moaned, thrusting her head back against his chest. Tendrils of pleasure wound their way from her nipples to her toes then into her loins. He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. A jolt of desire rocked her. She cried out his name, barely able to breathe.

He nibbled the back of her neck, intensifying the painful pleasure. She tried to turn to face him, to press her aching breasts against his body, but he resisted. “I fear if I look upon your beauty I’ll be lost.”

She arched her back and reached up to entwine her arms around his neck. “I want you to see me.”

He turned her slowly and stared at her breasts, raking his hands through his hair. “
Críost
, Rhoni, you are magnificent.”

His words came from deep in his throat, feral. Like her mother, Rhoni was well endowed, but she had never given much consideration to the effect of large breasts on a man. Suddenly, she was aware of her power as a woman. She cupped her breasts and lifted them in offering. “Kiss me—here.”

During his marriage to Mary, Ronan had come to accept that his wife was not a passionate woman and had learned to temper his lusty nature. He had sensed passion in Rhoni, but when she offered her breasts in trusting surrender, the floodgates of repressed desires and needs burst open. He burned to rip the clothing from his wife and fall upon her like a wild thing.

But he wanted his virgin bride’s first taste of ecstasy to be memorable for its beauty, not its pain. Selfishly, he too wanted the pleasure to last.

He bent his head to suckle one pouting pink nipple, drawing its dusky areola fully into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the hard peak. Rhoni kept one hand under her breast, the other she lay on the back of his head, keening whimpering noises that he felt in his
ghiniúna
.

He shifted to the other nipple, rolling the moistened pebble of the first between his finger and thumb.

“
Dieu
! Ronan, I—” Her voice caught in her throat.

“Hush,
mo stór
. Let me pleasure you.”

She peeled open her thick eyelashes. “This is beyond pleasure,” she rasped.

He grazed her nipple with his teeth. “We’ve only just begun,
mo croí
.”

She gasped. “I’m ready to learn.”

He put his hands at her waist, pushing the gown over her hips. “I’m anxious to teach you.”

The silk whispered against her skin as it fell to the floor, pooling around her feet. She never took her eyes off his face as his gaze travelled the length of her nakedness. His heart was beating too fast. He feared that if she touched him she would be burned. She was so beautifully formed he almost fell to his knees in thanksgiving for this gift that was soon to be his alone.

She put a hand on his shoulder as he helped her kick away the gown. Her heat penetrated his fever. He had to free his shaft from the confines of his leggings before he burst the seams. He quickly unfastened the laces and put her hands on his hips, covering them with his own. “Strip me, Rhoni.”

He pressed her hands over his hips and the leggings slid down his thighs. His hardened manhood sprang free. Rhoni knelt and helped him remove the garment, never taking her eyes off his arousal.

Mary had dutifully suffered the discomfort of his size. Rhoni licked her lips and touched her fingertip to the opening at the end of his aching shaft. “Speaking of magnificent,” she whispered, “are all men’s parts this big?”

It was too much. With a grunt he hauled her to her feet, crushing her soft curves to his hard body. His shaft surged along the wet slit between her legs. He could wait no longer. He raised her up, braced his legs, and impaled her.

She growled his name, locking her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. He felt her maidenhead tear, but could not stop. He bit her neck as she rode him, pumping his hips as her tight channel clenched on him and her thighs gripped him. She cried out and bit him back, a long sound keening from her throat as she neared her release.

“Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.”

He pounded into her, lifting her up and down, feeling the heat build around his shaft as sweat broke out on both their bodies. “Come for me, Rhoni. Come for me.”

Suddenly she dug her fingernails into his shoulders, closed her eyes and held her breath. Her body went rigid. She quivered, inside and out, and the world shattered as she milked the seed from his body.

He may have cried out something slightly obscene as his euphoric release swamped him, but it would have been in Gaelic, so he was not too worried.

Her head lay on his shoulder. “You are my flawless jewel,” he whispered.

She grunted something.

He chuckled. “So much for worrying about the bed. We didn’t get that far!”

She raised her head and looked at him curiously. Her lovely hair was dishevelled, her lips swollen, eyes glazed. She had never looked more beautiful. Her lavender mingled with the musky scent of a woman well bedded. The sight of his teeth marks on her neck stirred new interest in his softening cock.

“Bed?”

“I was worried you would feel uncomfortable in Mary’s bed, or that I would.”

She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. “I did not think of it.”

“Let’s try it out then. My legs are about to give way.”

“You said I was light as a feather.”

He chuckled and climbed onto the bed, still buried deep inside her. They lay belly to belly, breast to chest, his leg curled around hers. She traced a finger down his neck then licked him. Her face reddened. “Did I bite you?”

He touched the bite on her neck. “Aye, but only after I bit you.”

“You bit me? I didn’t feel it. I was too lost in feelings I’ve never experienced before.”

He put his hand on her bottom and kissed her lovingly. “I am proud to be the man to have taken you into a new world, Rhoni. I hope it wasn’t too painful? I felt your maidenhead tear.”

She shrugged lazily. “I honestly don’t remember it. My mother often warned me that riding astride can break a hymen. When I felt no pain, I assumed she was right.”

“No,
mo stór
, you gave me everything this night, as I shared all of myself.”

She drew back, twirling a lock of his hair in her fingers. She touched his eye patch. “
Non
,
mo croí
, there is something you have kept from me.”

He frowned, a snake of dread uncoiling in his gut. He slid from her body and came to his feet beside the bed. “No, Rhoni. Never. I will never subject you to that horror. Even I cannot look upon it.”

Hoping to distract her, he knelt on the bed and parted her legs. “My people will expect to see these bed sheets hoisted up the flagpole on the morrow.”

She nodded with a smile, and he carefully cleansed the swollen lushness of his wife’s most intimate place with the linens, then reluctantly removed the proof of her lost virginity from his body. He sensed she would not be deterred and his heart ached that he was not a whole man. “I am your slave, Rhoni. I will serve you all my life, but do not ask this of me.”