Spring's Fury (22 page)

"She'll strike if you touch her," Thomas said to him, struggling to speak clearly as he rocked on his bench. "She's deadly, you know."

"Aye, that I do," Gilliam said, removing the man's hand from his arm.

He started through the crowd now clustered behind his table, his gaze never leaving Nicola. She turned slowly, looking around her with eyes that did not seem to see, and moved toward the food-laden table. Gilliam knew without doubt she meant to tip it.

"Move aside," he said, yet hampered by the crush of villagers. He broke free and strode swiftly for her as she took hold of the table's edge. "Cease, Nicola." He made his voice hard with command, hoping to rouse her.

The reeve laughed. "Her name's not Nicola, 'tis Colette, my lord."

The tabletop tilted. "Cease this instant, Colette," Gilliam bellowed from behind her, his hands gently on her arms, ready to stop her if she did not comply.

The tabletop clattered back onto its braces, stews sloshing and trays rattling. Nicola turned so swiftly that Gilliam stepped back in reaction, losing his grip on her arms. The folk in the room gasped as one.

She struck out, but he caught her fist. She raised the other, his hand closed around it. Gilliam forced her arms down at her sides. With her hands contained the blankness in her eyes receded just enough to show him what she hid beneath it.

"Ah, Colette, does it hurt you so much?"

She drew a deep and trembling breath. Her face was yet pale, but his Nicola returned. Gilliam released her hands. His wife kept her gaze locked on him. Just now, her eyes were a deep green. He combed his fingers through her hair then moved his thumbs on her temples in a gentle caress. Nicola leaned her head into one of his palms.

"Spill your grief on me, my sweet," he offered quietly. "I will carry what you cannot bear."

She blinked. Her mouth trembled as she spoke. "Gilliam." It was a breath of a whisper. She took a step toward him and rested her brow against his neck, her arms coming around his waist.

Gilliam embraced her. "You need to sleep. Let me put you to bed." When she nodded, he leaned down and caught her beneath her knees, lifting her into his arms. He started toward the door, silent folk easing back out of his path.

At the door, he called to the room, "Please continue your celebration without me."

"That we will, my lord." The reeve's voice rang in the rafters, only to be followed by a loud hiccup, a belch, and a thunk. Ralph by Wood shouted in triumph.

With Nicola still and soft in his arms, Gilliam smiled and exited into the bailey. The same icy wind that soughed and sighed around him had finally driven away the clouds. With the winter solstice so near, the sun was already settling into the gentle bosom of Ashby's rolling hills, leaving a sky stained in grays and purples. The frigid breeze caught in Nicola's curls, setting them to dancing around her cheeks.

Gilliam turned her a little in his arms, trying to shield her from the chill, then wondered why he bothered. Their chamber would be just as cold. Besides being too small, the room lacked the draft for a brazier; there would be no hearth for them until the hall rose. If these last days were any indication of the coming winter's temper, they would soon be forced to retreat to the hall and fire.

He climbed the stairs and fumbled with the latch a moment until he managed the door. The movement seemed to rouse Nicola from whatever place she was in. She made a tiny sound, as if she were just awakening.

Lowering her to sit on the mattress at the bed's foot, he turned back the bedclothes. When he sat beside her, it was to draw her close for warmth's sake. Now he needed to prod her into spilling what festered in her. When she'd done so, he would put her to bed.

He stared out into the small chamber, waiting for her to speak. Twilight was just beginning, but the room was already dim and gray. Shadows marked the unevenly hewn stones in the walls and dulled the bed's brightly colored curtains to a gleaming pewter tone. Even with the window shuttered, a breath of the wind entered, just enough to set the heavy curtains shifting softly on the wooden floor. Still, she said nothing.

Gilliam crooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head so he could look at her. He still had trouble reconciling this pretty girl with the angry virago who had attacked him at the abbey. She was watching him.  The blankness that clung to her expression reflected her battle to subdue whatever it was that hurt her so. He ran his thumb over the soft curve of her cheek.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Nicola shook her head nay, but her arms came around his waist and her head leaned on his shoulder. He rocked her gently. When she shifted slightly, it was to touch her lips against his neck. He started. She moved her mouth from just above his collar to below his ear.

He shuddered in reaction. "Nay, Colette.  It’s tears you need, not this."

Her hand came up his back to his nape, her fingers toying with his hair. "I cannot." It was a whispered cry. "Make me feel what only you can."

Gilliam caught his breath then clenched his teeth against his own need. He released her and eased away. Her hand came to rest on his thigh. Even through his clothing, his flesh burned where it lay. "Nay. You don’t know what you are asking."

She only slid her fingers across the thick, smooth material of his gown until her hand lay atop that part of him that most wanted her. Gilliam groaned and grabbed her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. "Nay," he said, shaking his head.

Dear God, but he wanted to run his fingers through her hair and bring her mouth to his.

Her free hand came to touch his face. She traced the line of his brow, the tip of her finger leaving a trail of heat in its wake as her hand descended over his cheek. A breath shuddered from him. There was not enough strength in him to stop her.

"Cease," he breathed against her hand when her finger outlined his lips.

She again shook her head to refuse his command then leaned toward him to place her mouth on his. It was the reflection of how he had kissed her yesterday. She teased and plied his mouth with small touches of flesh to flesh.  He caught her about the waist and willed his hands to force her from him. Instead, as she struggled to draw her knees up onto the bed, he helped her. Somewhere deep inside him a hunger started. His hands trembled with it.

She knelt on the bed, bracing her hands on his chest. It took only her gentle push, and he eased back into the bolsters. With his hands yet clasped to her waist, he drew her down beside him. She lay half atop him, her leg between his. His body reacted to the thought of what it would be like if there were not so many layers of cloth separating them.

Still, her mouth toyed with his. His need for her made him ache so badly he had trouble catching his breath. Gilliam willed his hands not to leave her waist, just as one drifted down to the curve of her hip, his fingers burying into the softness of her flesh.

Her teeth nipped gently at his lower lip. "Jesu," he breathed against her mouth. "You will regret this, Colette."

"I need you," she murmured as she kissed his ear. Each word was torment, and his spine melted.

She touched her tongue into the cup of his ear, and he was done for. His hands went to his belt, his fingers trembling as he tried to work the tongue from its clasp. Between drink and desire, he was hopelessly clumsy. When he groaned softly in frustration, his wife's hands came over his, strong and sure.

Gilliam let his hands fall to his sides as she opened his belt. He was gasping like a fish out of water, unable to catch his breath. The best he could do was lift his hips when she eased his belt from beneath him. It hit the floor with a rattling clunk.

She eased from the bed and stood at its side. Her belt followed his an instant later, her gowns the moment after. The waning light touched her pale skin, showing him the gentle curve of her hips and the small roundness of her breasts, their nipples as hard with need as he was.

The sight of her slaughtered what little sense remained in him. Gilliam groaned and stood to tear off both gown and shirt as one, rending seams. He tossed them carelessly aside. Her hands were already at the tie of his chausses. He growled and pushed her away, falling back onto the bed to rip off both stockings and shoes. They had barely hit the floor before he caught her to him and fell back onto the bed with her beside him.

Gilliam jerked the bedclothes over the both of them and rolled onto his back, gathering her atop him. His mouth took hers, and she matched his need with her own. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest. There was a fire where her breasts touched him, but there was an inferno where her hip lay against his shaft.

He smoothed his hands down the long line of her waist, then caught her hips and moved her until he felt the soft curls covering her woman's flesh against him. She shifted slightly in reaction to this new sensation, her mouth slashing across his as she buried her fingers in his hair.  Leaving one hand to hold her hips to his, the other crept between them to cover her breast. She lifted slightly to let him touch her. He brushed his thumb across its tip until she tore her mouth from his, panting against what he did to her. It was the sign he wanted. He released her breast, letting his hand slide down between them until he felt her nether lips.

She cried out, arching and lifting above him to let him ease a finger into her. Gilliam shuddered at the warmth and wetness he felt. When she moved against his hand, he groaned in reaction.

Suddenly, she was rolling off of him, her grasp on his shoulders begging him to come atop her. Some-where deep inside, he knew he shouldn’t do this, but she owned him now. He did as she wished and settled atop her, his thighs between hers, his shaft at the entrance to her womb.

She took his mouth, kissing him with the same desire he knew for her. He eased himself into her, just a tiny bit, and felt the barricade of her maidenhead. His hands caught her at the waist as he fought  to move carefully, rather than with the brutal thrust his shaft demanded.

She wrapped her hands around his neck, her fingers combing through his hair. When she drew a soft line down his nape, a great shudder wracked him. He tore his mouth from hers to kiss her cheek, her brow, her ear. Once again, she caressed his nape, this time using her nails. Gilliam cried out as a shock of pure feeling shot through him, demanding that he enter her, right this instant.

"Cease, Colette." It was a breathless whisper.

Again, her nails drew lines on his sensitive nape. "Oh, Jesu, I cannot--Jesu."

It was too late to stop himself. He drove past the constriction until he filled her. Her body closed so tightly around him he moaned against it, incapable of the gentleness he intended. He thrust, and she lifted her hips in reaction, urging him to move again. As if he could have stopped.

Gilliam lost himself to the incredible sensations she stirred in him. Her hands left his nape to clutch him around the back, her legs twined over his. He reached back to lift one of her legs until her calf lay across his hips. She brought the other to join it, her heels goading him into driving even deeper into her. When he did, she cried out, arching beneath him.

He thought he heard himself moaning, but pleasure rendered him deaf and blind. Somewhere, in a deep corner of his mind, he worried he was hurting her, but she made him feel impossibly good. Again, she arched beneath him. He grabbed her by the hips to hold her still and drove himself into her as he filled her with a lifetime’s passion.

The release was so great he was beyond feeling. When it finally ebbed, he lay trembling atop her, every muscle spent. With satisfaction came the return of sanity. Gilliam flinched at the sort of damage, either physical or emotional, he'd done to her.

He lifted himself onto his elbows, meaning to gauge her mood, and Nicola shoved angrily at him. When he rolled onto his back, she leapt from the bed with a cry that was pure rage. His heart breaking, Gilliam stared at the bed's ceiling. May the devil take his soul, but he'd killed all hope for their future.

With a scream of rage at herself Nicola threw herself off the bed. The room's frigid air drove all heat from her. She turned to look at Gilliam. Her husband lay still in the bed's center, staring up at the cloth ceiling above him.

What had she done?

Used him to ease her horror of Alice's death and the demise of her hope to be free of Ashby's destruction, that's what.

Nay, that was only the excuse she'd made, so she could lay with him. Christus! Damn her betraying body!

She stared at the fine line of his profile, working desperately to create some defense against the softness he made in her. Instead, she found herself cherishing the way the corner of his mouth always lifted, as if preparing to smile. Her gaze drifted downward to the powerful lines of his chest.

Dear God, but it had felt wondrous to hold him atop her. Her gaze drifted even lower. It had felt even better to hold him inside her. With every move he made into her, pleasure flowed through her. Even remembering caused the embers of her lust to explode into sudden and potent life. She wanted him again.

"Nay," she whispered, turning her back to him. She would not desire the man who had murdered her father. Closing her eyes tightly, Nicola retrieved her memory of that moment, seeking strength in it. The image came to her with greater clarity than ever before. She heard again the fire's roaring breath as the stink of burning thatch and wood filled her lungs. Gilliam's demand that her father lift his weapon rang in her.

As if she once again lay on the floor watching, Nicola saw the way Papa had strained to raise the heavy blade's tip. This time, she saw how her father had worked to expose his neck to Gilliam's sword, begging for Gilliam's blade to end his life. Her husband had spared her father a far worse death with that single stroke.

"Nay." She abandoned that avenue for another attempt.

Gilliam was the man who had destroyed, then stolen her home. Aye, only to return it to her, promising to rebuild it into a much finer place than it had been. He was the man who had forced her to wed him—then honored her needs. Worse than that, Gilliam thought her beautiful. He desired her for what she knew and who she was, not what she owned. Yet, despite his craving for her, he had begged her not to lay with him, fearing how she might be hurt.

Nicola bowed her head. She wanted to be Gilliam's wife, but how long would it be before this desire of hers turned her into the sort of simpering idiot her father had been? The thought of Papa's foolish fawning over his second wife turned her stomach.

"I won't allow it," she whispered harshly. But how was she to prevent this when she already yearned for him?

Her gaze fell on his belt at her feet. The fool had left his dagger in its sheathe. Quick as a cat, she leaned down and grabbed it out, her hand curling around its awkward hilt. Two steps took her to the bed's side. She glared down at him.

He glanced from her face to the knife she held, then to her face again. There was nothing in his eyes but sadness. Her heart ached at his pain. She crushed her reaction. Slowly, she raised the dagger for the thrust that would finish him.

Gilliam watched the blade rise above him. He fisted his hands into the bedclothes, leaving his chest open to her attack. Nicola's arms would lift no higher. A quirk of worry sapped her strength. He was not going to fight for his life.

"I mean to kill you," she said hoarsely.

"I know," he said quietly. The defeat in his voice tore through her.

"You must fight me!" she cried.

"Why? You hate me. I do not wish to live with your hate." The flatness of his tone pierced her the way she meant his dagger to do to his heart.

"You must fight me to make me stop hating you." Nicola gasped in shock at what she'd said. This was all too confusing to be tolerated. She lowered her arms.

"Can I do that?" The hope in Gilliam's eyes made her heart's ache ease, but panic swiftly followed. She wanted to soothe his hurt and feel his arms around her once again. Life without him would be dull and empty.

"Nay, you cannot! I hate you!" She threw the dagger away from her as she turned and fled into a corner. She pressed her cheek against the hard, cold stone as tears filled her eyes. He owned her body and soul, and she loved him for it.

The ropes bearing the mattress creaked and groaned as Gilliam left the bed. A moment later he put his arms around her, drawing her against his chest. He touched his mouth to her shoulder. The warmth of his body flowed through her, mingling with the heat that his kiss awoke.

"I love you too, my sweet," he murmured.

"I do not love you," she lied through trembling lips. "I tell you I will not do it. It’s bad enough that you are a terrible jackanape, always goading me. Now, you want to leash me like one of your pets."

His laugh was soft and deep. "Would that were true. Perhaps then I would be able to train you to sit and stay as Roia does." He laid his cheek against her head. The silence lengthened between them. "You are wrong, you know.  It’s you who holds my leads."

There was enough sadness in his voice to make her turn in his arms to face him. Pain lingered in his eyes. Needing to soothe him, Nicola lay a hand against his cheek. He gave a breath of a laugh then turned his face to kiss her palm. The caress sent a quiver shooting through her and she took back her hand.

"You have me on my knees, Colette. I cannot bear your hate. I need you to care for me the way you do for this place and those folk." He gestured toward the hall. The muted sounds of revelry floated into the room on the icy breeze. His voice dropped to a whisper. "If you cannot say you love me this day, promise that you will, sometime in the future."

Nicola stared at him then her eyes narrowed in mock disgust. "How dare you put the choice in my hands. You leave me with no option but to declare my love for you."

Gilliam's eyes came to life as he smiled. "God's truth, madam? I shall commit the maneuver to memory, then."

She made a face at him. "I can only pray that this love of mine does not turn me into a weak and foolish woman, all simpers and smiles."

Gilliam's smile widened. "I would hate that. Vow you will never change, Colette."

"Who told you, you could call me Colette?" she said with a scornful lift of her brows. "It’s a private name." He looked startled until she laughed, and added another barb, "Oh, great boar hunter."

He grabbed her to him in an embrace that set her ribs to complaining. "You are teasing me," he bellowed in pleasure.

A moment later, she found herself on the mattress, once more trapped beneath him. "Leave go, you great oaf before you hurt me."

He instantly moved to the side, lifting himself on an elbow to look down at her. There was an expression of deep regret in his face. "I have done enough of that for one day, I think," he said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Nicola asked.

"You," Gilliam replied with a shrug of embarrassment. "I meant to be gentle in our joining, but you kept moving until I could not think."

"What is this? An excuse?" she demanded, fighting to control her laugh. "I would expect as much from Jos, but not you, big man."

He stared in her in surprise.

She grinned in triumph. "What do you know? I've tweaked you twice in less than a quarter hour. I want you to know I am deeply insulted. What do I look like, some weak-kneed woman to cry over a pinch?"

"A pinch?" he retorted, then pushed at her. "Move aside, I would see if you left a mark on the sheets."

Curious herself, she did as he bid. The linens bore no sign of her maidenhead's demise. Nicola stared in shock, then worry. Now he would think she had not come pure to his bed. She grabbed the bedclothes, tearing them back to the bed's foot. Nothing. When she looked at him it was in new panic. "I vow to you, I gave to you what I would give no other man."

Gilliam raked her with a long and scornful look. "Do you expect me to believe that?" he said in a harsh voice then he lifted his brows in amusement. "I know you did. Have a care, little girl. If you want to play at taunts and teases, you'd best be willing to take the blows."

"You!" Nicola shouted, and threw herself at him. He caught her in his arms, his mouth claiming hers. They fell back upon the mattress.

When she shivered it was not against the cold, it was with the way her skin slid across his. Where her breasts touched his chest there was a new and wonderful tingling. She could feel his heart beating, almost against her own. Her hands moved over his shoulders and down, the contours of Gilliam's chest smooth and hairless. Her palms were alive with the feel of him. He moaned and lifted his body to offer her more to touch. There was a quickening deep in her womb.

"Mother of God," she breathed. "I did not know touching a man would feel like this."

Gilliam looked at her, his eyes a clear blue and filled with pleading. "Not any man, just me. I vow I will kill you if you touch any other man." His threat lacked teeth, being broken by a gasp as her hands lowered past his waist.

"Aye, just you, only you," she vowed. "Only you want me. Only you look at me and make heat in me." She leaned forward to run her mouth along his collarbone, then kiss a line up his neck. He shivered, then turned his head to offer her more to touch and groaned when she did so.

Nicola smiled against his throat. To make so powerful a man shiver with a mere touch was a heady thing. The taste of him intoxicated her. Nicola lifted her mouth from beneath his ear and found his lips.

Her husband caught her to him, his kiss ablaze with his need for her. As before, her answer to his desire came roaring through her, and there was room in her for nothing else. She moved her leg slightly and felt proof of his readiness against her thigh. Nicola smiled suddenly. Tilda had always said that if you held a man by his cock, you owned him.

She reached down, curling her hand around Gilliam's shaft. He tore his mouth from hers to groan. She moved her hand, feeling skin soft as silk against her palm. He shifted beneath her, his thigh rising between her legs.

The touch of his leg against her woman's flesh sent a shiver up her spine. His hand enclosed her breast, his thumb toying with its peak as his mouth returned to hers. The quickening in her belly became a low throbbing. With it came an awesome pressure that drove her to move to ease it.

As she shifted on his thigh, pleasure as sharp as a dagger pierced her womb. Nicola cried softly in surprise then shifted again, her hand moving on his shaft as she did so. It was better this time. Gilliam echoed her cry, his own deep voice full of the same wonder she felt.

Knowing she pleased him made it even better. She moved her hand slowly to the base of his shaft, then up again. He arched beneath her and tangled his free hand into her hair, pulling her near to him. When he kissed the spot just behind her ear, her womb softened. The feeling was so intense, she released his shaft and sat up on her knees, his leg yet trapped between hers.

Gilliam freed her breast to sit upright as well. Her hands came to rest against his shoulders. The heat of him drew her forward until her nipples grazed his chest, sending waves of feeling washing through her.

Sitting as she did made her slightly taller than him. Nicola looked down into his face. Even in this low light, his hair gleamed like gold. His eyes were dark with desire, his lips full and soft. She owned him; his expression said so. And, he owned her. Nicola sighed, liking both.

She caught the gleam of his sudden smile before he touched his lips to her collarbone, then lay his mouth against her breast. Nicola struggled to breathe as his lips closed over her nipple, his teeth gently catching the tip of it. Her netherlips grew flushed and swollen at what he did.

"You are making me melt," she cried softly, her voice unsteady with the passion he woke in her. Nicola did not know which she wanted more, to push him away or to draw him close. His laughter rumbled through her.

"Good," he whispered against her sensitive skin, "I am already a puddle at your feet." Once again, his mouth closed over her breast, this time to suckle like a babe.

Nicola gasped in sheer delight. She combed her fingers into his hair, forcing his mouth to stay where it was when he would have drawn away. When he sucked again, she leaned down to kiss the place where his shoulder met his neck. As she had the last time, she drew her nails gently along his nape, up, then down.

He shuddered beneath her, his shaft moving against her leg. When he tore his mouth from her breast, it was to lay his brow against her collarbone. He was shivering. Nicola felt his panting breath against her nipple. Again, she drew her nails along his nape, and smiled when he cried out.

"Jesu," he managed, "stop that. You are destroying me."

When she did it once again, his hand came between her legs, his fingers seeking the place his shaft would soon fill. Even knowing what it would feel like did not stop her moan. Nicola leaned back on her arms, letting him touch her in this most private place. Feelings exploded in her. This was wanting, and she wanted him. It was her turn to tremble.

"Colette," he begged softly.

What he needed, so did she. She straightened, and rested her hands on his shoulders so she could straddle his thighs. Gilliam caught her around her waist, holding her above the part of him her womb now craved.

"I am on fire for you," he breathed, looking up at her. So he was, she could see it in the way color stained his cheeks. "But you must not let me hurt you."

Nicola looked down at him in disdain, then she laughed, almost insulted by his statement. "What am I, some sort of weakling? You cannot hurt me." She lowered herself onto his shaft, once again enjoying the fullness of holding him within her.

"Oh, Jesu, but you feel good," he sighed, easing down onto the mattress. Nicola lay atop him, and Gilliam drew the bedclothes over them. She turned her head, and touched her lips to his neck.

His hand rubbed her back, the movement soothing and not at all what she wanted. Nicola smiled, now knowing how to wring from him what she desired. She raised her hand to caress his nape, then touched her lips to his ear and freed a gentle breath. At the same time, she moved atop him.