The Princess and the Huntsman (12 page)

“When can we marry, my love?” she asked as they broke their kiss. Her breath was fast, her nipples hard with need.

Tom’s eyes were soft with affection. “We must take the children back to the village this afternoon. Let us find the village priest and say our vows then. Would today suit you, or would you rather have a fine dress and a ribbon for your hair?”

The dress sounded very tempting, but ‘twas an expensive idea. “Can you afford a new dress for me, Tom? I would not like to go to my wedding in this stained and torn raiment.”

“Aye, a new suit of clothes would be within our means. I should have done it beforehand, because now we shall have to wait for it to be sewed. We shall get the fabric and the seamstress can begin as her business will allow. The priest can wait for another day.”

Brandywyn did not want to wait longer. She wanted it today! But she could not go to her wedding, the most important day of her life, in tatters. “Can we hurry it?”

“No. The seamstress will need time. She has no magic wand.”

In the palace, there were seamstress’ assistants to help with the work. A dress could be made very quickly. Not to mention the fact that Brandywyn had many beautiful garments in her wardrobe at home. Much more beautiful than a village seamstress could provide. If only Tom would believe that she was a princess. This entire matter could be settled in but a moment.

“I love you, but…”

“I shall have no ‘buts’ between us. I am a huntsman; I do not have the means for finery at your whim. I offered you a simple dress, but now you appear to want more.”

A shiver of fear coursed over her. “No, Tom. I was wrong and selfish.” Indeed, she was deeply chastened. Her vanity had gotten out of hand. She had lost sight of the more important thing, the thing that made her heart happiest: Tom’s love. Brandywyn threw herself into his arms and cried, frightened beyond words that she had gone too far, tried to manipulate him to the point of no return, to the loss of his love for her. “I am sorry,” she sobbed. “My heart is broken, for I fear I have wronged you grievously.”

He stroked her hair gently and whispered against her forehead. “Do you marry me, plain as we are, and all will be forgiven, for then I shall know that you accept this place in the world and have no more pretensions.”

Brandywyn sniffled as her tears abated. “Aye. I shall go naked and mud-spattered, if it would bring your love back to me.”

“My love never left, sweeting. Had it, I would have taken you directly to the village and left you there.”

“I love you with all of my heart. Much more than the palace or my dresses, jewels, and other finery. Please, may we marry this day, as we hoped before?”

“I am glad to know you love me, Brandywyn, for I love you, too.” He held her away a bit and kissed her lips gently. “Now dry your tears and wash your face. We have a wedding to go to.”

Brandywyn gave him a watery smile and reluctantly left his arms. Nothing mattered so much as her feelings for Tom. She had been a fool to endanger that. No dress, no sensual encounter, no banquet or revel was as important as that. If she never went back to the palace, ‘twould still be a good life, here with Tom in the little cottage in the woods.

Chapter Eight

The children rode the horse, while Tom and Brandywyn trudged along beside it, all the way to the village. It took more than an hour and by the time they arrived, Brandywyn was foot weary and hot. Their first stop was to the meeting house, where the village elders had gathered to consider town business. Tom asked them about the orphans’ welfare, and was told that they were to be housed with the farm couple outside of the village. One of the elders, himself, would transport the children to the farm in his wagon. It looked like all would be well with the tykes, and the children’s faces upon learning of their new home spoke volumes of their relief and excitement. Everyone realized that they longed for a home, but no one knew exactly how much.

Brandywyn was happy for them, but bade them a teary goodbye. She hoped she might see them sometime in the future, for they really had found a place in her heart. Still walking the horse, she and Tom left the elders and walked through the village to the small temple where the priest welcomed worshipers. The little man, bald and dressed in long, bright blue robe, as was appropriate for the honor of his god, looked over Brandywyn with a jaundiced eye.

“Are you sure, Tom Huntsman, that this woman is fit to be your wife? She looks more like a vagrant than a bride.”

Brandywyn felt her middle surge with outrage. If he only knew she was a princess! Falling upon the heels of that thought, inwardly she chided herself. Although she did not deserve the priest’s disapprobation, she did look like a vagrant. Her heart knew the truth, however. She was soon to be Tom’s wife—a place of honor, to her mind. But before the tears of emotion could form in her eyes, Tom came to her defense, bristling visibly. “She is more than my match, sir, she is my mate.”

Sighing, the priest gestured them to the altar, where they knelt beneath a statue depicting the god, fire bolts flying from his fingers and a cornucopia of plenty at his feet. Small offerings of incense, candles, and flowers had been left by worshipers and made the place fragrant and beautiful.

Brandywyn had never been to a village temple before, always worshiping in the palace’s vast cathedral. But this god was one of her pantheon, so she was comfortable saying her vows with him watching over.

“Tom Huntsman,” the priest intoned, “what offering do you make to bring favor upon this union?”

Tom withdrew a small pouch of coins. Brandywyn could hear them clinking as he set it on the altar. “Gold, sir.”

The priest inspected the pouch’s contents and seemed pleased enough. Brandywyn was amazed that Tom had coins so plentiful, and even more astonished that he would offer them to pay for the god’s pleasure. It would have paid for a new dress for her, but he could not pay for both the dress and the wedding. The wedding was far more important. So many coins, though; perhaps his life savings. “But Tom—” she whispered.

He took her hand. “Shh. I know what I do.”

Brandywyn eyed him for a moment, finally turning back to the priest.

“What is your name, girl?”

“I am Brandywyn of… just Brandywyn, sir.”

“Are you orphaned?”

“No, sir,” Tom said, as Brandywyn fumbled for a response. “She had a bad experience and lost her memory for a time. It is coming back.”

“Are you certain she is not already married?”

“I am a virgin,” Brandywyn offered with a blush.

“Ah,” said the priest, satisfied. “In that case, the marriage would be valid.”

Tom squeezed her hand and Brandywyn started to calm.

The priest began chanting, and it took quite a while for him to come to the end of his song. Brandywyn did not understand all that he said, for it was in a commoners’ dialect that she had not been taught, but it sufficed that he did his part and moved on to their vows.

They were simple. “Tom Huntsman, do you agree to partner this woman, to accept her gifts to you with good grace? Do you agree to abide by the laws of the land of Ring to preserve her safety? Do you agree to accept children of your union and nurture them tenderly?”

“Aye, sir, I do accept these things.”

The priest nodded. “And Brandywyn, do you agree to partner this man, to accept his gifts and his teaching, his leadership, throughout the days of your life together? Do you agree to abide by the laws of the land of Ring to cleave only to him? Do you agree to accept children of your union and nurture them tenderly?”

“Aye, sir,” Brandywyn said without hesitation. “I do agree.”

Another nod and the priest touched their foreheads with his thumb. “You are now wed. Cherish this union as a gift from the gods.”

Tom squeezed her hand again and brought her upright with him. It was improper to kiss in the temple, so they hurried outside where he gave her a lingering, deep kiss unlike any other he had bestowed upon her before.

Brandywyn’s body flushed with pleasure and she held him tight, brushing her breasts against his chest, enjoying the feeling of his hard muscles. Her ugly gown mattered not; her lack of adornments was forgotten. There was Tom and Brandywyn and that was enough.

They mounted his horse together and made their way back to the cottage.

Once inside, the door firmly closed, Tom took Brandywyn in his arms again, giving her hair a tug to position her lips where his would meet them. Brandywyn rose on her toes a bit to accommodate the demand on her hair, but no prickles of her scalp could overshadow the deep pleasure she found in Tom’s powerful presence in her arms. He kissed her, gently at first, and then with a demand that Brandywyn met with enthusiasm. His tongue teased hers, teaching her sensual movements that she had not imagined before. All their kisses and gentle touches were nothing to this dominance over her. Her desire for Tom grew.

“Undress,” he told her, releasing his hold on her hair and her body.

Blushing, for what reason she knew not, for he had seen her unclothed before, Brandywyn disrobed. She took her time, watching Tom’s ardor—and the movement of his codpiece—grow apace. Once naked, she felt shy and wanton all at once. Her nipples were hard and puckered and there was a growing wetness between her legs. This was her time together with Tom, a time she had been anticipating, waiting for, for too long.

“Will you undress as well, husband?”

He smiled, and it was a bit wolfish. “I do not need to. I but need to open my codpiece—”

“Tom!”

Laughing, he began to remove his clothing. Brandywyn giggled at his teasing, and watched him with eager eyes. She had seen him unclothed before, as well, as they had taken their turns bathing in the stream. But this was different. As his broad, archer’s chest was revealed, Brandywyn shivered. Those muscled arms would hold her steady as he took his pleasure of her. That narrow waist would give her purchase as she held him close. Those long, strong legs would give him the power to plow her and lay the seed deep.

Tendrils of desire made her squirm where she stood. She wanted him. Brandywyn wanted to feel the real coupling she had only seen once before, and this time, she was not afraid Tom would leave her unsatisfied as Prince Gammon had left the maid. Tom had proved his consideration of her needs that one time they had come together before. Brandywyn did not know quite what to expect of their physical union, but she knew it would be deeply intimate and sweet.

“Come to me, my love.”

Brandywyn needed no further invitation. She ran to Tom and threw her arms around him, hoping for another deep kiss. She was not disappointed, for he drew her hair in his hand again and seared her lips with his own. As he moved away from her mouth, he pressed kisses at the corners, down her chin and further down her throat. Brandywyn moaned with desire and pleasure.

Tom released her hair and ran his fingers down her arms and over her waist. His callused thumbs traced the contours of her ribs and found their way to her breasts. Cupping them, he bent and pressed his lips to her nipples. Brandywyn ran her hands through his dark shaggy hair, pressing his face against her as he nibbled on her nipples one, and then the other. The tendrils in her belly began to unfurl, chilling her and heating her, every inch of her body aching for his touch.

When he rose from his kisses, Brandywyn was bereft, but only for a moment. Tom took her up in his arms and carried her to their bed, laying her gently thereon. He stood there and gazed upon her for a moment, his eyes blazing with desire, his cock proud and ready for her. Brandywyn touched it, at first with hesitation, but soon with eagerness. She gave it a little tug, hoping to lure Tom into the bed with her.

He took her hand away. “Gentle, sweeting, or ‘twill be over before we begin.”

Brandywyn raised her arms. “Please, Tom. Do not tarry.”

“Nay, love, I have need of you also.” With that, he climbed in beside her and drew her into his arms, kissing her fervently. As he turned her on her side, he gave her backside a hearty slap. Brandywyn yelped—her bottom was still a bit sore from her earlier spanking—but somehow, she enjoyed his sharp touch. Her ardor increased.

“Oh! Oh, Tom! Love me, love me, please.”

Tom rolled them over until Brandywyn was on her back, and pressed her knees apart. Pressing his hard cock against her belly at first, he slid down until it rested on the peak of her woman’s place, that place where the nub was throbbing with want and desire. A soft gasp left her, and Tom took some encouragement from it, rubbing his cock over her until she was near to a fever with need.

He pressed his body further up above her and prodded her opening gently. “This might hurt, Brandywyn. I promise ‘twill only hurt the one time. I shall give you pleasure after the ache subsides.”

Wriggling with desire, Brandywyn barely heard him, but she registered what he said. Rumors in the palace had mentioned pain for a virgin, so she was not surprised. She only hoped it would not spoil the pleasure.

“Do not hesitate, Tom,” she whispered. “I am your wife now and would have all that such a union offers.”

His gaze rested on her face for several long moments, assessing her, drawing another moan from her as she writhed beneath him. “Please, Tom.”

Tom’s answer was to slowly penetrate her, carefully fitting himself to her narrow gauge, pressing toward her center with rapt concentration.

Brandywyn opened to him, spreading her knees wider apart and wiggling with the growing feeling of his presence inside her. Eventually, however, he found the barrier. “Do not tense, sweeting,” he suggested. “Relax. ‘Tis natural, what we do.”

“Aye. Aye, Tom.”

He drew back an inch and then thrust mightily. The barrier broke and, despite Tom’s urging, Brandywyn tensed with the pain. It was fullness and ache, erasing the feelings of desire she had had only a moment before.

“Oh!”

Tom lowered himself to his elbows and stroked her hair. “I cry your pardon, sweeting. But it had to be done.”

She nodded, hoping the pain would subside as he promised. They lay there, coupled, for several minutes, while her body relaxed beneath him and around him. Eventually, she felt the desire returning, and the wondrous feeling of him inside her became a joy, not an invasion.