Wolf Bride (18 page)

‘Fuck me, Wolf,’ she whispered, and meant it. ‘Shove your cock inside me. Make me yours.’

With a groan of excitement, he pushed forward, and there it was. Inside her at last. Just the swollen head, it seemed, but broad enough to make her gasp. The skin there began to stretch as it slipped another half an inch deeper, but she was surprised to find it was not painful.

Wolf nudged her thighs wider apart, settling himself between her legs, taking his weight on his elbows. He stared down at her, a sudden intense need on his face that was echoed deep in her belly.

‘Yes,’ he managed, and she saw perspiration on his forehead.

He was controlling himself, she realised, trying not to frighten her with the strength of his desire. Then his hips jerked, and she cried out, suddenly uncomfortable.

He closed his eyes, whispering, ‘Only a moment’s pain, remember.’

Eloise bit her lip as he thrust fully inside, not wanting to show him how much it hurt. But her hands had stilled on his shoulders, her body lying stiff beneath him, and she knew from the angry flash in his eyes that he was not fooled.

He withdrew, and she saw a tiny red stain on the green threads in the coverlet.

Her blood.

She stared at it, feeling a little faint and unreal. She was no longer a maid.

He put his mouth down there again. She cried out then in earnest, her whole body taken beyond what it could bear. But his lips did not stop caressing her, his tongue slotting smoothly in and out of the narrow opening where his other, thicker organ had just entered, and soon she felt her belly clench.

‘Oh God!’

‘Yes,’ he told her, his voice muffled against her flesh. ‘Come for me, Eloise.’

She did not need his permission, she thought fiercely; she was already on the edge.

Seconds later, her body exploded in a fit of passion; the small dusty chamber turned black, the walls seeming to shake around them. She cried out strangled words. She did not know what they were, but they made Wolf laugh.

Her rough soldierly husband crawled over her, his body fitting perfectly against hers as though they had been made for each other, their naked limbs tangling together quite naturally. He entered her again, this time thrusting deep and with determination, no longer holding back.

This time there was no pain at his entry, but a wonderful fullness. Her tender flesh ached and contracted about his shaft, squeezing him as her pleasure continued to throb inside. His thrusts pleased and tormented her in equal fashion, filling and emptying her, his dark head thrown back, his own body driving hard towards satisfaction.

Suddenly his face contorted, and he thrust deep, groaning out her name. ‘Eloise!’

Afterwards, she felt the warm, slow seep of his seed escaping but could not seem to move to prevent it. They lay together in a quiet and heavy-limbed contentment, their naked bodies cooling on top of the silk coverlet, both disinclined to speak. Then Eloise heard his breathing slow and deepen, and guessed that Wolf had fallen asleep.

So now it is done. I am his wife indeed, she thought, and eventually allowed herself to fall asleep in his arms.

The sound of footsteps brought Wolf instantly awake. He glanced at Eloise, lying naked and asleep beside him on the bed, and knew he must forestall whoever had come searching for them.

Three strides took him across to the door; he grabbed up his shirt and dagger belt along the way. He dragged the shirt over his head, palmed the dagger, then jerked open the door.

‘Who’s there?’ he asked curtly.

A man turned at the sound of his voice, questing further along the dark corridor. His cap came off when he saw who it was, and he came back, bowing. ‘My lord,’ he stammered. ‘Forgive me, my lord. I am Yates, winter steward here, but was called to the big house for your nuptials, my lord.’

‘So what brought you back in such a hurry?’

‘Your lady’s sister came back from her ride today with Master Beaufort, saying you were visiting here. Master Spears gave me a pony and sent me back at once, to attend to your lordship’s needs.’ Yates hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Wolf’s bare legs and feet. ‘Forgive me that I was not here to welcome you, my lord. Can I fetch you anything?’

‘You came alone?’

‘My wife and children follow in the cart, my lord, with a raised veal pie and a brace of pheasants.’

Wolf smiled. ‘For my supper?’

‘Aye, my lord.’

‘Do you keep wine here, Yates?’

The steward nodded.

‘Then Lady Wolf and I will be glad to dine here tonight. Set out wine, and the meal, and call us when it is ready. While we are dining, your wife can make this chamber more habitable. We need fresh bed linen for the night, and a fire.’

Yates bowed his head, clearly relieved not to be chastised for having abandoned his post. ‘At once, my lord.’

Wolf hesitated, then added lightly, ‘There is no hurry, Yates. My lady sleeps.’

The man smiled then, shyly. ‘Aye, my lord. May I wish you both very happy.’

‘Thank you,’ Wolf replied with an answering grin, then closed the door and trod softly back to the bed.

His bride lay on her side, curled up asleep, the smooth curve of her buttocks like alabaster. He stood a moment, watching her in silence. He had intended to seduce her today, riding out here when he knew the old lodge was likely to be unattended, sending her sister back with Hugh. Yet she had surprised him with her passionate response.

He had anticipated some kind of struggle, perhaps another cold rejection of the kind he had faced on their wedding night. But his instinct that his wife did not find him unattractive had been proved correct. As soon as she was naked in his arms, he had seen the true Eloise, the woman behind the shy bride. She had not been afraid to join him in carnal pleasure, nor to yield up her maidenhead, begging him to make love to her – even against her pride, he had seen that.

And her passionate cries had fired his own pleasure, bringing him too swiftly to his peak.

Wolf had meant to go slowly the first time, to show his bride how such joys could be extended almost indefinitely. But then Eloise had surrendered so fiercely, not lying passively beneath him as he had expected but kissing him back so hard his lip still stung, then tearing at him like a mountain lioness when she climaxed. And yet she had been a virgin, he knew that absolutely.

So he had given in to the heat of the moment and taken his relief. Though what man could have remained unmoved by such a powerful and unexpected response?

He could still feel the liquid pleasure coursing through his body, the tingling aftershocks of his own peak, and felt himself tighten again as he studied her naked sleeping form. He had made love to her, and yet his desire was still as strong as ever. That too was unexpected. He had thought his desire would easily be slaked by the act of possession. Instead, he was growing hard again.

‘What have you done to me?’ he whispered, then fell silent as she stirred, stretching gently on the bed.

Her eyes opened, focusing on his face. ‘My lord?’

‘My lady?’

Eloise gazed at his white shirt, clearly taken aback to see him out of bed and half-dressed, then her eyes widened at the sight of his dagger. She sat up at once, no longer sleepy. ‘What is it? Some kind of trouble?’ She looked about for her abandoned gown. ‘I have a knife on my belt.’

He loved her natural courage, not shrinking from danger but prepared to join him if she must.

‘Leave your dagger where it is, my braveheart,’ Wolf told her. ‘There is no danger to us in this place. I heard a creaking just now, out on the landing. But it was only a servant, come to bring us dinner.’

Eloise stared. ‘How did they know to . . .?’

‘Your sister.’

‘Of course, I should have known.’ His bride frowned at his shirt again, then glanced down covertly at his bare legs, just as the steward had done. Only it seemed a more disconcerting look from her. ‘Are you not cold?’

‘A little,’ he admitted, then climbed onto the bed beside her, ignoring the creaking of the mattress supports. ‘But it will only take a moment to warm me.’

She caught his meaning at once, and he was pleased to see she did not draw away. So he had not done very badly before they fell asleep together.

‘You slept well?’ he asked, stroking the hair back from her forehead.

‘Very.’

‘The sweetest sleep always comes after love.’

‘Is that what it was?’ Her voice was sharp. ‘Love, my lord?’

His eyes met hers drily. So his beautiful bride still had claws, despite the pleasure he had given her.

‘You know a better word for it?’

‘You need an heir,’ she reminded him, not yielding an inch. ‘You told me so yourself. I am no fool, my lord. I thought we had agreed to be honest with each other.’

He remembered their conversation. But only vaguely. That had been before they fucked. He had needed so desperately to be inside her, he would have agreed to anything at that moment. Still, there could be no harm in a marriage where honesty and integrity were the watchwords.

Indeed, an honest union was what he preferred. Only he had some doubts that a woman could ever prefer truth to courtesy.

He took her hand, turning it to kiss her palm. ‘Of course,’ he murmured. ‘And so we shall be. Not love, then. But desire. Naked, honest desire.’

‘For an heir.’

‘For you, Eloise.’ Again, he lifted his gaze to hers. Damn her. Why did she have to question everything? He took a deep breath; told himself to be patient. It was only natural that a new bride should want to understand her husband’s motives, to judge her place in his life. ‘I am a free man, nobody’s puppet. I could have married any pretty maid at court, or any woman in the whole of England who would have me. I chose you, Eloise, because I desired you.’

‘But how is that possible? You had barely seen me before you asked for my father’s consent,’ she pointed out.

Reluctantly, Wolf recalled his earliest glimpse of her as a girl, wild-eyed and unkempt, her clogs muddied, more like a farmer’s lad than the daughter of a gentleman. He had known then, in some part of himself, that she would be his in the future. That the girl with the dirty face was part of his destiny.

The stars must have clashed in the heavens that day, linking them inextricably together just as their bodies had entwined on this bed. Perhaps that was why Margerie had left him for another man, because she had not been meant for him. Perhaps that was why he had found his first union with Eloise so very pleasurable, to the point where he could no longer control himself. Because it had felt like a fated moment.

‘I had seen enough to know we would suit,’ he said shortly, not wishing to go into further detail.

Her eyebrows were raised. Her eyes were cold. She did not believe him.

He let the matter drop. There was no way to explain his instinctive response to her all those years ago, not without sounding like a fool. And right now, he had other things on his mind than a stumbling conversation about long-past events.

‘You’re cold,’ he commented, looking down at her erect nipples.

She drew the coverlet up to hide herself. ‘Are we going to stay the night? Without my maid?’

‘You won’t need a maid tonight.’

‘But my gown . . .’

He bent his head and kissed the blue veins on her wrist. Her pulse beat frantically under his lips, her body suddenly tensed as though poised to run away.

‘What makes you think you will be wearing that gown again?’

Her eyes sparked mischievously. ‘You expect me to sit down to supper unclothed, then? In front of your manservant?’

Wolf’s eyes narrowed on her face. He had not thought as far as sitting down to supper when planning this little excursion. But then he had expected to have his bride all to himself in this empty, lonesome place. He had certainly not anticipated that a servant would appear, offering them wine and victuals.

‘There is a robe in the chest that you could use. And furred slippers. You need not go naked.’

‘And in the morning?’

‘Tomorrow, I shall be your maid and dress you myself.’

‘You, my lord?’

Her amazed expression and tone of disbelief needled him, and he retaliated without thinking. ‘Yes, and why not? It will not be the first time I have helped a lady back into her clothes.’

That had been the wrong thing to say at such a moment.

Colour flared in Eloise’s cheeks, and she swung her bare legs to the floor. There was cool disdain in her voice, and he could have kicked himself when he heard it, for his bride had begun to thaw and now he was back where he started.

‘I do not doubt it, my lord. If you would be so good as to grant me a few moments’ privacy though . . .’ She hesitated, glancing angrily about the chamber. ‘Where . . .?’

He rose smoothly and pointed out the discreet wooden screen behind the bed.

‘Forgive me, my lady.’ He stooped, bundling up the rest of his clothing in his arms. With one careless remark, he had ruined the mood for further lovemaking. ‘I had better see how Yates is progressing with our supper. His wife has accompanied him, I believe. Perhaps I should send her up with a jug of hot water for your hands and face.’