Margaret Moore - [Warrior 13] Read online

  He went to the window, looking out just as she had, then turned and leaned back against the sill. “Are you happy here, Anne?”

  Taken aback by his question, she nevertheless nodded. “Very much.” She managed a smile. “Your parents are just as you described them.”

  “My mother is very impressed with you. She told me so herself.”

  Anne flushed with pleasure.

  Then Reece hoisted himself up to sit on the wide sill, as if he intended to stay for some time.

  Her throat dried, but she told herself not to be ridiculous. He was simply being companionable.

  She, too, sat, on the stool in front of the dressing table. “Your parents seem very happy together. How did they meet?”

  “My father was hired to train Lord Gervais’s men, and she was Lord Gervais’s foster daughter. The first day my father was here, she threw a honeycomb at him.”

  Anne’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  He smiled with undisguised amusement. “Really. It hit him in the face.”

  She could imagine a youthful and more tempestuous Lady Fritha throwing something, if she were upset enough. But to throw anything at Sir Urien… “Why did she do that?”

  “He said something insolent and she took exception. He maintains that, given that she was attired like a serving wench, his mistake was only natural. She says he shouldn’t have said that to a serving wench, either.”

  “What exactly did he say?”

  Reece chuckled, a low, deep and very pleasant sound. “They’ve never actually told me.”

  “It sounds a little like the way we met, except for the honeycomb,” she noted. “I might have thrown one at you when you approached me in the king’s corridor, had I had one handy.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  He rose and came toward her. His expression shifted. His eyes darkened and his gaze intensified in a way that sent spirals of desire furling through her. “I am happy here, too, Anne, in this room. With you. I am happy having you in my home,” he said, his low, husky voice adding to her excitement.

  Rising, she could scarcely draw breath. All the reasons for wanting him—a better future for her and Piers, safety from Damon and his threats—melted away, except one. She wanted him because he was Reece, and he made her feel as no man ever had, or probably would again. No man had ever stirred her desire, and her heart, as he did.

  “Anne,” he murmured, his voice a husky purr of query as she laid her hands on his broad, firm chest, the muscles hard beneath her palms. “I would have you here always. I would have you for my wife. In every way.”

  Her gaze anxiously searched his serious face, only to realize, without doubt, that he was absolutely sincere.

  Even then, she could scarcely believe it. “You want me for your wife? What of Damon and Benedict and your plans for court?”

  As he looked down into her eyes, his own blazed with desire and more, a look of such need and such longing, her own seemed a paltry portion compared to what he felt.

  “You are not a Delasaine anymore, Anne. You are a Fitzroy. The king and our vows before God have made it so in one way, and tonight I would confirm it, if you are willing.”

  “Willing?” she cried, all her fears and doubts and worries shattered by his words, becoming rubble out of which her hope leapt into vibrant life. “I have never been more willing for anything in my life!”

  To confirm her words, she raised herself on her toes, pressed her body against his and captured his mouth in a fervent kiss.

  He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. “I will have you for my wife, by God, and I will let no fears for the future stop me.”

  He joined her on the bed and gathered her into his arms. Again his mouth met hers and she moved against him as excitement and happiness swamped every other feeling. He wanted her! She could be his wife! She could stay here and be happy and—

  His hand caressed her breast, the unexpected stroke taking her by surprise. But only for an instant, for the surprise soon altered to one of aroused bliss as his hands continued to seek and touch, and his tongue slipped inside her mouth to tease and twine about hers.

  Nothing had ever made her feel so desired. Nothing had ever inspired such desire within her. It was as if she had waited her whole life to feel this way, overpowered by the sensations and excitement that built with each light touch and brush of his fingertips.

  He laid her on her back. Still kissing her, his fingers fumbled with the lacing of her bodice behind her neck. He wanted to get her dress off.

  Of course. And she would have him naked, too. At once, she struggled to untie the lacing of his tunic. She succeeded before he did. “Take it off,” she commanded, pushing him back so that she could sit up.

  He stared at her a moment, his eyes dark with desire, and dumbfounded. “Take off your tunic,” she ordered, “and I shall rid myself of my gown.”

  His smile was devilment itself.

  His tunic was off in an instant and his shirt landed on the floor. Before she had finished lifting her gown over her head, his breeches and stockings and boots had joined the pile.

  He grabbed her gown and yanked it off, then tossed it on the floor, too.

  She held her breath as he studied her in the candlelight. All she wore was the thinnest white silk shift. He wore nothing at all, and as he looked at her, she reveled in the sight of his powerful warrior’s body displayed before her.

  “I have imagined this a thousand times,” he whispered, raising his eyes to her face.

  “As have I,” she confessed.

  With another smile that quickly gave way to blatant desire, he lay beside her on the bed and put his hand flat upon her collarbone, then, with agonizing leisure, moved it lower over her silk shift. “Very nice.”

  “My body or the shift?” she murmured, doing her best not to squirm, because she didn’t want him to stop.

  “Both, your body more, though.”

  Hooking one arm around him to steady herself, she copied his action, letting her palm glide over his naked shoulders, chest and hip. “You have lovely muscles.”

  “What you have are lovely, too.” He leaned down and kissed her breast through the thin fabric. He found her nipple and lightly flicked his tongue across it. That felt even better than his hand.

  Would it feel so for him, too?

  She raised herself more and pressed her lips to his chest. With slow deliberation, she slid her mouth across his muscles until she felt the dark hairs around his nipple. Then she lightly stroked it with her tongue.

  His sharp intake of breath told her it was as good for him.

  A rush of satisfaction swept over her and she continued her exploration with her lips and tongue as he continued to stroke and caress.

  His fingers trailed along her leg, lifting her shift, and new tendrils of desire furled and stretched and reached. Instinctively she parted her legs, and when his fingers went still higher, she did not resist. She eagerly moved her hand lower and touched the evidence that he was as ready and willing as she.

  She lay back, pulling him with her. Her mouth claimed his again, more demanding now, and fervent.

  If she had known the feelings and sensations he was asking her to forgo when he had suggested his plan, if she had possessed a better understanding of what making love with Reece would be like, she would never have agreed.

  His hand pressed upon her where she was moist and swollen with anticipation. His gaze locked on to hers, powerful and certain. “You are ready for me, Anne but it may hurt a little.”

  “I don’t care. I want you within me.”

  His eyes flared in the candlelight and his lips curved up slowly as he positioned himself. “I want to be there, too. I want to be your husband.”

  Husband. Never had the word sounded better.

  That was her last thought as he leaned down to kiss her and gently pushed inside. There was a moment’s resistance, a fleeting pain, dispelled by the sheer pleasure of holding him within
her as they became united beyond the bonds of law, flesh of one flesh, forever.

  As the excitement built, she threw her arms around him and pulled him close, telling him the pain was nothing. Unimportant. Forgotten.

  He rocked forward, thrusting a little deeper, the sensation making her moan, her lips against his chest. Then deeper still, and deeper, each thrust more powerful than the one before.

  Carried along on the waves of desire, she held tight to him, her hips instinctively bucking.

  With one swift yank he tore her shift so that her breasts were exposed. She didn’t care as he licked and kissed and pleasured, and the tension built still more.

  Suddenly it erupted, shattered and splintered as a groan rumbled from his throat. Incredible waves of sensation rocked her, then drifted away as his thrusts gentled and eventually ceased.

  Panting, he pulled away and lay beside her. As he slipped his arm beneath her, she rolled so that she was nestled against his shoulder.

  He gently brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I have been a fool, Anne. Can you forgive me?”

  Still enveloped in the bliss of their passion, she gave him a warm, lazy smile. “After that, I believe I could forgive you anything.”

  His eyes lit up with delightful merriment. “Ah, be careful, wife! You may be telling me more than you should. If I displease you, all I will have to do to avoid a scolding is this,” he murmured, proceeding to demonstrate, “and this…and this…”

  She cupped and raised his face from her breasts, which still tingled from his attentions. “That may work, I grant you. But I believe that what works for the mistress may also work for the master. For instance, if I want you to agree to some household expense you do not consider necessary, all I may have to do is this…and this…and this…”

  He moaned, then grabbed her hand. “By the saints, you could be right.”

  “Could be? I would say, definitely.”

  He chuckled. “We could spend a great deal of time trying to outmaneuver one another.”

  “I can think of less interesting ways to spend my time.”

  He rolled so that he was on top of her, his arms braced beside her head so that his weight was not upon her. “I had no idea you thought this way.”

  She giggled, happy as she had never been in all her life. “Neither did I, but I quite enjoy it. Had you not better blow out the candles? We may set the room alight.”

  “I believe we already have,” he purred, caressing her cheek. Warmed by his words and his touch, she watched while he did as she suggested. The flickering light make his taut, naked flesh glow, and she delighted in the smooth ripple of his muscles as he moved. He was, quite simply, as magnificent a man as God had ever made.

  Not just for his face and form, though. He was a good, honest, honorable man.

  When he finished, they were cloaked by the intimate darkness.

  “Now, my wife,” he said softly as he got back into bed. “I can think of a few more things you might discover you enjoy.”

  “Already?”

  “Different things.”

  “There are several?”

  “Yes, and we have already wasted a good deal of time.”

  “Then you had better start showing me.”

  And so he did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Anne stirred when she felt the draft of cool air as Reece lifted the sheet. Still half-asleep, she rolled and groped for him. “What are you doing? It’s still dark.”

  He cursed as he tripped over something. “I think I’ve torn your shift some more.”

  “Then come back to bed before you hurt yourself.”

  “I can’t. It’s nearly dawn.”

  Her eyes adjusting to the dimness, she winced as he banged his hip into her dressing table.

  He found his breeches and pulled them on. “I do not regret what we have done for a moment, but my father thinks as I did, that our marriage is a serious error. It would be best if I could explain what has happened to him myself. Nobody likes being blind-sided. I don’t want him hearing that we spent the night together from Lisette or one of the other servants. Seldon might make some comment about being alone in his chamber, too.”

  He cursed again.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Father wants to do lances today. He’s always surly when we do lances. It’s the hardest thing to learn, so the lads make a lot of mistakes and sometimes hurt themselves. Maybe I should wait until tomorrow.”

  She wasn’t pleased by the delay. “I have already waited too long for you, my love. I want to be with you tonight, too.”

  “I don’t see any reason I can’t be with you again if I use the secret passage,” he said as he pressed a light kiss on her brow. “I owe it to my father to tell him first, and I really think it would be best to wait until an auspicious moment to let him know my excellent plan has fallen by the wayside.”

  “As long as it won’t be more than a day or two, Reece. I want all the world to know how I feel about you.”

  He brushed his lips across hers again. “And I, you. I don’t want to have to pretend anymore, either, so I will tell him tomorrow at the latest, whatever mood he is in.”

  Another kiss, and he left the room.

  As the door closed, Anne nestled down under the covers and sighed. Although she wished Reece would tell his father about the change in their relationship immediately, he knew Sir Urien best, so she would accept the wisdom of his decision. Besides, he had promised not to wait beyond tomorrow. Surely she could endure keeping her love for her husband hidden for one more day.

  Her love. For her husband.

  She was Reece’s wife, safe and secure and loved. Damon had no more hold over her, for Reece would keep Piers safe, too.

  She sat up and hugged her knees as she thought of what she must do this day. She had to go into the village, find Benedict and tell him she would no longer be Damon’s spy.

  She contemplated telling Reece of Damon’s plan and Benedict’s likely presence in the village, then decided against it. There was already enough enmity between them and Reece knew full well that he must beware of Damon. Once Benedict knew that she would not obey, he would not linger, but surely go running back to Damon without delay.

  She was finally free of her half brothers, and so was Piers.

  She got out of bed and picked up her torn shift, then examined the rip. It could be easily mended.

  She laid it on the bed and had to laugh aloud as she imagined Lisette’s eyes widening and her giggle if she knew who had made that tear, and how, and when.

  The beast uncaged. At last!

  “Father, they’re doing their best,” Reece said as Sir Urien scowled at the line of young men mounted on their horses, their lances dipping and swaying as they tried to keep them straight.

  “Tighter under the arm. Hold it against your body when you are at rest!” his father called before he turned toward his son. “I have had enough of this for today.”

  He glared again at the lads. “You’re dismissed.”

  Like the boys, Reece glanced overhead to check the position of the sun, then regarded his father with a wary expression. “So early?”

  “Yes. Go on! Go!” Sir Urien waved his hand as if he were shooing a flock of birds. “Do what you will until the evening meal. And don’t you dare be late for it!”

  Letting the squires finish early was so unusual Reece’s heart plummeted to his boots. Today his father was in an even more foul humor than lance practice generally inspired—hardly a propitious time to tell him what had happened last night. Although he was not the least bit sorry he had finally, passionately, blissfully made love to his wife, it was not going to be easy explaining to his father, his brothers and the Morgans that it was no longer necessary that he seek an annulment. As for the potential trouble that might come from being related to Damon and Benedict Delasaine…he would make certain that his loyalty to Henry was without question, and that he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with them. Consider
ing how they had treated Anne, he doubted she wanted any dealings with them, either. Her loyalty was to her husband now, as his would be to her.

  When the last of the young men and their horses had disappeared through the gate, Reece glanced at his father to try to gauge his mood. Perhaps his foul temper would not last long.

  Then his jaw dropped with shock. His father was actually smiling. Such evidence of good humor under any circumstances was rare with his father, let alone after a lance practice, and Reece felt dazed. “I thought you were angry!”

  Sir Urien shook his head and laughed under his breath. “They’re better with a lance than any lot I’ve had yet.”

  “What?”

  “No need to gape as if I’ve said I was the king’s sire in disguise,” his father chided as he started walking toward the gate. “Everybody claims I’m a tyrant when it comes to the lance, so the boys expect it. They’ve heard all the stories, and I don’t doubt Seldon’s been going on again about the time he tried to run me through and I simply stood there until he sheered off. I think he likes to act out the part where I stand there waiting, stern of mien. At any rate, who am I to ruin my reputation?”

  Reece hurried to catch up to him, then matched his father’s long strides. Good God, there might never be a better time to tell him what had happened last night. Well, the basics, anyway. Under the shadow of the wall, he laid a hand on his father’s arm to halt him and faced him. “Father, I would speak to you a moment.”

  Sir Urien raised an inquisitive brow. “Of course, my son.” Before Reece could even begin, something behind Reece caught Sir Urien’s attention. “Donald!” he bellowed, “where were you? I needed your help with the lances.”

  Sir Urien started to move toward the gate again, then checked his step. “Can it wait, Reece?”

  He would rather not wait, but his father was obviously preoccupied with Donald. While his father might be in a genial humor, this no longer seemed the best time for a vital revelation. Just as long as he spoke to his father before he retired to Anne’s…their…bedchamber. “Go ahead. I’ll speak with you after the evening meal.”