Authors: K. C. Helms

A Lord for Haughmond (46 page)

“The queen thought a touch of cheer would be pleasing. She honors you,” Dafydd commented catching his own breath.

She nodded with a smile. Frugal by necessity, Eleanor was a gracious hostess when it did not cost her greatly.

“Come hither, woman!”

At her husband’s enticing voice, she turned and stared into his shining eyes. Unconcealed desire and palpable joy shone on his face. Prickles of pleasure tripped down her spine and another joyful laugh spilled from her lips. Unable to resist him she ran to him, melting against his sturdy frame. He swept her into his arms and whirled her about, kissing her until she begged for breath.

“Dearling, I have missed you,” he murmured against her lips.

In the open doorway, someone dispensed a noisy cough.

Katherine’s eyes flew open. A servant stood with one of her traveling chests within his meaty grip. Chagrined by the interruption, she tapped Dafydd on the shoulder.

He never turned, nor bothered to see who interrupted their tryst.

“Out!” His impatient bellow nigh shook the walls of the chamber.

Nonplussed, the man dropped the chest where he stood. As he backed into the corridor, he smiled, but at no one in particular.

Dafydd leaned across the chest and slammed the door shut, then leveled a bold look at her.

Patiently she shook her head. “What will people think of your impertinence?” she scolded, yet a laugh escaped her.

“The ladies will be jealous and the knights envious.” Dafydd nodded his head sagely. “Come, my lady wife, be my squire once more. This armor grows heavy.”

Stepping to him, gladly doing as he bid, Katherine untied each section and laid the pieces carefully upon a nearby table. She turned back to her husband, her eyes widening in surprise, for he had begun to remove his hauberk.

He waggled his brows at her. “What will people think, you wish to know? They will know you are well loved.” He flung aside the leather garment.

Her smile fled as she realized his intent. “’Tis midday!”

He advanced on her wearing naught but a devilish smile and his chausses. Her twitter of pleasure filled the tiny room. He unclasped her cloak, letting it fall to the floor. He pulled the wimple from her head and sent it sailing across the room. Then he lifted her bliaud up over her frame.

“The whole court will snicker behind my back,” she complained, yet she shrugged eagerly out of her chemise and let it fall past her naked hips while she entwined her fingers behind his neck. “I shall never be able to hold my head high.”

Her husband peered down at her with a bemused frown. “Because I desire you?”

“Because I do not protest your attentions.”

A wide grin split his features. “Why should you?” He lifted her to the bed. “Are the ladies of Edward’s court as content?”

Happiness bubbled within her and she made no answer but savored her good fortune.

He stretched out beside her. Pressing his naked body to hers, he nuzzled her neck. “The new babe of the queen’s is the eighth she’s given the king. Do you realize already we have two children? My lady wife, you are a very accommodating woman.”

She leveled an apologetic look upon him. “’Twas not always so.”

With a tilt of his head, he pondered her reply. “I dare say, you mean when you thought yourself married to another?”

She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and nodded. “I could not help loving you. But I feared eternal damnation.”

He tweaked her nose. “You decried your wifely duty most strenuously.”

Katherine sighed. “Mon Dieu, ’twas but to delay the matter, not to outright deny your rights.”

“My rights be damned.” He reared up on an elbow and held her by the shoulders, pressing her into the mattress. “You kept me in torment from the want of you.”

“I loved Rhys, not Dafydd.”

His blue eyes bore into her. “And now?”

“I love everything about you, Dafydd Rhys de la Motte.”

His breath caught behind clamped lips white with tension.

Shaken by his emotion, she took his face in her hands. Her trembling palms covered his lean cheeks while she searched his eyes. “Do not remind us of unpleasantries.” She blinked back tears.

“I do not deserve you, Dearling.”

She had never heard him so humbled. It wrenched her heart. But before she could reassure him, he continued in a rush.

“My lady wife, ’twas many a lie I told in pursuit of a vengeful scheme. I live each day, anon, with the intent of being a better man. Do I succeed?”

She stroked his cheek, so precious and dear. “Let no more untruths come betwixt us and no more mercy shall be needful.”

“Aye, ’tis a worthy agreement. And while we design agreements, I must have your word.” Dafydd gazed earnestly into her eyes. “Nevermore will you hold yourself away from me.”

His voice, so stern while he brandished a purposeful finger beneath her nose, caused her mouth to go dry in sudden alarm. Yet her heart lurched at the uncensored vulnerability creasing his face. Realizing fear motivated his passion, an overwhelming love burst within her. Reaching up, she drew his head to her and, kissing him soundly, pressed her naked thighs to his.

His sharp intake of breath snatched the air from her mouth and his throbbing body strained along her length, yet he pulled back with a frown.

“What say you?”

She arched against his aroused body, burned for his touch, for his flesh. But Dafydd seemed more concerned in settling this matter within his mind. He stared into her eyes with an earnest intensity. From experience, she knew she must needs indulge him or she would not capture his complete attention.

She hungered for his complete attention.

“Nevermore,” she all but panted against his neck. “I am a very accommodating woman, do you recall.”

Her husband’s eyes grew soft. “Oblige me once again. I would plant another child in your womb. Another daughter with your beauty would be a lasting joy.”

She shook her head, her hair brushing against the linen sheet. “I fear I cannot meet your request.”

The bright sparkle in his eyes dimmed noticeably.

His discomfort pricked her conscience. ’Twas no time to tease. She leaned into him and whispered, “Do you recall what transpired on your last visit? The time we spent abed?” Her insinuation must have sent hot blood pulsing through his body, for his manhood moved against her hip, a stirring reminder of his weight upon hers, when, not so long agone he had leisurely made love to her. Thereto came the heady reminder of his delighted surprise when she had taken matters into her own hands and mounted him, pleasuring him in turn.

The scintillating memory proved irresistible. Flinging a leg overtop his hip, she repeated the maneuver, sliding atop him, her thick hair swishing betwixt them. With a growl of satisfaction, Dafydd brushed it from her face.

“I cannot oblige your request, my lord, for I suspect I already carry a new babe.”

He laughed aloud then suddenly groaned, for she moved—just so. A downward shift of her hips and he slid into her aching core.

With another growl, he grasped her buttocks. Holding her to him, he drove himself deep, bringing a moan of joy to her lips. Rolling, keeping her beneath him, he nuzzled a breast, giving the rosy nipple leisurely attention with his tongue. “How very much I cherish you,” he murmured, leaving a trail of kisses up her neck. “How very much I cherish my beautiful and gracious lord of Haughmond.”

Here is another wonderful story by KC Helms

Secrets of a Seduction

By KC Helms

“You must seduce him, dearest.”

The youngest daughter of old money and society’s darling, Elizabeth’s friend, Pauline Conrad, never minced words. Outrageous comments flowed from her without concern and without censure.

But for once, Elizabeth feared her friend had gone too far. Shocked by the suggestion, she sputtered into her teacup, barely managing to get the imported English brew down her throat and not all over the lace bodice of her blue visiting dress. The walls of Pauline’s splendorous parlor wobbled out of focus. She thrust the cup back on its saucer with a sharp click and stared in astonishment at her friend.

“You can’t be serious,” she exclaimed.

Pauline gave her a pointed look. “I didn’t leave my senses in a Venetian canal, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

A week ago Pauline and her husband had returned from their honeymoon in Europe and taken up residence in the grand Beacon Hill mansion her father had purchased for them. Now, seated in the parlor that yet smelled of fresh paint, replete with Brussels lace curtains and Turkish carpets and gold-leaf French mirrors, she dispensed afternoon tea and advice with an air of unperturbed confidence. Beaming at Elizabeth, her eagerness hinted that a burst of laughter would erupt at any moment.

Elizabeth clutched the cushion of her damask covered chair. This wasn’t a laughing matter. “Seduce Boston’s most eligible bachelor? The suggestion is utter nonsense.”

“Is it?” Pauline arched a slender brow and threw her a purposeful look. “How do you suppose I snatched Arthur from under Florence Webster’s nose? I seduced him.”

“You didn’t!”

“Of course I did. Why can’t you do the same?”