"And I love you." So quietly spoken, so joyfully received.
Geoffrey chained his hands in her hair and tilted her head back. Slowly he lowered his head, intent on sealing his vow with a kiss. Elizabeth parted her lips and waited. Tears of love and pleasure filled her eyes. Geoffrey's lips touched hers, the tip of his tongue stopping to stroke the soft outline of her mouth. Elizabeth made a sound that sounded like a contented kitten's purr. Geoffrey took control of her mouth fully then, thrusting his tongue inside to caress and stroke the sweet warmth inside. His hands left her silken hair and slid sensuously down her back to knead and fondle the soft flesh of her bottom.
The kiss devoured and replenished, and neither was the victor or the conquered. Geoffrey finally tore his mouth away. Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, and Geoffrey immediately silenced her with another kiss, letting her tongue invade his mouth, wanting her to know and feel the darkness and mystery also.
"So beautiful," he whispered when his mouth moved down to her neck. He lifted her up so that he could worship her breasts, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist.
When his mouth covered one breast, Elizabeth clung to his shoulders with trembling hands and groaned her pleasure. The roughness of his cheek against her tender skin was an erotic stimulus. Geoffrey continued to suck the hard nipple until Elizabeth began to pull on his hair.
"Do not make me wait," she pleaded in a half-whisper. "It has been so long, Geoffrey.
Please."
Geoffrey lifted his head and looked at Elizabeth with eyes darkened by passion. Her breath left her with a low moan. The love and hunger radiating in Geoffrey's hot gaze burned and melted, caressed and scorched. He was the flame, she the fire.
"You are exquisite torture," Geoffrey groaned, burying his head in her silken hair.
Elizabeth 's answer was to hug him as tightly as possible. Geoffrey held her hips with his hands and slowly walked toward the bank.
When he had reached his destination, he let Elizabeth slide down his length and held her against him. Then he gently pulled her arms away from him and turned to spread her cape upon the grass. He turned again, to beckon Elizabeth, but his wife was already there, throwing herself into his arms. He felt her shiver and immediately lowered her to the ground, intent on covering her with his body. "You are cold," he whispered against her ear, "but I will warm you."
"I am not cold," Elizabeth whispered. She nibbled on the soft lobe of his ear and then touched the inside with the tip of her tongue.
Geoffrey responded by rubbing his hardness against her in a slow, sensuous motion and then moved downward. His mouth circled her navel while his hand stroked the moist golden triangle guarding Elizabeth 's heat. His fingers sought and found her, again and again, becoming more demanding with each touch, each change in pressure. Elizabeth began to move her hips against him, her eyes closed in splendor. She felt like she was about to shatter into a thousand pieces and moaned her need.
"I will taste your sweetness, drink your nectar," Geoffrey said huskily against her. His mouth and tongue replaced his hand and Elizabeth turned to liquid fire. Her hands dug into the grass and she could concentrate on nothing but the wild flame stroking her so intimately.
And then the fire consumed her, released her. She trembled, almost violently. "Geoffrey!" His name was a cry of pleasure and fear.
Geoffrey heard the confusion, recognized the fright, and hushed Elizabeth with soothing words. He moved up to cup the sides of her face, willing her to look at him. Tears streamed down Elizabeth 's face and he gently wiped them away before placing a tender kiss on each eyelid. "Do not be afraid of what happens to you when you are with me."
"I lose all control when you touch me," Elizabeth whispered. She saw the look of male satisfaction in Geoffrey's eyes and knew her words pleased him. "In that brief time, my body is no longer mine, and it is so easily done and so forceful that it frightens me." Her fingers traced the outline of her husband's mouth as she spoke, her honesty and vulnerability there in her eyes, unguarded.
"It is the same with me," Geoffrey told her. He moved restlessly against her, letting her feel his need. "Your softness beckons me. I will lose myself in your warmth but will not give up my strength. You have become my fountain of power, Elizabeth. Your love replenishes.
When we are together, like this, I feel invincible. Let me come to you now, love. Give me your fire." His mouth covered hers, his tongue plunging inside in a tender invasion that excited her. His hands spoke of male hunger as they stroked and caressed. Embers ignited, and when he at last entered her fully, thrusting to the core of her soul, the fire of desire and love raged unchecked between them. They gave to each other the fire purified and renewed, and each felt the victory of release at the same instant. Elizabeth opened her eyes and saw the transformation overtake Geoffrey. There was profound joy between the two, shared and coveted. There was love.
Geoffrey buried his head in Elizabeth 's shoulder and sighed with contentment. She echoed the sound, holding him close to her, embracing his weight.
Geoffrey shifted his weight, holding her in his arms. He kissed her cheeks, nuzzled against her ear, and whispered outrageous compliments and promises that brought a blush to his wife's face.
"When did you realize that you loved me?" Elizabeth asked, stroking the line of his jaw with one fingertip. "Was it when you thought me drowned?"
Geoffrey chuckled and shook his head. "I was too angry to think of love then," he admitted.
He rolled onto his back, letting Elizabeth prop her head with elbows braced against his massive chest, and then continued, "Warriors do not record such facts in their heads. When I decided I loved you is not significant," he teased.
Elizabeth smiled. The golden chips in his dark gaze fascinated her. How had she ever thought him cold and unbending? she found herself asking.
"When did you realize that you loved me?" he countered. His hands began to gently knead the curves of her bottom as he waited for her answer.
"I do not remember," Elizabeth said. The sparkle was back in her eyes, and Geoffrey found himself grinning, knowing that she was about to tease him yet again. "Wives of warriors do not record such facts in their heads," she giggled. "Besides, when is not significant."
Geoffrey gave her a playful squeeze. "Ever you would tease, wife. I will put up with your silliness for the rest of our days together, for I love you with my heart."
"I thought I would never hear you say the words," Elizabeth whispered. The smile left her and she leaned down and kissed him.
"I had some foolish ideas of love," Geoffrey replied when the kiss ended. "I thought it would weaken me and now know how wrong I was. You give me new strength of purpose, Elizabeth. A part of me longs to lock you away in our bedroom and share you with no one else."
"I will always belong to you, Geoffrey," Elizabeth answered.
"I know that is true," Geoffrey said. "And I will have faith and confidence in your loyalty to me. Would you believe that I find it difficult to share you even with your grandfather and your brother? I used to scoff at men who let jealousy take control of their lives, and now find that if I am not careful, I too will be ruled by it."
Elizabeth 's eyes showed her surprise and Geoffrey grinned again. "I have not had the closeness of family like you have," he explained, "and I would know that I come before all others."
"There are all kinds of love," Elizabeth answered, her voice soft. Her husband was letting her see his vulnerability, and she knew in her heart that she would cherish this moment for the rest of her life. "What I feel for my grandfather and for little Thomas is a different sort of love than what I feel for you. In time I think you will love them as much as I do, and in just the same way. What I feel for them does not take away what I feel for you."
Geoffrey pulled her down and kissed her for a long, breathless moment. Elizabeth clung to him, matching his passion and hunger.
With regret, Geoffrey finally pulled away. "It grows dark," he said. "Hurry and dress so that I can take you back to our tent and undress you once again." He gave her a sound slap on her backside and chuckled at her pretended outrage.
Neither spoke a word until they were headed back toward the camp. And then Elizabeth spoke, her voice as soft as the rustle of the leaves underfoot. "You are truly jealous of my family?" she asked.
"I will get over it," Geoffrey answered, squeezing her hand. "A knight is loyal and vows fealty to only one overlord, as I have, with William, my king," he began. "You have committed yourself to me," he continued, "and I do not expect you to stop loving your family because you love me. Yet I would know that I am first in your heart and that you would choose me above all others, as I would choose you."
Elizabeth covered her smile. She understood that falling in love was new to her husband and that he was trying to deal with it as he would everything else in his life. He was trying to give it order and a proper place. His mistake was in using logic as his tool to deal with his emotions.
"There would never be a time that I would have to choose between you or my… " Elizabeth was going to say
family
, but quickly substituted the word
relatives
. "You are my family now, Geoffrey, just as I am your family. And Elslow and Thomas… they are our relatives. We all belong to each other, but not as vassals and lords."
"You are right, Elizabeth. You will never have to make a choice," Geoffrey said. "I would not allow it. Nor would I ever demand such a test of your loyalty, for I begin to understand your reasoning. I love you, and that is all that matters."
"Were you still so unsure of my loyalty to you that you left Elslow with Thomas at Montwright?"
"I wanted to have you all to myself for a time," Geoffrey admitted.
Elizabeth leaned against her husband's side and thought about his words. He had shared his inner feelings with her this evening, and there was joy and love in her heart. He had come a long way, learning to show affection and voicing his thoughts to her, and Elizabeth was content. There was still a small distance to go, she realized, for Geoffrey remained unsure and (though she would never say the word) insecure. Soon this too would change, and talk of tests and making choices would cease. No one would ever ask such a terrible thing. No one.
Elizabeth dreamed that night, and it began in a most pleasant way. She was dressed all in white, in a gown that seemed to float around her ankles. She was walking through the bailey of a great palace and a fine mist covered the ground. She was smiling as she opened the doors and walked into a great hall. And then the dream changed to a nightmare. Someone was calling her, but she did not know who. Her pulse quickened with the horrible sound of agony and despair in the voice calling to her. She hurried, searching for the voice, pushing through a crowd of laughing men who seemed not to know that she was even there. When she reached the very center of the room, she stopped. A scream filled her lungs. Standing before her was her husband, his hands and feet chained with heavy steel links. He did not see her and was looking toward the other side of the room. Elizabeth turned and saw her grandfather, also chained.
The voice began again, but the sound had turned from agony to triumph. It was Belwain.
The mist at her feet turned red, and in the nightmare Elizabeth knew it was a symbol of the blood that would soon be shed.
Belwain lifted his hand and pointed at her. "You will choose and one will die. And if you will not choose, then both will be killed." He laughed then, an evil devil's laughter that clawed at Elizabeth 's soul.
She shook her head, denying what was asked, and Belwain pulled Geoffrey's sword and lifted it high into the air.
Her screams woke Geoffrey. He reached for his sword and then realized that Elizabeth was right beside him. His hands shook as he pulled his wife into his arms and gently rocked her against him. "Open your eyes,
Elizabeth. It is only a nightmare," he whispered, again and again. "I am here."
Elizabeth awoke with a start. She clutched at Geoffrey's shoulders and took great gulps of air, trying to calm her heart. "It was terrible," she whispered.
"Do not speak of it," Geoffrey soothed. He tenderly brushed the hair from her forehead and kissed her. "You have been dreaming, that is all. The pace was too fast for you today and you are overly tired. Rest your head against me and close your eyes. All is well."
"I am afraid," she told him. "If I sleep, I will have the nightmare again."
"No, you will not," Geoffrey whispered. He shifted positions, until Elizabeth was beneath him. His arms bore his weight, anchored on either side of his wife. "You will dream only of making love to me," he vowed. With those words spoken, Geoffrey leaned down and kissed Elizabeth.
He murmured words of love with a velvet voice and soothing hands that turned Elizabeth 's thoughts only to him and what he was doing to her. The nightmare was forgotten.
Elizabeth adjusted to her new home with very little difficulty. When she first sighted Geoffrey's domain, she was overwhelmed by the massive structures and the giant wall surrounding them. The stone fortress was so large that it made Montwright seem puny in comparison.
Yet once inside the walls, a cold starkness prevailed and Elizabeth found it most unsettling.
She quickly set about making her mark on both the inside of the castle and the inner bailey.
Geoffrey let her have her way, though he did a fair amount of balking when he found her on her knees, transplanting wildflowers the colors of the rainbow, along the castle walls.
Elizabeth ignored his mock anger with teasing replies that totally undermined her husband's thoughts.
The servants, at first suspicious and frigid toward their new mistress, soon melted under her gentle smiles and softly spoken requests. They soon became her champions and eagerly awaited her next order of change. Fresh flowers adorned the tables, and bright colorful banners, carried from Montwright, graced the newly washed stone walls of the castle. Peace and contentment replaced the bleak starkness. The inhabitants of Berkley Castle were in awe.