HealingPassion (16 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Thomas roused to the sound of the dinner bell clanging.
Beside him, Juliana stirred as well. A knock on the door followed hard on the
warning bell. “My lady?” Avice called. “Would you have me help you dress for
dinner?”

“Nay, thank you,” Juliana called, without moving. “I can see
to it myself.”

“As you will, my lady.”

Thomas withdrew and rolled over to get out of bed. He turned
when he heard Juliana groan softly as she tried to push herself up. Aching
muscles and sore skin defeated her first effort to rise.

“Stay there for a few minutes,” Thomas told her. “I’m going
to put the pillows in place. Then I’ll return and help you.”

Fortunately no one stopped him or questioned him when he
took a pair of pillows from his quarters, noting that Ralf and the servant
assigned to care for him both dozed peacefully. He took the pillows to the
great hall, slid them onto her seat, and pushed the chair far enough under the
table to hide its cushioning.

Juliana had waited for his return. With his assistance, she
was able to rise and stand. But when she turned, he sucked in a harsh breath.
Had he truly been so hard on her? The evidence stood out sharply on her skin,
the marks of the strap a clear map of how hard and how often his belt had
lashed her. Her shoulders bore red stripes darkening to bruises in spots, while
her bottom was still fiery, the skin grated, with blackish bruises beginning to
show. One spot on her left thigh sported a large, heavy black mark where the
end of the strap had dug in several times.

“Are you certain you won’t change your mind and stay here?
‘Twill not be comfortable sitting on that, even with pillows.”

“My reasons haven’t changed, nor has the necessity. I can
bear this.”

He suspected she regretted that resolve before midway
through dinner, despite the riotous cheers and laughter that marked the meal as
the most cheerful one since the night the traveling company had stopped by. But
the smiles of the people in the hall and their obvious satisfaction in seeing
her at ease and reconciled with Sir Thomas surely compensated for her discomfort.
It sent odd streaks of longing into his heart and his groin. All here knew how
much they cared for each other, and they just as clearly approved. Yet he
couldn’t promise either them or her that there would be any future for them,
less the one they envisioned and hoped for. As joyous an occasion as it was, he
could still see Juliana’s relief when all had finished eating. He wasted no
time in standing to retire. Perhaps a few realized that the hand he extended to
help the lady rise was as much a necessity as a courtesy.

“There should be a bath waiting for us,” he said, as they
walked the corridor. “I asked for it when I went to put the pillows out. ‘Twill
do your bruises good to soak out some of the soreness.”

The tub sat in front of the fire with two servants pouring
buckets of hot water into it. Another pair came in just behind them to add to
it. Steam rose from the surface. When a third group of servants had come and
gone, Thomas told them it was enough, barred the door, and helped her out of
her clothes. He had to suppress the urge to whip himself when he saw how much
he’d hurt her. She felt so fragile and delicate as he lifted her over the edge
and into the tub that he couldn’t believe he’d beaten her so cruelly. No matter
that she wanted it, had practically forced him to do it. He’d been harsh with
her.

She sank down in the tub, then stopped when the water stung
the places on her bottom and thighs where the skin had been grated by the
strap. But after a minute she lowered herself the rest of the way. Relief
showed on her face as the heat of the water worked its way into her body and
loosened tight muscles.

Thomas let her soak for a few minutes, then picked up a
washcloth and soaped it. She kept her eyes shut as he ran the cloth over her
shoulders and arms. Another pang knifed into him when he found a bruise on her
arm in the shape of the end of the belt.

Juliana’s eyes opened. She watched him for a moment, then
shocked him when she said, “Won’t you join me in the tub, Sir Thomas? ‘Twill be
a tight fit, but I believe there’s room enough.”

He dropped the wash cloth in his astonishment, but a grin he
couldn’t suppress spread across his face. He shed his clothes before she could
change her mind and climbed in with her. His added bulk pushed the water level
almost to the top of the tub, and some splashed out as he lowered himself in,
facing her. With space tight, he had to sit with his knees bent, legs
positioned outside hers.

They attempted to wash each other, but ended up using the
lather from the soap to draw designs on each other’s chests. He couldn’t keep
his hands from her breasts, the sweetest such mounds he’d ever seen or felt.
The delicate nipples responded so avidly to his touch, beading into hard
pebbles and forcing breathless gasps from her.

“Turn around and I’ll wash your hair,” he promised.

No doubt she realized that his plans included more than just
washing her hair, but she nonetheless acceded, though it took some careful
maneuvering in the narrow confines of the tub to shift her without hurting her.
She settled against him where she could surely feel the hard jut of his needy
cock poking into her back. He washed her hair, massaging her scalp with the
suds and sliding it through her long, thick strands. Once he’d rinsed the soap
out, he drew her to lean back against him, lifted her so that his legs were
under hers, and wrapped his arms around her. He covered her breasts, kneading
them gently, caressing the tips. He drank in her soft gasps and sighs of
pleasure as he worked her nipples into peaks, which he pressed and pinched
lightly.

His right hand left her breast and brushed down over her
stomach and belly to her cleft. He nudged her legs farther apart, and pushed a
finger into the petals of her quim to part them. She moaned louder when he
found her pearl and began to stroke it. Her pleasure built until she squirmed
against him and panted with need. He brushed his fingers down the slit,
stopping first at the entrance to her womb and exploring the recess there, then
going down farther and finding the other opening. She jolted with shock and
surprise when he pushed into that entry as well, but adjusted to it after a
moment. “My lord,” she murmured.

“Is it not pleasant?” he asked

“Aye, it is in a way. But I did not expect anything like
it.” Her hands wrapped around his thighs, fingers digging into the skin as her
tension grew. Every muscle in her body became rigid and hard, her breathing
rapid and gasping. She was a knot being pulled tighter and tighter until she
vibrated on the edge of climax. He returned to working her pearl with one hand
and her nipple with the other, rubbing, stroking, even pinching lightly until
her moans grew louder. She shook in his arms, and of a sudden she squealed in
startled delight as the spasms of fulfillment rolled through her. While she
jerked and panted in the continuing small jolts, he held her against his heart,
praising God that he could bring her this pleasure, after he’d given her so
much pain. It took a while before she finally calmed and went still.

By then the water had cooled, so he stirred, climbed out,
and lifted her from the tub. They dried each other off, though she took a long
time about toweling him, and, as before, seemed fascinated by the usually
hidden parts of him.

He picked up her shift and went to slip it over her head,
but she stopped him. “Thomas, you’ve pleasured me, but have taken none for
yourself. ‘Tis hardly fair.”

“I’ve taken pleasure in giving it to you,” he answered.

She shook her head. “There’s more, is there not? Pleasure is
meant to be shared between a man and a woman.”

“Between a man and a woman who are married. Do we go that
far, I could get you with child, and this is not the time for that.”

She considered it. He saw when she reluctantly conceded.
“But is there naught we can do to share more fully?”

“Perhaps so. Come here.”

Her slight body fit easily into his arms, and her soft
curves yielded to his hard angles in a most satisfying way. When he tipped her
head back and leaned down to kiss her, it felt as though everything he was, had
been, and would be passed to her in the contact. His cock stiffened even more,
if that were possible, and strained against her, seeking its natural target.

He kissed her for a while, reveling in the sheer glorious
pleasure of it. His tongue roved across her face and into her ear, but took its
most vigorous delight in plundering the depths of her mouth. The warm, smooth
richness of it tempted him to dig deeper and deeper, to want more and more of
her.

Juliana made everything seem brighter, sweeter, more joyful.
She gave new meaning and fullness to his life. How could he let her go? How
could he risk her, even for the sake of his honor?

When she squirmed against him and put a hand around his
jutting cock, all thought fled. He could do nothing but feel. He dragged her
over to the bed and lay with her against him. Her hands roved his chest and
abdomen, down his legs, up the insides of his thighs and—finally,
gloriously—cupped his balls. She kneaded them carefully. His insides dissolved
into hot, running fire that made his whole body blaze with wanting her.

He couldn’t stand it. The urge, the need, the desperation to
bury himself inside her all but consumed him. His hands ran over her hips and
then the idea struck.

She stiffened for a moment when he tried to flip her over
onto her belly, but it was more from surprise than displeasure. He knelt
between her legs, then lowered himself on top of her, letting his cock lie
along the cleft of her bottom. Her skin half enveloped him in soft, yielding
warmth.

“Does this pain you?” he asked, fearing that he might be
causing her sore bottom to ache again.

“Nay,” she said on a soft sigh of mixed pleasure and
contentment. “‘Tis good.”

He moved against her, sliding up and down, just as he would
if he were inside. He almost spurted right away when she moved against him,
trying to match his rhythm. She reached back and slid her hand between his cock
and his body so that he was completely wrapped in Juliana.

With her cooperating so completely, it didn’t take long
before his breath came in pants and sweat gathered at his temples from the
effort. Then he felt it coming. He held still, savoring the moment for as long
as he could, before the seed poured from him in spasms of release.

He collapsed on top of her, feeling a small whoosh of air as
his weight rested on her. He wouldn’t remain there long for fear of crushing
her or making her bruises ache, but his spirit craved a moment or two of the
most complete contact available to them at that time.

After too brief an interval, he forced himself up and off
her. He held her in place while he found a towel and used it to clean up the
sticky patch he’d deposited.

They lay together, then, with the single candle guttering in
its sconce, and drifted on the lazy peace and contentment of their fulfillment.
Juliana fell asleep, tucked into the curve of his body with his arms around
her. He lay awake for some time, musing on how right this felt, to be
protecting her, sheltering her, sharing his life and his love with her. Raw
terror shot through him at the thought of losing it, of losing her. He wanted
to stay with her here forever, and if they had to fight the entire rest of the
world to do it, so be it.

Yet he was a knight as well, and sworn to the king’s
service. Honor was so much a part of him that if he failed it, he wouldn’t know
how to live anymore. He’d be nothing to himself and of no use to Juliana. So
he’d do what he had to do.

The next morning he rose early, even before the first light
of sun brightened the sky. He met a few people coming and going, but none
stopped him to ask his business. The chapel was cold and dark, save for the
candle that burned on the altar, indicating the presence of the consecrated
body and blood of the Lord in the tabernacle.

He knelt and prayed with all his soul and spirit that he be
guided to do the right thing, and that all would come out well in the end. He
tried to echo the words of the Christ in his prayers. “Not my will be done, but
thine.” The struggle consumed him, yet when he rose, at last, he found a core
of peace settling in his soul.

By then the sun was up and gleaming off white stretches of
snow. Already it had begun to melt off some of the tree branches.

He met Juliana in the great hall, where she’d stopped for
bread and cider. The lights in her eyes when she smiled dazzled him. The warmth
of it ran through him and settled in his heart, expanding it until his chest
would barely contain the enlarged organ. And yet it roused a chill as well, a
cold frisson of fear for her and for their future.

They sat together at one of the long side tables while they
ate, amidst a group of household serfs and vassals. He found peace in listening
to the conversation flow around them. The everyday business of the keep had its
own rhythm and profound connection to the deeper patterns of life. Its sheer
normalcy diverted and refreshed him.

But after they’d finished, he asked to speak with Juliana
privately, and they proceeded to her little office. He couldn’t help
remembering his first interview with her in the room. He’d drastically misinterpreted
her reaction to his telling her he thought Groswick dead, yet he’d been so
right about the fundamental strength and courage of her. Here she’d first begun
to wend her way into his heart. And here he’d have to deliver the news that
would test her in ways that would probe her deepest loyalties and honor.

Chapter Fifteen

Juliana braced herself as she watched Thomas work up his
nerve for what he had to say. She guessed at some of it already. She’d noted
the snow beginning to melt and realized he would be off to the king soon. Would
he insist she accompany him to face the king’s judgment?

“How soon do you plan to leave?” she asked, when he seemed
to have difficulty finding the words to begin.

He drew a sharp breath. His mouth pressed into a hard line,
and his eyes narrowed for a moment as though in pain.

“If the thawing continues at the rate it has begun, the
roads should be passable by the day after tomorrow.” He walked to the window
and stood there, looking out. He kept his back to her when he spoke. “I have
debated what to do for some time. I will admit there’s a part of me wants
nothing more than to settle here with you and remain for the rest of my life. I
could do so easily and with great pleasure. ‘Tis even possible the king would
accept it and do naught about it.”

He sighed and waited a moment before he continued. “Yet duty
and honor dictate I do otherwise. I am the king’s man, and I came here on a
mission from him. I must return to give him an answer.”

The question she wanted to ask stuck in her throat and
refused to come out. But it didn’t matter. She’d know soon enough in any case.

“I truly believe that Lord Groswick’s death was an accident
and your own involvement incidental. He died because
he
tried to harm
you
,
not because
you
meant
him
any harm. I would swear my belief of
that to the king on anything he wished. Yet I cannot guarantee he would see
events in the same light. I cannot guarantee his reaction or what…penalty he
might deem just.”

Thomas turned to face her. “For that reason, I will not
insist you accompany me. In fact, I’ll ask that you not. I go alone to the
king’s court. What I offer you is this. I give you six months to follow me
there. Until you arrive or until the sixth months expire, I will tell the king
I’m awaiting one last piece of information before I can answer the question of
Lord Groswick’s fate. Should you come, I will go to the king privately, explain
what I feel happened, and beg his mercy when you come before him. I will also
tell him that it’s the deepest wish of my heart—the only thing I want in this
life—that we be allowed to marry.”

“And…” She had to stop and clear the lump from her throat.
“Should I not follow within six months?”

He watched her closely, the gaze of his blue eyes a sword
that drove into her heart. “I will tell the king I’ve received word that Lord
Groswick died in an accident at the keep. No word was sent as he lingered for
some time, and recovery was uncertain. The king will likely appoint someone to
take charge of the keep and its demesne. I will request that he give you some
jointure so that your future is secured. As a widow, you will then have the
luxury to make what arrangements please you.”

She sucked in a breath. “I would not see you again, though.”

“I cannot answer that with any certainty.”

She considered it for a moment before the realization came
to her. “You would lie for me to the king?”

He let out a harsh breath and nodded. “A small evil to
prevent the greater one of your being unjustly condemned. My conscience can
abide it.”

“And I can prevent its necessity.”

“Consider well the possible price, my lady,” he warned.

“I shall,” she promised. “Most surely I shall consider well
the price involved either way.” Her eyes burned with tears she refused to
release.

* * * * *

Thomas left two days later, taking Bertram with him. Ralf
had not yet recovered enough to withstand the rigors of travel. He would either
make his own way to court later, when he recovered, or accompany Lady Juliana,
should she decide to make the journey.

The night before his departure, they undressed each other
and lay together, kissing and stroking each other for a long time. His mouth
worked hers until she opened for him, and then his tongue plundered every nook
and corner.

When he drew back and just watched her for a moment, his
head propped on his bent elbow, the candlelight reflected in the gold of his
hair and burnished his skin. She’d never seen a man so beautiful before. That
he was also strong, honorable, courageous and kind could be nothing less than a
miracle. A miracle she didn’t deserve.

“Your expression is sad, my love,” he said. “Do not think on
what is to come. For tonight think only of what we have now.”

For his sake she would try. “Kiss me again, then,” she
begged. “You are most accomplished at distracting me in that way.”

“I’m at my lady’s command.” He leaned down and kissed her
again. After ravaging her mouth, he went for her breasts. His tongue swirled
around her nipples, sending waves of pleasure singing through her blood. He
poked at them, sucked gently, then harder and even nipped them hard enough to
sting. It was a thrilling pain that made her quim weep for him.

He rubbed her thighs, brushing up and down the insides,
moving higher with each pass until he just slid into her cleft. When she
thought she’d go mad, he finally moved higher to dip into the soft, damp folds
of her quim. He stroked softly, making her squeal with the pleasure.

“I’ll remember this night for a long time,” he told her,
“and so I’ll not move quickly.”

He kept that promise. With lazy, tantalizing strokes and
nips and soft rubbing, he slowly built the pressure, taking her into a frenzy
of heat and desire that mounted so high she couldn’t contain it. Whenever she
came close to bursting, however, he would stop and wait until she cooled off
just enough to prevent her climaxing. Then he would begin again.

Three times he brought her to the edge of exploding and
backed off. Juliana thought she would go mad with it, but the fourth time, the
pressure grew to a point beyond anything she’d yet experienced. Like a soap
bubble expanding, its containment thinned and grew ever more fragile even as
the size of it swelled.

When he gave her a pearl a few hard tweaks, it finally
exploded. She let out a long, shrill scream as the spasms of release took her to
a pleasure beyond anything she’d ever guessed possible before, a perfection of
pleasure just this side of heaven. Thomas held her while she bucked and jumped
as repeated bursts of rapture broke through her.

It left her breathless and panting, and, when it finally
wore itself out, suffused with peace and calm.

“That was truly astonishing,” she told him when she could
speak again. “You’ve shown me things I never guessed could be. I cannot begin
to thank you for that.”

“You needn’t. It has been my pleasure as well. You’re an apt
pupil, and perhaps this makes amends for some of what you suffered at
Groswick’s hands.”

“If ‘twas necessary for me to suffer him to know this from
you, then ‘twas more than worth it.” Juliana pulled his face down to kiss him,
then she rolled him over so she could have clear access to his body. “Now, let
me make more memories for you.”

She brushed her fingers through his blond hair, combing out
the soft strands, and committing the feel of it to her own stock of memories
she’d treasure. She kissed his mouth, his cheeks, the soft skin beneath his
ear, down his throat and across his chest. The warmth of his skin, the hardness
of muscle rippling beneath it, the way he gasped and jerked in pleasure when
she touched his nipples, all those went into the repository as well.

She grazed a palm over his long, strong thighs, rasping on
the hair-roughened flesh there. He jumped and sucked in a sharp breath when she
touched his balls, cupping them in her hand. His cock jerked at her touch,
jumping with eagerness for her pumping. But she, too, tried to keep it slow, to
build it deliberately but not too quickly for him.

The sight of his rampant cock filling her hands, the smell
of his arousal, the satiny feel of the skin stocked her memory deposit as well.
She vowed to remember every square inch of him, every small moan he made, the
feel of him throbbing in her clasp.

As the rhythm of her stroking picked up, she found a nipple
with her other hand. A swirling touch, a rub, a pinch had him moaning, his face
screwed into a frown of concentrated pleasure.

“Ah, please—” he begged. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

She didn’t. She stroked him faster and faster, matching the
bucking rhythm of his body, until he froze, paralyzed in a moment of extreme
tension and pleasure, then he jerked several times, hard, and the thick, sticky
liquid of his seed spurted from his cock.

His breath came in a series of hard pants, but he drew her
up and against his chest, to hold her tight in his arms as he breathed his
thanks and love.

“I do love you, you know,” he said. “Never have I felt such
joy and comfort in a woman’s arms, in her very presence. You’ll be in my heart
all the days of my life.”

“As you’ll be in mine,” she promised.

They fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms.

Dawn came too early and with it, he set out with Bertram for
the capital and the king.

Though the weather turned reasonably nice for the next week
or so, Juliana felt as though Thomas had taken all the sunshine with him when
he left. Certainly he took the greater part of her heart. Having him depart so
soon after her mother’s funeral made her feel particularly bereft and lonely.
Though the people of the household were sympathetic and kind, no one could fill
the hole in her life left by the absence of her mother and the man she loved.
With harvest done and winter setting in, there was less work to fill her time
also.

She’d made her decision even before he’d left, but the quiet
period offered her space to think about his offer. For a man who hated lies and
deceit as much as he did, the fact that he was willing to lie to save her felt
like both a sword to the heart and a gift more precious than any she’d ever
received.

She couldn’t do that to him.

There was more to do than she’d realized, as she began to
prepare to leave for a while. It gave her pause. William Randolph could run the
keep for a time in her absence, but what if the king did not spare her? What
would the people here do? The king would appoint a new lord, but what if he
were someone as harsh and cruel as Groswick? What would they do?

Did she have the right to take that chance with the lives
and happiness of so many people here? It was an issue she had to weigh more
seriously than she would have expected. Perhaps Thomas had seen the possible
conflict, and wanted her to have the freedom to make what she considered the
best decision. Yet, there was only one choice she could make. Her heart knew
it.

Though terrified by visions of what might await her at the
end of the journey, Juliana nonetheless desperately wanted to get underway.
Every day of delay kept her away from Thomas. Unfortunately, even after she had
all in order in the keep, she still had to wait for Ralf to recover enough to
travel. The squire had proclaimed himself ready three days after Sir Thomas’
departure, but Juliana had watched the young man and seen how quickly he tired
from relatively easy tasks like eating dinner.

It took more than two weeks before Ralf could handle the
rigors of an hour of sword-training, the mark she’d mentally set for
considering him ready to travel. But by then the weather had turned again, with
huge gray clouds dropping another blanket of snow on the ground, and cold winds
whipping it into perilous drifts.

Continued cold weather meant the snow and ice lingered for another
week before melting enough that she could finally plan to set out. Almost half
the household approached her during the interval and begged her not to leave,
especially not with the Christmas holiday approaching. Juliana heard each one
out. After the first couple of times, she stopped trying to explain why she
needed to go. They all understood her reasons; they simply wanted her to know
how much they would miss her and how much they feared for her.

The longer she had to wait, the more her fear of the journey
itself and what awaited her at the end grew. It didn’t stop her from leaving as
soon as the weather cleared enough to make it possible.

The day she set out, accompanied by Ralf and four
men-at-arms from the keeps’ guards, the sun shone brightly, but it was cold
enough to make her shiver, even within her fur-lined cloak.

It took almost a week to make the journey, and they were
seven of the most physically miserable days of her life. After the first day,
the sun remained in hiding behind banks of dark clouds, and for two days, a
chill rain mixed with ice fell. Most nights they were able to find a town with
a tavern where they could spend the night and get warm for a while, but one day
the icy rain slowed them so much they didn’t make it to a town before dark and
had to hastily pitch tents that leaked and barely kept out enough moisture to
let them build a smoky fire.

While they traveled, her hands and feet felt frozen most of
the time. Wind and rain chafed her face. Her clothes grew damp and uncomfortable.
Ralf and the other men did all in their power to ease and protect her, which
forced her to maintain a more cheerful attitude than she felt.

The dreary weather put her in an introspective, difficult
mood. She couldn’t help but consider all the grimmest scenarios about what
might happen once she went before the king. Dying she could accept, but she
dreaded the thought of torture. And how would Thomas handle her death if the
king demanded it?

Despite her fears, the sheer agony of the trip made her
grateful when they finally arrived in the city. As he’d done for the entire
journey, Ralf led them unerringly as they wound through a maze of narrow,
crowded streets, remarkably full of people and noise. Exotic aromas assailed
her, some—but not all—of them wafting from the stalls of vendors they pased.
People darted out in front of their party, with no apparent care for their
likelihood of being knocked over by a horse or cart.