Authors: Natasha Knight
“I want to talk to you about something else for now. I would like for you to think along our return journey. I will not force you into marrying me. I will not take your father’s land if it is not your wish. I will, however, remain to protect you for as long as I am needed.”
Gemma looked up at him, her heart falling as she heard his words, remembering what they’d done, why he’d done it. “You owe me nothing. What you did, what we did—it was the only way you could be sure of protecting me. I understand that.”
He stopped her and turned her to face him. He shook his head. “I don’t want to marry you because I feel I owe you anything. I do not regret what we did. In fact, there’s nothing I’d like to do more now.”
“Sir!” she said, blushing furiously, glancing back to make sure Alys hadn’t overheard.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“I know my heart. You need to know yours.” He turned her palm up and traced a line there. He met her gaze again. “It would make me very happy to call you my wife, but it must be your choice.”
She studied him for a long time.
“Do you mean it? You don’t do this out of duty, obligation for having taken… what you took?”
“Woman!” he said, leaning down, cupping her face and lifting it to kiss her hard and deep. She reached up to hold him, but he pulled away too quickly. “Is that clear enough?” he asked.
She was breathless when he pulled away, her eyes soft as she gazed up at him. He would not force her to marry him, and he would remain to protect them. Wasn’t that what she wanted? She neither needed nor wanted a husband, wasn’t that right?
She nodded and dropped her gaze. They walked quietly back to where Alys waited for them. Alys smiled.
“What?” Gemma asked, hugging her once again. She’d slept holding onto her hand, afraid she would wake up to find her missing again, to find everything that had happened last night a dream.
Alys shrugged a shoulder. “How is father?” she asked.
“Worried.” She looked up at Galahad. “Are we ready to ride?” she asked.
He nodded, adjusting the reins on Morning Glory. “I will take Alys on my horse, and we can ride until we are tired.”
* * *
Their journey took four days. They rode fast and hard, resting as little as possible. On their return, they found their father waiting for them. When he saw Alys walk through the door, his face brightened into a smile and tears the likes of which Gemma hadn’t seen since her mother’s death poured down his face.
“Alys!” he exclaimed, taking her into his arms. “Oh, how I feared the worst!”
Gemma stood back, crying a little herself as Galahad put his arm around her waist. Alys and her father had always been close, and she had no jealousy over this. Once he released her sister, he looked at the two of them and stood. Gemma noticed he now used a cane to walk the short distance to them. He took her into an embrace, squeezing her hard before pulling back. “I should punish you for running off like you did,” he said. “But I’m just so happy you’re home safe and sound.” He hugged her again, then released her and turned to Galahad.
Galahad slipped Abraham’s ring off his finger. “Abraham,” he said, holding it out to the old man.
“Keep it, keep all of it. Everything I have is yours, Sir Galahad. You have my eternal gratitude.”
“The ring belongs to you, Abraham,” he said, still holding it out to him.
Abraham took it and thanked him. He then looked from Galahad to Gemma and back.
“If I may have a word with your daughter outside?” Galahad asked.
“Yes, of course,” he said, nodding.
The two walked outside together as Alys helped her father settle back onto his chair. They walked in silence some ways from the house.
“Have you decided?” he asked, just meeting her eyes.
She realized how nervous he was at that moment.
“Yes,” she said, her own heart racing, every part of her knowing she was making the right decision.
He raised his eyebrows expectantly when she grinned.
“Should you not kneel and take my hand? Offer me some token of your affection?”
He smiled and in the next moment, came to one knee before her.
“I have fallen in love with you, beautiful lady, and would be honored if you would take me for your husband. I have nothing to offer but my love, my protection, and this small token,” he said. It was then he produced a thick band of gold from his pouch. He held it out to her. “It belonged to my mother,” he said. She looked at it, noticing the deep engraving upon the metal.
“Will you have me for your husband? Will you marry me, Gemma?” he asked.
She held out her hand and allowed him to slip the small ring onto her finger. “Yes, Sir Galahad. I would be pleased to have you for my husband.”
“Only pleased?” he asked, rising to stand, taking her by the waist and pulling her close before kissing her deeply.
“Well, perhaps more than pleased,” she muttered against his lips.
He lifted her and twirled her around, and she heard Alys laughing in the distance. “I love you,” she said, her smile spreading wide over her face as he set her down, still holding onto her.
“I love you.”
Chapter Twelve
Gemma waited in the candle-lit bedroom, fresh from her bath, wrapped in his too big cloak. She fingered the thick band of gold around her finger, turning it a little, getting used to the weight of it, used to the idea of what it stood for.
After two months, she and Galahad had been married. The wedding had been a quiet affair, but it had been enough, and she was happy. It had been a few weeks since then, and ever since their return, Galahad had been busy rebuilding the estate. Already the changes were breathtaking, and the house was slowly returning to what she once remembered it to be.
She heard his footsteps outside and glanced once more at the bed. She removed the cloak she had been wearing, his cloak, but then pulled it back over her shoulders just as the door opened and he walked inside.
He did not look pleased.
She had been instructed to wait for him naked and kneeling at the foot of the bed. He had been very explicit as to the distance between her knees, the exact placement of her hands, the space her eyes should gaze upon, every little detail. But she just could not do it. She still felt embarrassed in the bedroom. He overwhelmed her, always.
He looked at her, raised his eyebrows, then closed the door.
She imagined her expression, her eyes wide, questioning, unsure as she clutched his cloak tighter to her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she began, taking a step toward him.
Although once she gave herself over, surrendered herself to his passions, she relished the feeling, something inside her still resisted.
He halted her with a slight shake of his head. She stopped and dropped her gaze to the floor, to her bare feet peeking out from beneath the cloak that dragged around and behind her.
She glanced back up at him. It wasn’t like it was going to be their first time together. She was no longer a virgin—he had taken her maidenhead on their journey and they had made love every night since the wedding. But she was even more nervous tonight as he had told her what he planned to do to her, how he planned to have her. He had been preparing her slowly, but the thought of the final act, of being taken
there
, was almost too much.
“Why are you not ready for me?” Galahad asked, breaking her out of her reverie.
“I don’t know. I was scared?” she more asked than told.
Galahad’s expression softened, and he covered the space between them, placing his hands over her shoulders, looking down at her as she stared up at him. “Scared of me?” he asked, his eyes searching.
She shook her head with a small smile.
“Good. You have never to fear me, wife.”
Wife. The word warmed her through.
“What then?” he pressed. “What were you afraid of?”
“I don’t know,” she began, looking anywhere but at him.
He squeezed her shoulders. “That’s a lie. You know how I punish lies, yes?”
Her head snapped up. “Yes, sir,” she said. “But…”
“Tell me what you were afraid of,” he said, calming her by hugging her to him.
Gemma softened, exhaled even as she lay her cheek to his chest. But he pulled away too quickly, holding her once again at arm’s length.
He would not let her off, would not allow her any excuse. She was learning that about him, and although at first she had rebelled against it, she now appreciated and wanted it. She felt secure knowing he would contain her, could contain her. Since her mother’s death, she had been the one to make her own rules, decide everything for herself. This was a sort of reprieve from that; he was someone who could carry her, and she needed, at this moment, to be carried. At least for a while. And it certainly didn’t mean she would give up her independence. It was just easier to have him here, to know he was with her, her rock, solid and strong, someone to depend on rather than being the one responsible for everyone else.
“I was a little afraid of what we were going to do,” she admitted.
His warm smile turned into a devilish grin as his eyes brightened. “Well, wife,” he teased as he slid the cloak from her shoulders, “perhaps then you should be a little afraid.” He reached down to kiss her. She placed her hands on his chest but didn’t push back. Instead, she opened to him, her body softening in his arms—a sort of surrender.
His kiss deepened, and she felt his cock harden against her belly. She remembered the first time when it had been inside her, how it had felt, how it had hurt, then felt so, so good. A sound came from her throat, and he chuckled as he ended their kiss.
“You will give me the last of your virginity tonight,” he said, that evil little grin still on his face. His pupils were dilated, making his eyes darker now. “You will kneel on the bed with your back to me, you will stretch your arms out in front of you and place your face on the bed. You will offer yourself to me. You will ask me to take you, to make you fully mine.”
Her face flushed red. She wasn’t sure at all she could do any of those things.
He released her for a moment to pull his shirt over his head. “My innocent little wife,” he said, backing her up to the bed. When the backs of her knees hit it, she sat down, and he pushed her backward, laying himself partially on top of her.
“I’m afraid it will hurt,” she said.
“I promise it will be a good sort of hurt,” he said, kissing her, his hands cupping her bottom from underneath. “I believe you will come to love this particular sort of hurt, Gemma.”
She felt every muscle tighten when he brought his hand to cover her sex.
“I’m not sure it’s even possible. I mean, you can’t… I don’t think… do… that…” she stammered.
“You can, and you don’t have to think,” he teased, pulling her up to stand as he sat down on the bed. “I am your husband. You only have to obey. I will take care of everything. But first, let’s deal with your punishment.”
“Punishment?” she asked. He held onto her one hand as he patted his lap with the other.
He nodded, his smile teasing. “Lay across my lap,” he said. “Come.”
“But…” she began, but stopped at the look in his eyes. Slowly, she bent forward and eased herself over his legs, placing her hands on the floor so her bottom was the highest point of her body. She kept her legs spread just enough, just as much as he had taught her.
“I could look at you like this all day,” he said, one hand circling her buttocks.
The position aroused her as well, something about offering her bottom to him did strange things to her. It was at odds with her resistance.
“But when I ask you to be in position waiting for me,” he said, the first spank landing.
She closed her eyes with the impact. “Ouch,” she couldn’t help but say.
He stopped and caressed. “I expect you to be in position,” he finished, spanking two more times before stopping to rub.
He wasn’t striking hard compared to how she knew he could, and she wondered when the real punishment would begin.
“Can you tell me the other reason you’re being punished?” he asked, slapping each buttock five times in turn before massaging, this time focusing on spreading her legs farther apart.
“I don’t know,” she said, but recognized her mistake quickly when the caress at her inner thigh turned into a slap. “Ow!”
“Try again,” he said, this time sliding his hand underneath, cupping the entirety of her sex.
“It wasn’t really a lie,” she said, knowing he meant when she’d told him earlier that she didn’t know what she was afraid of. “I was just…” He struck her buttocks again. “Ow, that hurts…”
“Truth,” he said, striking twice more.
“I was just embarrassed.”
“Good girl,” he said, rewarding her immediately as his slaps turned into caresses, the flat of two fingers coming to rest on her swollen nub while his thumb kneaded it.
She moaned, her body relaxing, her legs softening, opening.
“Nice and wet,” he said, then stopped, slapping her hip lightly. He lifted her up onto her feet then, surprising her. She was expecting a harsher punishment than this.
She looked at him, confused. “Is it over?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I have something different than a spanking in mind. I’m going down to the kitchen. I’d like for you to go stand in the corner while I’m gone, nose touching the spot I’ve drawn on the wall, hands on the back of your head. You’re not to move an inch until I return, is that clear?” he asked.
Her stomach felt funny at his command, and her sex was pure heat. She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said.
He pulled her into his arms for a tight embrace and laughed. “Don’t look so nervous,” he said. “I’ve never given you more than you can take. And you have nothing to be embarrassed about with me. I am your husband, I want to know all of you.”
“What did you mean by having something different in mind?” she asked, growing more suspicious when his grin grew wider.
“You’ll see soon enough,” he said, one hand squeezing her buttock.