My Lady's Pleasure (9 page)

“Image?” She glanced over her shoulder and then back at the minstrel.

“Truly, you’re an angel or her image.”

“That’s blasphemy.” She put her hands on her hips. “And you’ve taken leave of your senses.”

“Indulge me.” He walked to her and dropped to one knee before her. “I only hope to fill your dreams, my lady.”

“The dreams of a child.”

He took her hand and kissed the back. “You’re no child, Lady Josalyn, but a woman who’s bewitched my senses.”

Behind the ferns, Ulric watched it all. Pure nonsense, and Josalyn knew it, although her smile suggested she’d play Trey’s game. Ulric wouldn’t dare to imitate the minstrel’s act. She’d laugh at his attempts, and for good reason.

“Get up,” Josalyn said. “This is folly.”

The minstrel rose and gazed down into Josalyn’s face. “My lady, I’ve longed for you from afar.”

Her eyes widened. “You just arrived, and you’ve been near to me the whole time. Very near.”

“Indulge me,” he said. “Indulge yourself.”

She glanced away, and an expression of longing crossed her face. “Indulge?”

“You’ve wanted this sort of love for your entire life.”

“You’re no prince.”

“I can be,” Trey said. “For a few moments, I can be anything you wish.”

Despite himself, Ulric held his breath, straining to hear what she’d say. She nibbled on her lower lip for a moment. “For a few moments only.”

“As long as you’d allow me, my lady.”

“I wonder.” She hesitated. “If it’s a fantasy, I could call you by another name.”

“Any name at all.”

“Harold.” She said it so softly, the sound barely carried to where Ulric stood, his heart constricting in his chest.

Trey bowed again. “Harold, at your service, Lady Josalyn.”

“We wouldn’t have to tell Ulric,” she said.

“He’s allowed us to be together.”

“He has.” She raised her chin. “Well, then, Harold. I will let you romance me.”

Of course, she would. What had he expected? Would she come back to reality afterward or always crave the sort of gallantry he couldn’t give her?

“Pray, sit with me,” Trey said, sweeping his arm in the direction of the bed of moss. Josalyn sat and primly arranged her skirts around her legs.

Such a different picture than their tumble in the mews. Trey lowered himself beside her, took her hand, and gazed into her eyes with frank adoration. Ulric had lowered her to a hard floor covered with straw. Trey showed concern for her comfort where Ulric had thought of nothing but making her queynt hot and wet enough for him to bury his yard inside her.

Trey kissed the back of Josalyn’s hand and then sucked the tip of each finger into his mouth, one at a time, as if each were a ripe fruit.

Josalyn sighed. “Oh, Sir Knight, we daren’t be alone like this.”

“Madam, I’ve worshiped you for so long. Let me touch you.”

“’Tis wrong.”

“Your foot only,” he said. “The basest part of you that touches the ground. Even that is divine.”

“My foot?”

“No more.” Trey bent, removed her slipper, and massaged her sole. “Your dainty foot. Let me kiss it.”

She giggled. The woman who sewed up the face of a stranger who’d just stormed her castle giggled. Had he ever heard her laughter before now?

Trey’s fingers kept moving, tugging gently at each toe and then stroking beneath her arch. He kissed along the top of her foot and up to her ankle.

“Soft,” he murmured against her skin. “And, your calf….”He guided her on her back and stroked the side of her face. “May I touch your calf?”

“Oh, Harold,” she said.

“May I?”

“You may.”

Trey pushed her skirt up her leg, baring her nearly to her thigh. If Ulric had had any doubt of Trey’s destination, the uncertainly fled. The man would kiss his wife’s most private places. He’d taste her nectar and feel her nub harden against his tongue.

Ulric’s blood heated, not with anger but with lust. Though he’d given Trey permission to know Josalyn, he’d never imagined that no more than the expectation of watching would make his cock stiffen. It did, though, growing thick as Trey parted Josalyn’s legs and stroked his tongue over the curve of his wife’s leg. Ulric covered his engorged shaft with his palm, feeling it surge beneath his clothing.

Trey lifted her leg so he could plant a kiss on the back of Josalyn’s knee. The action spread her legs, baring her sex and the dark hairs that covered her treasure.

Her breath caught. “What are you doing?”

“Pray, lady, let me continue,” Trey said. “I’ll die if I don’t taste your honey.”

“I can’t,” she breathed.

Trey trailed his lips across her inner thigh then nibbled a path toward her sex.

“I can’t resist you,” she said. “Please, please, touch me.”

“Bless you, my lady.” Trey placed his face against her mound.

A cry burst from Josalyn’s throat, signaling that Trey had found the right spot to make her climax. The man’s face and mouth moved as he devoured her.

Standing behind the ferns and clutching his cock, Ulric would watch as Josalyn’s face flushed and her expression varied from bliss to little grimaces of arousal. From now on, when Ulric pleasured her, his mind’s eye could show him her expression as she neared the peak, how her back arched, pressing her breasts upward. Surely, there could be no more erotic display than this woman nearing climax.

“Close, so close,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

Trey showed no desire to pull away. If anything, his movements came faster, and he grasped her hips to hold her close against him.

Her cries grew louder as passion claimed her. “Now. Now. Ulric, now!”

She went rigid, her hips floating upward as she came. The force of it washed over him, but no stronger than this new knowledge. She’d called his name. At the supreme moment, she’d begged for him. Neither for her imaginary knight nor for the man who’d given her the climax. But him, her husband. By everything holy, she’d cried out to him.

He stepped forward into the clearing, crashing blindly through the ferns and anything else that stood between them.

Josalyn opened her eyes and spotted him. “You
were
here. Somehow, I knew.”

“Josalyn.” His addled brain couldn’t form another word. Just her name. Josalyn.

“I could feel you,” she whispered.

Trey pulled away from her, straightening her skirt. After a long look at Josalyn, he rose and walked to Ulric.

“You’ve won,” he said into Ulric’s ear.

Still nearly paralyzed with lust and wonder, Ulric could only stare at him. Trey didn’t seem unhappy at his loss. In fact, he smiled and grasped Ulric’s shoulder before walking out of the clearing and disappearing.

Ulric turned back and found Josalyn standing on the moss, her arms stretched out toward him. “My lord husband.”

“You called for me.”

“’Tis you I want,” she answered.

From there, things dissolved into a blur. Not because his eyes clouded with moisture, although they might have done. Not because they shared this magical enclosure, although the beauty closed in around them like an embrace.

No, everything turned uncertain because the barrier between them had disappeared, and when they came together “I” and “thou” no longer mattered. Only “we” remained.

Hands found fastenings of clothing and released them. Lips melded together until neither of them could breathe without the other. They fell together, naked, against the moss, still tangled around each other.

Then Josalyn began to move. Her small body slid over his, leaving the heat of her kiss against his flesh wherever she went. He reached for her, trying to pull her beneath him, but she pushed his hands away.

“Let me, my love,” she whispered.

My love.
She had, in truth, said it. Before he could take the knowledge in and savor it, her fingers curled around his staff, and her caresses moved lower and lower.

God’s breath. She was going to put her mouth on him.

He lay still, bracing himself for the heat of her lips against his cock. Still, when she sucked on the tip, he couldn’t contain a shout. He brayed like an animal in heat, and his pelvis thrust upward.

She didn’t retreat in the face of his hunger, but took more of him, her tongue swirling around the ridge of flesh that marked the throbbing head of his member.

Now, her hand pumped him. Strong fingers working the shaft while her mouth wrought madness, taking more and more of him into its wet heat. She sent feather-light strokes over his coilles until they hardened in readiness for the inevitable.

He was going to come hard. Already it built at the base of his spine. A force so powerful, it would change him forever. Closer and closer it came as she continued swallowing his flesh as if she’d never have enough.

“Ah, Josalyn,” he said. “Take me inside you. I need to fill you. Now.”

She did, rising up above him and straddling him. With one hand, she pressed against his chest for support, and with the other, she guided his cock to her entrance. Wet and ready, she eased onto him, taking all of him into her depths.

Again, they became one as he thrust up into her. Both strained for their mutual pleasure. She held herself above him so he could watch the swing of her breasts as they coupled. At the place where they joined, his cock moved in and out, moistened by her queynt. Her face turned into the same mask of abandon he’d witnessed moments before. She was ready, too, and the walls of her sex squeezed around him.

Light flared around them as his orgasm tore through his body. Stars, colors, flames. She climaxed with him, her chamber contracting around him. Both of them shouted as he came in one hot wave of his seed after another. The madness went on and on, each pushing the other to impossible heights. When it had finished, finally, she floated down onto him, moaning softly.

He managed to lift an arm and stroke her back. “I love you, Josalyn.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Love me, too, my lady.”

“Yes. Oh, yes.”

***

Josalyn leaned against a parapet and stared out over the river. The full moon left a trail of light over the water, and a warm breeze kissed her cheek. A calming night after the turmoil of the day. The man of her dreams–or at least, a fantasy version of him–had romanced his way between her legs, and she’d called out her husband’s name at the ultimate moment.

Ulric had watched the whole thing. What must he have thought? He’d said he loved her, but then, he’d just climaxed himself. He hadn’t said more than three words to her through dinner and sat in silence as Trey had entertained the household with song afterward. She should retire to the chamber below and prepare for bed. She’d discover Ulric’s mood soon enough.

She sensed him then, his soft tread behind her, the warmth of his body as he stepped up beside her. He wore a simple tunic, and the breeze ruffled the sleeves against her own.

“Why so quiet, mouse?” he said.

Her heart sunk. “I’m a mouse again?”

“You’ll always be my mouse,” he answered. “Why do you think it an insult?”

“You called me that within an hour of meeting me,” she said. “Right after you’d overrun my home.”

“Can you not imagine I’d already fallen in love with you?”

She put her hand on his arm and gazed up into his face. “Love?”

He picked up a lock of her hair and wrapped it around his fingers. “The first moment I saw you, I thought this was the color of sunlight and flame.”

She laughed. “It’s brown.”

He brought his hand to his lips. “It’s magic.”

“I think I was mistaken about who was the romantic, you or Trey.”

He dropped her hair. “Ah, yes. Sir Harold.”

“Can you forgive us?”

“There’s naught to forgive,” he said. “I gave him permission to touch you.”

“That’s the one thing I don’t understand.” She rested her palm against his chest and searched his face. “You could have had me. I was resigned to being your wife.”

“Resignation wasn’t good enough, although I didn’t realize it at the time. I’d seen that sort of marriage.” He took her hand and toyed with her fingers. “You asked me once how I could speak English. My father married an Englishwoman he took in a raid.”

“Your mother’s English?”

“Was, or is, wherever she may be now.”

“She left you?”

“She was never happy. My father finally let her go.”

“Oh, but that’s too cruel.” She slipped into his arms and held him.

“In the mews, you asked what made me sad,” he said. “Until then, I’d never thought I held any sorrow, but only anger.”

“Against your mother?” she asked.

“And my father for losing her and failing us both.”

“You must have been so confused.”

“Perhaps, but I only felt determined. I vowed I’d have my own Englishwoman, and I’d keep her.” He sighed. “Only, I had no idea how.”

“You’ve won me now.”

“With Trey’s help,” he said. “If he hadn’t made me win you, I might have suffered my father’s fate.”

“Do you suppose….” Her voice trailed off as the thought solidified in her mind. “He might have known that we belonged together but had to make us prove it.”

“He knew one thing.” Ulric turned her around so that her back rested against his chest. As he nibbled at the base of her neck, his hands came up to cover her breasts. “That I was the one who could ruffle my mouse’s fur and make her ears twitch.”

He squeezed her flesh, rubbing the nipples. A moan escaped her as she melted back against him.

He pressed his lips to her ear. “Am I doing it now?”

“Oh, take me to bed.”

He put his arm around her and guided her to the stairs that would take them to the floor below. They had to separate to descend, but he held her hand the whole way. When they got to their chamber, they found oil lamps around the bed, which had been draped at the corners with flowers. The sheets lay turned back, and rose petals covered the surface.

“Your doing?” she asked.

“Not I. There’s a note.” He lifted a bit of parchment from the table and scanned it. “Trey. It seems he’s gone.”

She took the note from him and read it.
Enjoy your wedding night. Thank you and farewell. Trey.