He simply didn’t care about any of that until he laid eyes on Wrynne. He had to see her, make sure she was safe.
A foreboding feeling had been gnawing at him all day. True, he tended to worry overmuch where she was concerned, doting husband that he was, but no matter. He’d be fine once he saw she was all right. This very violent day in the heart of his home city had merely rattled his protective side.
By Ilios, he had never been happier to hear the cheer of victory go up among his men than when the last Urm in the square had fallen. They were not the brightest creatures, but even Urm mercenaries should have known that Eudo was inviting them to their doom.
With the clash over, the city secured, and the feast already being planned, couriers were currently racing to every corner of the kingdom to tell the people that King Baynard was dead and had appointed the Golden Knight as his successor.
Yes, the foremost outlaw of the kingdom had just become their ruler. What they must think of that, he could not fathom. He hoped they had never bought into all those lies about him. Otherwise, they might think
he
was the one who had carried out a coup.
Thaydor still had not officially accepted the post. To be honest, he did not know if he really had a choice, but he at least had to ask his wife if she’d mind becoming queen. Perhaps it sounded droll, but he had been around power all his life and knew it was actually a very serious commitment and a burden of duty that few in their right minds would desire.
If she didn’t want this, then he wouldn’t do it. He could not ask that of her. He’d serve some other way. Devise some other form of rule for the kingdom. The bards of Lyragon ruled over themselves, for example—to the extent that bards of any kind were capable of discipline, he thought with a twist of his lips.
His full armor clanking with each pounding stride, he put all the concerns of the day out of his mind, just wanting—no, needing, nay,
aching
—to take his woman in his arms and lay her down. Let her love drain him of the ferocity that still lingered in his veins.
“Where is she?” he asked when he reached the upper hallway of the residential wing.
A pair of footmen snapped to attention ahead, then bowed as they parted before one of the gilded doorways. “In here, sire.”
He frowned again at the honorific as he went toward them. It was horrid enough being called a hero everywhere he went. If somebody called him
Your Majesty
again before he got to Wrynne, he reckoned he very well might punch the fellow.
“Allow me, sire,” the obsequious little footman simpered.
Then the door opened before Thaydor to a sumptuous, gilt-trimmed apartment that overlooked the sweeping confluence of the rivers.
“Her Majesty chose these as your rooms, if it please you, sire. Your chambers connect.” The servant pointed to a door on the wall to his left. “Shall I send your armor-bearer?”
“I’ll let you know if I need any assistance. You may go.”
The servant whisked out, bowing low and walking backward. He pulled the door shut behind him, and Thaydor let out a breath.
Finally.
“Oh, darling, I’m home,” he called rather wryly as he sauntered toward her door.
“Come in!” she replied from within her chamber, but when he opened the door and saw her, his jaw nearly hit the floor.
His dainty little Wrynne leaned against the nearest post of the canopy bed, wearing a short, transparent wisp of fabric that she might as well have robbed from the dead Sana’s wardrobe.
It looked
much
better on her.
His heart slammed in his chest as his gaze traveled over her. He was not a man easily tempted, but this…
Her nipples strained against the petal-pink gauze, and her long hair spilled like dark silk all around her white shoulders. A thin, jeweled belt dangled around her slim waist, the dark tuft of hair at her mound barely veiled by the tiny chemise. Her long, creamy legs were crossed at the ankles where she leaned against the bedpost.
He wanted them wrapped around him. Now. She looked taller, too, but that was because she had on intriguing heeled sandals with crisscrossed lacings that ran up to her knees.
It was by no means her usual garb, but he could not deny it all looked good on her.
Very good.
And since it
was
his darling bride, it did not raise the usual defenses in him forged from years of discipline and virtue.
“Well, well. Don’t you look fetching…”
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she purred.
He went to her without a word, and then he took her mouth. She kissed him hungrily, her tongue flavored with sweet wine. He hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her against his metal-clad body. Dazed with her beauty and his own breathless yearning, he barely remembered he was still wearing his armor gauntlets until he ran his hands down her curves and could not feel her soft, yielding flesh.
She seemed to enjoy the feel of hard metal touching her, but it quickly frustrated him.
“Help me,” he panted, showing her the fastenings at his wrist. “I need to touch you. This is just cruel.”
With a curve of her kiss-swollen lips, she passed a seductive gaze over his face and undid the strap, then carefully took his right gauntlet off him. He was already caressing her with his right hand as he offered her his left. She bared it, as well.
“You…look…delicious,” he said as he kissed his way down her neck.
“So eager. Why don’t we undress you?”
“Mmm. Let’s.”
But first she pulled him down with a firm grip on the back of his head and consumed his mouth in another fiery kiss.
His heart raced. He could not wait to have her.
She began taking off the pieces of his armor one by one. She knew how. She had done it before. The time she had saved his life.
Engrossed in watching her, he waited as patiently as possible, already hard for her and so very needy.
“Did you win, then?” she whispered, nibbling his ear as she unbuckled the hidden straps around his shoulder.
“Of course I won,” he answered.
“Good boy. Sit.”
“What, am I a dog now?” he jested softly, but he obeyed anyway.
“You’re my dog,” she said wickedly. “Would you like a bone?”
“I have one for you,” he countered.
She giggled. “Thaydor Clarenbeld, did you just make a dirty joke?” She flicked the tip of her tongue playfully against his cheek. “That’s a first.”
He grinned, enchanted. Then he got to work helping her remove the many pieces of his armor. “Did you hear they want me to be king?” he inquired as he waited.
“I did.”
He watched her face for her reaction. “What do you think?”
She shrugged. “Seems obvious to me. Who else is going to do it?”
He arched a brow. “You don’t seem very surprised.”
“No, the oracle told me of this weeks ago.”
“What?” He looked at her in astonishment as she lifted away his breastplate. “You didn’t tell me!”
She laughed idly. “I don’t tell you everything. What fun would that be?”
“Oh, you’re keeping secrets from me?” he scolded, pulling her down onto his lap. “I won’t have that.”
“I wasn’t
allowed
to tell you. Come, how can you be so surprised? Of course you are the king. You were obviously born for this.”
“I doubt that.”
“Well, I don’t.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and toyed with his chest. “Think of all the great things you’ll do. Things Baynard never would’ve dared. You’ll be the greatest ruler Veraidel has ever had. You…with your skill. And your courage. And with how the people love you. Almost as much as I do.”
She changed positions from sitting draped across his lap to straddling him, and though she smiled at him, there was something strange in her gray eyes.
He searched her gaze. “So you don’t mind, then?”
“Mind?” She laughed at him. “Husband, you could take over the world. And I’ll help. But for now, you’re all mine.”
Then she dragged the coat of chain mail off over his head. It fell to the floor with a jangle. She opened his gambeson and ran her hands down his sweaty bare chest.
He tilted his head back, savoring her touch. It made the whole savage day worth it to feel her hands on him.
She leaned closer. “Why don’t you show me that big, hard lance of yours, paladin?” she whispered, nibbling at his ear.
“You naughty girl. Don’t you want me to bathe first?”
“No. I like you dirty and smelling like a man,” she growled in his ear. “I want your scent all over me.”
“I have some blood on me.”
“I don’t care. I married a warrior. You kill so well. No one can defeat you. It’s one of things I find most incredibly…seductive about you, my love.”
“Seductive? Me?” he asked wryly.
“Oh, very. We can bathe together after. I need you now. I’ve been wanting you all day.”
“Well, then, let’s not keep my luscious queen waiting.”
She slid back a bit on his lap and hurried to untie his braies.
“I think I like you like this,” he confessed.
She leaned to kiss him and laughed against his mouth. “You like me every way.”
He caught her by her waist and looked into her eyes. “No, Wrynne. I love you,” he whispered. “I’d do anything for you. Do you know that?”
“I know.” She set her feet on the floor and stood astraddle him, offering her nipples. Intoxicated, he took hold of the wispy garment clinging to her and parted the deep V-neck of it, kissing her silken chest.
He caressed the curve of her low back. She arched it and moaned, moving against him as he sucked on each swollen, pink crest, feeling it harden in his mouth. She ran her fingers through his hair.
Thaydor forgot all about the battles of the day, swept up in his desire for her. Freeing his cock with one hand, he drew her to him. She stroked him only briefly before he had to take her, and then she lowered herself slowly onto his massive erection.
“Oh, that’s so good,” she breathed, quivering in the most bewitching fashion. “Thaydor.”
She licked her lips as she sank onto his lap, finally taking him all in. He was impressed. Large as he was, she wasn’t always able to do that in this position. But now…
He shuddered at the pleasure of her hot, drenched passage giving him such a lavish hero’s welcome. They enjoyed their joining in stillness for a moment. He paused to tear off his gambeson and get rid of his shirt. She trailed her fingers over the planes of his shoulders and down his biceps, then she kissed him fiercely, her tongue delving into his mouth, her hand clutching the back of his hair.
Sweet Ilios.
He knew she was a passionate woman, but today she was on fire. He clutched her soft backside in his hands and lifted her gently up and down, helping her ride him. She was breathless, sweaty.
Staring into his eyes with glittering need, she was so hot for him that he suspected her supple, young body was in season. Which only made him harder.
He feasted on her neck with his kisses and got a little naughty with her, slipping the tip of his middle finger into a hole he’d never played with before. She liked it. He knew by the breathy little gasp that escaped her. Then she bit down on her lower lip. He brought her to climax a few minutes later, but to his surprise, the lady was not yet satisfied.
“More,” she panted.
His senses blurred with desire. He was surprised but pleased by the invitation as she crawled off his lap and slid to the carpeted floor beneath them. Moving onto all fours, she sent him an utterly wanton look over her shoulder, licking her lips, and arching her back to entice him.
Thaydor needed no encouragement. The rest of the world had disappeared. Heart pounding, he abandoned the chair for the rosy lure of those smooth, rounded cheeks. He could not resist.
Kneeling behind her, he reached between her parted legs and smeared his trembling fingers into the teeming heat of her passage. Then he replaced his fingers with his cock and pressed into her, holding her hips.
She groaned, quivering and tightening around him anew. Thaydor closed his eyes and lost himself in taking her. He wrapped a length of her silky hair around his fist like horse’s reins and rode her into a lather. With his free hand splayed across her hip, he gripped her in place so she could not escape him even if she wanted to.
“Oh, yes. Harder!” she wrenched out.
He rammed her with all he had, no longer able to carry the worry of hurting her. There was so much need in him, raw and hot and wild. So much more than he ever wanted to confess. But she could fill it. She always had. Only Wrynne. Only his darling.
She screamed out with pleasure rather quickly, but he continued without pausing.
So close.
He gritted his teeth.
Don’t make me stop
, he pleaded mentally. “You asked for it.”
“Come for me.” She reached back to clutch his hip and show him it was all right, that her body was his plaything.
In a trance of throbbing lust, Thaydor permitted her a momentary respite, but only so that he could turn her to face him. He pushed her onto her back on the carpet.
Towering over her on his knees, he mounted her right there on the floor and continued her ravishment in near-mad hunger.
“Yes. Don’t stop,” she said fiercely. He was amazed. She just kept eating up whatever he gave her.
She clasped him between her thighs, gripped his buttocks, and hooked her dainty ankles behind his knees as if she couldn’t get enough. Indeed, his every thrust only seemed to inflame her desire the more. Then he was undone. Unable to hold back a second longer, he clutched her to him with a stark groan of ecstasy, and even as convulsions of release racked him, his seed coursing deep into her body, he claimed her mouth, plunging into her with his tongue and his cock, until he was utterly spent, shaking all over.
“Oh, Thaydor,” she groaned, holding him.
He panted, having lost the power of speech.