Passion Over Time (22 page)

Chapter Eleven

Bryant took three steps to the small table beside the bed, undid the belt that held his sword in place, and set belt and weapon on the table. He turned and faced his wife. She stared, eyes wide, as if she expected him to eat her. His cock was already hard as rock. Eating her was exactly what he wanted to do. But she was his wife, and they were in a chapel.

Did a man fuck his wife as he had Riana last night? Would she expect him to treat her differently now that she was a wife, instead of the woman who had found a stranger in her bed? He recalled her cool fingers on his neck when she brought his mouth to her nipple, the way her fingers had wrapped around his shaft and squeezed until pleasure tightened his balls to near pain. By God, he would not last a day, much less a lifetime, being nothing but gentle with her. But today, now, he must be gentle.

He crossed to where she still stood and stopped inches in front of her, then lifted a hand to her face. She jumped. Bryant slowly traced her cheek with a finger. Her brow furrowed in obvious confusion. She clearly had no idea what to expect. He couldn’t help a private laugh. He had no idea what to expect himself. He had never been married, had not planned to marry any time soon, and wanted nothing more than to back her against the wall and fuck her so hard she would forget all the other men who had come before him.

With great care, he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her, careful not to pull her close enough to feel the erection that pressed against his hose with a vengeance that threatened to force him past reason. If she knew his cock had remained rock hard from the moment he’d laid eyes on her sitting on the warden’s desk, she would attribute his sudden marriage proposal to pure lust and consign him to the devil. She wouldn’t be wholly wrong.

Riana exhaled a shaky breath, and he nibbled on her lower lip. She grasped his shoulders and satisfaction tightened his abdomen with the realization that she was steadying herself. He kissed her hard. She entwined her arms around him and pressed herself close. Her hips bumped his, and her sharp intake of breath told him she was well aware of his hard shaft. He pictured her spreading her legs and riding his cock as she would a stallion. He undulated his hips, digging into the soft flesh of her mound.

Her head fell back in open invitation and he trailed a kiss from chin to breast. He drew back and stared at the creamy swell of flesh visible over her bodice, then tugged down the dress. His cock jerked at sight of the hardened, rose-colored nipples. She belonged to him and he had done this to her—but he wasn’t finished, not nearly finished. Bryant took one areola between his teeth and gently bit. She moaned and arched into his mouth. He sucked hard. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder.

He yanked up her skirt, slid a thigh between her legs, and rubbed against her mound. Her cream moistened his hose. Riana began to rock against his leg. Bryant breathed deep and his balls tightened in response to her musky scent. He grasped her waist, eyes glued to the breasts that stretched taut with each thrust of her chest toward him as she rode his thigh.

“How you tempt me,” he growled.

Her head snapped up and she stilled, gaze locked on his face. Bryant grasped her dress and pulled it over her head. She lifted her arms as he tugged it free. He let the fabric fall to the floor, gaze fixed on the glistening thatch of curls pressed against his leg. He reached between them and traced the seam of her cunt lips. She shivered.

He slipped a finger inside her folds. By God, she was so wet even her swollen nub dripped with juices. He began to massage the pleasure point, and her nails bit into his shoulders. He massaged faster. She moaned and began to rock against his hand. With a quick motion, he flicked her engorged sex. He slid a finger inside. Riana gasped. He plunged hard and fast. Her moans of pleasure echoed in the tiny room.

“More,” she begged.

Bryant yanked down his hose and wrapped thick fingers around his erection. He milked his cock from base to crown as he continued to finger-fuck his wife. Unexpected emotion washed over him.
Wife.
He shoved harder and faster inside her. She belonged to him. No other man would ever again give her this pleasure. She cried out and arched into his hand. Her walls closed around his finger in a strong convulsion.

Need rammed through him. He squeezed his cock. He would spend himself by his own hand if he wasn’t careful. When they left this room, he needed to be able to say he’d sheathed himself inside her hot, wet channel. She must be fully and completely his. No one would be able to challenge their union. Her head fell forward onto his shoulder. The final convulsions faded. He pulled his finger from within her. How many more times could he make her come?

****

Riana’s knees weakened, but Sir Bryant steadied her with sure hands as he removed his leg from between her thighs. His cock, long, hard, and glistening at the slit, pointed in her direction as if to command her to her knees before him. Enthralled, she traced a finger around the crown.

He sucked in a breath. “Do not stop.”

Her heart fluttered. He craved her touch. Slowly, she trailed a feather-light finger down his length. The rod pulsed. Her heart jumped into an erratic beat. She had been fucked by many men, seen their lust drive them to use her over and over, but had never been thrilled by the power she held over a man as she was now. Carefully, she wrapped her fingers around the base of his girth and stretched the skin taut over the head. He groaned and thrust into her hand, his length stretching well beyond her palm edge.

Still gripping him tightly, Riana knelt. He remained stock still as she leaned in to him and traced her nipple with the tip of his shaft. From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of his fisted hands. She tracked the underside of his length with her nipple, pressing her breasts against him, and lapped at the pre-cum seeping from his slit. Its salty tang burst across her tongue. A groan rumbled from his chest and she looked up to see his head back, eyes closed. His arousal, the effect she had on him, clenched her stomach.

She reached between his legs and cupped his balls. He jerked, but didn’t command her to stop. Lightly, she ran her fingers over the sac. The tremble in his legs sent a thrill through her. Riana fitted the tip of his shaft to her lips and slowly sucked him in a few inches then pulled back, grazing the sensitive crown with her teeth. With both hands, he grasped her head, keeping her steady as she again sucked him inside, this time until his cock bumped into the roof of her mouth and her lips met her palm edge. His cock hardened even more.

With her free hand, Riana reached around him and grasped his arse, pulling him tighter against her mouth. He pulled out, then thrust in with her sucking, the muscles in his buttocks bunching with the obvious effort of not cramming his cock down her throat. She pulled back, letting his cock slip free of her mouth, but quickly sucked the underside from tip to root then, slowly, back up again.

“Riana,” he growled.

Taking him into her mouth again, she lifted her eyes as she sucked him deep. He stared down, green eyes dark with desire. Her pulse quickened. He wanted her—not the duchess’ whore, but her, Lady Riana Ellis, now Lady Riana, his wife. She squeezed his balls. He tunneled his hands into her hair as he thrust deeper into her mouth, eyes fixed on her face.

She moved faster. His jaw tensed. Once he had come inside her mouth, would he remain hard enough to fuck her cunt? He tunneled his fingers into her hair. His scent filled her nostrils. She wanted to taste him and have him inside her when he exploded. Faster, he thrust into her mouth.

“Riana,” he gasped, “we must—”

Shouts outside the room broke into their private moment. Sir Bryant’s head snapped toward the door as it burst open. Four men-at-arms stood in the doorway. Riana froze, Sir Bryant’s cock still in her mouth, and the lead warrior’s gaze riveted onto her. Sir Bryant seized her shoulders and dragged her to her feet. He shoved her behind him as he dragged his hose up over his erection.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“We are here to take Lady Ellis back to the duke.” The man in the lead stepped forward. Sir Bryant widened his stance. “Touch my wife, and die.”

Chapter Twelve

The horse Bryant rode lowered its head and strained with effort of spanning the last few feet of the rise they were climbing. Arundel came into view beyond where Riana rode. Panic had filled her eyes when the duchess’ men ordered them to Arundel, but he had been able to whisper only a few words of warning before the men separated them. Bryant knew it wasn’t her safety but her sister’s that made her fear. She couldn’t know he had already formed a plan to save the girl.

Bryant cursed his stupidity. Had he been thinking with his head instead of his cock, he would have better predicted the turn of events. His mentor might pay for that stupidity. He glanced at Sir Dunbar. The older knight lifted a questioning brow.

“You are determined to see this through?” Bryant said in a whisper, so as not to be heard by the half a dozen warriors cresting the hill behind them.

“I have come too far to turn back.”

“If threatened, the duchess will ensure we do not leave Arundel alive,” Bryant said.

“Once we are safely away, we can deal with her as we please.” Anger shot through him. And he did plan to deal with her and her husband. “I must persuade Her Grace that she wants Riana gone—at least for now.”

Sir Dunbar chuckled. “Have you a magician to accomplish that miracle?”

“That is not the most difficult part.” Bryant cast him a sidelong glance. “We must kidnap the younger Lady Ellis.”

A corner of Dunbar’s mouth twitched. “I never kidnap a lady I do not intend to keep.”

“If you can persuade my wife, she is yours.”

He grimaced. “No woman is worth that much trouble.”

“Can you do it?”

“I will need time.”

“When we arrive, I will distract the duchess with—”

A man-at-arms appeared at Bryant’s side and he fell silent.

Twenty minutes later, Bryant stepped aside for Riana to precede him and Sir Dunbar into the duchess’ private parlor at Arundel. The warrior escorting them grasped Riana’s arm and started to shove her through the doorway. Bryant seized him and shoved him against the wall.

“Touch her again and I will kill you.”

He sneered. “She is nothing more—”

Bryant slammed his fist into the man’s belly. He doubled over, wheezing hard. Bryant turned and took two steps to where Riana stared. She turned frightened eyes to him and his chest tightened. Damn the duchess and her spies. If he found out who had reported that Riana had gone to the prison, he would split them from sternum to cock. He would also take Riana over his knee for being foolish enough to go to the prison…then he would kiss her reddened arse and every other part of her until she begged him to fuck her so hard she couldn’t see straight. Until then, he prayed she would trust him.

She grasped the front of his shirt. “He is right,” she whispered. “This was a mistake. The duchess—”

“I can deal with the duchess.” He gently disengaged her fingers from the gambeson, then guided her to the couch inside the room and eased her onto the cushion.

“I must see my sister," Riana insisted.

She started to rise again, but he firmly eased her back onto the sofa and squatted so that they were eye-to-eye. “Riana, we must talk before—”

The door opened and the duchess entered. Bryant rose as her gaze moved from Sir Dunbar to him to Riana. Riana stood and a corner of the duchess’ mouth twisted upwards.

“You disappoint me, Riana.”

Bryant slid an arm around his wife's waist and gave a deferential bow of his head. “Forgive her, Your Grace. I understand that I am not the husband you would have chosen.”

She snorted in derision. “The marriage is a farce.”

“Nay.” All eyes turned to Sir Dunbar. “The marriage is quite legal. I witnessed the vows.”

She turned her cold stare to him. “You would stand against me?”

Dunbar shrugged. “They are young and in love. Who is to stand in their way?”

Bryant detected the tremor in Riana’s body and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“You expect me to believe such drivel?” the duchess said to Sir Dunbar.

His expression hardened. “Why not? You believed I was easily eliminated.”

She shifted her narrowed eyes to Riana. “What lies has the bitch been spreading?”

Dunbar smiled. “Nothing we did not already know.”

She shot him a withering look, then said to Bryant, “What do you want?”

“I have what I want.”

He shifted his gaze to Riana, who turned wary eyes on him. The need to take her in his arms and allay her fears rushed to the surface, but he dared not allow his expression to give away his thoughts. He returned his attention to the duchess.

“I expect no dowry. Riana is mine, all she knows is mine. I need nothing more.” Riana’s head jerked up. Bryant kept his gaze locked with the duchess’ and silently willed his wife to remain quiet.

“You have made a bad bargain,” the duchess snapped. “She knows nothing. She owns nothing—will never own anything.”

“What do you mean?” Riana asked.

The duchess looked at her. “Did your mother not tell you? She is with child.”

Riana gasped.

“If she bears a son, Fyvie Castle will belong to him.” A malicious gleam entered her eyes when she addressed Bryant. “You will never lay claim to Ellis land.”

He smiled. “I am well-skilled at gaining land. I have no need of my wife’s property.”

She pursed her lips. “I cannot be certain this
marriage
was consummated.”

“Your men interrupted the…consummation,” Sir Dunbar said.

“I am told Riana had Sir Bryant’s cock in her mouth. That is not a true consummation.”

“As true as any other.” His mentor winked in Bryant’s direction. “If Your Grace will excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

She spared him a glance, then he bowed and turned.

Once the door had clicked shut behind Sir Dunbar, Bryant said, “I understand this is a shock, but you did not expect Riana to remain in your house forever? We will return home tonight, her, her sister, and me.”

“Her sister?” the duchess burst out.

Riana tensed, but Bryant gave her a warning squeeze. “You understand that Riana cannot bear to be parted from the girl.”

“She remains here. And as for Riana, my husband will decide if this marriage can be recognized.”

“I am sorry you were not present,” Bryant said. “Perhaps then you would be assured the marriage is legal. Father Vaughn will produce the marriage contract. Of course, Riana was previously married, so we can offer no proof the marriage has been consummated. As there were no witnesses…” He paused for affect.

Her brow furrowed then, as he’d hoped, comprehension lit her gaze. “I only want what is best for Riana,” she said. He canted his head in agreement, and she added, “If anyone challenges the marriage…” Her shoulders rose and fell in a helpless shrug. “My husband will be thorough in assuring everything is legal.”

“What might we do to satisfy him—and anyone else who might choose to interfere?” Bryant asked.

She appeared to give the question thought, then said, “It is unorthodox, but if there was a witness…” Her words trailed off.

Riana’s sharp intake of breath was like a knife to his heart. He considered changing course, but remembered Sir Dunbar, already risking his life to rescue the younger Lady Ellis. To quit now was to ensure his death. There was no turning back. Bryant looked down at his wife. Tears shimmered in her eyes. His heart twisted. She would thank him for saving her sister, but would she forgive him for inviting the duchess to watch while he fucked her?