The Whispering Night (18 page)

Derica fell asleep less
than a half hour into their journey.  Garren scanned the countryside with his
trained eye, every so often glancing down at the lady in his arms.  She was
wrapped in the brown cloak Fergus had given her, also cleaned by the nuns along
with the blue dress.  Her head was cradled in the crook of his right elbow, her
face pressed against his cold armor as she snored softly. Every so often, she
would shift and her left hand would come into view, the silver ring gleaming in
the misty light. Garren smiled every time he looked down at her; he could
hardly believe she was his.

She slept well into the
day. He never stopped, traveling in a southwesterly direction.  The fog lifted
eventually, giving way to a semi-clear day. Garren stayed clear of the towns as
Fergus had, choosing instead to stick to the trees and less-traveled paths.  He
expected to make terrible time this day, hardly to where he would have liked to
have been. But Derica was sleeping, exhausted, and he wanted to be considerate
of her. Still, his senses were painfully attuned to everything around them. He
knew they were not safe from her father’s patrols and was torn between doing
what he knew needed to be done for their own good, and wanting to be indulgent
of his wife’s exhaustion.

Sunset came and there
had been no signs of de Rosa’ patrols. He could only hope that Fergus had been
successful in diverting them.   The berg of Kettering loomed up ahead.  Going
against his instincts of staying to the woods, he wanted their first night as
husband and wife to be spent in a place that was warm and comfortable.

There were three inns in
the town. At sunset, most of the avenues were closing up for the night and
there was little traffic on the streets. Garren reined his charger towards the
largest of the three inns, a place called the Rough Head. It appeared good
enough for his purposes.

When the charger came to
a halt, Derica roused immediately. She blinked her eyes and sat up so quickly
that she bashed Garren in the chin.

“I am sorry,” she said,
rubbing the spot she had hit. “Are you all right?”

He let her massage it.
“I have been hit harder,” he quipped. “So I see that you have awakened, Lady le
Mon. Are you ready for a decent meal and a decent bed?”

She nodded gratefully.
“More than you know.” She yawned. “I could sleep for a week.”

He dismounted the
charger and lifted her off, kissing her twice before he set her feet on the
ground. There was a boy sitting in the dirt outside of the inn; Garren tossed
the boy two pence and asked him to feed and stable his charger for the night.
The boy eagerly took the money and led the beast around the side of the
building.  Collecting Derica’s bag and his own saddlebags and weapon, they
proceeded inside the establishment.

It was a smoky, loud
place. Men and women were everywhere, eating and drinking and relieving
themselves on the floor. Derica had never been in a tavern before; were she not
used to the wild ways of her brothers, she might have been shocked. As it was,
she was not easily startled. Garren was pleased to see that she was observing
the happenings without stress. Holding her by one arm, he made his way through
the madness to the barkeep.

He asked for a room and
was told there was none. But a gold piece on the counter proved that there was
indeed a room to be had. At the top of the stairs and to the right, Garren and
Derica found themselves in a small room with a small bed. Oddly enough, it seemed
relatively clean. Garren closed the door, bolted it, set their bags down.  The
noise from the room downstairs was a distant roar.

“I shall start a fire,”
he said.

The fireplace was small
and dark, but Garren soon had it smoking with a weak blaze. Derica sat down on
the only chair, watching the flames glisten off of Garren’s coppery-blond hair.
The events of the previous days seemed like a dream to her, but the reality of
the silver ring around her finger told otherwise.

“It must have been a
very uninteresting ride for you today with me passed out like a drunkard,” she
said.

He turned from the fire,
smiling at her. “It wasn’t uninteresting at all. I spent the entire day staring
at my new wife.”

“And?”

“And I think I have
married an angel.”

She blushed. “Oh, but
you do flatter me, Sir Garren.”

“I speak the truth.”

He set the poker down
and stood up. Derica watched with anticipation as he came over to her and
pulled her to her feet. He took her in his arms, gazing deeply into her eyes
before kissing her with such tenderness that Derica’s knees went weak. He
suckled her top lip, her bottom lip, before his tongue carefully entered her
mouth. Derica had never been kissed like that before, but took to it with eager
abandon. She was eager to experience anything he wished to teach her.

He slid the cloak off of
her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.  With his wife in his arms, he
moved to the small bed and carefully set her upon it.  Slowly, he pushed her
back until she was laying down, with his big body over her.  He wrapped her in
himself, feeling and tasting something he would gladly risk his life for a
thousand times over.

Although he didn’t want
to scare her, he was eager to explore her. But he restrained himself for the
moment, kissing her, acquainting her with his touch and taste, before gently
moving to the laces that his sister had struggled so to cinch up.  With a tug,
he released the tie and her bodice instantly loosened.  She didn’t resist him,
nor did she utter a word of protest, so he continued.

He was careful about
loosening the bodice. But soon it was falling off of her shoulders and his hand
snaked inside, stroking the silky flesh of her collarbone.  Moving lower, he
could feel the swell of her breast and he could not restrain himself from gently
stroking, touching, moving toward the swollen nipple.  When his fingers finally
moved across the hard, red peak, he let out a ragged sigh. Had he possessed any
less self-control, he would have taken her at that very moment.

His desire was beginning
to overwhelm him. Her gown came off in inches, moving down her torso, exposing
her breasts, before moving to her waist.  He tugged gently, removing his own
armor in pieces even as he undressed her, which was no easy feat. He kept his
lips on hers constantly, kissing her until she could hardly breathe, tasting
her deeply. In time, her gown was off and his tunic with it. His leg armor was
a bit trickier and more than once he apologized, left her mouth, and unlatched
something. Sections of armor hit the floor like metal rain drops.

When his breeches
finally came off and they were both as naked as the day they were born, he
stopped long enough to look at her; she was all he had known she would be. Her
breasts were round and white, her stomach flat, her legs smooth and shapely. 
He admired her as one would have admired the most magnificent of sculptures, a
work of art that could never be duplicated.

“What’s wrong?” Derica
whispered.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”

“Then why do you stop?”

“To look at you.”

It was her first flash
of self-consciousness and Garren gently grasped the hand that came up to cover
her nakedness. He kissed her hand, her lips.

“No, sweetheart,” he
murmured. “You will not hide from me. You’re the most glorious beauty I have
ever laid eyes on.”

His kisses had fogged
her mind. But when he stopped, the fog cleared and Derica was becoming
uncomfortable with her state.

“Garren, I….”

“What?”

She wasn’t sure how to
put the words. “I… I have never let anyone, save Aglette, see me without
clothing. I am not sure….”

“I am your husband. ‘Tis
my right, and only mine, to see you unclothed. Does this disturb you?”

She shrugged. “It should
not, I know, but….”

“If you are
uncomfortable, we can stop. I shall be content to hold you in my arms all night
long, with or without clothing, however you wish.”

She looked into his eyes
and steadied herself. “I do not want to stop,” she assured him. “I have been
waiting for this moment for as long as you have.”

He touched her face, her
hair. When he spoke, it was almost a prayer. “Christ, what have I done in my
life to deserve someone like you?”

She smiled timidly,
trying to be brave, anxious of what was about to happen between them. All she
knew was that she wanted him, although she knew not how.

His body was big, hard,
warm and musky. Though she’d never known a man intimately, she knew he was
something she would come to crave. As he kissed her strongly, his hands moved
to her breasts and he fondled her tenderly.  His mouth moved down her neck,
biting her gently, until he reached her nipples. 

Derica gasped as his
warm and wet mouth began to suckle her, gently at first but with increasing
ardor. When he finally took her, it was with little pain. She thought the
sensation a bit uncomfortable at first, but that quickly passed.  The fog of
passion quickly shrouded her mind again and her body began to behave in a way
she never thought possible. She clung to him, wrapped herself around him,
relishing every move he made. She could hear herself gasp with every touch,
every stroke, and it oddly excited her.

Excited was not an
adequate word for Garren. He’d never had anything so sweet.  It was as if they
had been doing this together their entire life, so brilliant the sensations. 
Although he’d always exhibited remarkable control, he knew he would not last
much longer with her. He could feel his loins burning with a fire that could
not be controlled.  When he touched the place where their bodies joined, Derica
stiffened and cried out as though seized by the most exquisite pain.  It was
his undoing, and he allowed himself a tremendous release. His thrusts slowed
until they stopped completely as their first frenzy of passion was sated.

 It was dark in the
room, quiet but for the crackling of the fire.  Wrapped in Garren’s arms,
melded to his flesh by heat and sweat, Derica lingered in the wonderful world
between a dream and reality.  She never wanted the night to end; to lie with
him, as they were, for eternity would have been fine with her. Garren continued
to caress her, rub her, his kisses soft against her forehead.

“Are you all right?” he
whispered.

She sighed contentedly,
snuggling closer to him. “I have died and gone to heaven.”

He laughed softly. “I
know how you feel.”

There were no more words
spoken for some time. Garren’s touch said everything words could not. Derica
fell asleep in his arms, waking abruptly when he stirred.

He was out of the bed,
pulling the coverlet over her before she was aware of what he was doing.

“What’s wrong?” she
asked sleepily.

“Nothing, sweetheart.”
He was over by the window, peering out of the oilcloth. “Go back to sleep.”

She sat up. “Did you
hear something?”

His eyes were riveted to
the street below the inn. He didn’t say anything for a moment. “I heard
horses,” he let the oilcloth fall back. “Just a merchant. I doubt your father
and his horde would be in disguise.”

She heard his words, but
her focus was centered on the sight before her; frankly, she’d never seen a
nude man before. Garren’s shoulders were impossibly wide, his neck thick and
his chest muscular and broad. His torso was narrow and rippled with muscles. As
he turned to look for his breeches and weapon, she noticed the perfect
roundness of his buttocks and the defined muscles of his legs. She felt her
cheeks grow hot and her heart race, slightly embarrassed but wildly attracted
at the same time.

Garren noticed she was
staring at him. He picked up his broadsword and leaned it against the wall,
grinning. “Is there something I can help you with, Lady le Mon?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you are
staring at me as if I am a prized bull. Is there something I can do for you?”

She blushed furiously.
“No.”

His grin widened as he
made his way over to the bed, breeches in hand. “Are you sure? I would be happy
to….”

“No!”

She flopped back down on
the bed and pulled the covers over her head. Garren laughed softly, tugging at
the covers she was holding so tightly.

“Are you sure?” he
teased. “Do you require my services again, perhaps? Or maybe you would like me
to parade around so that you may stare at me until you have had your fill.”

She growled at him. “Go
away.”

“You can touch, you
know. Anything you want.”

She shrieked softly in
frustration and he continued to laugh at her.  He finally stopped trying to
pull the covers off of her and, instead, bundled them up all around her and
gave her a massive hug. She squealed like a child, with delight, and yanked the
covers off of her head. Her hair was wild over her face and they grinned at
each other, playfully.

“I am thinking on going
down and getting us some food,” he said. “What say you?”