Twelve Kisses (3 page)

She ran her toes against his calves, relishing their strength.
She brushed a fingertip against a scar on his right flank then a
scar on his right arm.
War
wounds
, she thought, wondering what horrors
he had witnessed. He had fought for the enemy, but she knew he had
not harmed her brother, nor any of hers. He would have told her,
else. She kissed the scar on his arm and placed her palm against
his ribs, feeling him breathe.

“
You are awake,” she said, flustered at having been found out
in her spying. “Forgive me, should I bring you some
ale?”

He clasped her fluttering hand and placed it back across his
navel. “You are lovely,” he said. “Do as you wish.”

She wanted to do more but dared not. “May I ask—” The rest of
her question became trapped in her throat as he leaned up and
kissed her.

“
Happy Christmas, wife.”

“
Is that my first Christmas kiss?”

He smiled, his eyes bright in the semi-dark. “Do you wish it
to be?”

* * *
*

She said nothing, but somehow he knew. In bed together, naked,
nestled close like puppies, he felt close to her. Bed could be
their own soft world, where he could spoil her, where he could
forget wars and kings and be himself again.

And she desired him. He knew from the moment he had stirred to
find her lifting the sheets. He had heard her breathing quicken and
felt her gentle fingers, more and more on him. He did not know yet
if she still loved him—he hoped and prayed she did—but now it was a
gift to him that she wanted him.

The knowledge made him smile, made him confident; where
before, he had been too arrogant. He longed to snatch her up and
holler to the rooftop, but he lay quiet, letting the joy surge in
him.

“
Oh!” She had noticed he was awake in other ways. Her cheeks
darkened, but her eyes were limpid, and she did not flinch
away.

“
May I claim my first Christmas kiss?” he asked.

She lay looking at him, all eyes, and wet her lips with her
tongue.

Chuckling, aware of what she needed now more than she knew
herself, he wrapped his arms and legs about her and pulled her
gently to him. He kissed her, allowing her to become accustomed to
his long hard nakedness, his maleness. Smoothing her hair back from
her flushed face, he kissed her eyelids, one after the
other.

“
What do I do?” she asked, almost a wail. She lifted herself
from his chest, her eyes hastening downward. “Does that… Does it
hurt?”

She had not known an aroused man. How could she, being a
virgin? In youth, they had been closely chaperoned. Tenderly, he
shook his head. “Do not trouble yourself, sweeting.” He kissed her
chin then explored her mouth again with his. “Truly, it does me no
harm.”

In truth, he ached like the devil, but he would not trouble
her with that.

She worried at her lower lip, still uncertain, and he thought
of a sweet remedy. He already knew she liked her bottom fondled,
and it was certainly no hardship to him to do more. “Roll over,” he
whispered.

When she did so, he bundled the covers over her and hastily
added more wood to the fire, to warm her. He poured ale for them
both and handed her a cup. Alis sipped it like a child, propped on
her elbows, her breasts brushing against the sheets. Gorgeous
breasts, too, with pink nipples...

“
Lie down now,” he murmured and gulped his own
drink.

As the fire caught again and bloomed, he shimmed the sheets
down to her ankles and slipped a pillow under her hips.
The better to present those pert, round
apples.

He kissed the top of her spine
.
“Here is my first Christmas kiss.” He brushed her
left shoulder blade with his downy chin. “And here.” Blowing on her
right shoulder blade, he followed that with a kiss. Slowly he
trailed his lips and more kisses down the length of her back. “And
here.”

Her bottom was perfect. He kissed one round, smooth cheek,
inhaling her intimate, salty perfume. She made him at one and the
same time rampant and dizzy with desire. To thrust into her was a
need as painful as a toothache, yet he held off, struck by her
trusting, languid state. He brushed his hand over her back and
down, cupping her graceful nether curves. Her breath gushed out in
response, and he saw her slim legs tighten.

“
More here.” He caressed and kissed, and she began to arch her
back, lifting herself toward him. “Alis, sweet, Alis.”

He covered her bottom with light, swift kisses and brushed two
fingers slowly along her inner thighs. Her legs parted, and he
heard her whisper, “Sweet, so sweet.”

Gently, he touched her in her intimate place, easing and
exploring her tender folds. His fingers became damp with her
essence, and she gripped the sheet in her fists, moaned and reached
for him, her dark eyes fixed on his. He meant to kiss her breasts,
but the glow in her face, her yearning, was too
intoxicating.

“
Close your eyes,” he murmured, increasing the speed of his
roving fingers between her legs. “Feel me.”

* * *
*

The sweet tickling in her womanly parts was increasing to a
wild throbbing. Alis kept her eyes tightly closed, afraid he might
stop otherwise. David's hands, his mouth seemed to be everywhere on
her, and she wished to do the same for him, yet how?

He was kissing her again—down there!

Even as she tried to protest, to shift away, to push his large
bright head aside, he pinned her to the pillow with his brawny
arms.

“
Take it,” he growled. “Take my second kiss.”

His tongue lavished and probed, and a voice was groaning, and
the light and heat of the fire was in her head and exploding in
her, exploding through her in pulsing waves of pleasure.

* * *
*

“
Over.” He turned her again and entered her as a stallion
covers a mare, smoothly piercing her maidenhead. She yelped and
stiffened, but he cupped and stroked her breasts and nuzzled her
neck, giving her time to become used to him, now inside her. Soon
she sighed, and her head dropped.

“
Alis, my wife.” He smoothed her hair and caressed her nether
curls, feeling her smooth back rub against his chest and his
manhood deep within her. “Truly my wife.”

She sighed again and kissed his hand then turned her head to
catch his mouth with her sweet lips.

“
Ready?” he asked, after another, lingering embrace.

Her eyes widened. “There is more?”

“
Oh, yes.”

Taking care not to crush her with his weight, he began to move
within her. He wanted to be slow, to build, but the feelings, the
need, were now too urgent. He pounded into her, his hips slapping
against her bottom, and she went up on all fours to give him more
access. Soon her arms were trembling, and she was quivering; then
suddenly, she gave a great cry and sank back over the pillow, her
haunches still raised as her intimate parts clenched and embraced
him.

It was too much. Kneeling over her, he thrust and quickened
and with a great roar, emptied into her, giving himself
utterly.

It had snowed heavily in the night. Alis could feel the snug
warmth around the cottage and sensed the silence as she slithered
out of bed. Moving carefully, so as not to disturb David, she
dressed quickly and padded to the door.

“
Leaving me already?”

She whirled about, seeing him sitting up, wonderfully
disheveled, curls of bright gold shining by his ears. His hair was
growing out, and she loved to see it. “I-I was just going to the
well.” Why was she stammering?

He yawned and opened his arms. “Come, bid me good
morning.”

But she would not be had so easily. “Good morning.” She bobbed
a curtsey, seized a pail, and sped out.

She had just broken a thin layer of ice on the well when David
joined her, tying up his jerkin.

“
Wretch!” He pinched her nose with fingers cold enough to make
her gasp and tramped off to the stable. Moments later, he returned,
carrying more laden panniers. “My men came early this
morning.”

“
Good, then if you wish, I can begin to teach you to
cook.”

He stared at her, clearly having forgotten, then nodded. “So
be it. Go to it. But I must get this stuff indoors and tend our
horses first.”

He stalked to the house, his blue eyes stormy, leaving Alis
wondering what she had said or done amiss.

* * *
*

David groomed and fed the horses, cursing all the while. He
should have remembered; he should have been more pleasant; he
should have spoken.

Why did I not explain that there was a message with the
food
?

Truth was, the scribbled note, written on a scrap of
parchment, had disturbed him. “
Sir Roger
asks to meet your
wife
soon
.”

Sir Roger was his lord. Why the knight wanted to see Alis,
David was not sure, but he was uneasy, especially given what had
happened in the past.

I made it clear to him then, so why should he ask? What does
he want?
He scowled, suspecting it would be
nothing good, no kind of wedding gift or well-wishes. At their
last, tense meeting, he had told Sir Roger he wanted no part of his
lord’s plans. One other thing he was clear—he must tell his
wife.

But
do I tell Alis
everything?

Part of him wanted to, yet he was wary. He and Alis were
lovers at last, enjoying each other and delighting in their time
together. He did not want the bitter world of politics and dynastic
alliances to intrude upon them.

I do not want her to doubt me, not now, not ever.

Scowling, he thought of a form of words and returned to their
cottage, feeling a hot prickle of shame and alarm running across
his head and neck.

* * *
*

Back within the cottage, Alis understood at once after he
explained why he had gone stamping outside. “You fear Sir Roger
might doubt my loyalties?” Bad as this was, she was relieved it was
no worse, now they were doing so well together.
David cares for me, he really does, and I for him. Pray God it
will soon be more for us, soon be love…

Her husband nodded, looking like a lad caught out in a
misdeed, shamed and defiant together. Her heart went out to him
afresh, despite her fury at being considered disloyal.

“
Does 'soon' mean at once?”

“
No, he will not want us interrupting his feasting.”

Alis breathed out and smiled. “Then we still have our
Christmas, and all will be well.” Pleased to have surprised him
again, she left the table and crossed to him. “All will be well
indeed,” she repeated, with a sureness she did not quite feel, but
she wanted him to be easy. She was grateful, too, that his present
grim look was nothing to do with
her.

He smiled in return, and she snatched the moment to further
the plan she had half-made the previous night. She was not bold
enough yet to ask if he had enjoyed their first two Christmas
kisses, but she could ask this.

“
Can you still make a man out of snow?”

Chuckling, he took her hand in his and kissed it. “Is that
your challenge to me today?”

David was still anxious. She could see the strain in his
bright blue eyes, but he was trying to please. “Yes,” she
said.

“
And then breakfast,” he added. “And after that, it is my
turn.”

Suddenly, he looked as grim as he did while riding, but
somehow she knew it would be all right.

* * *
*

The day was bright and crisp and cold. Snow covered
everything, encasing trees and fields and hedges in blankets of
sparkling white, and the whole world was pure and silent. Alis
pointed out the roving magpies and blackbirds, dark specks in the
wide blue sky, and David showed her the tracks of a hare that had
romped in the field before they had ventured out. They pelted the
ash trees nearby with snowballs and then pelted each other,
followed by a race to make a snowman each.

His snowman, naturally enough, was tall and straight, as big
as an ancient stone cross, with pebbles for eyes and a lopsided
curve of a grin.

“
Yours is drunk,” Alis remarked.

“
Christmas feasting,” David replied, glancing at hers. “Is
yours wearing a hat?”

Alis knew her man was a poor thing, lumpen and tending to shed
snow, but she thought she had fashioned his head well enough. “Mine
at least can wend home,” she began but got no further, as David
scooped her into his arms and dangled her over her snow sculpture,
resisting her threats and scoldings.

“
Say mine is best,” he drawled, “or I will drop you into your
effort and improve it.”

“
Yours has no nose!” she protested, laughing, snow dropping off
her shoes and furs and mittens as he whirled her in his embrace.
“Let me down!”