Authors: Tina Donahue
He left for the pup.
She crushed the letter in her fist. A few hours before, happiness had seemed within reach, laughter and joy filling her day. How quickly life could change, dreams ruined, hope denied.
On the word of another. Who? Why? She’d never harmed anyone in her life, making certain to be kind and giving.
Outrage raced through her, pushing away her desperation and fear. She left the mattress and gripped the bedpost hurriedly at the room swaying. She lowered her head to stave off dizziness.
Enrique returned. After putting Rosa on the floor, he closed the chamber door.
She backed away from him. “I have to leave.”
“No.” He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap, keeping her close. “Running will change nothing.”
“My worry is for you, not me. If the authorities learn I was here, they will come for you next. Even if I claim to have bewitched you, they—”
“No one is going to do anything to me or you. The solution is simple and right before us.” He touched Isabella’s letter. “The rumors involve you not being at the convent. How could you be there when you were with me? No one can be two places at once, except a witch with dark powers, with this proving you are nothing of the kind.”
He’d gone mad. “You intend to tell the authorities I was here? Have you not heard anything I said?”
“I refuse to hear any plans that take you from me. You being here makes perfect sense when we simply tell everyone we wed.”
“No.” She pushed off his lap.
He pulled her back down. “Why? Because you find me so repulsive?”
“How can you say such a thing after what we shared? You are a man among men. I would be a fool to think otherwise.”
“I know naught of what goes on in your mind until you tell me. I adore you, Sancha. I fell in love the first moment I saw you at the convent. My feelings have only grown deeper since you came here. What of yours? Is lust all you feel, or can I someday hope to win your heart?”
She cried, “You have my love. I have never wanted a man as I do you, but—”
“No.” He rested his finger against her lips. “I know what you mean to say and I can finish for you. You fear marriage, having any man shackle you, taking away your books and healing. If I could replace your desire for knowledge with my love, in order to keep you safe, I would. However, I am no fool. At the village, I saw what healing means to you. If I were to hinder you in anyway, you would hate me forever.”
She shook her head, her throat so tight she could barely speak. “I would protest and resist. Never would I hate you.”
“I would hope not, but I also have no intention of finding out. Wed me and keep to your healing. Not in the villages, though. Not right away. You need to let the rumors die down and behave as other women do, at least around everyone save me. Here, in my castle, you can continue as you have been—learning, experimenting. Your work will be our secret.”
He was giving her the world, his future, and safety without a thought for himself. She couldn’t allow such a thing. “What of your servants knowing what I do here? I know you say they remain loyal, however—”
“They are loyal, but they know nothing of what you do, save for the few guards who accompanied us to the village. In the castle, Hortensia is the only one who has ever been in the room you use. She cleans the chamber, no one else. She has known me since I was a headstrong boy. When Mamá died, Hortensia did everything she could to comfort my sister, my brothers, and me. She will not betray you or us.”
“You offer too much.”
“Only my heart. Will you take it?”
Weeping, she threw her arms around him. “You deserve a woman who would never bring you pain.”
“I want you because of the joy you give me. Tell me you accept my offer.”
She hugged him as hard as she could. “How could I ever refuse you?”
He kissed her deeply, finally broke free, and smiled. “Do you truly expect me to tell you how to refuse me?”
She laughed then froze. “Wait. What of the banns? The ceremony?”
“We need to wed in haste and in secret like our King and Queen.”
“What do you mean?”
He eased back until he could see her face. “Given the rumors and what we must say to disavow them, that you were here with me as my new wife, not consorting with the Devil, we need to keep our nuptials a secret.”
“No. I mean, what were you referring to when you mentioned the monarchs?”
“Oh. They wed in secret, after having known each other for only a few days and kept their marriage hidden for years with the Queen’s father disinheriting her when he found out. Years ago, Papá told me of the scandal, which he found quite amusing. You and I will surely not be the first or the last nobles to wed thusly.”
Although the news was a surprise, the sovereigns’ past didn’t change matters for her and Enrique. “Without banns, someone could accuse us of trying to hide an impediment to the marriage, my being a witch for one. The Inquisition wasn’t established in Spain when the monarchs wed. What sacerdote will join us now without notice to the community? Surely, not the same man who wed Fernando and Isabella. She told me how he threatened her when he learned she wasn’t me.”
“The man is a fool and will not preside over our union, not even if he agreed to do so for a bribe.”
She frowned. “Would he actually ask for one?”
“That or food, since he likes to eat. Many priests have accepted payments to forgive a sin or ignore a rule. Why do you think no one ever holds nobles accountable for their misdeeds? Heresy and witchcraft may be the exception, but other crimes are not. Power and wealth put us above ordinary people who must be circumspect in their dealings. Dominico, a boyhood friend of mine, is a sacerdote, given to the Church by his parents despite his protests. He wanted to be a knight and understands what a heart needs. He will be more than happy to perform and bless our union. Tomás and Pedro can be our witnesses.” He held her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I know you would prefer to have Isabella at your side, but we have no time to wait for her and Fernando to travel here.”
New tears welled in her eyes.
His expression grew pained. “Will you miss her so much or are you concerned about wedding me?”
“No. Yes. No.” She showered him with kisses on his neck, cheeks, and eyebrows. “I will miss having Isabella here but look forward to our union. One day I hope to deserve you.”
Before he could speak, she claimed his mouth, slipping her tongue inside, tasting him and her tears.
He stilled for a moment, then pulled her against him, his hand on the back of her head to keep her close.
She never wanted to leave his side.
He took command of their kiss as a noble lord should, filling her mouth with his tongue, possessing her with tenderness, need, passion. She pulled at his garments as he did hers. Soon, they lay naked on the bed, both breathing hard.
Across the room, Rosa yipped, sounding curious rather than distressed.
Concentrating on Enrique, Sancha held his face in her palms.
His smile was slow and seductive, filled with carnal sin. “Does your virtue still need protecting?”
“Not from you. My body and heart are yours to take for as long as you wish.”
“Until our last breaths.”
And beyond, as far as she was concerned. She would need him for eternity. “Fill me.”
He swooped down and captured her mouth once more, hand between her legs. Already, her folds were damp with her desire for him, her channel prepared for his rigid shaft. He pressed closer, his member hot and hard against her thigh, moisture from the slit in his crown dampening her leg.
An unrestrained moan rushed from her, a sound born of love. She drove her fingers through his hair, her mouth hard against his, their kiss desperate as they each tried to get closer, reach deeper.
If they’d been at this a thousand years, she sensed neither of them would have been satisfied until they were a part of each other’s heart and blood.
With his mouth still on hers, he guided Sancha to part her legs. She did even better, drawing her knees back so he could finally, and easily, reach her core.
He thrust his tongue more deeply into her mouth, his fingers gliding over her nub, the movements deceptively slow, decidedly possessive. The familiar ache returned, growing more intense than the other times, more powerful than hate, fear, sadness.
She lifted her hips, delivering herself, wanting Enrique to take her with the right she’d given him.
He controlled himself far more than she had, not rushing, even though he’d waited a long time for these moments.
She’d been searching for him before realizing he existed, finding him at last, and now worried about how long they’d be together or if anyone had a right to the happiness they knew. Dread swept through her with such force, she clutched his upper arms.
He pulled his mouth free. His hair hung over his forehead, his forelock hidden within the other locks. “You have no need to fear this. There will be some discomfort, but it will pass quickly.”
Moved by his concern, she ran her thumb over his bristly chin. “I fear nothing from you. Fill me, please. Keep me from loneliness and sorrow.”
“Always. What good am I if I cannot do something so simple?”
She loved his boasts and teasing. “Then why do you wait?” She feigned confusion. “You are aware of what to do with a woman, no?”
He arched one eyebrow at her impertinent question. “We shall see.”
“Seeing is not what I seek. I want you within me.”
“As you wish.” He lifted his shaft and ran the crown down her cleft. Warmth settled in her cheeks, throat, and chest, born of excitement, not shame. She pitied women who found this act indecent or loathsome. If they had loved the men they were with, those women would have forbidden nothing, wanting what she did now. A thick, hard shaft inside her, filling her emptiness, making her whole.
Returning her smile, he eased the tip of his member into her opening, the pressure unusual and arousing.
With his shoulders bunched and face reddened, he panted as one would after running a league or more. “Are you ready for me?”
For a lifetime. “I love you.”
Yearning, tenderness, lust radiated from him. He entered her in one hard thrust, breaking through her virginal barrier.
A sharp sting cut through her.
He sank down, propping himself on his elbows. “Are you all right?”
She was better than that, the discomfort unimportant, the width and length of his shaft stretching her sheath, demanding she accommodate his size. How could she ever do anything less? “Although you filled me near to bursting, I believe I will live.”
He laughed. “I still have a bit to go.”
“Proceed, please.”
“Are you certain?”
She lifted her hips, eager to have all of him inside her.
Taking over, he plunged deeper until their bodies touched, his throat bobbing with his swallow.
She snatched a breath and tightened her inner muscles around him, squeezing his shaft as her hand would. Perhaps better, given his sharp intake of air.
“No—stop.” He groaned. “I need a moment.”
Of course he did. Isabella had told her what to expect when a woman lay with a man. Again, her words had proven true. “Forgive me.”
“No need.” He cleared his throat. “Shall we continue?” He stroked her nub.
She moaned brazenly. He pumped. The easy slide of his shaft within her sheath fed her passion. Her channel was glutted, achy with unrelieved desire.
Rather than seek his own relief, he measured his thrusts and strokes, working her with skill and love. She yielded, a curious combination of arousal and surrender filling her, leaving her fully vulnerable to him.
He quickened his pace. The bedframe groaned with his powerful thrusts, his sac tapping her buttocks each time their bodies came together. The faint smack of skin against skin the most glorious sound she’d ever heard.
He brushed her nub quicker, harder, forcing her toward the peak.
No. She needed to hold onto these enchanting moments as long as she could, sensing he also battled release. Perspiration dampened his chest and throat, his complexion darkened, features grew strained. He seemed caught between rapture and agony with her the cause.
She’d never been as proud or had dreamed a man could want her this much. He loved her even after all she’d put him through, and what they had yet to face. She prayed they’d find more good than bad in their future, wanting nothing more than to bring him happiness.
To that end, she squeezed her inner muscles around his shaft. He trembled then growled, growing more intent in his determination to delight her.
The wonder of his thrusts was soon more than she could resist, his strokes on her nub as needed as air, food, water. She tensed at the carnal storm swirling within her, the pleasure so extraordinary it had nowhere to go and needed to break free. She fought the end helplessly, crying her release, unmindful of who might hear. Her only concern was the glory of his heat, scent, strength, so many emotions and feelings pummeling her she was too weak to move, her channel pulsing around his shaft.
His member was still hard, thicker than she recalled, straining against the walls of her sheath. He hadn’t peaked as she had. With a tight smile, he thrust again.
* * * *
She was his at last, which made him want her still more, his shaft inside of her for hours, days, months at a time. He never wanted to separate himself from her. Her channel was deliciously hot, smooth and damp, giving his member a home, a safe harbor he could always count on.
She loved him.
He wanted to roar with joy but could barely draw a full breath. Sweat ran into his eyes, the sting not nearly as bad as the dull ache in his sac and shaft, his sex begging for relief.
He ignored his desires, his mind and soul needing the act to continue indefinitely until he’d had enough of her.
He never would.
His fierce kisses had bruised her lips, leaving them puffy and red. A deep flush colored her face and throat. She seemed unable to keep her lids open for long, though she didn’t sleep. She stroked his arms lightly, speaking with touch rather than words.