Wolf Bride (28 page)

‘Wolf?’

‘Hush.’ His hand found her mouth in the darkness and clamped down on it. ‘Not a sound.’

Wolf pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheek, her throat. With his mouth, he pushed aside the lacy nightrail to find her breasts, suckling on one taut nipple. She could not speak, but her body writhed beneath him, admitting without words that she still wanted him.

He lifted her nightrail and his fingers stroked her flesh. She arched her back, keening silently like a cat on heat. Her cleft was already moist with longing, more than ready for him. He made a rough noise under his breath, and his knee pushed urgently between hers, parting her thighs.

Then Wolf covered her body with his own, pressing her down into the mattress, his hand still over her mouth.

He was completely naked, she realised with a shock. Her hands were still free, so she used them shamelessly, reaching down to rub his shaft as he had taught her.

Already erect, Wolf caught his breath as she played with him. Her hands moved slowly, one fondling the swollen head, the other playing his shaft up and down, excited to find his length hardening even more beneath her fingers, his skin like velvet over steel.

With a sudden groan, as though in exquisite pain, he pulled back from her. His hand sprang free, releasing her mouth.

‘No noise,’ he reminded her sternly, then slipped down to crouch between her thighs.

Helpless to resist, she let her legs fall asunder, and felt him brush the bare skin just above her woollen stockings. Seconds later she had to stifle a cry with her own hand when his mouth settled at the apex of her thighs.

He tongued her greedily, his breathing heavy with desire, then clamped his mouth over her damp flesh, sucking hard until she thought her body would fall apart. A dizzying, spiralling heat threatened to overwhelm her and Eloise grabbed at his black hair, first dragging him away, then jerking him back in to suck her again. It was sheer agony to take his mouth where she was most sensitive, yet the most intolerable privation for him to stop.

Briefly, he lifted his dark head. ‘Come in my mouth,’ he ordered her through the darkness, so softly that for a moment she was not sure if she had imagined the words.

Then his mouth descended again, lashing at her tender flesh, tasting her, delving deep . . .

Her hands bunched first into fists that thumped helplessly into the bolster pillows above her head, then stretched into sharp-nailed claws, dropping to tear at his shoulders. She wanted to know where he had gone tonight, why he had abandoned her so abruptly after Cromwell’s questioning had concluded. But the very instant that demand entered her mind it was chased away by the urgency of her desire, a desperation which made everything else seem of little importance.

Each breath was suddenly unbearable. Eloise snatched at the air, shuddering in her attempt not to make sounds, not to weep or cry or flail about, gasping his name.

In the screaming silence of her head she did all that, and more, her voice scratching on the darkness like a diamond, leaving his name behind.

Wolf.

His tongue pushed hard into her cleft, circled the slick walls of her cunt, and was followed by two fingers entering her, pushing slowly inside while he pulled back to suck on her flesh.

That slow penetration was what she had needed to push her over the edge.

Her body arched off the bed and into his face, her mouth wide open in a silent scream of pleasure. Then everything went black.

For one beautiful moment she was floating in mid-air as though falling from a great height, the air miraculously quiet and still about her, the swell and crash of the ocean far below.

Then her body went into spasm, almost shaking him off, and the vast wooden frame of their bed jerked and thudded as she landed again. The sheets beneath her were wet; her cunt was aching and molten beneath his still-working tongue, the pressure of his lips. Yet through all this, she somehow managed not to cry out, the intensity of her climax increased a thousandfold by his command to stay silent.

He pulled away, gasping with her, and leaned above her. His mouth sucked on her breasts, sliding from one to the other, teasing the stiff nipples with his tongue.

‘No more,’ she managed brokenly, knowing he would hear her, despite the threadbare sound of her voice.

Wolf grunted at that, almost as though he were laughing at her, then pushed forward on his elbows, his mouth close to her ear. ‘Put me inside you then,’ he breathed.

Eloise angled her legs about his strong, sweating back, drawing him close. The very act of putting him inside her felt daring, as though she were as bold as a man, taking what she wanted instead of waiting to be taken. Yet Wolf seemed to enjoy the way she was handling him, his cock tense with desire as she slotted him with intense care inside her narrow opening.

He slid in deep, entering her with one long thrust. Her body jerked beneath him, his thick root stretching her, filling her beyond what she had thought possible.

Wolf was no longer cold, she thought wildly. Nor was he distant, not anymore. He withdrew almost to the edge, then pushed deep inside, his body hard and forceful, his muscles taut. She moaned and fought not to cry out, though she had been utterly taken over by the way he was fucking her and could barely control herself anymore.

‘No.’ One hand clamped across her mouth, silencing her, and his other hand gripped her wrist, pinning her to the bed.

She ought to have been angry. Yet somehow that masterful restraint only served to excite her more. Eloise dragged her nails down his smooth, broad back, her legs linked about his waist, her whole body on fire for him, and heard him grunt with every thrust.

His heavy cock seemed to swell even further, thickening inside her. His thrusts grew faster, wilder. They were both panting now, their bodies slick with desire, sticking to each other. Then he released her wrist and pushed his hand between her thighs, seeking her cunt.

Cupping her damp sex, he squeezed and rubbed at it, not bothering to be gentle. His roughness drove her nearly mad with excitement.

Her mind closed to everything but the pressure of his hand on her mouth, his fingers playing with her fleshy mound while he was taking her, the hammering thrusts of his cock in and out, stretching her again and again.

She cried out under his hand, her body arching off the bed in the most exquisite pleasure, so intense it was painful. The darkness lit up with white-hot sparks, shooting in all directions at once, and she struggled not to scream. He groaned into her throat and gave another few thrusts, shoving his length so hard and deep inside her she thought she would die.

‘Eloise,’ he cried hoarsely, muffling her name against her skin. Then suddenly he was coming inside her, his thick cock pumping out spurt after spurt of hot seed, flooding her with pleasure.

She lay beneath him for ages in panting silence, unwilling to move and uncouple from him. Her body was heavy and lethargic, and all her cares seemed to have fled, leaving her empty of thought.

Eventually his hand slipped off her mouth, as though he were falling asleep still inside her.

She turned at once, hungry for him again, nuzzling deep into his shoulder, enjoying the slick feel of his skin beneath her cheek.

Wolf had shown her no tenderness tonight.

No doubt he was still angry after the public accusation that she had been intimate with Simon before their marriage, even though it was untrue and he must know it. She had taken kisses from Simon, and a few fevered caresses. But her honour had never been breached, and she had gone to the altar
virgo intacto
.

But at least Wolf had returned to their bed. And he had given her what she needed after that terrifying inquisition by Sir Thomas Cromwell: a brilliant, intense, soaring climax that had wiped her clean.

Had Wolf known how pleasure would soothe her nightmares, she wondered? Or had he come back to stamp himself upon her after those damaging accusations by Cromwell, eager to remind his wife to whom she belonged?

She stirred after the most delicious sleep to find Mary bustling about the sunlit chamber, emptying the covered chamber pot and pulling the bed curtains open. She sat up, stretching and yawning, and slowly rearranged her tangled nightrail. Then it hit her that she was alone.

Eloise stared at the empty space beside her pillow, puzzled not to see Wolf lying there.

‘Mary, where is his lordship?’

‘Begging your pardon, my lady, I have not seen Lord Wolf this morning. I do not think his lordship came back last night.’

The maid paused, and a slight flush entered her cheeks as she realised the potential significance of what she had said.

‘That is . . . I do not know where he is, my lady.’

‘Oh, his lordship came back.’ Eloise swung her legs out of bed, still a little sore from the forceful way he had taken her in the night. She tried not to show the despair devouring her soul. ‘Only it seems he chose not to stay.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Wolf had still not returned by the following evening, and although she was bored, Eloise thought it prudent to remain closeted in their chambers during his absence. She had no idea whether she was still under suspicion after giving her testimony, but it was better not to draw attention to herself by wandering the court unaccompanied by her husband. She did not know where he had gone, but her body still bore the marks of his unexpected visit. Occasionally she pushed back the lace-trimmed sleeve of her gown to see the slight bruise he had left on her wrist, remembering the strength of their desire. The memory left her tingling with pleasure.

When Mary came back from the kitchens with a trencher for her evening meal, she was full of whispers about the queen’s impending fate. It seemed that although the courtiers in charge of the investigation could not make the dates fit the queen’s movements, this was considered unimportant, for a theory had been put forward that she was a witch and could magically appear at will in any place.

‘Are these men out of their wits?’ Eloise muttered, stabbing at her food with her belt dagger. Suddenly she had no appetite. The sauce was too salty, and the quail meat tasted like ashes in her mouth. She pushed the trencher away impatiently. ‘They will have her condemned any way they can. Poor Queen Anne!’

Suddenly, she found herself weeping, and angrily sought a handkerchief amongst the folds of her gown.

The Lord alone knew what terrors the queen must be facing, waiting in her cell at the Tower, while these wicked men conjured up phantom lovers for her on every side. And for what reason? Because she had not yet produced the son and heir King Henry craved, and His Majesty had grown impatient.

‘My lady,’ Mary whispered urgently, hurrying to clear away her barely touched trencher. ‘I hear footsteps outside. I think someone is coming.’

Drying her eyes, Eloise sat up at once and arranged her gown more decorously. Belatedly, she remembered what Wolf had told her on their arrival at court. Whenever anyone visited or the door to their apartments was open, she must always be guarded in her speech and actions. In particular, she must not allow anyone to think she was frightened, in case that was taken for guilt by those who watched.

When the knock came, she called out in a calm voice, ‘Enter!’

It was Hugh Beaufort. He pulled off his cap and bowed to her politely, but when he straightened, she caught a grim look in his eyes and felt her heartbeat jump.

Had something happened to Wolf?

She drew a steadying breath before addressing him, her hands in her lap. ‘Master Beaufort, I am glad to see you.’

‘Forgive me, Lady Wolf, for not visiting you before now. But I have been much occupied with the king and his councillors.’ Hugh stood awkwardly in the open doorway, looking rather stiff and sombre in a black robe, his black velvet cap still in his hand. Behind him she could see a man on guard in the corridor, watching them, his eyes glittering in the torchlight. ‘The truth is, I . . . I have been sent to fetch you before the king.’

Eloise stared, not quite understanding. ‘Fetch me before the king?’ she repeated slowly.

‘Yes, my lady.’ Hugh stood back, indicating that she should rise and follow him. When she stayed seated, looking back at him in total confusion, he cleared his throat and said more hoarsely, ‘His Majesty the king bids you attend him in his privy dining chamber at once. Come, I will show you the way.’

Glancing uncertainly at Mary, she rose and curtseyed. ‘As you wish, sir.’

As Eloise passed the guard, she could have sworn he leered at her. Averting her eyes, she followed Hugh without a word. But inwardly she was going mad with worry. She had thought to be safer at court as Lady Wolf, protected by her husband’s powerful name and influence. Instead, she had not seen him all day, and now she was to face the king alone.

Why would King Henry summon her to his privy dining chamber? What had she said or done to merit such an order? She thought back over her testimony and was lost for an explanation. Perhaps he merely wished her to confirm that the queen was innocent, as she had stated. But His Majesty could have read her testimony himself; he did not need her to be present, to admit her misgivings to his face.

Hugh Beaufort strode along the corridors as though she were not there, making it hard for her to keep up. She thought he seemed angry with her, but could not be certain.