Always by Lynsay Sands
She felt cool air hit the back of her legs as he lifted her skirt to free his head, then the garment fell back into place and he raised her up and set her down upon her feet. She was facing away from him. "You are not to climb that ladder again."
Rosamunde nodded in understanding, but he did not release her and step away, as she had expected. Instead his hands moved to clasp the ladder before her, encompassing her in the cocoon of his body as he leaned forward. Nuzzling the side of her head, he found her ear with his lips. "Do you understand?"
"A-aye," Rosamunde murmured breathlessly as he began to nibble at the lobe of her ear, his body pressing against her from behind. "I am not to climb the ladder again."
"You smell so sweet," he whispered, and Rosamunde tipped her head to the side, her hands closing over his on the ladder as he kissed and nibbled her neck. "You taste sweet, too," he whispered, licking her neck teasingly, his hands slipping out from beneath hers. They moved to catch her upper arms, pulling her back against him, then slid around the front of her to capture her breasts, to hold and palm and caress them through her clothing. "Turn your head more. Give me your lips."
Doing as he said, Rosamunde turned and tilted her head, her mouth opening eagerly under his. He found and devoured her lips and tongue hungrily, catching her groan as he pinched her hardened nipples through the cloth of her gown. She was desolate when his hands left her breasts.
She gasped into his mouth, her kiss becoming more frantic as his hand brushed down over her stomach until it found and grazed the apex of her thighs. He urged her backward with that touch until her bottom nudged his front, and Rosamunde was so distracted, she did not notice how he worked at her lacing with his other hand, until she felt his rough fingers suddenly catch and caress one naked breast.
Stiffening, she pulled her lips free and glanced down at herself, shocked to see her bodice gaping open and her breasts spilling out, one naked in the dim light of the stables and the other covered only by his hand. His other hand had slid from between her legs and was drawing her skirt up, baring her calves.
"Husband?" She grabbed at the hand tugging her gown upward in a feeble attempt to stop its actions. "Husband, stop!" she cried with dismay. "We are in the stables. Someone could enter at any--" She choked on the last word, stiffening against him as he finally got her skirt high enough to snake his hand beneath it. Nudging a knee between hers from behind, he urged her legs apart to allow his fingers to slide up her inner thigh to the center of her.
"No one is going to enter. Smithy will not allow anyone in here until I say so," he assured her quietly.
"Aye, but 'tis full daylight," she pointed out weakly, arching into his touch despite her protests.
"So?" He laughed breathlessly into her ear, pressing himself against her bottom even as she arched back into him.
Rosamunde hesitated, then blurted, "Bishop Shrewsbury said 'twas a sin in the Church's eyes to conduct marital relations in full day--"
A muttered curse from Aric, and the way he stopped all caresses and seemed to freeze behind her, made her pause and bite her lip unhappily. Then she heard him release a pent-up breath against her neck.
"Wife."
"Aye?" she asked uncertainly.
"We have already been through all of this," he reminded her gently, the hand at her breast beginning to caress her again.
"We have?" she asked uncertainly, closing her eyes as he pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck.
"Aye. During the wedding ceremony you vowed to obey me. A vow you made before God, your father, and witnesses. Did you not?"
Eyes closing as her nipple tightened beneath his touch, Rosamunde nodded silently.
"Well." Releasing her abruptly, he caught her up in his arms. Carrying her to the small mound of hay in front of Black's stall, he laid her upon it, then straightened to peer down at her as he quickly removed his sword belt and set it on the ground. "I say that we are going to make love in full daylight in the stables, and I order..." Dropping to his knees in the straw, he urged her legs apart and eased between them, then lowered himself to cover her lower body with his. His stomach resting on her pelvis, he peered down at her breasts where they lay at face level, and collected them in his hands before bending his mouth to kiss one rosy peak.
"And I order you to enjoy it," he finished against her flesh before sucking it into his mouth to swirl with his tongue. He watched her face as he did this, taking in the way her mouth opened and her eyes closed; then he withdrew his mouth and waited for her eyes to slowly open. "What say you to that, wife?"
Swallowing the smile that wanted to curve her lips at his pleased grin, Rosamunde nodded with credible solemnity and murmured, "As you wish, my lord."
Chuckling, Aric climbed farther up her body until he reached her lips, then kissed her with a passion that curled her toes inside her sandals. Slipping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back just as passionately. At last, he pulled his lips away with a gasp and rested his forehead on hers. Eyes closed, he tried to catch his breath, then shook his head and opened his eyes.
"I need you."
Rosamunde's eyes widened slightly at the words. He said it apologetically and so seriously. Slipping a hand between them, she found the top of his brais and slid her hand inside. His desire was big and hard against her fingers.
"Aye, you do," she murmured solemnly and he gave a short laugh, his eyes squeezing shut as her fingers closed around him and squeezed. He caught her hand, then tugged it out of the way and quickly pulled his brais down in the front. Tugging her skirt out of the way then, he slid a hand up her thighs, relieved to find her warm and wet for him.
"I am sorry. I cannot wait," he said with a gasp, guiding himself into her.
Rosamunde made no protest, shifting and arching slightly to accept him, then wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him closer, driving him deeper inside. Finally he was all the way in. Then she reached up to caress his cheek, drawing his gaze and his attention to her.
"Tell me what to do to pleasure you," she whispered.
Except for their first time together, he had always kissed and caressed her to the point of such feverish desire that by the time he entered her, she simply arched and thrust blindly beneath him. She had reacted and responded to his body and touch. This time there was more. Now she wanted to pleasure him, to feed his hunger.
Aric stilled at her expression, his heart fluttering. She wished to please him. She was interested in sharing this experience, both taking and giving. Delia would never have done so. Oh, aye, Delia had enjoyed sex--he'd known that long ere he had caught her in bed with another. But she had been a demanding and shrewish lover--and despite his attention to her pleasure, she had never once seemed to consider his.
"Husband?"
Aric drew his mind away from his thoughts to peer at his wife. She awaited his instructions, her face soft and questioning. Delia had always stripped away her clothes slowly, teasing him with the slow revelation of her body, then posed herself in bed seductively--but that had been the end of her effort.
And after, she would lie still, her eyes closed, her expression as flat and unchanging as a portrait, her body as limp and cold as an empty gown. She would never have shared with him the true passion Rosamunde often did. She never would have asked how she should proceed to pleasure him. Rosamunde, with her untaught passions and genuine enthusiasm, was much more than he ever could have dreamed of.
Dear God, he had made a narrow escape, he realized suddenly. He had nearly been tied to Delia for a lifetime. Night after night of her cynical little smiles and selfish little moues, her warm, willing body in his bed but her uncaring eyes staring through him. Suddenly the day he had walked in on her and Glanville in the stables--what before had seemed the worst day of his life at the time--seemed like the luckiest.
"Aric?" Rosamunde asked uncertainly, her eyes widening in surprise as he let loose a full, robust laugh of pure pleasure.
"Rosamunde."
"Aye," she
"Just being yourself pleasures me immeasurably," he told her softly, then bent to press a gentle kiss to her surprised lips, her nose, her eyes. His passion still alive, but no longer desperate, he began to kiss and caress her, his teeth grazing her breasts, his tongue tasting them, his lips suckling them.
Rosamunde clasped his head in her hands, watching him cherish her body with a confusion that slowly turned to sultry desire. Her body began to move beneath his, pulling him into her. She felt herself squeezing around his manhood, and her breathing grew shallow as her heartbeat sped up.
He suddenly rolled onto his back, she automatically went with him, pressing her hands into his shoulders to lever herself upward until she was astride him. Then she shifted her gaping gown out of the way and covered his hands with her own. He reached up to run his hands across her chest, and she suddenly felt deliciously wanton with her hair wild around her face, her eyes sleepy with desire, her lips swollen from his kisses.
"Show me how to please you," she whispered, shifting against him impatiently.
Smiling, he lifted his hands to her hips to direct her movements, his eyes darkening when her hands replaced his and she cupped her own breasts. Her eyes closing and her tongue darting out to wet her lips, she followed his guidance and moved against him, taking him in, then sliding apart from him. Keeping one hand on her hips to encourage her, he slid the other between them, found her womanhood and caressed it.
She groaned then, her head tipping back, her hands covering her breasts completely and squeezing them as she urgently moved against him. Excited by her enjoyment, Aric released her hip and cupped the back of her head, drawing her face down until he could kiss her. His tongue pressed through her lips and thrust into her mouth even as he bent his pelvis, thrusting into her. Then he tumbled her onto her back again.
Catching her knees and pulling them up slightly, he used them to brace himself, and began to thrust into her in earnest. He watched her face as she began to twist her head back and forth in the straw in that way he liked, a high, crooning wail slipping from her lips as she arched and shuddered and bucked beneath him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
"Open your eyes. Look at me," Aric gasped and her eyes blinked open with confusion, focusing on him fuzzily. He could see her question, but simply held her gaze as he drove into her; he could not explain that he wanted to see that she was here with him, and that she knew who it was who pleasured her.
"You were right, my lord."
Aric blinked his eyes open slowly and peered down at Rosamunde. He was on his back in the straw trying to recover from their lovemaking. She lay cuddled next to him, her head resting on his shoulder as she ran her fingers lightly over his tunic, caressing him through the cloth. She didn't appear to need to recuperate, he noted.
"Of course I was right," he agreed, then after a hesitation asked, "What about?"
Chuckling, Rosamunde tipped her head to grin at him. "Why, everything, of course," she teased. "But I was referring to wearing a gown in the stables."
"Hmmm." Aric frowned slightly as she returned to absently caressing him. "You do not find it inconvenient?"
"Well." She drew the word out, her fingers gliding teasingly down his shirt toward his brais. "Mayhap for some things like climbing the ladder and such. But for things like pleasuring my husband, a gown is definitely more convenient." She gave him a wicked grin. "Do you not think?"
Aric started to smile in response, then frowned instead as the truth behind her words sank in. Her gown had made this brief tryst incredibly easy. And fast. Whereas her brais...He was distracted from his thoughts by Rosamunde standing and brushing out her gown. His gaze slid unhappily from her to the ladder, and he frowned.
"What were you doing climbing up that ladder?" He had asked earlier, of course, but he had also distracted her from answering him. Now he was curious to know what had been so all-fired important that she had gone traipsing up the ladder in a gown, rather than waiting for Smithy to finish with the wagon and come inside to do it for her.
"Oh." She frowned up at the loft overhead. "Well, that bale." She gestured to the mound of hay he was now lying in. "It fell out of the loft and I was climbing up to be sure that the others were secure."
Sitting up, Aric peered blankly down at the straw around him. "This is all from a bale that fell out of the loft?"
"Aye."
She was suddenly very intent upon her lacings, and Aric found his eyes narrowing on her suspiciously. "Where were you when it fell?"
Rosamunde grimaced. "Under it at first, but I managed to get out of the way in time."
"Damn!" Surging to his feet, he pulled his brais up. "Why did you not tell me this right away?"
"Well, I did try," she muttered, a bit exasperated as he moved to the ladder.
"Well, you should have tried harder."
Rosamunde rolled her eyes, but remained silent as he drew his sword, climbed quickly into the loft, and disappeared. She heard him curse a moment later, and moved closer. "Are you all right, husband?"
There was silence for a moment, long enough for Rosamunde to start up the ladder; then Aric's head poked over the side to glare down at her. "What are you doing? Get down."
"Well, pray forgive me for being concerned about you," she snapped shortly, returning to the ground.
"Someone was up here," Aric told her irritably, starting down the ladder.
"Oh?" Rosamunde's irritation slid away, replaced with surprise.
"Aye. There is a nest where they were lying--and it is still warm," he told her grimly, turning to glance around the stables. He frowned as he saw that the stable doors were open a crack. Smithy had closed the doors all the way. He was positive of that.
"Surely you are mistaken, husband? Why, there is nowhere for anyone to go from up there but down here. And we would have seen him."
"We were a bit distracted at one point, as I recall," he said, almost sorry he had said the words when she flushed with embarrassment then paled with shame.
"You think that someone was up there, but climbed down the ladder and slid out while we were...But then they saw--"
"My lord!" Smithy's voice came from outside.
"What now?" Aric muttered impatiently and strode down the aisle to the door, tugging it open with irritation to scowl at the stablemaster. "What is it?"
"A messenger has arrived," the man murmured, intimidated by Aric's expression. "Bishop Shrewsbury here"--he gestured toward the man beside him, obviously eager to direct Aric's attention and anger elsewhere--"says--"
"One of Richard's messengers has arrived," the cleric announced. Rosamunde moved to join her husband in the doorway.
Sighing, Aric glanced toward his wife, then took her arm and started forward, obviously not willing to leave her behind in the stables now that he suspected someone had been there. But he had barely taken a step when he paused to whirl back upon Smithy. "Did you see anyone leave the stables after I entered?"
Smithy's eyebrows rose slightly. "Nay, my lord. But then, I wasn't really watching for anyone to leave. I was..." His voice died as Aric waved his explanations away and turned back toward the keep.
Rosamunde allowed him to tug her behind him distractedly, her mind fretting over the fact that someone had been up in the loft. It was all terribly upsetting. First, that meant someone might actually have thrown that bale down at her on purpose--though why anyone should do that was beyond her. It would have knocked her down most assuredly, but probably wouldn't have given her but a bruise or two. Unless she had hit her head. But even that would be unlikely to hurt her seriously. And then she most assuredly would have checked the loft, or had Smithy do so. Then whoever it was would have been caught.
Nay, it must have been an accident. The someone up in the loft must have accidentally knocked the bale out.
Of course, that left the question of who would have been up there and why, but there were any number of logical answers. Someone shirking thei
Rosamunde sighed to herself. None of that really mattered to her as much as the fact that there had been someone there, and that meant that they had seen her and Aric. How dreadfully embarrassing.
Aric paused suddenly in his headlong rush to the keep, and Rosamunde glanced about to see that they were at the foot of the steps. Aric had paused to address his friend Robert.
"Aric. I was just about to come looking for you. A messenger has arrived--"
"From Richard," Aric finished, leaving Robert blinking at him in surprise. "Aye, I know. Is my father inside with him?"
"Aye. We were both here when he arrived."
Nodding, Aric started up the stairs, dragging Rosamunde behind him and leaving Robert to follow.
"Ah, here he is now," Lord Burkhart announced as Aric entered the keep, headed for the trestle tables with Rosamunde still in tow. "Son, this is Lord Whittier. He comes from Richard."
"Lord Whittier," Aric greeted the man. "Nay, stay seated," he said as the man set his ale down and made as if to rise. "You must have had a long journey. I understand you have a message for me?"
"I have many messages for many lords." The man sighed, taking his drink in hand again and swallowing some. "I am one of many men Richard has dispatched in the last few days. We have been sent to inform his barons all over the land that the coronation shall be September third at Westminster Abbey. Each lord is required to present himself and pledge his fealty to his new king."
Chapter Sixteen
Rosamunde stepped out of the tent and peered around at the slumbering soldiers with relief. Like his men, Aric was still asleep, too, but she had certain personal needs that needed attending right away. She had considered waking him, but he was really such a grouchy-bones in the morning, the idea had not appealed to her.
Of course, had one of his men been awake and seen her, she would have had to wake her husband. Every single one of the men had been warned that she was not to go anywhere unattended, and if someone had to accompany her on her quick trip to find a handy bush, it would be Aric. There were just some things that only a husband, or another woman, need know about.