Conquering William (3 page)

Bending, he unlaced his boots and slid them off. Next, he removed his embroidered wedding surcoat and laid it across a nearby clothes chest. Clad in his chemise and breeches, he padded to the bed. Thank God, the fire had taken the worst of the chill. Alice had left plenty of space on the other side of the bed, and he climbed up beside her.

A soft noise escaped her, and she went even more rigid.

Dear God, give him patience. Even his large conceit felt dented. He lay on his side, propping his head on his hand. She had a neat profile with a slight upward tilt at the end of her nose. Pale, thick lashes fluttered as she stared upwards. Not a pretty face, but her pleasant features bore a faerie-like charm. A gleaming, thick braid lay against the white pillow.

William took the braid between his thumb and forefinger. Glorious, rich copper and the weight of the braid in his hand told him of its length and thickness. The ends curled around the tie holding it confined. “Your hair is red.”

“Aye.” The delicate line of her jaw hardened.

“And very lovely, it would seem.”

“Red hair is the devil’s hair,” she said.

The vehemence of her statement startled him. William knew many women who would lay down their lives for such beauty. “I beg your pardon.”

She growled and, finally, looked at him. The anger on her face left him wrong footed. “Red hair is the mark of a foul temper. Foul temper is the playground of the devil.”

God’s Bones, who had he married? So meek and silent beside him at dinner, cold as death lying in wait for him in their bed, and now glaring at him as if he were a hound of hell. “I think it is beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes on a huff. “My lord, there is no need for pretty words betwixt us. I am neither beautiful nor charming, but I am your wife. As such, we will lie together for the purpose of begetting a child. Can we please get to that part?”

Alice kept her stare level on Sir William sprawled beside her. He threw back his head and laughed loud enough it rang about the room, and her cheeks burned.

“Indeed.” He stilled, but his fine eyes still laughed at her.

Alice hadn’t meant to blurt it out in such a manner, but he unnerved her with his offers of food and wine and his conversation. In her experience, a wedding night went differently. The husband entered, disrobed, and climbed in beside you. After he clambered atop you, he did the necessary, and left. Her first husband had slept beside her, but he had not consummated the marriage. Her second groom had discovered her chastity to his delight, but stayed only long enough to see her rid of it. After that, he had visited her chamber a bare handful of times before the village whores had lured him away. Number three followed almost exactly in number two’s pattern. Strange, she never thought of them by name. Steven! Her last husband had been named Steven. John came before him, and the first, who could not bear to touch her, had been named William. Like this one. Two Williams, and both of them strange. This William lounged like a big cat beside her, head propped on his hand and amusement gleaming in his gaze.

“It is not that I do not appreciate your efforts to put me at my ease, but they are not necessary,” she said. He had made more of an effort than the others.

“I see.” He toyed with her hair, wrapping the curling ends around his forefinger. “Perhaps my efforts were for myself as well.”

“Oh.” She had not considered that. Men always seemed so much more comfortable in these situations. “Are they?”

“A little.” He smiled at her.

She wished to God he hadn’t. A beautiful man with his face in repose, but when he smiled—Lord above—it hit her as a small quiver in her belly and crept through her chest, snatching her breath.

“You see, my lady, having done this before, you have the advantage of experience.”

He could not mean…“You are a vir—?”

“Nay, my lady.” He tickled her brow with the ends of her hair. “Do not frown so fiercely. I do not claim chastity, merely new to the wedded state.”

Well, of course, a man such as he would not be pure. A great favorite with the ladies. She would do well to remember that. Once he had gotten her with child, she could turn a blind eye to his activities outside of their wedding chamber.

He wrapped her braid around one large fist. “I meant what I said about your hair. It is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She rather liked her hair, despite Sister’s insistence it be bound.

“Now.” Pursing his full lips, he laid her braid on her shoulder. “How best to carry on? Should we have some conversation?”

“It is not needed.” Alice dragged her gaze away from his mouth. She had never seen a man with a mouth so finely wrought. Top lip firm and carved, resting above the much fuller pillow of his bottom lip. “I desire a child above all else. I know how they come about.”

“And yet you have born no children?”

“Nay.” They whispered of her barrenness through Tarnwych. If this husband could not give her a child, it would mean the worst. A dull pain throbbed below her breast. “I have not been so fortunate.”

“Do not be sad, my lady.” With soft fingers, he stroked her cheek. “I am entirely at your disposal.”

Alice nearly laughed. His tone was kind, but his eyes invited her to share the joke. Best to get the unpleasantness over with. After, she would light a candle in the chapel every morning and evening, beg the blessed Madonna to grant her dearest wish. “You may proceed.”

He laughed, a full-throated, deep rumble that shook the bed beneath her.

Alice knew not what to make of him. Did he not think her in earnest? “I made no jest.”

“Nay, indeed.” He sobered. “But I think we should get these out of their bindings first.” He drew first one arm and then the other over the linens and lay them beside her. “In case you should feel the need to touch,” he said. “This will prove far more useful.”

“I have never felt the need before.”

“I am quickly forming that opinion, my Alice.” He winked at her and gave her another of his wondrous smiles. “Perhaps you could unclench your fists at the same time.” He straightened her fingers and spread them on the furs. Leaning over her, he took the goblet from the chest beside her and drank before offering it to her. “This is thirsty work.”

Strangely enough, she did feel like a drink. Once or twice, when Sister absented herself from dinner, she had tried wine and rather liked it. William certainly appeared to enjoy wine. “Perhaps just a small sip.”

She raised herself on her elbows.

Evading her hands, William touched the cup to her lips, and she sipped. The rich, fruity flavor delighted her palate. “It does not taste like the wine I have tasted in the past.”

“That is because I bought this with me from Anglesea. My father has some of the finest wines in the land. Have another sip. Let it rest on your tongue for a moment. See if you can taste the blackberries.”

One sip was enough of a departure for her. Two seemed positively wanton. “I think not.”

“Not even for the blackberries?” He lifted a dark brow.

Two sips wouldn’t lead the way to hell. “For the blackberries, then.”

He put the goblet to her lips.

Alice sipped, resting the wine on her tongue. A little woody perhaps, with a hint of fruit, and then blackberries. “I taste them.”

His smile of approval made her glow warm inside. He put the goblet on the chest beside her and moved back to his side of the bed. Through her gown, he pressed warm against her side. She felt delicate, tiny beside him. Wood-hued skin, with a warmed spice scent teased her from the opening of his chemise. She had never seen any of her husbands naked. They had lifted her gown without removing more garments than necessary. Would William’s skin feel as hers, or rougher perhaps?

“You still do not look comfortable.” Pulling at the bedding, he tucked it about her waist. “Now I can see more of you.”

He mocked her, he must. “Why would you wish to do that?”

He studied her face. “Green.” He smoothed her eyebrow with his forefinger. “I could not see before, but I see now that your eyes are green. Like a pea.”

“A pea?” Alice had heard worse descriptions, but still, a pea.

“Pea-green.” He bent closer to her. “Or summer grass.” He seemed to consider her eyes for a long moment. “Nay, I have it. Your eyes are as green as a stagnant pond.”

Alice snorted. The man needed to work on his poetry. “And yours are blue.”

“As blue as?” He raised a dark brow.

“Blue.” Best get this nonsense done with. His constant study of her features made her squirm. The huge fire he’d built had made the room uncomfortably warm.

“You, my Alice, have no romance in your soul.” He tapped the edge of her nose. “But you do have the dearest little nose. I would compare it to something fantastical, but you, I would wager, would prefer I call it a pig snout.”

“Nay, I would not.” She’d never been teased, and a tiny giggle escaped before she could control it.

He grinned as if she had handed him the moon. “That is much better. Now I shall move on to your cheeks.”

“Please, spare me.” The soft brush of his fingers left a warm tingle in their wake. “I do not think I can bear any more of your sweet whispers.”

“Cream.” He brushed his nose against her cheek.

Whispering over her skin, the caress took Alice’s breath with it.

“Thick fresh cream for my pottage.”

She should pull away, but her limbs melted into the bed. Cloves. She named the spice that clung to his skin.

“I must discover if it tastes as delicious as it looks.” Hot lips brushed her cheek.

For an instant she forgot how to breathe.

“And it does,” he murmured. “Sweet and silky on my lips.”

“My lord—”

“William.” He nuzzled into her neck and trailed his lips along her jaw.

“William.” Her skin blazed in the path of his wicked mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Inventory.” He popped his head up. “Next we move to your mouth.”

“It is just a mouth.” Her lips seemed to swell and plump under his perusal. Dear Lord, what beset her? He had bewitched her with his glib words and soft touches. Wrapped her in the befuddling scent of warm skin and cloves, in the sultry length of his chest against her side.

“Never say so.” His gaze heated. “Mouths are never just anything. They are made for smiling. For laughter and whispers between lovers.” He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip. “For kissing.”

His mouth drew closer, and Alice’s belly tightened. He was going to kiss her. Her first kiss, and from a man so beautiful she had nearly wept when she first saw him. Yet, his intent expression spoke of desire, his desire to kiss her.

Large hands framed her cheeks, turning her toward his seeking lips.

Her fingers twitched against the bedding. She did want to touch, like he said she would, to discover if his dark hair felt as silky as it looked.

The first tentative brush of his mouth on hers left her wanting more. She curled her hands about his forearms, hewn, hard muscle and so warm.

His mouth returned to hers and lingered a moment longer. Wanting more was unthinkably base. Alice tightened her grip on his forearms.

“Aye, my Alice,” he whispered against her mouth. “Shall I kiss you or leave you?”

“I have never been kissed.” The confession slipped from her, mortifying her.

“Nay.” His face softened. “How is such a thing possible?”

She had not the courage to ask him to kiss her. The words clattered around in her mind, but if she voiced them, he might laugh. Or pull away from her in disgust.

“Let it be my honor to be the first to kiss you.” He angled his head, slanting his mouth over hers.

Alice yielded beneath the firm demand of his mouth. The way he took control of the kiss robbed her of all thought and let her sink deep into the sensation. The touch of his tongue to her lip shocked her.

“Let me taste.” His thumbs worked her jaw open, admitting his tongue into her mouth.

Alice froze. She had never heard of such a thing. His tongue slid slick against hers. The strange intimacy disconcerted her, but not enough to stop it. An odd thing, to be sure, but he tasted of wine and something else—musk and cinnamon.

His groan rumbled through her. He lay close over her, but not on top of her. She could move at any time and dislodge him.

Demanding more of her, he deepened the kiss.

Alice gave in to his questing lips. Allowed him to explore her mouth with his tongue. Heat wound through her belly. It crept up her ribcage to the peak of her breasts. She was both unable to move and sparkling alive at the same time. Thus far, William provided her most enjoyable and intriguing consummation.

* * * *

Finally, Alice responded to his kiss and triumph surged through William. Tentative at first, but growing in confidence almost as fast as his rod thickened. Her flavor flamed through him, rich, sweet, and a touch tart. Her full breasts pressed against his chest in a revelation he intended to explore with his hands and mouth. Lady Alice hid a lush little form beneath her armor of linens.

The chamber door swung open setting the taper flames flickering. The old nun stood in the doorway, the hallway light shadowing her face. “I brought water for you to cleanse yourself.”

His voice to tell her to get out stuck in his throat. Too late. Beneath him, Alice stiffened, wriggling to escape him.

“You are still here,” the nun said. “I shall return later.”

Too stuffed full of lust to trust his voice, William flung himself onto his back. “Do not.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“You will not be required later.” William clenched his fists. The need to shove them through a wall raced through him.

Beside him, Alice returned to a corpse. If it weren’t so blasphemous, he would damn that nun to hell. So close to melting his icy bride and sinking into her wet heat. Another night then, and with no nun interrupting them.

His lady wanted him for stud, did she? Saw no other use for him but his seed. What a dreadful waste. He liked children, was very fond of them. More than children, though, he enjoyed women. Every woman presented a new mystery to be explored; the unique scent that clung to her, the brush of his hand upon her skin, the taste of her. With one kiss, Alice had become his new favorite uncharted land.