Serpent (21 page)

Carefully, he pulled her legs apart and settled his big body between them. Then, he lowered himself down onto her torso.

“So that I could do this,” he whispered.

His hot, wet mouth came to bear on a tender nipple, suckling firmly, and Penelope let out a groan of both shock and ecstasy. Something was unleashed in Bhrodi now; his movements were firmer, quicker, and his hands fondled her full breasts as he suckled her nipples into taut pellets. When his hands weren’t on her breasts, they were moving over her body, feeling her silken skin and arousing her in the process.

Overwhelmed, Penelope bucked and groaned beneath him as he worked her breasts, feeding from one to the other. She had such beautiful breasts, and an exquisitely beautiful body, and when his right hand moved to the fluff of dark curls between her legs, some primal
impulse in Penelope told her to open her legs wide to him. She did out of sheer instinct and he stroked her gently at first, realizing that she was already quite prepared for his body to enter hers. To make it easier on her, he inserted a finger into her.

Penelope gasped at the sensual intrusion, drawing her knees up as he thrust first one and then two fingers into her, mimicking the lovemaking they would soon be doing. It was an introduction of sorts, a promise of things to come, and Penelope wasn’t afraid. She liked it very much, her body responding in ways she could have never imagined
. When Bhrodi finally withdrew his fingers and placed his big, throbbing manhood at her threshold, Penelope didn’t react other than to open her legs wider. It seemed like the right thing to do and she was no longer afraid of what was to come. So far, she liked it very much. She wanted more.

Bhrodi gave her more as he thrust into her, seating himself fully
upon entry because she was so wet and relaxed. It was as if her body was made for him, accommodating him, and he realized without a doubt that this was the most exquisite coupling he’d ever known. There was something magnetic and beauteous and exciting about Penelope. The past few days had seen such a remarkable change in his outlook on life and in how he viewed her, his new wife. At first, he hadn’t even wanted her but now, she belonged to him completely and he would mark her, a more delicious chore he could not imagine.

Penelope gasped as Bhrodi thrust into her and for a moment, there was a brief flash of pain as her body became accustomed to the intrusion. But the discomfort was quickly gone as he began to move within her, thrusting steadily in and out of her body as his mouth suckled her breasts and his hands fondled her buttocks.
Her entire body was experiencing a delight of sensations as his thrusts began to build a sensitive friction between her legs. She could feel it low in her belly, blossoming, reacting every time he moved within her.

The harder and faster he thrust, the greater the sensation until it suddenly exploded and ripples of bliss cascaded throughout her body
. At the same time, she felt Bhrodi give one final great thrust and he grunted, whispering
“caria”
upon his groans of pleasure. Her body, reacting to his, exploded again in a lesser burst of bliss, but still one that sent her limbs to quivering. When his grunting subsided, he untied the bindings on her wrists and let her arms fall. Carefully, he gathered her up against him, his lips against her forehead.

“Are you well?” he whispered. “I did not hurt you, did I?”

Penelope was fairly certain she had swooned because he had to ask her twice before she was able to give him a coherent reply.

“I am well,” she murmured.

“I am glad to know that,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Was I gentle enough?”

“I believe so.”

“If I ever do anything that does not bring you pleasure, you will let me know.”

“I am sure you will know before I even have to tell you. I have a habit of reacting before speaking.”

“I might find a fist in my nose?”

“That is possible.”

He snorted softly. Reaching a long arm to the end of the bed, he pulled up a coverlet that had been carefully folded and tucked it in around them both. He still held Penelope tightly in his arms and was quite sure that he would never let her go. The woman had him completely enchanted and he felt such peace at the moment, more than he had felt in over two years. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel this way again, but somehow, it was different with her. It was more intense, a deeper edge of peace. That was the best way he could describe it. He didn’t see an English bride; he hadn’t in quite a while. All he saw was a woman who clearly overwhelmed him. As he pondered that thought, someone pounded very loudly on the chamber door.

“Bhrodi!”

Startled right off the bed, Bhrodi was up before he could draw another breath, moving for the door.

“Who comes?”
he demanded.

“Gwyl!” It was Gwyllim, yelling at the top of his lungs. “You must come!”

Bhrodi’s brow furrowed and he looked at Penelope, puzzled. She had the exact same expression he did; no fear, merely concern.

“Why?” Bhrodi hollered, hunting for his breeches. “What has happened?”

“An attack!” Gwyllim cried. “The English are under attack!”

Bhrodi had never moved so fast in his entire life
. Penelope moved faster.

⌘

By the time Bhrodi
and Penelope entered the great hall, it was utter bedlam. Bhrodi had tried to keep Penelope in the chamber but, being a trained knight, she wouldn’t remain behind, and most especially if her family was threatened. She threw on her shift and ran out before he could stop her, so he followed her out of the keep, watching her run in front of him with her careful hairstyle unraveling.

By the time they reached the great hall, it was a shocking sight; s
words were out, daggers were flashing, and the entire room was in upheaval. There was blood on the floors. Bhrodi turned to Penelope, putting his big hands on her arms in order to prevent her from charging into the room.

“Do not enter,” he commanded. “I do not want you injured. I want you to return to the keep, do you understand?”

Penelope was stricken. “But…!”

He gave her a brief shake, as if to emphasize his point. “Go back to the keep,” he told her. “I will not say this again.
Go
back
.”

With that,
Bhrodi charged in and started yelling, bellowing something in Welsh. Penelope had no idea what he was saying but whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be helping. Men were still fighting with swords, daggers, chairs, and anything else they could get their hands on. As she stood and watched, aghast, an entire bank of tallow candles went flying across the room and crashed into a group of men, spraying hot fat everywhere. Penelope could see her father at the far end of the hall, engaging in a sword fight with a broadsword that was not his own. Since it was a wedding feast, none of the English had been wearing armor or broadswords. They were therefore unarmed as the room was torn apart.

As much as Penelope wanted to charge in and join the fight, she knew she was in no condition to do so.
She was unarmed and it would be a stupid move. Therefore, in complete disobedience of her husband’s wishes, she turned on her heel and ran out into the bailey, heading for the English encampment against the northern wall and noting, as she drew closer, that her father’s foot soldiers were also in some kind of skirmish.

Something had happened, something serious enough so that the English were engaged on all fronts, and all Penelope could think was that it ha
d been an ambush. The English had been invited to a wedding under the guise of peace when, in fact, the Welsh had been planning to attack them all along. That was her warrior’s instinct talking. Surely there was no other alternative.

Furious
and frightened, she knew she had to make it to the fortified wagon where her possessions were, including her mail and her array of weapons. She didn’t have her broadsword but she had a myriad of other blades. Moreover, her father’s blade was more than likely in his tent, which had been guarded by her father’s personal guard, but there was no one near the tent at the moment and she ran into it, spying her father’s weaponry still in its frame. She rushed forward and grabbed the broadsword, yanking it from the frame as she bolted from the tent.

The fighting was over near the
northern edge of the encampment and her wagon seemed to be in the clear. She ran to it, throwing open the heavy fortified door and climbing inside. When she shut the door, she made sure to bolt it. She didn’t want to fall victim to a Welsh surprise.

It took her a little more than a minute to throw on a pair of leather breeches
, a snug undergarment that helped support her full breasts, and a heavier leather tunic. There was no time to don the heavy and cumbersome mail. The clothing she wore was part of the clothing stash her mother had denied her to wear now that she was married, carefully tucked away in the wagon. There were no available shoes for her but there was plenty of weaponry; opening up a compartment beneath one of the wagon benches, she pulled forth two daggers and a very sharp sword she had used before she had gotten her big broadsword. Collecting the weaponry, she grabbed her father’s broadsword and leapt from the wagon.

The chaos in the bailey had grown. She ran through groups of men, dodging through them with a big dagger in her hand. One man made a swipe at her and she planted her blade into his hand, listening to him howl. By the time she reached the great hall, there was a fire in one of the corners, creeping up the waddle and daub wall. Penelope looked at
it with some horror; she knew that once it reached the thatched roof, it would spread very quickly. Therefore, her mission was to find her parents and get them out of the hall. Dagger in hand, she plunged into the fight.

Penelope
engaged more men than she had expected to as she pushed through the room. One man received a slash to his face while the other received a stab to his arm. She could hear her father bellowing and she found him over near the feasting tables where all of the English had been sitting. Food was on the floor, drinks were spilled, and it was a general mess. William still had the unfamiliar broadsword and she raced in his direction.

“Papa!” she yelled. “Papa, your sword!”

William heard Penelope’s voice and, distracted, his gaze searched her out as she pushed through the battle. She was slashing and kicking all the way, a very tough young woman who was unafraid of a fight. He called to Jordan and Jemma, who were underneath the table with Tacey. The pregnant young woman was weeping hysterically as the turmoil went on around her.

“Penny is here!” he bellowed. “Jordan, go with her! Let her take you out of here!”

Penelope arrived and leapt onto the table, handing her father his beloved broadsword. Now, fully armed with his familiar weapon, William could do serious damage. He yelled to Paris, who was several feet away and doing battle with the only thing he had on him, a dirk. When Paris took his eyes off his opponent to look at William, the man tossed the confiscated broadsword to him. Now Paris was properly armed and his opponent went down quickly.

“Penny!” William commanded. “Remove your mother and aunt out of here!”

Penelope was battling with a soldier who had come at her. She sliced him in the chest with her dagger and kicked him in the face to send him to the ground.

“I cannot!” she said, kicking another man who came at her. “There are too many of them to fight off between here and the entry!”

William had to admit she might be correct; there was a sea of battling men and, for the moment, the women were safe underneath the table. But
only
for the moment; he could see Paris and Kieran fighting for their lives while Scott, Troy, and Patrick were beating down several Welshmen. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the table was compromised as well. His sons Thomas and Edward were also in mortal combat while Kevin and Apollo seemed to have their men under control. At least, that was what William thought until he saw Kevin gored through the torso by a Welshman who came up behind him. As he watched, Kevin fell to his knees and Patrick, close by, rushed to assist him. The situation was going from bad to worse.

“Where is your husband?” William bellowed.