The Falls of Erith (32 page)

“But
I am afraid.”

“I
know,” he kissed her again. “But you must trust me. I would never intentionally
hurt you.”

She
began to sob softly and he kissed her strongly at the same time he thrust into
her.   She yelped at the first thrust, gasping slightly at the second.  By the
third and final thrust, her tears had faded and she simply groaned.  She could
hear Dallas breathing heavily, his lips on her cheek.  When he withdrew
completely, she felt a distinct sense of relief. But he was suddenly thrusting
into her again and she sucked in her breath sharply as he began to move deep
within her.

There
was no real pain, only a sense of fullness. Within the first several thrusts,
she forgot her fear and embarrassment completely.  Whatever he was doing sent
wild sensations throughout her body, sensations that caused her to writhe and
spasm.   She was vaguely aware of her arms around his neck, holding on to him
as he beat a sensual rhythm against her hips.  Somewhere in the movement, she
began to move with him.  It felt better when she did.  Some exquisite sensation
was blossoming in her loins and she liked the sparks she felt when she ground
her pelvis against his.   When she figured out that the more she rubbed against
him, the more sparks flew, she began to grind her hips madly against his body.

Dallas
had one arm round her, one hand on her left breast.   Brooke was concentrating
on making sparks fly as she rubbed herself against him in rhythm to his
thrusting.  Suddenly, her entire body tightened and a burst sensation rippled
through her loins.  It was the most amazing thing she had ever experienced.  As
she gasped with her first climax, Dallas released himself deep within her
beckoning body.  Brooke felt him shudder.  But he continued to move, continued
to touch her, not wanting the experience to end. Truth be told, Brooke didn’t
want it to end, either. 

What
had started out as a totally fearful concept had become the most miraculous
experience of her young life.  Brooke laid there, her arms around her husband,
staring up at the ceiling and struggling to absorb what had just happened. She
could not seem to wrap her mind around it.  All she knew was that it was
nothing as she had feared. 

“Are
you well?” Dallas’ soft question filled the air.

Her
gaze moved to his handsome face as he loomed over her. 
He has such nice
eyes,
she thought.  “Aye,” she replied.

“I
did not hurt you?”

She
shook her head. “Nay.”

“Good.”

He
gazed at her, his eyes drifting over the delicate shape of her eyes and the way
her blond hair brushed across her face.  He would have liked to have lain with
her all day but he knew that time was growing short.  They had accomplished
their task, which had turned out to be far less of a task and far more of a
pleasure.  He pushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes.

“We
should get dressed and finish packing.”

He
started to move but she tightened her arms and legs about him; he was still
embedded in her. “Do we have to?”

He
looked at her, surprised.  Then he burst out in soft laughter. ”You would
rather stay here?”

Her
cheeks flushed scarlet and she unwound her arms, her legs.  He could see that
he had offended her and his grip on her tightened as she tried to squirm away
from him.

“Lady
Aston,” he murmured against her flushed, angry cheek. “I would give all that I
have to remain here with you for the day.  But I fear your step father and
mother will become impatience awaiting us.”

She
eyed him, somewhat appeased. “You will stop laughing at me every time I ask a
question.”

He
shook his head, his lips nuzzling her jaw line. “It was laughter of pleasure, I
assure you.  I am pleased that you thought so much of our experience that you
would not want to end it.”

Her
anger fled in lieu of shy eagerness. “Can we do it again sometime? I mean, if
you wish it?”

His
eyebrows drew together in feigned outrage. “Good lord, lass, I will wish it
every day for the rest of my life. Sometimes more than once a day. Was it that
good for you?”

She
nodded once, too embarrassed to elaborate.  He laughed softly again and kissed
her on the cheek. “Very well, Lady Aston.  We will do it as much as you wish,
whenever you wish.  I will not protest in the least.”

She
refused to look at him, making a face when his laughter grew stronger. 
Withdrawing himself from her tight little body, he made sure to kiss her face,
both breasts, her belly, and the inside of her right thigh as he pushed himself
off of her.  There was a slight amount of blood on her skin but certainly
nothing shattering.   He didn’t mention it to Brooke, however; he simply
collected her pantalets and shift for her.  She took them in silence, pulling
her clothing on swiftly while he pulled on his own clothing.  By the time she
had her shift and shoes on, he had on most of his mail.  The entire time, they
had dressed in silence.  When their eyes finally met, they smiled at each other
warmly.   Brooke flushed to the roots of her hair.

“Do
you need any help to finish packing up?” he asked.

She
shook her head.  He collected his armor from where he had set it down, took her
chin in one hand, and kissed her on the cheek.

“I
shall be outside if you need me,” he said quietly. “I will send Norman and
Edgar to finish packing my things.”

“I
can do it for you,” she said eagerly. “I mean, shouldn’t I? As your wife?”

He
smiled faintly. “Of course you should. How stupid of me.”

She
returned his smile, looking rather pleased, and he winked at her as he quit the
tent.

Brooke
stood there for several long moments after he had gone, reflecting on the past
several minutes.  Warmth filled her, making her limbs soft and mushy.  She
truly didn’t know if she could even walk, but walk she did. She had to.  She
had to pack her husband’s things so that they could return to Erith.

Her
husband
. Every
time she thought of Dallas, she couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

True
to his word, d’Aughton returned by mid-day with a surgeon from
Grange-on-Sands.  The physic was a fairly young man, driving an old cart pulled
by an old donkey.  Even though in years, the man was not over thirty, he
walked, acted and looked like someone much older.  In his dirty gray robes and
mussy brown hair, he pulled his donkey to a halt and looked curiously around
the camp.

Graehm
and Dallas helped the physic secure his beast and collect his bags while Niclas
remained standing next to his charger. Although he had fulfilled his promise,
he wasn’t sure if he was welcome.

“How
is d’Uberville?” he asked Dallas.

Dallas
handed the bag he had collected to Graehm and instructed the man to take the
physic to Geoff immediately. He waited until the two men were out of earshot
before turning to the big black knight.

“Worse,”
he said evenly. “His attempt to defend the lady from your abduction attempt
worsened his injuries.  He’s been coughing up blood all morning.”

Niclas
didn’t show the guilt he was feeling. He remained quite unemotional. “I am
sorry for that, then.  But this physician comes highly recommended. He should
be able to help.”

Dallas
didn’t reply; his gaze lingered on the man a moment before turning back to
camp.  Niclas watched him walk away, knowing there was no longer any reason for
him to be here.  He had completed his task. 

Consigning
d’Uberville to his fate, he turned his steed for home.

***

On
the road for the past hour, the mercenary army traveling back to Erith was
moving slowly for Geoff’s sake; the physic that de Aughton had brought from
Sands-on-Grange had recommended a very slow pace and Braxton took the man at
his word.  Gray sat on the wagon bed beside Geoff, monitoring his condition;
the knight had responded to the surgeon’s treatment enough so that he was
somewhat stable and it had been decided to move him back to Erith for a measure
of permanent shelter and protection. 

Gray
sat beside the knight diligently, watching every move and listening carefully
to every sound.  She was sorry they hadn’t brought the physic with them,
fearful that she wouldn’t be skilled enough to aid Geoff is something went
horribly wrong.   Oddly, Braxton didn’t travel with a surgeon and most of his
men were surgeons unto themselves; they could all stitch wounds and repair
broken bones to a certain degree, including Braxton himself.  So Gray was,
essentially, on her own.

Braxton
rode beside the wagon, just a few feet from her.  He was in full armor, his
visor lowered, but every so often his helmed head would turn to her and she
would catch his movement, turning to smile at him.  She could not see his face
beneath the visor but knew he was smiling back.  It made her warm and giddy
inside, but truth be told, it all still seemed like a dream.  In a few short
days she had met and married a man whom was very quickly becoming everything to
her and at her age, she never imagined she would be so fortunate.  But
fortunate she was and she was deeply thankful.

Another
figure capturing her attention had been her daughter.  The young woman rode on
the rear of the wagon bed along with Edgar but there had, remarkably, been no
harsh words between them.  In fact, Brooke seemed very distracted when she
realized that it was more than likely because Dallas was riding a few feet
behind her.  He, too, was in full armor with his shield slung and his visor
lowered.  Gray couldn’t see his face.  Having not talked to her daughter since
last night, she had no idea what had transpired between the newlyweds. 
Focusing on Braxton, she motioned him near her.

“Braxton,
look at Brooke,” Gray said softly.  “Does she look upset to you?”

Braxton’s
helmed head turned in the young lady’s direction. “I cannot see her face. Why?
Is she upset?”

Gray
shrugged. “I do not know,” she said quietly. “She has barely said a word to me
all morning. Have you spoken with Dallas?”

“Not
since this morning.”

“Do
you suppose things are not well between them?”

“If
things are not, you must let them work it out.”

She
sighed, turning to face forward. “I was not attempting to interfere. But Brooke
is my daughter and.…”

“And
Dallas is her husband,” Braxton cut her off. He flipped up his visor and looked
at her, although not unkind. “You have your own husband to worry over, my lady.
That is where your focus should be.”

She
fought off a grin. “Is that so? And when has my focus not been completely and
utterly upon you, my lord?”

He
smiled at her.  “Never.  You are my devoted angel.”

She
smiled shyly, a gesture that enchanted him.  Then her smile faded as her amber
gaze fell on the road ahead.  “What do you intend to do if de Clare is still at
Erith?”

His
own smile faded and he too turned his attention forward. “Offer them the
hospitality of Erith, of course,” he said evenly. “But it is now Dallas’ keep;
that is his decision.”

She
gazed at him, his strong profile through the limited view of the visor.
“Braxton, I am afraid.”

“Of
what?”

“Of
these Houses that my mother has invited to vie for Brooke’s hand. What if they
become enraged because she has already married? Erith cannot withstand a siege.
There is nothing to hold back the enemy.”

He
looked at her, then. “You forget that you have the army of Braxton de Nerra
within your walls. Only a fool would knowingly attack me.”

“But
you have less than two hundred men.  De Clare, and others, have hundreds.”

“One
of my men is worth ten of someone else’s. Do you have so little faith in me?”

“Of
course not,” she said softly, putting a hand on his armored arm. “I did not
mean to insult you.  I know your reputation is great.”

He
grunted. “Great indeed. If anyone should be afraid, it should be de Clare.” 
With that, he turned his head and emitted a shrill whistle from between his
teeth.  Dallas spurred his charger forward, kicking up rocks and dirt as he did
so.  One rock flipped up and hit Brooke on the face, just below her left eye.
She screamed and threw her hand over her cheek.

The
sound brought everyone running.  Gray was already climbing from the wagon bench
back into the bed in an attempt to reach her daughter. Dallas, having reined
his horse around at the sound of his wife’s cry, was joined by Braxton.
Everyone was racing to her side.  Brooke sat on the open wagon bed and wept.

Gray
was the first to reach her.  “Let me see, sweetheart.”

She
peeled her daughter’s hand away from her face to find a bloody cut underneath.
Brooke continued to weep as Gray looked around for something to wipe the blood
away with, taking an offered strip of boiled cloth from the wagon driver as he
yanked it from one of the bags at his feet.