The White Lord of Wellesbourne (24 page)

She joined in his laugher. “How
could I? The woman basically told me that I am a brood mare. I am not sure how
to respond.”

Matthew cradled her, the falling
rain reflecting in his blue eyes. “You are most certainly not a brood mare. But
an heir would not be unappreciated. Besides, the fun is in the practice.”

Her cheeks grew warm.  Though
bodily she was no longer a maiden, in her mind, she was still relatively innocent.

“We shall see.” She pulled
herself gently out his embrace. “Shall we go back inside? I am famished.”

He took her by the elbow, guiding
her towards the door. “My aunt wants babies before we leave this house. That
doesn’t give us much time.  I think we should go practice instead of eating.”

“Matthew!” she scolded softly,
blushing furiously as he laughed. “Be quiet. Someone will hear you.”

He grabbed her just inside the
doorway. It was dark and chilly, the only light from the gray skies outside the
door.  His blue eyes bore into her.

“I doubt there is anyone in this
house that believes I have not yet consummated this marriage,” he growled. “But
if there is anyone foolish to think that I have not yet taken what belongs to
me, then God have mercy. One only has to look at us to know that this marriage,
however short it has been, agrees with us both.”

His warmth and closeness made her
giddy, her heart thumping loudly against her ribs. She was sure he could hear
it. “It does, doesn’t it?” she whispered, watching him nod. “But… well, I was
wondering one thing.”

“What is that?”

She made a face as she thought
about how she would phrase her concern. “It is my understanding that women;
that is, some women, wear a wedding ring to signify that they are, in fact,
married. Would it be too much to ask for a small one?”

Gazing into her lovely face,
Matthew began to feel the familiar guilt creeping into his veins.  But instead
of keeping his thoughts to himself about it, he found himself telling her. “You
must forgive me for being so poorly planned for this marriage,” he said. “I
never even thought to buy you a ring.”

“If you feel strongly about it,
you do not have to.”

“I feel strongly that I have been
a fool about this entire situation, but you already know that.  I must see the
king on the morrow but when I am finished, I will take you to the Street of the
Jewelers in London and buy you any ring you wish.”

She smiled. “Truly?”

He kissed her on the tip of her
nose. “Truly.”

“But what about you?”

“What
about
me?”

“Men have been known to wear
wedding rings as well. Will you not wear one?”

Three days ago, she would have
never asked him such a question. But today saw an entire differently situation
and she felt comfortable asking him. He paused a moment, thoughtfully, before
slowly nodding his head.

“If you wish it.”

“Only if you do.”

His easy smile spread quickly
across his face. “How could I not? Every man in London will know I have married
the most beautiful woman in the land.”

Her smile, oddly, faded as she
continued to look up at him. “And that is another question that has been on my
mind. What if I wasn’t beautiful? What if I was the horrible hag you had
expected? Would you still wear one? Or do you only wear it because I am
beautiful and you want to show everyone how well you married?”

It was an astute query; he should
have expected it. She was not only lovely, she was intelligent, and seeing his
quick change of heart about their marriage over the past few days, she should
have rightly wondered to the cause.  It made him feel shallow. Perhaps he was,
but there was more to it than that.

 “Mayhap that would have been the
truth the day I met you,” he admitted quietly. “But over the past few days I
have come to see that your beauty is not only on the outside, it runs very deep
within. Physical beauty isn’t much without the beauty of soul to go with it and
you, my lady, have both. When I say you are beautiful, I mean that you are
beautiful everywhere. I told you that I believed you to be a lady of good
character. I wasn’t wrong.”

Once again, he managed to say the
correct thing.  She felt foolish for even questioning him.  “May I say, then,
that I am very proud to be Lady Wellesbourne.”

“And I am very proud to be your
husband.”

It was a sweet moment. She
chuckled softly. “You would not have said that a week ago.”

“A week ago I was an idiot.”

Timidly, she reached up to touch
his stubbled face. Even without his conventional male beauty, there was
something extraordinarily attractive about the man that grew on her by the
moment.  The French term for it was
un certain quelque chose
; a certain
something. Matthew, from nearly the moment she had met him, had that certain
something that made him irresistible. 

When she touched his face, he
closed his eyes at the first flutter of her fingertips. It was an oddly
invigorating gesture. Both hands came up and she gently clasped both sides of
his face, studying this man whom she was married to.  Matthew did not even open
his eyes; he simply leaned forward and kissed her.

His lips were soft and warm, his
tongue demanding entry into her mouth.  She responded to him more quickly this
time, becoming more comfortable with his attention. She had fast learned to
like it.  He picked her up, holding her against him, her feet dangling off the
floor as their kisses became more heated.  The small entry they were standing
in was dark, cold, and empty. There was a tiny cloakroom off to the left; he
pulled her into it and closed the door.

He tossed her cloak off, letting
it fall to the floor.  He wore full armor, putting him in a logistically
difficult position for what he wanted to accomplish. But he backed her against
the wall, continuing to kiss her as he went to work on his armor. 

Alixandrea, swept up by the
fervor that was swirling between them, instinctively began to help him with his
pieces of protection. It was strange that neither one of them said a word, each
one knowing what the other was thinking, each one a willing participant.

When his plate armor came off, he
bent over at the waist and Alixandrea pulled his mail coat off over his head.
The hauberk went on the floor beside it, as did the linen shirt he wore
beneath. Stripped to the waist, it wasn’t good enough for him; he grabbed
Alixandrea with tender brutality and deftly stripped her of her surcoat.

 The corset and girdle followed,
leaving her in her sheath. The entire time, it seemed to her as if his mouth
never left her, but she knew at some point it must have. All she could feel or
think or taste was the lust that had built up to frenzied proportions. She’d
never known such a thing.  When Matthew snaked his hands underneath her shift
and lifted it over her head, she wasn’t even concerned that she was naked,
standing in Aunt Livia’s West Hall cloak room. All she cared about was Matthew
and his heated touch.

Matthew was so consumed with her
that he was blinded it by it, but not so much that he did not notice that she
was stark naked but for the stockings she wore. Tied to each thigh with a
pretty blue ribbon, he very nearly lost his mind with the erotic vision.

Taking her in his arms, he
continued to kiss her as he lifted her up against him. She wrapped her legs
around his waist as a child would have done.  With one hand, he managed to
lower his breeches.  Putting her back against the wall, he eased her down onto
his waiting erection.

Alixandrea moaned softly as he
invaded her body. She was sore from the previous day, but the pain of his
insistent entry only served to enhance her glorious sensations.  Matthew tried
to be gentle, but it was incredibly difficult.  He eased into her until he was
seated.  Then, with her back against the wall and both hands on her buttocks,
he began to move.

The thrusts were gentle at first,
erotic and slow. She was as slick as the rain that covered the ground outside. 
But his passion was demanding and his movements became faster, hotter, wetter.
A hand moved to her full breasts, gently fondling the creamy skin. Her legs
tightened around him as he gained momentum, thrusting in rhythm until he could
only hear her soft gasps in his ear.  The hand on her breasts moved back to her
buttocks, clutching them tightly as if to never let her go. 

Harder and faster he went,
feeling her legs tighten around him, until her body suddenly stiffened and her
soft crying lingered in his ear. Feeling her tight walls draw at him, he spilt
his seed deep inside her delicious body.

But it wasn’t over. There was
still heat. He was still moving and she was still gasping.  He could not seem
to stop moving, milking their passion for every last ounce it was worth. He
felt her release at least twice more around him, her body shuddering with
delight and her cries soft in his ear. But when the movements finally slowed
and their wits returned, he fell forward against the wall, making sure she was
protectively clasped in his massive arms.  It wasn’t that he was exhausted; it
was that he was unbelievably content.  He was still having difficulty believing
it was all real.

“Are you all right?” he asked
softly.

Her face was in the crook of his
neck. “Aye,” she said, muffled against his flesh.

His hands caressed her. Then he
snorted. “I am happy to report that we are well on our way to granting my
aunt’s wish.”

She suddenly lifted her head.
“Will they be looking for us?” she asked, concerned. “We should probably.…”

He kissed her, quieting her
words. “They will not come looking for us if they know what is good for them.” 
Nonetheless, he stood up and slowly let her slide to the ground. “But, in good
taste, we should probably get dressed and join them.”

She smiled, going for her shift.
Her knees were wobbly and he laughed when she bobbed and weaved. He even held
out a hand to steady her as she picked up her clothing, to which she was
grateful.  

They dressed in warm silence;
Matthew would reach out to touch her every now and again, almost as if to
convince himself she was still here, still real. He needed help with his mail
coat and hauberk, which she somewhat awkwardly provided. She’d never dressed a
knight before.  When they were finally dressed, they just stood a moment,
gazing into one another’s eyes.

“God, you are beautiful,” he
murmured.

She smiled modestly. “As you are
also quite handsome, my lord.”

He snorted and opened the door,
ushering her back out into the cold, dim hall. A swift perusal of the area
showed that there was no one about. They were still quite alone. He took her
hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow as they headed back to the main
hall.

“Of all my brothers, I am not the
most handsome,” he said. “Luke has that distinction. Women cannot seem to get
enough of him.”

“Perhaps he has what people would
consider physical perfection, but it ‘tis you who has the true essence of male
attractiveness,” she said. “However, I would not put too much stock in Luke’s
appearance. You are also quite attractive, physically. You have beautiful
eyes.”

He grinned. “I have never heard
that before. Dare I believe you?”

“You’d better.”

They smiled at each other as they
reached the door that would lead them into the brightly lit hall where food and
wine await.

“Would you like to know
something?“ he asked softly.

“I would.”

“I think I could grow to be very
fond of you.”

She feigned shock. “Of me?”

His smile seemed to fade and a
strong warmth took hold deep in his eyes. Whatever was brewing behind those
soft blue orbs reached out to grab her.

“Absolutely,” he whispered.

Alixandrea did not know what to
say. By the tone of his voice, there was nothing she could say that could give
either one of them any greater hope that their marriage was indeed destined to
be a pleasurable thing for them both.  When he brought her hand up to his lips
and softly kissed her fingers, her cheeks turned delightfully pink. If she’d
been reluctant to allow herself to feel true happiness before this moment, she
realized that she was no longer afraid.  She would permit herself to feel it.

The door in front of them
suddenly flew open and the light from the hall nearly blinded them. Matthew
opened his mouth to berate whoever had enabled the action, but Mark’s serious
face caught him by surprise.

“Matt,” he was breathing heavily,
as if he had been running a great distance. “We’ve been looking everywhere for
you.”

“Here I am,” Matthew said calmly.
“What is it?”

One word sent them all into the
deepest levels of apprehension.

“Father.”

CHAPTER NINE

The nearest physic was six miles
to the east. John and Luke had already gone to fetch him, leaving Rosehill in a
panic.