Mary Gillgannon (24 page)

A sense of determination filled her. Christ had taught that it was blessed to turn the other cheek, to meet cruelty with kindness, hatred with love. She would follow the Blessed Savior’s example. Her love for Richard was surely stronger than his anger. She would prove it to him. Closing her eyes, she willed the lingering tension in her limbs to ease.

She must have dozed. The candles had burned low; they flickered from an unseen draft. She was cold. The chill night air easily permeated her thin lawn gown. She sat up slowly and wondered if the brazier had gone out. She slid to the edge of the enormous bed and peered out from the curtained space.

Her husband sat in a high-backed chair across the room, watching her.

S
he froze. They stared at each other. His eyes seemed sleepy, languid. Even from across the room, she could smell the wine on his breath. She suspected he was drunk.

“Come here.”

Nervously, she obeyed him. He still wore his wedding attire, but it looked rumpled and soiled. Up close, the warm smell of sweat mingled with the wine. He watched her coolly, eyeing the delicate white gown. “Take it off,” he ordered.

She hesitated. His eyes met hers. “I’ve seen you naked before. I wish to do so again.”

She slipped the gown over her head and let it fall to the floor in a ripple of white.

“I’d rather you wore nothing to bed. Nay, let me amend that. I’d rather you wore nothing when you are in my presence. I want to enjoy what I’ve paid so dearly for.”

His words were bitter. She looked away, waiting for him to broach the subject of her betrayal.

“Come closer.”

She approached until she was merely an arm’s length away. He was wearing gloves. Somehow that made her feel even more vulnerable. His eyes ran over her, inch by inch. They settled on the place where her thighs met her body and lingered there. She shivered, although she was no longer cold.

“Turn around.”

She knew exactly where his eyes focused. The thought of it made her bottom itch. She flinched when he touched her. His leather-clad finger rubbed beneath her buttocks, then threatened to poke between her legs. She held her breath, feeling like a prize bull being inspected at market.

“Turn around again. Lift up your breasts. Show them to me.”

Her fingers shook. His eyes watched, burning.

“Make your nipples hard.”

“How?”

“Rub them. Pretend I’m sucking them.”

She knew her face was red. It was a sin to touch yourself, to give yourself pleasure. Her hands were clumsy, but somehow knowing that he watched her made her body respond. He reached out and stroked an erect nipple, teasing it with the very tip of his gloved finger. The sensation sent a sharp, almost painful tingle through her body. He stroked the other nipple delicately, flicking the abrasive glove across the sensitive tip. She shivered with arousal.

“Lift up your hair.”

She obeyed, pulling her carefully arranged tresses back so that he could see her breasts better. He watched her, smiling slightly.

“Jiggle them.”

A stab of resentment made her tense. She had gone from prize bull to performing bear. Surely he couldn’t expect her to...

“I said, jiggle them! Make them bounce!” His voice was hard.

She did as he said. It was strange to feel her breasts bobbing up and down. It made the nipples throb.

After a few moments, she stopped and looked at him. He was still smiling, but he looked pained somehow, as if his clothes were too tight. She felt a stir of hope. He was becoming aroused. Soon he would stop this strange, perverse love-play and take her to bed.

“Go lie on the bed.”

She obeyed him, relieved. He did not follow immediately, but began dragging furniture across the room. He placed two chests at the side of the bed, then carried over two of the gleaming candelabras and placed them on top. He pulled the curtains on the bed as far back as they would go, then walked to the chair and dragged it across the floor to place between the two chests. Then, seemingly satisfied that the bed was effectively illuminated, he again sat down in the chair.

Astra’s throat went dry. Richard still hadn’t undressed, and he obviously wasn’t getting in bed with her. She had the horrible feeling he planned further entertainment at her expense.

“Lie facing me and spread your legs.”

She went rigid. It was one thing for him to see her naked. He’d done that before, and she knew what he saw. But this... it made her feel impossibly vulnerable, thoroughly embarrassed. She moved to face him, then eased her knees apart an inch or two.

“More.”

“Richard, I...I...”

“Silence! You’re my whore, Astra. I’m going to make you earn your price.”

Closing her eyes, she did as he said. It felt odd. The cool air in the room chilled her. Her legs trembled and her stomach felt weak. She could feel the wetness between her legs, a strange burning sensation.

“Play with yourself.”

“What?”

“You know what I mean—touch yourself.”

“I... I can’t.”

“Of course you can.”

“It’s a sin.”

He laughed harshly. “Who told you that—the nuns?”

She nodded.

“They aren’t here. I am. I want you to do it. I demand that you do it.”

She tried. Her hands shook. The first vague stirrings of desire faded. She was too mortified to feel anything.

“You’ll have to learn how to arouse yourself. I want you to be ready for me when I want you. I won’t waste my time pleasuring you.”

It hurt to have him talk that way, as if their lovemaking would always be for his pleasure, not hers. It was obvious he would never forgive her. Her hand fell away as the tears filled her eyes.

“You know, don’t you?” he whispered. “You know I’m going to punish you. You know I’m going to make you pay.”

She shivered and then pulled her legs beneath her and wrapped her arms around her bare body. Her throat hurt. Her whole being ached with misery. She could feel his simmering rage. She had been wrong to imagine that things could ever be the same between them. She waited, expecting him to shout at her, perhaps strike her.

* * *

He watched her mutely, feeling uneasy. He had expected Astra to defend herself, to justify her deceit. He had also expected her to argue with him or refuse his demands. She had done none of those things. Instead, she had obeyed him. Her compliance robbed him of the satisfaction he sought. What point was there in embarrassing her if she endured it so bravely, so sweetly?

And yet, he was determined to make her suffer. He could not let her escape punishment. He could not let his vengeance be undermined by his feelings for her.

“You tricked me, Astra,” he said slowly. “You forced me to wed you. I had intended to take you to wife, but that is no matter now. Now I know your true character, I wouldn’t have you. But, of course, I have no choice. Your cleverness has seen to that. You are my wife now, until death do us part. Are you happy, Astra? Are you pleased?”

“I was wrong,” she whispered. “I made a mistake. I should not have...”

He made a sound of disgust. “
Now
she repents. At least you have the decency to regret your treachery. You rise in my estimation minute by minute, Astra. But it’s not enough. You made me look a fool. Do you truly expect me to forget that?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“Shut up!” he said bitterly. She edged away from him.

“Your feelings don’t matter to me. You have succeeded in gaining yourself a husband, Astra, but I don’t think it will be to your liking. I told you once I think all women are whores. Now you are not only a whore, you are a whore who has been bought and paid for. You have earned my name, my protection, my honor. In exchange I can do anything I want with you.”

That frightened her, he could tell. She crouched back on the bed, looking as if she feared he would strike her. Let her expect the worst. She could have no idea that what he wanted most of all was to touch her not with violence but passion. He dare not let her guess he was so choked with desire he could scarce keep up his pretense of being angry. But he had to. As long he did not actually give in and touch her, his will would remain stronger than his lust.

“Let us continue, Astra. I was enjoying what you were doing. Come to the edge of the bed.”

She hesitated, then slid forward and moved her thighs stiffly apart.

“Begin again,” he said huskily. “Arouse yourself while I watch.”

He watched her struggle. She looked bewildered and resigned. After a few moments, he leaned forward and slid his hand up her thigh. “That’s pathetic. You’re not even wet.”

“I’m not good at this. It makes me feel filthy, sinful. I feel like a—”

“A whore,” he finished. “You are a whore. You’re my whore.”

“No, I’m not! I’m your wife!” She sat up and moved into a more modest position, glaring at him.

He met her eyes evenly. “It’s the same thing, Astra. I own you. I can beat you, abuse you, use you any way I wish. As long as I don’t kill you, I can do anything I want.”

“The King—”

“... would probably shake his head and lecture me, but he wouldn’t interfere. Start again. You make me impatient. I’m miserably hard already.”

“Maybe if you took your clothes off,” she coaxed. “Got into bed with me...”

“Do you want to touch me? Do you want to see my cock?”

He pushed the chair away and began to undress rapidly, furiously. He finished tearing off his clothing and stood before her, watching her. He was gratified to see that she still looked frightened. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her. “Do you like it Astra? Is it big enough for you?”

“It’s too big,” she choked.

“You’ll learn to like it. Since it’s your first time, it’s bound to hurt. Try to make yourself wet, so the pain won’t be as great. If it helps, you can touch me. If I wasn’t so far gone already, I’d even let you take it in your mouth.”

She gasped. “Do people truly... that is... men and women...?”

He raised his brows. “I’ve had many a whore pleasure me that way.”

He saw her taking this in. Slowly, her shock changed to something else. She met his gaze with a bold look. “I think I will... touch you.”

He struggled not to draw away as she reached for him. He hadn’t thought she would do it.

She was tentative at first. Then her fingers stroked him in a way that could only be described as loving. This was not working. Her tender, tantalizing touch was stealing away every shred of his anger. He was already so on fire for her he could scarcely endure it. Watching her caress him in the candlelight, her hair burning golden, her delicate features gilded with rosy softness—it was too much.

He groaned and pulled away. “I won’t be able to last. Is that what you want?”

She stared at him.

“Do you think if you use your hand to spill my seed, I’ll leave you alone? It doesn’t work that way, Astra. The marriage isn’t valid until I take your maidenhead.”

She gave his body a quick, cautious glance and then lay down, her expression stiff. “I’m ready,” she said in a determined voice.

He regarded her warily. Was she trying to get it over with? Did she think once he fucked her, his anger would abate? He worried she was right. That once he knew the splendor of joining with her, he would forget all about his vow for vengeance.

Best to get if over quickly at least. He leaned over her and nudged her legs apart. He couldn’t resist touching her once, seeking her intriguing female softness. Tense, rigid flesh met his fingers.

“Jesu! You’re as dry as the Jerusalem desert!”

“I’m sorry. I told you I wasn’t good at this. Why can’t you kiss me?”

“Because I can’t be bothered,” he snapped.

She sighed and turned away. Unwanted sympathy filled him. He’d never bedded an unwilling woman before, and he didn’t relish the thought of beginning with Astra. Somehow he had to arouse her, and yet he’d sworn to give no thought to pleasuring her.

He lay down next to her and moved his hand between her thighs. He pressed it firmly against her mound. She squirmed.

“Hold still,” he whispered. “Let’s find out what sort of words arouse you.”

She looked at him, baffled. She clearly had no idea of what he was about, but then, neither did he.

He leaned toward her, his mouth near her ear. “Do you like to think of me touching you, my hand down your gown, touching your nipples? Rubbing them, making them hard?”

He thought he saw her cheeks flush, and he could almost imagine that her body quivered slightly beneath his fingers. Ah, perhaps, this would work after all.

“Do you remember the day I first saw you, when you were swimming? Do you know how you looked to me? Your breasts were wet and glistening, the nipples pink in the sun. I wanted so badly to suck them, to spread you out on the bank and devour you until you begged me to stop.”

He felt her shudder. “So you like dirty talk. That’s useful to know. I don’t have to touch you. I’ll merely tempt you with words.”

Despite saying this, he couldn’t resist stroking her slightly. As he felt Astra’s immediate response, his own arousal was near unbearable. He forced himself to focus on his goal. He didn’t want her to feel too much pleasure. He must not forget how angry he was.

“Such a wanton,” he murmured, his voice husky with his own passion. “You have a vocation for this, Astra. You could be a very skillful whore.”

He pressed down on her sensitive flesh. “Do you like to think of me inside you, Astra? How do you think it will feel? Do you think I will satisfy all your longings and desires when at last I fuck you?”

He felt her stiffen at the word. “What is it, Astra?” he asked in mock surprise. “Does that word offend you? Shall I use another? There are many ways to describe what a man does to a woman. He ‘nips’ her or ‘bangs’ her, ‘futters’ her, or ‘toffs’ her. He plays leapfrog with her, opens her lock with his key, rides her like a horse, cuts off a slice from her loaf, sits in her saddle and tumbles her. He puts his arrow in her quiver, finds safe harbor in her cinque port.”

He paused, seeking to control his own arousal. “So many fanciful terms. But I prefer to call the thing what it is. What of this, Astra...” He whispered directly in her ear. “Tonight I will spread your legs wide and fill you to bursting. Then I shall ride you—long and hard, until you beg me for mercy.”

She did not move or make a sound. So still she was, he wondered if she even breathed. He raised himself and leaned over her. His eyes traveled the length of her, taking in every alluring inch. He could scarce restrain his yearning to love her properly, to kiss and caress her, to explore her luscious beauty. His gaze alighted on her face. She watched him, her eyes deep liquid blue, filled with an expression of fear, longing, and some other emotion he could not name

Frustration filled him. He had to finish this, to bury himself in her irresistible body, lose himself in the safety of his own lust. He covered her and guided himself to the opening between her legs.