My Lady's Pleasure (5 page)

A bolt shot through him, like lightning. It blinded him to everything but the woman whose body rested against his. He pulled her against him and ravished her mouth the way he’d dreamed of for days.

Finally, sound penetrated his fevered mind. Laughter. The music had stopped, and the assembled guests chuckled. Some even clapped.

He put Josalyn away from him but bent to whisper into her ear. “We’d best stop ere I embarrass myself.”

She nodded but didn’t speak as her breath came fast and hard against his cheek. Finally, he took her hand and turned to face the crowd. After a moment, a group of chattering women flocked around his new wife and led her away from him. They laughed and even squealed as they left. If English females were anything like the ones from his home, they’d be taking her to prepare her for the wedding bed. He could wait a bit longer for their first joining. If she enjoyed the ritual, so much the better.

Trey approached him with his instrument tucked under one arm. “If I know women, they’ll keep your bride busy for a while before you can go to her.”

“You know about wedding nights, minstrel?”

“I know something about love, and waiting, and when you think you’ll never breathe until you can have your woman.”

“I breathe well enough,” Ulric said.

“Still, you could no doubt use some wine to help you pass the time.”

He glanced around the empty chapel. The other men and the priest would be toasting the marriage. He might as well join them.

“Come along,” Trey said. “I need to talk to you.”

“You don’t command me.”

“Fine, then.” Trey bowed. “May I please speak with you, my lord? I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say.”

“Well enough.” Ulric gestured toward the doorway, and Trey preceded him into the bailey and toward the main hall. The men would be gathered there while the tower room was occupied by the women who would prepare his wife for the consummation of his marriage. They’d started work there in the morning, and woe to any poor male who dared to trespass.

“It seems to me you have a problem, my lord,” the minstrel said.

“I have my land and manor. I have the wife and helpmeet to secure my place here. What problem could I have?”

“Your wife doesn’t want you,” the man answered. “I’d wager she doesn’t even like you.”

“She needn’t like me or even tolerate me as long as she obeys me.”

“Do you really want to spend your life with her that way?”

In the waning daylight, the flickering of light from the main hall guided them. Inside, the men sat around the fire, drinking and joking. Ulric found a flagon of wine and two goblets and led the minstrel to a corner where they could speak in private.

They sat at a table in shadows, far from the fire. If anyone noticed the presence of the bridegroom, they said nothing. Ulric filled the goblets and then drained his own and put it down on the table with some force. “God’s breath. How long will these women take?”

“Wedding nights require ritual,” Trey answered. “Including making the groom wait.”

“And what’s the purpose of that?”

“Not being a woman, I can only guess, but I imagine it’s meant to impress him with the gravity of the vows he’s taken.”

“Gravity,” Ulric spat. “Priests, gowns, ritual. I’ve gone to war with less preparation than this marriage has taken.”

“If you make this into a war, expect to lose it,” Trey said.

“I don’t lose.”

“You frighten her, my lord. You can force her to obey, but she’ll take no pleasure from the union.” Trey set his own goblet down. “And neither will you.”

“I’ll make her want me.”

“By force?” Trey said. “Won’t work. Accept my help, instead.”

“What could a minstrel do?”

“The lady responds to my song. You saw that for yourself.”

He had. She’d shrunk from Ulric, even after she’d taken the vow to marry him. As soon as this Trey had set fingers to the lyre, she’d opened to him of her own will. That kiss. The taste still lingered on his lips, more potent than any wine.

“I have an elixir,” the minstrel said. “It soothes and excites at the same time.

“How can that be possible?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Speak,” Ulric commanded.

“’Tis your lady wife I’ll be discussing. You may not like what I have to say.”

“If I tell you to speak, you will do it,” he answered.

“The tonic uncoils fear, opening up the person to other emotions. Lust is the most common one.”

“An aphrodisiac?”

“I’ve taken it myself a few times. It’s quite potent.”

“Then, I’m to drug my own wife,” Ulric said.

“Or I’ll do it for you,” the man answered. “You’ll want to apply the salve yourself, though.”

“Elixirs, salves. You’ve probably made the whole thing up.”

Trey reached into the bag that hung from his belt and pulled out a vial. “Here, my lord.”

Ulric took it from him, removed the stopper, and sniffed the liquid. “Cinnamon. No more.”

“There’s some of that, but other herbs as well.”

Ulric handed the vial back to him. “Fakery.”

Trey reclosed the bottle and put it back into his pouch. “As you say. Deflower your wife on your own.”

“I don’t like you, singer.”

“But you need me, don’t you?”

The man was too sure of himself. Either a master at deception or speaking truth. Ulric did have a problem with Lady Josalyn. She was tiny and a virgin. She hated him and feared him. She’d never planned to lie with a man and had no intention of enjoying the marital act.

And here he sat, hard and eager to couple with her. All he’d have to do was show her his cock, and he would terrorize her.

“You’re pondering it,” the minstrel said.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “How, exactly, do your potions work?”

“The elixir tastes good in wine. After a bit, it makes the person drowsy. Happy.” Trey paused, and a smile curled his lips. “Not unlike the first flush of sexual arousal.”

Yes, that might help, if the liquid worked the way this man promised.

“Now, the person drifts into a dream world where they’re reduced to little more than the basic senses,” the man went on. “Taste, hearing, most of all, touch. I’ll be playing and singing all the while.’

“Bawdy songs.”

“Fablaiux airs. Of lusty women and the joys of a cock in a woman’s chamber,” Trey answered. “You’ll kiss your lady and touch her gently.”

Yes, he could do that. An elixir to calm her fears, a musical accompaniment, and his hands softly plying her body.

“Once she’s ready, you’ll use the salve on her nether parts,” Trey said.

“To deaden pain?”

“The opposite, my lord. It creates a pleasant tingle that builds to a fire.” The man leaned toward him. “Your cock will receive a dose when it enters your lady’s queynt.”

“I see.” His cock needed no help. It already throbbed, rock hard and fully erect beneath his tunic. If he could make her feel the same way about wanting him….

“Your mind follows mine, I think,” the minstrel said. “Enough of my potions, and she’ll endure anything to have you inside her.”

“Very well.” Ulric reached for his purse. “How much?”

“Not coin, my lord.”

“Then what?”

“I want the chance to win her from you.”

“Are you mad?” Ulric pulled out his dagger and set it on the table where the bastard would have to look at it. “She’s my wife.”

“And the lady of the castle and all the lands around. She can act the part and still warm my bed,” Trey said. “In short, we can share her.”

“Why do you want her?”

Trey took the flagon and filled both their cups. “You prove my case, my lord.”

Ulric drank some wine and felt it curdle in his belly. “Stop speaking in riddles, minstrel, or I’ll cut your tongue out and you won’t be able to speak at all.”

Trey also drank and then smiled as though he’d already won something. “If you can ask me why I’d want the Lady Josalyn, you have no idea of her value. She’s a pearl beyond all price.”

He hadn’t thought in those terms, but her beauty had paralyzed him the first moment he’d set eyes on her. Her moss green eyes, the way her hair turned to flame in the light, the innocent ripeness of her body. “I know her value.”

“I don’t think you do. You only look at her as an asset with the people and a receptacle for your lust.”

How little the man knew. Yes, he lusted after the woman. What man wouldn’t? And yes, she’d already helped him win over the people of Randmead. But she meant more. So much more he didn’t dare follow the thought. “Take care what you say, troubadour.”

“Her outward loveliness is the least part of her beauty,” Trey said. “There’s also her mind, her spirit, her integrity.”

“I value those things.”

“Would you have even thought of them if I’d said nothing?”

Ulric lifted his cup but then put it back down. “You have no idea what I think of her.”

“She deserves a lover who’ll value her for herself, not just as an object.”

“Why in God’s name would I agree to share her?” Ulric said.

“For my help tonight, and because you can’t resist a battle,” Trey answered. “Even a battle for a lady’s heart.”

“Courtly love?” he asked.

“’Tis what we troubadours traffic in,” Trey answered. “Other men would do wise to learn some of our tricks.”

How much more satisfying to split the man’s skull than to engage in a lover’s joust for Lady Josalyn’s affections. And yet the minstrel had one thing right. He frightened her, and when her virgin’s body had to accommodate his swollen tool, he would hurt her as well. Perhaps he could use the fool’s help with his wife. He’d not lose the fight, and so much the better to have her love. In truth, his feelings had already softened toward her. How sweet for her to return the gift.

“Agreed.” Ulric finished his wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll send to see what’s taking the women so long, and then we’ll introduce my lady wife to the pleasures of the flesh.”

My Lady’s Pleasure: Chapter Three

Anne ordered the women here and there as they made her ready for Josalyn’s first night with Ulric. The Viking. Her husband.

As Anne directed the preparations of the bed itself, another woman brushed her hair. “Now, remember, my lady, to compliment your husband’s cock. Tell him how beautiful it is and how large.”

“Lady Josalyn won’t have a problem there,” Anne piped in. “He’s a big man in all important ways.”

The room filled with bawdy giggles.

“Is he really huge?” one of the women said.

“Ask Anne,” Josalyn answered. “As she seems to know so much about him.”

The woman behind Josalyn dropped her hair. “Anne, you’ve seen him?”

“Not I, but someone in this room has,” Anne said.

The women clustered around her. One clutched her hand. “Tell us, my lady.”

“I’ve had his second-in-command,” another woman said. “He’s an animal between the sheets.”

A young woman, scarcely more than a girl and surely a virgin herself, knelt at her feet. “You must tell us everything that happens tonight. Promise, my lady.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” she answered. “That’s private.”

“At least, you can tell us about his rod,” the young one said.

They all stood around her, staring at her. For heaven’s sake, they’d never budge until she’d told them something.

“I saw him naked and aroused. An error, only,” she said. “He is, well, very large.”

“Ooh,” the young one crooned. “I’ll think I’ll take one of these Vikings.”

“Not until you’re older,” Josalyn said. “And only after you’ve married him.”

“Don’t worry.” One of the older women put her hand on the girl’s shoulders. “She will, my lady. She has no idea what she’s talking about.”

“I think we’re done,” Anne said. She scanned the room and then smiled. “Lovely. Luxury, as benefits your station.”

The room could have come from a tale of dragons and brave knights who awakened beautiful princesses. They’d draped flowers all over the huge bed and down the curtains at the corners. Rose petals covered the sheets where they’d pulled the blankets back. So much work. So much love. She’d hold it all in her heart when she surrendered her body to the Viking. Her husband.

A man appeared at the door. Not Ulric but old Tom who cleaned swords in the armory.

“What are you doing here, fool?” Anne demanded. “We told you, no man will view this chamber but the lord.”

“’Twas the lord who sent me,” Tom said. “He wants to know when he can see his wife.”

“See her?” Anne said, to titters from the others.

“Have mercy. He’s just married,” Tom said.

“Tell him we’re ready,” Anne said.

Tom left, and many of the women followed. Anne waved her hands at the rest, and they disappeared, too, leaving the two of them alone.

Josalyn got up and approached the bed. She’d agreed to this. She’d taken the vow in front of witnesses of her own free will. By what she understood of the ways of men and women, the congress would hurt tonight. Women told stories of great pleasure with the coupling. Although she’d never expect that, she couldn’t deny the power of his kiss after the ceremony. Imagine, that a warrior could be so gentle with his touch. A lazy warmth had washed through her from the meeting of their mouths to other secret places. And then when he’d held her against him, he hadn’t overwhelmed her with his size but rather offered comfort and a promise of sweet secrets they might share.

“You’ll enjoy your husband,” Anne said. “He’s not a beast, and he treasures you.”

“Aye, treasure, well enough. Like his horse, his sword, and this castle.”

“His eyes go soft when he gazes at you,” Anne said. “He doesn’t look at his horse that way.”

“Soft? Him?”

“’Tis love, my lady.”

“Even less likely,” Josalyn said.

Anne gave her a knowing smile. “You’ll recognize the expression when you know him better.”

“Mayhap, but I’ll still have to endure this night first.” She shrugged out of her chemise and handed it to Anne. Now naked, she slipped into the bed. The perfume of rose petals, crushed under her body, floated up to surround her.

“Good night, my lady,” Anne said. “You’ll fare well with the Viking. I can feel it.”

“Thank you.”

Josalyn lay back, staring up into the darkness and the flickering of light from the oil lamp near the bed. She breathed in a steady rhythm to calm herself, in and out, pausing after each exhalation.

Ulric entered finally. Though his tread was light, she sensed the moment he stepped into the room. He made a looming figure, filling threshold. He stayed there for a moment, and though she must have imagined it in the dim light, his nostrils seemed to flare, the male in his territory catching the scent of his female.

“My lord?” she whispered.

In answer, he stepped aside to reveal he’d brought another man. Trey, the minstrel, his lyre in his hand. The flames reflected in his dark eyes, helping him to create his magic. The man brought music with him even when he didn’t play or sing. It surrounded him, casting a spell as it had when she’d first kissed the Viking after the marriage ceremony. Somehow, his presence made her submission natural, even desirable.

Still, why had her husband brought another man here to witness what would pass between them? Bad enough she had to surrender her body to a man she hadn’t wanted to marry. Did he now want her to have to expose herself to a stranger at the moment of her ultimate debasement?

She stared up at Ulric. Her husband wouldn’t return her gaze but looked away into a dark corner of the chamber.

She sat up, clutching the sheet to her body. “Explain.”

“I’ve come to perform for you, my lady,” the troubadour said.

“I’ll hear it from my husband,” she said.

He still didn’t look at her. “He seems to soothe you, my lady. I thought he might help.”

The musician struck up his lyre, and more magic poured forth. It filled the space around the bed, even making the flames in the oil lamp dance.

“Don’t,” she said. “No tricks from you to fool me into liking what will happen here.”

Trey stopped playing. “In my experience, women enjoy the act, my lady. Even the first time.”

Ulric approached the bed with a chalice in his hand. “Drink, wife.”

“What is it?” she said.

“Wine. Why must you defy me? You agreed to this.”

“Aye.” Clutching the sheet with one hand, she took the cup with the other and raised it to her lips. This wine surpassed what they’d had at the feast. Honeyed notes and cinnamon blossomed on her tongue. The liquid warmed her throat as it went down, and before she realized what she’d done, she’d swallowed the entire drink. She handed the cup back to Ulric and sank back into the rose petals.

Trey stroked his lyre again and began to sing something, but the words tripped over each other in a blur. A sweetness settled around her heart and spread out to relax her muscles. Her breath softened and went deeper into her chest. Mayhap the singer’s spells weren’t so threatening, after all. Would it be so bad to lie back and let him cast his circle of enchantment around her?

Her gaze wandered to Ulric where he shrugged from his tunic and then his shirt and braes. He stood, naked and facing away from her.

“Stay a moment, my lord husband,” she said.

He straightened and turned his head toward her.

“Just so,” she said.

“What do you want, wife?”

“To look at you.”

He let his hands fall to his side but made no other move. In the flickering light, he made quite a spectacle. Though large, he was also sleek, made of graceful contours and solid planes with only the scar she’d noted before marring his perfection. Broad shoulders gave way to a grand expanse of back and then to a narrower waist and finally his buttocks. Round and firm. Her palms itched for the feel of them as heat spread over her. For some reason her body wouldn’t explain to her mind, she became wet between her legs as she stared at him. She could almost believe she wanted him.

“Done with the back?” he said.

“Aye.”

He turned slowly, and the minstrel accompanied his movements with the music. More and more of Ulric came into view. He resembled a lion with his golden mane of hair. It caught the light and shone around his face. His eyes seemed to reflect the fire of the lamp as he stared at her. Jesu, he looked as if he’d devour her.

“Take my measure,” he said. “All of me.”

He meant his cock. She’d seen the thing before as she’d peeked over his shoulder in the bath. It held more importance now that he was about to take his right as her husband. She’d have to deal with it, and soon.

She went slowly, though, admiring his beauty as she lowered her gaze. The muscles of his chest and the male nipples there. The trail of the scar over his ribs. The flat abdomen. Finally, she encountered the curling hairs of his pelvis and the rod that jutted out from them.

If anything, he seemed even larger than before and so thick that her fingers might not span him at the base. Surely a trick of the light or the rhythm Trey played, but the thing seemed to jerk upward as she studied it. Eager to plunder her.

“Afraid?” he said.

“I should be.” She hadn’t imagined his size. Did women truly accept such large instruments into their body? He’d surely split her in two. And yet, the fear huddled in the back of her mind, tucked away in its own compartment where it couldn’t reach other parts of her. An invisible blanket had settled over her, leaving her weak but with all her senses alive, as she’d never experienced them before. Her feminine chamber released yet more moisture, as if she were drowning inside.

Trey changed his song to something less refined with deeper notes. The rhythm drove the music, thumping with the beating of her heart. Ulric moved with it as he approached the bed and bent to grab the covers from her hand. She didn’t resist. She might have found the strength to, but the will wasn’t there. By all the saints, she wanted his eyes on her, wanted his reaction. She wanted him to desire her and take her.

He sucked in a breath. “God’s blood, what a sight.”

“I hope I please you, my lord.”

“Please me? Your beauty humbles me.” He gestured with his head toward Trey. “What say you, minstrel?”

“Very beautiful, my lord.”

Their admiration blossomed in her heart, and truth to tell, in other parts of her body, as well. It spread through her downward, filling her with more warmth. The look in Ulric’s eyes spoke of a shared heat, a flame that could set them both ablaze. Her queynt came alive with an insistent ache. It wanted his mammoth member inside. Craved it.

Suddenly, her flesh grew sensitive. Especially between her legs but elsewhere, too. All the other hidden places–under her arms, behind her knees. Her nipples hardened into peaks as drowsiness settled over her.

“You drugged the wine,” she said.

“’Tis for the best, my lady.” Trey’d said that from where he sat beside her. When had he stopped playing? How had he gotten so close without her noticing?

“Why are you here?” she whispered.

“To give you maximum pleasure. Your lord and husband is a large man. He doesn’t want to hurt or frighten you.”

She turned back to the Viking. “You’ll allow this?”

“For your happiness, aye,” he answered.

Suddenly, she was there and not there as her mind slipped away from reality. She floated in a perfumed cloud, rose petals and warmth lapping at her skin. She fought the fog, mentally clawing her way back to reality and reason. But no matter how hard she tried, one last curtain obscured the outside world, and then the mists closed around her again.

“What have you done?”

“Don’t fight.” A voice from the distance. The minstrel’s.

But she didn’t want to fight it. Was that the result of the drug? Or was that her true desire? “You shouldn’t have drugged me. That was wrong of you.”

“’Twill only relax you and ease your virgin’s pain. Nothing else has changed.”

“Then why do I feel so….”

“So?” A voice prompted.

“Alive. My skin feels as it never has before. Awake, somehow.”

“That’s desire, my lady.”

“Oh. Desire. Of course.” She let her eyes drift shut. A hand – Trey’s? – closed over her breast, and thought of anything else rushed out of her head. He kneaded her gently and then circled his palm over the peak. Saints, she’d never felt the like. The passage of his fingers burned and soothed at the same time, and she closed her eyes, arching her back for more contact.

“She’s ready, my lord.” Trey’s voice.

A heavier weight settled next to her. The hand at her breast disappeared, but a large body covered hers. Skin against bare skin. Hard muscle against her nipples. Tiny kisses rained down over her face, from her forehead to her eyelids to her cheeks and then along her jaw. So gentle, so lovely, and yet, not enough.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and searched for his mouth with hers. When she found it, she kissed him hard and deep, as if her whole life had built to this moment.

The man groaned and responded with hunger of his own. Their lips battled, each of them seeking dominance and surrender at the same time. His mouth tasted of spices and of the sweets they’d shared at the end of the bridal feast.

“Josalyn, I need you.” Her husband whispered. “Open for me.”

“Too soon, my lord.” It was Trey, nearby again. “Even with the potion, you still need to arouse her passions.”

She opened her eyes and found the blurry image of his face next to hers on the pillow, his dark eyes staring deeply into her own. She reached out and touched velvet skin everywhere–his shoulder, down his side to his hip, and below. Her hand landed on something hard, so she circled it with her fingers.

A low
ahh
of pleasure enveloped her, and as she stroked him, the hardness grew longer and harder. He stopped her hand and pushed it away. “Not for me tonight.”

Then he bent and placed his mouth over her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth. The gentle tugging sent jolts of excitement through her, sending her deeper into her sensual spell. Ulric took the other breast, and she surrendered utterly. She ran her fingers through both men’s hair, holding them both against her.