Twelve Kisses (5 page)

His fingers and loins itched and burned, but he made himself
wait. In less time than it would take him to melt gold, he could
have torn his way through her bindings and smacked that pert
backside of hers until she yielded, but he waited. She had a plot,
the naughty wench.

Alis kissed him once, there, on his manhood, then giggled and
hastily kissed his mouth instead. He luxuriated in her shy ardor,
feeling for the first time in his life truly handsome.

His wife was a beguiling little witch, caressing and kissing
and murmuring “wait,” each time he strained a little against his
ties.

“
You must wear me down, madam, or I will take my revenge,” he
warned, as she cupped his balls and stroked along his
length.

“
I intend to,” she replied, cool as one of the snow drifts
outside, then shattering her own illusion as she rather awkwardly
mounted him.

“
Sorry,” she panted, thrusting an elbow into his ribs as she
tried to drive herself onto his spear.

He lifted her slightly and helped her until she was on top of
him, her hands hooked against his shoulders, her mouth exploring
his ribs and nipples.

“
You are so wonderfully hairy,” she admired. Then, “Oh!” as he
stirred within her.

“
Do you intend to have me?” he asked, proud that his voice
sounded as measured as it did.

“
Of course.” She began to move, jolting at first then settling
into a busy rhythm he marveled at for a moment, until it swept him
away. As he was ridden and rode her, he heard her mutter, “Hard
this, but yes, yes! Sweet God—”

He kissed her on her panting mouth as she climaxed.

She dropped onto him, dewed with sweat. “Six,” she hissed.
“Six kisses. My first given.”

He patted her rump, allowing her this triumph; then he tensed
and snapped the bonds, ripping through them to snatch her into his
arms.

“
Not quite yet,” he answered. Freeing his right leg with a
single kick, he rolled them both over with her now on her back and
went into her again.

Her eyes opened wide. “But you—you finished!”

“
Not quite,” he panted, and now he took her, pounding into her,
storming her afresh, until she shuddered anew and cried his name,
and they both were utterly satisfied.

* * *
*

Seven kisses
, Alis thought, in a doze
sometime later,
seven given and taken.
Tenderness and heat but no love words.
She
tried to consider if she was sorry, or still hopeful but slept
instead.

* * *
*

The following morning, a bitter wind drove snow and sleet hard
against the shutters, and David was soaked to his skin by the time
he returned from the tending the horses.

“
Still enough hay for them,” he remarked, catching her worried
look as she handed him a cloth to dry himself, “and we have the
frumenty and pottage.” He picked a half-loaf from the table and
scowled slightly. “Hard enough to break our teeth on, but we shall
manage.”

Alis nodded. She knew a trick or two with stale bread, and
last night she had found onions in one of the panniers. “I hoped to
go riding today,” she admitted. She had wanted David to take her on
the back of his glossy chestnut, and they ride together.

“
So had I.” David gave a gusty sigh. “I have boyhood haunts to
show you.”

“
Ones we missed earlier?”

“
Ones your parents would not let me take you to see, for they
were most careful of your modesty.” David gave the hard loaf a
final tap and smiled at her. “But we shall see them now, or later.
There is no haste.” He draped the cloth over the end of the table
and turned to her. “We must entertain ourselves in other
ways.”

“
I must wash the pots,” Alis said quickly, as he approached
her.

“
Then I shall heat some water for you.” He brushed past her and
hefted the biggest cauldron away from its hook over the
fire.

“
I will come out, too.” Alis did not want him to think her
soft.

“
No need, wife.” He tweaked her coif. “Stay warm for me,
instead.” With that, he strode off into the pounding
sleet.

* * *
*

David shoveled snow, cut firewood, and filled the cauldron
with well water. Alis, he noted with pleasure, was obviously
watching for his return, for she dragged open the door as he
blundered through the slush.

He closed it before the snow fell in and lifted the cauldron
onto its hook over the fire. “Onions?” he asked, inhaling deeply.
He loved onions and ramsons, and she seemed to have both cooking
here, in a gently simmering vessel.

She planted her hands on her hips. “You kissed me once with a
mouthful of garlic.”

“
I did.” He remembered and recalling her fourteen-year-old
indignation, stroked her cheek and chin with his thumb. “Forgive
me?”

Alis nodded, a half-smile lurking on her rosy mouth. “I may
need to ask for you to forgive me, after you have tried our
breakfast.”

* * *
*

But all was well. David asked for second helpings of the
bread, onion and cheese pottage and even scoured the crusted pots
for her. She swept the floor and mopped the table, happy in such
easy, shared domestic tasks while the wind hissed outside and
sucked at their stout door and rattled the trees in the nearby
wood. Never had she known a winter more cold and at the same time
warm, for David had made this cottage so snug and safe.

We are at peace here. We may be Yorkist and Tudor, but we do
well together.

If only he would say he loves me....

She was humming a carol and scouring a spot where a raisin had
been crushed into the boards when the room went black about
her.

She yelped, instinctively lifting her hands to the soft cloth
David had used to cover her eyes, but he drew her back against him,
trapping her one-handed.

“
The eighth kiss is one of darkness.” He nipped her ear between
his teeth and feathered his tongue along her ear lobe, causing her
to drop her washcloth as sensation flooded into her. “A dark and
secret kiss, a trusting kiss.”

He deftly tied the cloth around her head, and she made no
efforts to remove it.
A trusting
kiss
echoed in her mind as he guided her,
gently coaxing and suggesting, “Step over a log here. Good! Keep
close to me.”

A stool scraped along the floor, and then she was being led
again.

“
A few more paces. Good!”

Alis knew where she was, yet not. The world had shrunk to the
feel of David’s arm around her and his hand around hers, the
musk-salt-and-leather scent of him, the moan and swish of the wind
and snow, bleating to be let in.

“
Sit, sweeting. Good!”

She felt the stool and breathed out when she settled on it,
absurdly pleased, although only a few days before she might have
thought he was ordering her like a hound and objected. Now she knew
better—this was play.

David was moving beside her. She felt the amazing shock of his
skin against hers as he knelt and wound his arms about her middle.
He had stripped to his braies, she realized, trailing her fingers
up his naked arms and shoulders with delight.

“
A kiss of peace.” He embraced her softly, his lips light and
tingling as a snowflake on her mouth. “A kiss of gifts.”

She heard a rustling then felt something cold dip into the
front of her bodice. Flinching slightly, she relaxed as David
gently hung a chain about her throat. Her roving fingers traced the
jewel suspended on the chain.

“
I made it for you,” he said, sounding almost shy. “Copper and
garnets.”

“
Thank you.” She shifted slightly to embraced him and found his
lips meeting hers.

They kissed, and though she was blindfolded, Alis closed her
eyes, reveling in it all, her girlhood dream and desire finally
made real. He was so hard and powerful, yet so gentle; it made her
feel both helpless and strong at the same time.

We cherish each other
. She found her
eyes were wet.

“
Eight,” she said softly, when he drew back a
little.

“
Eight,” he answered and hugged her tightly.

Soon after, he untied the cloth across her eyes and slipped
out to check on the horses again, while she stared at her copper
jewel. It was as bright as his hair, she thought, and most
delicately made, a curving D and A intertwined. She looked at it
until her eyes blurred afresh with tears before releasing it,
feeling the copper bouncing gently between her breasts, warming her
there, just over her heart.

Overwhelmed by the quiet, compelling kiss and the gift, she
felt shy again when David returned, though he seemed to notice
nothing. He built up the fire then asked if he might check over
their saddles.

“
'Tis your house,” Alis answered, but he shook his head,
surprising her.

“
The house is your kingdom,” he said.

“
Yes, then,” she said, adding, “May I help? I am a saddler's
daughter.”

She noticed a sudden glint in his eyes, as if that was what he
had intended, all along, but he answered as mildly as a summer's
day, “Go to it.”

* * *
*

David carried his saddle over to the fire and beckoned to her.
She hesitated, sensing he was up to wickedness, no doubt, but
finally she came. He gave her no time to reconsider, but scooped
her up and over the saddle, face down with her skirts
up.

“
The best way to clean any saddle is to drape a sinful wench
across it and let her wrigglings do it for you,” he gloated,
pinning her down with one hand and smacking her with the other. She
writhed and kicked, but he had her now.

“
One. Two. Three. Four.” He counted the light, playful spanks,
and she squirmed and gasped, but she did not protest, his young new
wife, rather when he paused for an instant to flick a spitting twig
away from her skirts, she lifted her hips toward him.

“
Aye, aye, you are right, we should be closer,” he murmured,
and he lifted her off the saddle and carried her to the bed. The
saddle would give them a stage for rough play, but he wanted her
tight against him, and he wanted her comfortable. He settled on the
bed and put her over his lap, with her upper body and head
comfortable on the mattress.

Her skirts had fallen back across her thighs, and he stroked
her through the cloth. She clutched the pillow but said
nothing.

He fondled her slowly. This was a pleasure he had lusted after
for many years, and he intended to make it last. “If you wish me to
stop, say 'stop' or 'no,' Alis.”

“
I will.” Her voice was an echo of her marriage
vows.

His hand traced her ripe, pert curves. The cloth of her gown
clung over her, and he was content to caress her this way,
remembering a moment, years ago, when he had accidentally stumbled
across Alis about to be paddled by her mother.
She was fourteen and in the dairy. Her mother had made her
bend over a table and was about to slap her with a spoon. I burst
in to stop her.

He was glad, too.
No one hurts my
Alis, including me
.

He leaned over her now and kissed her face. “More?”

“
Go to it,” she whispered, using his own words, and then
whimpering, as if to deny what she had just said.

David smiled and continued to caress her legs and thighs and
bottom. She rocked against him, her eyes half-closed. “More,” she
mumbled, burying her face in the pillow.

He drew back her long blue skirts, rolling and tucking them
around her waist. He pinched her bottom lightly, and she
laughed.

“
Pretty Alis.” His head was buzzing with desire, and despite
his time out in the stable, he was burning again, lust tempered by
care.

Let her smart and sting but not too much, pleasure not
pain.

“
Kisses, but a different kind,” he said aloud and began
again.

He spanked her lightly and fast, glimpsing often at her face
as her bottom changed color from white to pink to deep rose. By
now, she was wide-eyed and open-mouthed, jerking with each smack as
her breath came in great spurts.

He could smell her rising desire, and now he slapped her rosy
behind with more force, alternating spanks on each cheek. “Here the
ninth kiss. The tenth. Eleventh…”

She gave a great moan and thrashed across his lap. He laid her
fully on the bed, and she twisted round at once and opened her arms
and thighs.

She was ready for him, more than ready. Sliding into her was
like quenching a sword after smelting, a fast, starry cooling, a
wondrous transformation. He sank into her embracing, pulsing
depths, thrusting so hard and fast he feared for an instant he was
hurting her.

“
More,” she cried, wrapping her legs around his middle, drawing
him in still deeper. “Davey!”