Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance) (26 page)

Sybilla de Montbryce tapped on the door of the chamber where her daughters were putting the finishing touches to the bridal ensembles of their soon to be sisters-by-marriage.

Appalled by what she had learned of Maudine Lallement, and amazed both girls had grown into such beautiful, generous women, she had vowed to lavish on them the love they had never received from their own mother.

“My sons await their brides at the chapel door,” she announced, “and I wish a word alone with my future daughters-by-marriage.”

Bernadine and Florymonde kissed Paulina and Rosamunda on the cheek and left.

Paulina fidgeted with the sleeve of her dress. “Madame de Montbryce, Rosamunda and I thank you for these lovely gowns. Neither of us has ever worn anything as beautiful.”

Sybilla smiled. “Please, call me
Maman
. It has been my pleasure to provide you with wedding gowns. What you are doing for me far outweighs what I have done for you.”

Both women frowned.

Sybilla took Rosamunda’s hand. “When Adam left home after his illness, I despaired for him. He had lost so much. I understand from what he has told me that you accepted to be his wife before you became aware he had recovered his ability to have children.”

Rosamunda smiled. “Love him.”

Sybilla wanted to weep tears of gratitude. “I believe your love has aided his recovery, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It matters not a whit that you are mute. Be patient with us and we will learn to understand you as well as your sister.”

“
Merci, Maman
,” Rosamunda mouthed, her eyes bright with excitement.

No wonder he loves her!

Sybilla turned to Paulina and took a deep breath. “I have prayed daily that Denis would fall in love with a woman who loved him in return. He is a man who has triumphed over great adversity, but I have sensed his loneliness. You, Paulina Lallement, are indeed the answer to my prayers. I give my first born son over to your loving care.”

~~~

Adam watched his wife charm the people of Belisle as she moved from table to table at the wedding banquet. He had to admit to a pang of disappointment when she had first appeared at the chapel door, her hair neatly bound up in some sort of tower arrangement, no doubt the work of Florymonde.

It pleased him that her wayward tresses had inevitably escaped the hairpins. Now she looked like his Rosamunda. He itched to run his fingers through her hair once they were alone in their bridal chamber.

He had worried on and off over the past few days, as excitement over the double wedding mounted in the castle and its environs, if he would be adequate to the task of bedding his wife. What if his malady returned? But the insistent throbbing between his legs as he watched her reassured him all would be well.

He glanced over at Denis who was practically salivating, his gaze fixed on Paulina’s breasts. Like Adam, he watched his wife as she accompanied her sister around the Hall.

Adam coughed loudly, drawing Denis’ attention. “I’m for bed. How about you, brother?”

Denis grinned broadly. “I’ll get the bishop.”

Adam was only vaguely aware of what had gone on behind the screen where Rosamunda had been prepared for bed. He was too busy covering himself as Denis and Mathieu stripped him before the assembled well wishers. His bride’s blush warmed him as she was escorted to the bed, eyes downcast.

“You’re fortunate I’ll be occupied pleasing my wife, Denis de Sancerre, else I’d get my revenge when you are escorted to your chamber.”

Paulina turned away, her face redder than Rosamunda’s. Adam chuckled inwardly. Wait till she saw Denis naked. For a small man—

Rosamunda averted her eyes when Denis and Mathieu escorted him to bed, making a great show of tucking them in tightly.

The bishop intoned his blessing, sprinkled them with holy water, then the merry band departed for Denis’ chamber. Antoine was the last to leave, with a wink and a smile.

Rosamunda lay rigid, hugging the linens to her chin. Her face was flushed, her rosemary scented hair in its usual tempting disarray, despite what Adam supposed had been the efforts of his mother’s maidservant to tame it with a comb.

They lay side by side. She must know he was naked beneath the linens. What had become of his adventurous bride who feared nothing?

Of course!

He had been so preoccupied with his own concerns, he had failed to give a thought to Rosamunda’s fears.

He turned onto his side and leaned up on his elbow. He tugged the linens away from her chin. “May I see your bridal nightgown?”

She turned her enormous green eyes to him and let go of the linens. It was all he could do not to rip the flimsy chemise off her body and plunge into her virginal tightness.

He peeled the linens off her and pushed them to the bottom of the bed with his feet, revealing his own nakedness. She stared at the ceiling. “Don’t be afraid, my love. Look at me.”

She sniffled as a tear trickled down her cheek. “Nervous,” she mouthed.

His heart skittered as her nipples hardened, straining against the fabric of the silky nightgown. He felt it important to be forthright, to tell her of his resolve to come virgin to his marriage bed. “I’m nervous too. This is my first time with a woman.”

She swivelled her head to look into his eyes. “What?”

He took hold of her hand and placed it on his shaft, curling his fingers around hers. Waves of pleasure swept up his spine. “I have never entered a woman, Rosamunda. You will be the first.”

His arousal grew beneath her hand.

Her puzzled gaze flickered to his groin. Doubtless she was thinking of Poling.

“You’re remembering when I did this?” He bent his head to swirl his tongue over a distended nipple. She increased her grip on his shaft, lifting her hips off the bed.

He came to his knees, cradled her in his arms, lifted her off the bed, and set her on her feet.

She braced her hands on his shoulders, clearly wondering what he was doing.

He reached down to the hem of her nightshift and quickly peeled it off over her head. “I am naked. You should be too. It works better that way.”

She giggled, sending another wave of blood rushing to his groin. He stepped back to admire her. She was everything he had dreamed of. Perfect breasts with rigid pink nipples. Big areolas, a shade darker. Her waist was so tiny he could probably span it with both hands, then her body widened to shapely hips. He licked his lips imagining her flat belly swollen with his child.

The hair at her mons was darker, but he remembered its curly texture from Poling. With those long tapering legs, no wonder she was a great horsewoman. He almost spilled thinking of her riding him.

She made no attempt to cover her body. It thrilled him that she was obviously enjoying his perusal. His brave girl was back.

He hugged her to his chest and buried his nose in her hair. “I could spend the night making love to your hair.”

She laughed, pressing her fingertips into the hair on his chest. “Soft.”

He nibbled her earlobe until she scrunched up her shoulder. “Tickles.”

When he had first removed her nightshift, her skin had felt chilled. Now her body had warmed and he caught the enticing aroma of female arousal. He picked her up and put her back on the bed. She looked at him through half lidded eyes. He kissed one nipple. “I want to suck these lovely tits now, until you scream.”

He was instantly contrite. “I’m sorry, Rosamunda.”

She stroked his hair and smiled. “Suck me. I like it.”

He knelt, straddling her thighs, and cupped one breast with his hand. He sucked the nipple, gently at first, but then fully into his mouth as he felt it grow more rigid. She entwined her fingers in his hair, her breathing becoming more rapid.

He grazed his teeth against the nipple, and felt her fingernails digging into his scalp. He blew on the nipple, then sucked hard again. She pushed her thighs against his, fisting her hands into the bed linens. “Adam.”

His shaft throbbed as his
couilles
drew up between his parted legs. He switched to the other nipple, taking her hand and placing it on his sac. “Play with me,” he whispered.

He groaned against the nipple in his mouth as she kneaded him with enough pressure he thought he might go mad with the pleasure. “Perfect,” he growled.

She writhed beneath him. He moved to kneel beside her. She bent her knees and her legs fell open. He kissed her deeply as his fingers drifted down her belly. His shaft bucked as he touched the wet warmth of her nether lips. He felt the ripple of need flow through her as he slid one finger inside, brushing his thumb over her swollen nub. She arched her body into his hand as he slid in a second finger.

“Rosamunda,” he whispered against her cheek as they broke apart for breath. His need to be inside her was urgent, but he wanted her to release as she had at Poling. “Come for me,” he urged, sliding his fingers in and out, playing insistently with the diamond of her desire.

When it came, her release nigh carried her off the bed. It shuddered through her, rocking him to his core. She mouthed his name over and over, and for the first time he regretted he would never hear his name on her lips. He withdrew his fingers, unable to wait any longer for her pulsating muscles to be clamped on his shaft.

He straddled her again, guiding his rigid manhood into the opening of her body and plunged inside quickly. He felt her maidenhead tear, but he could not stop now, consumed with the white heat driving him to completion.

As he shouted her name over and over, an errant thought flew into his brain that he must pledge to make an annual pilgrimage to the Shrine of Saint Alban.

~~~

Rosamunda lifted her hips to lock her legs around Adam’s waist, awed by the passion that underscored the beautiful lines and muscles of his body. He clamped his arms around her thighs, pulling her to the edge of the bed, and came to his feet, bracing his knees against the side of the bed. He drew her legs up to his chest, leaning forward to plunge deeper.

She reached to brush her thumbs over his rigid nipples, relishing the flash of fire in his blue eyes. “I love you,” he rasped, his words carrying her to an even higher level of ecstasy than the one to which he had brought her with his touch.

She dug her fingertips into his powerful thighs, feeling the urgency in his thrusts. The brief moment of pain had disappeared as warmth built within her. Her first timid glimpse of his manhood jutting up from its halo of black curls had been a bit alarming, and she had wondered how he could possibly insert it into her body, as Paulina had whispered he would.

Now she revelled in the fullness of him inside her as her quivering muscles pulsed in rhythm with her heart. She felt her own need building as he drove harder and harder, until his seed flooded her womb and her own body shattered again as he growled out his release.

He collapsed on top of her. She trailed her fingertips through the sheen of perspiration on his shoulders as her mind wandered through the oft told tale of caves and secret passages, of dark, handsome heroes, rescuing maidens in distress. She had dreamed for years such a hero would come to rescue her. He had saved himself for her. No other would possess him.

Now she lay beneath him, savouring his weight as she felt him soften and leave her body. Adam had not only rescued her, he had brought a hero for her beloved sister as well.

“Prepare yourself, my love. It’s not a pretty sight.”

Denis flung the linens off the bed to reveal his nakedness, his heart in his throat. He knew the ugliness of his body. Would Paulina be repelled?

To make matters worse, his unruly shaft stood arrogantly to attention. He had sometimes thought it a cruel jest of God that a small man should be endowed with such a member.

Paulina’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

He rolled hastily to his side, gathering the linens to cover his groin. “Don’t be afraid.”

She shook her head. “I am no longer afraid, Denis. You have made me recognize the futility of fear. In giving me courage, you have given me back my life.”

He took her hand, savouring her delicate fingers, so different from his own. “My life would mean nothing without you, Paulina. I love you, but how can you love a man like me?”

She shrugged, then came to her knees, quickly pulled her chemise over her head, and whipped the linens away from Denis’ body. She knelt before him naked, her arms outstretched. “All my life, I have hated my body, resented my size. But your eyes tell me you see only beauty.”

Denis wondered how she could believe her breasts were not beautiful. The rigid nipples were exactly the colour he had imagined, the areolas bigger. He licked his lips, longing to swirl his tongue over her pouting globes. “But you are beautiful.”

She cupped her breasts, lifting them to her own perusal. His shaft turned to granite. Her eyes wandered over his body. Strangely, he suddenly felt proud of his masculinity. He clasped his hands behind his head and parted his legs slightly. Paulina looked like she might drool. “You want me!” he cried.

She fixed her gaze on his shaft. “I am consumed with wanting you, Denis. Can I touch you?”

He could only nod, sure if he spoke he would blurt out something incomprehensible.

She reached a finger to touch the tip of his manhood. Predictably it bucked, but she only smiled.

“You see the effect you have on me,” he rasped.

She touched him again, this time circling the swollen top of his phallus. “Silky,” she murmured.

Much as Denis hated to put a halt to the progress they were making towards his ultimate goal, they had an important matter to discuss. He curled her hand around his shaft, then reached up to brush his knuckles across a nipple. Her eyelids fluttered closed. “We need to talk.”

She opened her eyes and frowned. “Talk?”

“In a few short minutes, God willing, I will thrust this monstrosity inside your lovely heat.”

She blushed, the flush spreading across her breasts as well as her face. He dragged his mind back to the matter at hand. “We must decide if I am to spill my seed outside your body—or inside.”

“I don’t understand.”

He groaned inwardly, remembering their talk about cats and teats. Perhaps she did not know how children were created. He longed to fill her belly with his child, but did she understand the risks? Did he have a right to bring children into the world who might bear his affliction?

He swallowed hard. “It is from a man’s seed that children grow.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I want to bear your children.”

He came to his knees, pressing their bodies together, thigh to thigh, chest to breast, his shaft against her belly. He kissed her tears. “Even if they are dwarfs?”

She pulled away and looked into his eyes. “Will we love them any less if they are?”

How could he have been so blind? This woman who had never known love from her own parents would of course cherish children. He had thought to deny her and himself that joy.

He kissed the top of her head, then broke them apart and lay back on the bed, patting the space beside him. “Come here and lay with me. Let’s make a baby.”