One Snowy Knight (29 page)

Skena reached out and placed her hand on Noel’s shoulder, needing to touch this special man who brought magic to their lives.

“I love you, Noel de Servian,” she whispered as she watched him with her children, knowing just how blessed they were with his coming.

At a given signal, Noel scooped up a surprised Skena from her chair, and then ran for the stairs. Guillaume, Stephan, and Emory neatly stepped in a phalanx to block the doorway of the Great Hall, thus preventing the merrymakers from giving chase. He had heard Scots oft played mischief, even abducted the bride in an effort to torment the married couple and forestall their wedded bliss. While understanding the mischief would be intended in the spirit of good fun, he would have naught of those devilries. Nor did he want to go through any damnable bedding ceremony. He just wanted Skena all to himself.

Once through the door of the lord’s chamber, Noel kicked it closed, then stalked to the bed and playfully tossed Skena upon it. Going back, he slid the bolt on the lock to prevent any ‘well-meaning’ interruptions. His chest filled with the heady male sense of ownership as he slowly returned to the high-platform bed, his eyes drinking in this beauty who was now his. Life felt good. Damn good indeed.

“Smartly done, de Servian. You outfoxed the foxes.” Skena laughed, getting up to walk across the bed on her knees to him. Eyes flashing, she unbuckled his belt.

He grinned. “I have my…moments.”

“Moments?” She ran her hand down the front of his surcoat, setting his erection to throb insistently. “Just…fleeting…shards…of…time? I would have thought you capable of more…so…much…more.”

As the belt dropped to the floor, his hands seized Skena’s waist and pulled her against him. His woman. His lady wife. His life. Finally, after all these empty years, he was no longer alone.

“Of late, I find that I am very possessive. I want no men stealing kisses from you after your maidservants tuck you up in bed, or worse some of them carrying you off to vex me.” He lowered his head to take her mouth in a branding kiss of ownership. Suddenly, kissing was not enough. Not nearly enough. He pulled away from her and ordered, “Take off your kirtle, wife.”

“You are constantly demanding I remove my attire.” She pushed her first finger at his belly. “I want to take things off you, de Servian. You, with your fox ways, foiled the bedding rituals, thus I am forced to perform the inspection on my own. I need to ken if you come to me without flaw before I accept you as worthy to be my lord husband.”

He chuckled at her mischievousness. “You already know my every blemish. I have a wound healing on my back, and there is a line on my left arm—reminder never to underestimate the quickness of Julian Challon. As I recall, you little minded either. Then, there is something about my being beautiful?”

“Cease the blether, or I will go call for help with the disrobing,” Skena threatened, climbing off the high bed.

“You call for help from those meddling mischief makers, and I will beat you for certain.” He turned to catch her, only she evaded him, spinning around behind his back.

“Always with the threats, de Servian.”

He rotated after her. “Cease making me go around in circles, or I shall beat you for making me dizzy. No more idle threats—I mean it.”

“Then stop turning, and you will not get lightheaded.” She pushed at his chest, until he dropped back to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling before him, she worked at the knots on his boot lacings.

With Skena on her knees before him, Noel had a hard time drawing air. He grinned like a king’s fool. Someday soon he would teach her why. “If I kiss you may I be Noel again?”

“I am nay lass to be had for a kiss,” she taunted, pulling off his boots. “Stand, whilst I disrobe and inspect you.”

He arched a brow in challenge. “Nay. I require a bribe, wife.”

“A kiss?” she asked.

Noel nodded slowly. “Already she comes to know my thoughts.”

Skena wiggled her fingers as if trying to make up her mind. “Tis only one problem, de Servian—you have a habit of not stopping at a single kiss.”

“I have heard no maidenly protestings. If my memory serves me correct, I recall someone gasping,
oh, Noel, do not stop…please do not stop
last night.” His hands gripped her about the ribcage, his thumbs brushing under her breasts.

Swatting at his hands, she lifted his surcoat over his head, and then loosened the drawstring on his silk sark. Skena slowly pushed the material up his chest and then tugged it off.

Her eyes glowed with appreciation. “I admit a passing fondness for your chest.” She ran her palms up the smooth ripples of his stomach to his strong shoulders, then outward. “As well, I concede your arms are—”

“Beautiful?” he mocked, standing up.

Damn, but he loved this woman. She made him happy. Skena gave him the bright promise of joyful days to come. The only regret to touch his life now was that Fate had not set them on the road to finding each other long before ravens and a snowstorm brought him to her.

She nodded faintly. “One might say that.” Her hand on his shoulder, she walked slowly around him. Placing a kiss between his shoulder blades, she stopped by his other side to undo the points of his chausses, where the lacings attached to his braies at the hips. She moved in front of him, and leaned to brush her lips over his, taunting, then hopped away as he tried to pull her to him.

“Enough, Skena. This grows maddening,” he growled.

“Cease fashing, or I will scream for help,” she teased, untying the points on the other side of his hip. “Surely, the brave warriors of Challon would rush to a maiden’s aid and restrain you whilst I complete the viewing?”

“One step toward that door, my love, and I shall stuff a rag in your mouth and lash you to the bedposts,” he warned, kicking out of the woolen chausses.

Skena stepped against him, pressing her soft lips to the side of his throat, while she dragged her fingernails lightly up the insides of his thighs. His body flexed taut as a bow when her hands continued across the front of the braies to loosen the drawstring. Small beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Eyes flashing, she nipped at his chin as she pushed the cloth down over his hips. Bringing her hand up between their bodies, she wrapped her strong fingers around the base of his shaft and then leisurely worked the soft, burning flesh toward the mushroomed tip. “Is this one of those other ways for a woman to warm a man’s blood? Faster ways?”

“Ah…aye…lass. ’Tis also a way…to push him…ah…to madness.” He sucked air, fighting to focus on what she was saying. Unable to stand it anymore, his hand clamped around her wrist, stopping her movements. “Enough, witch, or this will be a short bedding. Have you finished your scrutiny? Am I deemed of worth?”

Skena ran her hands over his arms, then to his neck and finally his chest. She nipped his earlobe and whispered, “I think you will do.”

“Good.” Taking hold of her hips, he spun her to face away. “Tis my turn to assure myself you are without fault and fit to be my lady wife.”

With trembling hands, he took hold of the ends of the gold lacings up the back of her gown, and somehow he managed to undo the knot. As he slid the golden cord through the eye hooks, he reined in the urgency pressing him to rip open the back of the gown. He had a feeling Skena would treasure this dress, and mayhap one day Annis might don it to wed some handsome warrior. Stiffening his resolve, he carefully drew the cord back and forth, until he feared his teeth would crack from gnashing them.

Finally, the long cord pulled free. Sucking in a steadying breath, he pushed the dark red velvet to each side to reveal the perfection of Skena’s back. Noel pushed his trembling hands inside the kirtle, feeling the heat off her flesh. She shivered. As he peeled the gown over her shoulders, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her back. Trapped by the gown across her upper arms, she could only stand while he chained kisses along the strong slope to her neck. She shivered, the gooseflesh raising as his tongue swiped out to taste her. Pressing his body to mold to hers, he savored the power in him, relished how she trembled.

He craved to push her forward, her belly to the plane of the bed, and take her with one swift plunge. Only this night was for Skena. He had a feeling her wedding night to Fadden had fallen far short of what young girls dream. This night was about teaching her the full meaning of love, how this physical expression would seal their bond, making them one. Instead of releasing the full strength of his yearnings, he carefully kissed his way down her spine until he was on his knees. Turning her around, he slowly peeled the gown from her body. He drew her to him, squeezing her tightly as he placed the side of his head to her heart, listening to the rapid beating.

Skena’s hand reached out to softly cup his chin, and then lifted until their eyes met. Her thumb swiped away the single tear that fell from his eye. “Why do you cry? Are you not happy with me?” Her lip trembled as she awaited his answer.

His throat choked with emotions. Speaking was too hard. Finally, he forced out the words. “Happy? Yes. I feel that and more. Howbeit, I am humbled by our love—and more terrifying mayhap because of my child’s days—I taste the panic of what would happen to me if I ever lose you.”

This time, the tear that fell came from her eye. “I understand for I, as well, tremble with that fear. Love me, Noel. Make me forget that darkness.”

Skena reached out and took his face into her hands, her shimmering eyes speaking more than words ever could. She leaned to him, her soft mouth moving over his, burning as fired-iron. The muscles in his arms tensed to steel to prevent him from crushing her any tighter, so moved was he by the power of this rare emotion. Love. A force that could topple kingdoms. Or drive a man insane. He loved Skena with every shade of his soul, to the depth of his heart, a magic no wizard could ever match. It made him stronger. It saw him weak.

Pulling back, she kissed his right cheek, then the left. “I love you my snowy knight. What magic was cast that night which brought me to you! What wondrous, beautiful magic!”

Noel could no longer rein in. Rising to his feet, he took her mouth and let loose age-old mating instincts. He kissed her, holding back nothing, spearing his tongue into her mouth in a rhythm that would echo how his body would soon claim hers. Barely aware of what he was doing, he pushed the gown down off her arms, the soft velvet pooling at their feet. Skena was left in only a thin chemise. He started to remove that as well, but changed his mind, liking how it both shielded and revealed her flesh. Leaning her back to the bed’s plane, he followed her down, relishing the feel of having Skena under him.

Running her hands up his arms and to his shoulders, she toyed with the curls at the back of his neck. Skena rasped out a plea, “Show me all the ways to make a man burn.”

The mating scent filtered through his blood, setting scorching fire to roll within him. It nearly blotted out all thoughts, so primitive the power. He covered her body with his, pressing down with the heaviness of his muscles, letting her feel his heart thunder a cadence of love. He kissed her hair and whispered the raw desperation born of years of loneliness, “Love me, Skena. Never stop.” His hands cupped her neck, his thumbs brushing lightly along her throat. “So many years I have yearned for you. Needed you.”

He chained kisses along her jaw, then over her cheek and to her temple. Leaning his head against hers, he closed his eyes and reveled in the overpowering emotions filling his entire being. He never knew love could be so intense, making all that had come before pale shades by comparison. He could tell her a thousand score over that he loved her. It would not be enough. Never enough.

His hand palmed over the side of her hip and then down to her bare thigh until he found the hem of the chemise. Slowly, agonizingly, he gathered the fabric to her waist, the gauzy material rasping over her sensitized skin. Rolling to his side, he drank in the arousing beauty of her body, how the thin material clung to her full breasts, how the shadowy tips pushed against the fabric with each breath. He gently curved his hand around her right breast, feeling the tightness of the soft mound, speaking to him of how she responded to him. It was torture. Finally, he dragged the chemise over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her naked.

Skena was still unsure of the ways of men and women. She trembled, but held still for his gaze to devour her, clearly wanting his pale eyes to look upon her breasts, yearning for him to stare at her with his unveiled desire. In the days to come, she would become more bold. For now, he relished his role as tutor.

Barely breathing, he just gazed at her. “My beautiful lady wife.” He did not move for several heartbeats, stunned by the impact of his dreams now being a reality. He wanted to make this last, but feared his body would betray him. The wanting twisted his gut, a writhing, living creature demanding appeasement. The insistent pounding of his groin was agony.

He searched her eyes, allowing her mind to speak to him with the kenning, for yes, he now believed she could reach him in this manner. No longer fearing this power, he opened himself to her. What he saw in her eyes’ brilliance was more than any man could hope for, more than any deserved. He was blessed—whether it was by his God or hers he little knew. Little cared. She was his, and he would fight to protect her, kill to keep her.

Lowering his mouth to her breast, he heard the hiss of air from Skena as his lips latched around the tip. His tongue swirled around the stiffening peak, feeling the flesh tighten with each stroke. When he suddenly drew on it her hips flexed off the bed. Her hands fisted in his hair at the back of his head as though to keep her from coming apart.

He moved to press his mouth between the valley of her breasts and then slowly glided kisses down the center of her belly. She tensed when he reached the dark curls, likely afraid he planned to move even lower…mayhap even secretly curious about the dark lure. He hesitated, hovering just above her, allowing his hot breath to caress the soft hair. A wicked grin spreading across his lips, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her mons, feeling her hips arch in fear…in temptation.

“The night is so wonderfully long this time of year,” he whispered as he covered her body with his. When her muscles relaxed, he laughed. “Only a reprieve, my love.”