Sword for His Lady (23 page)

“Well now…” She moved toward him. “Since there is already water on the floor.”

She lifted her leg and climbed right into the tub.

“Isabel,” he groaned as he guided her down onto his length. “You are truly a prize to be envied.”

She gasped as she took his length, pleasure shooting through her.

How was it possible to enjoy an act so much?

She didn't know and wasn't interested in contemplating an answer. A soft moan was all that escaped from her lips as she reached for his shoulders to steady herself.

“That's it, my beauty…take what you want.”

“I will.” She'd never sounded so demanding before, but she meant it. “I crave you, Ramon.”

It was a dark confession. One that pleased her. She rose and pressed back down on him, her knees settling on each side of his hips. Water sloshed over the rim of the tub as she increased her pace.

“As I do you.” His tone turned savage. She felt it as much as she heard it. Sensation tingled along her skin, raising goose bumps and tightening her nipples. “I must have you.”

His expression tightened and there was a whoosh of water as he stood up, lifting her with him. He turned her and pressed her down onto her knees in the tub.

“I need to claim you.” He pressed his member deep inside her from behind, locking her hips in place with his hands.

She gasped, holding on to the edge of the tub to steady herself. Each thrust drove more water onto the floor. But it also drove a shaft of pleasure through her. She was gasping, unable to draw in enough breath to keep pace with her heart. He was pounding into her, driving his member in and out with a savage rhythm.

“More,” she demanded.
“More!”

“You shall have it,” he snarled next to her ear, driving faster and harder into her. He pulled her hips up, above the water level, as he stood so he could use his legs. She still braced her hands against the edge of the tub but pushed back into every thrust. She was straining toward him, every muscle drawing tight, passion burning away everything except the need to meet his thrusts.

His member was swelling, her body tightening around it. He growled, “Not…
yet!
”

She couldn't make a sound, ecstasy ripping through her. It was blinding. Bursting through her with the force of a thunder clap. She arched, feeling as if her spine might snap, but she didn't care. All that mattered was pressing herself against him, taking his length and holding it.

Ramon shouted her name as his seed spilled. It was hot and sent another ripple of satisfaction through her womb. They ended up kneeling again, Ramon draped along her back.

“You drop me to my knees,” he muttered. “A place I do not mind so long as you are there with me.”

There were several things she didn't mind at all, so long as he was with her.

Didn't mind them at all.

* * *

Ambrose had a black eye the next morning as well. He sat at the table as the maids came to tend to him. They clicked their tongues and put soothing compresses on him. He used the time to admire their cleavage. Ramon's lip was split, a dark scab sealing the wound. He passed Ambrose and the two smirked at each other. Their men who were filling the lower tables slapped the tabletops as they smiled.

Men…

Knights…

She was sick of it all.

In fact, her belly was twisting with nausea. Isabel looked away but her stomach refused to settle. Someone delivered a bowl of steaming porridge and the scent of it made her sick.

She shoved away from the table, running toward the garderobe as she fought the urge to retch. There was nothing in her stomach, but her body heaved all the same. By the time the fit had passed, she was shaking, and sweat darkened her hairline.

“Isabel?” Ramon asked softly.

She groaned. “You do not need to see me like this.”

Her husband was not put off by her words. He cupped her shoulder and pulled her into the light. His dark gaze roamed over her face and noted the quiver in her lower lip.

“You are going back to bed.” He scooped her up. “I will not lose you to fever.”

“I am not hot.”

She should have saved her breath. Ramon carried her through the hall and to the stairs. People dashed out of his path, his boots clacking on the stone floor. People rose from their seats, their eyes widening at the sight.

“Put me down,” she pleaded.

He gave her a hard look. “I will not lose you.”

His tone was strained and he carried her up to their chamber with a speed that accelerated his heartbeat. Ramon didn't notice it though. He didn't stop until he had her back in their bed. He yanked the bedding up to her chin and tucked it around her shoulders.

Only then did she see the worry in his dark eyes. He brushed her forehead, smoothing her hair back with a tender touch.

“I will not lose you.”

“Here, now.” Mildred walked to the doorway with a huff. “There's no need to talk like that, my lord.”

Ramon stood up. “Where is your basket?” he demanded. “She needs it.”

“I do not,” Isabel argued, pushing the bedding away and trying to swing her legs over the side of the bed. “I am not fevered.”

Ramon hooked her knees and dropped her legs back in the bed. “You will rest, Isabel. Even if I must place a guard on you.”

He turned his head around and glared at his squire, Thomas. “Fetch that basket.”

“Aye, my lord,” the youth responded instantly. He was a blur in the doorway before Mildred drew in enough breath to argue.

“There's naught in my basket for what ails my lady,” Mildred said.

Ramon stiffened. “Then tell me what she needs. I will get it.”

Mildred propped her hands on her hips. “Naught but time.” She waved him away from the bed. “Get up now, my lady. Time enough for rest when the babe is born.”

“Babe?” Ramon asked in a whisper.

Isabel started to rise but decided her knees were too weak at the moment.

“Aye.” Mildred nodded. “I thought that might be the case when your robes no longer fit yesterday. It's the breasts that swell first.” She turned and looked at Ramon. “Your seed has taken root. It's been two and a half months since you celebrated your wedding. More than enough time to be sure.”

And she hadn't bled again.

Ramon smiled, his face lighting up until even his midnight-black eyes sparkled. He let out a roar and gathered her up against him. He swung her around several times before putting her down. There was a scuff of boot heels at the door of the chamber as his men responded. Ambrose pushed his way right through them, skidding to a stop when he saw the smile on his lord's face.

“We're to have a child!” Ramon announced. “Ring the bells!”

There was a scuffle on the stairs and a few moments later the bells in the church began to toll happily. Ramon captured her hand and pulled her toward the windows. The shutters were open, the scent of rain in the air. But people came out of the buildings, into the yard, and cheered.

He carried her down the stairs and out into the yard. Everyone forgot their chores and the everyday struggles to survive as musicians pulled out their instruments and filled the yard with melody.

* * *

In the yard, Donald joined the celebration.

He didn't really have a choice. Everyone was dancing. Someone grabbed his hand and tugged him along. Truthfully, he didn't want to resist. He'd never been part of such happiness, and it felt good.

Better than good, even if he didn't know the exact word for the feeling. But soon his belly knotted as he contemplated his duty.

Why did they sing songs about duty when it wasn't anything to be happy about? He was sworn to serve Jacques Raeburn, but all he wished to do was stay at Thistle Keep. Life was different here. Far different than any he had known.

Yet there was his sworn duty.

A man didn't have anything except his honor. Not truly. A title might be taken. Gold could be stolen or easily spent. Honor was all that remained, and he'd given his solemn word to Baron Raeburn.

God would know if he didn't keep his word and refuse him entrance into paradise. Such a sin could never be forgiven.

Donald's heart was heavy but he squared his shoulders and slipped away after dark. The way through the woods was familiar now. Even the twisted shadows no longer scared him into muttering prayers to protect him from evil. No demon had appeared in his many trips through the dark abyss he'd been warned about since childhood.

He only felt the touch of evil when he spied Raeburn's camp. There was a feeling of ungodliness here. Quite different from the sensation he had when he returned to Thistle Keep. Men were clustered around fires, the stench of unwashed bodies stronger than the smoke. Rotten carcasses lay on the edge of the forest from the animals they'd hunted. There wasn't a bare chin in sight.

There was also little order. Men used whores right in the open, grunting like beasts as they labored. Their chosen consorts were pitiful creatures, the lowest of the low: their faces darkened with soot from the fires, their robes filthy on the back from the number of times they had been pushed to the ground. They suffered in silence, accepting food with shaky hands and desperate looks, retreating into the darkness to eat like bitches.

Ungodliness, to be sure.

And yet it was his duty, his desire to refrain from sinning, that forced him to walk among them to the tent in the center of the camp where Jacques Raeburn's flags fluttered above the opening.

* * *

Ramon did not go to bed that night.

Isabel woke only a few hours after she'd retired, but her husband was not at her side. The darkness felt colder and it had nothing to do with the approach of winter.

Or did it?

Was courting not the season of spring in a couple's lives?

Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away.

You
make
no
sense. Ramon has shown you more affection than anyone…

That was true.

It was humiliating the way her emotions wanted to drag her down to the pits of despair. She slipped a hand over her belly but there wasn't even a bulge yet. Just a tenderness and a little less of a waistline. Her breasts ached. That was for certain. Her chemise felt tight across them and she tugged on the fabric, trying to ease it away.

Many husbands didn't share a bed with their wives once there was a babe on the way. She knew it but resented it.

Actually, it stung. Her emotions felt too injured to lie still. She left the bed and went into the outer chamber to see if Ramon was at his desk.

He wasn't. The floor was cold against her feet, and the chamber felt unnaturally large.

Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away.

Stop. It is not so late.

It truly wasn't. He might still be in the hall, enjoying the company of his fellow knights. She should leave him to them.

There was a step outside the doorway, before the door opened. She blinked, not sure if her thoughts had summoned him or if she was dreaming. All that mattered was that Ramon was there, his dark hair looking like liquid midnight.

So strong. Every inch of him was powerful, even his nature.

“You should be in bed, Wife.”

She shrugged, moving back to let the shadows hide her as Thomas followed his master and began to help him disrobe. She crossed her arms over her breasts and they pressed against her chemise. Ramon watched her, and she was sure he noticed things she'd rather he didn't. At least tonight she was grateful for the way he seemed to know her so well.

“Good night, Thomas.”

The squire lowered himself and made good use of his moment to retire. He slept on a cot just outside the doors before the stairs.

“You need your strength,” Ramon said.

“I did sleep, but woke and you were not here.” She bit her lower lip. “That is not to say that you should have been. Only—”

He picked her up and placed her in the bed before sitting on its edge and removing his leggings.

“My men insisted on toasting to our blessing…over and over.” He rolled into the bed and pulled her close. “My head will be splitting in the morning.”

She giggled and gasped at her own lack of control. Ramon chuckled and kissed her brow.

“I believe Ambrose enjoyed making sure I couldn't escape. Someday, fate is going to hand me the opportunity to even the score with him.”

She smoothed her hands along his arms, shaking as she absorbed how real he was.

He shifted and lifted his head. “Why do you shake?”

She tried to ignore the question. It was bad enough that she was being a foolish chit.

He cupped her chin and lifted it. She sighed and opened her eyes. In the dark she could barely see his eyes, but she could feel his gaze on her.

“I am glad you are here.”

“And?” He refused to let her leave things unsaid. “We will both have splitting heads in the morning if you insist on drawing out this conversation. For I can see that something concerns you deeply. I must know what it is.”

She narrowed her eyes but not for long. It warmed her to know that he noticed her distress. Even if it meant he wouldn't stop until he found out what it was.

“I thought perhaps you did not intend to share a bed with me now that I have conceived.” She felt guilty for saying it, and her words hung between them as she waited for him to speak.

“This is our chamber, Isabel. There will be no separate chambers.”

“It is not to say that I would be unhappy—”

“That wounds me to hear.”

He eyes widened. “Truly?” Her voice was barely a whisper but it felt as though the words were a reflection of her soul—that part of her that didn't obey what the world around her said was the way it should be.

“Many men—” she began.

“I conform to what many men in this world think I should on enough issues. On this one, I intend to do as I feel,” Ramon interrupted her. He brushed her cheek before lying down and pulling her against him. “There is no place I would rather be. In truth, I need to have you beside me.”