The Iron Princess (17 page)

Lothair held the freshly written contract up to the black, soggy sky. The slushy rain left long streaking smears of ink across the date and location, exactly as he’d planned. Their marriage was official—when and where it took place would be irrelevant a few months from now. Katia Magnusdotter of Tronscar was lawfully, before the eyes of God, his wife.

Lars and Tosha said their farewells outside the church, politely turning down the offer to spend the night at Lothair’s home. Lothair did not blame Lars for being anxious to get his young wife home and into his own warm, dry bed, which was less than a half-hour ride away.

The friends made arrangements to reunite at the Lars’s residence the following day for a wedding feast that would masquerade as a homecoming.

Katia was staring blankly down the empty lane that connected his modest castle with the church grounds. His home was only a fraction of the size of the fortress in Tronscar—she would no doubt be underwhelmed by the comparison.

He rode ahead, leading her up the gently sloped cobblestones to the principal entry of the castle grounds. From there, they made their way through a series of narrowing pathways, ascending over a ramp to come into the secondary courtyard, and then through another winding, narrow ally. There was no direct path to the doors of the principal keep—his father had designed the maze pattern for added security. No invading intruder would have a quick or easy path to his door.

During the countless hours spent in the saddle over the last two months, he had dreamed of the moment he could once again set foot on his own secure land. So many times he had come close to losing her. He’d slept with one eye open, sword in hand for more nights than he could count, and now here she was, safe behind thick walls and well-guarded gates, with his trusted men at the ready. Lothair never thought he could ever feel so relieved or contented to be home.

Katia had not smiled all day. Her hair was wet and flat to her head, her skin pale from the damp cold that had no doubt sunk deep into her core. She looked pitiful and beyond exhausted.

Without saying a word, he reached up and swept her into his arms, cradling her to his chest. He found her silence unsettling. She slumped into his arms, turning her face into his neck and shoulder. A strong surge of possessiveness took over. She truly belonged to him now. It was no longer an unwritten obligation to protect her, but his duty.

Forcing her to accept him out of a sense of obligation for his own safety was a step firmly toward the dishonorable side of his moral fence. He’d bullied her to get what he wanted, but at the moment, feeling her breath on his neck, he didn’t care about honor. The ends justified the means.

He strode across the polished, white stone floor of the entry hall. At a quick glance he could see his mother’s strict standard of cleanliness hadn’t lessened in his absence. He may have been the baron of this castle, but all that served here knew who the true authority was. He’d never cared really how this place was run . . . not until this very moment.

A sense of peace began to fill him.

In many ways, Lothair felt reborn. He was able to finally feel acceptance for his father’s hasty remarriage, let go of old insults, and open his heart to the dream of something new: a family of his own making.

Upon entering the hall, Katia hadn’t even bothered to raise her head.

“Are you hungry?” he asked quietly, not wanting to wake her if she’d fallen asleep.

She shook her head but still did not raise her gaze to meet his.

“Are you cold?”

She nodded.

Loud gasps came from the top of the staircase, followed by a rush of skirts around him as servants descended upon them from all directions. Torches and candles were held up to examine the soaked young woman in his arms, and an excited flood of questions soon followed the hum of greetings.

“Master Lothair, we feared you would never return to us!” Isa, his mother’s close friend and principal housekeeper, was wiping away a steady stream of tears. Shaped much like a stuffed hen, she was frequently tearful and out of breath for no apparent reason.

“Isa, I’m happy to find you in good health. Where is my mother?” he asked, still holding Katia in his arms.

“At your sister’s keep; her time draws near. Master, may I be of assistance?” Isa was eyeing his wife with concern.

“My wife is exhausted from our journey, Isa, and soaked through. Would you be so kind as to have a bath and perhaps some soup sent to our chamber? And if possible a few gowns—her satchel will most likely be wet as well.”

Lothair climbed the stairs two by two. Silent, somber blackness greeted him as he entered the master’s chamber, reminding him of why he had never liked this room. He placed Katia in a padded chair next the cold hearth. Servants bustled in, carrying armloads of wood and lit candles, curious expressions on their faces as they inspected their new mistress. Tomorrow Lothair would have a lot of introductions to make, but not tonight. Tonight the only person he cared to focus his attention on was his shivering bride.

***

The pleasant part of being so very cold and exhausted was that it left a person numb, both in body and spirit. Sitting in front of a blazing fire, Katia did not even have the agility to unfasten her cloak pin, her stiff fingers not aided by her trembling arms. She gave up for a moment to warm her hands by the fire, and turned her head to take in her surroundings.

It wasn’t a large room in scale, but practical—it seemed to warm in minutes with just a modest fire. They must be in the highest level in the castle, because the ceiling beams were exposed, arched and curved overhead, offering a decorative maze of carved patterns in the timber. She imagined a person could stare at it for hours and never be bored. A large window with green-colored glass twinkled, reflecting back the candlelight. Deep red velvet cushions sat upon a window seat, and she couldn’t help wonder which of Lothair’s paramours had picked them out for him. He did say he had been with several women. Men never sat idly by windows, staring out into the distance.

Katia cursed herself under her breath. She’d done it again—burdened him, unfairly inserted herself in his life. She had forced him into a role he’d never wanted: husband.

As Lothair moved about his chamber, peeling off layers of weapons, armor, and leather, he spoke in soft, even tones to the servants. He exchanged greetings and pleasantries, making several polite requests. During their journey he had been hard, borderline brutish, making demands of her and others in their party, but here, in the comfort of his home, his demands dissolved to mannerly petitions.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes.” Lothair knelt before her and unfastened her cloak pin. He unwrapped her from the damp garment and handed it off to a passing servant with a smile of thanks. An army of servants continued to move in and out of the chamber, carrying hot water, clothing, and trays of wine and food.

Lothair poured Katia a generous portion of wine. “Drink it quickly. The strong drink will help warm you from the inside.” He was correct, and within a few minutes of sitting by the fire, Katia was able to blink past her daze.

“Your chamber is lovely, Lothair,” she said in a nervous tone she barely recognized. She had never felt more inferior to him than in this moment.

“I am glad you approve.” The last servant had left, and he walked across the rich burgundy rug and slid a large iron bolt across the top of the door. As always, the effortless manner in which he carried himself dazzled her, his broad frame moving with such confident grace.

“Would you like to bathe alone?” he asked, nodding over toward the shiny copper tub that had been brought in by servants and filled with steaming water.

“I don’t . . . I’m not . . .” She tried to breathe. Memories of his soapy backside flashed through her head and she could feel heat rising to her cheeks.

“Katia Magnusdotter at a loss for words?”

He chuckled slightly and walked over to her, pushed her hair off out of the way, and untied the lace to her damp wool traveling gown, then raised her to her feet before him and pulled off her shoes. She was enthralled, mesmerized by the sight of him undressing her.

Without a word or hesitation, he removed all of her garments with care and skill, piece by soggy piece. Her heart beat with increasing speed as the layers were stripped away. She commanded herself not to shy away. She wanted Lothair to see her as a woman, not simply his burdensome charge. She wanted him to desire her. That was what she read in his eyes, was it not? Desire? He wanted her. Though she was nervous of what was to come next, she was not afraid.

Lothair’s eyes had stayed focused on his task, until he pulled the final small lace at the collar of her shift and their eyes locked to one another. He pushed the thin fabric off her shoulder, and his eyes slowly traveling down as the garment lowered to her hips. His hands stilled for a brief moment as he studied her body. Her breasts were cold, the tips sticking out in hard points.

Did he like what he found, Katia wondered? She stood shivering in her stockings, and he answered her unspoken plea by sweeping her up again into his arms, engulfing her with his warmth.

He carried her high against his chest, crossing the chamber in just a few strides and placing her down on the large canopied bed. Her weight sank into the feather mattress and he took a step back. He didn’t smile or look her in the eye, but just stared soberly at her nakedness. He had seen her breasts before. Perhaps his familiarity with her body rendered her unappealing?

Slowly, with great intensity, Lothair slid down the last of her shift, exposing her entirely. His eyes took her in as if he were inspecting a serious matter of business. He removed her stockings, one by one. It felt glorious to be touched by him this way.

Naked and exposed before his gaze, she felt no shame, no fear. This was Lothair. Whatever he wanted or didn’t want from her, she would grant him. Lying naked beneath his hands felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Although he was still annoyingly fully clothed, Lothair bent over her, hovering an achingly short distance from her lips. He breathed her in and slowly lowered his mouth to hers for a soft kiss. After a few moments, he stood back up and picked up her right foot, raised it to his mouth, and kissed her toes. He rubbed heat back into her cold toes, kissing each one several times. She could not blink or look away—she was mesmerized by the confident, purposeful intent of Lothair’s motions.

He kissed and caressed every inch of her skin as he moved up her body. He kissed a bruise on her shin, and then her knees, and finally placed several long kisses on her thighs. When he placed a kiss on the short curls that covered her womanhood, she sucked in a startled breath. But he didn’t linger, moving on to her belly and then to her chest, where he stopped and lingered for what felt like hours. By the time he moved higher, she was light-headed and blissfully warm.

His lips traveled higher, to her neck, her throat, her ear, and then stopped and hovered over her mouth. Finally he pressed his lips to hers, and as he deepened the kiss, she opened, releasing all tension, welcoming him to take what he pleased. Their tongues met and she moaned as his hand began to caress and explore once again. His fingers pressed in gently as he stroked her, swirling small circles with the perfect amount of pressure, and the sensation sent her twisting, quivering, and arching for more.

She wanted desperately to touch him, but the fear of failure to please won out. She closed her eyes as he dominated her mouth, taught her things she had not known existed in the world.

It felt like they had been kissing for hours, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. His lips left her and she instantly felt deprived. She opened her eyes to see Lothair’s bare chest hovering over her. When had that happened? He shifted above her, using his thigh to spread her legs wide and lowering himself between them.

“Hold on to my shoulders, Kat. Just breathe for me, sweetling.”

A moment later, Lothair joined their bodies as one.

She hissed in a sharp breath with the stinging pain, burying her face into the crook of his neck as Lothair rocked slowly into her.

“Lothair.” She gasped as another, new sensation took her over. A sensation that she remembered from the night he touched her.

“Surrender to me, Kat,” his husky voice whispered in her ear. “Do not fight it. Let your body take me in.” She was consumed by the feeling of pleasure mixing with a dull throbbing pain. She fought for breath, filling her lungs with the raw, male scent of Lothair’s damp skin.

“Lothair!” She cried, her nails digging into his backside.

Lothair slowed his movements, holding himself deep inside her. He reclaimed her lips, lightly biting and sucking, whispering quiet words to her that she could not quite understand.

“You are mine.” Was that what she had heard? Or perhaps it was what she wanted to believe she heard?

***

Lothair held himself motionless, reluctant to remove himself from her body until she asked him to. He would stay connected to her for the remainder of the night and into the next if possible. All of his ambition for life had ceased to exist in this moment; now his only goal was to repeat this act every day and every night.

He raised his head, gazing into his wife’s beautiful, half-hooded eyes. He kissed her swollen lips. He couldn’t help a smile of pride.

“Come, I’ll scrub your back.” He smiled at her dazed expression and slowly shifted his hip to withdraw from her.

She locked her leg around his calf muscle. “Must we bathe so soon? May we not just have another few moments?”

He chuckled. “We need not move ever again, wife, if that is your desire.”

“Wife? We are alone now, Lothair. You need not pretend.”

“Aye, Katia, wife. That is the title given to a woman who vowed before God and signed a contract of marriage. You are wed and now most properly bedded, Baroness Blienskastel of Hanseatz.”

“That is certainly a mouthful, is it not?” She giggled.

“Indeed it is.” He kissed her and eased back. If he didn’t remove himself from her quickly, he was bound to take her again, and her inexperienced body was surely too tender for that.