“Honor? You purchased something? Not here at Oxborough. Your honor didn’t purchase you a single chicken. All you did was ride in with your men, marry me, and become the lord.”
“You have angered me beyond my limits, and my limits have stretched more and more with you with each passing day. I will take no more of this from you. No, I will not hurt you, but I will use you so that finally you will come to understand that it is I—not you—who allows you to be what you are. You have no say in anything. No, hold still.” He dropped her to her feet, then hauled her by the arm to the bed. Both Hastings and Trist went flying back onto their backs. Severin stood at the bedside staring at her. She was sprawled, her legs apart, and he knew immediately that he needed no sermons about his duty to mount her. She was white and very nicely shaped. Her skin glowed with health and youth. He wanted her badly, very badly. She’d thrown water on him. She didn’t deserve that he treat her other than as a disobedient wife.
“It is you who have pressed me, Severin.” She rolled to her side, bringing the covers over her. “Nay, I do not want you to touch me now. You are angry. You will hurt me.”
“Hurt you? Nay, Hastings, I won’t hurt you, though you well deserve it.” He leaned down and pulled the jar of cream from beneath the covers. “Now, turn on your back and show yourself to me.”
She didn’t move.
He roared at her, “Pull off those covers.”
Instead, she flung the covers at him and rolled to the far side of the bed. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. Damn her, she deserved that he hurt her. But he couldn’t. He grabbed the jar, dipped his fingers into it, and came down beside her. “If you move, if you fight me now, you will regret it.” He shoved his finger into her. She quivered but didn’t make a sound. When he came out of her, he found that he had some control. He needed control with her. He looked up and down her body.
“Your breasts are adequate,” he said. She didn’t move. Neither did Trist. He just mewled loudly, staring at Severin. “Adequate, no more.”
Severin touched his hand to her breast. “You adequately fill my hand. You will adequately suckle our sons.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he held her down, his leg over her belly. “I do not like this. You do this to punish me. Let me up, Severin. I must go downstairs to see to your evening meal.”
“Shut up, Hastings. The cream is inside you. When I come into you, it won’t hurt.”
His hand moved to her other breast, cupping it, lifting it, squeezing gently. “Aye, adequate.” Then he looked down her body. He splayed his hand wide over her belly. “I can barely reach your pelvic bones. Aye, you’re made to bear children. At least you have some worth.” Without another word, he grabbed her arms, lifted her, and shoved her down onto her stomach. She reared up, but he just pressed his hand against her waist. “Don’t move.” She felt his hands stroking over her hips. She wasn’t afraid of him, hadn’t been afraid even when he’d lifted her up and shaken her. When he touched her breasts, she still didn’t fear him. His callused fingers scratched at her smooth flesh. It felt odd. But now, he was staring down at her bottom, feeling her. She realized that he was measuring her again to see if she would carry his children. It was too much.
Far too much.
10
SHE COULDN’T BEAR IT. SUDDENLY, HIS FINGERS EASED between her thighs. He touched her woman’s flesh. She reared up, sending Trist to scurry down her back and up Severin’s arm.
“Don’t fight me, Hastings.”
He pulled her onto her back again, bent her knees, and opened them. “Now,” he said, staring down at her. “Now.” Without another word he came into her fast and deep.
She felt the fullness of him, felt herself stretching, but the cream made her slick and it didn’t hurt. She felt him deep and hard inside her. She closed her eyes, seeing him. She wondered what he felt when he pushed
into her, when he moved inward, then pulled out again.
She said, “What are you feeling when you do this to me?”
Severin’s eyes opened. He stared down at her even as he moved, for he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t bear the thought of stopping. “It is beyond words,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw, deep in his throat.
Trist mewled loudly. But Severin didn’t stop. His eyes closed again. He felt her womb. He shuddered. But he rested there only for a moment. She wasn’t moving. He wished she would. He wished in those moments that she would wrap her legs around his flanks. But of course she wouldn’t. She was just lying there whilst he heaved and jerked over her. She didn’t care. She hated him. The only reason she wasn’t fighting him was because she knew she couldn’t win, not with him inside her holding her down.
He stiffened above her. He could feel her squeezing him, and he knew he couldn’t keep control much longer.
She froze, watching his face, watching his intent expression when he looked down at her, looked down at where his body joined hers. Then he threw back his head and yelled. He was jerking over her like a palsied man. She didn’t move.
She said very clearly when he finally stilled above her, “You are an animal. I hate you. If another assassin comes after you again, I will smile and invite him to come closer. If you become ill, I will leave you to yourself. Leave me, Severin. Surely I am not skilled enough, nor enthusiastic enough, nor beautiful enough for you to want to do this to me even one more time. Leave me. I pray you’ll leave Alice alone. She doesn’t deserve this. No woman deserves this.”
He came out of her quickly, coming to his feet beside the bed. He was still breathing hard. His marten was staring up at him, motionless beside Hastings’s shoulder. She was very pale, her eyes dilated. But her hands were fists. He turned from her at the knock on the door.
He shouted out, “Who goes?”
“My lord, we have brought back the bathing tub.”
Severin grunted, went to the door, and opened it. He didn’t allow the servant into the chamber. He lugged the tub into the bedchamber himself, slammed the door, and dumped in the other buckets of water. He looked over at Hastings, who hadn’t moved, then climbed into the tub. His sex was covered with the white cream and with his seed. He hadn’t hurt her. He said over his shoulder as he lathered the lavender soap on the bathing cloth, “Dress yourself and see to my evening meal.”
She said very clearly, “No.”