“Bethany,” Royden called out, having seen the woman lurking in the shadows by the passageway that led to the kitchen.
Bethany quickly approached the table.
“See that Mildred has food and drink to take with her,” Royden instructed, keeping a tight rein on his mounting temper.
“You’re most generous, sir, thank you,” Mildred said and took a last swallow of ale before following Bethany out of the hall.
Royden stood and said, “My solar.” He didn’t wait for his wife. He walked off, leaving her to follow.
He entered his solar and went to the hearth pacing in front of it. Though Oria had told him what had happened, hearing it from someone who had witnessed it had enraged him. He fumed with heated anger that was difficult to control. He wanted to pound the man for what he had done to Oria until he couldn’t stand, until he finally laid lifeless in the dirt.
Oria closed the door behind her and went to Royden.
His hand reached out, his fingers softly tracing along her scar. “I’m going to find him an—”
She placed her hand over his. “It’s done, nothing can change that.”
“I can’t let this stand, Oria. The man who did this to you has to pay for it.” He shook his head when she went to speak. “You waste your words. If it takes me years, I will see this done.”
In time perhaps she could change that, fearing that his quest for revenge could bring more harm than good. For now, she would follow her heart.
She raised her lips to his and kissed him. His lips responded to her without hesitation and she was glad she had taken the chance that he wouldn’t deny her. There was a deep hunger in their kiss that hadn’t been there before. A need so strong that it almost frightened.
Her arms quickly wrapped around his neck, clinging tight, fearful their kiss would end far too soon. Her fear vanished when his hand cupped the back of her head, holding it firm. He didn’t want her going anywhere.
His lips were a taste of the old and the new, softness mingling with a powerful strength she hadn’t felt before and it sent a tingle down to her toes and up again, settling between her legs.
His arm coiled around her waist, the leather cuff pressing into her side as he lifted her enough so that her feet didn’t touch the floor and hurried to brace her against a wall.
His palm flattened against the wall while his arm continued to hold her firm. His lips left hers, nipping with his lips and teeth down along her neck. Her pleasure erupted in repeated gasps and moans. He hefted her up a bit higher off the floor and pressed himself against her, settling his hard shaft against the apex of her legs.
She almost screamed aloud when he rubbed against her, a startling sensation shooting through her. Instead she buried her face in the crook of his neck, his name falling from her lips in a rushed whisper, “Royden.”
“Lift your garments above your waist,” he ordered in a harsh whisper, moving just enough away from her for her to do so. “Now push my plaid aside,” he commanded impatiently.
Again she did as he said and when she felt his hard shaft rub against her, she cried out. Over and over and over his shaft teased her and she pressed against him, aching for much more.
“Royden,” she breathed harshly in his ear, clinging to him.
“Look at me, Oria,” he demanded.
She did as he said, lifting her head, their eyes meeting.
“I want to see your face when I bring you to climax the first time,” he said.
His hand dropped down off the wall to cup her bare bottom and shove her hard against him, his manhood grinding against her and shooting a sensation through her that completely engulfed her and had her dropping her head back to hit the wall as she cried out his name.
The exquisite sensation ran through her and she pressed against him, demanding more from his manhood, refusing to let the pleasure fade away and then she felt it. He released his seed against her, thick and warm, and she wished, how she wished, he’d been inside her.
His strong fingers dug into her backside, squeezing tight and something flared in her, though faded much too quickly. She dropped her head on his shoulder and she was glad that he continued to hold her, her legs far too weak to keep her on her feet.
After her breathing calmed, he lowered her to her feet, her garment slipping down and covering her and his plaid doing the same to him.
“Don’t wait too long to welcome me to your bed. I want my seed where it belongs, inside you, growing,” he said and stepped away from her. “I won’t enter you until then—until you welcome me, until you tell me you want me inside you, until you truly want to be my wife.”