“Yes, Branford,” I replied. He sighed, and I watched his shoulders lose some of their tension as he slumped slightly forward. Moving slowly, I approached the bed. He did not seem agitated by my presence so close to him, so I sat down beside him and placed my hand on his thigh. “I did not intend to cause you worry.”
He continued to rub his fingers against his temples, and for a long moment, he did not acknowledge me. Truly, I understood his ire. I had been in a dangerous situation though I did not realize it at the time. I wondered if any of them would have been bold enough to harass me if they had known who I was, or rather, to whom I was married. It seemed unlikely, though for men who would do such a thing to that girl—slave or not—the list of things they would not dare do must be short.
Branford covered my hand where it rested on his leg, and for a moment, he just gripped my fingers. He then brought my hand to his mouth and touched his lips to my knuckles. He opened his eyes and turned to face me, his anger gone. Only worry and concern seemed to be left. He reached up to pull me close to him, his mouth covering mine. He kissed me softly at first, but as we touched, I could feel his increasing desire as he pressed against my lips and then ran his tongue against mine.
“I need you,” he mumbled against my lips. I could only nod in response as he fumbled at the ties to my dress, and his tongue invaded my mouth. Branford pushed my dress from my shoulders and then stood to remove it entirely. He pressed against my shoulders, pushing me back against the edge of the bed. He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it to the ground behind him as he stepped closer and nudged my thighs apart with his knee. He gripped my legs, pushing them farther apart and pulling my hips to the edge of the bed at the same time. He slowly lowered himself to the floor next to the bed, and his eyes stared into mine as he took me in his mouth.
I cried out at the contact of his warm lips and tongue against my sensitive flesh. I reached down to the top of his head as my hips rose reflexively toward the pressure from his mouth. I cried out again as his tongue entered me, caressing my body in ways I never could have imagined before we were wed. His mouth and his fingers invaded me until I could stand no more, and his name escaped my lips in a flood of ecstasy.
Without further preamble, he rose and lowered his trousers, exposing his hard male flesh to me. He grasped my hips and pulled them closer to him as he stood between my legs and thrust completely into me with a long, drawn out moan. He held himself there, buried to the hilt, with his eyes closed for a while before he began moving in and out of me, slowly at first, but quickly reaching a faster pace. He ran one of his hands down the outside of my leg, grabbing my ankle and pulling my leg up high until it rested on his shoulder. He gripped my hips again, pulling me sharply against him as he penetrated me deeper than I had ever felt before.
I didn’t understand these reactions from him—his sudden need to possess my body when he had been angered or worried—but I relished the feelings it seemed to bring forth from both my body and my mind. This feeling of being so urgently desired and needed was overwhelming. Was this what it meant to be a wife to such a man? To be here for him to channel his frustrations into desire for me? Would this be his outlet for all those things that plagued his mind? Would this seemingly simple act temper his emotions when his duties as king might otherwise overcome him? Was this at least part of my role in his life?
I hoped that it was.
For as long as his emotions were channeled into his passion for me, he would not be punishing those who were not deserving of his wrath. If I could claim both his temper and his passion, how many of those in the Kingdom of Silverhelm could be spared? I would relinquish my body to him without hesitation if it would give him the peace his mind needed. In all honesty, I would surrender my body to him regardless and for my own selfish reasons as well.
Our moans erupted in tandem as he pushed into me deeply, pulled back, and then thrust forward again and again. His pace continued to increase until I could see the beads of sweat covering his forehead and arms. He leaned over me, entering me faster and harder as I lay back on the bed and let the sensations wash over me. He released my hip and reached between us—a single touch against me that brought forth my release as my back arched against him.
Branford leaned back again, changing the pressure where we were joined. He wrapped one hand around the leg that still rested on his shoulder while the other still gripped my hip, pulling my body toward him with every thrust of his hips. I looked up to his face as he tilted his head to the heavens and cried out as he filled my body completely.
He was spectacular.
The strain in the muscles of his neck, across his broad shoulders, and down to his wrists was evident as he received his pleasure. His strong grip on me finally relaxed as the tension dropped from his shoulders and arms, and his body collapsed on top of mine. He wrapped his arms around me. He sought my skin with his mouth, and he held me close as his breathing and heartbeat slowed.
We did not speak, but I ran my hand through his hair as he lay his cheek upon my breast. He began breathing slowly and deeply, and for a moment, I thought he might have fallen asleep. I was content to let him lie there as long as he wished though he was heavy with all his weight on top of me. But soon, he pushed himself up on his arms, and I could breathe easier.
His gaze met mine, and all the complex emotions that had been displayed in his eyes before—anger, frustration, worry—were gone. I could see only contentment left in his dark green irises. Branford reached up and took my face between his hands, angling my head toward his.
“You are precious to me,” he whispered. His eyes were dark again—intense, but not with anger or need. I wondered what it meant when his eyes turned that shade of green.
“Nothing happened to me,” I said, reassuring him. I touched his cheek with my fingers.
“But it is like you invite trouble into your midst,” Branford said. “Everywhere you go, there is danger lurking, just waiting for me to drop my guard long enough to take advantage of your vulnerability.”
He kissed me again, gently and softly.
“I would be lost without you now,” Branford said. His voice was still very quiet, and his eyes were still dark. He ran the tips of his fingers across my face, right along my hairline, and then down to my jaw. His lips briefly touched my throat as he brushed his fingertips over my breasts. He raised his head and kissed my lips again before pulling back and looking down at me.
“Forgive me, Branford.” I brushed my fingertips across his arm. “Truly, I was never close to them at all. They were all the way on the other side of the barn. I could not even hear what they said. I could only hear their laughter while they were…were…”
“Hush,” he said. He cradled my face as he looked into my eyes. “Do not think of it any longer.”
“Is there nothing that can be done?” I asked. I could feel the hot sting of tears in my eyes for the girl in the stables, the one whose life was tied to that horrific man. Branford closed his eyes, and his forehead touched mine.
“I will try to think of something I can do for her,” Branford said softly. “I cannot make you any promises, but I will see what I can do.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and held myself close to him for a moment. Then I loosened my grip enough to drop back against the pillow and see his face.
“Thank you.”
He smiled his half smile and kissed me on the bridge of my nose.
“Shall we dress and head to the inn?”
And that’s when I remembered where the knights were going.
Chapter 2—Reluctantly Wager