“You are bold, my lady,” Dirick said, flashing a tense grin at her. He shifted out of her greedy reach with a quick, precise movement. “And I find myself at an unfair advantage—for I am at your mercy, and you are still armored by some manner of cloth. Allow me to rid you of your protection. ”
With a quick movement, he yanked the fragile cloth, rending it down the center of her body, leaving its ivory curves bare to his gaze. Maris gasped in surprise and with a faint twinge of annoyance. “Dirick,” she admonished laughingly, “you’ve just ruined the dearest piece of cloth I’ve ever purchased. ”
“I don’t care,” he murmured, filling his hands with her breasts. “I shall buy you another to replace it. Two if I must. ”
Then his hand smoothed over her belly, down to that warm, moist place where all of her senses seemed to have collected. She throbbed and moistened at his touch as he fingered the swollen little knob there, teasing and massaging it gently. Maris felt the most inexplicable sensation, rising and swelling inside her, blossoming into something hot and needy and all the world fell away but for the sensation of his fingers, stroking and sliding in her wetness.
“Beloved, I would not hurt you, but I cannot prevent it…and I must have you…now. ”
“Yes,” she whispered, hardly aware of what she was saying. With a smooth motion, Dirick moved between her legs, anchoring up on one elbow while he guided himself to her opening. And then, suddenly, she felt him fill her, full, oh…full…and then a sharp pain surprised her and she gasped softly
“Beloved,” he whispered, holding himself poised and still over her, filling her so deeply. “Forgive me. ” His breathing was the only sound in the chamber, and she could feel him waiting, uncertain and desperate.
The pain had ebbed and all at once, Maris was aware—very aware—of being filled, of the anticipation, the need, beginning once again. She gave a little twitch, a little shift, and with the gust of released breath, Dirick began to move inside her.
Any lingering discomfort melted away as he shifted, sliding in and out in a long, slow rhythm that made her tighten and reach, lifting and gathering until something exploded inside her. A storm of shivers and fluttering filled her, blossoming from her middle to the end of every limb and digit in a sharp snap of heat.
Maris might have gasped, she might even have dug her nails into her husband’s skin, but she wasn’t certain, for he was moving faster now, faster and with more urgency. His muscles bunched beneath her fingers, his skin was hot and damp against hers.
She knew, hazily, that he reached his fulfillment when he threw his head back and slammed inside her with a low groan. He froze like a beautiful god above her in an instant of vulnerability and ecstasy.
Then he smiled and opened his eyes to look down at her. “Beloved,” he murmured, rolling to the side, gathering her damp body close. “How blessed I am. ”
And then his eyes slid closed and he settled against her.
When Dirick awoke much later that night…or mayhap ’twas near the morning…the first thing he saw was the unruly mass of thick, lemony smelling hair that belonged to his wife.
Joy welled inside him and he smoothed a wrist thick wave away from her face, baring the fair skin and rosy lips of Maris. His wife.
She stirred and sleepily rolled over toward him. Her eyes fluttered, then opened wide as if surprised to see him. Then, they shuttered and a smile curved her mouth before she opened them again, now fully awake.
“Good morrow, Dirick,” she told him, reaching to touch his face.
“Good morrow, beloved. ” His voice was raspy with desire and sleep. “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful,” she told him, stretching like a cat. “And ’tis all you to blame. ”
He grinned down at her. “That is one blame I shall not shirk, my lady. ” Squinting at the sunlight filtering through a light tapestry, he said, “’Tis morn. They’ll arrive anon to check that the sheets are blooded. ”
“Aye. ” Maris eagerly drew the blankets away from their naked bodies to show the white sheet and its dark red drops of blood.
Dirick rose from the bed to use the chamberpot, and Maris followed. They embraced in passing, one long, lean, haired body pressing to a smaller, softer, rounder one.
Though he felt himself harden in response to her proximity, Dirick pulled reluctantly away. Their chamber would soon be invaded by a delegate to ascertain whether the marriage had indeed been consummated, and that the lady had indeed been a virgin…and he did not relish the thought of being interrupted thus.
“W
e will leave London today,” he told her as he settled back on the bed. He felt her gaze caress his nakedness and felt a rush of delight and victory at the realization that she was well and truly his. “Michael d’Arcy has not been found, and you will not be truly safe until he is. ”
Maris wrapped a light cloth around her shoulders and curled on the edge of the bed. “He is my father,” she told him unsteadily.
Dirick pulled her to rest her head on his chest. “I learned that only yesterday. I’m sorry that I did not know sooner. ”
“He killed my father—Merle. ”
“I know that, or suspected that, as well. He is the man who killed my father—the one that I spoke of to you. ” Dirick tightened his lips. “I will not rest until he is found. ”
Maris pulled away, sitting up to look down at him. “You will have a care, Dirick. You will not put yourself in danger. Michael has killed so many—”