Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Can you do it again, my lord?”

“A willing pupil,” he murmured against her parted lips. He wrapped his arms around her back and pressed her tightly against him, deepening the pressure with his lips. He eased instantly when he felt her stiffen, and was rewarded soon with a quiver that ran the length of her slender body. Slowly, he thought to himself, go very slowly. He felt g

ooseflesh rise on her arms and laughed. “How the devil do I get you out of this thing?”

He lifted her above him, only to have her slip in a welter of arms and legs. She landed flat against him, her belly against his swollen manhood. Her eyes flew to his face and she knew a moment of fear when his hands pressed against her buttocks, molding her against his hard flesh, and he moaned roughly deep in his throat.

“The water grows cold,” she said in a thin, high voice.

Graelam closed his eyes tightly for a moment, getting a hold on himself. The last place he wanted to take his virgin bride was in a tub of cool water. And she was frightened, he heard it in her voice. He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose and thrust her away from him. Kassia grabbed the towel and quickly twisted it around her. But she didn’t avert her eyes when he stood in the tub, magnificent in his nakedness.

“I wish that I looked as beautiful as you,” she said wistfully.

He stared at her a moment. No woman had ever before told him he was beautiful. He said lightly as he stepped from the tub, “A scarred, hairy warrior?”

“Aye,” she said, “and endowed with great power and strength.” She handed him a towel. “My father told me once that the more valiant the knight, the more gentle he was in his physical strength. I think he must have been thinking of you, my lord.”

“Your father did not know me, Kassia,” he said sharply. It made him uncomfortable to be cast in a chivalrous hero’s mold. “I am as I am. Do not grant me virtues I own not.”

“No, my lord,” she said docilely, but he saw the impish dimple deepening beside her mouth.

He drew on his bedrobe and strode to the chamber door, yelling for the servants to empty the tub.

“Get into bed,” he called over his shoulder to Kassia. “I do not want you to take cold.”

Because she was nervous, it seemed but a moment of time before they were alone, the door firmly closed, her husband walking toward the bed.

“I play chess quite well,” she blurted out.

He merely grunted, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease her wariness of him. “How does your belly feel?” he asked, drawing off his bedrobe and sitting down beside her.

Kassia’s tongue darted over her lower lip, an unconscious, very sensuous gesture. He gently laid his hand on her belly and probed lightly. “I am truly all right,” she said.

“You are so small,” he said on a frown, his eyes on his splayed hand. He could touch her pelvic bones with the tips of his stretched fingers.

To Kassia’s surprise, she felt a bolt of heat sear through her stomach and her eyes flew to his face. “Oh,” she gasped.

He lifted his hand and she knew a moment of disappointment. He saw it in her eyes, and was pleased. She was innocent of a woman’s pleasure, but not cold-natured.

He stretched out above her and gently stroked his fingers along the column of her throat.

“Should I not douse the candle?”

He shook his head, leaning down to kiss the pulse in her throat. “Nay, I wish to see all of you, wife, even to the soft white flesh between your thighs.” She quivered at his words, and he continued in a soft, tantalizing voice, “I want you to watch me looking at you. I will know your body better than you will know yourself. You have such softness and beauty for me.” He cupped his hand slightly over her woman’s mound and rested it there.

“Open your mouth for me, Kassia.”

He touched her even teeth with his tongue, gliding slowly, then gently plundered the depths of her warm mouth. He clasped her in his arms and pulled her onto her side against the length of him.

“Be at your ease, dearling, I will not hurt you.”

She believed him and melted against him, slipping her arm around his ribs to stroke over his smooth back.

“I . . . I want to feel you against me,” she said when he released her mouth for a moment.

He quickly loosed the sash of her bedrobe and flung it open. He pushed the robe from her shoulders, pausing a moment to gaze down at her breasts. “You are so delicate,” he said, more to himself than to her. “So soft, like the Genoese velvet I bought in Acre.” Slowly, his eyes on her breast, he stroked his fingertips over her smooth flesh, drawing closer and closer to her silken nipple. He felt her tremble slightly and leaned his head down to take the smooth tip into his mouth. He felt her nipple tauten in his mouth, and gently drew on it, savoring the texture as he suckled. He cupped his hand around her breast and pushed it upward to better possess her. He felt her arch her back and slipped one arm beneath her. He sought out her mouth again. To his delight, he felt her hand glide down over his hip, gently kneading his muscles, exploring his body as he was hers. As her searching fingers neared his groin, he felt himself stiffen in a nearly painful need.

“Touch me, Kassia,” he groaned softly.