One Knight's Bargain (4 page)

Now he had her, and he didn’t know what to do with
her.

She was a lady, not a whore, yet he had treated her as
such just now. And she had responded, although she had pushed him away
eventually. He needed to learn to soften his approach when he was near her, let
her see she did not need to fear him.

As he pulled his clean clothing over his body, she
remained in the waters, apparently not wanting to show her nudity to him. She
would need to get over that, and quickly. The priest would probably arrive
within a day or two, and she would be his wife. He would keep her nude in his
bed for as long as possible. That would cure her of the malady.

He thrust a hand down to her, to pull her from the
depths. She spied the hand and then glared at him without taking it.

“Do not make me—”
drag
you out of there kicking and screaming
. He had just told himself to soften,
and he followed it with a threat. “I want to help you.”

The change in tone seemed to have an effect on her.
She looked up at him with less vitriol in her gaze. “I am nude. You are not yet
my husband.”

“I will be soon enough.”

Sybille looked at his hand once more and let out a
long sigh. She grasped his hand, and he pulled her easily from the depths. He
placed her before him, her long hair covering her breast and flowing to her
knees. The rosy tips of her nipples peeked out, the rounded swell of her tummy
and her thick thatch of curls below it on display between the long curtains of
hair. Her hips were shapely, meant to bear children and ride husbands.

His cock swelled infinitely harder. How easy it would
be to push her to the craggy floor and have his way with her. But that wasn’t
the way to woo his lady.

Eustache spied a clean scrap of fabric on a stool
beside the water and lifted it to her, slowly drying her
goosepimpled
flesh. She stood like a statue, barely breathing, her gaze glued to his moving
hands. He was careful to be gentle with her, like he would caress a skittish
horse. When he dropped to his knees before her to dry her long legs, he thought
he heard a quiet sob come from her. His
bollucks
tightened to his body, the need to have her after three years of dreams and
fantasies making him near desperation.

As his fingers began to shake, he knew he needed to
stop before he pushed himself over the edge. He was acting like a young lad,
ready to pop at the mere touch of her virginal skin. Eustache rose to his full
height, towering over her. Before he handed her shift back to her, he dried her
hair a bit, loving the soft feel of it in his fingers. As he imagined it
curtained around him as she rode him, he let go.

“My men have gone out hunting and should be bringing
back some game soon. Will your elderly cook be able to handle the kitchens on
her own?”

“I will help her.”

He nodded. “I have a small amount of gold left. We
will go to
Paris
soon to buy a small amount of provisions. Perhaps we can find help for the
kitchens while there.”

“The fields have lain fallow for some time. We have
little in the larders to accompany the meat you provide, at least not for the
size of your group.”

“My men offer the protection your father could not. We
should not have no problem in getting men to return to the fields soon enough.”

“With your reputation?”
Her eyes grew wide as soon as the words were out.

“My reputation?
And what is that, my lady?”

“You are known to be harsh, violent.”

He did have a reputation, one that would keep them
safer from attack. “The opportunity to work the land and eat will make them
overlook my reputation, believe me.”

He would work on changing her mind. No one else’s but
hers.

She would grow to love him. He just had to make her
see.

****

Two days later, Sybille was doing everything she could
to avoid Eustache. Whenever he was near, she could feel the heat of his stare
and did not like what it caused in her body. The nights were difficult, spent
dreaming of his fingers caressing her nude body, of his thick cock jutting out
before him, ready to spear within her
quim
, as he called it.

She was out in her meager garden, trying to clear the
weeds, which had grown between her rows of herbs and vegetables. The afternoon
sun felt warm on her body. Spring had finally arrived, and the chill was
leaving the air. As she lost herself in her work, she heard the gates opening.
Rising at the sound, she moved through the lower bailey to see what was
occurring. A friar rode in on his small horse, stopping amid the bailey,
surrounded by Eustache’s men. Fear spiked in her chest as she realized her
freedom, if she could even call it
that,
was over. She
would be Eustache’s to do with as he wished.

Part of her could not wait to see what he wished, and
that made her feel ill.

Eustache came out of the hall and met the friar with a
hearty handshake before looking around the bailey, his gaze immediately finding
her. He had shaved, possibly for the ceremony, and his bare face was
devastatingly handsome. Shock filled her at the realization, as well as a
swelling between her legs. His stare pinned her into place.

“I see no reason to wait, Sybille. Come, let’s make
you my wife.”

Her feet felt rooted to the ground. She looked down at
her gown, dirtied from digging in the garden, her fingers black from the inky
soil. “I wish to bathe first.”

He eyed her gown and hands and nodded his head. She
dropped her small trowel into her garden and marched to her room to gather her
only other dress, which had been her mother’s, before going to the underground
spring to wash.
Magda
came down to help her dress,
braiding her hair with rheumy fingers. Nicolas came down later, with a handful
of flowers he had gathered from the fields outside the gates. She leaned down
to kiss his forehead, this sweet boy who was almost more her son than brother.

Less than an hour later, she stood in the great hall,
surrounded by her brothers,
Magda
, and Eustache’s men
and was wed to the giant knight. She felt as if she was not even there, but a
spectator on the outer fringes watching the events unfold. Eustache was silent
beside her, only speaking when he was instructed to by the small friar.

After the ceremony, the friar brought out a barrel of
wine he had brought from the monastery, and they feasted on roasted venison and
rabbit, along with small flatbreads
Magda
had been
able to whip up with the last of their grains. It was better than she and the
boys had eaten in months and was indeed a grand enough feast for her.

Each of her brothers came to her one at a time to hug
and congratulate her, each then getting a swift kick to the bottom from
Eustache for their not acting manly enough. She scowled at her new husband.
“They are
children
.”

“Who need to be made into
men.
”
He looked at her with dismay.

“What, so they can be like you?”

“Exactly like me.” His voice dropped as he leaned in
closer to her. “You want me, so I must not be
too
bad.”

A blush burned across her cheeks, but he was
absolutely correct. She did want him, damn her. Her body trembled even now in
anticipation of their wedding night, knowing he would drag her to his chambers
at any point. Her nipples were tight under the rough chemise she wore, the
fabric scratching at the sensitive tips. She wanted the caress to be his
fingers, not linen.

Eustache stood and raised his wooden cup to those
amassed there. “This day we embark on a new life within these walls, seeking
our fortunes.”

How odd a toast.
She brought the edge of her cup to her lips and swallowed a hefty
gulp, as did those around her. She felt the burn of his stare moments later and
turned to him, lifting her chin to see his face at his great height. He reached
a palm to her, and she eyed it with a mixture of fear and longing.

“Tonight, I make you mine.”

Mine.
That word made her shiver. She had been her father’s chattel, and
now she was her husband’s. She was his to do with as he wished, now forever
tied before God. Without more thought, she grasped his hand and allowed him to
lift her to her feet. The crowd around them cheered as she followed him up the
stairs to his chamber, which had been her parents’. She was now the lady of the
manor, and she suddenly realized that afforded her some small amount of power
here, if she was courageous enough to reach for it.

Eustache could be a husband in truth if she was
courageous enough to stand up to him and not cower at his feet. The night would
be a way to prove to him she was no shy virgin. She was a shy virgin, but she
needed to not allow him to shock her. She needed to be open to the desires
swirling in her breast.

Eustache opened the door to the chamber then followed
her inside, crowding the large room with his gigantic frame. The sun was
setting, and the room was filled with deep shadows and his unnerving presence.
He moved to the fireplace and started a small flame, the light reaching out and
dancing along the walls, making the room warmer on more than one account.
Remaining on his knee, he reached out a hand to her. Without consideration, she
moved immediately, taking his hand and standing before him.

When he grasped her ankles below her old gown, she
trembled with desire.

“Do you shake in fear, my lady?”

“No. I do not.”

He looked up to her, the fire casting light across his
shorn face. “I would never harm you. Not intentionally.”

She was quieted by the comment, shocked at his soft
admission. His hands began to move up her legs, and the sensation made her
knees wobbly. Eustache drew her into his lap and gathered a handful of her hair
in his hand, bringing her mouth to his. He kissed her feverously, and she returned
his ardor with as much of her own.

He moved his hands to the ties at the back of her
dress, and he began to pull at them, loosening the constricting fabric away.
She drew back when he had untied it enough and pulled herself from the bodice.
Eustache pulled the skirt down her legs, leaving her only in her thin shift.
They had not had the wealth for more
underthings
, so
she was glad for what little she did have, but tonight, in his arms, she felt
lacking. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks.

“Do not be shamed in your nudity. Your body is
lovely.”

She sighed, choosing not to correct his presumption.
He slowly removed her shift, and he sat back to look at her body, his eyes
roaming over her fire–lit skin. He moved a hand to rest on her stomach, and he
rubbed small circles over her, igniting a fire in her core.

His hand began to travel higher, and he languidly
moved to her breast, weighing one in his hand before grasping the other in a
firm squeeze. His head lowered, and he captured one ruddy point in his mouth, drawing
on it deeply, enough for her to feel the pull down to her channel. As he
suckled her, his hand roamed over her skin and down to her
quim
.
He pressed one finger along the fleshy lips that covered her and spread her
open for his inspection.

He released her breast with a pop and smiled at her.
“How wet you are.”

Eustache returned to her breast, and she moaned as he
tugged even harder on her tip with his fiery mouth. His hand began to slide
along her slit as he spread her juices around, before stopping at the thick
button at the top. He pressed a finger to the nub and pressed tight circles to
the flesh, making her cry out with need.

He stopped his motions and lifted her in his arms,
depositing her on the top of the bed. As she pulled back the covers, he removed
his
surcoat
and tunic, as well as his hose and boots,
dropping them all on the stone floor at his feet. Leaning in, he reached
between her thighs and spread them wide so he could look upon her flesh. She
fought the need to cover herself, instead watching his reaction to her body,
enjoying his bald pleasure.

Soon, he lowered between her legs, but dropped his
head to her
quim
. She let out a gasp as he trailed
his tongue along her slit and attempted to close her legs. He only growled at
her and pressed her knees even wider, his mouth locking on the nub of flesh he
had touched earlier. Her hips came off the bed as he suckled it hard. The
sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and she never wanted
him to stop.
Ever.

When he added his fingers to her
quim
,
she was sure she would pass out from the sheer pleasure. Pressure started to
build, almost to the level of discomfort at his fingers, but he began to lap
more at her nub, and she forgot the pressure. His tongue lashed at the
sensitive spot, making her writhe below him. She cried into the pillow beside
her, unaware at the level of ecstasy he could bring her to.

Something built low in her belly, the need to reach
higher, go faster. He was pushing her toward whatever it was, and she felt overwhelmed
with the pace. Yet he pushed faster, harder, making her face the sensuality
building within her. His teeth grazed her nub, and she arched her back,
pressing her
quim
closer to his eager lips. He
chuckled against her flesh, the vibrations moving through her battered sex.
Once he gently bit the tender skin, she screamed with the intensity of an
incredible wave of pleasure as it coursed through her body.