Their Lady Gloriana Read online

  Passion. Rowan believed Thomas to be a very passionate man. She didn’t actually fear him touching her or bedding her, and she didn’t really fear that he would hurt her. She’d seen the way his eyes had warmed when he looked at her. She’d felt the tenderness, the heat in his kiss. She’d felt the solid ridge of his rod as it rubbed against her. She wouldn’t disappoint him in their bedchamber again. She would not foolishly faint again.

  Rowan spun around, waving his sword, muscles rippling. Warmth curled within her. Desire. For Rowan? Yes, she was definitely fascinated by the man in many ways. She’d seen the secrets hidden in his eyes, the hurt buried there. It called to her, a need to help him make peace with whatever troubled him. And she enjoyed looking at his fine warrior’s body. But she was married to Thomas, and she would never dishonor him by encouraging Rowan in any manner. Besides, Rowan was Thomas’s lover. She didn’t want to intrude on that relationship. This was all so very confusing: her strange wariness and desire for both Thomas and Rowan, the intimacy the two men shared, her curiosity about it.

  Moving out of the shadows, she felt a fluttering in her stomach. Thomas would bed her this day. And this day she would not embarrass herself by fainting before he could do it!

  ***

  The great hall was packed with soldiers, servants and a number of the wives and children of his men. There was hardly an available space on the long benches by the trestle tables. Laughter echoed around the large room as the men taunted and teased one another after enduring a hard day of training. Mugs of ale thudded on the tables as they were set down. Higher pitched youthful voices competed for the attention of their parents. Weary mothers tried to deal with tired children. All of it was more than Thomas could stand another minute longer. He wanted to be alone with his bride, ached to take her to his bed.

  He slid yet another glance in her direction. Gloriana looked especially pretty tonight. She wore a green gown that matched her eyes, a gown with a low bodice, low enough that her breasts were barely contained. He longed to free them, to cup them, to taste them. Once again he inhaled her scent, something soft, something flowery. She’d taken a bath earlier and must have used a special soap. He knew little about flowers, so he didn’t know what it was, but whatever the floral smell was, it was driving him crazy.

  Finally he could take no more of this torturous waiting. He hadn’t eaten more than a couple of bites of the roasted swan the cook had prepared specially for them tonight. He’d not been able to even touch the fresh bread or the sweet date pie either, though they smelled good. He noted that Gloriana, too, had hardly nibbled at anything in her trencher.

  He put his hand on hers where it rested on the table. So small, so soft.

  She jerked in surprise and looked warily at him. He saw the way her breasts rose and fell in quick little breaths. Panic? Fear? Both ideas sickened him. But then her gaze warmed and she blushed prettily.

  Relief let him breathe easier. “I would ask that you go upstairs with me now, my lady.” Those green eyes widened and he heard the catch in her breath, but she didn’t pull away from him or refuse.

  As they rose from their chairs at the table on the raised dais a number of the nearby soldiers glanced in their direction. Including Gerald, who narrowed his eyes. Thomas understood the protective man’s silent warning to be careful with his lady. He would be irritated should any other man look at him in such a manner, but he truly didn’t mind that this older man watched after her like a worried father. He’d heard the man had intervened as often as he could between Gloriana and Geoffrey, at the risk of keeping his position and probably even his life. He respected the knight greatly for that.

  He shifted his glance to his right, where Rowan sat next to him. They hadn’t spoken since their awkward morning conversation, and he worried a bit about his friend’s odd quietness this night. Rowan still didn’t speak and Thomas couldn’t decipher the odd expression he wore. Envy? Jealousy? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t see the pinched lines on Rowan’s forehead which showed when he was angry. For that, Thomas was grateful. Before he turned away, though, he said in concern, “I’ll talk with you on the morrow.”

  Rowan gave a slight nod and focused on the food in front of him. “Aye. We need to discuss plans for dealing with Abernon.”

  Abernon. His son. Just the thought of some kind of upcoming battle made Thomas sick. He didn’t want to cause problems for his sister, but he wanted his son…needed his son.

  Gloriana surprised him yet again by gently touching his arm and making him face her. Her eyes mirrored determination, even a tinge of anger. “You will get your son, my lord. I truly believe that.” Her fierce support touched places within him that had been long cold. Only Rowan had stood solidly by him for this last half year. Before that

  Thomas had had many allies and many men willing to fight with him, but none he could call a real friend. He wasn’t as religious as some of his men, yet he felt blessed by coming back physically whole from the Crusade, by having Rowan as a devoted first knight and lover, and now at having married a woman who intrigued him as much as she attracted him.

  It was the attraction tightening within him that had him putting her hand in the crook of his arm and leading her out of the great hall. As she took the stairs in front of him, his body thrummed with desire. He prayed he could find the inner strength to be patient, to hold back an animalistic need to claim her. He curled his hands into fists when the urge to reach for her nearly overpowered him. Lust was not a new feeling for him, but this time was different. After years of bedding more women than he could even remember, he was taking a wife to his bed. He didn’t think he could survive losing another wife. Nay, he could not give her the babe she longed to have. There were many ways to prevent his wife from becoming pregnant, for tonight he would put his faith in the special tea mixed with Queen Anne’s lace he’d already had a maid prepare and take to their chamber.

  They had reached the second floor with the bedchambers and solar when Gloriana stopped and timidly met his gaze. He watched her swallow hard, watched her raise her small chin and straighten her slender shoulders. He waited for her to speak, though he was anxious to go to their chamber.

  “I will not faint on you this time, my lord. You need not fear that.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I will let you have your way with me without protest.” Let him have his way? “This is not only about my wants and needs, Gloriana. It is about what we both desire, about pleasuring both of us.”

  He found it charming the way her cheeks grew pink at the idea of pleasuring one another. He couldn’t wait another second to touch her in some way. He cupped her face and slowly lowered his mouth to hers. She held her breath, tensed, but met his lips tentatively at first. And then she shivered and inched closer to him. She gave a soft moan as he lightly trailed his tongue along the seam of her lips.

  His cock had hardened painfully, and it pressed between them, pressed against her. She quietly sighed but didn’t shift away. He shuddered and kissed her harder, demanding a response from her. To his delight, she put her delicate hands on the sides of his face and kissed him back.

  When he could find the strength to pull away, he did. His breaths came hard and his heart pounded. He held her desire-heavy gaze and said huskily, “I promise to be gentle, my wife.”

  Her chin lifted again and she boldly countered, “I would like to experience some of this passion Rowan claims you have.” With that said, she turned to march into their bedchamber.

  Thomas stood there stunned. Passion? Rowan told her he had ‘passion’? When? When would his friend have told her such a thing? Something nagged at him, but…

  She stepped back into the doorway, interrupting his musing. An irritated look pinched her face. “Husband? What keeps you there?”

  He shook off his shock and grinned. “Nothing.”

  “You really need to work on that smile, Thomas. Tis rather odd; not exactly scary, but odd.” Then she scurried farther into the chamber.

  Thom
as was still grinning when he closed and locked the door behind him. She had already moved next to the bed and lit one of the candles on a bedside table. The mug of tea sat beside the candle. Good. Relief filled him.

  “I have had little to smile about in a very long time. I will work on it.”

  Although she had come up here with no resistance, even been brazen but a moment ago, the color had left her face. She’d begun trembling. He went to her and pulled her into a hug they both needed. She fit him perfectly. He liked that her head rested just below his chin, liked the way her plump breasts pressed against him. He especially liked the way her arms moved around him and held him in trust and not fear.

  “I need help getting out of this gown,” she said nervously. “I can call a maid.”

  “Nay, my lady, I will gladly act your maid this night.” He released her and turned her around so he could untie the lacing on the back of her gown. It was difficult work with his big fingers, but he’d undressed many other women over the years. This was his wife, though. It was very different this time.

  He’d begun to lose patience with the tedious task when finally the gown started to slide off her shoulders. Creamy skin took his breath away. She didn’t wear an undergarment, which surprised him, which made him all the more ready to get the gown completely off her. He pulled it down slowly, almost drooling as he revealed more and more of her soft, perfect skin. She stood still, letting him undress her, trusting him.

  God in heaven, how could she trust him after what she’d been through with Geoffrey? It humbled him.

  When she stood naked in front of him with her gown pooled at her feet, he simply stared at her. She was beautiful. Tinier than other women he’d been with. He felt overly big and prayed he wouldn’t crush her when he stretched over her.

  She faced him, her cheeks pink in embarrassment. She had trouble meeting his eyes. “Do I disgust you, my lord? Am I too…”

  “Disgust me? Good God, no!”

  She stepped out of the gown at her small feet, toed off the slippers and pushed them away. “Geoffrey found me too small for his taste. He could hardly stand to be with me.” Her voice was a miserable whisper.

  “The man was not only a cruel bastard, but a fool.” Thomas looked down at her and felt nervous. He’d never felt anxious with other women. Again, she was his wife. “Mayhap it is I who will displease you. I am too big, too—“

  She reached up to put a finger to his mouth, stopping his worried admission. “Nay, my lord, you do not displease me. At least not because you are far bigger than me. My concern lies more with whether or not your…” She looked down and her face reddened. “With whether your rod will fit inside me. I have seen it and twas rather large. Impressively large.”

  His shaft swelled at the compliment, swelled and ached. He tugged his tunic off. “My rod will fit just fine. I have great faith in that.”

  Her eyes had darkened as she stared at his chest. “You’ve many scars, too many. You’ve suffered great pain.”

  “None more than I suffer at this moment.”

  He shoved off his braies and freed his cock, which he was sure had never been as hard or as long as it was now. She gaped at the size of it, but couldn’t take her gaze away. That pleased him even more. He took his length in one hand, stroked it once, and caught the heat in her eyes. “I cannot wait much longer to slide inside you, wife.” “Can…can I touch it?” She reached for him, but hesitated.

  “Aye,” he choked out the word. He hoped he wouldn’t disgrace himself at the touch of her hand. When she still hesitated, he took her hand and wrapped it around him. Cautiously at first, she moved her hand up and down his shaft. She watched in clear amazement as it grew even bigger within her hold. She grew bolder, stroking with more fervor, smiling up at him. “Your rod, it doesn’t shrink at my touch. It grows. Tis magic, my lord.”

  “Just the magic of your touch, wife,” he groaned, struggling to keep his thoughts sane, to not toss her onto the bed and drive deep. Her comment found its way into his mind, puzzled him. Stewart’s cock had withered at her touch? What had been wrong with the man? His rod felt as if it would explode from how big it had grown. Fearing that he would release prematurely, he gently pulled her hand away.

  “Before you unman me, I would have you lie on the bed. Let me prepare you, bring you pleasure before I drive into your sweet body.”

  The disappointment he first saw in her face as he removed her hand from his cock transformed into anticipation. “Prepare me? Bring me pleasure?” she questioned in wonder. In that moment, he knew her first husband had taken no time to prepare her before he rammed into her depths. He’d never brought her pleasure. The bastard.

  “Trust me, Gloriana.” He didn’t want to explain; he wanted to show her what he’d meant.

  “I do.” Her whispered response touched him deeply.

  As she started to move toward the bed, his gaze darted to the mug of tea. Guilt fluttered within him, yet he almost desperately went to pick up the mug and handed it to her. He could not meet her eyes as he said, “I had the maid prepare you a special tea, something to quench your thirst before I have my way with you.”

  Her eyebrows pinched in curiosity, but she drained the mug. “Twas different, my lord, but good. I thank you for your consideration.”

  She sat on the bed and he finally realized her hair was still wrapped in complicated braids about her head. His focus had been only on the exquisite body that so tempted him. Gruffly he said, “I would have you take your hair down. I wish to see it flowing around you.”

  Within seconds she’d released the waist-length mass of blonde hair and sat looking at him. “In all fairness, husband, I would ask that you remove the leather tying your hair back as well.”

  He did so and was pleased to see her eyes warm as she watched his hair fall around his shoulders. No other woman had ever seemed to care if his hair was tied back or loose. “Happy now, Glori?”

  She blinked at him at the shortened name and then nodded with a slight smile. Then without being instructed to do so, she scooted backward on the bed, with the fur cover and linen already pulled down to the end. She stopped to pull her long hair to one side before lying back and putting her head on the pillows. Her plump breasts rose and fell with her anxious breaths as she waited for him.

  “You wish me to spread my legs wide? Or to raise them at the knees? Tell me what you desire, my lord, and I will obey.” Tentatively, she shifted her slender legs apart. His body forgot all about breathing. She was such an innocent in so many ways. She’d been brutalized in her marital bed; he knew this without her admitting as much. Yet she now trusted him, a stranger. It made him dig deep for patience. He could not hurt her.

  Chapter Five

  Gloriana watched her new husband as he stood there tall, so big, and so sinfully handsome. She wondered why she didn’t feel the fear she’d always experienced before Geoffrey had mounted her. Their mating had never been pleasant. He’d never talked about preparing her body, whatever that was. He’d never cared about anything but finding his own satisfaction. And he’d rarely found it, for which she’d paid dearly. She trembled at the memory of the last beating he’d given her for failing him. The physical wounds had healed; the emotional ones would probably always be with her. It was difficult to trust another man and yet she did.

  “Do not think of Stewart. Never again,” Thomas said gruffly, anger and gentleness an odd mix in his tone. “I will never hurt you. Never.”

  She drew in a breath and studied him for a second. His jaw had tightened and a vein pulsed in his neck. This man was so much harder, so much more powerful than Geoffrey had been. But instinctively she knew this man never misused his strength, never abused the power he held over anyone. Unless they were an enemy, of course. An enemy would see a side of him she hoped never to witness. Yet still she did not fear him. Even in this short a time she had seen the respect for him in his men’s expressions, even seen the beginnings of it in Middlemound’s men.

 
Deciding to have faith in the man looking down at her with such grim determination, she held out her arms. “Come make me your wife, my lord. Geoffrey will not come between us any longer.” It was a promise she hoped to keep.

  Relief settled over Thomas’s face and he gave a curt nod. The feather mattress dipped as he knelt on it and crawled toward her, moving slowly between her legs. His eyes darkened, heated, held such clear desire. It was truly wondrous to see such longing for her. Her own body came alive. Her woman’s place quivered and the small bud between her legs throbbed. Her breasts felt fuller, ached. Want. She wanted this man. Never had she felt this way. Well, maybe a little of such feelings when she gazed upon Rowan. But her desire for Thomas was far stronger.

  “I must touch your breasts.” His voice had lowered an octave. His gaze melded to her chest. “I must taste those hard nubs calling to me.”

  Yes, she wanted that, too. Her pulse raced. She inhaled the scent of him, one of musk with a faint hint of sweat. The day was hot and he’d been busy most of it. She didn’t mind at all. In a second of daring, she cupped her breasts as if offering them to him.

  He drew in a breath and his eyes widened in delight. He moved until he knelt above her. So big, so brawny. His shoulders seemed twice as wide as hers. The mass of his body was so much bigger than hers. But his size didn’t intimidate her. She froze, not in fear but in wonder. His long, solid rod lay on her stomach, rubbed just over her mound and sent tingles clear down to her toes. His intense focus remained on her breasts, which she still held, they seemed to have swollen even more.

  With a growl low in his throat, he reached toward her and took each plump breast from her hands into his. She watched him, held her breath, tensed for the kind of pain she’d always experienced before. She waited for him to harshly squeeze the mounds, waited for him to bend down and bite the nipples, and waited for him to gloat at the control he had over her.