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After a few savage thrusts, the point had been made. She whimpered, and her knees began to buckle beneath her. Extracting himself, he had collected her in his arms and carried her to the bed.
“Did I scare you?” he’d asked.
“No, Gervais.” That she used his name reassured him.
The gamble had paid off. He had shown her how unpredictable he could be and she had not asked him to stop. Her reaction to him pouncing on her when she came into the room had revealed she was of a stout heart and eager to please him, regardless of the suddenness. On the bed, she had begged him to continue and he obliged her, but with gentler thrusts, commanding the beast within him to hold back. He controlled those urges. She had passed the test without damaging their relationship.
He had tumbled with her on the bed into the early hours, then when fatigue swept over both of them, he had sent her to her chamber, where the sleepy maid could bathe and feed her.
The door had closed behind her with a soft click.
Three nights of fucking and he was doomed.
Gervais slept and the dreams were vivid. There was nothing he could do to stop them. He cried out, waking himself, and threw off the covers in frustration. His cock was huge, throbbing, and the Zalim wanted to use it. He locked his door and pushed the key underneath it. Lionel would know to release him in the morning.
For now she was safe. He had it contained. But what if he couldn’t keep himself in check? Perhaps he’d made a mistake. He had thought he wasn’t like the other men, those who failed the trials, now he doubted his arrogance.
He should have stayed with the Order. Hunting animals was never a good substitute.
Chapter Fifteen
Matilda watched Gervais hunt with Artemis, which she thought was a gyrfalcon—she wasn’t an expert on falconry. A beautiful creature with tawny feathers and wicked talons. He handled her with practised ease, sending her soaring into the skies before luring her back with a piece of meat swung on a string. His gloved hand, held aloft, guided the bird, while the other hand managed the reins of his horse. Matilda remained under the canopy erected to protect her from the sun’s heat. Gervais seemed impervious, but then he had lived in the dust of the African desert, as well as the cold tundra of the eastern lands.
The spectacle of bird and master was a lesson in itself. He spoke softly to the gyrfalcon, stroked her plumage, then when she cruised on the hidden breeze, he called to her by name, commanding the hawk to return. She always did.
Matilda was like that captive bird—beholden to her betrothed lord, held in his thrall by his whim and passions, except she wore no jesses or hood, and was free to leave whenever she wished. He had invited her to join him hawking, which pleased her, since most mornings he hunted alone in the forest. The bird flew on the open meadow by the river and was trained to spot rabbits. Once the little creatures were spooked, the arrows of the Lionel’s bow gave chase and brought them down. Gervais took no part in killing them, preferring to concentrate on his precious hawk.
For three weeks, she had accepted she was his, and each night he had shown her his physical desires were strong and indefatigable. The one occasion when he had demonstrated the full extent of his willpower, she had torn her nails through the threads of the tapestry on the wall, and submitted, briefly with no resistance. It should have shamed her, but it had forced her to admit to herself that her needs were equal to his. If only her heart was as confident.
She wrote to Geoffrey, beseeching him to wait for her. Gervais made no attempt to intercept the letters or forbid her to write. When the replies arrived, Geoffrey filled his letters with arcane poetry and florid descriptions of his affection for her. His leg healed slowly.
The truth she hid from both men. She was split in two. Her body was Gervais’s while her heart was twisted by Geoffrey’s sweet charms. Her boldness in writing to Geoffrey, far from riling Lord Baliol, seemed to amuse him, and he teased her, asking if she wanted Geoffrey to know what they had done in bed that night, or if she was pretending to be pure and unsullied. Blushing, she told Gervais her feelings for Geoffrey were genuine. Her body, though, was yearning for Gervais and it refused to switch its allegiance.
What happened if her need for Gervais outshone her affection for
Geoffrey? She had been promised the final choice was hers to make, but somehow she still felt that it wasn’t truly her own decision, that by the time she had spent three months with Gervais, her body would have won, and would never allow her to leave his side. Perhaps that was why Gervais was unperturbed.
Handing the gyrfalcon to his groom, he dismounted and joined her under the canopy for refreshments.
“Magnificent creature, isn’t she?” he said.
“Yes, my lord. Could I learn to fly her?”
Gervais lowered his goblet. “Not Artemis. No one flies her but me. However, I could acquire a smaller hawk for you.”
“Oh, please.” She sipped on her wine. “There is something magical about the way she flies so high yet comes to rest upon your arm.”
He laughed. “It’s the meat. I only fly her when she’s hungry.”
“And if she wasn’t hungry, would she fly away?”
Gervais turned to Matilda. “The art of falconry is to ensure the bird never leaves your side. The hood, the jesses, all remind the hawk that she is both captive and safe. When she flies off, she quickly realises there is no place to go that will offer her protection, food, and shelter, that if she chooses to live in the wild, she must learn to survive all of nature’s hardships. The cruel winters. The lack of prey. The competition from other predators. The best place for Artemis is by my side.”
Matilda swallowed the lump in her throat. “Is that how you wish to keep me, sir?”
His eyes sparkled. “Always.”
“How will you stop me flying away?” Her stomach contorted itself into knots. Why was she revealing herself to him so openly? The danger she placed herself in was entirely down to her lust. Geoffrey was pushed to the farthest points of her mind, barricaded behind walls, and all she could think about was Gervais’s metaphorical message to her womanly soul. If he conquered that place, surely he would win her heart, too.
