AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I do?”
“Aye,” he mocked. “Inside and out.” And, sliding his hands beneath her, he raised his body over hers, lifted her, and with a thrust of his hips, entered into her slippery depths.
Briar’s eyes grew wider as she stared up at him.
Ivo felt the little movements inside her, the adjustments to his size, the grasp of her body about his. She was tight, though no virgin. But neither was she much used—Ivo knew the signs. In truth he cared not what she was, only that at this moment she was his. Ivo threw his head back with a groan of ecstasy, thrusting himself into her a little more, and a little further, unashamedly enjoying her. He withdrew, and thrust again, deep this time, and she quivered from her head to her toes.
“Oh, demoiselle,” he whispered hoarsely, gazing down at her with blurred black eyes, his hair a dark aureole in the candlelight. “Tell me I am not dreaming.”
And just like that, a wild storm of pleasure swept through her. Briar cried out and arched against him. He held her firm, allowing her to ride the tempest, content to let her have her moment while he kept his own pleasure in check. When she was still again, gasping, a sheen of perspiration covering her body, her hair sticky against his skin, he gently kissed her face. Little, light kisses across her cheeks and nose and brow; soft kisses against her eyelids, and the tiny scar.
A child’s cry. The bark of a hound. Voices raised in consternation.
The memory was there and gone, too quick for him to grasp it. Besides, his senses were clamoring for release, to take what she offered so freely. Whomever she was.
Ivo gazed down at her, at her mouth, reddened now, lush and swollen from his kisses. He nibbled it with his teeth while thrusting slowly between her thighs, feeling the tight sheath grasping him, holding him. It felt so good and yet he was w
ild to finish it—the two longings tugged him in opposing directions, an agony that was like ecstasy.
This wasn’t going at all as Briar had imagined it.
She had thought he would take her brutally, guiltily, and then toss her aside. She had thought to find joy in it, yes, but only because it was a culmination of two years of yearning and plotting. She had certainly not expected to be thrown into such a wild, passionate storm by his embrace. And she had not imagined to feel such delight in the joining of his body to hers.
More than that.
Such a sense of rightness, as if she had been born to be here.
Sweet Jesu, how could that be?
Briar’s anxious thoughts scattered as he moved again, stroking her deep inside each time he moved his hips. Oh, it felt so good when he did that. Felt so wonderful. Caught up again in her own rising passion, and completely in thrall to his tender teasing, Briar lifted her own hips to meet him. She could feel his entire body rigid with his need to let go, and yet he did not. Incredibly he held himself back, he waited, and Briar knew instinctively he was waiting for her to soar once more, before he would allow himself to join her.
“Sing, demoiselle.” His husky breath stirred the damp curls on her brow. “Sing our song.”
No, she thought, no, I must not, I will not…But it was already too late. Briar heard her own voice, harsh with pleasure and longing, as he tipped her over the edge once more. And this time, as she reached completion, he drove hard, once, twice, and followed, shouting his joy to the shadows, planting his seed deep within her, and shuddering his contentment in her enfolding arms.
Chapter 2
Briar lay quiet, her head rested upon his chest, with her hair spilling about them both. She could feel the steady thud of his heart, as well as every breath. He was stroking her back, his fingers gentle against her heated skin, while his gloved hand rested, relaxed, upon his hard-muscled stomach. She gazed at the black leather, idly wondering what was so terrible about the hand that he must keep it covered even at such a time as this.
Beyond the chamber, the noise from the hall was faint and far away. Other musicians were entertaining the crowd—the sound of flute and drums rose and fell—but they were not so successful as she and Mary had been, if the catcalls were anything to go by. Briar tried to smile, but her lips felt frozen.
Where was her sense of triumph? There should be a wondrous sense of triumph after her two years of planning and plotting for this fateful day. Two years in which she and Mary and Jocelyn had lived like peasants—starving peasants at that!—barely staying alive. Two years in which they had been outcast from all they had loved and held dear. If it had not been for her ability to sing and Mary’s to play the harp, they would surely have perished long since. But they had survived, somehow. Each day had been a new quest to find food to eat and somewhere to sleep. The worst times had been when they were newly outcast, when she and Mary had been separated from Jocelyn and Odo, and Briar had felt as if she were truly alone.
Revenge was the only thing that had kept her from perishing.
And, of course, there was Mary.
Briar loved her younger sister very much, but every morning when she awoke it was to the knowledge that Mary was her responsibility. Jocelyn had Odo, and therefore it fell to Briar to protect Mary. If there were ever any sacrifices to be made, then Briar made them without complaint. ’Twas the way it should be, the way it must be.
Before they reached York, theirs had been a grim, day-to-day existence, and sometimes Briar had caught sight of her reflection in a puddle or a pond, and was shocked by her thin, stark appearance. The girl in the water had been a stranger. Aye, she had been thinner and paler—that was to be expected—but she had changed in essence, too. The dark emotions that had begun to burn in her eyes were very different from those that had brought her only smiles when her father was alive.
Briar was the second daughter of Lord Richard Kenton, once one of the most powerful men in England, and a loyal subject to King William the Conqueror of England and Duke of Normandy. Richard Kenton, a minor baron in Normandy, had seen an opportunity for wealth and advancement when William had asked for men to follow him and fight for him in England.
The lands of the newly named Kenton estate had been extensive, although the country was wild and strange. Briar had loved it. Her father had owned other estates—King William liked to spread the lands of his powerful barons about the countryside in case they grew too strong and set up small kingdoms of their own—but Kenton had been his favorite, too. Father and second daughter had shared that bond, despite a stepmama who was beautiful and demanding.
And then everything had gone wrong.
All because her father was wed to a woman whom Lord Radulf had once loved. And when the great Radulf had seen Anna, at his wedding ceremony to the Lady Lily in York, he wanted her again. Greedily, in the selfish manner of a child, wanted what he could not have. And when it was clear that he could not have her, he had her killed.
