Nothing Else Matters (7 page)

Eleanor hadn’t known what to do when Stian woke and immediately moved away from her. She missed him as soon as he was gone. His hands had

touched her sometime during the night then his head had found its way to pil ow on her breast. His body had warmed her and his touch had not been

unpleasant. With the warrior beside her, she had even felt safe enough to sleep in the cave. She had not felt so alone even though he’d been oblivious of her presence.

At first she had been mortified at the rejection when he left. Then she’d heard him puking into the bracken and every bit of annoyance she’d felt at him the day before was rekindled.

“Drunken lout,” she muttered as she’d pul ed the cloak around her and fol owed him outside, intending to berate the fool for his behavior. She’d ended up hesitating at the entrance of the cave, stiff with anger but holding her tongue. She’d put a hard rein on her temper and made herself think. She

remembered her intentions of the night before to entice Sir Stian of Harelby with loving eagerness. She remembered her wedding vows. They may have

been spoken under duress but they were binding on her for now just the same.

It was her duty to give Stian of Harelby her body. The problem was, how did she go about getting his attention long enough to accomplish the deed? Only one thought came to mind as he stood and looked about him, naked as the day he was born. Then the thought fled momentarily as she got a good look at

just what the priest had enjoined her to submit to the night before.

The curling hairs on his broad chest were redder than the gold red of the hair on his head. Her gaze traveled down past his hard bel y and narrow hips to find that the hair at his groin was the reddest of al , almost wine dark. She knew what men and women did together and had speculated wildly about what the act truly would be like. Knowledge was al very wel and good, but practical experience was lacking and she knew not how to begin. After al , Stian was more wild than tame, perhaps he would not recognize any efforts at gentle seduction. She feared her marriage bed would be a rough and turbulent place.

Now, seeing him as God had made him, she found herself more fascinated than fearful at the sight. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to show herself to him, to be as naked as he was in this primeval place. She let the cloak fal away, playing Eve to his Adam.

It was not shameful to be naked in front of one’s husband but Eleanor stil could not bear the hot scrutiny of his gaze. She looked away, hiding her face behind a wal of hair, not daring to look at Stian of Harelby. She waited, hardly able to breathe as she heard him approach.

When he touched her, she knew not how to react for the sensation was both cold and hot, and the hand that splayed across her hip did so with gentle

pressure. His other hand brushed her hair aside then his fingers traced across her cheek. He drew her closer and she turned her head to look at him at last. He was smiling.

It was the first time he had looked at her without anger, without resentment, without a threatening glare. Oh there was heat in his glance, but heat that had nothing to do with anger. There was nothing mild about his regard, but neither was it threatening. She even found herself smiling a little in response.

He pul ed her closer, making her aware of his need. Far from being disturbed, a ripple of pleasure went through her. What he needed she could give, if not gladly, it would at least be without fear or grudging acquiescence.

She tried to recal the things Lady Constance had said about pleasuring a man’s body, but there was so much of Stian she didn’t know where to begin.

Just looking at him was a daunting experience. So she took him in a bit at a time, and where her gaze touched, she let her fingers fol ow.

Stian felt a burst of warmth at the spots where she touched him, like sparks stirred up from a fire. His flesh had been cool, stil damp from the water, but now it felt warm enough to raise steam. She moved her hands with easy friction along the wet skin of his chest, up and down his arms, along his

col arbone. She took her time, and to his surprise, he let her. He liked the feel of her soft little hands as they ran over him.

He’d been hot to have her when he’d first come out of the water, he was growing hotter stil . But somehow the waiting made the wanting sharper, better.

When he bent his head to kiss her, her mouth touched his first. Her tongue teased his lips open, delved and explored. His breath was coming in ragged

gasps by the time she was done with kissing him. He quickly pushed away the vague memory of sharp teeth and a bitten tongue.

Her hands moved down his ribs to his hips then around to his buttocks. She pul ed him closer. Without thought, Stian lifted the girl. The soft roundness of her buttocks fitted his hands perfectly. He forgot everything else as he carried her into the cave.

He kept a pile of fur and wool blankets in the back of the cave for his visits. He took the girl to them, kissing her as he lowered them to the ground. He ignored the faint musty smel from the furs as they lay down together. His hands found her breasts, rol ing the tight peaks between his fingers. His mouth soon fol owed his hands. He drew a straining nipple into his mouth and suckled while the girl continued to caress his shoulders and back. He breathed in the scent of her skin, ran his cheek along the softness of her bel y.

When sharp claws bit into his shoulder, he took a light nip at the side of the girl’s breast. She moaned and he laughed, and whispered, “Open for me.”

After a moment of teasing hesitation the girl did as he commanded. He moved to quickly settle himself between her spread thighs. She gave a sharp cry

as he entered her. He was aware of the tight pressure surrounding him, of the hot slickness of her sex, then he was lost to al but the building need. His hips pumped and ground against her hard and fast, seeking toward sweet release.

Eleanor had been so intent on trying to remember just what she was supposed to do she hadn’t realized she was actual y enjoying herself until the

pleasure abruptly stopped. She wanted to scream when he entered her, she wanted to push him away as he kept on penetrating her burning insides, but

this was what the marriage bed was al about. This was woman’s punishment for Eve’s sin. Never mind the pleasures promised by Lady Constance, she

knew the best she could do was endure the experience.

Stil , she recal ed her lessons. She clutched hard at Stian’s back, closed her eyes and lifted her hips to meet his pummeling thrusts. Oddly enough, the pain lessened with her participation in the event. While the pain didn’t disappear entirely, Eleanor was beginning to recapture some of the earlier eager aching by the time Stian was done with the act. When he pul ed out of her, she almost wished he wouldn’t. She thought that if it had gone on a bit longer, she might have gotten some notion of what Lady Constance meant.

Wel , it hadn’t.

Stian stayed close beside her, his breathing ragged, his arm thrown over his eyes. She lay on her back and looked up at the cave ceiling. The furs

beneath her were soft. She was comfortable enough, al things considered. She didn’t actual y want to move and she wasn’t sure she could. Stian had hurt her, her nether regions felt as if they were on fire. She hoped he didn’t expect her to jump up and offer him sweetmeats and a flagon of mul ed wine. No, probably not. Lady Constance had said that such bedroom activities were a civilized ending for the act. Stian of Harelby was anything but civilized.

Besides, they weren’t even in a bedroom.

Eleanor closed her eyes again. She was so tired.

Slowly, Stian became aware that the musky scent that lingered about them was tainted with another familiar odor. There was a smel of blood in the air and this struck him as passing strange.

Until memory came storming angrily back into his thoughts. The sated pleasure of his body was completely forgotten, replaced by an ache in his gut as

guilt twisted through it. He’d drunk too much. Again. So he’d faced a fine lady and his father’s strong wil with raw temper and raw nerves and done and said things that made no sense to his sober, sensible mind. There’d been a feast and vows made by candlelight, and for some stupid reason he’d

kidnapped his own—

“Oh sweet Jesu,” he whispered raggedly.

He rol ed onto his side to look down at the girl he’d just bedded. He could barely make out her form in the shadows of the cave but he knew her.

He stil couldn’t remember her name.

He touched her shoulder, trying to be as gentle as a rough simpleton such as himself could be. She didn’t move.

“Are you my wife?” he asked.

She was asleep.

Stian knew not whether to be grateful or annoyed that his lovemaking had such an effect on her. He wondered if she was hurt. He had never bedded such

a highborn woman before, nor had he ever had a virgin. He wondered if the combination might prove fatal to the gently bred lady.

He rubbed his aching shoulder as he watched the naked woman sleep. He could make out a bite mark on one fine breast, but thought that perhaps she

had given as good as she got or his shoulder wouldn’t be hurting. Perhaps she was not so delicate after al . He prayed so. For it was not his habit to satisfy his lust with the pain of his companion.

Stian sighed and decided not to worry himself unduly over the act. She was his wife, she had done her duty by lying with him. He’d taken her maidenhead, but there had been no sin in the fornication. Perhaps he’d even planted a babe with the act.

“Hubert wil be pleased that I’ve managed to go a few hours without bringing some sin down on my head,” he murmured as he reached out to run his hand

down the length of his wife’s shapely thigh.

Much to his surprise, his wife opened her eyes and answered, “Hubert is a very odd priest.”

Wel , at least she had lived through their rough coupling. Stian moved to sit back on his heels. “Hubert is a good lad.”

His wife turned her head away. Her body went stiff with tension. “My lord,” she said. “You are naked.”

He put his hand over her breast—it fit wel against his palm. “What of it?”

Eleanor gave a weary sigh and murmured, “Aye, indeed.”

His hand stayed on her breast as she sat up. She was tempted to push it away but she had grown cold and the spot where he touched her seemed to

radiate the only warmth in the whole cave. She found herself overcoming her momentary shame as curiosity drew her to look at her husband once again.

He looked disheveled and wild but not so fierce as she remembered. When he smiled at her, he showed too many teeth for comfort’s sake but she didn’t

actual y think she was in danger of being eaten alive. Yesterday death and dismemberment at this bad tempered, red-pelted lout’s hands had seemed a

real possibility. What he had just done to her had not been worse than death, despite its unpleasant moments. It seemed entirely possible to Eleanor that she would certainly survive repeating the act, she just hoped it wouldn’t be too soon. She found herself glancing down from her husband’s face to his groin in hopes there was nothing stirring there that she was going to have to deal with immediately.

“There’s food if you’re hungry.”

Stian’s voice was a rough, not unpleasant rumble in her ear. She jumped at the sound of it. Blinking, she asked, “What?” His hand was stil on her breast.

She noticed only because when he spoke, the sensitive peak grew suddenly tight and hard.

He must have noticed because he moved his hand away. “You’re cold,” he said, and pul ed a fur covering up over her shoulders.

Eleanor wrapped the fur around herself, grateful for the warmth and to cover her nakedness. Stian left the cave. She found herself studying the play of muscles in his back and buttocks and strong legs as he strode out into the daylight. She noticed not only that he was wel made but took note of the white lines left by several scars. The evidence of battle showed the young knight had obviously earned his accolade. Or possibly he’s been betrothed before, she thought as she recal ed her reaction to having been tossed on a table and near ravished by the stinking beast.

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory and wonder at her own change of attitude. Yesterday she had been sure she’d have nightmares from the

incident for the rest of her life. Why was she feeling mol ified toward the man who had abducted her to this dank place? Had he done anything to prove that he was safe to be with? Had he brought her here, away from Lord Roger’s protection, to beat and starve and break her at his leisure?

When he came back, he was dressed. He put a large bag down in front of her. “There’s bread and cheese.” He tipped a bulging water skin to his lips and drank deeply. “Ale too,” he added as he passed the skin to her.

It would seem that Stian was not planning on starving her, at least.

“You’l want to bathe after you’ve eaten,” he added. “The water’s cold but it might keep your muscles from stiffening anyway.”

He chuckled after he spoke, though the words themselves were essential y helpful. Perhaps he did not intend to beat her either. He also had a smug look on his face that told her how proud he felt at having just taken her maidenhead. The gaze that raked her was as possessive as it was smug. If she hadn’t been so hungry, her stomach might have knotted with fury at his cocksure attitude. As it was, she put indignation aside in favor of breaking her fast with the food he’d brought her.

Stian ended up taking most of the meal, assuming, she supposed, that his larger size made him the hungrier of the two of them. He was wrong. He was

right about bathing helping her stiff muscles though. He watched her with an amused and randy eye the whole time she splashed in the water.

Since he was intent on looking his fil anyway, Eleanor set about her ablutions in as slow and provocative manner as she could manage. In truth, she felt like a wanton fool as she practical y caressed her damp breasts and thighs and bel y when she’d have preferred a good, brisk scrubbing.