Chapter Ten

V elaria had never craved anything like this before. Her body was on fire, utterly liquid with desire. Her husband's mouth upon her breast was a pleasure she'd never felt in her life. Drogan had simply stolen her innocence, claiming her and taking what he wanted. It had been over so fast, she'd felt utterly used and discarded.

But Savas was worshipping her with his mouth and tongue. She was so overwhelmed she could hardly catch her breath. And yet, the feeling of his shaft between her legs was so very good. When she moved against him, it intensified the feeling of his tongue upon her nipple.

In the darkness, his own breathing was as laboured as her own. But she needed him so badly. With Savas's help, she guided his length inside her until she was fully seated upon him. He had gone so still, she wondered if she shouldn't have done it.

‘Do you know how good you feel?' he murmured against her skin. ‘You honour me, Velaria.'

He sat up slightly, but the sensation had changed now that he was inside her.

‘May I touch you?' he asked. His voice was so hoarse, it sounded as if he was holding on to his own control.

‘Yes.' She started to move against him, but when he touched the hooded flesh above her entrance, sensations of pleasure spiralled through her. She couldn't stop herself from squeezing him, and his breathing shifted into nearly a gasp.

‘Did I hurt you?' she whispered.

‘No. Did I hurt you?'

She shook her head. ‘I wanted more.' He brought his hand back between them, and although she felt awkward, she said, ‘Here.' She showed him her most sensitive place, and when he stroked her there, waves of pleasure broke over her. Her breathing hitched, and she began panting with need.

‘Don't move,' she begged. ‘Keep touching me.'

And thank God, he obeyed. The touch of his thumb caressing her was so intense, she felt her body shudder. Then he began kissing her breast again, and the tremors pushed her to the brink of a pleasure so fierce, it shattered her. Velaria convulsed against him, and then couldn't stop herself from riding his shaft. The pleasure didn't stop, but it seemed right to share it.

She made love to him and saw the expression of raw pleasure on his face when she brought him deep inside and rose up again. He rested his hands on her hips, but not once did he force her. She was crying out, shaking as she quickened her pace. His hands moved to her bottom then, helping her as she took him again and again.

He was rigid inside her, and she looked into his eyes and said, ‘I belong to no man but you.'

Her words seemed to drive him over the edge, and when she found her pleasure another time, he went with her, groaning as he spilled his seed inside. She kept him inside her, resting her body upon his, skin to skin.

And as she drifted off to sleep, it felt as if she had reclaimed the lost part of herself.

The MacEgan escorts stayed with them for another day before they turned back to Laochre. Brian rode alongside Velaria, grateful that their marriage had shifted into the one he had hoped it would be. And yet, he couldn't deny his protective instincts. He wanted to keep his wife in hiding a little longer—at least until he'd gained the king's pardon on Velaria's behalf for the death of Lord Marwood. He still questioned why the baron had travelled into the MacEgan territory with a group of scouts. It was unusual for a nobleman, and it made Brian wonder what the man's true intentions had been, beyond attacking two young women.

‘How much farther until we reach Dunbough?' Velaria asked.

‘I don't know. But I suspect another day or two.' Trahern MacEgan had sketched out a rough map, and thus far, it had proven useful.

‘Do you...plan for us to live there?'

Brian could hear the edge of nervousness in her voice. ‘I don't know how long we'll stay,' he admitted. ‘It depends on how the king reacts when I find him.' He paused and admitted, ‘I suspect my mother was a noblewoman, but I don't know whether the king cared for her. All I know is that she left Morwenna a gown and a pendant.'

‘I hope you find her one day,' she offered, ‘and that King John acknowledges you as his son.'

‘As do I.' Even so, he intended to leave Velaria behind with Morwenna and Robert when he went to speak with the king. He didn't want her threatened by the death of Lord Marwood, and it was safer for her to stay with his family.

She rode alongside him until the afternoon sun rose high above them. There was a silvery grey lake lined with stones, and he suggested, ‘We could stop for our meal and let the horses drink and rest.'

Velaria's cheeks flushed as she seemed to guess what he truly wanted. ‘If you like.'

Her sudden shyness intensified his desire...and yet, he didn't want to press her for too much, too soon. Instead, he helped her dismount and led both horses over to drink. She gathered wood and tinder to build a fire.

His shoulder had gone stiff from the long ride, so he flexed it, moving his arm to stretch the muscle in the way Aileen had taught him. He was slowly starting to get back more range of motion.

Then he caught his wife watching him, and he stretched again, lifting his arm high and pressing it back. He didn't miss the flush on her cheeks, and he couldn't deny his own interest in her. But first, they needed food. From their belongings, he withdrew a net weighted with small stones.

‘Where did you get that?' she asked.

‘Your uncle Ewan gave it to us.' It took several tries before he managed to catch a few small fish. By that time, the fire was burning brightly while Velaria tended it. She wore a few braids across her forehead, but most of the long locks hung below her shoulders. In the afternoon sunlight, the wind caught some of the strands, and they framed her face.

‘You're staring at me,' she remarked as she stood from the fire.

‘Because you're beautiful.' Although she wore a plain green léine with an overdress in a darker shade of green, the Irish style of clothing suited her. After he set the fish up to cook, he rinsed his hands and then went to kiss her. Velaria rested her hands upon his chest, but he sensed her tension.

‘Did I hurt you last night?' he asked quietly. He'd responded out of pure instinct and didn't know if she was all right.

‘No,' she admitted. She appeared flustered and admitted, ‘I've never felt like that before with anyone.'

He pulled her hips close to his, and she suddenly seemed nervous again. He told himself it would take time for her to relinquish her fears. He relaxed his hold upon her, and her shoulders seemed to lower in relief.

One day he hoped she would be eager in their marriage bed instead of haunted by nightmares. He kept his embrace loose, and she reached up to touch his cheek.

‘What is it?' he asked. Whatever she wanted, he would give it, without question.

Then she hesitated a moment and said, ‘I'm only thinking about what lies ahead for us.'

Apprehension tightened her features, and he caught her hands in his. ‘What do you mean?'

Her palms were cold, and she lowered her gaze. ‘I know you want to visit your sister. But will we stay there? Or go home to England?'

Though it was an honest question, he understood the greater implications. ‘I must speak with my father before I can make that decision.'

She paused a moment. ‘Don't put all your hopes on King John. What if he denies you as his son?' It was a risk, but before he could answer, she continued, ‘I think we should accept help from my father and brother. We could live at Ardennes or Dolwyth... Or perhaps we should go to Staunton. We could find out what happened to Alexander after he freed us.'

Her suggestion about visiting Lord Staunton held merit. ‘I agree that we should go and see him after what he did for us.' Brian released her hands. ‘But do not be afraid if the king refuses to acknowledge me. I'll find a way to provide for you myself, Velaria.' He wasn't about to live off the goodwill of others. ‘I will hire out my sword, if need be.'

‘Can you still fight?' Her words were an invisible barb, and he knew her question was about his injury. He gave no reaction and held back every emotion, steeling himself.

‘Do you want to spar?' he asked. ‘Should I prove myself to you?'

She took another step backwards. ‘Savas, that's not necessary. I only meant that—'

‘Train with me,' he insisted. ‘We'll make a wager of it.'

She was already shaking her head. ‘No. There's no need.'

But he wasn't finished yet. ‘Are you afraid to fight any more, Velaria? After all this time?'

‘I'm not afraid. But your shoulder...' Her words trailed off.

He realised then that she hadn't been admiring his exercises—she'd recognised his loss of flexibility and motion. But he continued to stretch each day, and already he'd seen an improvement.

Brian strode towards the pack of their belongings and withdrew two swords. He held one out to her. ‘Fight me, Velaria. Let me prove myself to you.'

‘Why?' She was still entirely unwilling and refused to take the weapon.

‘Because for some reason, you seem to think I am still weak after my injury,' he said.

Her expression turned grave. ‘You didn't win the sword match on Bealtaine. If that had happened in Constantinople, you'd be dead. And I'm not willing to lose you again.'

Her lack of faith in his fighting skills was an invisible blow he'd never expected. But he would show her the truth—that he was strong enough to win.

‘Spar with me, Velaria,' he said. ‘If you are victorious, I'll grant you a favour of your choosing.'

His wife seemed to consider it. ‘And what if I ask you not to fight again?'

He wouldn't even consider that as an option. But he needed to show her that he could win. ‘Do you want to know what I want if I win?'

Velaria met his gaze and asked softly, ‘What do you want?'

He took the short sword and tested its weight. Then he eyed his wife. ‘I want to learn your body better than my own. I want to spend an entire night discovering how to make you burn with pleasure.'

A surge of liquid heat seemed to flood through her at his words. Velaria was torn between accepting the fight and wondering what it would be like to experience such a night in his arms.

But her greater concern was their future. Savas was resting all his hopes on a capricious king who had not won the approval of his noblemen. And God help her, she knew he would hire out his sword rather than accept help from her family. His pride was too great for that.

She accepted the sword, testing the weight and balance of the blade. He assumed a fighting stance, but she was not yet ready. Instead, she removed her overdress and léine until she stood only in her shift. She needed greater freedom of movement, and the weight of her gown would only hold her back.

She stretched her arms, drawing his attention to her breasts. And when she braided back her hair, she didn't bother to hide the way her shift moulded to her body.

Now she had his full attention as he circled her and said, ‘Whoever disarms the other person is the winner.'

She gave a slight intake of breath as she withdrew her own weapon and assumed a fighting stance. ‘You can try.'

‘Oh, I will,' he said. ‘And then I'm going to lay you down and put my mouth upon every inch of your body.' He stripped off his tunic and bared his upper torso.

She went breathless at his words, and for a moment, she faltered. He'd caught her full attention with his ridged muscles and she imagined putting her mouth on him.

Savas struck out with his weapon, and only instinct brought her own sword up to block him. He wasn't going to fight fair, and from the way he was staring at her, he would do anything to win.

His shoulder was his weakness...but so was his desire for her. She considered how best to attack, and her words became another weapon.

‘I remember what it was like to touch you,' she said softly. ‘And feel your bare skin against mine.'

He let out a slow breath of air as if he were imagining it. But when she struck hard, he defended the blow.

‘When I end this match, I plan to do exactly that.' He moved in closer, but she spun away.

‘I want to build a life with you,' she admitted. ‘But I don't want you to hire out your sword. I want you to stay with me.' The thought of him leaving her again and taking such a risk was horrifying.

His face tensed, and she moved to a new angle, forcing his weaker shoulder to deflect another strike. ‘I don't need the pity of your family, Velaria. I won't take what I haven't earned.'

‘Then find another way.' She blocked his next blow, holding it steady. His face was so near to hers, his blue eyes burned with the heat of desire. ‘Don't let the king brush you aside.'

‘I have no control over his opinion of me.' His voice held a shadowed darkness, as if she'd struck a different kind of blow. Deep within, Savas did not believe himself worthy. And now she wished she hadn't spoken of it. He had become legendary within the fighting arena, a fighter whom men feared to face. He had earned that pride.

And she would not take it from him.

She lowered her sword and faced her husband. Then she opened her arms to the man who was quickly stealing her heart.

He dropped his own weapon and caught her up in his embrace. ‘I wasn't expecting you to surrender, Velaria.'

‘I don't want to fight you,' she answered honestly. Although she was still afraid of intimacy, she was starting to realise that he'd been right. With him, there was only pleasure.

Savas took her travelling cloak and laid it out on the soft grasses. Then he knelt down and reached for her calves. Slowly, his hands slid up her skin, higher to her thighs, and he pressed his hand between them.

‘Open for me,' he commanded.

She obeyed, and still, she was uncertain about what he meant to do. His hand caressed her bare thigh, rising higher towards the centre of her. Already, she was restless, feeling vulnerable to the sweet ache within her. Her knees went weak, and he helped guide her back, his hands trailing her body as he explored her.

As promised, his hands seemed to be everywhere upon her legs, stroking and caressing her skin. She reached out to bring him closer, and he covered her nipple with his mouth, causing her to grip his hair.

‘You're sensitive there, aren't you?' he murmured against the erect tip.

‘Yes,' she breathed. The heady kiss and the way his tongue swirled over her brought a wetness between her legs. She was shifting beneath him, the pleasure causing her to rise to his touch. She craved her husband, and without thinking, she guided his hand to her intimate flesh. Savas let out a low growl of approval, and she arched her back in shock when he slid a finger inside her. She nearly came apart when he began caressing her, and she reached down until her hand closed over his erection. He was using the barest rhythm, and his gentleness was driving her over the edge.

‘More,' she pleaded, and her own voice was barely recognisable. She felt primal, hardly able to think.

And when he replaced his hand with his tongue, her hands gripped the edges of the cloak, and her body pulsed as he feasted. She couldn't stop the rhythmic panting of her own breath or the pounding of her heart as he discovered how to make her burn.

‘Savas,' she moaned, and he increased the pressure only slightly, driving her closer and closer until she erupted with the force of her release. He never relented, but suckled against her nodule while both of his hands cupped her breasts, caressing her nipples.

Never in her life had she felt such an out-of-control experience, and she was about to guide him inside her when they heard the sound of approaching horses. Her husband quickly covered her with her cloak and adjusted his trews.

There was a small copse of trees, and Velaria seized her sword, just as he did his. It was too late to take their horses, so they simply hid within the trees while the travellers passed by. She saw no armour, and it appeared that the men wore Norman clothing. From their bright colours, she suspected they were noblemen. But who were they? The men rode north in haste, and thankfully it didn't seem that they'd noticed them there.

Savas stood in front of her, his weapon in hand. She guessed there were twenty in the travelling party, but again, there appeared to be no threat. Velaria lowered her weapon, and soon enough, he did the same.

Her heart was still beating, and when at last he turned to her, she whispered, ‘We weren't finished yet.' Slowly, she exposed herself from the cloak and was rewarded when his face turned pained with rigid desire.

‘I don't think—' His words broke off when she loosened his trews and found his erection. The moment her hand closed over him, he lifted her away and pressed her against a tree. ‘Never mind. I don't care any more.'

He fitted himself to her wet entrance, and she bit her lip as he slowly sank deep inside. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and his mouth closed over her breast again as he started to move against her.

She was fully conscious of his strength and how he picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. The sound of horses was starting to fade, and he began to thrust gently. Her body welcomed the intrusion, and she began to move with him, trying to increase the friction.

‘Shh,' he urged as a keening cry caught within her. He was unbearably gentle, and the slow, deep thrusts were pressing her towards a wildness she couldn't endure. She started to increase her pace, gripping his shoulders as he took her by the waist. He seemed to understand what she wanted, and he drove himself deep inside over and over.

She covered his mouth with her own, her tongue twining with his as he made love to her. The heady rush of release came barrelling towards her again, but she welcomed it, knowing that he was giving himself to her.

She accepted him in her body, surrendering as they gave and took from one another. When she dared to open her eyes, she saw that he was fighting for control, his body pulsing within her.

‘Let go,' she urged. ‘It's all right. You won't hurt me.'

And God help her, he did. His breath was ragged as he abandoned caution and took what he needed from her. To her surprise, it wasn't at all frightening—instead, it only intensified her own response until she shattered against him, going utterly liquid while he penetrated and withdrew. He gave a few last deep strokes before he found his own pleasure, and she clung to him, shaking as he did.

There were no words, nothing to describe the feelings she held for this man. And yet, she didn't know what path lay ahead for them or what the future would bring.

They arrived at Dunbough a few days later. Brian saw the large castle on the edge of the coast, and for a moment, raw emotion caught in his throat. It had been so long since he'd seen his sister. For a moment, a sense of uncertainty passed over him.

Velaria seemed to sense his feelings, and she rode up beside him. ‘Are you all right?'

He exchanged a glance with her. ‘It's been years since I've seen her. I don't know if Morwenna is angry with me for what I did. I abandoned her.'

‘You were fifteen,' Velaria said. ‘I think she will be glad to see you.'

It wasn't his sister who concerned him as much as her husband. He wasn't at all certain Robert would want to see him again—especially after he'd nearly got the man killed.

Velaria paused a moment and said, ‘Do you want to go alone when you meet her first? I can wait here in the forest.'

He hesitated, not really wanting to leave her. And yet, if Robert was still angry with him, it might make her uncomfortable to witness whatever his sister's husband wanted to say.

Though it wasn't his preference, it seemed wise not to bring too many surprises at once. ‘Just for a little while,' he said. He uncovered a bow and arrows and handed them to her. ‘Take these, in case you need them.' Though they were now on Robert's lands, he wanted his wife to remain well armed. ‘I'll return to you soon.'

She caught his hand and leaned close to kiss him. ‘I'll be waiting.'

He glanced around, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. She would be safe enough until his return.

He continued riding through the forest and towards the castle. Just as he reached the main path, two men approached him on horseback and spoke in Irish. Though Brian didn't understand their words, he gave his name and added, ‘Morwenna is my sister.'

One nodded and rode swiftly towards the castle while the other man motioned him forward. He suspected they were going to tell Robert and Morwenna of his arrival. He kept the pace of his horse slow as he studied the high walls surrounding the castle. A little while later, he saw a man and woman walking outside the gate. From this distance, he guessed it was his sister and Robert. She was holding an infant while she spoke to the man, and beside them stood a young boy.

Brian held his horse steady, staring at them as if he could take back the years that had been stolen from them. He allowed himself to imagine what it would be like if Velaria bore a son or a daughter. The thought evoked a longing he'd never dared to imagine.

And he understood, then, why she no longer wanted him to fight. She didn't want him to leave her alone with their children, never knowing whether he would return.

Just then, his sister seemed to catch sight of him. She started to run, clutching her infant as she did. ‘Brian!' she cried out, while tears of joy spilled over her cheeks. ‘My brother!'

The ache of happiness that caught him made his own eyes sting. He urged his horse closer, and the sight of his sister filled him with gratitude. She wore a crimson bliaud with fitted sleeves and a golden girdle that suited her as Lady of Dunbough.

Robert wore chainmail armour and a dark cloak, and he rested his hand on a young boy's shoulder. It warmed him to know that the man was now his brother in truth. The kind smile on Robert's face filled him with relief and the hope of forgiveness.

Brian dismounted, and he caught Morwenna in an embrace as she wept. Robert took the baby from her, and Brian held his sister close, stroking back her dark hair. The joy on her face mirrored his own. He gripped her hard and finally said, ‘I returned to the abbey, and Father Oswold told me where you were.' He glanced over at Robert, and added, ‘I thought you were dead on the night we tried to rescue Morwenna. It was my fault.'

Even now, the memory of his reckless actions evoked guilt. He now understood why Robert had tried to stop him, and Brian wished he could go back and change what he'd done.

Robert's expression held forgiveness, and he shook his head. ‘No, you were right to attack. I should have done so sooner.' After a pause, he said, ‘I only wish you had stayed at the abbey a little longer.'

If he had, he would have learned of Robert's survival. And yet...he wouldn't have left for Constantinople, nor would he have met Velaria. A tightness caught in his chest at the thought.

He drew back from his sister's embrace. ‘I never imagined you would give up your lands at Penrith.' For so long, it was all Robert had wanted. He'd spent years training to win back his birthright, and Brian didn't understand why his friend had given up.

‘I found something of greater value,' Robert answered, with a smile towards his wife and children. Just then, the baby began to sob, and he put his daughter to his shoulder, soothing her and patting her back.

The sight of the father and infant twisted Brian's own yearning for a family of his own. The thought of a daughter with Velaria's eyes or a son of their own evoked an inner vow. One day, it would happen.

He glanced down at his young nephew, and the child's face held worry. Brian smiled as he knelt down to the boy. ‘I am your uncle Brian, young lad. What's your name?'

‘Nicholas,' he answered.

The boy appeared uncertain and reached out to his mother. Morwenna smoothed his hair to offer reassurance. ‘He's my brother, sweeting. Just as you are Eleanor's brother.'

At that, her son seemed to understand. He tugged his mother's skirts and informed her, ‘I need to play.'

‘Go on, then.' Brian patted his nephew's shoulder and the boy hurried off, running to join a group of older children. Then he turned to meet Morwenna's gaze. ‘You look happy, my sister.'

‘I am. More so, now that I know you're safe.'

There was thankfulness in her demeanour, and her husband rested his hand against her spine. ‘Have you to come to live with us, Brian?' Robert asked. ‘We would be glad to have you stay.'

‘I will visit for a time,' he agreed, ‘but I have my own debt to repay.' After he gained an audience with the king, he would take Velaria to visit Lord Staunton and his wife. Then he would decide where to go next.

‘What sort of debt?' Morwenna asked. ‘Do you need our help?'

Brian shook his head. ‘Not one that involves silver. The debt was my life.' And Velaria's. The more he thought of it, the more it felt right to travel to Staunton. Then, at least, he would know whether the baron had made it back safely.

‘You have our help, should you need it,' Robert promised. ‘Come and join us for a meal.'

Brian glanced back towards the forest, wondering how he should tell them of his sudden marriage to Velaria. He studied their surroundings while they walked together towards the keep. As they passed the people, it was clear that Morwenna and Robert had built Dunbough into a place of prosperity.

Before he could speak to his sister about Velaria, Morwenna turned to them and said, ‘I need to feed the baby. I will join you afterwards.'

Robert kissed her, letting his hand linger at her waist as he gave her their daughter. ‘I'll be waiting.'

She walked towards a set of spiral stairs, leaving them alone. Brian walked alongside Robert and said, ‘If you'll come with me, there's someone I want to introduce to you.'

Robert's expression turned curious. ‘Someone?'

‘My wife, Velaria.'

At that, his friend brightened. ‘And you left her alone? Morwenna will be angry with you for not bringing her with you right away.'

‘I wasn't certain you would want to see me,' Brian admitted. ‘After what I did, and after I abandoned Morwenna, I deserved to be cast off.'

Robert clapped him on the back. ‘We are brothers now, Brian. And the past can remain there.' His smile broadened. ‘Now, let us go and fetch your wife so Morwenna can be surprised when we return.'

They walked along the pathway towards the woods, and Brian remarked, ‘Father Oswold told me Piers married Lady Gwendoline, the Penrith heiress. How did that come about?'

Robert laughed and said, ‘Piers wed her in secret. Her father tried to have him killed, but he won that battle. Now they govern two estates—Penrith and Tilmain.'

It seemed impossible to imagine that Piers had managed such a feat, for he'd been a bastard son, just like himself. But Robert didn't seem at all displeased by the turn of events.

Their path wound downhill towards the trees, and Brian led them back to Velaria. He couldn't stop his smile when he saw her holding a bow with an arrow nocked.

She lowered the weapon as soon as she saw them and offered a chagrined smile as she put the arrow away. ‘I didn't know it was you.'

‘Velaria, this is my sister's husband, Robert, the Earl of Dunbough.' To Robert he said, ‘This is my wife, Velaria of Ardennes.'

She set the bow down and Robert took her hand in greeting. ‘I look forward to hearing the story of how the two of you came to be married.' He exchanged a look with Brian. ‘I presume you met while you were on Crusade.'

‘In a manner of speaking,' he hedged. He pressed his hand to Velaria's spine and led her back towards the path with Robert. She leaned closer to him, and he sensed her apprehension about meeting his family.

He leaned in and said, ‘Morwenna and Robert have two children. We have a nephew and a niece you'll want to meet.'

A softness stole over her face. ‘I look forward to that.'

Robert led them back to the castle, and along the way he added, ‘Now that you've introduced me to your wife, there is someone else here who will want to meet you both.' There was a gleam in his eyes, and he regarded Brian. ‘It's your mother.'