Epilogue

Penelope

O nly a week later, we are back in the capital city in the heart of Pershore for our wedding ceremony.

I feel what it is to be a princess.

Not in the sense of being a daughter to a king, but in the sense of any woman about to commit to the man she loves before the Goddess. The whole day has been lost under a frenzy of preparation as my maids flittered around me under the direction of my great-aunt, ensuring my hair was coiled just right and my gown and headdress perfect. Standing before the mirror, I stare at a stranger who looks impossibly exotic in the traditional vow-gown of my mother's people. The dress is sky blue and embroidered with silk stitching on the bodice and around the hem of the full skirts. The headdress is an elaborate ensemble that settles like a tall, layered crown, covered with gems and precious stones that twinkle and sparkle as I twist this way and that.

"Beautiful!" my great-aunt gushes. "How proud your mother would be!"

Tears spring from my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. Today is a day not for tears but for celebrating. Today, I honor my mother as I join with the man I love.

My father enters the room as the maids and my great-aunt fuss over the finishing touches. I see the shine in his eyes as he takes my hands and leans in to kiss my cheek. "My beautiful daughter! How perfect you look."

I know he is thinking about my mother. On such days, it is inevitable that she should be close to all our thoughts. A new life is already growing inside me, the product of the love between Alfred and me. How I wish she were here to guide me as I journey into motherhood.

We cannot change what has come to pass; we can only build upon what we have. Many times, my father has spoken about how my mother held me for that brief moment before she passed, how happy she was to have borne me into the world, and how she shared a final look with my father that held all their love for each other and me.

There was a time when I was scared of the future, but I am not scared anymore. Time is precious; we cannot know how much or how little of it we might claim.

Every day is a gift, and I would treat it as such.

A smart coach with two white horses transports us to the temple, where we will speak our vows.

Alfred waits for me, looking resplendent in a matching blue silk suit with embroidery upon the cuffs and lapels. His hair is neatly braided to either side of his face, falling over his shoulders; his beard is likewise braided. He is still very much a barbarian, but now he is a barbarian in a suit.

The fine clothes emphasize just how huge he is. The admiring glances of the ladies in the assembled crowd do not escape my notice.

I do not let it bother me, for I know he is mine. This wedding is merely a formality as we bridge the gap between our two cultures in ways that are acceptable to both.

The hide dress I acquired holds pride of place in my closet among the silk gowns. I plan to purchase a few more to add to the collection. When we return to our estate tomorrow, the barbarian version of our bed will be waiting for us. In the privacy of our home, we can be whatever we want to be.

I only know that he makes me a better version of myself. He says the same of me. And isn't that the most beautiful thing about love? That somebody loves us as we are, yet also changes us in gentle, encouraging ways for the better.

As I stand in the temple of Pershore and say the words of commitment, I feel them in the deepest, most pervasive of ways. Looking into his eyes, I understand that the tie between us goes both ways, that my love for him is equal and opposite to his love for me. Somewhere high above, my mother is with the Goddess and looks down with pride.

"You may now kiss your wife," the celebrant says.

Alfred grins. My eyes narrow. He has been coached in the acceptable and unacceptable ways to kiss a wife after the ceremony.

He winks at me. My heart does that little flutter thing it does so often around him, which I hope shall never wear off. He is gentle as he slips one arm around my waist, lulling me into a hope that he's not going to do anything untoward.

A gasp escapes my lips as he tips me backward. My hand goes to my headdress, lest it fall to the floor.

I hear guffaws from the crowd, which are assuredly not all from his clansmen and clanswomen who have joined us here today.

He smirks.

I give my head a little warning shake.

He kisses me chastely on the lip, then rights me before taking my hand in his.

Why do I feel strangely cheated? What has he done to me to make me crave his wicked, barbarian ways?

He looks down at my hand and toys with the slim band of gold on my finger. There is a gleam in his eyes. "I like this band," he says, for my ears only. "It is evidence that you are claimed."

I turn his hand over and point at the similar band on his finger. "Likewise, husband . You, too, have been claimed."

He chuckles. "Never doubt it. We barbarians are very picky, but once we find our one, there can be no other choice."

Alfred

She thinks I am on my best behavior and I can see she is disappointed about it. Oh, she tries to maintain a civilized facade, but I fear it is all too late when I have already corrupted her to my barbarian ways.

She has taken well to rutting and knotting, and her pregnancy makes her greedy for me and my cock.

I cannot give her a home of my own making, or other physical things. She has wealth and an army to keep her safe. But I can give her my life and my love and as much hot rutting as her sweet body can endure. She is shameless for my attention, and it is my duty to keep her well-sated lest she ever doubt my love.

Penelope

We are ushered into the adjoining annex, where we will sign the official documents proclaiming us husband and wife.

Alfred is worryingly well-behaved as we sign the documents, and doesn't even try to pat my ass or sneak another kiss.

"We are done now?" he asks casually, and in a way that snags my attention. "Penelope is finally my wife ?"

He says the word wife with emphasis and a familiar glint in his eye. I have a feeling my fierce barbarian likes the sound of my new title.

"She is," the celebrant confirms with a broad smile.

"Good. Now, I need a moment alone with my woman," Alfred says.

"Alfred?" I feel my cheeks heat.

"Moment?" my father asks, his brows pulling together.

"Yes. A moment," Alfred confirms, grinning. "To consummate matters with my wife in a barbarian way."

"I don't think?—"

Alfred snakes his arm around my waist and drags me close. "Quiet, mate, I shall tend you duly."

The celebrant mutters something about barbaric customs. My father shuts him up and ushers him out, perhaps sensing Alfred will progress matters whether they are present or not.

Oh, how could I ever fool myself into thinking he would be civilized!

No sooner do they exit the small stone chamber than I am walked backward until my legs hit the wooden chair I used while signing the marriage document.

I sit.

He kneels before me and tosses up my dress with a smirk. "That's my good girl. Grip my hair and show your new husband where you need his tongue."

Goddess help me. I am lost from the first swipe.

"Hush," he rumbles, lifting his head and pinning me with a glare.

"Oh, I can't be quiet," I hiss. "You need to stop!"

His solution is to thrust three fingers into my mouth to smother my moans and go back to eating me out.

It's no use. It feels too good. I fist his hair to guide him where I need him, and when he does, I come with a muffled scream.

He rises, licking his lips and looking well pleased with himself.

"There," he says, with a wink. "Consider yourself tamed for my pleasure."

"What about mine?" I ask, with a satisfied smile.

"Don't worry," he says. "I made sure there is a nice, padded cushion for your knees during the carriage ride back to the castle."

"You are outrageous," I say, as he helps me rise and straighten out my gown. My headdress is a little off-center, and I do my best to straighten it.

He lifts one brow in question and flattens my palm against his hard cock throbbing behind his suit pants.

"Fine," I say, smiling up at the man I adore as I squeeze over the firm flesh—delighted when he groans. "You know I would not change a thing. Let us hurry to the carriage. It seems I, too, have a husband in need of taming for my pleasure."

Thank you for reading Tamed for Her Pleasure. I hope you enjoyed the book!

What is next from Coveted Prey? How about a sweet and spicy sifter romance? Fawn is coming very soon.