A Love for All Time (23 page)

“Aidan!”
His stallion filled the doorway.

“Go to hell!” she spat at him.

“What in God’s name has gotten into ye, woman? I love ye, and ye love me. We’re going to go to our own chamber, and make sweet love for the rest of the day, sweeting.”

“Ye were making love to me, Conn! Making love to me beneath the dawn sky upon my favorite hill, and then just because I admitted my folly in loving ye ye stop, yank me up, and say we’ll go home to make love! I am not one of yer creatures to be used! I am yer wife, Conn, and if ye ever do that to me again, I’ll cut yer ears off, I swear it!”

Conn slid easily from his horse, and closing the stable door behind him led his animal to its own stall. “So, madame, ye don’t care where I take ye as long as I finish what I start? Is that it?”

“Aye!” She glared at him furiously.

“Come here!”

“What?”

“Come here!” he repeated.

In the dimness of the stable she could see his eyes glittering in what she thought was a rather dangerous fashion. She moved closer to her horse as if for protection, and he laughed softly. “Open the door,” she said nervously.

“And let the entire household see me making love to my wife? I think not, Aidan, sweeting.”

“Ye would make love to me in a stable?”

Reaching into the stall he pulled her out, and picking her up dumped her most unceremoniously into a pile of hay. “I understand that yer in a hurry, sweeting, and thinking back I realize that yer perfectly right. I’m a damned fool to have ceased so sweet an activity simply to be more comfortable.” His hands slipped into her shirt. “We never did button ye up, did we?” He caressed her passionately, his fingers kneading at her flesh until she thought she would scream. He pushed the fabric back, tearing the silk in his impatience, and then his head was lowered and he took a nipple between his lips to suck upon it hungrily. Daintily he nibbled upon it with tiny sharp bites of his teeth, and she moaned with surprise for he had never been rough with her, yet what he did was pleasant for he was not cruel.

“My sweet wife with her outrageously beautiful body,” he murmured against her. “I want to bury myself within ye, Aidan! I want to spend a lifetime making love to ye. I adore ye, wench! Do ye understand that? I love ye!” He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “I’ve never said that to a woman before, Aidan. I’ve never told any woman until ye that I loved her. Love is too precious a commodity to make light of, my darling.” He reached out, and caressed her again.

“Damn ye, Conn,” she said weakly, and with not a great deal of conviction. “I will be treated with respect. I am not one of yer light o’ loves, my lord, but God help me I love ye, too.” She pulled his head back down to her so they could kiss again, and as their lips touched in a sweetly searing caress he entered her, filling her with his passion. For a moment he rested upon her thighs enjoying the embrace, and then he began to move upon her, slowly at first, then faster in tempo. His heart was pounding with his excitement, and he thought that if he died in that very moment he should count himself fortunate.

How could he do this to her? Aidan’s mind blurrily questioned. How could this marvelous man to whom she was married make her feel so incredibly wonderful? Her feelings were a jumble of confusion. She wanted him to go on forever, and yet at the same time the passion he aroused in her made her want to bite and claw him. She ran her nails lightly down his long, hard back, and he growled with pleasure in her ear, “Sweet! Sweet!”

She could feel herself losing control as she was swept away into a sea of blinding desire. She soared higher and higher like a hawk riding the whorls of the wind. Deeper and deeper he thrust into her, and all she felt was the rapture he offered her, not the rough straws that mottled her bottom with little scratch marks. Then came the explosion, and she could feel her body letting down its libation of sweetness, crowning the throbbing ruby head of his great manhood, and drawing from it an answering tribute. The horses in the stable shifted nervously as both Conn and Aidan cried out their pleasure, and he fell slowly upon her breasts with a final groan.

They lay that way upon the pile of hay for several delicious minutes, and then Aidan said, “Conn, get off me! ’Tis well past dawn now, and the stablemen will be coming from the kitchens to attend to their duties ere long. Would ye have them see their master playing the rutting stallion to their mistress’ mare in season?”

He chuckled with a contented sound. “Nay, sweeting. ’Tis difficult to keep order amongst the servants if they suspect yer as human as they themselves.” He rolled off her, and pulled her skirts down, next seeing to his own dishabille. “Is that how ye see yerself, Aidan? A mare in season?”

She sat up, and relacing her chemise, buttoned her shirt back up. “I must be,” she answered, “for I am certainly shamelessly hot to be possessed by ye, my husband.”

He reached over, and pulled several wisps of straw from her glorious hair. Then leaning down he picked up her green silk riband which had come undone in their tussle, and handed it to her. “I find, madame, that I am equally hot to possess ye,” he said with a smile, and then standing he drew her up with him. Turning her to face him he kissed her slowly and lingeringly, his mouth working gently and carefully across the sensuousness of her lips.

With a soft sigh she slid her arms about his neck. The tip of her velvety tongue insinuated itself into his mouth, seeking out his tongue. Finding it she stroked it with her own, sending a stab of desire through him once again. Something wonderful had happened, he thought. By the admission of their love for one another all barriers had fallen between them. He had never known her so wonderfully compliant although she had never denied him. Still, it was different now, and he liked it. Their kisses became deeper, more passionate, and suddenly by a supreme effort Conn broke off the embrace.

Aidan pouted. “My lord!” she protested.

“I hear the stablemen,” he said with a groan, “but did I not, Aidan, my wife, I should tumble ye right back in that pile of hay again.”

“Rather ye should think to the sight of yer condition, my lord,” she teased him and reaching out stroked the bulge beneath his trunk hose which despite the contours of his clothing was most visible.

“Damn!” he grumbled, and she giggled as she slipped back into her horse’s stall, and pretended she was brushing down the animal as the stable doors opened, and several stablemen noisily entered.

“M’lady!” They stopped.

“Good morning, Haig,” Aidan said to the head stableman, and she nodded pleasantly to the others. “My lord and I have just come in, and finding no one about unsaddled our mounts ourselves. We’ll leave the animals to ye now. I wish them given a ration of oats in honor of May Day.” Then with a gracious smile Aidan took her husband’s arm, and swept from the stables.

They were halfway across the stableyard when a giggle escaped her, and Conn began to laugh himself. “What a courtier ye would make, sweeting.”

“I intend to go back to court,” she surprised him.

“Ye do?”

“At least once,” she said mischievously, “when I am first with child so I may preen and lord it over all those females who so delighted in chasing ye. Would ye mind?”

“Nay.” He grinned at her. “I will enjoy showing ye off in proper court clothing, with yer pretty titties showing, just daring enough to make the gentlemen realize what they lost by losing ye.”

“Hah! Ye never noticed me yerself, Conn St. Michael,” she huffed.

“Ah, but I did, sweeting. On Twelfth Night when I kissed ye that first time, and yer lips were so incredibly sweet. For a moment I couldn’t imagine what a girl like ye was doing at court.”

“But in the next minute yer mind strayed to one of those jades ye were forever prodding with yer lance,” she accused.

“True,” he admitted blandly, and ducked the blow she aimed at him with a laugh. “Yer jealous!” he exulted.

“Of every woman ye’ve ever known,” she admitted ruefully.

They had reached the house, but before they entered he caught her to him, and hugged her. “I’ll never stray from yer side, sweeting. That I promise ye. Ours, I believe, is a love for all time.” Then he kissed her softly. “Now, sweeting, I’m ravenous for food first, and then yer sweet self once again! Shall we spend the day abed?”

But when Conn and Aidan reached the house, they discovered a visitor waiting. Beal hurried forward to greet them. “There’s a gentleman waiting in the Great Hall, m’lord,” he said. “He claims to be m’lady’s cousin.”

Aidan looked confused. “I don’t have any cousins,” she said. “My father was an only child.”

“But yer mother wasn’t,” said Conn.

“A cousin from Ireland? But I don’t even know my mother’s family.”

“The gentleman does have the lilt of Ireland in his voice, m’lady,” Beal volunteered.

They hurried into the house, and seeing them coming toward him Cavan FitzGerald arose from his seat by the fireplace, but before he might speak Conn said, “I am Lord Bliss, and ye are?” Conn’s eyes swept over the man who was as tall as he but a trifle thicker set. He did not like the look of him though he knew not why. Perhaps it was his light blue eyes that never quite met his gaze.

“Cavan FitzGerald, my lord,” came the reply, and then Cavan swiftly turned to Aidan. “And ye’ll be little Aidan, my darling Bevin’s child. I bring ye greetings from yer grandfather, Rogan FitzGerald, Aidan.”

“Is my grandsire still alive?” she replied. “We heard nothing after my mother’s death.”

“The old man cannot write,” said Cavan. “He used to have my father do it for him, and then when he died he recruited the new priest.”

“Ye will forgive me, Master FitzGerald, but I know little of my mother’s family, and I cannot place ye at all.”

Cavan FitzGerald smiled broadly but the smile did not light his eyes, Conn noted. “Of course, yer confused, little Aidan, and I don’t blame ye. Doubtless yer English father preferred ye forget yer Irish relations.”

“Not at all, sir,” said Aidan frostily. “ ’Twas rather a case of my Irish relations not seeming to want anything to do with my mother once she wed with my father. They were happy enough to have him take a dowryless girl, but in all the years my parents were wed though my mother wrote her father faithfully, he wrote her but twice, and both times to ask for money.”

Cavan recovered his error in judgment quickly. “Aye, little Aidan, they can be hard people, the FitzGeralds, but Ireland is a harsh land. Ye ask my place within the family, and so I shall tell ye. Yer grandfather had a brother many years his junior. His name was Barra, and he was a priest. I am his bastard, the child of his hearthmate who died shortly after my birth. I was raised by yer grandmother, Ceara, of the sainted memory. I grew up in my uncle’s house, and have spent all of my life there.”

“What brings ye to England then?” demanded Conn.

“Uncle Rogan’s steward is soon to be retired to his cottage. He’s almost as old as Rogan FitzGerald himself. I am to replace him. I have been trained all my life to take his place, but my uncle fears if he dies before I can, his eldest son, my cousin Eamon, will not give me my living. I’ve come to England to see how yer estates are run here. Perhaps, my lord, ye’d be so kind as to allow yer own steward to show me about.”

“Of course,” said Conn coolly.

“And he should see
Queen’s Malvern,
too,” chimed in Aidan, “and perhaps he can go down to Devon and see Robin’s home also. We could arrange that, couldn’t we, Conn?”

“I wouldn’t want to be an imposition, my lord,” Cavan said quickly seeing Conn about to refuse, and cleverly preventing it.

“I would never consider any member of Aidan’s mother’s family an imposition,” Conn replied dryly, “but do ye want to go as far south as Devon, Master FitzGerald?”

“Anything I can learn that will help me to aid and modernize my Uncle Rogan’s estates will be all to the good. I owe him a great debt for taking me in, and raising me. All Irishmen are not as lucky as ye are, my lord.”

“Aye,” said Aidan innocently, “Conn has marvelous luck,” then seeing her husband’s frown she continued, “but how I prattle on, cousin. I must see Erwina about feeding ye for I’ve not a doubt yer hungry. Ye must see the rest of
Pearroc Royal,
and then in a few days we’ll visit Conn’s sister’s home.”

“She lives nearby?” Cavan FitzGerald asked.

“Just a few miles across the fields. ’Tis called
Queen’s Malvern
, and ’tis Lady de Marisco’s son, the Earl of Lynmouth’s estate that ye’ll visit in Devon.”

“Lady de Marisco?”

“Conn’s sister.”

“She has a son who is an English earl?”

“Oh yes! Robin’s family stands very high with her majesty. His father was a great favorite of the queen, and young Robin is her favorite page, although he will soon be going to France to the university. That is something he wants very much, and his older brothers have both gone. They are a very close family.”

Cavan FitzGerald digested this piece of information with interest. He didn’t like the idea of Aidan being so attached to Conn’s family. He was beginning to realize that although he might be able to carry out part of the Spanish plot, he might not be able to succeed completely. If, however, he was to gain Aidan’s riches for himself, he would have to destroy Conn, and his O’Malley brothers. The sister with her highly placed English son might not be so easy, and was, he decided, not worth the trouble. She would be unable to save her brothers for she certainly would have no influence being a woman, and there would be no one to take revenge upon Cavan FitzGerald, or indeed even uncover the plot. Little Aidan was pretty enough although he had seen prettier, and Bevin had certainly been a great beauty; but in the dark a warm cunt was a warm cunt no matter the face.

He smiled at the woman he intended to make his wife. “Ye remind me of yer mother,” he said warmly.