Betrayal (Book 2: Time Enough to Love) (6 page)

Anger flooded her mouth with a sickening metallic taste. This was where her duty now lay. She had to submit to Thomas as her husband, before all these people. Even though he had promised not to force her, he would need to claim her or else suffer ridicule at the hands of the courtiers. Why had he not told her the truth?

She looked up to find him engaged in some rude jest with his friends, likely at her expense. One more grievance to lay against him. Trying to ignore them, she willed herself to control her anger. Then a small movement drew her attention to Lady Carlyle, standing almost beside Thomas. Her eyes, riveted to him, revealed a hunger as deep as his had been moments before when he beheld Alyse. She remembered Thomas paying court to Lady Carlyle in the joust procession and at the banquet. Were there other, more intimate times as well? The woman’s actions toward Alyse tonight suddenly made perfect sense. Simple jealousy had been behind her disrespect.

Astonishment at the one revelation gave way to another: her pulse pounded with the selfsame jealousy. A possessiveness she had not expected reared its head and seized her.

He was her husband now. Hers alone.

With a brief glare at the woman she now deemed her adversary, Alyse turned her gaze to her bridegroom and steeled herself. Time to bed the bride.

* * * *

“We certainly see you stand ready for this joust, Lord Braeton.” Sir Robert Spencer laughed and nudged Patrick Sullivan.

“Wield your weapon well, Thomas!” Roger Delaney shouted from the corner, where he had withdrawn with Lady Catherine.

Thomas broadened his grin to a leer.

Give them a show so they will believe what they will not see
.

“Doubt it not, gentles. My bride will feel its sting ere long. I know this business well, as many have reason to know.”

A small gasp, and from the corner of his eye he saw Lady Carlyle step back and turn away.

Beg pardon, Ysabel
.

Their dalliance had lasted longer than expected, though the passion had burned bright throughout. Even so, they were done. She had to find another lover or return to her husband. If he chose to stray now, he would be more discreet about it, for Alyse’s sake.

Alyse. She most likely cursed him for a liar. He could calm her fears when they were abed, but for now he had to play his part eagerly. Thank God the sight of her in that wisp of a garment had inflamed him mightily. Most of these people would believe he would be inside her the moment the curtains were drawn. So much the better. No doubt Alyse thought the same.

Thomas glanced at his wife, expecting a glaze of terror—and instead looked into eyes filled with a ferocity he had never beheld there before. They shifted back and forth from him to the retreating figure of Lady Carlyle. So the seeds of jealousy had taken root. A new development. Mayhap this night would end in true marriage rather than counterfeit.

“Are you prepared, wife?” He ran his hot gaze over the proud form before him.

“I am, my lord.” Her calm voice held only a touch of nervousness. She had recovered well from the sight of his nudity. Given the circumstances, a truly remarkable woman.

“Then let us proceed.”

The male courtiers surged forward, grabbed him, and tossed him onto the petal-strewn sheets. The women also seized Alyse and pushed her toward the far side of the bed. They lifted her onto the mattress, pressed her back against the array of pillows, and carefully arranged her hair to drape around her breasts. At long last, they drew the sheet up over the couple.

When they had finished, Thomas had to bite back a laugh. His shaft had tented the sheet, and judging by Alyse’s wide, staring eyes, and a subtle movement toward the edge of the mattress, the sight thoroughly appalled her.

Father Andrew, one of the chapel priests, stepped forward, swinging a censer, and intoned, “Lord, bless this bed that the union of this man and this woman may be fruitful under Your blessed sight.
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, Amen
.”

As the priest stepped back, Lady Maurya and Lady Anne came forward to pull the curtains around the bed. The heavy material cocooned them in darkness with the heavy smell of incense, providing a modicum of privacy at last.

Thomas smiled into the shadows. The bedding had finally begun.

Thomas turned to Alyse and reached out into the darkness beside him. He needed to bring her closer so he could whisper instructions to her. His questing hand met the smooth silk of that tempting chemise. He grasped her firmly to pull her toward him.

At his touch, she gasped aloud, tapering off into a low moan. Excited voices sounded in the chamber, along with tittering laughter and deep-throated chuckles. He cursed under his breath when the shape of her flesh in his hand revealed he had taken hold of her breast. Her nipple peaked into his palm, and he snatched his hand back, though that was the last thing he wanted to do. The sight of her in that gossamer shift and the feel of her now urged him to take what was his and repair the damage later. His cock had been demanding attention since he entered the room. Indeed, ’twas becoming painful to simply lie here next to this beautiful woman without seeking the solace of her warm sheath. Mayhap if he asked…

“Alyse?” He pitched his voice low, hoping none but she could hear.

A whimper from the other side of the bed tugged at his heart.

“Shh, Alyse, come here. I would speak a word for your ear only.” Thomas held his breath then released it when the mattress dipped toward him.

“What—”

“Shh. Quiet!”

Her normal voice had sounded loudly in the darkness. The listeners outside must have heard, for their chatter increased, and the floor creaked as someone moved closer to the bed.

Thomas pulled her toward him, positioned his mouth next to her ear. “If you do not want them to hear what we say, you must lower your voice to the barest whisper. Like this. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and he relaxed against the pillow. “Why did you not tell me about the bedding? Why make that promise when you knew you could not keep it?”

Amazing how much vehemence she could pack into a whisper.

“I did not know you were unfamiliar with the bedding ceremony. I assumed you had attended other ladies before.” He managed a hint of reproach. ’Twas not his fault the girl had not been informed.

“But you knew about it, Thomas.”

“Aye, I did.”

“So you knew this would happen. That we would be put in this bed and made to…”

The embarrassment in her voice brought to mind the image of her cheeks, now likely as scarlet as her gown had been. ’Sblood. The girl was no innocent maid.

“Yes, ’tis the usual course of things. ’Tis not looked on as shameful, but as a validation of the wedding vows.” He paused, ran his fingers along the length of her jaw. “So you do not wish to lie with me tonight?”

She sniffed. “What choice do I have?”

“The choice will always be yours, Alyse. I vowed not to force you, and I never break my vows.”

In the silence that ensued, he continued to stroke her face, her hair. He ran his hand down her arm, and she shivered. ’Twould be her choice, but he would do his best to help the decision along.

“And if I choose nay?” The whisper was so light he scarcely heard her.

He sighed and withdrew his hand. “Then we shall counterfeit the deed.”

“Counterfeit?”

“Aye. You must do exactly what I bid you do or say, no matter if you find it odd or…embarrassing, in order to make the courtiers believe we have consummated our marriage. Do you understand?”

“Aye.” She sounded doubtful.

Best to make sure. “Then your choice is nay?”

The long pause raised his hopes to a pinnacle he knew to be false. Her flicker of jealousy toward Ysabel would not have erased her loyalty to Geoffrey so soon. So when her “aye” came, soft but sure, he had already begun to contrive their performance.

“Then come, remove your gown and lie here on your back.”

“Remove the gown?” The alarm in her voice made him envision her clutching the garment to her.

“’Twould only be in our way. And I cannot see you in the darkness.”

The bed rustled as she sat up. A moment, and she slid over until she pressed her smooth thigh against him. His shaft bobbed up, ready and willing. ’Twould be a nuisance for a while, but that could not be helped.

“I am going to touch you and caress you, as I would if we were going to lie together. Be not afraid to make noise. ’Twill make the counterfeit more convincing.” He paused, uncertain if his next words were wise. They might make matters worse. “If it will help, pretend that I am Geoffrey.”

She stiffened and gave a little cry. Thomas cursed himself but knew there was nothing else he could do. At least she would be more used to him when they finally did this in earnest. He settled next to her, pressing his body against the warm, naked flesh, not trying to disguise his rock-hard shaft. Her reaction to that should be convincing.

He began by boldly stroking her arm, continuing down over her hip. She trembled but made no protest. Encouraged, he found her face and dropped kisses on her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. She remained still, her soft breathing the only sound. They had been too quiet for too long. Time to begin.

“I am going to kiss you, Alyse,” he whispered in her ear then sucked on her earlobe. She moaned and wriggled. Good. “Do that a bit louder, sweet. And when I kiss you as I did the day we were betrothed, moan even louder in your throat. Can you do that?”

“Uhh.” Loud and guttural. Excellent. Rustlings beyond the curtain increased.

Thomas seized her lips, pressing them open easily. He slipped his tongue inside the warm depths, and moaned along with her. Damn, but she was sweet. His groan deepened as his cock strained toward her, bumping into her hip insistently. Oh, but this would be true torture soon.

He skimmed his hand over her breast and tweaked the nipple, drawing a loud gasp.

“Thomas!” The outrage in her voice would have brought a laugh from him had his need not grown so great. But it worked on the waiting courtiers, for their whisperings increased. So now ’twas time to finish the deed.

He rose over top of her, his weight carried on his elbows, his length pressing her down. Placing his lips next to her ear, but speaking in a normal voice, he announced, “Do not fret, sweet. ’Twill hurt but a moment.”

Beneath him, Alyse gasped. “But, Thomas—”

He strained forward and bit her on the shoulder.

“Thomas!” Alyse’s shriek sounded shrilly in the darkness.

He clamped his hand over her mouth and whispered, “Shh.”

The courtiers burst forth with clapping, congratulations, and laughter. Some of the men shouted encouragement to him, and he chuckled, though did not reply.

When he slid his fingers away from her mouth, she lay still a moment then asked, “Is it over now?”

He peered down at her, though he could not see her face. “Not yet.” He sighed and began to rub his cock against her belly. Not the best to be hoped for on a wedding night, but it would have to serve.

“You may remember the night of the banquet. ’Twas not done in one stroke, I think.” She stilled beneath him, though he continued to slide against her exquisite flesh. “I need to spill my seed, both for proof on the sheets and for my own ends.” He nuzzled her neck. “As you can feel, you have set my passions aflame, wife, and though ’tis nay you say tonight, ’twill not always be so. I will stand ready whenever you say aye.”

She slipped her hands around his neck, whispered, “Thank you, Thomas,” and kissed him.

The unexpected caress, coupled with his strong thrusts, sent him over the edge. He cried out as he spilled himself, determined to the last to convince the witnesses their marriage was truly consummated. He rolled off her and lay panting, listening to the applause he damn well deserved.

Thomas lay there a moment then the curtains stirred and a light appeared. Alyse squeaked and dove beneath the sheet.

Patrick Sullivan shoved a goblet of wine into Thomas’s hand. He took it and drank deeply. When he had drained the cup, he wiped his mouth and proclaimed loudly, “Aye, marriage is thirsty work. Best leave a bottle or two of this good Bordeaux, Patrick, lest I find myself with a mighty thirst come morning.”

“Do you think two bottles will be enough then, Thomas?”

The courtiers laughed and several began to drift out of the chamber. Thank Christ.

Thomas grinned at his friend. “Leave three for good measure.” He handed him the goblet back, and the young man chuckled and withdrew, plunging him into darkness once more. He eased himself back onto the mattress and lay listening.

“Thomas?” Alyse’s quiet voice sounded loud in the mounting silence.

“Aye, my sweet?”

“What are we going to do about—”

“Shh.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it to caution her.

They waited until the silence was complete then Thomas poked his head out of the curtains. One candle shone on the table amid bowls of roses and the three bottles of wine. He smiled at that then slid to the floor and went in search of the pitcher and washing water. After cleaning himself, he performed the same service for Alyse, taking the candle to light his way. She lay relaxed on the pillows and looked serenely at him as he washed her. No blushes rose to protest the sight of her nudity. Apparently, progress had been made.

“Thank you, Thomas.”

“There is no service I would not do for you, my lady.” He bowed low, hoping to coax a smile from her.

She sat up, shooting a hand out to capture his. “What can we do about the sheets? They have your seed, but not my blood.”

He patted her hand then strode to the mantelpiece. He searched until he found the implement he sought and brought it back to the bed.

“Open your legs, my sweet.” At her astonished look he laughed, took the small paring knife, used to trim candlewicks, in one hand and her finger with his ring upon it in the other. With a swift cut, blood welled up on the pad. Thomas smeared the dark red stain between her legs, squeezed the finger again, and added more to the sheet.

“Now we can truthfully say ’tis your blood upon the sheets and none other.”

She smiled and patted the mattress beside her. “Come to bed, husband. It has been a strange night.”

He extinguished the candle and climbed into bed. He settled himself next to her and, when she did not flinch from his touch, nestled her head upon his breast. “’Tis not over yet.”