him until her breasts were level with his face. He then leaned forward and closed his lips
around the nipple he had just touched.
Oh. Emmas eyes widened briefly, then squinted closed. Her husband was feasting off her
like the veriest baby, seeming to be almost trying to make a meal of her as he suckled,
nipped, and tugged at first one nipple, then the other. Twas the oddest thing Emma had
ever heard of a body doing... and she liked it. What had been a tingly sensation that
zipped through her like a firefly before, now became a swell of torrid flame that licked
at her insides, scorching her throughout and curling her toes.
Head dropping backward, she cried out and clutched at his shoulders for purchase as wave
after wave of sensation surged through her. Emma hardly noticed when he walked to the
raised bed and set her on it on her knees so that he no longer needed to hold her. Her
mind was full of new demands and desires she did not understand. She gave up all attempt
to unravel those thoughts, however, when his newly freed hands began traveling, for the
senses they awoke would not be ignored.
She shuddered as his warm palms rose to cup her breasts, holding them and teasing them by
turn as he feasted from first one, then the other. She moaned when he drew one hand away
to skim it across her trembling belly before sliding it around to her behind and pulling
her forward to cuddle his member. A whole new fire began then, and Emma cried out in
response. Her hands moved instinctively to tangle in his hair. Clutching his head closer
to the breast he attended, she trembled as his other hand suddenly dropped, grazing across
her hip before feathering down her outer leg. But she jerked in his arms slightly, a gasp
of startled protest on her lips, when that hand started up her inner thigh.
Catching the objection with his own lips, Amaury startled her again by sliding his tongue
into her open mouth. For a moment, Emma wasnt sure what was occurring. She had never been
kissed like this before. But then the fire that had been numbed by her surprise burst back
to life with a vengeance, threatening to consume her as he lured her own tongue into an
oddly intimate dance. She was suddenly filled with a hunger she had no idea how to sate.
Clenching her fingers in his hair, she moaned wildly against his mouth, her tongue quickly
becoming as demanding as his own as she pressed her body closer. Some part of her seemed
determined to meld her body into his.
She was pushing herself so close and pulling him so tight, it almost hurt where their
bodies were pressed together, and still she felt hollow inside. An emptiness she did not
understand and could not explain seemed to cry out from the very depths of her belly,
aching in places she had not known could ache. It was almost a relief when his hand
finished moving upward and cupped her womanhood... almost. Emma sobbed and ripped her
mouth away, a wail of confusion, despair, joy, and pleading torn from her lips as he slid
his fingers between the curls to touch her core, his own lips slipping to her neck to
suckle and nip the sensitive flesh there as he caressed her.
Emma whimpered as the fever built within her. Her body was trembling like the quiver of
her bow from tension as she strained toward something she both feared and needed. She felt
as if she was about to explode, as though she very well might die if she did not reach
what she was clutching at. She dug her nails into her husbands back in frustration as her
goal hovered stubbornly just outside reach of her terrified grasp, and Amaury nipped at
her ear lightly in revenge, even as he increased the speed of his hand against her slick
skin.
Just when Emma felt sure she would shatter into pieces in his arms, the control Amaury had
been clutching at so desperately snapped and he withdrew his hands to push her back. She
felt the bed embracing her. Then her husband came down on top of her as he had on their
wedding night, his mouth taking hers savagely once more as he plunged into her.
Emmas eyes flew open in shock at this intrusion. She recognized it at once as the same
that had occurred on her wedding night. Only this time there was no pain, just unbearable
pleasure as he moved against her. His body enclosed in hers and wrapped around her, he
drove her back to the pinnacle she had stood on before he had pushed her back on the bed.
Then, with one last forceful plunge and a shout of success as he reached his own heights,
Amaury shoved her off the world to float in the stars as she burst into a thousand sparks
of light.
Emma opened her eyes slowly. Amaury had covered her while she slept. Partially. The
bedclothes reached just past her waist, leaving her upper body bare and revealing the
small marks left behind by his ardor. A flush covered her cheeks as she recalled just how
she had gained those marks and she smiled wryly as she thought of the ale and potions she
had taken to ease the pain of joining.
What do you smile at wife?
Glancing to the side quickly, Emma blushed anew as she saw her husband lying on his side
watching her. She wondered briefly how long he had lain there staring at her as she slept,
then shrugged as she admitted, I was thinking I now understand why some women have so many
children.
A purely male smile curving his lips, Amaury chuckled deep in his chest, his hand moving
to cup the breast nearest him. Emmas body responded at once, her nipple growing hard and
alert before he covered it with his mouth, nipping at it teasingly, then suckling it by
turn. He didnt bother to hide the chuckle of satisfaction that whispered across her skin
when she shifted restlessly beneath his attention and arched into his caress.
You like my touch.
Emmas ardor cooled slightly at the arrogance in his tone, her pride prickling. Aye, she
said calmly after a moments thought, then added silkily, Tis sorry I am that my first
husband could not bring himself to the marriage bed. Think of all the pleasure I have
missed.
Amaury stilled at once, his head lifting to spear her with a look before she could hide
the satisfaction in her face. Eyes slitting slightly, he watched her closely as he
continued to palm her breast, then as quick as a hawk, his hand dipped down between her
legs and he plunged a finger into her tight opening.
Emma gasped and squeezed her legs closed, her hands moving to push his away, but he would
not be denied. With cool deliberation, he pushed his finger in and out, his thumb rubbing
the nubbin where all sensation seemed to be centered. Closing her eyes, she tried to fight
the feelings swelling up inside her, but it was impossible. Giving in, she cried out and
arched into his touch.
Think you Fulk would have made you feel like this?
N-noooo. Oh, please, Emma begged, reaching to clutch at his arm, groaning and arching
higher when his thumb began to massage her faster.
Amaury watched his wife with satisfaction for a moment, taking in the fire in her eyes and
passions flush on her cheek as she made little gasping sounds and writhed beneath his
touch, but then a thought raised some discontent in him.
Ladies were not supposed to enjoy the bedding.
Plunging his finger deeper, Amaury watched her buck against the action and began to frown.
Gods truth, she wasnt behaving like a lady at all, let alone a Duchess, he thought with
disgruntlement. Her head was twisting frantically, her legs spread on the bed, knees drawn
up slightly and heels digging deep as she pushed her hips upward seeking the release he
offered.
His frown turned to a scowl when she began moaning and whimpering. Then he stopped
touching her altogether and lay back on the bed to scowl at the drapings above them.
Emma stiffened, her eyes shooting open at his withdrawal. Her body was heavy and achy with
need as she took in his grim expression. For a moment she did not know what to do, then
her gaze dropped to his oddity. He was as stiff as a Maypole. Deciding he was teasing her
for her taunt about her first husband, Emma caught him unawares by rolling on top of him.
It made perfect sense to her. After all, if the horse would not come to the rider, the
rider must go mount the horse, she thought with determination, pushing herself to sit
astride his hips.
Amaury no longer looked so grim. Instead, he quite suddenly looked dismayed. Emma took a
moment to ponder that, then rubbed herself instinctively against his member.
What do you? he asked, looking almost scandalized. His hands came up to clasp her waist to
lift her away, but Emma rubbed against him again and he stilled, clasping her, but not
moving her away as his expression tightened.
Grunting her satisfaction, Emma moved against him again, her hands braced on his chest as
she pleasured herself against the base of his staff. Amaury lay as still as death for a
while, struggling to control his desires enough to order her off of him, but it seemed an
impossible feat. He simply could not manage it. Instead of easing, his ardor was mounting
by the moment. Still, he held out until he was so roused it hurt, then lifted and shifted
his little wife so that she came down hard on his manhood before rolling her onto her back
once more and taking over again.
Emma was relieved to leave him to it, for she found it hard to keep to a rhythm as he did
and found that rather than increase her own pleasure she had dampened it somewhat. She was
just beginning to think she had ruined everything with her inept rumblings, when he
suddenly reached a hand down between them to stimulate her again.
Amaury grunted as his wife began moaning and crying again. For a few moments there she had
gone still and silent, her expression showing uncertainty and disappointment. Oddly
enough, rather than please him, that had seemed to affect his own pleasure, reducing it a
great deal. Against his own better instincts, he had then begun to stimulate her again.
Now she was bucking and sobbing his name like he was God. It made him feel damn good...
and it was just the trick for his flagging desires. At this rate, he could ride her all
night, he thought and silently thanked a fool named Fulk.
Good morning, my lords. You both look fit on this fine day.
Blake couldnt help but return Emmas bright smile as she breezed by on her way to the
kitchens. She appears in good cheer this morn.
Aye, Amaury muttered glumly. Blakes eyebrows rose as he watched him slam his tankard down
on the table. Is aught amiss?
Nay. He raised his tankard, slammed it down again, then suddenly turned to his friend. Our
wedding night was rushed and painful for her.
Blakes, eyebrows rose, but he nodded solemnly.
There was much pressure.
Aye, Amaury growled, swilling some more ale before punishing the table with his mug once
more. I left off approaching her after that because of it. I thought to give her time to
adjust and to allow the memory of the ordeal to fade.
Hmm. Blake was almost afraid to speak and inadvertently bring an end to this conversation.
It was becoming most interesting.
Then last night... Amaury hesitated and frowned.
Ah, Blake murmured delicately with a nod, allowing a moment to pass before glancing again
at his friend. I take it by her demeanor today that it could be considered a success?
Amaury grimaced. She has been smiling ever since. Tis indecent.
Blake burst out laughing at the rancor in his friends voice, then slapped him on the back.
Truly, friend, I wish I had your problems. This fine estate. No parents or in-laws to
interfere... well, except for Lord Rolfe, of course. And a wife who enjoys bedding you.
Tis a sin for any man to be so lucky.
Amaury gave a disgruntled shrug. But ladies are not supposed to enjoy the bedding, he
complained, and Blake sighed.
Do you not enjoy her?
Amaury peered at him as though he thought he were mad.
And does her pleasure take away from yours? Blake asked patiently, smiling slightly at the
gleam that suddenly entered his friends eyes.
Nay. In truth it fires me up. Then there is naught to worry about, he said simply. Amaury
glowered again. But ladies are not supposed to enjoy
Aye, aye, Blake said impatiently. I have heard the priests claims that ladies forbear and
all that. But priests are just men, and men have been wrong afore. Are you going to sit
about complaining about this, or enjoy your good fortune?
Both, I think, he admitted honestly, and Blake rolled his eyes.
Then complain to someone else. I do not have the time to listen to the whining of someone
too dull- headed to count his blessings, he said dryly, turning back to his meal.
Amaury glared at him for a moment, then turned irritably back to his own meal.
My lady?
Aye, Sebert? Emma continued stirring the pot of steaming liquid she had set over the fire.
She was making some more of the damiana concoction for her husband. It seemed to her to be
in everyones best interests to keep his ardor hot until they conceived. The king was
counting on her to protect him from Bertrand and his grasping mother. Besides, after last
night and learning what the joining was truly all about, Emma found she did not mind it a
bit.
My lady?
Emma glanced at her steward, concern covering her face. He looked vexed. Sebert very
rarely looked vexed. He was usually as placid as a cow.
There is a... man... in the hall, he told her grimly, injecting the word man with an odd
distaste.
Emma straightened slowly, wiping her hands on a cloth. A man?
Seberts mouth worked briefly, then he blurted out, A pompous little peacock named Monsieur
de Lascey. Hes sashaying about the Great Hall as though he owned the place. He says Lord
Rolfe sent him.
The tailor! Emmas hand flew to her chest in dismay. She had quite forgotten all about
asking her cousin to send her a tailor to have clothes made for the trip to court.
Lifting her pot off the fire until she could return to it, she led the way out into the
Great Hall, eyebrows rising when she spotted the little man posed in front of the
fireplace. Posed was the only word for it. She suspected he was trying for a decidedly
superior look as he leaned an elbow on the stone wall around the fireplace, looking down
his nose at the Great Hall, its contents, and the two serving women clearing away
breakfast in their black garb.
Emma tried not to wince at her servants clothing. It was evidence of her distress at the
time, but blacking everything in the castle seemed foolish even to her now that she had
gotten past her temporary madness. She could only wonder that her servants had been good
enough to go along with her actions without a single word of protest.
Perhaps they had believed her mad and decided to humor her, she thought with a sigh as de
Lascey turned his emaciated face to her and peered down his sliver- thin nose in distaste
at her own black gown.
Monsieur de Lascey. How good of you to come. Despite her irritation with his attitude,
Emma managed to force some welcome into her voice.
His disdain did not slip a bit as he accepted her hand in a limp grip of his own. Derien.
Your coosin said zat you would make eet worth my while, he drawled in an odd French accent.
Why, of course, Emma said stiltedly. I realize tis an imposition to make you travel all
this way, and I shall reward you accordingly.
Managing a nod and a snooty sniff at the same moment, de Lascey returned to his pose,
gazing into the fire as he announced, I shall need zee three rooms. One for zee fittings.
One for zee fabrique and one
pour moi. My servants will sleep in zee ozer deux rooms.
Servants? Emma raised an eyebrow, then turned as the Great Hall door burst open and at
least half-a-dozen women came clamoring in, arms loaded with rolls of fabric. It seemed
Rolfe had made it clear that she would be needing a great deal of clothes made in a rather
short time. Sebert?
Aye, my lady?
See Monsieur de Lascey and his workers to Lord Rolfes room, the room Lord Fulk used when
he was here, and the room in between, she instructed, then excused herself and retreated
to the kitchen once more.
Ten minutes later, Sebert was at her side again. My lady?
One glance at his face was enough to make her set the pot of damiana aside and give her
full attention to him. Emma did not think she had ever seen him quite so put out.
The peacock is demanding your presence, Sebert informed her grimly.
She felt herself stiffen at those words. Demanding?
Aye. He nodded slowly, then added through gritted teeth, At once.
Muttering under her breath, Emma started for the door, but paused to step out of the way
as it swung open to allow four of de Lasceys female workers to enter.
Apologies, my lady. The women hurried out of the way at once when they saw her about to
leave. Mister de Lascey said we might come fetch a drink. Twas a long trip and
Aye, of course, Emma interrupted with a smile, then glanced at Sebert.
I will see to it, my lady, he assured her at once, not even bothering to glance away from
the woman who had spoken.
Emmas eyebrows rose slightly at his expression. It seemed he was quite taken with the
seamstress, Emma realized suddenly, noting for the first time that her steward was
actually a quite attractive man for his age. He was always so grave and diligent about his
duties that she had never really paid attention to his looks before. Now, seeing the shy
smile on the seamstresss face, she realized that he actually cut quite a dashing figure in
his solemn clothes.
Shaking her head slightly, she stepped past the women and crossed the Great Hall toward
the stairs. No doubt the pompous little popinjay wanted to start fittings right away. She
really could not blame him for that. There were a lot of clothes to be made in a very
short time. However, she suspected his attitude would not have improved in the short time
since his arrival and she would have a trying few hours ahead of her.
Emma was not mistaken.
In the two hours she spent cooped up in the small bedchamber designated as the fitting
room, she found herself driven to the point of contemplating the benefits of murder
several times. None of the fabrics she favored were quite right according to de Lascey,
nor were the styles she chose. As for her figure, while
he had no complaint with her waist and hips, he fretted endlessly over her chest. It was
not the fashion to be so buxom, he kept saying. Her boosums would ruin any design he chose
to grace her with. Zey would have to be bound.