He let the feel of her hand on his shoulder guide him. The first time he captured her mouth with his and kissed her firmly, her hand pushed against his shoulder. He softened his kisses, teasing her until she arched unconsciously against him and her fingers dug into his shoulder, pulling him closer. He kissed her openmouthed until she started to make little noises that sounded suspiciously like moans. He stored up the memory to tease her with later when they weren’t so occupied with more important matters. And when he thought she was completely absorbed, he kissed her deeply.
She choked so hard that he had to sit her up and pound on her back to stop her coughing.
“Merciful saints above!” she gasped. “Not so hard!”
Christopher rubbed her back until she regained her breath; he fought the urge to hang his head and laugh in despair. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and smiled to himself. Once Gillian was breathing normally, he lifted his head and kissed her cheek.
“Better now?”
“Aye,” she managed.
“Ready to attempt it again?”
She shivered. “Aye.”
Her voice was decidedly hoarse. Christopher laid her back down and leaned over her. He smiled as he trailed his fingers over her face again, just to make sure she wasn’t weeping.
“I didn’t frighten you, did I?”
“Christopher,” she groaned, turning her face toward his arm, obviously trying to hide.
Christopher turned her face gently to him. Gillian was stiff in his arms and he knew she was waiting for him to invade her mouth again.
“Trust me,” he said. “Rest easy, Gill. I won’t hurt you.”
“Will I know before you do that again?”
“You’ll know,” he promised.
He kept his word. He kissed her lightly, as before, then more firmly until she was kissing him back. And then very slowly and very deliberately, he kissed her fully. He felt the shock of pleasure all the way down to his toes. Gillian moaned, but she didn’t stiffen. She did, however, start to tremble. Christopher fumbled for the blanket on the chair behind him, then tossed the blanket over her with one hand while he pulled her close with the other, trying to warm her.
“I’m not cold,” she gasped.
“You’re frightened.”
“Not that either.”
Christopher smiled. “I see.”
“Nay, I don’t think you do . . .”
He covered her mouth and cut off her words. She didn’t think he understood, but indeed he did. He loved Gillian with his mouth, putting as much passion into his kiss as he could. He was more than surprised to receive like measure in return. Gillian kept nothing from him, giving him whatever he demanded from her, then making demands of her own. When he would have lifted his head to breathe, she tightened her hand in his hair and kept him where he was. He smiled against her mouth and she tugged sharply on a fistful of his long locks. Christopher felt like a youth, caught up in desire he half feared he couldn’t control. But it was joyous. He laughed as he tore his mouth away to gasp for air, then laughed again at Gillian’s complaints.
“You are insatiable. How am I ever to have strength to train when you drain it from me so thoroughly?”
“You’ve no one to blame but yourself,” she said.
“You liked it, then.”
A shiver went through her and she wrapped both her arms around his neck.
“Would I shame myself by admitting it?”
He shook his head. “Nay, Gill. I prize your honesty greatly.”
“Then I liked it very much.”
He pressed his face against her neck and relaxed. He tightened his arm around her waist and groaned softly when she began to scratch his back. As an afterthought, he sat up, ripped off his tunic, then lay back down and gathered his lady close. Her hands were hesitant on his bare skin at first, but his groans obviously encouraged her.
She was then quiet for so long, Christopher almost asked her if aught was amiss. Then she spoke.
“Will we have a child now?”
He smiled against her neck. “Soon enough, I’ll warrant.”
She nodded and continued to scratch. “I thought as much. Even though we were wearing most of our clothing.”
Christopher froze. Then he lifted his head.
“What?”
“What?” she echoed.
Christopher swallowed very carefully. “Gillian—” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Gill, that was naught but kissing.”
“My lord?”
Merciful saints above, the child was an innocent.
“Gillian, there is much more to it than just kissing.”
“Aye, I know.”
He suspected she didn’t.
“What do you know?”
She made a small choking sound, but he waited patiently. ’Twas best he knew now the fullness of her ignorance.
“To start with,” she said, sounding enormously embarrassed, “I believed we were to wear far less clothing.”
“And?”
“And,” she said slowly, “there was to be more moaning from both of us.”
“Indeed.”
“Aye. There was certainly kissing aplenty, but I daresay the lack of the other was a great oversight.”
“I would have to agree.” He fought diligently to suppress his smile. “Now, tell me where you learned all this.”
“Berengaria.”
Christopher groaned.
“Magda knew nothing. I think Nemain knew a good deal more than any of us, but she was rather closemouthed about the whole affair.”
“I daresay she was.”
“They told me to be bold and you would see to the rest. And you have—and nicely too.”
Saints above, how had he managed to endure his life without this woman? He smiled as he leaned down and kissed her softly.
“Love,” he whispered, “a child is conceived when a man’s seed finds its way inside a woman’s body.”
“Oh.”
“And that is accomplished in a certain way.”
“Ah, I see.”
She saw nothing of the kind; he knew that for a fact. And he wanted to make sure she understood, so he took her hand and drew it down his body. Her touch was featherlight, then her fingers found what he’d meant them to find. They stilled abruptly, clutching their discovery. Christopher winced. Perhaps a tactile demonstration hadn’t been wise.
Gillian was silent for so long, he thought she might have fainted. Then she cleared her throat.
“Ah, I see,” she said, in a choked voice.
He doubted she did, but she would soon enough. He smiled as he gathered her close. She came willingly, stiffening only slightly when her hips came into contact with his. He rubbed his hand lightly over her back to soothe her.
“Gillian?”
“Aye?” came the muffled reply.
“Did our kissing please you?”
“Aye.”
“Then trust me about this. There is great pleasure in the act. I’ll be gentle and slow. You believe me, aye?”
She nodded.
“Then in a few days I’ll humor you and let you bed me. But only after you’re blind with lust and you prod me to our bedchamber at the point of your sword.”
Her laugh was muffled against his chest.
“Unchivalrous oaf.”
He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him.
“Unchivalrous oaf? For that insult, I require several kisses to restore my good humor.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “Be about your work, wench, before I grow angry. You know what a fearsome temper this scourge has.”
Gillian humored him, just as he’d hoped she would. He contented himself with her kisses and resigned himself to many hours in the lists over the next few days to rid himself of the desire that the shy touch of his wife’s mouth on his sent coursing through his veins.
In spite of himself, Christopher found himself not giving the wait a single thought.
twenty-two
>
GILLIAN SAT IN THE ALCOVE OF THE TOWER ROOM AND watched her husband train. She toyed with a lock of her hair and stopped fighting the feelings just watching Christopher stirred in her. She couldn’t look at his back without thinking of exactly how it felt to run her fingers over those heavy muscles. Looking at his arms brought to mind how it felt to be encircled by those thick limbs and pulled tightly against that hard chest. When he lunged, her eyes were drawn to his legs, unyieldingly solid legs that pressed up against hers when he kissed her.
Just the memory of it brought scalding heat to her cheeks and made her tug uncomfortably at her clothes. Though she’d been sorely tempted to hie herself down to Berengaria’s hut one last time, she’d refrained. Instead, she’d drunk bottles of wine laced liberally with beauty and courage and prayed she would be equal to the task when the time came. The only relief she saw in sight was that when Christopher finally did take her she would have on less clothing, which would surely ease the heat that rose in her by simply looking at him.
She shifted on her seat, then noticed that Christopher had stopped working. He was leaning against the wall opposite her, looking at her.
“What?” she asked defensively.
“Just listening to you watch me,” he said, smiling.
“I wasn’t watching you,” she lied.
Christopher laughed and crossed the chamber to her. He captured her mouth before she could catch her breath, then eased her back on the bench. He leaned over her, bracing himself on his hands and one knee and kissed her until her breath came in gasps.
“Are you watching me now?” he asked, lifting his head.
“Aye,” she breathed. “Both of you. Or perhaps there are three. I’m too overwhelmed to say.”
Christopher shook his head and laughed again. “You’ve no one to blame but yourself for my insufferable ego, my Gill.” He straightened and pulled her up to her feet. “Let me build up the fire for you, then I’ll go wash.”
And then I’ll come to you. The words went unspoken, but Gillian didn’t need to hear them. She’d had several days to become accustomed to the idea of consummating her marriage and she knew the time had come.
Christopher hadn’t pressed her. Indeed, he seemed almost reluctant to touch her. He’d done nothing but kiss her for the past se’nnight and she found herself wanting more. Just exactly what that ‘more’ entailed, she didn’t know. But Christopher knew and he would show her if she had to order him to—an idea she didn’t find unappealing in the slightest.
After all, she had become a dragonness.
She sat by the fire in their bedchamber and waited for Christopher to return to their chamber. Jason brought supper, stammered out a greeting, then yelped when the flat of Christopher’s hand caught his backside on his way out the door. Gillian watched her husband bolt the bedchamber door then come to cast himself down next to her. He smiled and reached out to take her hand.
“What does my lady desire of me?”
“Tonight, I should have my dragon sit close to the fire and partake of this fine meal his giddy squire has provided.”
“And then shall you bed me?” he asked, with a teasing smile.
She wished he could see her expression, for then no words would have been necessary. She took his hand instead. She kissed his fingertips one by one then cradled his palm against her cheek.
“Nay,” she said softly. “But you shall bed me.”
Christopher almost fell over into their supper. Gillian laughed as she pushed him back up and put a goblet of wine into his hand. He downed it in a single gulp.
“Easy,” she said with a smile. “Don’t choke.”
“Help me,” he said hoarsely. “My hands are shaking too badly to cut my own meat.”
Gillian moved the board so he could sit with his back to the fire; then she served him. And his hands did tremble. He finished his meal with great haste, then set the board aside. He found her hands and brought them to his mouth.
“Gillian,” he said, “we can wait. I don’t want you to fear me.”
“If I feared you, I wouldn’t have said what I did.”
“Your hands are trembling.”
“So are yours.”
His smile was appealingly crooked. “Does this mean I’ll need to call for Jason to help carry us both to bed?”
She shook her head. “We’ll help each other.”
He dragged his hand through his hair. “Saints, I’m unnerved.”
“Then you want to wait—”
Immediately his arms were around her and he was lifting her onto his lap. “Let’s not be so hasty.”
Gillian smiled. “Perhaps you would like it if I ordered you about for a few moments more.”
Christopher smiled. “Perhaps. What would milady have me do?”
“Take off your tunic, definitely.” This was surely the first step.
Christopher obliged her immediately. Gillian moved off his lap and sat near him, facing his side. She dragged her fingers through his damp hair and watched him close his eyes and smile at the pleasure. And as she watched him, she marveled at how changed they both were. Of course, Christopher was as gruff and demanding as he had been from the first. Outside their bedchamber, that is.
When they were alone, his hard edges softened. He teased her, he laughed with her, he spent long hours brushing her hair or scratching her back. She was no longer afraid of the tall, intimidating man she’d faced so timidly in front of a priest. She only teased him about his terrible reputation, knowing full well that it hid a most tenderhearted and loving man.
She also marveled at the changes in herself. No longer was she afraid to speak her mind to Christopher, or to anyone else for that matter. Oh, Cook still intimidated her, but not nearly as much as he had at first. She teased Colin with as much enthusiasm as Christopher did. She mothered Jason terribly and she had even mustered up enough courage to greet Christopher’s personal guardsmen when she saw them instead of scuttling by and praying they didn’t speak to her.
And, hard as it was to admit, she had begun to feel beautiful. At least Christopher thought she was. Whatever his hands told him pleased him, for he touched her continuously whenever they were alone and never let her out of arm’s reach when they were with others. He praised whatever feature he happened to have his hands on at the moment and he did it so sincerely that she had come to believe it.
More than that, she felt desirable. It hadn’t even taken wine to pry from Jason the truth that Christopher hadn’t touched a woman since his wounding. Christopher had pretended not to hear her when she’d brought up the question to him, which did nothing but convince her of the truth of it. So their marriage had not been the choice of either. He could have bedded her once that first night and been done with it. That he had waited so patiently until she was ready only convinced her that he wanted her and her alone. That knowledge had done more to bolster her courage than almost anything else.
“What are you thinking?”
She looked at him and smiled. “Oh, nothing much.”
“You’re thinking of me. I can tell.”
“Actually, I was thinking that you might indeed care for me a bit.”
One side of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “Now, what could I possibly have done to fill your head with such a notion?”
Gillian reached up to touch his cheek. “You tell me I’m beautiful,” she said, feeling tears sting her eyes. “I don’t think you’d say it if you didn’t feel something.”
Christopher slipped his hand under her hair and kissed the outer corners of her eyes.
“No tears, Gillian. I beg you.”
She put her arms around his neck and held him tightly. “You’ve just made me very happy. It was nothing any other grumbly dragon couldn’t have done with the right amount of teasing.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Ah, but there was only one dragon for you, lady, and you have him caught firmly about the neck. Perhaps you should find a task for him besides catc
hing a chill from your tears. Rumor has it he’s a powerfully fine kisser.”
“I never trust rumor where my lord is concerned. I fear I’ll need to be convinced.”
Christopher obliged her. And then his kisses turned into something entirely different. Gillian felt certain she knew where he was leading. When he cradled her in his arms and rose, she knew he intended to take her to the bed.
When they reached the bed and he laid her down gently, she was prepared to have him remove his remaining clothes. She even managed to matter-of-factly help him remove her own gown and shift. Aye, she was fully prepared for what was to follow, for hadn’t they kissed often enough in the past?
But when he lay down next to her and gathered her against his warm, unclad frame, she realized that nothing ever could have prepared her for the sensations that rushed through her.
By the saints, it wasn’t at all what Berengaria had led her to expect!
• • •
IT WAS SURELY THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT BEFORE SHE could again breathe. She lay with her head on her husband’s shoulder, trailing her finger idly over his bare chest. It had been a very long evening, full of things she’d never for the life of her expected.
And not that the last of it had been much to shout about, except for the discomfort. Gillian had held her tongue, partly because she didn’t want to hurt Christopher’s feelings and partly because of the very fact that she had been lying beneath the Dragon of Blackmour, a man feared over the length and breadth of England, and he had whispered her name harshly as he’d made her his. Complaining had been the last thing she’d been willing to do. Of all the names in England he could have ground out from between clenched teeth, it was hers, Gillian, that he chose.
He had trembled as he buried his face against her neck and tears had finally poured from her eyes. Christopher of Blackmour sought comfort in her arms. It was more than she could have ever hoped for.