They shared a nervous laugh just as Alixandrea, Audrey and Caroline returned. Alixandrea’s concerned expression was eased when her husband called her over. She slid her hand into his outstretched one, her gaze moving anxiously between Mena and her husband.
“Is everything well?” she asked him quietly.
He nodded, standing up and kissing her hand more tenderly than she could ever remember. His blue eyes were warm and loving upon her; she could literally feel his adoration reaching out to embrace her. But before she could say any more, he looked to Audrey, now happily shoveling custard into her mouth. His gaze softened as a twinkle came to his eye.
“Young lady, if you have come to see a match, let me see if I can give you a good one,” he said as he moved to the base of the platform. “I shall unseat all of my brothers just for you.”
“And take their horses?” she asked, her mouth full.
He laughed. “So you know something of tournaments, do you?” he said. “Well, I shall try, but I doubt my brother Mark will go down without a fight. He will try to unseat me first.”
“Send him to the ground, my lord,” she instructed, extending her wooden spoon at him imperiously.
“It shall be done.”
Audrey exclaimed gleefully as Matthew mounted his charger and rode off across the field. Alixandrea could not remember ever seeing him so happy about anything.
*
He thrust intoher repeatedly, listening to her soft moans with every contact, every hint of friction. The firelight from the dying hearth illuminated her beautiful breasts as they quivered with every measured stroke he delivered. It became mesmerizing to watch her move, her eyes closed to the joy of his touch, experiencing the magic he seemed to cast upon her.
Matthew’s hands were on her buttocks, holding her to him as he drove into her time and time again. Alixandrea’s hands were on his neck, holding him fast as their bodies melded into one heart, one soul. When he finally found his release, she was able to match him. Bodies shuddered, sweat glistened, and Matthew gathered her up against him and held her close.
It was the fourth time they had made love that night. It had started just after supper and now continued well after midnight. Matthew was insatiable; she had been naked and in bed since sunset with his body over her or in her one way or another.
There was more than passion to his touch; there was wonder and excitement and an odd desperation. Though she did not mention it to him, she could feel it. Somehow, he was feeling pain and she thought she knew why. When he flipped her over onto her stomach and took her a fifth time for the night, she simply surrendered. He did not want to talk, he wanted to touch, and she would let him for as long as he needed to.
Somewhere during the night, they slept wrapped in each other’s arms. Alixandrea awoke to him making love to her again, and he took her twice as the sun rose. By the time the dawn was upon them, she was exhausted but in a good way. She thought to herself that she would need to sleep all day to recover from the active night.
He never let her out of his arms, his face buried in her neck. They were swathed in linens, burrowed warm and cozy in theheavy bed. She rolled over onto her left side, gazing at his dozing face. He looked so peaceful. His blue eyes finally opened and fixed on her.
“Good morning, Lady Wellesbourne,” he murmured.
“Good morning, my lord,” she smiled at him. A hand came up to touch his cheek, his brow, moving across his face. “You surely must be exhausted.”
He grinned, his eyes closing. “Not at all. I feel remarkable.”
“You have a tournament today.”
“Indeed I do. Are you planning on watching or will I have the shame of my wife in the lists with her hands over her eyes?”
She giggled. “I will watch, I promise.”
He pulled her close, kissing her until he grew hard again and his passion begged for release. He took her for an eighth and final time, listening to the birds outside the window as the day began to deepen.
Alixandrea lay in bed, spent, as he rose to relieve himself in the chamber pot. There was a basin of cold water and a cake of soap on the vanity near the massive wardrobe; she studied his naked body as he made his way over to the water and proceeded to wash himself. He had magnificent form; tight buttocks, muscular legs, a slender waist and wide shoulders. Though she’d never before seen a naked man, she had very quickly learned to admire Matthew’s nude form and he wasn’t shy about parading around in it.
With a small bronze mirror and sharp edged razor, he shaved in the cold water, remarkably not cutting himself. He did not care if the water was warm or not and did not want the interruption of a servant bearing hot water. Properly cleaned and shaved, he faced his wife as she lay wrapped up in the linens. He smiled at her.
“Are you going to lie there all day?”
She stretched wearily. “I would if I could.”
He went over to the bed and smacked her lightly on the backside. “You cannot,” he said firmly. “The tourney is in two hours and I need you up and dressed.”
She sat up, her glorious bronze hair mussed and her delectable white shoulders revealed. He looked at her and groaned.
“God’s Bones,” he muttered. “Hurry up and get dressed before I am back in that bed with you.”
