“He is a Scot, I am told,” the earl said.
“Aye. His home is just over the border from Friarsgate. He has loved mama ever since he was a boy, to hear him tell it. He saw her first with her uncle at a cattle fair. He was very determined to have her to wife. He and his brothers brought salmon and whiskey to my parents’ wedding, and they played their pipes. Mama says she was angry, but that papa found it amusing.”
“Was your mother much at court?” he wondered.
“Nay, my mother hated court. When her second husband died she was sent into King Henry VII’s protective custody. She was only thirteen, I think, and her uncle Henry wanted to marry her off to his little boy to keep Friarsgate in the Bolton family. The king sent my father to escort mama to court where she met the Scots queen and Queen Katherine. They were all girls together in the Venerable Margaret’s household. My parents were betrothed, and returned north with the queen of Scotland’s wedding train. After papa died, mama visited Queen Margaret, and then Queen Katherine. But she was always eager to return home to Friarsgate. She and Logan move between it and his Claven’s Carn.”
“But you love the court,” he said.
“From the first time I came with mama and Uncle Thomas!” Philippa told him.
“Well, there is something we have in common,” he told her. “I like the court too. But of course we must make us an heir before we can spend too much time there.”
Philippa nodded. “I know my duty, my lord, and I promise you that I will do it.”
“But first,” he said, “we need to become more intimate, little one. You know that babies do not come from the fairies, I assume.” His big hand cupped her face.
“I am most aware of it, my lord, but I am not yet certain just how it is all accomplished,” she admitted candidly.
“I am a patient man to a point, Philippa, which surely you must admit you can understand by now,” he began, and his fingers began to unlace her bodice slowly. “We shall attain our goal while giving each other much pleasure.” He loosened the laces enough to open the garment, and he gazed with admiration upon her small creamy round breasts. “Ahh, how lovely you are,” he told her, a single finger tracing a path between the two breasts.
Philippa bit her lip nervously, and whispered to him so softly that he had to lean nearer to hear her. “The rowers, my lord.”
Her warm fragrance rose up to assail his nostrils. “... have not eyes in the back of their heads, as I have previously told you, little one.” He cupped one breast in his palm. It lay soft and quivering like a young dove newly netted. He touched the nipple with a fingertip, and it immediately puckered tightly. He bent his dark head and licked the nipple slowly, slowly.
Philippa hadn’t realized that she wasn’t breathing until she exhaled gustily. “Oh!” The sound was small, sharp, and very surprised.
“Did you like that?” he asked her, raising his head from her breast.
She nodded, her hazel eyes very wide. But for the moment she could not speak.
“Would you like me to do it again?” he said.
“Aye!” She managed to squeeze the word out but her throat was tight.
He drew her deeper into his embrace, and now his face pressed itself against the warm flesh bared to his sight. He covered her little breasts with kisses, and at one point felt her beating heart beneath his lips. He licked at the other nipple, and then he took it into the warmth of his mouth and began to suckle upon it gently.
Philippa shuddered with the utter pleasure he was giving her. A low moan escaped her lips, and then he suckled harder and harder upon her nipple until she felt an odd sensation in her nether regions, a tingle, no, a tiny throb, and she was wet but not from pee. It was a warm and sticky substance. She moved against him.
Suddenly Crispin St. Claire lifted his head from her bosom. The look in his eyes was one of unexpected surprise. Clumsily he began to relace her gown. “Are you a witch?” he asked her low.
“I do not understand,” Philippa replied. “Why have you stopped? I liked it!”
“So did I,” he admitted. “Perhaps too much, little one. I have never considered myself lustful, and yet I believe if we continue on in so intimate a manner I may steal your virginity from you before our union is blessed by the church. You would hate me for it, Philippa, and I do not want you to hate me.”
“Let me,” she said, and she completed the lacing, tying the bodice neatly in a small bow. “I have never before been touched in so tender and familiar a manner, my lord. I feared it, and yet when you made yourself free with my person, I was not afraid.” She sighed. “Indeed I enjoyed it, and regretted it when you stopped.”
“When this all began,” he told her, “it was for the land. But now I find that I desire you very much. But I honor you as my wife as well. I will not take your virtue in a boat upon the Thames, though were you not a virgin, Philippa, you would have been impaled upon my loveshaft five minutes ago.” Then he kissed her hungrily, his mouth exploring hers fiercely, forcing her lips to part, pushing his tongue between them to forage for her tongue.
Startled, she found that tongue caressing her tongue fervently. His hard body was pressed tightly against hers, crushing her breasts until she cried out in pain.
“I’m sorry!” he apologized. “God’s boots, what is this magic you have suddenly unleashed upon me, little one?” Jesu! His cock was as hard as stone from what should have been an innocent encounter to prepare his bride for her marital duties.
“Am I magical, my lord?” She was teasing him now, and to her surprise Philippa felt happier than she could ever remember feeling.
He laughed. “Aye, you are enchanting me, little one. And you have no idea at this moment of the power you hold over me, but you do. I think you will become a very dangerous woman one day soon.”
“I do not understand, but I will admit that I like the sound of your words, my lord,” she responded.
