He leaned on his forearms and searched her face. Reaching beneath his tunic, he yanked down his braies, his throbbing member pressed against her wetness.
Her eyes closed in pleasure and he plunged into her. She exhaled. He braced himself and rode her hard. She welcomed each thrust and was quickly moaning against him. He covered her mouth with his, taking her sounds into himself. His tongue thrusting against her as well. Her passion was peaked. Panting, she cried out his name. Another thrust and he stilled within her, filling her with his seed. He pressed into her again, hard. He looked down at her.
“This is where I belong. Did you have other ideas?”
She looked away, unable to hold his gaze.
He covered her breast with his hand, as if assessing some internal measure of her. She steadied her breath. He couldn’t know.
“Any news here? Is there anything you wish to share with me?”
Brighit refused to face him. She shook her head.
Peter was surprised at the overwhelming joy that spread throughout him with the obvious condition of his wife. Brighit was with child. He was sincerely overjoyed. He was also thoroughly confused by her reaction to him.
She snuggled against him where she lay still naked, sleeping beside him. He hugged her closer and kissed the top of her head. Perhaps allowing Tadhg to force him to marry her was not Peter’s best idea. Perhaps it left some seed of doubt about his feelings.
When she’d asked him why he didn’t just tell them nothing happened, he thought she understood. He’d told her they both knew something happened. He was not willing to let her go. He realized his feelings for her. Feelings that were obvious every time he held her. Every time he kissed her. Every time he loved her.
Brighit made a sound in her sleep and her hand slid over her belly. He wondered if the child could be felt yet.
Despite the exhaustion of his body, his mind raced. The siege had taken much longer than he would have liked. Although it ended with the coming of terms for Emma and the soldiers, Ralph de Gael would be brought to London to face the King. Nothing had been discovered for certain about the Godwinsons. The Earls had lost much when Harold Godwinson was killed. Land. Power. Money. The idea of another Godwinson ruling England could be the impetus for the revolt. No such connection had been discovered for certain.
And why was she wearing the nun’s robes? What was Brighit thinking? That she could just continue on with her vows as if he’d never married her? He was not going to let her just walk away. He would rather die than live without her. She’d professed her love to him so why this?
He ran his hand along her side stopping at her belly.
She snuggled closer still.
He slid his hand along the new swell. His lungs expanded. It would be a boy. Or a girl. It mattered little. It would be from her. A pattering against his hand. He flattened his palm. A steady push and a slide.
Brighit mumbled something and rolled away from him. Her full breasts pushing into his hand. He nibbled at her shoulder. Her breasts were heavy. She shifted when his hand brushed her nipple. And sensitive.
“I’ve missed you so,” Peter whispered.
He turned her face toward him and kissed her.
She responded still not quite awake, turning into his arms.
“Do you know how much I’ve missed you?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Let me tell you then.”
Her eyes opened, still heavy with sleep and unfocused.
“I heard a tune being played from the castle. It was beautiful and reminded me of you. I wanted you to tell me its name.”
Fully awake suddenly, there was a wary look in her eyes.
He continued. “I saw a bunch of blue flowers trying to survive beneath a tree where the snow hadn’t reached. They reminded me of the one you’d put in your hair. Do you remember?”
She nodded, a frown creasing her brow.
“Everywhere I looked, I saw something that I wanted to share with you.” He pushed her hair behind her ear. “And you weren’t there with me. I want you with me always, my lovely Brighit.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply. Then pulled away and smiled.
