Most crops had been harvested and stored before the news had come of Harold Godwinson’s first battle in the north with the forces of Harald Hardrada. When messengers had arrived with the news of their victory and then, on its heels, of their need to journey south to meet Duke William’s army on the coast, her people had continued in their work, never believing that a foreign army could overpower the forces behind King Harold.
Not until word of the king’s defeat and her father’s death arrived had they thought to take any precautions about defending themselves from Norman incursions. Truly, at first, she had expected to hear that English forces had rallied and pushed the Norman duke back to the coast. Never dreaming that his forces would instead spread out down the Thames into the heart of Wessex, she’d carried on as her father would have expected her to.
His holdings, as Thane of Taerford, were modest enough to have tenants who paid him in crops and varied enough to support cattle, pigs and other crops. The mill on the river and the weavers brought additional coin to them to support all those who lived within his lands.
And now? She knew not how things would be now. Her husband spoke of such things only in hushed tones to his men, and truly only to a circle of a few—Roger, Matthieu, Lucien and Brice. Not to her. As though conjured by her thoughts, the door opened and Giles stepped in. He did not glance at the bed, only moved around the chambers quietly as though expecting her to be asleep…as she had these last two nights.
‘I am awake, my lord,’ she said, alerting him to her presence and wakefulness. Pushing up on her elbows, she nodded at the table. ‘There is fresh wine if you would like some.’
Realising that he should be served it, Fayth lifted the covers and scrambled out. Her legs protested the quick move by cramping and she winced as she walked to the table. She filled a cup and turned to hand it to him.
His gaze did not stay on the wine; it might have paused there, but it settled on her breasts, exposed by the untied laces of the undergown. As the heated expression in his eyes grew stronger she grabbed both edges of the wayward gown and held them together. Lord Giles looked at her face then, but the heat did not diminish. Even after he swallowed the wine in one long draw, the desire in his expression did not lessen.
Her skin tingled as he reached out his hand towards her, gently pushing her own aside and touching her breasts through the thin linen layer. Her body pulsed with heat and a strange throbbing began between her legs, growing stronger as he slid his hands down and then up again over her. Breathing became difficult, for she kept holding it within her, waiting, waiting for something she could not name.
Giles stepped closer now and, deciding to move her boldly towards the passion he sensed she tried to control, spread the gown so that her breasts were open to his sight.
‘Lovely,’ he whispered in his Breton language. ‘Beautiful,’ he said, using his fingers to graze only the tips of them. When she trembled under his touch, he repeated it, enjoying the way her body responded to him.
His body reacted as well, his blood rushed through his veins, readying him to join hers. Every encounter threatened his decisions about her and he knew he was not ready to take her in that final way. Ready?Oui.Not willing was more the case. Giles then used his whole hand to cup each of her breasts, holding them, caressing the tips with his thumbs as he moved his hands under their fullness and soft skin.
She let out a sigh and her eyes closed then, only for a moment, but there was a softening in her gaze when she opened them once more. He took advantage of that moment to move to her side, still touching her, still caressing her breasts, and then to stand behind her. Now, he encircled her with his arms and continued to enjoy the feel of her in front of him, against him, just near him. When his cock rose to fullness between them, she did not startle, and he held her tighter to savour the feel of it.
Fayth would tell herself later that she did not resist because she was exhausted or because she feared angering him, but the shameful reason was that pleasure overwhelmed her. If her mother or Emma had revealed that a simple touch could bring about such myriad feelings and cause her body to heat as though on fire, she would not have believed it.
Now, feeling her body tighten and ache with his every touch and feeling it throb each time he whispered his foreign words in that husky, deep voice, she knew he did this with a purpose in mind. Lord Giles was seducing her, much as any lord could or would seduce a maiden into giving away her favours. The only way she could justify this and explain her weakness was their marriage vows and his right to claim her.
As her body responded to him she felt as though she would fall, her legs trembled beneath her, so she leaned back against him for support. He surprised her by accepting her weight and shifting his arms to hold her closely. Fayth felt the presence of his manhood between them and allowed herself to lean back against him and it. He pushed forward once and then again and then rested it there without moving it.
She thought he was done exploring her body as was his right when he released her breast and used his free hand to push her hair aside. Nuzzling her neck, he laid kisses along the line of her shoulder up to her neck and then caught the edge of her ear with his teeth. She shook then, uncontrollably, and she heard his soft laughter as it vibrated against her skin. Did this please him in some way? Too far into pleasure to consider more, she allowed him his way.
She was soft. She trembled in his embrace. She did not stop him. Giles slid his hand down from her hair and grasped the thin gown, gathering it in his hand and exposing her legs now to his gaze and his touch. At first, she reached down and covered his hand with hers, he thought to stop him from his obvious intent, but then she just let hers remain there on his while he moved ever lower.
The mass of soft curls guarding the junction of her thighs tickled his palm but his body screamed for more than a touch. Without thinking, he arched against her, rubbing his straining cock against her bottom and savouring the explosion of pleasure it caused. Lady Fayth moved within his arms then, closer to him and with more pressure on his hand, guiding him forward on his quest.
Her panting breaths changed then and he realised she held her breath. As did he. He spread his fingers wide and touched the curls gently at first, just barely grazing them and then running his fingers along them with more pressure and then slipping between her legs to touch the centre of her excitement.
Her body might be inexperienced at this but it wept onto his fingers as he touched that intimate place and slid along the folds of her womanhood. She shook in his arms and he shifted his other arm to hold her more firmly against him and he continued to caress her. He knew what he searched for and he touched and rubbed her, making her gasp over and over again until he found it—the tiny budlike nub.
Giles rubbed there until he felt another gush of wetness from deeper within and then, spreading it along the folds, he caressed every inch he could reach. Sliding one, then two, then three fingers inside and drawing them out, he used it to ease his path and to heighten her pleasure. She tossed her head where she leaned it on his chest and Giles began to kiss her neck, licking and nipping it in time with his fingers down there.
Then, when he felt her body tighten and prepare for that final step of release, he took the nub between his finger and thumb and rolled it there. Squeezing there and still sliding over it, he felt her entire body shake and she began to moan.
‘Giles?’ she murmured through clenched teeth. ‘Giles?’ she asked again on a breathy moan.
‘Do not fear this, my lady. Do not fear,’ he repeated as he leaned down and kissed and used his teeth on her neck in a place that seemed to be a sensitive one to her. With his mouth there and his fingers rubbing the engorged folds and nub between her legs, his name was now an announcement rather than a question.
‘Giles!’
Her body shook now and he held her tightly as tremors moved through her. Fayth could not stop herself from arching into his hand or from rubbing herself against his touch at a faster pace than the one he moved to. And she could not stop herself from pressing her bottom against his hardness.
Wave after wave of pleasure struck her, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to think of anything except his fingers rubbing in and against that most private place. Losing any remnant of control, she released herself into his power and let the aching and the answering pleasure escalate until it flowed throughout her body. She might have screamed, but she did not care or know at that moment.
A few moments or minutes later, she gained a sense of herself and found herself collapsed against her husband and him against the wall. Not remembering when that had occurred or when he had removed his fingers from that place, she tried to lift her head and move away. He held her tightly and thrust against her once and then twice and then his body shook. The place between them and the back of her undergown dampened as he released his seed there. With a loud exhalation, he rested his head against her shoulder and she felt his heated breaths against her skin.
Confused and feeling very vulnerable in his embrace, she pushed free and stood there, unable to face him. How could something so wondrous occur between enemies? How could she respond to his touch as she had? This was different from helping her people and aiding him as a result. This was a personal betrayal of her father’s memory.
And, in spite of knowing that, her body yet throbbed as small waves of pleasure pulsed through her, duller each time, but a reminder of her weakness.
