“He had heard things said about her. Aye, and he will. That cannot be avoided. But he is a fair boy. At court, he thought to see for himself.”
“Oh? Did he speak to her?”
“Not really. He watched her. Followed her. ’Tis how he knew what game she played with me.”
Thayer sighed, filled with sympathy for his son. “A hard lesson for a boy to learn. Boys do not have much to do with their mothers from an early age, but no boy wishes to discover ill about her.”
“I do not believe his heart was set upon her either way. He holds no bitterness that I can see, although he has not spoken much about it.”
“Well, mayhap I should speak to him.”
“It cannot hurt.”
“Nay. Mayhap I should have spoken earlier. Gytha, do we have a midwife about?”
“Aye, Janet. Edna, for all she is young, is not without some knowledge.” She gently moved against him in what she hoped was an arousing, sensual manner. “Janet is very good at healing and has become a stern practitioner of the art of cleanliness.”
He nodded, gritting his teeth against the urge to take her more fully into his arms. “That eases my mind some. You had best get some sleep.”
She peeked up at him and saw that he had closed his eyes. Evidently, subtlety was not good enough. Rubbing her cheek against the fiery pelt on his strong chest, she moved her hand over his smooth hip.
“We can think of some names in the morning,” he said, wincing at the telltale hoarseness in his voice. He placed his hand over hers to stop her enticing caress.
Gytha swirled her tongue over his flat, brown nipple, bringing it to a hard nub and causing him to tremble faintly.
Thayer had no doubts left about what she was after, but he struggled to ignore it. “Daughter’s names as well.”
Biting back a smile over the way he fought the passion she could feel building inside him, Gytha teased his other nipple to hardness. Ever so gently, she drew it into her mouth. The soft groan of pleasure that pulled from him delighted her.
Tangling his fingers in her hair, Thayer tried to hold her still. It only worked to urge her on in her seductive play. “I but pray that, whichever we have bred, boy or girl, takes more from you.”
Edging down his body, she kissed her way to his taut midriff. She could not fully suppress a soft, husky laugh when his sentence ended on a high, strained note. Seducing her husband was proving to be great fun indeed.
“Gytha,” he ground out as she slid her hand from his lax grip to stroke his thighs. “You are with child.”
“I know. Was it not I who told you?” She used her tongue to draw idle designs on his inner thighs.
“Sweet heaven.” He groaned, unable to keep his mind clear, his thoughts in order. “You are so small and I am so big.”
“Mmmmm. So magnificently big.” Feeling increasingly wanton and bold she slid her hand all the way up the inside of his thigh.
“I could hurt the baby.” He closed his eyes, shifting with pleasure beneath her intimate stroking.
“While I have much to learn about childbearing, there is one thing I do know. ’Tis the first three months in which the chances of losing the baby are the highest. Your child has rested within me for four months now.”
“Four months,” he repeated, telling himself that he would halt her play in a moment.
“Aye. Now, what were we doing a month ago, Thayer?”
“A month ago?” He fought to think, to remember, but it was difficult when her kisses and the warm strokes of her tongue drew ever nearer to his manhood. “Ah, making love. Jesu, ’tis hard to think when I can feel your sweet breath upon my staff,” he muttered in a thick voice. “Aye, aye, we were making love. God’s blood, I could have hurt you.”
“But you did not. So what do you think that means, my large, sometimes stupid husband?”
“That making love to you cannot hurt you or the baby?” he replied a little groggily, wondering if he really had just heard her call him stupid.
“Very good.” She laughed, a soft sound thickened and made husky by her own soaring passions.
“Pardee,” he cried out when her lips, then her tongue usurped the delightful stroking she had begun with her hand. “Aye, little one, ’tis a sweet torture.” He forgot all his fine plans for considerate abstinence, fixing his gaze upon the fair head between his thighs. “’Tis nearly as intoxicating to watch you pleasure me so as it is to feel your sweet lips upon me.”
