A Knight In Her Arms(8)

“His name was Alric,” she whispered. “He had fair hair, like the sun, and blue eyes like the sea, and when he smiled at me I could not help but smile back. I wanted so much to be married to him, and when my father changed his mind, I was distraught.”

Alric. He remembered her and she had not remembered him. But what was he doing here? Was it really a quirk of fate that had brought him to Godestone? I heard of a plan, he’d said. He’d come riding fast to her aid and she had treated him horribly. Was that the person she had become?

Now her own words in the great hall came back to her and suddenly she felt herself cringe inside. He had come to her aid and she had accused him of trying to trick her into marriage. Joan had finished disrobing her, and suddenly she knew she needed to go and find Alric, she needed to speak to him.

“Where is Alric?” she asked Joan.

The maid didn’t seem to find anything odd in her request. “He is sleeping in the little room off the great hall, lady. He said his leg pained him and he did not want to disturb his men.”

His leg pained him, of course it did, but he did not complain. Isabella felt even more embarrassed by her behaviour. She thanked Joan and waited until the maid had left, and then she stood up, throwing a warm shawl about her shoulders, over her night attire, and went out of her door.

The room was lit by a single candle, and as she stepped away from the arras, she saw he was lying on a bed that had been brought in for him, made more comfortable with furs and cushions. He was dozing, but as soon as he heard her, he grabbed at his sword on the floor beside him, moving to stand and fight.

“Isabella!”

She came quietly forward, reaching to press him back onto the bed, stooping over him. Her braid fell over her shoulder, tickling his face.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I had forgotten but now I remember. Alric, I’m so sorry.”

His smile gleamed in the moonlight as he reached for her, tugging her down beside him. “We might have been husband and wife,” he whispered.

“Instead I was wed to Hamon,” she replied, and bit her lip. If only her father had chosen Alric, how different her life would have been.

“You were always trying to fix up my cuts and scrapes,” he murmured, brushing her cheek with his fingers. “You saw yourself as a healer even then, Isabella.”

Her body was cold and she snuggled closer to him, feeling his strength surrounding her. He pulled her under the coverings, wrapping his arms about her, nuzzling at her throat.

“I always kept track of you,” he rumbled. “I thought I might come to visit you, but at Wenton there was fighting with Matilda’s army, and we lost it. My father died and I was alone for a long time. I learned to fight, I made friends,” he reached to touch the tattoo on his arm, “I grew up, and now I have my lands back again. I am a wealthy man, Isabella. I do not need a wealthy wife.”

She searched his eyes for the contempt she feared she’d find there, but there was none. He humbled her. “I’m sorry. I am so used to men wanting me for Godestone.”

“Hush.” He kissed her mouth, and she was surprised to taste salty tears on his lips. Was she crying again? It seemed as if Alric’s arrival had opened a dam inside her. All the pain, all the ice, was melting away.

As he kissed her she returned his embrace, welcoming him with every fibre of her being. Never had she been held like this—any doubts were swept away and as his kisses became more passionate, deeper, his tongue thrust into her willing and open mouth and met her own.

With murmurs and caresses, he undressed her, and then his hands were on her naked body and she felt the heat of him everywhere as his firm muscular body pressed against her soft flesh. She wanted him inside her desperately but instead he was kissing her all over—her neck, her breasts, licking and kissing and teasing her nipples. Then he moved down to her belly and his fingers slid through the hair at the apex of her thighs and into the slippery folds of her secret places. She gasped as she felt a finger enter her and then held her breath when his kisses moved down and his tongue lapped at her, back and forth, before he latched onto her pearl and sucked hard. Her release was an explosion of ecstasy, and she cried out with the joy of it.

“Oh Alric. I did not know there could be such pleasure.”

“There is more, Isabella, much more.”

His cock was as big and hard as she remembered from the bath, butting against her thigh as he positioned himself between her legs. She was wet and ready for him, and she welcomed his cock willingly into her body. He stretched her, filled her, but she couldn’t seem to take enough of him. “Harder, oh Alric harder,” she moaned, her fingers digging into his buttocks, encouraging him to thrust again and again until at last she came, this time with him inside her. A moment later he came too, with a deep groan of pleasure, spilling his seed inside her.