All within Tullymullagh were seized with delight upon the prospect of a wedding. By the afternoon of the Monday following Connor’s funeral, the hall was decked with greenery, the chapel filled with beeswax candles, and Brianna smiled once again. Gavin growled at all and sundry when duties were not done with acceptable haste. Cook filled the hall and bailey with tempting aromas. Uther hastened to and fro like a busy bird.
All was so cheerful that Luc was nearly convinced that Uther and Gavin had spoken aright, that everything of import had truly been settled.
But still a kernel of doubt lodged within him, still he ensured his princess was not left alone. Indeed, he found excuses to find himself in the lady’s company, much to her amusement.
That Monday morn, the sun shone with rare fervor for so late in the year. Luc found himself whistling as he strode to the River Darrow to wash in its icy waters. He took a deep breath of the morning air, glad he had spurned the crowded quarters of the kitchens, this morn. All would be clamoring for a bath, but Luc would have these few moments alone.
Uther had conjured a tabard of deep green for Luc and a crisp white chemise of finely woven linen, more fitting for events of this day than his simpler garb. His boots had been polished, his hair trimmed.
Aye, on this perfect day, he would make Brianna his wife.
And Luc wanted to look his best. He eyed his reflection in the water skeptically and confirmed that the bulk of his bruising had healed. Then, refusing to glance to the rock that had claimed Father Padraigh’s life, Luc set to the labor of scraping the whiskers from his jaw.
A shout from the bailey made his head snap up, the jingle of a thousand bells made Luc’s eyes narrow. He straightened and stood, a chanting that could only come from minstrels granting him sudden understanding of what he heard.
Minstrels arrived, which could be no coincidence. It must be that Rowan was returned. It made perfect sense that Rowan would have found such a company of entertainers, having been raised among their kind, and Luc could only smile at the fortuitous timing.
’Twould be fitting to have entertainment on this day of days.
Luc hauled on his new chemise, his anticipation rising as he climbed to the orchard wall. He reached the summit of the wall just in time to see the last of a gaily garbed troupe of troubadours be swallowed by the shadows of the portal. Luc retrieved the new tunic he had laid aside and donned it, knotting his belt overtop, then strode in the company’s wake.
Luc started when Ruarke lunged out of the shadows just inside the doorway. The bruise Gavin had granted him was still a glaring yellow. Indeed, the knight had been trapped so long in the dungeons that Luc had nigh forgotten him.
Or tried to do so. Luc felt a curious satisfaction that the other knight had not healed as quickly as he, then chastised himself silently for a lack of compassion.
“What travesty is this?” Ruarke demanded. “I have just heard that you intend to wed Brianna!”
“ ’Tis old news, Ruarke,” Luc retorted calmly. “Indeed, you were in the garden yourself when she laughed.”
“She will not wed you,” Ruarke growled. “She cannot wed you.” He jabbed himself in the chest. “Connor intended that Brianna should wed me.”
Luc moved to step past the other man, not interested in his insistence. “How odd that Connor forgot that detail when his daughter laughed.”
“He did not!”
“Aye, he did,” Luc said firmly. “Connor endorsed my suit that day in the garden and you know it well.”
To Luc’s surprise, his agreement made Ruarke grin coldly. “I am surprised you do not recall the rest of that day’s events,” he declared. “Connor also conceded that Brianna should wed the brother who made her laugh loudest and longest.”
Luc waited, for ’twas clear the other man would continue.
“ ’Tis doubly odd,” Ruarke mused as he folded his arms across his chest, his eyes glinting with antagonism, “but I cannot help thinking of the last time we had troubadours at Tullymullagh.”
“Aye?”
“Aye.” Ruarke’s smile broadened. “The lady Brianna laughed so hard she wept. Indeed, she was yet giggling the following day.”
Luc’s blood ran suddenly cold. ’Twas only too easy to recall that Brianna had laughed only slightly that day in the garden. Indeed, she had not even loosed a guffaw. ’Twould not take much to best that!
But Luc could not lose her now!
Ruarke leaned forward and poked Luc in the chest, his eyes gleaming. “Do not be so certain, humble Luc, that this bride truly will be yours.”
Luc bit down hard on his response, not wanting to grant this man more of a response than he already had. “I thank you for your concern,” he said frostily. “ ’Tis good of you to take an interest when there is naught you might win this day.” When the knight’s eyes flashed in anger, Luc pivoted and strode to the hall.
Ruarke, he was quick to note, followed immediately behind.
Even having braced himself for a display, Luc found the giddiness of Rowan’s entourage startling. There was a drumroll just as Luc entered and fanfare of horns, then a jongleur garbed in bright green and gold tumbled head over heels across the hall. He bounced to his feet and grinned outright at the assembly.
A trio of minstrels trotted fast behind him, their clothing no less merry. Their faces were painted and bells jingled around their knees. The foursome squared up quickly and began a dance, chanting infectiously as they cavorted in the hall.
One jongleur encouraged the assembly to clap in unison. The few minstrels still resident at Tullymullagh began to pluck their own lutes and dulcimers in time.
The assembly applauded and exchanged smiles; the troupe’s arrival clearly considered a timely one. Luc quickly spied Brianna, looking startled at her place on the dais. Garbed in emerald and gold, she was bewitchingly beautiful. He pushed his way through the crowd, anxious to be by her side.
“Rowan!” Gavin roared as he came from the kitchens. He held a chalice high, darting a significant glance to Luc. “My son Rowan de Montvieux returns from the bride quest!”
No doubt Gavin did not intend to defend Luc’s status. He wondered what advantage his father hoped to gain and could not help but think of Margaux’s significant influence.
But Luc knew ’twas Brianna who held the outcome of the day in her delicate hands. And as much as Luc might have preferred otherwise, Ruarke was right.
The lady must stand by her own dictate.
Chatter erupted and rolled through the assembly at Gavin’s words, those gathered taking a more avid interest in the arrivals.
“But—but this cannot be!” Brianna protested. “There is no longer a bride quest, for I am to be wed this very day!”
“My lady!” Luc strode to her side and all eyes turned upon him. He was aware only of Brianna’s alarmed gaze, his heart beginning to pound when she looked to him. Luc hated to argue with her, but there was no question of the right course in this matter.
’Twas a matter of principle.
As much as Luc chafed at the knowledge of that.
“You granted a quest,” he reminded her solemnly, “and you must stand by your own terms.”
“Aye,” Ruarke bellowed. “Victory belongs to the brother who makes the princess laugh longest and loudest!”
The assembly held their breath as one—all eyes fixed on their princess. Brianna swore under her breath. Her grimace might have been humorous under other circumstances, but Luc felt no less frustration than she.
“Curse duty,” she muttered, then flicked a mutinous glance at Luc. “This lesson of putting aside selfish desire does not come readily,” she complained.
Luc shook his head, as he came to stand behind her. She would take the right course, he knew it well. “You know what must be done,” he said softly.
Brianna heaved a sigh and straightened her shoulders, leaning slightly against Luc as though she had need of his support. She raised her voice and addressed the crowd. “Luc speaks aright,” she conceded graciously. “I stand by my duty and the terms of my own quest. Let the troubadours begin.”
And her fingers closed over his with a vengeance. “Oh, Luc,” Brianna murmured for his ears alone. “Why troubadours? Any other circumstance would have been easier.”
“Do not laugh,” Luc counselled grimly.
“I shall try.” Brianna took a deep breath, and they faced the assembly together.
Only now did Luc spy Rowan, leaning against the far wall of the hall. Rowan lifted a hand and the foursome of jongleurs danced out onto the floor once more. One encouraged the assembly to clap in unison, another stood precariously on his hands. The rest of the troupe danced, clapped, and whistled.
The assembly leaned forward with curiosity. Several whispered their certainty that the jongleur would fall. A woman gasped when he not only balanced on his hands, but a second jongleur climbed atop the first. That one balanced his elbows on the knees of the first, then rolled to the same inverted position as the first.
The assembly was captivated.
Brianna gripped Luc’s fingers more tightly.
When the third jongleur climbed atop the other two, and made to echo the pose of the second, the assembly gasped as one. A good third of those gathered rose to their feet, certain the performers would tumble. The clapping grew louder and faster; the minstrels hastened the beat of their music. More than one stamped their feet and whistles echoed through the hall.
Brianna did not even seem to breathe.
The crowd roared as one when the third jongleur found his balance. They gasped as the human tower wavered, no doubt deliberately, then righted itself again.
And the fourth began to climb. He made a show of being the least talented of the lot, grimacing as though indecisive of where to step. The others contorted as he evidently chose wrong, those in the assembly shouted directions. He stepped on the groin of the second man, that jongleur’s exaggerated expression of pain launching more than one chuckle.
Luc did not dare to look at his princess. She caught her breath, his heart stopped as her shoulders shook, and then she was silent once more.
The dismay of the climbing jongleur coaxed yet more laughs from the others, though. He mocked losing his balance and noisily fell, grimaced and scratched his head. He ran around the tower, apparently frantic to see his goal achieved, then seized an aide from the assembly.
He chose Ruarke.
“Nay!” Brianna whispered unevenly. Luc held her hand firmly.
The knight smiled tolerantly, bowing low to Brianna as he allowed himself to be tugged on to the floor. The jongleur made a great show of acting out how Ruarke, being so much taller, could readily place him at the summit. Ruarke laughed easily. Then he plucked up the much smaller performer and made to bodily set him upon the stacked acrobats.
In the blink of an eye, the bottommost jongleur “stepped” a few feet away, those above him swaying slightly at the movement but holding their ground. ’Twas clear they anticipated the move. Luc leaned forward himself, amazed at how easily the jongleurs had managed the feat.
In that very moment, the last jongleur mocked Ruarke’s blackened eye, mimicking a great battle with his fists flying so quickly that ’twas hard to discern precisely where they were.
And Luc gasped along with the rest of the assembly as Ruarke, apparently distracted by the jongleur he held, put that smaller man down in the wrong place.
The jongleur wailed and snatched at the air. He kicked and apparently knocked at a critical shin in the human tower. The others shouted in mock dismay. The assembly cried out.
But Luc saw the last jongleur tug very hard on a string that seemed linked to Ruarke.
The entire group fell, tumbled bonelessly across the floor, and bounced to their feet in four opposing corners. They held their arms up for applause, then turned as one to salute Ruarke.
Ruarke blinked, obviously not certain what he had done to merit such a salute, just as his chausses fell around his boots.
The assembly roared with laughter, as much at Ruarke’s astonishment as his abruptly bare buttocks. Luc choked back his own and felt Brianna’s shoulders quake. She made a suspicious sound in her throat as though she fought against wayward laughter. Luc did not dare look at her face lest they take one look at each other and laugh aloud.
For the jongleurs had chosen their victim well. Ruarke, who clearly took great pride in his appearance, turned beet red and struggled for his chausses with such dismay that Luc could not keep a single chuckle from escaping his lips.
Brianna dug an elbow hard into his ribs and Luc fought to control his response.
’Twas clear enough what that string had been. Somehow, the crafty jongleur had untied Ruarke’s chausses while the knight was distracted.
Ruarke had retreated to one corner, his chausses safely over his buttocks again, but he had apparently just realized that the string was missing. He looked around himself most comically, obviously unaware that the entire hall watched his response.
Then Ruarke looked up and his lips drew to a thin line to find every eye upon him.
The bold jongleur taunted the knight from across the hall, flicking the string, much as one would tease a cat with a length of wool. He danced and cavorted, casting the cord at the knight as though daring him to lend pursuit.
His good humor spent, Ruarke roared in frustration and dove after the tormenting jongleur.
His chausses, of course, fell to his knees again. Ruarke stumbled, swore vehemently, tore off the offending garment, and lent chase in the buff.
“Saints above!” Brianna whispered unevenly. She bit her lip hard as though ’twas the only way to restrain herself. The very corners of her lips quirked and she clutched Luc’s fingers nigh tightly enough to break them.
The assembly howled as knight and jongleur toppled chairs and jumped across trestle tables. The rest of the troupe encouraged all to clap again. Women shouted lewd comments when they spied what lurked beneath Ruarke’s tabard and the man’s face grew yet more ruddy. He swore angrily and snatched at the man who made him look a fool.
The din in the hall was deafening as all of Tullymullagh laughed and laughed.
Except for one princess.
And the man behind her.
Finally, Ruarke laid claim to the tie from his chausses, though Luc suspected that only the presence of so many around him kept the knight from retaliating for his embarrassment. ’Twas clear Ruarke was angered beyond all.
The jongleur wiped his brow as though vastly relieved, then danced away unrepentant. Ruarke glowered and retreated from the hall, no doubt to see himself more suitably garbed. Luc braced himself for another humorous assault.
But Rowan stepped forward and bowed low before the dais. “Lady Brianna, I have tried to prompt your smile and clearly failed,” he declared gallantly. “May you yet find a man to prompt your laughter.”
’Twas only then that Luc realized whose wedding Ruarke would be attending.
For the lady had not laughed.
“But I already have,” Brianna declared with a smile for Luc alone. “ ’Twas Luc Fitzgavin who made me laugh both first and most.” Brianna held Luc’s gaze, her wondrous eyes blazing with triumph.
They had done it!
Luc hooted with laughter at their success, then swept his bride into his arms. He swung her high; the assembly clapped with delight. Brianna giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Luc held her tightly against his chest, savoring the pound of her heart against his own.
He had won the lady’s hand in truth!
Luc turned to confront the delighted occupants of the hall. “Thus ends the bride quest,” he declared proudly. “ ’Tis time enough that Tullymullagh witnessed a wedding.”
And the entire household cheered as one at the prospect of that.
Red wine had flowed with abandon since they returned from the chapel, and the dancing had been vigorous. Rowan’s troubadours had been persuaded to remain. The lady Brianna’s eyes sparkled with delight.
Luc had seized every opportunity to kiss his bride soundly. ’Twas still a most satisfactory means of surprising her and Luc heartily anticipated the prospect of surprising her yet more this night.
However, Brianna would surprise him once herself. Evidently her shyness was overcome by the wine, for when he kissed her yet again, she mimicked one of his moves and slid her tongue tentatively between his teeth.
Luc gasped, Brianna giggled against his lips. Desire coursed through Luc in a wave.
He lifted his head with a snap, knowing that if he continued their kiss all would have more entertainment than they deserved. Indeed, Luc thought he might burst his chausses.
Brianna flushed slightly when their kiss ended so abruptly, as though surprised by her own boldness, then playfully tapped the end of his nose.
“Blue eyes,” she teased.
Luc snorted. “Aye, and you know the import of that well enough,” he mused, glancing pointedly her way. Luc cleared his throat deliberately. “Tell me, do you not feel the need to retire as yet, my lady?”
Brianna’s eyes widened, her lips parted, and she leaned against him, her voice low. “Luc! We cannot leave yet! What will people think?”
“Only that all is right between us.” Luc grinned as he securely captured her hand in his own. Brianna smiled into his eyes and Luc nearly urged her again to consider the timing of their departure.
’Twas then that Gavin rose to his feet and clapped his hands for the assembly’s attention. Clearly, he did not win silence quickly enough for his taste, for Gavin let out a bellow that Luc knew was long perfected on the fields of battle.
The assembly fell restlessly quiet.
“And now,” roared Gavin as though he still called over the din of celebration. “And now comes the moment for which we have all waited. My son has wedded the princess of Tullymullagh—” there were cheers all around “—and ’tis time enough he earns the fruit of that match.”
Luc’s eyes narrowed, for he was suspicious of his father’s intent. To what fruit did Gavin refer?
Gavin, though, turned to Luc with a smile and beckoned. “Come, Luc of Llanvelyn, come and swear yourself to me. The seal of Tullymullagh must be granted to the spouse of Brianna, as pledged to her sire and King Henry of England.”
The seal of Tullymullagh? Luc blinked. He had never thought beyond making Brianna his wife, though now he felt a fool for forgetting such pertinent details. Indeed, lordship of such a grand estate was a step closer to the life Luc had left behind, and that, combined with the necessity of swearing fealty to Gavin, gave Luc pause.
“Luc! He means to grant you the seal already!” Brianna’s excitement with the prospect was more than clear.
His reservations were as naught in comparison to erasing Brianna’s concerns for Tullymullagh.
Luc squeezed Brianna’s fingers and rose to his feet with purpose. He crossed the floor, the assembly parting before him as they had done for all three brothers just a few weeks past. Luc dropped to one knee before his sire, as Gavin gestured to Uther. The steward hastened to Gavin’s side, a bulging pouch within his grip.
Luc folded his hands together and raised them to his father, the pose not unlike an attitude of prayer. Gavin’s toughened palms closed over those of his son. The two men’s gazes met and held, and the assembly was silent as Luc’s fealty was solemnly sworn.
Then Gavin bent, as was expected, and kissed his son on either cheek, grasping Luc’s hands and raising him to his feet once more. Gavin took the bundle from Uther and bestowed it with unexpected grace. ’Twas more bulky than Luc had expected and he fingered the contents in absent curiosity.
He realized there was not one but two seals within the bag.
Luc’s gaze flew to his father’s, that man’s smug smile telling Luc all he needed to know about the second seal.
“My word,” Gavin said silkily, “is not worth so little as some might believe.”
’Twas the seal of Llanvelyn Luc held in his grip! He did not need to look within the bag to know the truth. ’Twas exactly what he had come to Tullymullagh to make his own.
But, oddly enough, Luc felt no satisfaction in seeing his goal achieved. He realized that he had little interest in returning to Wales, though certainly he would see to his responsibilities.
But all Luc had ever desired was here, his entire future was here, within the walls of Tullymullagh.
Garbed in gold and green like a fairy queen.
Luc glanced back to Brianna’s shining eyes, his heart clenched, and he understood that the greater prize had been one he had never anticipated.
But the greatest prize of all would be the lady Brianna’s heart. Luc would waste no time in courting the lady’s affection.
Gavin snatched up his chalice in that very moment. “A drink!” he bellowed. “A drink to the health of the new Lord of Tullymullagh!”
A page offered a chalice for Luc and he lifted it high, deliberately holding Brianna’s regard. “Nay, we drink to the health of the Lady of Tullymullagh!” he cried and the assembly roared approval as their chalices rose high.
The solar was shrouded in mysterious shadows, the only light cast by a trio of flickering oil lanterns. The room seemed hushed in anticipation when the merrymakers abandoned the new couple with naught but their chemises and each other.
The pillared bed brooded in the corner, its linens freshly folded, its pillows plumped, its curtains tied back. Brianna eyed the bed, half certain it knew more of what would transpire here than she.
“Are you frightened?” Luc asked softly.
Brianna glanced back to find his arms folded across his chest, his eyes brilliant blue, his expression thoughtful. She forced a smile. “A little.”
Luc closed the distance between them with a single step. Just the heat of him so close beside her was reassuring. He lifted her hand in his, standing close but not touching her, ensuring that Brianna did not feel cornered by him.
“There is naught to fear,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into her palm. “We shall proceed slowly and you have but to say that we must stop.” Brianna watched him, breathless, and caught her breath when he glanced up suddenly. “Did your dame tell you of this?”
Brianna shook her head hastily.
Luc’s easy smile was soothing. “Then, I shall have to do so,” he said easily, nodding to the bed before Brianna could think of what to ask him. “ ’Twas your parents’ bed?”
“My mother’s pride.” Brianna smiled in recollection. “A nuptial gift from her sire. And oh, how the servants cursed it!”
“Why?”
“As the keep was constructed, it had to be moved. My mother would sleep nowhere else, my father would only sleep with her and he insisted upon sleeping in the finest chamber of the keep.”
Brianna’s smile widened. “First ’twas in the old hall, then in what is now the hall of this keep. Then onto the first floor, then finally, here.”
She met Luc’s gaze and her lips twisted. “ ’Twas said there was a merry celebration in the kitchens on the night my mother deemed its location in this room precisely right.”
“I can well imagine.” Luc chuckled and lifted strong hands to the pins in Brianna’s hair. He released her braid more gently than Fenella oft did and set to untying the lace. Brianna watched him as he worked, taking advantage of the moment to study his features etched golden in the light of the lantern.
“Your hair is long,” he mused. “You must not cut it often.”
“Nay.” Brianna shook her head. “Fenella trims the ends once in a while.” She watched Luc set the lace aside, his strong fingers making quick work of unfurling her braid. He spread her hair across his fingers and shook his head.
“The color of it is a marvel,” he whispered, flicking a glance her way. The admiration in his eyes stole Brianna’s breath away. “Look how it snares the light!” Luc spread her hair across his hands and Brianna looked in turn at the golden glints dancing within it. “I have never seen the like of it.”
“My mother’s was the same hue.”
A smile pulled the corner of Luc’s mouth and his steady gaze met Brianna’s own. “Then ’tis no wonder your sire was allured by first sight of her. Your hair looks to have snared the sunlight.”
Brianna blinked and felt herself flush. “Were you so allured?”
Luc grinned. “Aye,” he admitted, then sobered. “I had never seen the like of you, though ’twas the unexpectedness of your terms that caught my attention, not merely your flaxen tresses.”
Brianna’s heart pounded at this admission, her breath catching when Luc combed his fingers gently through her hair. “ ’Tis so very soft,” he whispered, his gaze falling suddenly to her lips. They tingled in recollection of his kisses, the heat simmering in his eyes making Brianna’s knees weak. “Is all of you so very soft, my lady?”
“I do not know,” she confessed breathlessly.
Luc bent and brushed his lips across her own. He paused a fingerspan away and arched his brow. “Soft,” he concluded, then kissed the tip of her nose. “Definitely soft.”
Brianna giggled at his whimsy, his lips moving across her cheek. “Very soft,” he murmured and she closed her eyes when his breath fanned her temple. “Ah! Perfectly soft.”
Luc’s hands fell on Brianna’s waist, his chest was before her. She took a deep breath, liking well the clean masculine scent of Luc’s skin. He nibbled on her ear and she gasped at the murmur of his words.
“Too soft to be wrought of flesh,” he whispered, then looked to her eyes again. “Could you truly be a fairy queen?”
Brianna laughed aloud, liking well that he took pains to reassure her. “Not I!”
“Good.” Luc feigned relief. “I would not want to awaken trapped in a barrow or some such dire fate.”
Brianna frowned, wanting to know more of what would transpire this night. She pleated the linen of Luc’s chemise with unsteady fingers, knowing that if she but asked the question, he would answer her honestly.
He waited in silent stillness, his heat close beside her, demanding naught.
“One hears whispers in chambers, Luc,” Brianna began, then her words faltered and she looked to his eyes, unable to hide her fear. “Will this hurt?”
Luc’s gaze was sombre. “Perhaps this once, perhaps twice or thrice.” He shook his head and ran fingertips along her jaw. “ ’Tis impossible to know in advance.” Brianna felt a shiver slide over her skin.
“But know this, my lady,” Luc continued, tipping her chin with gentle resolve. He bent toward her, his eyes gleaming, as though he would persuade her of all he said. “I shall endeavor that it does not hurt at all.”
Brianna managed a tremulous smile. “Do you pledge it to me?”
Luc grinned, but his eyes shone. “Aye! ’Tis pleasure we can give each other here and pleasure alone that has a place in this bed.” He leaned down to gently kiss her lips, his caress as light as a butterfly. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Brianna.”
Because she did trust him, because his very certainty was reassuring, Brianna did not hesitate. She slipped her arms around his neck and flicked a glance through her lashes to her husband. “I like when you say my name,” she confessed.
Luc grinned, his hands bracketing the back of her waist. “Who am I to decline your will?” he teased, then winked. “Brianna,” he whispered, his breath launching an army of tingles across her skin. Luc trailed kisses along Brianna’s jaw, punctuating each with her name.
He kissed her temple, her forehead, the tip of her nose, her very eyelids, as though he could not get enough of the taste of her flesh. Each kiss was marked with Luc’s murmur of her name. He was so gentle, so tender, his every touch awakened those tingles that Brianna had come to associate with him.
“But Luc, I do not know what to do,” Brianna protested.
“You have naught to do,” Luc whispered into her ear. He teased her lobe with the tip of his tongue and Brianna shivered in delight. “Naught to do, my Brianna, but enjoy.”
’Twould clearly be an easy task to fill. Luc traced circles on the back of her waist with his thumbs, he tormented her with tiny kisses everywhere but upon her lips. She ached to taste him again. She found her hands winding into the thickness of his hair, her nipples tightened when his breath fanned into her ear.
He eased her chemise from her shoulder, his path of kisses meandering along her shoulder, her collar bone, the hollow at the base of her throat. Brianna leaned back in the strength of his embrace as heat coursed through her. Luc’s hand rose from her waist to cup the fullness of her breast.
Brianna gasped, instinctively loving the sensation of his strength against her softness. He bent lower and kissed the curve of that breast, the heat of his mouth closing over her taut nipple. Brianna cried out at the passion that simple touch unfurled. She clutched the corded strength of Luc’s neck, she pressed kisses to his shoulder.
Just when she thought she could bear no more, Luc straightened. He merely uttered the words “soft indeed,” before claiming her lips.
Brianna surged against him, opening her mouth to his caress and surrendering all to his glorious touch. She was not certain precisely what ’twas she desired, but she knew that this man would grant it to her. Brianna kissed Luc as deeply as he kissed her. She deliberately copied the way he teased her with his tongue and was delighted when his embrace became more urgent.
Luc swept Brianna into his arms, never lifting his lips from hers and carried her to the bed. No sooner was Brianna stretched across the mattress, Luc long and lean beside her, than his fingers began to work the lace from her chemise. When her breasts were bare to the chill of the room, he lifted his lips from hers, his gaze smouldering as he glanced over her nudity.
Brianna raised her hand shyly to cover herself, but Luc captured it within his. He kissed her palm, his sapphire gaze meeting hers. “You are beautiful, my lady,” he whispered, his tone leaving no doubt of his sincerity. “More beautiful than any mere fairy queen.”
As she watched, Luc cupped her breast in the strength of his hand, sliding his thumb deliberately across the nipple. “Still fearful?” he asked, his gaze insistent.
Brianna shook her head. “I have never felt this way,” she admitted breathlessly.
Luc arched a brow, his eyes twinkling. “Dare I hope that is good?”
Brianna smiled. “Aye!”
Luc’s crooked grin warmed her to her toes. “Good.”
Then he bent and kissed her nipple again.
When his tongue began to work its magic there, Brianna was nigh certain she would swoon with delight. She arched with pleasure and cried out as Luc suckled and teased. He leisurely turned his attention to the other breast, lavishing his touch upon it in turn. Brianna had never felt aware of ever fiber of her being before.
Luc’s hand slipped below the hem of her chemise, as he lifted his head to taste her lips once more. The heat of his fingers rose, dancing along Brianna’s inner thighs with tantalizing slowness. She guessed his intent, remembering well how he had pleasured her thus before and parted her legs willingly.
And he touched her there once again, his teasing fingers awakening the heat within Brianna. He caressed and cajoled, he teased and toyed, he tempted her until she thought she could bear no more.
Brianna writhed beneath his embrace, but Luc granted her no quarter, driving the heat beneath her flesh to a crescendo, then demanding she climb yet more. Brianna twisted and turned and arched her back. She was certain she could bear no more.
But Luc persisted and the heat rose yet further. Brianna twisted anew, she writhed against the great bed. She knew she could not escape his teasing touch.
’Twas that certainty that drove her over the edge. Brianna cried out as the tide surged through her. She shouted Luc’s name and could not stop herself from trembling from head to toe.
Brianna opened her eyes to find her husband watching her, his strong arm wrapped beneath her shoulders as he leaned over her. Luc unable to hide his smile of satisfaction. “You were pleased?”
“You!” Brianna gasped, not even trying to disguise her pleasure. “ ’Twas even more than before!”
Luc chuckled. “Is that so?” he mused playfully. “Then, we must ensure you climb even higher the next time.”
Brianna giggled at his determination, then fell silent when he abruptly sat up. Luc doffed his chemise and cast it aside, the lantern light making the golden hue of his tan gleam.
She swallowed, unable to halt her curious survey. Luc seemed amused and Brianna felt herself flush. “I have never seen a man nude.”
“Then, look.” Luc paused, granting Brianna the opportunity to satisfy her curiosity, then slowly stretched out beside her again.
The sight of his lean strength sent a feminine thrill through Brianna. Luc was so differently wrought than she, all sinew and strength. She ran a hand over his shoulder and down to his elbow, intrigued that his flesh was so different from her own. Even the hair that graced his forearm was stiffer.
Emboldened by his patience, Brianna let her fingertips pass over his flat nipple and slide into the wiry pelt of dark hair upon his chest. She found his heartbeat, noted its accelerated pace, and looked to his eyes. Luc smiled encouragement, as though acknowledging her effect upon him.
Brianna found that most pleasing. She nibbled her lip and traced a path to Luc’s navel, where the hair tapered to a point, then looked beyond.
Her gaze danced back to meet the humor in Luc’s blue eyes. “Is it always like that?”
Luc shook his head solemnly. “Only when a certain princess kisses me,” he teased. He took her fingertips and placed them over his heartbeat once more. “This, too, quickens in her very presence.”
Brianna held his gaze for a long moment, vastly reassured that she was not the only one whose body reacted so strongly to another’s presence.
Then, still curious, she reached down and touched Luc’s erection tentatively. It rose beneath her touch and Brianna hastily drew her hand away.
Luc chuckled.
“ ’Tis not amusing. I have never seen the like before!” she protested, her cheeks flaming.
Luc grinned wickedly and rolled her to her back. “Ah,” he breathed, “the words every man longs to hear on his wedding night.”
And he captured Brianna’s lips with a kiss that swallowed her laughter. His erection nudged against her thigh and Brianna caught her breath in understanding of where that strength must go.
Aye, she had walked the pastures in the spring and had seen animals about their business.
But she trusted her spouse. Luc laced their fingers together and stretched Brianna’s arms over her head. He propped his weight up on his elbows, his chest a finger’s breadth from her own.
Then, Luc looked directly into Brianna’s eyes.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he counselled so solemnly that Brianna knew he would stop if she made the barest sound.
“I will.” Brianna felt Luc’s strength nudge against her. She held her breath, she braced for the worst.
But no more than a heartbeat later, she felt only a faint twinge. Luc’s heat slipped into her as though she was wrought for him alone. Brianna sighed with satisfaction as he surged to fill her completely.
“Brianna?”
Brianna smiled as she met the concern in Luc’s blue, blue eyes and stretched to press a kiss to his tightened jaw. “I am yours,” she whispered, unable to look away from his bright gaze. “All yours.”
Aye, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. Brianna was cossetted within the circle of her husband’s embrace. She was secure, she was safe, she was warm.
A shudder rippled through Luc’s muscles at her words, then he began to move with a powerful grace. The feeling was like no other, yet ’twas exhilarating beyond all. Brianna immediately sensed that this was the completion for which she had yearned.
Luc’s scent inundated her, his strength surrounded her, his hardness rubbed against the pearl he had awakened earlier. With surprising speed, Brianna felt her passion rising again. She lifted herself against Luc in silent demand and clutched his broad shoulders.
They moved together in perfect harmony, the heat rising between and within them. Yet again, Luc pushed Brianna further, yet again the heat fired through her veins.
Yet again, she tasted the very stars. Brianna called out just as Luc bellowed her name.
The heat of Luc’s seed spilled within her. She smiled at the featherlight kiss he bestowed upon her ear. And then, Brianna drifted to sleep as she had once before.
Brianna awakened with the strength of Luc pressed against her back. The chamber was darker, two of the lanterns gutted. She felt Luc’s erection against her buttocks and stretched languidly when his hand cupped her breast. Brianna could not help but arch against Luc’s strength when his hands roved over her and he chuckled against her ear.
“Tired?”
“Nay.”
Luc’s hand drifted lower and Brianna sighed with delight. “Sore?”
She smiled over her shoulder at him. “Nay.”
Luc’s slow smile melted her heart. “You are so tiny,” he mused. “I feared you would be hurt.”
Brianna lifted a hand to his jaw, wanting only to reassure him. “You were gentle, indeed.”
Their gazes met and held for a breathless moment, then Luc’s fingers danced down the length of Brianna once more. “You are overdressed,” he observed and Brianna could not help but chuckle at the tangle left of her chemise. She sat up, well aware of her husband’s appreciative gaze, pulled it over her head and cast it aside.
“Better?”
A gleam lit Luc’s eye and his brows rose in comic alarm. “Why, you still wear your stockings!” He clicked his tongue in a mimicry of Uther’s disapproval. “They will be ruined, my lady, if you wear them to bed.”
Brianna had but a moment to guess Luc’s intent before he dove for the foot of the bed. She gasped at the heat of his breath upon her thighs, then felt the brush of his teeth against her knees. Luc lifted her leg and took care to kiss the back of her knees most thoroughly.
“Luc!” His touch tickled mercilessly, even as it heated her flesh anew. When he untied her garters with his teeth, his eyes glinting dangerously all the while, Brianna shivered. Luc’s strong fingers eased down her stockings. The warmth of his palm slid over her skin in the wake of each stocking removed.
And those deliberate kisses heated Brianna once again. Luc sampled her calves, tasted her ankles, kissed each toe in turn. He caressed her instep, the firm sweep of his thumb there enough to make Brianna’s bones melt.
His hands lay claim to her knees, kisses and hands easing over her thighs, as he crawled back toward the pillows. Luc ran his tongue over Brianna, his teeth, his lips, and his fingertips, changing from one to the next so quickly and persuasively that Brianna was aware of naught but his touch.
She reached for him as Luc drew near the pillows but only caught the flash of his smile as he evaded her touch. Brianna frowned in confusion. She eyed the broad strength of Luc’s shoulders, the snow and ebony of his hair, and the deep sapphire of his eyes, then felt his hands lay claim to her buttocks.
Then, the wet heat of Luc’s tongue slipped through the nest at the apex of her thighs and laved the secret spot he had caressed once before.
Brianna lay back against the linens with a gasp, realizing she had much to learn of the pleasures they might share within this bed. She smiled, even as Luc awakened her passion, loving that her new spouse was so intent on ensuring she learned with all haste.