Bertrice Small - A Memory of Love

"You worry too much," he told her, and let his fingers caress the nape of her neck. "Do not fret, dearling. I will protect you."

"Hah! I may very well have to protect you," she laughed, and he chuckled at her sly observation, not in the least offended.

"If it comes to that, I will welcome your fighting skills, wife, but for now it is your other skills I prefer." His hand tightened on her neck, and tilting her head back, he kissed her hungrily. His mouth was hard. His lips scorched her lips, wet and hot and eager.

"Devil," she murmured when he finally took his mouth from hers. She twisted her body subtly, rubbing against him teasingly.

"Witch!" he returned, attempting to hold her still. But she was quicker than he was and squirmed from his grip, turning her body and steadying herself as she straddled his torso, her tempting little bottom facing him, revealing her sex to him with its little jewel that peeped from beneath the coral flesh. He groaned with pleasure as she leaned forward and took his manhood into her mouth. Bending, he offered her the same service, his tongue finding her sensitivity and working her fiercely until she cried out, releasing his aching member that now longed to bury itself within her.

"Oh, Rafe!" she sighed as she rolled herself onto her back and held out her arms to him.

Sliding between her legs, he entered her hot wet love channel, filling her completely, and then he lay still for a moment atop her. Her breasts were soft beneath his chest. Her torso was silken. He could feel her fingers tangling in his dark hair, kneading at his scalp with her anticipation. Raising himself slightly on one hand, he pushed a finger into her mouth, and she sucked at it so hard he thought she would swallow it. He withdrew slightly, and then thrust hard into her again, and she whimpered with her desire. How often in the months since she had given herself to him had she controlled their passion with her wonderful and varied sexual games? Tonight, however, he wanted to be in charge. Pushing himself up, he sat upon her thighs, his throbbing member deep within her body.

"Please!" she whispered.

"I am not ready," he said softly, his hands reaching out to fondle her sweet round breasts.

"You are as hard as rock within me!" she half sobbed.

"Aye, and I would remain that way for now. Was your master, the caliph, always in such a hurry, wife?" He moved subtly on her. "Old men are frequently in haste lest they lose their ardor." He gently squeezed the soft twin mounds.

"He… c-complained as do y-you. Oh, God, I want it!" she cried desperately.

He reached out and took her little jewel between his thumb and his forefinger, pinching the sensitive flesh until she was half mad with the pleasure he was arousing within her. "There, wife, you see what delights can be attained when you are not so damnably eager?" He covered her body again with his and began to piston her in earnest, his torso meeting hers with a fierce force until they were both mindless with their shared lust and moaning with their fulfillment. When his love juices had filled her, however, he remained within her body. His lips met hers with gentle passion, and they kissed and kissed until he was once again hard with his desire for her.

She had always held a little bit of herself back, but this night Rhonwyn could not restrain her own passions and yielded every bit of her love to him without question. She felt both weak and strong at the same time. He overwhelmed her with his hunger for her, and yet she felt freer than she had ever felt in all of her life, and she was not afraid. Wrapping her legs about him, she encouraged his ardor until they were both weak again and replete with pleasure. Then she wept in his arms with her happiness, and Rafe de Beaulieu understood what it was that Rhonwyn had finally given him.

His arms tightened about her, and his big hand smoothed the tangle of her golden hair as he made unintelligible soothing noises to comfort her. Finally he whispered to her, "Wife, do you not know how much I love you? I have told you often enough."

"There has never been a love as sweet as ours!" she sobbed. "I wish I had been a virgin for you, my darling! Oh, I do!"

Rafe laughed. "Thank God you were not, Rhonwyn mine. I far prefer your skills and expertise in the arts of love to artless innocence."

"Truly?" She looked into his face anxiously, and her lashes were spikey wet clumps.

"Truly!" He nodded. "Edward, I suspect, did little for you, but your caliph was obviously a man of sophistication. He overcame your fears and taught you well how to please a husband. I am grateful to him, my love, but I am also very jealous. Should you ever turn a lustful eye on any man but me, I will kill you with my bare hands!"

"Truly?" she teased, her look wide-eyed and ingenuous.

He swiftly turned her over and spanked her bottom a loving smack. "Truly, you provocative witch!" he told her as she squealed with her surprise. Then he gave her another spank for emphasis.

Rhonwyn rolled over. "Oh, I think I like that," she said wickedly. "Would you like to spank me again, husband? I can be very naughty, you know."

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss. "Woman, you are quite wicked enough as it is. Now, let us get some rest. If I am to be alert to your wild Welsh kin, then I must sleep." He yanked the coverlet over them, wrapping his arms about her and falling asleep almost immediately.

Rhonwyn snuggled against him, breathing in the male scent of him. A small smile touched her lips. I wonder, she thought, if it is right to be so damned happy? Then she closed her eyes and slept.

The summer came, and with it a messenger from Haven Castle telling them that the lady Katherine had been safely delivered of a second son. Rafe and Rhonwyn were asked to come to Haven to stand as Henry de Beaulieu's godparents.

"Bless your sister," Rhonwyn chuckled. "She will have peace within the de Beaulieu family in spite of Edward. For all his bluster she rules him with a firm hand. I wonder that we were chosen wee Henry's godparents. It was certainly not Edward's choice."

"But we will go and please Kate," Rafe said, "and you and Edward will not snipe at one another."

"Do not be jealous, husband," she replied, stroking his cheek with her hand. "How could I feel anything for Edward when I am so madly in love with you?" Then standing on tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss.

"Do not think to cajole me so easily, wife," he said. "I am wise to your clever ways, Rhonwyn." He shook a warning finger at her.

"And you love them all as you do me," she taunted him. "Do you not, Rafe?" She gave him another quick kiss.

He laughed. "You are impossible, wife," he told her.

"Would you have me any other way, husband?"

"Nay, I would not," he admitted.

Haven Castle was a two days' ride from Ardley. How odd it was to be returning there, Rhonwyn thought as they approached it. She remembered the first time she had seen Haven as she came with her father to marry Edward de Beaulieu. How impressed she had been by the beauty of the castle. How frightened, and yet how hopeful her innocent heart had been when she met Edward. She had never been like other girls by the very nature of her upbringing. When he had demanded his marital rights, and she had bargained with him to gain custody of Glynn, Edward had been angry. She suspected he had never forgiven her.

How shocked he had been by her skill with weapons. Why could he not, like Rafe, have appreciated her expertise with the alborium and the sword? Perhaps that was why he had been so ready to declare her dead when she had been captured by the infidels. Rhonwyn smiled wryly to herself. Poor Edward. Kate was the better wife for him, and Rhonwyn was certainly the best wife for Rafe. This would be the second time since her marriage to Rafe that they had come together as a family. It had not been a successful meeting last Martinmas.