CHAPTER TWENTY
“Lily?”
It was a hissed whisper coming from her door. Lily, exhausted from the events of the night, was just laying her head down when she heard the hiss again and realized that it wasn’t coming from her locked bedchamber door, but from the servant’s entrance near the hearth. A hidden door that led to the servant’s passage was open and an enormous, dark figure was entering.
Alarmed, she sat up. “Who –”
A soft hiss cut her off. “It is me,” Bentley whispered. “I am sorry to startle you, and Dash would be furious if he knew I was here, but… I had to come. I do not know if I shall see you before we depart and I had to see you before I go.”
Lily calmed rapidly when she realized who it was. Tossing off the coverlet, she rose to her feet. “I am glad you came,” she said. “Bella told me that many great men came to see Dash tonight but she did not tell me why. I can only guess from the actions in the bailey and what I heard in my father’s chamber that war is on the horizon.”
Bentley nodded, coming to stand at the end of her bed. “War, indeed,” he said. “John is moving through England and Scotland, destroying everything in his path. The rebels have allied with the French and we are going to Kent to rendezvous with their fleet.”
Lily’s eyes widened with fear. “The French?” she gasped. “And then what will you do?”
“Reclaim England from John and his mercenary army.”
Lily’s gaze lingered on him in the darkness for a moment as she processed that terrible scenario. “Then… you could be gone for a very long time.”
“Aye.”
With a faint sigh, she sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “Oh, Bentley,” she murmured. “This is terrible news. These wars could go on for years and years, now with France involved.”
Bentley took a few steps towards her, sitting down beside her on the bed. “It is possible,” he said. “It is equally possible that with French support, we can overcome John and his mercenaries once and for all.”
Lily looked up at him, the handsome lines of his face. “You will take great care, won’t you?” she asked. “I could not bear it if anything happened to you. I would not want to live.”
Although Bentley had no real intention of touching her when he’d come to say goodbye, his natural weakness for the woman caused him to reach up and cup her face with one of his big hands.
“Nothing will happen to me,” he assured her. “But even if it does, then know that my life on earth was something joyful because of my love for you. It is true that circumstances have not favored us, but the love I have for you will endure forever, Lily. You must honor that love by living every day as the proud, beautiful woman I know you to be.”
Lily’s eyes were filling with tears as he spoke. He was so noble, so strong, and her heart was breaking into a thousand little pieces at the thought of not seeing him again. But it was also breaking for another reason.
The child she carried.
Lily had vowed not to tell Bentley. As she’d told her sister, she felt this was her burden alone. But the more she looked at him, the more she realized that wasn’t true. He had a right to know. Perhaps it would help him endure these terrible battles looming on the horizon to know that his love with Lily had come to fruition. Perhaps, he could help her decide what to do now that Clayton was the duke and she was pregnant with another man’s child. Lily didn’t want to die at Clayton’s hand, and she didn’t want Bentley’s child to die.
Perhaps, at the moment, it was best to tell him everything.
“Before you go, I must tell you something,” she whispered. “I am not sure this is the right time, but I do not believe I will have another chance, so I must do this. Forgive me, Bent, but I have an enormous burden that I must share with you. I need your wisdom and guidance on the matter.”
Bentley looked at her seriously. “Of course,” he said. “You need not even ask. What is your trouble?”
This was the moment Lily had dreaded. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say, so she didn’t try. Instead, she stood up and removed her robe, leaving her clad only in a heavy sleeping shift that was voluminous enough to not show the outlines of her body.
“Give me your hands,” she murmured.
Bentley did, and Lily pressed them against her belly, which was a firm bump set within her pelvis. As soon as he realized her blossoming belly, a pregnancy, his eyes widened and he looked up at her with shock. Lily smiled weakly.
“It is your child,” she whispered. “I have not been with Clayton since late last year, so there is no possibility this child is his. Also, whenever he forced himself upon me, I had pessaries from the apothecary in Marlborough that were guaranteed to prevent conceiving a child. I used them every time because I did not want a child with him. But with you… I used nothing. This is the result.”
Bentley was clearly in shock. He kept his hands on her belly, finally moving his fingers so he could feel more of her belly. She wasn’t very big at all, but he could definitely feel the firmness of her womb.
“A… a child?” he finally muttered. “My child?”
Lily nodded. Watching the shock and reverence on his face warmed her soul, more than she could have ever imagined, but realizing what a terrible bind they were in caused the tears to fall.
“I was not going to tell you,” she wept quietly. “I was simply going to go away and have the child and not burden you with such a thing, but now… you are leaving for battle, Bent, and it is possible you will not return to me. I did not want you to go away not knowing of this life we have created together. No child was every conceived with such love. But Clayton is now the duke and he will know this child is not his. I do not know what to do. Please help me.”
The horror of the situation closed in on Bentley. She was absolutely right; Clayton would not be kind to her if he discovered this pregnancy. In fact, knowing the man, he could very well hurt both her and the child and call it justice. With that terrible thought, Bentley wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, his face buried in her belly as he held her tightly. Lily wrapped her arms around his head.
“Do not fret,” he told her fervently, feeling the woman he loved in his embrace, carrying a child they had conceived together. His child. Oh, God, he couldn’t let Clayton harm her! “Let us think through this calmly, Lily. All is not lost.”
Lily trusted him; she had to. In truth, it felt so good to share this burden with him, knowing he would think of something. He was brilliant that way.
Bentley released her from his embrace and sat her down beside him, holding her hands as he wiped away her tears.
“Clayton has been in the vault for the past two months, so he does not know about this pregnancy, nor will he,” he said firmly. “You have not visited him, have you?”
Lily shook his head. “Never.”
“Good.” He sighed, his mind working swiftly. “I think you said it best when you said that you needed to go away to have this child. If you remain here, there will be unfathomable consequences.”
“I know.”
Bentley began to think of all the places to send her, places where she would be safe, at least until she had the child and he could return for her. Truly, there was only one place he could think of.
“My father has a spinster sister who lives in Dorset, in a village called Weymouth,” he said. “It is by the sea. It is far enough away that no one would know you and my aunt would take great care of you and of the child.”
Lily liked the idea of going far away where no one would know her or question her. It was something she’d thought of before. “What will you tell your aunt?” she asked. “What I mean to say is what will you tell her about me? Who I am?”
“My wife,” Bentley said without hesitation. “I will tell her that you are my wife and our marriage was forbidden, so she must take the greatest care of you. She will understand. You can have the child in peace.”
It all sounded so wonderful and Lily was trying not to become too excited or relieved about it. “But what of Clayton?” she asked. “I cannot simply leave and not say anything. He may even suspect you are somehow involved. What if –”
Bentley shook his head, putting his fingers over her lips. “You can leave a missive telling him that you had to go away for your health,” he said. “He cannot possibly know the truth. When your health is restored, and the child born, you can return to Ramsbury.”
She frowned. “Without my baby? Bent, I will not leave my child behind.”
He was not surprised to hear that. In truth, he was glad. It meant she had more love for her child than her position as the Duchess of Savernake. Not that he ever doubted her, but it was still good to hear.
“You have two choices, as I see it,” he said quietly. “You can leave the child in Weymouth with a good family and return to Savernake to assume your position as duchess. Clayton never need known why you really went away.”
Lily’s expression was dark. “I do not like that choice,” she said. “What is the second choice?”
His gaze was intense. “You can remain in Weymouth with the child and I will ask Dash to release me from my oath to Savernake. I will join you there, and we shall live as man and wife for the rest of our lives.”
It was a surprising answer, but one that lit her up from inside. Her brave, noble knight was willing to surrender his entire life for her. Lily put her hand up, touching his face.
“Is it true?” she murmured. “You would give up your life for me?”
“You would give yours up for me.”
“It is true, but I am miserable in my life, Bent. It is easier for me to do it. But you… you have position and prestige with Savernake. That is asking a great deal for you to walk away from it.”
He smiled faintly. “You will let me worry about that,” he said. “Nothing is more important than being with you, Lily. You and our child. I would defy God himself for such a privilege.”
The matter, as far as Lily was concerned, was settled. She would rather give up a thousand dukedoms than spend one more day as Lady le Cairon. Living a lie as Lady Ashbourne was much more to her liking. Therefore, she kissed Bentley deeply and they fell back on the bed, enjoying the last few moments that they would share together for a very long time.
Clothing came off, falling silently to the floor, and when Bentley finally joined his body with hers, it was with great tenderness and longing. It was engrained into their very souls that they would be together, forever, come what may.
Clayton or no Clayton, dukedom or no dukedom, nothing could ever separate them.
When Belladonna should have been sleeping, she found that she couldn’t.
It was late, so late that she had no idea what time it really was. She thought it might have been sometime after midnight, but one would have never known by the activity in the bailey.
The entire area was lit up with torches, giving the vast grounds of Ramsbury Castle an eerie glow. Men were moving about in the bailey below and she could watch them from her window. She could see Dashiell, her husband, as he went about his tasks that needed to be completed, which mostly included yelling orders at men who needed to complete their own work. She could see the other great knights moving in the darkness, taking care of tasks that Dashiell had asked of them.
In all, she’d never seen Ramsbury so busy, and most especially in the middle of the night. The great army, which hadn’t seen any activity for the past couple of months, was being assembled and the gatehouse was open as they spilled out into the land beyond because the bailey was getting so full.
Belladonna knew that several powerful men had arrived that evening, the Archbishop of Canterbury included, but what she didn’t realize was that Christopher de Lohr had brought his mighty army from Lioncross Abbey Castle, merging it with Marcus Burton’s Somerhill army near Cirencester, and then with Gart Forbes’ troops from Dunstan Castle as soon as they entered Marlborough.
It made for a massive amalgam of manpower. At the moment, an army of about five thousand men was encamped outside the walls of Ramsbury and the smoke from hundreds of cooking fires mingled with the storm, which was intermittent throughout the night.
But Belladonna couldn’t think about armies or men, or great knights or battles at the moment. All she could think about was Dashiell and that she was spending her wedding night watching him pull together the Savernake army so they could depart on the morrow.
It was difficult not to feel sorrow at that.
Dashiell had told her he would return to her at some point during the night, and she waited with excited nervousness for that moment. It was all happening so fast and she was struggling to keep her wits about her.
After the wedding, which seemed to pass in a blur, Dashiell had taken her up to her chamber, leaving her with a kiss and a promise that he would return. Belladonna went into her chamber and, with the help of a pair of maids, built a roaring blaze in her hearth and selected a lovely dressing gown to await her husband in.
She still couldn’t believe that she and Dashiell were finally married. She’d dreamed of it for so long that now that it had happened, it seemed wholly surreal. But that could describe her entire relationship with Dashiell – she’d pined away for the man for so long that when they actually did declare their mutual affection, everything seemed to happen with lightning speed.
But she couldn’t have been happier. As far as she was concerned, her dreams had come true, and tonight was the night she and Dashiell would know each other as husband and wife.
Since her mother had died when she was young, it had been Lily who had informed her of the ways between men and women. Curiosity had driven Belladonna to ask questions that Lily was too embarrassed to answer, so she often found herself asking questions of the older serving women, including the cook. She knew how dogs mated, for she had seen it before, especially when Dashiell and Bentley and Aston were breeding their hunting dogs. She’d often watched before Dashiell had chased her away, angry that a young maiden should be so interested in breeding dogs.
The thought made her grin.
Therefore, she knew more than most young virgins about the mating of men and women, or at least the general idea of it, but other than several passionate kisses from Dashiell, she hadn’t experienced any pleasures of the flesh and Dashiell had never pushed himself on her. He was too much of a gentleman for that.
But tonight, things would change.
Belladonna very much wanted to know Dashiell as a woman knows a man. She wanted to feel his hands on her, his muscular body against his. She wanted to be as close to him as she possibly could, and the mere thought was enough to set her heart to fluttering. She could only hope he would feel the same way.
Something told her that he would.
So, she prepared for him. She bathed in rosewater and rubbed her skin with oil that smelled of flowers. It made her skin soft and moist. She also set out water for Dashiell to wash in when he arrived, thinking that he might want to do such a thing before he touched her. Wouldn’t he want to wash the stink of the men and horses off of him? She thought so, anyway. She hoped he didn’t think she’d put out the water and soap because she thought he smelled badly.
That wouldn’t be any way to start off their married life together.
With everything set out, she waited. And waited. As the night continued on, past midnight and into the early morning hours, Belladonna remained standing by the window, hoping for a glimpse of her husband now and again. He’d told the men at their wedding that he intended to be occupied with his wife on this night, but it was clear he had duties that were more pressing than even she was. But she wasn’t offended by it. She knew he would come to her when he could.
At some point, Belladonna moved away from the window because it began to rain again. Closing the oiled cloth covering, she went to sit by the fire and wait out her husband. But the night dragged on and Belladonna was more tired than she realized. She must have fallen asleep because when next she was aware, it was to Dashiell’s soft voice in her ear.
“Come along, lamb,” he said as he bent over and scooped her up out of the chair. “To bed with us both.”
Sleepy, she yawned in his face. “I did not realize I had fallen asleep,” she said. “I was waiting for you.”
He smiled as he deposited her onto the bed, the same bed she’d slept in since she was a child. It was big and comfortable, and more than enough for the two of them.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting,” he said as he began pulling off his gloves. “We are mobilizing an army in a very short amount of time, so there is much to do.”
Belladonna lay down on the bed, desperately trying not to fall asleep again. “It is fortunate that your cousins are here to help you.”
Gloves tossed aside, he unfastened his belt, laying it carefully on the back of a chair. Removing his broadsword from its sheath, he went to prop it up on the wall next to the head of the bed.
“Indeed, I am,” he agreed. “They have many men with them who have also been a great help. But let us not speak of them tonight. I will be dealing with them for the foreseeable future so, at this moment, I only wish to speak of us, Lady du Reims.”
Belladonna grinned, a sleepy gesture. “I never thought I would hear that name where it pertained to me.”
“Nor I,” he admitted as he untied his tunic.
“When did you know?”
He eyed her as he removed his hauberk and damp tunic, heading to the hearth to lay them out to dry. “Shall I be honest?”
“Please.”
“The day we went to Marlborough those months ago. Do you recall? You were so angry at me that you told me not to speak to you.”
Belladonna laughed softly. “I remember.”
“That was the day I knew I would marry you.”
“But how? I would not even let you speak to me.”
“I will tell you, but you must promise not to become angry.”
“I promise.”
He didn’t reply for a moment as he continued undressing. He wasn’t wearing all of his protection on this night, only pieces of it, so the mail coat came off after the tunic. Having dressed himself for so many years, all he did was bend over slightly, pull out the arms, and he was able to get it over his head. That, too, ended up by the hearth, over a chair so it could dry out.
“When we were riding into the town, Lily came to speak to me,” he finally said. “I do not know if you remember this, but she did. During the course of the conversation, she told me you were in love with me. Once I knew that, it was easier for me to pursue you.”
Belladonna did, indeed, remember that trip into town, and she remembered clearly when Lily had ridden to the front of their escort to talk to Dashiell.
“She told you that?” she said, sitting up in bed. “Then she lied to me. I asked her what she had spoken of, and she gave me some silly answer. She never told me she said such things to you!”
He gave her a half-grin as he pulled off his undertunic, a heavily-padded tunic that was sticky with sweat. When it came off, the only thing he had left was a thin linen tunic underneath.
“She told me you were in love with me and if my feelings were the same, then I had better make them clear. So, I did.” Belladonna scowled at him, but he held up a finger to her. “You promised you would not get mad.”
She had. Frustrated, she lay back down on the bed. “Just wait until I see Lily again.”
“What are you going to say to her?”
“I do not know yet, but it will be terrible.”
He laughed softly and pulled off the thin tunic, the last layer between his flesh and the open air. “Do not berate her too much,” he said as he moved to the water in the basin that she had set out for him. “Were it not for her, I would still be hiding in fear of my feelings for you, so you can thank her for what she did.”
Once he pulled his tunic off, Belladonna forgot all about her meddling sister. The firelight was glistening off of his muscular form as she lay there and watched him wash his hands and arms. In truth, in all the years she had known him, she had never seen him naked from the waist up, so it was something of an eye-opening experience.
He was absolutely magnificent.
He had big, muscular arms, so firm and tight that she could see the veins running through them. His shoulders were very broad, his neck and chest defined and as muscular as the rest of him. He had a soft matting of hair on his chest, something she thought rather alluring, and when he turned to dry off his skin, she could see scars on his arms and torso, but they did not take away from all of that male beauty.
“You have scars,” she said, rather dreamily. “You have been fighting battles for as long as I have known you, but I have never seen your scars.”
He glanced up at her as he washed off his face. “I have many,” he said. “But I was certainly not going to show them to you.”
“Why not?”
“Because that would have been unseemly and improper.”
“But they are just scars.”
He eyed her. “You do not seem to have any concept of how a man behaves around a maiden he is not betrothed to because we have had this conversation before, many times.”
“I know.”
“You even became angry with me for it, somehow thinking that I did not wish to be seen with you.”
“You are my husband now. You have to show me everything, improper or not.”
He froze in the midst of drying off his face, casting her a long look. When he resumed drying, he was fighting off a grin.
“You,” he said slowly, “are bold and reckless, Lady du Reims. I could never say this before, but I can now – I like it. I like it when you are bold and reckless with me.”
She laughed, laying on her side and watching him as he finished washing his torso and drying off. When he finally tossed the linen towel aside, he made his way towards the bed where she was laying. There was something soft in his expression as he gazed down at her.
“I wish we had more time for this,” he said quietly. “I wish we had all of the time in the world but, alas, we do not. We must consummate this marriage and then I must leave. It hurts my heart to even say it.”
Belladonna’s expression was full of longing and sadness as she looked up at him. Scooting over on the mattress, she patted the bed beside her.
“Lay with me,” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. He was in his dirty breeches, however, and didn’t want to bring that filth onto their marriage bed, so he quickly pulled off his boots, untied the top of his breeches, and slid them right off his body.
Shocked at the speed in which the man stripped off his clothing, Belladonna realized he was nude but the firelight was behind him, so she couldn’t really see much of the front of him as he climbed into bed, pulling the coverlet up over them. His arms went around her, and a leg draped over her hips, pulling her as close to him as he possibly could.
“You have no idea how long I have waited for this,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “It does not seem possible, yet here we are. You are my wife. I have never been prouder of anything in my life.”
Belladonna snuggled against him, her cheek to his naked chest for the first time. He smelled of the pine soap she’d put out for him, his flesh soft and warm. It was heaven. It was everything she’d ever hoped it would be and more.
“This is our moment, Dash,” she whispered. “Whatever comes, whatever our future holds, I will remember this moment as the most beautiful moment of our lives. The moment when I became yours, and you became mine. But I think that, somehow, I have always belonged to you. There has never been another man for me and there never will be. Only you.”
His answer was to kiss her, long and hard and deep. The more he suckled, the more aroused he became, his hands in her hair as he inhaled and breathed and tasted everything about her. She smelled sweet, like flowers, and when she rolled onto her back, he ended up in the dominant position on top of her.
Nothing had ever felt more right in his life.
It was dark beneath the coverlet as his hands moved aside her robe, untying the sash and pulling it open. When their naked flesh touched, he groaned with pleasure, savoring the moment as his manhood throbbed to life. He wanted to take his time with her, to savor every touch and every kiss but, at this moment, the consummation was more of a statement than an act of passion – he had to claim her in every way, to mark her with his seed, so Clayton could never again use her as a bargaining pawn. As of this night, she was Lady du Reims, the future Countess of East Anglia, and he needed to ensure that nothing could ever change that.
She was virginal and delicate and soft. Just like brand new snow, pristine and white, and he would be the first and only man to touch it. He ran his hand up her torso, feeling her silken flesh and experiencing more lust than he ever knew possible. She seemed to purr like a kitten when he kissed her, and his kisses moved down her neck, to her shoulder, and down her chest. Belladonna seemed comfortable with everything until his hot, wet mouth closed in over a tender nipple. Then, she bucked as he suckled her furiously, a big arm wrapping around her as her body to still her movements.
He could feel Belladonna trying to pull away from him, perhaps startled by this intimate new experience, but he held her fast, nursing on her tender breasts, running his tongue over flesh that tasted like flowers. Dashiell could feel her hands at his head, her fingers winding into his thick auburn hair. Truly, he had her exactly where he wanted and he wasn’t about to let go.
He moved on.
His free hand moved to the tender core between her legs and she gasped with surprise when he wedged his big body in between her legs and fingered the dark curls. She was wet, her body already preparing to receive him, and the realization had his heart pounding and his erection as hard as it had ever been.
Tenderly, he stroked her virginal lips, all the while either nursing at her breasts or kissing her belly as he tried to ease whatever nerves she might have. But it seemed to him that she was not only relaxing beneath him, she was enjoying it. The more he stroked her pink, wet folds, the more her hips would thrust forward as if trying to capture that searching finger.
Therefore, he inserted a finger into her to satisfy that hunger her body seemed to be experiencing, the inherent need to feel a man between her legs. Belladonna gasped at the intrusion, groaning softly as he thrust in and out of her, mimicking the lovemaking they would soon be making.
But Dashiell would not delay any longer; he needed his manhood inside of her in the worst way. He had to consummate this marriage and satisfy that part of him that saw this as a necessary duty. Duty! God, no… it was his pleasure. His fingers were still in her as he tossed the coverlet back, exposing them both to the cold night air.
Now, he could see her beautiful body bathed in the firelight. She was full of breast, slender of waist, and her legs were parted to receive him. Very quickly, he removed his fingers and placed his erection at her threshold, coiling his buttocks and thrusting into her. With that action, she naturally started to tighten in fear. He could feel it. Kissing her gently and whispering words of encouragement, he coiled his buttocks again, thrusting hard this time. He felt her maiden’s barrier break as he gathered her up into his arms.
Beneath him, Belladonna was impaled on his big body, perhaps the most shocking and wonderfully powerful sensation she had ever known. Instinctively, she wound her arms around his neck as he thrust into her warm and wet folds. There was some pain at the first, but he was moving inside of her powerfully as her body accepted him, and the pain soon vanished.
All Belladonna could do was hang on to him and experience something she had waited all of her life for, finally belonging to Dashiell in every sense of the word. His skillful movements were creating something of a fire in her, something that seemed to be sparking low in her belly. Every time he thrust into her and pushed his pelvis against hers, the fire grew.
Dashiell knew what he was doing, building a fire in her loins that was growing to a fevered intensity. When her first climax came, she screamed out as much in surprise as in pleasure, and Dashiell put his mouth over hers to suck in all that pleasure to feed his own. It spoke to the very core of his manhood, experiencing something so powerful with the woman he loved. He could feel her tremors around his manhood, milking at him and demanding his seed, and he held out as long as he could.
It was truly something to behold.
But soon enough, he succumbed to the bone-jarring passion he was feeling for her and he released himself deep, imaging that his seed would find its mark on this night. A son from Belladonna would be the greatest gift he could possibly imagine. In fact, his release was so powerful that he bit his lower lip from the sheer pleasure of it.
He could taste his own blood.
Several long moments passed with only the sounds of heavy breathing in the chamber. Flat on her back on the mattress, Belladonna was pinned beneath Dashiell, but it was with the utmost pleasure. Her arms were around him, and his arms were around her, and nothing was more important than this moment in time.
It was what she had wished for, as long as she could remember, and finally, her wish was a reality. It was such a beautiful moment that it brought tears to her eyes and when Dashiell pulled back to look at her, he saw tears streaming down her temples.
“Bella?” he asked, greatly concerned. “Are you well, lamb? Did I hurt you?”
She smiled at him through her tears. “You did not hurt me,” she whispered. “I am fine. I am simply overcome with the beauty of the moment. I love you, Dash, more than the heavens love the stars.”
He smiled in return, kissing her nose, her cheek, and finally her lips. “And I love you,” he murmured against her mouth. “You are my heart, Bella. Without you, I cannot live, nor can I breathe. You are what beats inside of me. I consider myself the most fortunate man who has ever lived.”
Belladonna reached up, running her fingers through his thick hair. She was looking at him, drinking in his face, memorizing it for the months of separation to come. A finger moved over his bristly mustache, something that was so iconic with him.
“I wish you did not have to go,” she murmured.
“As do I.”
“Can I come with you?”
He smiled faintly. “I will put you with the infantry if you do. You can fight with the best of them.”
She giggled. “I would rather stay in your tent and cook and clean for you. I could wash your clothes and make sure you are rested.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “If you come with me, I will most definitely not be rested. I will spend all of my time just as we are now.”
It was a kind way of telling her she could not go with him. He wasn’t sure if she was serious or not, but better not to encourage it. He didn’t want to spend his last hour with her denying her wishes as she begged.
Belladonna sensed that and, in truth, she wasn’t entirely serious with her request. But she missed him already.
“Then I shall wait for you here,” she said. “I shall watch the horizon every day for your return. Not a moment will go by without me thinking of you and wishing you were with me.”
He shifted so that he was lying beside her, facing her in the weak light of the room. “As will I,” he said, putting a big hand on her head and stroking her hair. “But I shall also look towards our future with hope and joy. You and I have a great life to live, together.”
Belladonna was feeling content and sleepy after their coupling, but trying desperately to stay awake. She didn’t want to relinquish one moment to something as ordinary as sleep. Laying her head against his chest as he wrapped his big arms around her, she sighed with satisfaction.
“Tell me of your father,” she said. “I have never met him, you know. Do you think he will like me?”
Dashiell grinned as he thought of his father, the mighty and powerful Talus du Reims. He was a warrior, from a long line of warriors, a gruff man with a heart of gold.
“He will love you,” he said confidently. “My mother passed on years ago, but my grandmother is still alive. She is extremely old but the last I saw her, she still retained her mind. Her name is Cantia and I adore her.”
“Cantia? That is a lovely name,” she said. “Does she live with your father?”
“She does. You will love her, too. In fact, my entire family will adore you, so you needn’t worry. But I do have a confession.”
“What?”
He sighed heavily. “I told you that I have younger brothers,” he said. “Laurent is two years younger than I, and Torsten is the youngest. They are both married and, the last I heard, they had nothing but daughters between them. That means it is up to you to produce a son.”
She snorted. “Must we speak of this already?”
“Probably not, but I suppose I should tell you now rather than later.”
Belladonna started to laugh. “I have been told the ways of men and women, but no one has told me how I should force my body to have a son over a daughter.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.”
Dashiell grinned as his arms tightened around her. Already, he could feel himself growing hard again, his body electrified by the woman in his arms.
“I think it all has to do with how many times I can bed you in a night,” he said seductively. “The more I bed you, the more chances there are of us having a son.”
She craned her neck back, giving him such a disbelieving expression that he burst out into soft laughter.
“I think you are simply trying to take advantage of me, sir,” she said.
He rolled over her, his big body on top of her once again as his mouth latched on to her tender earlobe.
“I would never do that,” he murmured.
Belladonna giggled and gasped as he suckled on her earlobe and, soon enough, he was acquainting himself with her tender body yet again, gently taking his wife a second time.
It was the best night of their lives.