Judith gave up thinking. She was a mass of sensation—every feeling new and undreamed of. She pressed closer, running her hands over his back, feeling the way the muscles moved, so different from the smoothness of her own back. He began to kiss her ears, little nibbles on the lobes. Gavin gave a low, throaty chuckle when Judith’s knees turned to water and she collapsed against the strength of his arm behind her back. He bent, put his other arm beneath her knees, his mouth never leaving her neck, and carried her to the bed. He kissed her body from her forehead to her toes and Judith lay silent, only her senses alive.
Before long she could bear no more kissing. She ached all over, and she pulled his hair to better meet his mouth. She fastened on his lips hungrily, with greed.
Gavin’s senses, too, were reeling. Never had he had the leisure to make love to a woman as he did tonight, and never had he imagined the pleasure of it. Judith’s passion was as fierce as his own, yet neither rushed their lovemaking. When he moved atop her, her arms held him tightly, pulling him nearer. There was no pain for Judith this time; she was ready. She moved with him, slowly at first, until they exploded together joyously.
Eventually Judith fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, her leg thrown over Gavin’s, her hair twisted round and round his arm.
But Gavin did not fall asleep immediately. He knew that this was the first time for this soft woman he held, but in a way he felt as if he had just lost his virginity, too. And that was certainly an absurd idea. He could not possibly remember all the women he’d taken to his bed. But tonight was infinitely different. Never had he experienced such passion. With other women, when he felt his arousal at its height, they drew back. But not Judith. She had given as much as he gave.
He picked up a lock of her hair from across his neck and held it up, letting the firelight play though the strands. He held it to his nose, then to his lips. She moved against him and he snuggled closer. Even in sleep she wanted him nearby.
Gavin’s eyes grew heavy. For the first time he could ever remember, he was sated and content. Ah, but there was the morning. He smiled before he drifted asleep.
Jocelin Laing returned his lute to its leather case and gave a barely perceptible nod to the blonde lady before she left the room. There had been several offers that night from women to share their beds. The excitement of the wedding and especially of seeing the handsome couple undressed and put to bed had sent many people off to find pleasure of their own.
The singer was an especially handsome young man; hot, dark eyes under long, thick lashes; dark hair that waved away from perfect skin that stretched over high cheekbones.
“Busy tonight?” one of the other singers called, laughing.
Jocelin smiled as he fastened his lute case but did not answer.
“I envy a man with a bride such as that.” The other man nodded toward the stairs.
“Yes, she is beautiful,” Jocelin agreed. “But there are others.”
“Not like that one.” The man moved closer to his friend. “There are some of us meeting with a few of the brides’ women. You are welcome to come.”
“No,” Jocelin said quietly. “I cannot.”
The singer gave Jocelin a sly look, gathered his psaltery and left the great hall.
When the enormous room was quiet, the floor spread with hundreds of straw mats for the sleeping retainers and guests of lesser importance, Jocelin made his way upstairs. He wondered how the woman he went to meet could have arranged a private room. Alice Valence was not rich, and though her beauty had won her an earl’s ring, she was not one of the higher-born guests. On this night, when the castle was overflowing, only the bride and groom had a room alone. The other guests shared beds set out in the ladies’ solar or in the master bedroom. The beds were large—often eight-foot squares—and with the heavy curtains surrounding them, they seemed like individual chambers.
Jocelin had no trouble entering the room set aside for the unmarried women; several men had slipped through the door already. It was easy to see the bed curtains slip aside and glimpse the blonde. He went to her quickly. The sight of her filled him with desire. Alice held out her arms, hungry for him, almost violent in her passion and any attempt Jocelin made to prolong their pleasures met with resistance. She was like a storm, full of lightning and thunder.
When it was over, she did not want Jocelin to touch her. Always alert to a woman’s moods, he obeyed her unspoken wish. Never had he seen a woman who did not want to be held after lovemaking. He started to don his hastily discarded clothes.
“I will be married in a month,” she said quietly. “You will come to my husband’s castle then.”
He did not comment. They both knew he would be there; he just wondered how many other men she asked.
A single ray of sunshine came through the window, its heat tickling Judith’s nose. Sleepily, she brushed at it then tried to turn away but something held her by the hair. She lazily opened her eyes and saw the strange bed canopy overhead. When she remembered where she was, she felt her face grow hot. Even her body seemed to blush.
She moved her head toward the other side of the bed and looked at her sleeping husband. His lashes were short, thick and dark, a new growth of beard starting on his cheeks. Asleep, his cheekbones were not as sharp. Even the deep cleft in his chin seemed relaxed.
Gavi
n lay on his side, facing her and Judith let her eyes roam over him. His broad chest was liberally covered with dark, curling hair. The muscles made large, shapely mounds. His arms was capped by a round, firm muscle. Her eyes drew down to his hard, flat stomach. It was only after a moment that her eyes went lower. What she saw did not seem so powerful but as she watched, his manhood began to grow.
She gasped and her eyes flew back to his. He was awake, watching her, his eyes growing darker by the moment. No longer was he the relaxed boy-man she had awakened to, but a man of passion. Judith tried to move away but Gavin still held her trapped by her hair. What was worse, she did not truly want to resist. She remembered that she hated him; but more than that, she remembered her pleasure when he made love to her.
“Judith,” he whispered and the tone of his voice made chills run along her arms.
He kissed the corner of her mouth. Her hands pushed weakly against his shoulders but even at his slight touch, her eyes closed in surrender. He kissed her cheek, her earlobe. Then, as she gasped for breath, his mouth came down on hers. His tongue sweetly touched the tip of hers. She drew back, startled. He smiled at her as if he understood. Last night Judith thought she’d learned all there was to know about love between a man and a woman, but now she thought, perhaps she knew very, very little.
His eyes were smoky-gray as he pulled her to him again. He ran his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him and tasted of him. He was better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers. She had no idea of shyness. In truth, she had no ideas at all.
She ran her hands over him as he lowered his head to her neck, running his tongue along the pulse beat there. Instinctively she leaned her head back, her breathing deeper, quicker.