“It’s in the blood. A strange keenness and a deep, powerful awareness of the world around,” he suddenly found himself saying, and he lowered his eyes with a near blush.
Never in his life had he shared this with anyone, other than his father who'd had the same gift. And his father had sternly cautioned him of speaking of it to others. People would suspect it was witchcraft. Because once Arthen had taught himself the right way of it, he’d never once missed a target ever again. Because every time he took a shot, it was as if he became one with the arrow and keenly felt his gift as if he’d known it all his life. But now he’d shared this with his wife. With the wife who’d deceived and deserted him.
“Forget what I said,” he muttered artlessly. “I know it because I am a teacher."
Rowena looked at him with her wide blue eyes.
“But what you said before…”
“Just idle talk. Forget it.”
But she shook her head stubbornly.
“A gift then,” she muttered in a soft voice, casting him a searching glance. “I heard my nurse speak of such people. Though I thought they were only tales. Do you reckon that, as your son, Robin shares it?”
Arthen nodded, unable to lie. As Robin’s mother, she was entitled to know this. His own mother had died in childbirth, so he’d never had a mother to share this with. And ever since she’d come back, Rowena had acted like a mother to Robin, although she’d not behaved warmly to the child before.
“Who is this nurse you’re speaking of?” he asked in puzzlement recalling Rowena’s strange words.
Rowena cleared her throat.
“I’ve wanted to tell you of this for so long. You see… I’m other than you think I am.”
“You’ve changed indeed,” Arthen amended, dismissing her earlier strange talk of a nurse.
Within himself he had already resolved to heed Maggie’s advice and his own ardent impulse. He needed to let go of Rowena’s past in order to start afresh. Rowena herself seemed now in deep distress, staring at him with a pale face. Her distress could not be feigned, and it was plain she repented what she’d done. At this time, he did the only thing he could think of doing. He strode to her and took her hands in his.
“I wish for a fresh beginning. One in which… It would be like you’re a new woman I met and wish for my wife. A new marriage. Do you want that?” he told her, no longer bothering to disguise from his voice the maddening passion he felt for this woman.
“Aye. It is what I wish for most in this world. But…”
He shushed her with a kiss, knowing how very famished he was for her kisses. And nothing else seemed to matter in this world. He kissed her hard and ardently at first, until he left her breathless and clinging, but then he made his kisses gentle and teasing, loving the way she had begun to moan softly against his heated skin.
Arthen began to smile as he was kissing his wife's full lips understanding that all his anger against her had melted and he would not have it otherwise. He recalled the rough coupling they'd shared last night, and understood that, at this time, he wanted things between them gentle and sweet. It was strange. Before he'd brought Rowena back home, he'd never thought lovemaking between them could be sweet. But this new Rowenawas, he'd discovered, quite sweet at times, as she had never been before.
He cocked an eyebrow when she broke the kiss. His wife touched her lips and glanced at him coyly.
"We have the bedchamber to ourselves this night," she said and her voice sounded both shy and inviting.
"Robin's at Maggie's?" Arthen inquired, and she nodded, blushing slightly.
Trust Maggie to play the matchmaker, Arthen mused, as he clasped his wife's hand in his to lead her to the chamber. Yet soon all thoughts of others dissolved from his mind and he immersed himself in the rapture of touching and caressing his woman.
Although they'd coupledlast night, and Arthen had seen her naked before, Emma felt quite shy when Arthen's clever hands began to undo the laces of her gown. She took a deep breath, striving to tell herself she was not a skittish maiden on her wedding night. And she felt ashamed Arthen must have perceived her skittishness. Like so many times before, she resolved to undeceive him and tell him the full tale of how she'd come to be here. But at this time, Arthen's nimble fingers had already divested her of her gown, and she was left only in her linen shift as he lowered her gently on the bed. The next thing he did was rather unexpected, because he bent his head and nipped the tip of her breast through the thin fabric. It was not a brazen caress, but a soft, teasing one, and Emma felt both her nipples harden with want of him and her sex fill with heat.
Arthen seemed well aware of her need of him, but he appeared in no hurry to claim her. When he slowly raised thehem of her shift, Emma thought he would part her legs and thrust inside her, but he seemed to have other mischievous things upon his mind. He teased the scorched lips of her quim with his clever fingers, gazing intently into her eyes as he did so and perceiving the sheer, shameless hunger for him which lay mirrored there.
"Arthen," she whispered, loving the sound of his name on her lips just as his skilled fingers were bringing her to the brink of rapture.
But, cruelly, Arthen deprived her of her bliss, moving away the fingers which were now slick with the wetness of her. He licked them, and Emma blushed scarlet at his boldness.
"Close, wife..." he muttered. "But tonight I want us both to find release at the same time. Just as I am embedded inside you to the hilt."
He divested her of her shift soon after he spoke the words, bestowing upon her kisses and caresses Emma had never even known existed. She supposed he could well perceive how flushed and flustered she was, but he mischievously explored every inch of her, and Emma soon forgot to feel skittish of him and anxious of the words she knew needed to be spoken.
"Lily-white," he muttered teasingly as his long fingers traced the plump contours of her buttocks.
He suddenly bestowed a sharp smack on the crown of them, chuckling softly when she could not suppress a moan.