Page 213 of The Daughters of Avalon
Nude from the waist down, he was still clad in hissherte, but his leather gambeson had found its way into a bush, along with his trews and his boots.
She herself, remained fully dressed, but his hand was cupping her left breast, and her hair, disheveled from the night’s pursuits, lay draped over her face, sticking to her lips.
Stirring lazily, she watched as a bee alit upon a nearby blossom, then changed its mind, buzzing away, only to settle on another.
Wilhelm stirred, every so oft, pecking lazily at her nape, nuzzling his whiskered chin against her tender skin, tickling the flesh of her neck. For the very first time in so bloody long, everything was right with the world, and Seren couldn’t wait to share her joy with Rosalynde. She was no longer a maiden, butwhat did that matter? Should she have kept her virginity so her mother could sell it to the highest bidder? Or so Stephen could trade her for allegiances?
Nay.She was her own woman, no less so today than she was yesterday.
Freely choose, or choose to be free, the Goddess had ordained.
Well, she could choose both if she so wished, and yet… deep, deep down, she knew she didn’t want to be without Wilhelm. If only he would allow her to try, she would make him a good wife. How could such tragedy lead to such overwhelming joy?
Fate was, indeed, a fickle thing. How was it possible she could lose her heart to the very brother of her own betrothed?
It didn’t matter.
Blinking back happy tears, she watched the fat bee flit from blossom to blossom, suddenly joined by another. The two bees took turns with the stamens, and she smiled contentedly, certain that even bees longed for mates. It was a yearning that called from the depths of one’s soul.
In fact, she was so happy this morning that she daren’t acknowledge the whisper of a warning that threatened to darken her mood. Nothing could spoil this for her—nothing. If pain and suffering must exact tolls, so must joy.
At long last, she felt Wilhelm’s lashes flutter open. “Art awake?” he asked gruffly, his voice hoarse with sleep.
It was the most amazing sound Seren had ever heard—more musical than lyres or harps, far more delicious than tarts orcryspes, more pleasing than a swim in the brook on a bright summer day. “I am,” she said, burrowing her bottom deeper into the roost of his body, lest he so much as consider rising.
In answer, his hand slid across her belly, hooking her between the legs, and pulling her firmly against his naked form.“Mmmh,” he said. “I could wake this way for the rest of my days.”
Seren blushed, her body responding to his touch just so easily. Even as he fondled her intimately, she felt the heat of her desire begin anew, and, for the first time since her sister’s death—and so long before that—she felt a seed of true joy sprouting in her soul.
The truth was irrefutable: Wilhelm Fitz Richard was the love of her heart. She never, ever wished to abandon this glade. Even the bees and damselflies conspired to keep her, whizzing and buzzing a summer song to bewitch her.
“We cannot undo what we have done,” he said, his breath hot against her lobe, giving her a shiver, and when she opened her mouth to agree—and to reassure him—he squeezed her gently, and said, “Shhh... I’ve more to say.”
Seren nodded, very eager to hear it.
“I… I should have liked to have been a better man?—”
She opened her mouth once more to speak and he squeezed her to silence her, and said, “I am not done.”
But then, he fell silent for a long, long moment and Seren could feel his lashes fluttering closed as he contemplated how best to continue—and yet, if only he would allow her to speak, she was so sure she could set him at ease.
He should not feel guilty for what she so willingly pursued. She had known very well what would transpire the instant she lay down next to him.
She didn’t regret it for an instant.
Wilhelm sighed,hugging the woman whom destiny had placed into his arms—a woman of exquisite beauty, both inside and out. How, by the glory of God, he’d been so well favored, particularly at this trying time, he didn’t know. But, here she was, and if shewould allow it, he would attempt to provide for her in the way a good husband should provide for his wife. Alas, he didn’t quite know how to put that into words, and he was heartily afraid she might deny him. After all, he had naught to offer, not even a proper bed.
They had been traveling together so long, it was perhaps to be expected they would cleave to one another, but in truth, he should have known better than to pursue anything at a time when she was bound to be so vulnerable.
Later, when they arrived at Warkworth, it was entirely possible she would regret everything… and if she did, Wilhelm would not stand in her way. He could never dare constrain her to a promise he’d exacted in a moment of passion. She was worthy of someone better than him, and… Christ almighty… the more he considered it, the more he knew he was speaking out of turn.
Something like regret soured his gut, diminishing his ardor and softening his cock against her bottom.
What the bloody hell was he thinking?
Disgusted with himself, he huffed a sigh, and said nothing of the sort he’d intended to say. “I am not worthy of you,” he said, yanking the blanket up and over his lap, embarrassed now by his nudity, even despite that he’d never once suffered such an affliction in all his days.
Guilt colored his cheeks, and bloomed hotter when she spun to look at him with those haunting silver eyes—eyes that were somehow both happy and sad… and far too innocent.
