His Captive, His Conquest by Ashe Barker
Chapter Nineteen
He has never looked more handsome.
Flora could not help but smile as she walked beside Katherine to join the small group assembled at the door to the church. Stephen waited for her there, splendid as ever, if a little dishevelled. He offered her his sensual grin when their eyes met.
I shall be his wife. In just a few minutes’ time, I shall be the Marchioness of Otterburn.
Beside Stephen, her brother cut an equally impressive figure in his finest clothes. Robbie had even had his hair trimmed in honour of the occasion.
Flora spared a sideways glance at Katherine, who walked in silence beside her, her head bowed.
“It will be all right. I know it,” she whispered. “Robbie is a good man.”
Katherine conjured up a less than convincing smile. “I know that.”
The rest of the wedding party consisted of the Duke and Duchess of Whitleigh and their offspring, Matilda and Charles with baby Charlie, and of course, Alister who was currently asleep in his father’s arms. Stephen passed the infant to Richard as the two brides drew near and held out his hand to Flora.
She laced her fingers with his and took her place beside him, aware that Robbie and Katherine had taken up their positions on Stephen’s other side.
The priest, Father Ambrose, emerged from within the church to raise his hands in the time-honoured blessing. The wedding group fell silent.
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Flora heard the words of the priest, the prayers and holy incantations which would join her forever to the man at her side, but barely registered them. Even so, she managed to make her responses at the requisite moments. Stephen made his vows in that quiet but authoritative tone she had come to know. In barely the blink of an eye, or so it seemed, Father Ambrose declared that she and Stephen were man and wife, bound by God and never to be put asunder.
“Ego conjugo vos in matrimonio, in nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
The same affirmation was made for Katherine and Robbie, then the priest turned and walked sedately back into the cool, dim church.
The wedding party followed, the guests taking their seats along with the rest of the villagers and assorted MacKinnons who had been waiting within. The two couples knelt before the altar. Father Ambrose stood before them, his arms raised once more.
“Per Dominum nostrum Jesum Christum Filius tuum, qui tecum vivia et regnat in unitate Spiritus Sancti….”
Flora closed her eyes and let the familiar but incomprehensible words wash over her. The brutal regime at St Mary’s had done nothing to deepen her spiritual connection to the Almighty, but she still found a certain comfort and peace in worship. Her faith was ingrained upon her soul, and she had never felt more blessed than she did this day.
Flora returned to the keep perched before her new husband on his mighty war horse. He bent to kiss her neck.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are, my love?”
“Not today, my lord.” Flora smiled up at him. “I am so happy. Who would have thought that day you came to Byrness, that we would end up here?”
“Who indeed? Do you still regret biting me?”
She sniffed. “I never said I regretted it. I may have apologised, when confronted by the prospect of a switching, but—”
“Hush, Flora, or you could earn yourself another such encounter.”
She sent him an affronted glare. “You would not. Not on our wedding day.”
“Did you not just swear before Almighty God to love, honour, and obey me? Must I remind you so soon of your promises?”
“And did you not just promise to worship me with your body?”
“I do not think those were the words, exactly, though the sentiment is much the same. I have every intention of keeping my vow. Do you suppose Frances would agree to take care of Alister for us for a while?”
She dug her elbow into his ribs. “We have guests, and a wedding breakfast laid out in readiness for us. It would not be seemly to slope off to our chamber.”
“I am sure your brother will be able to keep our guests entertained in our absence.”
Flora peeped around Stephen. Robbie, mounted upon his own stallion, with Katherine seated before him in the saddle, followed a few paces behind them. He leaned down to murmur something in his new bride’s ear, and Katherine’s features reddened.
“He may be keen to consummate his own union…” Flora suggested.
Stephen muttered something she did not quite catch.
“I beg your pardon, my lord?”
“Nothing. We shall spend one hour at the wedding breakfast, and that is it. Then, we make our excuses and leave Alister with Frances.”
“Just as you like, my lord.” Flora smiled to herself. Married life had much to commend it.
Elborne Castle, North of England
September 1491
“My lady.”
Flora stepped down from the stool upon which she had been standing to count how many blocks of soap remained in their storerooms. It was necessary to conduct a thorough inventory of supplies in advance of the coming winter months. She was determined to accomplish the task with the quiet efficiency Elborne had been accustomed to seeing under Katherine’s management. It should not be too difficult. After all, had she not run her father’s household for the last several years?
She swiped the dust from her hands and regarded the young maidservant who had interrupted her. “Yes, Bessie? Is there a problem?”
“Begging your pardon, my lady. His lordship has asked if you would join him in his solar, at your earliest convenience.”
“Oh? Did he say why?”
The girl shook her head.
“I see. Thank you.”
The girl scurried off, and Flora untied the pinafore she had pulled on to protect her tunic from the dust and cobwebs which festooned the cellars of the keep. She would return to the task later, but in truth, she welcomed the interruption. The awful nausea which had blighted the early weeks of her previous pregnancy had been absent this time, but she still tired easily and her back had started to ache.
She made her way up the three flights of narrow stairs to the floor where the chamber she shared with Stephen was located, as well as the private solar where he received his visitors and conducted business. She tapped on the door, then entered.
Her husband of just three and a half months set aside his quill and leaned back in his chair. His expression was stern. Clearly, something had displeased him.
She seated herself opposite her marquis and smiled. “My lord? Is there something I can help you with?”
“There is. You may assist me greatly by explaining to me, why, in the name of all that is holy, when I enquire as to your whereabouts, I am informed that you are to be found scrambling about in the storerooms and hefting sacks of grain.”
“I was not hefting grain, Stephen. I merely moved a sack in order to see what was behind it. The inventory—”
He husband uttered a string of expletives. Flora opted for silence. The gist of his tirade seemed to be that he did not approve of her exerting herself unduly, given her present delicate condition.
“You are not at St Mary’s now,” he concluded. “I expect my wife to take her ease at such a time. Allow others to conduct an inventory if it must be done. You need to rest.”
“I am perfectly well, Stephen. I have much to occupy me, and it is my responsibility to manage this house. Now that Katherine is no longer here, I—”
“It gladdens me to hear of your rude good health. I intend to ensure that you continue to thrive, and our baby also. Perhaps I should confine you to our chamber until he is born.”
“No. You cannot do such a thing.”
His smile was deceptively calm. “You think not? Must I remind you that I have done so before?”
“That was different. I am your wife now, and—”
“Love, honour, and obey,” he informed her. “I shall have your obedience in this matter, Flora, one way or another.”
“But…”
“One way or another, sweetheart.” His tone softened. “You know that I am firm in this matter only because I care for you.”
“I do know that.” She studied her hands, folded in her lap. “And I am sorry.”
“We have a houseful of servants. Let them do the fetching and carrying. Direct their efforts, by all means, but if you lift anything heavier than your needle in the coming months, I shall seriously consider tying you to our bed.” His mouth quirked in a wicked smile. “In fact, perhaps I could…”
“That will not be necessary, my lord.”
“Oh? And why not?”
“I shall do as you ask.” She did not add that she had been feeling fatigued this last week or two and would welcome the respite. Her husband was already quite exercised enough over her wellbeing, and she did not relish the prospect of spending the next fortnight propped up against her pillows while he fussed and fretted over her. “And, if you wish me to join you in our bed, you need only mention it.”
“Such a wanton.” Now, his smile did reach his eyes. “You hope to distract me by such wiles.”
“Have I succeeded, my lord?”
“Fuck, yes.” He shoved his chair away from the table. “Come here, Flora.”
He was already unfastening his trousers by the time she stood before him. “My lord, should we not go to our chamber? What if someone were to come in?”
“Let us hope that they have more sense than to disturb us when we are alone. Raise your skirts, wife, and straddle me.”
“Stephen!”
“Not such a wanton now, it seems. We shall work on this. Do as I say.”
“I am not sure if…”
“Remember those wedding vows, sweetheart,” he warned, a sensual smirk upon his handsome features. “You know full well that I prefer not to be kept waiting.”
Flora caught her lower lip between her teeth but could find no further persuasive reason to object to her husband’s suggestion. She lifted her ankle-length shift, along with the embroidered overgarment she wore, and clambered onto Stephen’s lap.
He moved forward to the edge of the seat, and she was able to wrap her legs around his waist.
“Is this what you had in mind, my lord?”
“Very nearly.” He reached between them to grasp his erection and positioned the crown of his cock at her entrance. Then, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her. For several moments he held her, suspended above him, the head of his cock parting the lips of her cunny, then he slowly lowered her onto his shaft.
Flora let out a long, low moan. In this position, he felt to be larger, buried deeper, than ever before.
“Stephen,” she cried, “Stephen, I… Oh… Ooooh!”
He settled her bare buttocks on his thighs. She found herself impaled upon his thick, solid cock, filled, stretched.
Begging for more.
She squeezed her inner channel around him and rolled her hips to heighten the sensation. She could not get enough of him, this English husband who had taken her, captured first her person, then her heart.
Stephen rocked his hips. He withdrew his cock partway, then filled her once more.
“My lord, I love you…”
He buried his face in her hair. “And I love you, my Flora. Touch yourself for me.”
“Touch myself? What…?”
“Like this.” He grasped her hand and drew it from his shoulder to the spot where their bodies joined. Then, he laid her fingers against her nubbin and rubbed back and forth. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice a whisper now.
“Then, continue.”
“It is wicked. Sinful.”
“Do as I say, Flora. Remember those vows.”
She had no choice but to obey, and no real wish to do otherwise. Slowly, but gaining in confidence with each sensuous sweep of her fingers, she teased and played. Her cunny contracted and convulsed of its own accord now, driven by the waves of pure lust she conjured for herself under his tuition.
Her husband began to move, or maybe she did. Flora was no longer quite certain. His hands were again at her waist, taking her weight as her body slid upwards to release his cock from her slick embrace. He held her aloft for long, delicious moments, then slammed her down again to bury his cock to the hilt.
The upstrokes were exquisite, the downstrokes almost painful in their intensity. She craved more.
“Harder,” she moaned. “Faster.”
Arousal grew, built, threatened to erupt. Tendrils of ecstasy unfurled at her core. There was nothing now but the relentless, tantalising surge of delight as the rest of the world fell away.
She was close, so very near.
“Spend for me, sweetheart. Let me have your pleasure.”
Yes. Yes.
She would give him anything he wanted, all she had. Flora rubbed harder, squeezed him even more tightly. Her nubbin swelled under her fingers, plump and ripe, quivering for her touch.
She cried out when her climax swept through her, clinging to his neck with one hand while she frantically worked with the other to coax every shred of sensation from this wondrous act.
Stephen let out his own shout of ecstasy. His essence flooded her channel, warm and wet, slick against her inner thighs. Her body convulsed again.
After, she lay spent in his arms, his cock still inside her. Flora rested her cheek on his chest, listened to his heartbeat slowing and his breathing becoming steadier. Neither spoke for several minutes, but eventually, Stephen broke the silence.
“You almost made me forget the purpose I sent for you in the first place.”
“My lord? I thought it was because you wished to berate me for my carelessness.”
“I only learned of that because I needed to speak with you, and I asked where you were and what you were about.”
“I see. So…?”
“I have had a letter. From the king.”
She sat up, at once conscious of his cock still lodged within her channel. Could he be starting to harden again already? “What did he say?”
“We are invited to court. Or, should I say, we are summoned.”
Flora’s heart sank. She had been a frequent visitor to Holyrood in recent years due to her father’s links to the crown, and more recently her brother’s position as one of King James’s closest advisers. She enjoyed listening to the gossip from other clans, and of course, observing the latest in fashions. She did not, however, much like the bowing and scraping and highly charged politics which seemed to be an inevitable feature of the royal household.
“Must we go? Surely, Robbie could…”
“I am not referring to the Scottish king, Flora. The letter is from Henry of England. We are summoned to attend the baptism of his new son. The young Prince Henry was, I gather, born in June.”
She gasped. Flora had never travelled further south than Elborne itself. The English monarch held his court in London. That was hundreds of miles away. She would have to spend days and days on horseback. Her back ached already at the prospect.
“I see. But why does he want both of us there? I mean, he does not know me.”
“Which is precisely why he intends to put that right. Henry adheres to the adage that knowledge is power, and he will do all that is needful to ensure his power is not disturbed. He likes to be acquainted with those he is dealing with. Given the importance of the treaty he so recently sealed, it would not surprise me if your brother had also been invited.”
“Robbie is accustomed to foreign courts. I am not. I would not know how to conduct myself. I should disgrace you.”
Stephen eased her around so that she faced him once more and started to slowly rock his hips. His cock was solid now, stretching her with each long, leisurely stroke. He kissed her on the mouth, swallowing her startled gasp of pleasure.
“You will not disgrace me. Henry will like you. The queen also. Elizabeth is a gracious lady, a relative of Frances’s. You will be welcomed as my marchioness.”
“Are you sure?” Her initial panic subsided somewhat, but still she hesitated. “It is so far away.”
“Yes. Greenwich Palace is in Kent.”
“I am not certain that I could travel so far, not right now.”
“We could go by carriage. I understand that you may not wish to ride.”
“Well, yes, but even so, I do not really understand the ways of the English nobles. And the court itself… Perhaps in a year or so.” Better still, a decade.
He increased the rhythm.
Flora clung to him, drowning in the flood of sensations he evoked.
“I could write to Henry, explain that you are indisposed.”
What? What did you say?
He chuckled and moved even faster inside her. “I could delay our trip until after the baby is born. Henry may not be best pleased, but he will understand.”
“No, I…” Yes. Yes, yes!
“On second thoughts, perhaps if I…” He reached around her to cup her naked buttocks with his hands, then slid one finger into the seam between the two globes. “Ah, yes.” He found her rear hole and dipped his fingertip inside.
“Stephen? What are you doing?”
“I am showing you that the unknown need not be feared. We must relish new experiences, welcome them.”
“New experiences? I… Oh!”
He inserted his finger even deeper into her arse. It felt odd, familiar yet utterly strange.
“You should not be doing this, my lord. You cannot…”
“I can, I should, and I will. I have.” He pressed harder and buried the rest of his digit inside her. “There. It is done, and the heavens have not tumbled down about us. Tell me, sweetheart, does this not feel delightfully novel?” He wiggled his finger, sending waves of sensation straight to her core
“Oh, dear Lord,” she moaned.
“Shall I take that as a yes?”
“Merciful Heavens.”
“Flora?”
“Yes,” she conceded. “Novel, and delightful.”
“Shall I stop now?”
She hesitated for a mere moment, then, “No. Please do not.”
“And the king’s invitation?” He thrust harder, using both his finger and his cock to press his point. “A trip to the English court will be another novel experience. How shall I reply?”
Flora could not respond at once. She was swept up in the rush of sensation as her second climax overwhelmed her senses. She could only cling to him until the storm passed and she could gather her wits again.
“I think… I think you should tell His Majesty that we look forward to seeing him in Greenwich.”