Fury blazed in Rhonwyn's emerald green eyes. "You shall soon learn just what ap Gruffydd's daughter is capable of, my lord!"
"Lady, have mercy. My appetite for you is already well honed," he said.
"I should like to hone my sword against your head," she replied angrily.
"I should far rather lodge my sword within your sheath," he teased her.
Her cheeks flamed pink at the randy reference.
"What? No sharp retort?" he taunted her.
She raised her hand to hit him. He caught the hand and, turning it, kissed her palm. Their eyes met, and she was almost staggered physically by the lightning she felt shoot between them. Rhonwyn snatched her hand back, her heart hammering with shock.
"How long has it been?" he murmured softly. His fingers brushed over her lips.
"Go to hell!" she hissed as softly as they entered the royal chapel where the king and queen awaited them.
The king was wan, his left eyelid drooping, but his look was a kind one. He smiled at Rhonwyn, coming slowly to her side as she and Rafe reached the altar where Archbishop Boniface awaited them. Rhonwyn noted the queen's worried expression as the king stood on shaky legs beside the reluctant bride. Poor man, she thought, and gave him a dazzling smile.
"You truly honor me, sire, and I thank you for it," she told the monarch, taking his arm to steady him.
"You will be happy, I promise," the king said to her, and he patted her hand. "A woman is happiest when she is well wed."
"I will remember your words, my lord," she promised him.
Then in his elegant Latin, Archbishop Boniface began the ancient words to the marriage sacrament.
Chapter 15
Rafe de Beaulieu was more amused than angry when he realized he would not be able to consummate his marriage until they reached his estates. While he enjoyed female flesh, he had never been a man to casually bed a woman. The abbess made certain her niece rode by his side each day of their journey. He knew that she was attempting to foster some sort of a rapport between bride and bridegroom, but Rhonwyn was not feeling particularly cooperative. Each day he would attempt to engage her in conversation. She answered him in monosyllables. He gained far more out of her when he taunted her. She would erupt and excoriate him angrily until she realized just what it was he was doing. Then she would grow grimly silent, her lips pressed together tightly in a narrow line.
Finally one day he asked her bluntly, "Why is it that you are angry with me, Rhonwyn? I am not the one who betrayed you."
"You are a de Beaulieu," she answered him.
"So are you," he replied.
A strange look passed over her features, and then she laughed bitterly. "So I am. Twice, by marriage, I vow." Then she asked him, "Why did you wed me, Rafe?"
"For the land, of course, lady," he answered.
"And?"
"Because anyone else who might have you would have mistreated you" was the surprising reply.
"You felt sorry for me?" Her tone bordered on outrage.
"Aye," he readily agreed, "but I also lusted after you. You know how very beautiful you are. I think one reason Edward was angry at me for offering for you is that he, too, sees how lush and ripe you have become. You are no longer the avid little lass who so eagerly sought to go on crusade, Rhonwyn. You are a very desirable woman, and now you are mine."
"Edward thinks I am desirable?" she said, a small smile on her lips. Her green eyes were thoughtful.
"Could you not see the hunger for you in his eyes?" Rafe replied. "He loves my sister, make no mistake, Rhonwyn, but desire you, even briefly, he did. And the secret knowledge of it rendered him full of guilty rage. He directed that anger at you, you will recall."
"I did not see it," she said. "I was too busy defending myself from his cruel charges and half truths, my lord."
"And what do you feel for him?" Rafe asked, attempting to keep the jealousy in his voice from her.
"What should I feel for him?" she countered.
He closed his eyes a moment, and then opening them, said, "You will drive me to murder one day, lady."
"But I suspect not, my lord, before you have plundered my body and gained the pleasures that I can give you," she taunted him.
"What of the pleasures I can give you?" he returned.
"Can you?" she replied coolly. "We shall see, my lord. It is to be hoped you are more skilled in the amatory arts than Edward was. There was very little he aroused in me but a desire to have it over and done with as quickly as possible." That, Rhonwyn knew even as she spoke the words, was not entirely true, but her heart still hurt from the brutal rejection.
"You will find I am an entirely different man than my cousin," Rafe promised her. "You will long for more in my arms, and not less."
" 'Tis to be hoped your actions match or even exceed your boasting, my lord," Rhonwyn mocked him gently.
"As your aunt has so skillfully arranged our daily accommodations, lady, it will be a while longer before I may make good my gasconade," he said with an amused chuckle.
Rhonwyn was forced to laugh. "Passion is the better for the waiting," she advised him, her emerald eyes twinkling. Perhaps this marriage would not be as bad as she thought. To her surprise Rafe de Beaulieu was a humorous man, and she certainly admired his loyalty and devotion to his sister, Katherine.
"Shall I tell you how 1 intend to make love to you the first time I bed your1" he said, his silvery blue eyes making contact with hers.
Rhonwyn felt her cheeks grow warm. "You are indelicate, my lord." Was her voice shaking? Her knees suddenly felt weak as she bestrode her horse. She gripped her reins more tightly and hoped he didn't notice.
His laughter was low and insinuating. "I shall have you naked," he began sollly. "I want to see the candlelight and the firelight flickering over your body, Rhonwyn. 1 will kiss you. Not just upon the lips, but each tiny bit of your flesh will feel the touch of my mouth. You will be warm and yielding in my arms, Rhonwyn."
"How certain you are," she laughed.
"Aye, I am certain!" he said with a smile.
"What will you do when you have finished kissing me?" she demanded.
Now he laughed. He liked her boldness as long as it was reserved only for him. "I shall fondle those sweet breasts of yours and suckle upon their nipples until the flesh is swollen and aching with desire. I shall caress you until you are weak with longing."
Rhonwyn felt a small tingling beginning in her nether regions. She shifted nervously in her saddle.
He saw the motion and grinned wickedly at her. "I shall find your sweet jewel and torture it until you are creamy with your own sweet essence. Then I shall cover you with my body and enter you slowly, slowly, slowly. You shall feel me hard and throbbing my desire inside your sweet sheath, Rhonwyn. You will melt with pleasure within my arms, my beautiful bride, because, Rhonwyn, you are a woman who was meant to be loved, and there is no man on this earth who will love you as I do. And I will not be satisfied until you love me. Not make love, but love. Do you understand what it is I am saying to you?"
Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was shallow. His words aroused her in a way no man ever had. The tingle mushroomed until it shattered itself, and she sighed deeply. Then hearing his words, her eyes flew open, her look startled, her cheeks blushing guiltily.
"By the rood!" he swore softly, realizing what had happened to her. "Lady, it is all I can do not to stop this caravan and take you into the woods. My God, how you whet my appetites! Others might call you shameless. I will not, provided you keep your passion for me in the future. Praise God we shall reach Ardley tomorrow!"
"So soon?" she whispered. She was both astounded and distressed by the effect he had had on her with his wicked words.