the tales of her deformity come from? He considered her ears more of a curiosity than a deformity. Someone had greatly maligned the Lady Eliane. As her husband, he would protect her reputation.
Her husband …the benefits of becoming Eliane’s husband were suddenly at the forefront of his mind, as well as other parts of his body. He picked up a comb and went to work on Yorath’s tail. “Does not your horse need attending?” he asked. “And the packhorse as well?”
“They are taken care of.” Mathias looked comfortable. Too comfortable as he played with the piece of straw and teased the cat with the toe of his boot.
“Go now,” Rhys barked. Mathias jumped up from his perch as the cat arched its back in his direction and let out a hiss. “Never presume that another will care for your mount as well as you. He is your partner, not your servant, and you will do well to remember it.”
“Yes, milord.” Mathias bowed and went to his duties, leaving Rhys alone to consider his bride-to-be.
To his surprise he found the prospect of marrying Edward’s daughter exciting. The fact that she was the woman from the forest enchanted him. When he’d awakened this morning he had seriously questioned his sanity, but now there was much to look forward to. He had never been with a woman who seemed as capable as Lady Eliane. She was not a shrinking flower like Jane, nor did she seem to be a fan of trickery like Marcella. What she was he had yet to determine.
The next few days should be interesting, and he found himself wishing that it was three days hence and the vows spoken. Would she come willingly to the marriage bed? Or would she be shy and need encouragement? He envisioned her standing over him as she had in the forest. Except this time her long legs were bare but for the barest wisp of a gown. Her breasts, which had been covered in leather, now peeked seductivelyfrom behind her hair, which fell in a glorious mass of copper and bronze past her hips.
Rhys combed out Yorath’s tail until the silky black strands hung straight and swished against the straw covering the floor of the stall. With a hand on the stallion’s flank to steady him, Rhys moved up to the side of the great beast to work on his mane. His thoughts turned to how Eliane would feel beneath his touch, and his shaft rose in excitement at the prospect. Yorath tossed his head and Rhys looked up to find the object of his fantasy standing outside the stall.
“Have a care, milady. He does not take kindly to strangers.” Rhys leaned against Yorath’s side and placed his arms casually over the stallion’s back while willing his more rebellious parts into place. It would not help his cause some three nights hence if he frightened his lady with his lust. “As a matter of fact, he does not take kindly to anyone…except me.”
She smiled at him. A smile that did not reach her eyes. A smile that was more challenging than sweet. The dog that had accompanied her in the forest was with her again. It stood at her hip, just as it had the day before. “Llyr feels the same way,” she said as she touched the dog on the top of his head. A growl rumbled deep in his throat. “Llyr, enough!” Her words seemed to chastise the beast, but Rhys realized she commanded the dog to growl as easily as she spoke to him.
To his amazement, she extended her hand, palm down, toward Yorath and spoke in a language he’d never heard before. The words were musical and lilting, and Yorath stretched his nose out and snuffled the air around her hand. Then the stallion gently nibbled her fingers. If Rhys had not seen the horse’s reaction,he would not have believed it. Especially when she laughed and stroked the long path of Yorath’s nose. Her emerald eyes flashed her victory as her lips settled into a smile of mischievous satisfaction. How would it feel to have that look turned upon him instead of his horse? In his mind’s eye he could see her, settling over him, taking him inside her,
Her husband …the benefits of becoming Eliane’s husband were suddenly at the forefront of his mind, as well as other parts of his body. He picked up a comb and went to work on Yorath’s tail. “Does not your horse need attending?” he asked. “And the packhorse as well?”
“They are taken care of.” Mathias looked comfortable. Too comfortable as he played with the piece of straw and teased the cat with the toe of his boot.
“Go now,” Rhys barked. Mathias jumped up from his perch as the cat arched its back in his direction and let out a hiss. “Never presume that another will care for your mount as well as you. He is your partner, not your servant, and you will do well to remember it.”
“Yes, milord.” Mathias bowed and went to his duties, leaving Rhys alone to consider his bride-to-be.
To his surprise he found the prospect of marrying Edward’s daughter exciting. The fact that she was the woman from the forest enchanted him. When he’d awakened this morning he had seriously questioned his sanity, but now there was much to look forward to. He had never been with a woman who seemed as capable as Lady Eliane. She was not a shrinking flower like Jane, nor did she seem to be a fan of trickery like Marcella. What she was he had yet to determine.
The next few days should be interesting, and he found himself wishing that it was three days hence and the vows spoken. Would she come willingly to the marriage bed? Or would she be shy and need encouragement? He envisioned her standing over him as she had in the forest. Except this time her long legs were bare but for the barest wisp of a gown. Her breasts, which had been covered in leather, now peeked seductivelyfrom behind her hair, which fell in a glorious mass of copper and bronze past her hips.
Rhys combed out Yorath’s tail until the silky black strands hung straight and swished against the straw covering the floor of the stall. With a hand on the stallion’s flank to steady him, Rhys moved up to the side of the great beast to work on his mane. His thoughts turned to how Eliane would feel beneath his touch, and his shaft rose in excitement at the prospect. Yorath tossed his head and Rhys looked up to find the object of his fantasy standing outside the stall.
“Have a care, milady. He does not take kindly to strangers.” Rhys leaned against Yorath’s side and placed his arms casually over the stallion’s back while willing his more rebellious parts into place. It would not help his cause some three nights hence if he frightened his lady with his lust. “As a matter of fact, he does not take kindly to anyone…except me.”
She smiled at him. A smile that did not reach her eyes. A smile that was more challenging than sweet. The dog that had accompanied her in the forest was with her again. It stood at her hip, just as it had the day before. “Llyr feels the same way,” she said as she touched the dog on the top of his head. A growl rumbled deep in his throat. “Llyr, enough!” Her words seemed to chastise the beast, but Rhys realized she commanded the dog to growl as easily as she spoke to him.
To his amazement, she extended her hand, palm down, toward Yorath and spoke in a language he’d never heard before. The words were musical and lilting, and Yorath stretched his nose out and snuffled the air around her hand. Then the stallion gently nibbled her fingers. If Rhys had not seen the horse’s reaction,he would not have believed it. Especially when she laughed and stroked the long path of Yorath’s nose. Her emerald eyes flashed her victory as her lips settled into a smile of mischievous satisfaction. How would it feel to have that look turned upon him instead of his horse? In his mind’s eye he could see her, settling over him, taking him inside her,
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