The Devil's Bargain

He took her hands and placed them to her sides before returning to her buttons. "All I can think of is being inside of you," he muttered softly, almost so softly she didn't hear it. She squirmed slightly as he parted the thin cloth, baring her heated skin to the cool air.

Her hands quickly covered her breasts when his fingers stroked lightly back and forth over her belly just above her curls. Even knowing he could not see them in the dark garden did not prevent the shy blush that bloomed in her cheeks.

She felt vulnerable and strangely excited as she lay there, open to his exploring touch. Her belly clenched as she felt his mouth close over her inner thigh. His hand cupped beneath her knees and drew them wide, holding her open to his teasing caresses. She felt restless, curious, nervous, shocked. It was such a strange place to kiss, and created such an interesting response. Her breath came in small gasps as he mouth moved higher.

She struggled to close her legs against him as his lips brushed the curls there, feeling a strange dampness invade her. He stilled against her for a moment, before a soft groan escaped him. Her eyes widened and her hips arched as he parted the dewy folds and ran his tongue the length of her secret valley.

It felt as though lightening arced through her, never had she experienced anything so intense. He held her open as he kept returning to a spot that caused her to writhe and moan. His teeth teased her, his tongue lashed and probed her. Everything dimmed as he took her in his mouth, sucking on the swollen nub of flesh. She moaned and thrashed, bucking beneath him on the bed. An incredible tension built between her thighs, coiling until she thought she would die. Thomasyn moaned, her body arching as scorching heat rushed over her. She felt like she was being dragged down into unknown depths as everything but the feel of his mouth against her was lost as she drowned in ecstasy.

She lay limply on the bed, staring up into darkness as she tried to absorb what had happened. Tiny quivers raced through her as slowly she came back down to earth.

"I've never..."

"I know," he murmured huskily, kissing her there. "It pleases me that I am the first to show you."

The bed shifted as he moved, then a soft rustling. His body covered hers, his thighs between her spread ones. She felt the whisper of lips against her shoulder as he shifted over her, his flesh rubbing against her.

"Are you ready for me, sweet Thommi?"

A soft sigh escaped her as her dream changed, and she was riding her mare Gwellan across over rolling green fields.

~*~

Thomasyn moaned and stretched beneath the soft covers. Her brow furrowed at the pounding of her temples, and tentatively massaged them with her fingers.

"Morganne?" she called, and winced at the sharpness of her own voice.

"Ah, you're awake, Milady." The woman bustled over to the bed and drew back the heavy bed curtains. Thomasyn squeezed her eyes shut as bright light flooded the bed. As she sat up, the chamber dipped and spun.

Morganne began to scream, sending shooting agony through Thomasyn's head as they filled the chamber. She held her hand up as if to ward off the pain. The sound of shouts and the pounding of armour and feet could be heard over Morganne's cries, yet confusion held Thomasyn in her grip.

She gazed down at the covers pooled in her lap, only to discover the material gaped to reveal the valley between her breasts and belly button. A frown marred her features as she clutched her gown close over her breasts.

"He is a lecher, he has defiled my sweet baby!" the maid cried. Thomasyn felt as though she were in a dream as men and women filled the chamber staring at her where she sat on the bed as though she possessed three heads. It seemed only moments before Henry pushed through the gathered crowd. He took one look at her before turning to the guard at his side. "Call for the priest. I don't care if he is in prayers, get him."

It was when the mattress shifted beneath her that she realised she was not alone in the bed. Her gaze flickered up over a muscled chest and shoulders to the familiar masculine face of the Duke as he sat leaning against the heavy bedhead.

"Wilham," she breathed. Cold green eyes returned her horrified gaze from an impassive face, his mouth curling cynically. She tried to recall last night, anything. She remembered Henry coming to her chamber, and the mead. Then nothing beyond blurred images and sensations.

Noisy sobbing drew her attention to her maid. Morganne had raised Thomasyn since she was a babe, and was closer than her own mother had been. Oh, God, Thomasyn knew what Morganne was thinking, because she was thinking the same herself. She felt ill.

The crowd of avid faces parted as the portly priest shuffled into the chamber, ears bright pink at what he discovered. The priest refused to look at Thomasyn in the eye, and humiliation burned through her. Thomsyn pulled the sheet up to her throat.

"Neither of you will step foot from that bed until you are wed," Henry declared furiously. "It wasn't my intention to announce your troth to my daughter until we had agreed on a dowry, Ellesmere. But you have forced my hand."

What? Thomasyn gazed between her father and Wilham in confusion. Yet Wilham remained silent, the pulse ticking along his jaw the only indication of his feelings. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

The words of the priest fell over them, lending an unreal feel to the morning. When asked by the priest if she would take Wilham as her husband, she couldn't answer. Her gaze met Wilham's cold one, before skittering away.

"She does," her father spoke into the silence. The priest continued. Shock and hurt held her immobile.

"I do." Wilham's quiet declaration, when it came, shocked her. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.

When the priest finished his sermon, Wilham spoke. "Get out." The gathered men and woman seemed stunned at his harshness. "Get out all of you." Thomasyn slid her feet over the edge of the bed as the group began to shuffle out of the chamber.

"Not you." Those words were for her ears only. Fingers wrapped around her trembling wrist beneath the bed covers, holding her firm. She watched as her father herded Morganne out of the chamber, leaving her alone with a stranger. The betrayal stung.

~*~

Wilham gazed upon his traitorous wife, her face hidden by the long fall of silvery blonde hair. She trembled like a virgin in his grasp, only adding to his fury. How many men had there been before him? Had they cried afoul and escaped her treacherous tricks, or had she enjoyed taking lovers to her father's displeasure, forcing his hand?

Wilham remembered drinking a lot of whiskey last eve in an attempt to forget the tempting angel. He found he couldn't leave Hauxley, yet he couldn't stay. If only he had walked away. Even now he didn't know what had drawn him to the terrace and to his enemy's wife. Daughter.

"Why do you call him Henry?" he demanded.

"He-he doesn't like to be reminded of his age," Thomasyn replied, tugging on her wrist.

Wilham vaguely recalled Schelledon leading Wilham through a maze of halls to his chamber – Thomasyn's chamber in fact. The memory of what they had done made him rock hard. Wilham didn't release her. His other hand drew her hair back and cupped her chin, forcing her look at him. "You are a lying, deceitful little witch. Your beauty no longer blinds me to the hardened whore beneath."

The words stung. "I am no whore. I did not invite you to my bed. I did not invite the things you did. Your handsomeness does not blind me to the utter cad you are. You don't possess a shred of decency or morality."

He smiled without humour as his fingers trailed down the side of her throat and drew the gown down to bare her creamy shoulder. Her fingers clutched tightly at the cloth between her breasts with their beestung tips. He remembered licking those pink nipples and could have groaned. "Then we suit well, wife. We both know why I ended up in your bed." He leaned down and kissed her shoulder. "And of how you enjoyed my attentions, my immoral wife."

"Don't touch me," she whispered, anger and helplessness burning through her. "You only have yourself to blame for this predicament. And more fool me for having to take you to husband after what you have done."

"Know that I blame you." His face rose to hers. "And that I will exact punishment from you every day of this marriage to eternity, beginning now. Take off your gown."

Colour flooded her face. "You can't..."

"I can, my fair Thomasyn. I want to inspect the goods that have unwittingly come into my possession."

Nausea almost overwhelmed her. This man was her husband, through no choice of her own. She was bound to obey him. It was always expected that she would have no say in her choice of her husband. A father dictates his daughter's duty. She should have known when her father sent for her on her eighteenth birthday. Her step-mother had warned her, and Thomasyn had foolishly ignored her. The Duke's attention yesterday wasn't borne of any interest in her, but rather an attempt to sample the goods her father was selling.

She flinched as warm hands slipped beneath the edges of her gown and spanned her tiny waist. They slid upwards, cupping the pale mounds of her breasts with their rosy tips. Thomasyn squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers clenched about the cloth. Memory of his mouth licking them scorched through her, and she felt them tighten. Fingers brushed over the tips, teasing them to hard buds.

"You are a natural whore, Thommi. I find I want you still." Her breath caught as tumbled her onto her back on the bed, his body half covering hers. He still wore his unlaced breeches, and for that small mercy she was thankful as his thigh forced hers apart. She swallowed hard as she gazed up at him.

His mouth closed over her the base of her throat as he flicked open the few remaining buttons down over her belly. He brushed the cloth away, exposing her trembling thighs and the thatch of curls between. Her lashes fluttered close as he parted her, his fingers exploring the lush valley between. Her whole world narrowed down to the indescribable sensation of him slowly massaging her there. She fought him passively, trying to think of something else, something besides him touching her in her secret place. Yet through the burning betrayal she couldn't prevent her breathing hitching and the soft gasps that escaped as he coaxed her flesh into tingling life.

Thomasyn's body unwillingly softened beneath him, and his caresses changed, becoming less forceful. She lay beneath him, biting her lip as she struggled to remain still. Yet the sweet agony tormented her, bringing back shadowy memories of the night past.

He caught a restless hand, dragging it down between their bodies to cup the hot, throbbing part of him. "Touch me," he groaned. Her fingers curled around him, feeling the velvety hardness. "Stroke me. Yes..." He moaned as he showed her what he wanted. His hips arched, thrusting against her hand as her touch became more sure. She stroked the rigid heat, feel an answering quiver deep within her. She watched his face from beneath lowered lashes, and was awed by the effect her touch had on him.

Soon he brushed her hand away and moved over her, his mouth seeking hers. She turned her face to the side, and he kissed her neck. Her eyes widened as he pushed against her, the tip of him wedging inside her stretched entrance. Thomasyn bit down on her knuckles as he withdrew and surged against her. Pain seared through her, yet still he surged deeper. Her heels dug into the mattress, only serving to force herself further on his shaft as her hips rose to meet his thrust.

"God, you're so tight," he groaned heavily against her ear as he slid incredibly deep. He felt impossibly thick and hard as he filled her, her pussy yielding to his relentless possession. He groaned as he began to thrust within her, driving into her with a need that left her writhing and panting beneath him. The sensation of him moving there, back and forth, generated an intensity of mingled ecstasy and agony unlike anything she had ever known.

She clung to his shoulders, her legs wrapped around him. Her hips moved of their own accord with each thrust as he worked himself in her tight pussy. He tensed above her, his head tipped back, the cords in his neck straining as he cried out. He jerked inside of her with shuddering thrusts as warmth flooded her womb.

He collapsed upon her, his heavy breathing mingling with hers. The intensity of his gaze took her breath away as they lay looking at one another at such close proximity. He brushed back a damp curl, before his thumb traced her lips.

A soft whimper escaped her as he eased from her sore warmth and lay at her side, his head propped up on his hand. A blush stole down over her breasts at the sight she must present, sprawled half naked on the bed, her hair a tumble around her. Yet she couldn't move, bound up in the intimacy of the moment. She had just taken a man inside of her for the first time.

His gaze held her prisoner as his fingers stroked down over her body to the aching flesh between her parted thighs. She knew she should close herself to him. His finger stole inside of her as his thumb coaxed the throbbing nub. He leaned down and kissed her, teasing her lips apart. She melted against him, hating him yet liking what he was doing to her. Nothing in her life had prepared her for what went on between a man and a woman. Thomasyn found herself wiggling and squirming, her hips pushing down on his hand as she struggled to catch her breath as he kissed her slowly, enticingly.

Wilham moved to kneel between her legs, and drew her up to straddle his lap. Her arms circled his shoulders as he nibbled on her ear. "I find I want you again." A breathy moan escaped her. His hand discovered the damp folds of her sex, stroking her. Soft gasps filled his ears, and he drew back to gaze down at her. Silvery blonde hair tumbled over her shoulder and down her back, brushing his legs. Vulnerable blue eyes met his, clouded with desire. A blush stole over her cheeks. He was still hard for her, unable to get enough. He tore the gown from her body, throwing it wide.

This time she opened herself to him willingly as the tip of his shaft replaced his finger. His lips caressed along her jaw and the throat as one hand gripped her hips. A soft moan escaped her as he filled her, impaling her on his hard length. Her head fell back on a cry as he began to rock within her. He caught a pouting nipple in his mouth, drawing on it between ragged breaths.

Thomasyn bucked and writhed on him as he stormed her broken defences, feeling that wonderous tension return. This time there was no stinging pain as he took her, only a slight tenderness as he drove home within her. His hips rolled and thrust beneath her until she thought she would go mad with the pleasure. She cried out as he stabbed her deeply, his hands lifting and dropping her on his thickness. His deep groans filled her ears as his wedged himself furiously in her quivering heat, plundering her virgin pussy like an invading conqueror without a thought to mercy.

Her whole body was going up in flames, her body arching, her nails raking down his back. Her hips pushed down, meeting his every thrust as sensation rippled through her. She cried out in shocked wonderment as pleasure scorched through her to a blinding crescendo.

He roared as he erupted within her like a volcano, his head thrown back, every muscle straining as he plugged her tiny entrance. His seed spurted deep within her womb as he stormed her yielding body with shuddering jerks.

Thomasyn slumped against him, her cheek pressed to his shoulder as she tried to come to grips with what had happened. His arms tightened about her, his muscular body still shuddering. He titled her chin back and kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers.

Eventually reason returned, and she eased from his lap. She blushed beneath his heated gaze as he pushed dark strands back from his damp forehead. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she presented him with the smooth column of her back as she tried to gather her senses. Her lashes rested against her cheeks as she drew in deep breaths, waiting for the room to stop spinning.

Wilham knew he would discover her blood smeared on his shaft should he look. Thomasyn had been an innocent. She had struggled to take him in, and no amount of acting would have convinced him otherwise.

He regretted not making it easy for her first bout of sex, but she had brought it upon herself. His whiskey must have been laced with a drug that lit a fire in his blood for sex. He had struggled to conceal the effects of the drug before the congregation of squawking onlookers eager for some gossip to liven their day. He had almost given it to them.

Wilham knew he hadn't had to marry her. He could have left her ruined before the scavengers for what she and her father had done. But he had wanted to. He wanted to exact revenge on her every day of the rest of her life for making a fool of him. No one got the better of an Ellesmere. He would see to it that the life she had gone to great lengths to achieve was in reality hell. That she was untouched and unable to hide her responses to his caresses only made his choice of punishment all the more easy. He would make her crave him like the drug she and her father had fed him, then spurn her. And he would ensure she took no lovers to ease the ache he had created. For his Thommi was a passionate maid, her warm body made for a man's possession. Even now his shaft stirred where it lay along his thigh, and he cursed the deceitful witch again for what she had done to him. This burning need for her was a result of the drug, nothing more.

Innocents held no allure for Wilham. He much preferred the delights of experienced widows who knew their needs and his. After his wife's death he had no intention of remarrying. Ever. Schelldon new Wilham wouldn't touch a virgin. That way lay the trap of matrimony. Especially if that virgin was Schelldon's daughter. The tangle of lies clouded Wilham's mind.

Thomasyn rose trembling from the bed and strode to the robe. Clutching the first item her hand fell on, she lifted it from the hook. She slipped the gown of gold brocade over her head and struggled with the laces. With shaking fingers she riffled through her gilded box and found a broach to cinch the gown beneath her breasts, and accidentally stabbed her finger for her trouble. All the while she felt his keen gaze upon her. Her feelings for him wavered between hatred and dislike as she tugged her brush through her mane. Haphazardly she braided it and pinned it on her head, uncaring of the loose tendrils that escaped to frame her flushed face.

"Your maidenhead does not change things between us, fair Thommi. I will not apologise for what happened in this bed. You are my wife. Your body is mine by God's will to do with it as I please. It is for you to decide if you wish to enjoy it."

Without thought Thomasyn picked up the nearest thing, her silver brush, and threw it at him with all her might. He ducked, and the thump as it hit the headboard was loud in her ears as she stormed from the chamber.

"Go to the devil!" she cried without a backward glance. She slammed the door on his laughter. Scorching hatred for the man who had shown her the delights of the marriage bed burned through her. Where the hell was her father?