hips against him told him that it was time. He lifted his head and looked into her passion-glazed eyes as he thrust his fingers inside the velvet heat just once. Elizabeth 's entire body arched in splendor. She shook with the force of her climax and then felt herself floating in a sea of colors, all exploding and blending and finally fading.
She opened her eyes to see her husband smiling with arrogant satisfaction.
'You think me terrible?' she whispered with embarrassment.
'I think you beautiful,' Geoffrey answered. His voice shook and Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude for the control he had exercised.
And now it was his turn, she decided. She wasn't sure what she was to do but continued to look directly into his dark gaze as she said, 'And does the wife touch her husband in the same way?'
'Aye,' Geoffrey replied in a low growl.
'Like this?' Elizabeth asked, taking hold of his hand. She slowly touched one of his fingers with the tip of her tongue and then slipped the whole of it into her mouth and began to suckle it.
Geoffrey's control snapped. His growl of pleasure was her only warning before he covered her with his body and thrust into her. His mouth captured her moans as he continued to plunder her body and her soul, pushing harder and harder.
Elizabeth wrapped her legs around his powerful thighs and rode with him on the journey toward fulfillment yet again. He was the warrior now, intent on his victory, but Elizabeth was there with him, sharing in his ultimate conquest.
'My gentle warrior,' she whispered when the storm was ended and the sun was again allowed to shine.
Geoffrey heard her and smiled. He rolled to his side with a contented sigh and said, 'You are wrong, wife. I think perhaps you are
He kissed her temple after his speech, saw that his words had affected her, for her eyes were filled with tears, and felt most content. He was finding it easier and easier to tell her what was inside him, and admitted that he felt no foolishness with his confessions.
'This lion grows hungry,' he yelled with mock fierceness, slapping her soundly on her hip.
'This lion is always hungry,' Elizabeth laughed, rubbing her hip. She stood when he did and only had to hug him twice while they dressed.
'It is most difficult for you to keep your hands off me,' Geoffrey said with extreme smugness in his voice. 'Do not pretend such outrage,' he added with a chuckle when she tried to glare at him. 'I will have to get used to this clinging nature of yours, I imagine,' he added with a feigned sigh.
'And is that so terrible, husband?' Elizabeth asked. She picked up the rabbits and turned away from him, looking for a spot to set the fire.
'No, only foreign, that is all,' Geoffrey answered. 'I will skin the game while you gather twigs for the fire,' he announced.
Elizabeth nodded and threw the rabbits to him.
'Why is it so foreign?' she asked. She made a basket out of the hem of her skirt and began to fill it with bits of branches as she talked.
'What?' Geoffrey asked. He was squatting on the ground, a small hunting knife in his hand, and glanced up to look at her. He smiled when he saw that she was barefoot still and thought that she looked like an enchanting wood nymph.
'This showing of affection, Geoffrey… there was none between your parents?'
Geoffrey was surprised by her question, but lost his train of thought as he appreciated the enticing curve of her ankles. 'Put your shoes on before you hurt yourself.'
'After you answer my question,' she replied in a saucy voice. She saw that he continued to stare at her legs and smiled. 'I like to go barefoot.'
'They died before I had much memory of them,' Geoffrey answered. 'Now put your shoes on or I will do it for you.'
Elizabeth dropped the hem of her dress and the twigs fell beside Geoffrey. She spotted one shoe by the base of the tree but couldn't locate the other. 'Then who saw you raised?' she asked as she knelt and burrowed under a thorny bush. The tip of her dark boot was visible and she had to flatten herself on the ground to wiggle close enough to reach it. It wasn't a very dignified position, but necessary. And Geoffrey observed the whole scene.
'You were overly zealous in removing your clothes,' he remarked with a chuckle. 'Always in such a hurry,' he chided. The sparkle in his eyes matched his voice and Elizabeth found herself agreeing.
'I hate to wait for anything,' she answered with complete honesty. She sat on the ground and shook her boots free of any surprises before slipping her feet into them. 'And I especially hate having the subject changed all the time. Now answer me, please.'
'Answer what?' Geoffrey asked. 'Who raised you?' She couldn't keep the exasperation out of her voice.
'The king himself,' Geoffrey answered. 'Throw me your dagger,' he ordered, 'mine is too large for this task.' He was still squatting in the middle of the small clearing, looking at the arrows he had just removed from the game, studying how they were fashioned. 'Did your grandfather design these?' he asked when he saw that she was watching him.
Elizabeth stood up and began to brush the dirt from her skirt. 'I made those,' she boasted, 'once my grandfather showed me the way. They are most effective, are they not?'
'That they are, though too puny for a knight to carry,' Geoffrey said.
Elizabeth handed Geoffrey her dagger and then knelt down beside him. She began to arrange the twigs in a circular stack and then asked, 'How old were you when you went to the king? Did you become his page?'
'One of many,' Geoffrey answered. 'I was six, maybe seven years old.'
'Six! But that is too young. You must be at least eight years old to become a page, is that not so?' She sat back on her heels and frowned.
'Aye, that is usually the way,' Geoffrey acknowledged, 'though some leave their homes by the age of seven. In my case, there was no one else, save the king, and he was a close friend of my father's.'
'Tell me about your parents. Do you remember what they looked like?' she asked. 'No I do not remember,' Geoffrey answered in a gruff voice. He seemed irritated by her question and Elizabeth wondered at his reasoning. 'Now quit your chatter and see to my food,' he ordered.
They did not say another word until the meat was cooked and eaten. Geoffrey ate most of the game and Elizabeth was content to nibble on one of the roasted legs.
Geoffrey removed a small sheep's skin from his saddle and offered Elizabeth a drink. Thinking it filled with water, Elizabeth took a large swallow and promptly choked. Geoffrey grabbed her by the shoulders and began to whack her on her shoulders and she didn't know which was worse, to die from lack of clean air, or from being beaten to death.
'Always in a hurry,' Geoffrey snapped when she had stopped coughing and could hear him. 'It is amazing that you have lasted this long.' He shook his head and then decided to shake her too.
'I thought it was water,' Elizabeth said in her defense. 'And I was thirsty. And you have probably made my shoulders black and blue with your help.'
'Your face is still bright red,' Geoffrey said, ignoring her sarcasm. Why, he had barely tapped her between her shoulder blades, but then he had come to realize that his wife tended to exaggerate. It was a fault he would have to tolerate. 'Come and sit down,' he said, hauling her up into his arms.
He lifted her high into the air and then pretended that he was about to drop her to the ground, but his wife was not amused by his play, only glared at him and held on tighter.
He sat down and leaned against the tree, holding her in his arms. Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder with a sigh. For long minutes they were content to keep their silence, each thinking his own thoughts.
Now is the time for me to bring up the subject of
Belwain, Elizabeth thought. His mood is light and perhaps he will be more receptive to telling me his plans.
'Your brother will go to the king to be his page. I have not decided on the time yet. Perhaps in the fall.' His statement jarred Elizabeth and she spoke before thinking, 'You would not! He is still a baby. And I have heard
