'Stop this foolishness, wife,' Geoffrey demanded. 'It is daylight and there is much I must see to.' He tried to keep his voice strong and determined but knew he failed miserably.
Elizabeth pulled back and gave him a long, sultry look. 'Aye, husband,' she agreed in a whisper that felt like a stroke against his groin, 'there is much to be done.'
Geoffrey pulled her back into his arms and kissed her hungrily. 'You are without discipline, wife,' he told her with a sigh.
It had begun as a game for her, this intent to show him that he found her irresistible too, but Elizabeth forgot her aim. The game was ended with his ravishing kisses, his exciting promises whispered against her ear.
She did not remember later who undressed whom, or how, only knew the explosion to her senses when she was back in his arms and skin was touching, caressing skin.
'So hot, Geoffrey,' he heard her moan against his mouth, 'you make me so-'
His tongue stopped her words, thrusting inside with velvet insistence.
Elizabeth let her wild need take over. She dug her nails into his shoulders when he turned her and braced her against the wall and entered her. He wasn't gentle with her, nor she with him. He held her against his hips and tried to concentrate on slowing the pace, wanting her to find fulfillment before he, but her frenzied movement against him made that thought leave his mind. He drove into her again and again, as wild now as she, and barely heard her throaty cries against his shoulder.
'I love you, Geoffrey.' The words, the verbal commitment, tumbled out with her physical release. She could no more stop their flow than she could stop the tremors racking her body. 'I do, I do,' she whispered as a litany when she felt her husband shudder against her.
Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder, traced a circle with the tip of her tongue, tasting the salty perspiration she had caused, inhaled the rich, sensual scent that was Geoffrey, and glorified in pleasured contentment. He was holding her so tightly against him that she had trouble catching her breath, but she didn't mind or make protest. She closed her eyes in blissful peace and relaxed her grip on him.
Geoffrey's breathing slowed, but he continued to hold her against him, unwilling yet to let the moment pass. 'You intoxicate me,' he whispered in a husky voice.
'Just as you intoxicate me,' Elizabeth answered. Her voice sounded lazy and as soft and light as her mood. She smiled and knew that she was smiling inside as well.
Geoffrey straightened his shoulders and let Elizabeth slide to the floor. He was looking intently into her eyes, as if he was searching for something there, Elizabeth thought.
Her lips were swollen from his kisses, her eyes wide with innocent trust, and Geoffrey thought she was the most beguiling, most enchanting woman in the world.
'I have not pleased you?' Elizabeth asked in confusion. She did not understand why he continued to look at her so intently.
Geoffrey placed his hands on the sides of her face and answered, 'You have said that you love me, Elizabeth. Was it spoken in passion only or did you mean it?' He frowned then, waiting for her answer, his heart suspended above the abyss of uncertainty.
'I love you.' She admitted the truth again in a shy voice and wished that he would let her go so that she could shield herself from his stare. She was opening herself to him, giving him the vulnerability she usually kept well hidden and protected. 'I did not know it until I said it,' she whispered then.
Geoffrey smiled, his eyes full of tenderness. He rubbed the side of her cheek with his thumb before leaning down and kissing her gently on her lips. 'You please me, wife,' he whispered. 'I do not know about love as you do. My years of training did not expose me to such feelings.' Geoffrey let go of her then and began to pick up his clothes. Elizabeth stood still, willing him to continue his speech.
Geoffrey knew that she waited and found himself irritated that she wanted more from him. He ignored her while he dressed and then turned back to her. 'I am most pleased that you love me,' Geoffrey said. 'And mayhap when I am an old man I will tell you the same.' His arrogant voice stunned Elizabeth and she folded her arms in front of her, ready to do battle. She realized then that she was quite naked, and hurried over to the foot of the bed to reach her robe. When she was covered and the belt secured, she turned back to him and said, 'I have not asked for your love, Geoffrey, and God's truth, I do not know why I love you.'
'You do not understand, wife,' Geoffrey placated. 'There is no place for love in a warrior's life. Only foolish men allow this feeling to guide them. When I am old and have many sons, then I can allow myself to become-'
'Foolish?' Elizabeth asked. She found her anger gone and suddenly felt like laughing. Poor Geoffrey, she thought with exasperation. He had so much to learn yet! You will love me, husband, else I will throttle you.
'Do not dare to laugh at me when I tell you my feelings.' Geoffrey shook his head at how easily she could make him angry.
'I was not laughing,' Elizabeth said, trying to sound contrite. 'Only smiling.'
'Do not correct me,' Geoffrey muttered.
A loud knock sounded at the door, and Geoffrey found himself thankful for the interruption. 'What is it?' he yelled louder than he had intended.
'Both messengers have returned, my lord,' a soldier called to her husband.
Elizabeth frowned, wondering where the messengers came from, but decided, from her husband's sour expression, not to ask him. There were easier, less noisy ways to find out, she thought.
'Geoffrey?' Elizabeth 's voice called him back as he started out the door.
'What is it?' he snapped. His mood was fast becoming furious, and all because she tried to make him reach into his soul and give her words he was not ready to release. In truth, he did not know if they were there, these words of declaration she prodded for. There was a chance that he did not possess them, and that, Geoffrey admitted only to himself, frightened him more than the vulnerability she wanted him to give her. He had never been frightened before. There was much to think over, and the sooner Geoffrey left her presence, the sooner he could confront his confused feelings. He did not like the chaos she paced him through, would not have it. 'Our subject is ended, wife, until
'Geoffrey!' She yelled his name at the top of her voice, and then covered her mouth with her hands, so that her laughter would not reach him.
Her husband appeared at the doorway, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. 'What is it?' he roared in a voice that would have knocked a grown man to his knees.
She was totally unintimidated. Well, by God, he would remove that smile from her face and show her fear or…
'You have forgotten your boots, my lord.'
Elizabeth laughed the whole time she dressed, stopping several times to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Aye, she loved him, she thought when she regained her control. There was freedom with her new knowledge, and a lightness of spirit. She pictured the expression on his face when he realized he was barefoot, and promptly went into another fit of giggles.
And then she remembered the messengers and decided to find out what they were reporting, where they had come from. She hurried with her hair, brushing it back and free, and smoothed the hem of her new lavender tunic.
As quietly as possible she hurried down the steps but paused at the entrance to the hall when she heard her husband say in an angry voice, 'He ignores
Elizabeth moved to the wall, else her husband spot her and lower his voice, for her curiosity was great. Who had ignored his command and why? she wondered. Curiosity removed any guilt of the sin of eavesdropping. After all, her husband was yelling loud enough to wake the dead, as was his usual custom, Elizabeth thought.
'I did not speak to him directly, my lord,' the messenger said. 'One of his men told me that he had locked himself in his room and was mad with grief over the loss of his wife. He also told me that he has refused food and is trying to starve himself to death.'
Geoffrey leaned against the hearth, rubbing his chin in thought, but glanced up in time to see a flash of lavender by the edge of the doorway. He waited a moment and, when the spot of material did not move, knew his wife was listening. He smiled and determined to give her something to hear that would irritate her as much as she irritated him by listening to his conversation. Aye, he thought, he was beginning to like these games the two of them played. He cleared his throat and said, 'Mad with grief?' His voice was full of disbelief. 'No man becomes mad
