A Moment in Time

would keep him warm of a winter's night. He snatched the cloth playfully from her. 'Let me see your ears, my lady wife! Ahh, yes, they are most perfect.' He nipped at an earlobe and she shrieked.

'My lord Eadwine! You must behave yourself or I shall never get this done. The water is practically icy! Turn about that I may wash your back.'

'Be gentle this time, lady,' he begged her, remembering the last time she had washed his back.

Because this was a tub in which one could stand, and it had just been filled full, Wynne could not wash his legs and feet, and told him so. 'You must do your own,' she said, but he caught her hand in his and drew it down to his manhood.

'Will you not wash this randy piece of me, lady?' he pleaded softly, but did not release his hold upon her, even as with burning cheeks she dragged her cloth across his flesh. He held her gaze in his, willing her to touch him in a more intimate fashion. His lips brushed hers teasingly and, finally unable to help himself, he begged her with a single word, 'Please!'

'Ahhh,' she sighed, moved, unable to resist his plea, 'you are cruel, my lord,' and then her fingers closed over the great shaft of his manhood, fondling it gently, then stroking it until he thought he would expire of the simple pleasure she was offering.

'Tonight,' he half groaned, 'I will look into your face when I take you, my sweet wife. Do you know how very much I want to see your passion?' His arms wrapped about her and he kissed her hungrily, his lips almost tasting hers as he communicated his desire for her.

Wynne's arms slipped up and wound themselves about his neck. She sighed deeply as her breasts pressed hard against his chest. She was unable to help herself. She was eighteen years old and filled with the joy of life. Whether Madoc came or did not come, she could not deter this marvelous man in his intent. She didn't want to deter him. She wanted him to make love to her, and she wanted to make love to him in return.

'Not here,' she whispered to him. 'We cannot allow that wonderful bed to go to waste, Eadwine, my lord.'

He climbed from the tub and, turning about, lifted her out, setting her upon the floor. He would have hurried, but Wynne would not allow it, explaining that if the bed were to get wet, it would take much effort to properly dry it. They dried each other carefully, and then Eadwine set her back that he might admire her natural beauty. Blushing, Wynne returned the compliment, her green eyes widening just slightly at the sight of his manhood, for he was certainly well-favored.

His hand reached out to caress her skin. 'You are so fair,' he said, his voice tender and filled with love. 'I never knew a woman could be so fair.' Reaching up, he loosed her long hair and it fell about her like a silken mantle. 'It is as black as the night and as soft as satin,' he observed. 'Arvel has your hair.'

'His father is also dark,' Wynne said softly.

'I am his father,' Eadwine Aethelhard told her. 'Arvel is as much mine as he from whose seed he sprang. You cannot know, for not wanting to frighten you, I did not tell you, but when Arvel entered the world, the cord was wrapped about his neck. His color was good, however, but 'twas I who freed him and cleared his throat of mucus. 'Twas I who breathed the life into him.'

Wynne stared at him, shocked. Her passion dissolved for the moment. 'He might have died,' she whispered, horrified not simply by his disclosure, but by the fact her stubborn determination to deliver her child alone might have cost him his life had Eadwine Aethelhard not come into the Great Chamber when he did.

'I was there to see him safely through the danger,' Eadwine told her, correctly divining her thoughts. 'I loved the boy from the moment I saw him. He will grow to be a strong and good man here at Aelfdene.'

'Pray God he grows to be like you, my lord,' Wynne answered him. 'I could wish for no more than that.' She put her arms about his neck and kissed his tenderly. 'Thank you Eadwine, for seeing that my son lived when you could have as easily allowed him to die.'

'I could never have allowed him to die, my wild Welsh girl,' he told her. 'Not when I love his mother so deeply. I will never make you unhappy, Wynne. Never.'

'Say it not, my lord,' she told him. ' 'Tis too great a promise to make.'

He lifted her up in his arms and walked slowly toward their bed. 'I will make you happier than you have ever been, my beautiful wife,' he replied, setting her gently upon the coverlet, pressing her back amid the pillows, kissing her until she was dizzy with pleasure.

Happier than she had ever been. Was such a thing possible now? Once, oh it seemed so long ago, she had believed herself happier than any woman had a right to be. Once, long ago; but that long-ago time was gone; and she was beginning to realize, unlikely ever to come back. She caressed the back of his neck and felt his flesh prickle beneath her touch. Her fingers twined themselves through his thick ash-brown hair as once again his lips began to rain kisses upon her. His mouth was warm and just a little moist as he half kissed, half nibbled down the slender column of her throat.

She set his senses aflame. Her skin was like living silk beneath his touch, and perfumed with lavender. Her raven's-black hair was equally fragrant and soft. He could feel the blood coursing throughout her body wherever his lips passed. He moved to suckle upon her nipples, which seemed to push themselves at him, and he was selfishly glad her mother's milk had not come in, that he not be denied this pleasure.

His mouth upon her breasts all but destroyed her. Wynne could never remember her body being this sensitive, this attuned to a man; but perhaps it had just been so long, she reasoned guiltily with herself. She tingled all over with each tug of his lips, and a dull ache began to permeate her lower belly. She moaned low, and by the subtle slight movements of her body, urged him onward, but the thegn was not to be rushed. He had desired her from the first moment he had ever seen her, and their earlier couplings, when she had been pregnant with Arvel, had but whetted his carnal appetites.

Drawing himself level with her once more, they began to kiss and caress each other simultaneously. Her lips were bruised with his kisses, but she did not want him to cease. Her fingers found battle wounds upon his skin as they passed teasingly over his flesh. She twisted from his embrace and kissed each roughened patch of skin, and he shivered at her touch. He rolled upon his back and lifted her atop him.

'You do not fear passion, do you?' he said, smiling up into her flushed face.

'Nay, not even from the beginning,' she told him honestly, and leaned forward to nibble upon his lower lip, her breasts brushing the wiry hair upon his chest in a provocative fashion.

Unable to restrain himself, he stroked them, saying, 'I want to prolong this time with you, my wild Welsh girl, but my own desires are near to bursting. Let me but have you once, and then I shall spend an eternity giving you pleasure!'

Wynne smiled down at him. 'You are extravagant in your avowals of love, my lord,' she teased him. 'I, too, am eager to consummate this union!' Then to his great surprise she moved back just slightly, her green eyes half closed and glittering; and with a deep sigh she sheathed him languidly within her eager body. 'You wanted to see my face when we mated this night,' she said softly, looking down into his eyes. 'Does this please you, my lord?'

'Nay,' he told her, and then he quickly reversed their positions so that she now lay beneath him, 'but this does! A wife should submit beneath her husband, my wild Welsh girl!'

Wynne laughed up into his face. 'Why?' she demanded.

'Because a man is master of his household,' came the answer, and he began to move upon her slowly.

'There will never be any peace between us, my lord, unless you learn that I am your equal within the privacy of our chamber,' Wynne told him, and she forced herself to remain perfectly still.

'My equal?' He began to thrust with sharp, little movements of his hips and buttocks.

'In our bed,' she replied, gasping softly, and then, pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him, her tongue pushing into his mouth to taunt him.

'My wild Welsh witch!' he groaned, and her tongue licked at his throat, her teeth nipped at his earlobe. His movements became faster.