understand lit the lady’s face, and Alyse turned her back, quite willing to allow Anne to drop the silk chemise over her head.
When she turned back to the company, loud “ah ”s and whispers of “indecent” ran through the women. Alyse looked down at herself. As she feared, the sheer material revealed every swell of her breasts. As the fabric moved across them, her nipples hardened, poking the garment out to sharp points. And Thomas would soon see her thus. Her whole body flushed at the thought.
Maurya stepped behind her and began to brush her hair again. “Pay them no mind, Alyse,” she whispered. “You are more beautiful than any of them. And I warrant Lord Braeton will have no qualms about you whatsoever in that shift.” Maurya glanced toward the door as a hum of voices grew louder outside.
Before Alyse could reply, the door burst open and the laughing, swearing, drinking chorus of male courtiers who attended Thomas strode in. And stopped. The sudden silence heightened the taut emotions in the small room. Everyone’s eyes rested on Alyse, who stared back at them and prayed she would not faint again.
As suddenly as the silence descended it broke, and a babble of laughter, praise, and ribald jests issued forth from the appreciative gentlemen. To her utter humiliation, Alyse recognized Patrick Sullivan, Roger Delaney, and Robert Spencer among the courtiers. All stared at her still, Patrick leaning over to comment to Sir Roger, who laughed and nodded in agreement.
What must they be thinking? Oh, how could Patrick do such a thing!
She blinked back tears of rage, but stood quietly lest they make even more sport of her.
From the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the doorway, and several men and ladies moved to make way for the final actor in this terrible play. Thomas strode grandly into the chamber, smiling as though he walked in a decorous procession. Attired in a splendid robe of green wool, adorned with velvet down the center edges and fur at collar and cuffs, he swept her a low bow. He laughed as he arose, but the sound died on his lips when at last he registered her figure in the blue chemise. The stunned look in his eyes was swiftly replaced by a hot hunger that made her gasp. Any hope she had of him honoring his promise died with that look.
“Lady Braeton.” He held out his hand, and Alyse had no choice but to take it. He raised it to his lips, searing her flesh with their warm touch. “You are a vision I scarce would credit this side of heaven.”
She peered into his darkened eyes, seeking mercy. At his almost imperceptible nod, she could breathe again.
He released her and stepped back. “The wedding is done.” Thomas nodded to his attendants, who stepped forward. “Let the bedding be done as well.” Stretching forth his arms, he waited as the men stripped the robe from him, revealing his perfectly nude body beneath.
A brisk hum echoed around the room as the whispered comments of the ladies merged with the bawdy japes of the gentlemen. Thomas stood unflinching, a slight smile still on his lips.
Alyse’s mouth dropped open, and her gaze raced over his form as she tried to look everywhere and nowhere at once. His shoulders, smooth and broad, showed strength from wielding his sword these many years. The arms that had held her were now bare and sculpted like a statue’s. Her gaze slipped lower, to his chest matted thickly with pale hair over well-defined muscles. She tried to stop there, to force her eyes back to his face. But she had seen his cock, jutting boldly from a golden bush. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She could no longer deny that their bedding tonight would completely consummate their marriage. Whether she agreed or not. How else would the witnesses be satisfied?
Anger flooded her mouth with a sickening metallic taste. This was where her duty now lay. She had to submit to Thomas as her husband, before all these people. Even though he had promised not to force her, he would
When she turned back to the company, loud “ah ”s and whispers of “indecent” ran through the women. Alyse looked down at herself. As she feared, the sheer material revealed every swell of her breasts. As the fabric moved across them, her nipples hardened, poking the garment out to sharp points. And Thomas would soon see her thus. Her whole body flushed at the thought.
Maurya stepped behind her and began to brush her hair again. “Pay them no mind, Alyse,” she whispered. “You are more beautiful than any of them. And I warrant Lord Braeton will have no qualms about you whatsoever in that shift.” Maurya glanced toward the door as a hum of voices grew louder outside.
Before Alyse could reply, the door burst open and the laughing, swearing, drinking chorus of male courtiers who attended Thomas strode in. And stopped. The sudden silence heightened the taut emotions in the small room. Everyone’s eyes rested on Alyse, who stared back at them and prayed she would not faint again.
As suddenly as the silence descended it broke, and a babble of laughter, praise, and ribald jests issued forth from the appreciative gentlemen. To her utter humiliation, Alyse recognized Patrick Sullivan, Roger Delaney, and Robert Spencer among the courtiers. All stared at her still, Patrick leaning over to comment to Sir Roger, who laughed and nodded in agreement.
What must they be thinking? Oh, how could Patrick do such a thing!
She blinked back tears of rage, but stood quietly lest they make even more sport of her.
From the corner of her eye, she caught movement in the doorway, and several men and ladies moved to make way for the final actor in this terrible play. Thomas strode grandly into the chamber, smiling as though he walked in a decorous procession. Attired in a splendid robe of green wool, adorned with velvet down the center edges and fur at collar and cuffs, he swept her a low bow. He laughed as he arose, but the sound died on his lips when at last he registered her figure in the blue chemise. The stunned look in his eyes was swiftly replaced by a hot hunger that made her gasp. Any hope she had of him honoring his promise died with that look.
“Lady Braeton.” He held out his hand, and Alyse had no choice but to take it. He raised it to his lips, searing her flesh with their warm touch. “You are a vision I scarce would credit this side of heaven.”
She peered into his darkened eyes, seeking mercy. At his almost imperceptible nod, she could breathe again.
He released her and stepped back. “The wedding is done.” Thomas nodded to his attendants, who stepped forward. “Let the bedding be done as well.” Stretching forth his arms, he waited as the men stripped the robe from him, revealing his perfectly nude body beneath.
A brisk hum echoed around the room as the whispered comments of the ladies merged with the bawdy japes of the gentlemen. Thomas stood unflinching, a slight smile still on his lips.
Alyse’s mouth dropped open, and her gaze raced over his form as she tried to look everywhere and nowhere at once. His shoulders, smooth and broad, showed strength from wielding his sword these many years. The arms that had held her were now bare and sculpted like a statue’s. Her gaze slipped lower, to his chest matted thickly with pale hair over well-defined muscles. She tried to stop there, to force her eyes back to his face. But she had seen his cock, jutting boldly from a golden bush. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She could no longer deny that their bedding tonight would completely consummate their marriage. Whether she agreed or not. How else would the witnesses be satisfied?
Anger flooded her mouth with a sickening metallic taste. This was where her duty now lay. She had to submit to Thomas as her husband, before all these people. Even though he had promised not to force her, he would
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