The Prize

Chapter Eleven

Nicholaa awakened to the sound of a waterfall thundering in her ear. It took her a long time to realize what the noise was, and she didn't have any idea at all until she tried to move.

She felt Royce then. His arm was wrapped around her waist. They both slept on their sides. She was in front, with her backside snuggled up against his groin. The noise was her husband's snoring.

Her feet were tucked between his legs. She slowly edged away from him and was about to roll onto her stomach when he tightened his hold and pulled her back up against him.

The movement almost killed her. Her head felt as though it might split in half. She went completely still. Her stomach immediately calmed down. Her mind didn't. Dear God, what had happened last night? She couldn't remember.

She'd slept with her husband. That was the only fact she was certain of. She had no idea what else had happened.

Had she gotten him sotted or had she gotten herself sotted instead? Nicholaa closed her eyes. It was too much to think about with her head pounding. Perhaps if she went back to sleep for just a little longer, she'd feel refreshed enough to remember.

Royce awakened just a few minutes later. Morning light filtered through the window he'd left uncovered. He lifted his head to look at his wife. Her eyes were closed. He thought she might be pretending sleep just to avoid him.

He gently nudged her. She groaned. "Nicholaa?" He whispered her name. She reacted as though he'd roared it. Her hand flew up to cover her ear.

"Are you still sleepy?" he asked. He rolled her onto her back and leaned over her.

The movement made her want to gag. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her first thought was that he didn't look ill. Nay, he appeared fit. Happy, too. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. If she'd had the strength, she would have eased his hair back where it belonged. The man didn't need much sleep, she supposed. His eyes were filled with laughter, and he seemed ready to take on the world.

He thought she looked like hell. Her eyes were so bloodshot it hurt to look at them. Her complexion was greenish. The aftereffects of too much ale, he decided. His wife was going to suffer this morning.

She fell asleep again while he stared at her. He leaned down and kissed her brow, then rolled onto his side to get out of bed. The movement woke her up. She grabbed hold of the covers to keep herself from shaking.

He noticed that action. "Aren't you feeling well Nicholaa?" he asked.

If he didn't quit shouting, she was going to die. "I'm fine," she whispered.

He laughed. His wife sounded as if she were being strangled.

The man was a morning talker. She vowed to work on that flaw. Royce kept up a steady one-sided conversation while he dressed. God, he was cheerful. She wished she could put a gag in his mouth. It was a mean thought, she knew, but she didn't much care.

Royce shouted his farewell, then deliberately slammed the door. He wasn't finished with his cruelty, though. He caught Clarise at the bottom of the steps and told her to bring a trencher of food to his wife's chamber.

Ten minutes later, when Clarise presented the meal to her mistress, Nicholaa literally bolted from the bed. She made it to the chamber pot without a second to spare.

It took her all morning to regain her strength. By nooning she was feeling better. She finally got dressed in a green bliaut, but she changed when Clarise mentioned the color matched her complexion. The royal blue gown was much better, or so the servant decreed.

Her hair hurt too much to let Clarise braid it. Nicholaa gritted her teeth while the servant brushed the tangles away, then used a blue ribbon to secure it behind her neck.

"Are you going to tell me what happened last night?" Clarise asked.

"I don't know what happened last night," Nicholaa whispered.

"You were stark naked when you got out of his bed this morn, milady. Something happened."

"Oh, God, I was naked, wasn't I? Clarise, I don't remember last night. What am I going to do?"

The servant shrugged. "You'll have to ask him what happened, but first you need to take a nice stroll outside. The fresh air will clear your head."

"Yes, I'll go outside. Then maybe my head will clear and I'll remember."

Clarise nodded. "Milady, you aren't feeling a little tenderness?"

"My head's feeling tender."

"That wasn't my meaning," Clarise said. She handed Nicholaa her cloak.

"What was your meaning?" Nicholaa asked.

"Never you mind," the servant countered. "Get your fresh air. It will all come back to you eventually."

Nicholaa hoped the servant was right. She wanted to remember what she'd told Royce. More, she wanted to remember what had taken place in the bedchamber.

The cold air did clear her thoughts. She felt much better, but she still didn't remember anything.

She intercepted her husband as he was returning to the courtyard from the lower bailey. She hurried over to him. "Royce? I would like to ask you about last night."

"Yes?"

She moved closer to him so she wouldn't be overheard, then lowered her gaze. "Did you have a little too much ale?"

"No."

"I did."

He put his thumb under her chin and tilted her face up. "Yes, you did."

He looked serious, but not angry. "I don't remember what happened," she whispered. "What did I do?"

"You talked."

"And what did you do?"

"I listened."

She let him see her displeasure. "Please don't make this difficult for me. Tell me what I said. I would like to remember."

He decided to make her wait. "We will discuss this tonight," he announced. He tried to walk away from her.

She grabbed hold of his arm. "Please," she whispered. "Answer just one question now."

He turned back to her. "All right," he agreed. "What is it you wish to know?"

She couldn't look at him when she asked her question. "Did I please you last night?"

The shyness in her voice, added to the blush on her cheeks, told him exactly what she was asking him. She wanted to know if she'd pleased him in bed. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited for her to look up at him. When she finally did, he shook his head. "Not particularly," he announced.

She looked devastated. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you," she whispered. "It's usually a little… awkward the first time, isn't it?"

"No." His voice turned hard. "It should have been easy for you."

She let out a gasp. The man was heartless. Her eyes filled with tears. "I wasn't experienced, Royce," she muttered.

"No, it was obvious to me you had no experience." he countered.

"And that displeased you?"

"Of course," he drawled out. "Nicholaa, telling me the truth should never be awkward, with or without experience."

Her eyes widened. Dear God, they weren't even talking about the same issue. She was acutely relieved. The feeling didn't last long. Royce smiled. She decided then that he'd deliberately misled her.

"I wasn't talking about telling the truth," she muttered.

"I know."

He was a cruel-hearted man. She decided she was finished with the conversation and turned to leave. He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to turn around. "As I said before, wife, we will discuss this tonight." She was still frowning at him when suddenly he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly. Several soldiers were strolling past, but she forgot all about her audience when Royce deepened the kiss. She was enjoying herself too much to care about anything but kissing him back.

He finally pulled away. "I like the way you respond to me," he murmured.

She melted against him. "Thank you. I'm happy I please you."

He smiled against the top of her head. "Tomorrow I'll go and get Justin and Ulric. Does that please you?"

He had his answer when she hugged him tight.

Lawrence called out to Royce then, drawing his attention. Nicholaa immediately disengaged herself from her husband and rushed back inside. She was so excited about Justin and Ulric coming home that she could barely contain herself. There was much to do in preparation. Justin would take over her chamber, she decided, and Ulric would sleep with her and Royce.

When Royce joined her at the supper table, she explained the sleeping arrangements to him. He dampened her good mood when he shook his head "Ulric will have your old chamber. Justin will sleep with the other soldiers."

"But he's my brother," she argued. "Shouldn' he…"

She gave up her argument when his hand covered hers and he started squeezing. Hugh was watching them, and Nicholaa decided her husband didn't want her to argue in front of him.

"We will discuss this later," she announced with a smile in Hugh's direction.

"No, we won't," Royce replied. "The matter is settled."

He squeezed her left hand again. She smiled sweetly up at him as she placed her right hand on top of his and gave him a good squeeze. Surprised by her boldness, he almost smiled.

"I'm leaving for London tomorrow," Hugh announced. "I'm hoping for one last game of chess this evening, Nicholaa."

"Will you be upset when I beat you again?" she asked.

Hugh grinned. At first she thought it was because she'd teased him about being upset. Then she realized he was watching the silent tug-of-war she was having with her husband. She kept trying to pull her hand away, and Royce wasn't letting her.

"I never get upset, Nicholaa," Hugh announced. "It won't matter, anyway, for I plan to win this game. I've just been toying with you until now. Since I'm leaving in the morning, I've decided to beat you soundly. You'd best prepare yourself to be upset."

She laughed at his arrogance. Royce smiled. "I hate to disappoint you, Hugh," he interjected. "But Nicholaa's going to be busy after dinner. She and I are going to have a discussion. Aren't we?"

He squeezed both her hands to let her know he didn't want an argument. Nicholaa didn't like the look in his eyes or the set of his jaw. It was the look he always wore when he was about to lecture her.

Hugh didn't want to be denied this one last opportunity to play chess with Nicholaa. "I'm not above pleading," he told Royce.

Nicholaa thought the baron looked like a child whose sugar treat had just been taken away. She didn't want his last night to be a disappointment.

"I could play one quick game," she told Royce. "It wouldn't take me any time at all to humiliate Hugh. You could give me your lecture while we play, husband."

It sounded like a perfectly good plan to her. Royce obviously didn't agree. His frown was fierce. "I'm not going to lecture you," he announced. "The two of us are going to have a discussion."

She gave him a disgruntled look. She would have snorted, too, but it wouldn't have been ladylike. "The kind of discussion on the way to London where you do all the talking and I do all the listening?" She didn't give him time to answer, but turned back to Hugh. "Sounds like a lecture to me," she said.

Hugh was trying not to laugh. Nicholaa seemed to be deliberately pricking her husband's temper. Royce didn't look happy with his wife either. He let go of her hands and leaned back, then folded his arms across his chest. His glare could have set a fire.

She had trouble holding on to her smile. She refused to back down, though. The man was going to lecture her, and she wanted him to admit it. "I was only making an observation," she announced.

His wife was totally without discipline, arguing with him in front of a guest. It didn't matter that Hugh was his good friend. The issue he wished to discuss with her was of a personal nature and came under the heading of "family concerns." She should have more sense than to drag an outsider into their problems.

"You may play one game of chess," he said. "But only one. Do you agree, Hugh?"

His friend was already rushing toward the fireplace to gather the wooden chess pieces from the mantel. The man was literally rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

Nicholaa smiled and turned back to Royce. "I also agree," she said.

Royce raised an eyebrow. "Agree with what?"

"To play only one game."

"I didn't ask for your agreement, Nicholaa." He smiled when he said that.

She shook her head. "Sometimes I find you most difficult to get along with, Royce."

"Only sometimes?"

When Alice rushed over to clear the table, Nicholaa was glad for the interruption. "I do hope your mood improves," she whispered to her husband. She stood up and helped Alice with the chore just to get away from her husband's frown.

As soon as the table was mopped dry, Hugh placed the board in the center and spread out the chess pieces. One of the wooden statues toppled to the floor. Nicholaa let out a little gasp. "Do be careful, Hugh. My father carved those pieces. I wouldn't want anything to happen to them."

Hugh retrieved the chess piece, checked it over, and then polished it with the sleeve of his tunic. "It's good as new, Nicholaa. Your father really carved this? Have a look, Royce. It's a piece of work, it is. Look at the detail on the helmet. Your father was clever with his hands, Nicholaa."

Royce took the statue and held it closer to the candles to get a better look. Nicholaa walked over to stand behind him, putting her hand on his shoulder and leaning forward to look at the piece with him. "See the nick in the black queen's crown? I remember how that happened. As he carved that piece, Papa was telling us an amusing story that we had all heard at least a dozen times, and when he finished the tale, he laughed so hard he cut his finger and nicked the wood just there." She leaned farther forward until she was draped over Royce's shoulder and pointed out the small flaw in the chess piece.

The pleasure in her voice wanned him. "And did you laugh with your father even though you'd heard this story countless times?" he asked.

She smiled at him before answering. The sparkle in her eyes made his chest tighten. He liked seeing her so carefree, he decided. "Of course we laughed. Mother said we'd hurt papa's feelings if we didn't."

"So his feelings were important to your mother?"

Nicholaa nodded. "Just as your feelings are important to me." Her expression turned serious. "Why do you look surprised?" she asked. "A wife should care about her husband. It's the way of things."

She couldn't seem to stop herself. He had such an intent look on his face as he stared at her. It was as though she had spoken in a foreign language. She wanted to ease his frown. She kissed him.

He was stunned by her spontaneous action. She became embarrassed and pulled back, thinking to put some distance between them, but he wouldn't let her move away. He reached up and caught her arm.

"Tell me about the rest of these pieces," he commanded in a gruff voice.

"Do you really wish to know or are you just being polite?"

He grinned. "I'm never polite, remember? I'm rude."

He was teasing her. The sparkle in his eyes indicated as much. "Do you know," she said, "that you have beautiful silver chips in your eyes?"

She didn't realize she'd made that comment out loud until he shook his head. Her blush intensified. She took her place across the table from Hugh. "Do you notice how the white queen tilts to the left? Justin tried to improve on the base. He was only eight or nine at the time, so Papa didn't become too irritated with him. He said Justin was only trying to be helpful. Everyone in the family helped with the pieces."

"And what did you do?" Royce asked. "Which piece bears your handiwork?"

"Mother and I were given the assignment of painting and polishing the pieces. The whites are my work, and the blacks were done by mother."

"It's a beautiful set," Hugh announced. His voice became abrupt when he added, "Now put this chitchat aside, Nicholaa. On to the game."

"You're our guest," Nicholaa said, "so you should have the first move."

Hugh nodded. "Prepare yourself for defeat."

"I'm prepared," Nicholaa answered. She winked at Royce, drawing yet another surprised reaction, then said, "Some my favorite memories are tied to this I chess set. The pieces are all I have left of my parents. I must remember all the stories, Royce, and pass them on to our children."

Hugh pondered his first move a good five minutes and finally executed it. Nicholaa barely glanced down at the board before moving her pawn forward.

"Traditions are very important to you, aren't they, Nicholaa?" Royce asked.

Hugh drummed his fingertips on the table while he considered his next action. He was scowling in concentration. Nicholaa whispered her answer so she wouldn't disturb Hugh. "Yes, traditions are important to me. Are they important to you?"

"The tradition of telling the truth at all times is very important to me."

She gave him a disgruntled look, then saw that Hugh had made another move. She immediately countered.

"But are other traditions important to you?" she prodded Royce.

He shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it."

"This game's important to me," Hugh grumbled. "Cease this banter, woman. You need to think about what you're doing."

Both players made three more moves apiece before Nicholaa turned back to Royce. He'd been watching the game, and she had noticed that each time she executed a move, he smiled. She wondered what he was thinking.

"They should be important to you," she blurted out.

"What?"

"Traditions."

"Why?" Royce asked. He leaned closer to the table to observe the game.

"Because they're important to me. Check, Hugh."

"It can't be check yet."

She gave him a sympathetic expression. "Your queen's trapped."

"Nay, she's not." He wailed that denial.

Nicholaa hid her smile, moved her bishop, and then snatched Hugh's queen from the board.

Royce was having difficulty believing what he'd just witnessed. After the first two moves, he'd thought the cunning she'd shown was but a fluke. He was forced to reevaluate that position when she executed her next move. The game was brilliantly executed. She was brilliant.

Hugh's head fell to rest on his arms. "It didn't take more than eight moves to best me."

Nicholaa reached over and patted his shoulder. "You're getting much better with each game, Hugh."

He straightened up. "No, I'm not," he muttered. "But you've got a kind heart to lie to me, Nicholaa."

"I'm not lying," she blurted out with a hasty glance in her husband's direction. "You really have improved."

Hugh snorted. He stood, bowed formally to Nicholaa, and then announced he was going to bed. "I'm going to miss your wife more than I'll miss you, Royce," he called out as he strode toward the entrance.

"In court Hugh's considered a good chess player."

Royce remarked. Nicholaa smiled. The dimple was back in her cheek.

"I'm better."

He couldn't contradict that arrogant reply. She was better. "Aye, you are better," he acknowledged. "But then, so am I."

"Perhaps," she allowed. "I won't be challenging you to a game, though. Your feelings would be hurt when I beat you."

He was so astonished by the remark that he burst into laughter. "You wouldn't beat me, wife, and my feelings wouldn't be affected."

The look she gave him suggested she didn't believe him. She started to stand up, thinking she'd put the chess set back on the mantel, but Royce stopped her by placing his hand on hers.

"Stay where you are, wife. It's time for our discussion."

Then he stood up. Nicholaa let out a little sigh. She smoothed her hair back over her shoulders, folded her hands on the tabletop, and smiled up at Royce. He'd moved to the other side of the table and now stood there towering over her. "I'm ready to listen," she announced. "About last night…"

"Yes?"

"That was yet another attempt on your part to manipulate me, wasn't it?"

Royce patiently waited for her to deny her scheme to get him drunk. Then he was going to force her to be honest, even if it took him the rest of the night. He had his argument ready, point by logical point. "Yes, Royce, I was trying to manipulate you." He was brought up short by her ready agreement. He quickly recovered. "Your plan went sour, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did."

"Do you remember what you told me?" She was getting a crick in her neck from having to look up at him. She wished he'd either sit down or back up a step or two. "Only little pieces," she admitted. "I believe I told you Ulric is my brother's son. Or had you guessed that?"

He was about to answer her, then changed his mind. "All right, Nicholaa," he said in a clipped voice. "What is this new game you're playing?"

"I'm not playing a game."

"Then why are you being so agreeable?"

She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. "I promised to be completely honest with you."

"And you believe you were being honest with me last night?"

"I had planned to tell you several things last night," she returned. "I was going to be completely honest with you when I told you about my family. Yes, I was being honest all right. I certainly was."

"But you wanted to get me drunk first."

She nodded. "I thought it would be easier for you to accept the truth that way."

He shook his head. "You thought you'd manipulate me."

"I guess you could look at it that way," she countered. "I admit it was a foolish plan, Royce. Is that what you're after?"

He nodded. "It's a good beginning," he allowed.

"That's exactly why I did it. Also, I would like a new beginning."

"You would?"

She turned her gaze to her hands. "I would like for us to get along well together."

The wistfulness in her voice caught his attention. He stared at her for a long minute while he decided if she was being honest with him or trying to manipulate him again. "This is important to you?" he asked.

"Oh, yes." She looked at him. "Very important."

He believed her. He smiled.

"You are amused by my opinion?" she asked.

He didn't give her time to work herself up into a fit of temper. "I'm pleased, not amused," he explained. "I also wish for us to get along well together," he added gruffly.

Her eyes widened in surprise. He sounded so sincere. Then he nodded. She nodded back.

Hell, she'd taken all the bluster out of him. He was suddenly feeling as awkward as a fresh squire unfamiliar with his new duties.

"Well, then, we are in agreement," Royce said. She nodded again and started to stand up. He turned around and clasped his hands behind his back. She sat down again. She knew what was coming. Her easy agreement hadn't stopped him after all. It was time for the lecture. "A husband should have ultimate confidence that his wife will always be honest with him," he announced.

"But you've never been married before," she couldn't resist pointing out. "How can you know if that is true or not?"

"Nicholaa, a man doesn't have to be burned by fire to know the damage a flame can do."

She thought that was a rather peculiar comparison, but the intense look on her husband's face made her keep her opinion to herself.

"I'm older than you are," Royce began again. "You'll have to trust me to know what I'm talking about. Now then, Nicholaa, speaking of trust…"

Lord, how he liked to lecture her. He resumed his pacing and continued. Nicholaa bowed her head again and began to make a list in her mind of all the chores that needed to be done before Justin and Ulric came home. The floors should have a thorough scrubbing; the baby was crawling now, and she didn't want his knees to get dusty. She wanted Cook to prepare some of Justin's favorite dishes, too; that would please her brother. Tomorrow night they would have pheasant and sweet baked apples. Justin loved pheasant. And after the bird had been cooked, she would help Cook redress it with the colorful feathers just to make the dinner a little fancier.

"Don't you agree, Nicholaa?"

Her head came up with a start when she heard her name. Royce was staring at her, obviously waiting for a response. "Yes, Royce."

He nodded. Then he started in again. "Marriage is like a map."

"A what?" She sounded incredulous.

"A map," he said again. "Do not interrupt me when I'm instructing you."

He didn't raise his voice when he gave that command. He never raised his voice, she suddenly realized. Royce was a controlled, disciplined man. In truth, she couldn't help admiring his restraint. He was kind, too.

She caught a few more snatches of his lecture before she started daydreaming again and realized that everything he said was meant to ease her adjustment to her new status. He wanted her to be happy. That fact became more and more evident the longer he lectured.

The man cared about her-perhaps almost as much as she cared about him. Aye, she did care. She wouldn't have been sitting there acting so thoroughly interested in his every word if she didn't care just a little. She was behaving the way her mother used to behave, she realized. Papa loved to retell the same old tired stories again and again and her mother had pretended to be vastly amused each and every time he'd finished.

Royce liked to lecture her. And now she was pretending to be vastly interested. The traditions were continuing. A warm feeling filled her. Her mother would be proud of her, for just as she'd protected her husband's feelings, Nicholaa was trying to protect Royce's.

"And so, wife, I believe it would be a good idea for you to outline for me the duties you plan to undertake each day," Royce concluded. "It's yet another way we will be able to achieve order in our daily lives."

"Do you mean to say you want me to stand before you every morning and tell you what I plan to do that day?"

"Yes."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "But you aren't leaving any room for surprises, husband," she pointed out.

He looked appalled. "No, of course not. For God's sake, Nicholaa, haven't you heard a word I've said?" She guessed he'd already covered the topic of spontaneous actions. She didn't dare smile. "Oh, yes," she rushed out, trying to placate him. "I've learned quite a lot. I just wasn't certain how you felt about… surprises."

The excuse sounded pitifully lame to her, but Royce looked appeased. She did smile then. "Are you almost finished? It's getting late, and Clarise promised to have a bath ready for me before bed this evening. I don't want the water to get cold."

He gave her permission to leave. Her legs were stiff when she walked to the entrance. Lord, how long had she been sitting there?

She turned to say good night to Royce and noticed he was replacing the chess set on the mantel. She waited until he turned around. "Good night, Royce."

He looked at her for a long minute. "You're sleeping with me tonight."

The harshness in his voice didn't leave room for argument, but it didn't frighten her either. Nay, he was only letting her know he was determined.

But then, so was she. It was time their marriage became real in every sense. It didn't matter that she was a little afraid. In her heart she knew Royce wouldn't hurt her.

The servants had placed a wooden tub in her chamber. Nicholaa took a long bath, all the while reminding herself that everything would be all right. She was even able to smile when she realized she was lecturing herself.

Clarise hovered about, acting like a substitute mother, but once the servant believed Nicholaa understood exactly what was going to happen, she let the embarrassing topic drop.

Nicholaa hadn't told Clarise the full truth, however. She had only learned bits and pieces of information over the years about the marriage act. Her mother had only spoken in generalities, too.

Still, Royce would know what to do… if she ever gathered enough courage to leave her room and go to his, she thought to herself.

Clarise finished brushing her hair, then helped her put on her robe. "I don't believe he bedded you proper last night," the servant whispered. "You would have felt a bit of tenderness if he had."

Nicholaa nodded. "I don't believe he touched me," she whispered back. "It wouldn't have been honorable. I'm starting to understand how my husband's mind works, you see. He wouldn't have touched me when I was in such a… vulnerable condition."

Nicholaa tied the belt of her robe. She wore a white cotton sleeping gown underneath. She'd started to put on a heavy chemise first, but Clarise told her that wouldn't do.

The walk from her chamber to his took forever. She didn't hesitate, though. She opened the door and hurried inside.

Royce was kneeling in front of the hearth. He was barefoot, bare-chested, too. The display of muscles across his broad shoulders was impressive when he lifted a fat log and added it to the fire.

She stood there watching him for a long minute. She said a prayer of thanksgiving that he still had his pants on. She didn't want to start the night blushing. Royce would notice.

When she felt a draft around her ankles, she closed the door, then turned around to find Royce leaning against the mantel, staring at her.

She tried to smile.

He didn't smile back. "What are you thinking about, husband?" she asked, worrying over his dark, almost brooding expression.

"I was thinking that I'm married to a very beautiful woman."

Her heart started in pounding. "Thank you," she replied. She took a step forward. "Do you know, I believe that's the very first compliment you've ever given me."

He shook his head. "No, there was one other."

"There was?"

"I told you I thought you were cunning when you disguised yourself as a nun. Don't you remember? It was when we met again at the abbey."

She smiled. "I do remember, but I didn't consider that comment a compliment."

"Why not? It was more substantial than my comment about your appearance."

She was thoroughly confused. "Why was it more substantial?"

"A woman can't do anything about her appearance," he said. "Either she's pretty or she isn't. But her character is quite another matter. Now do you understand?"

"I understand you're trying to confuse me," she announced. "And I'm still pleased you find me attractive. It doesn't matter which compliment has more substance."

She was also pleased that her voice wasn't shaky. Her legs were. She didn't want Royce to know she was a little afraid and very embarrassed about what was going to happen. She was his wife now, not some silly little chit. Why, she didn't even think she was blushing now.

Her face was as red as fire. Royce let out a long sigh. Nicholaa was desperately trying to hide her fear from him, but even from across the room he could see how her shoulders trembled. She was wringing the belt of her robe into knots, another telling indication she was frightened.

"Should I latch the door?" she asked.

"Yes."

She nodded. She kicked off her shoes and walked over to the bed, forgetting in her haste that the door was still unlocked.

Nicholaa stopped, suddenly so nervous she couldn't stop rambling. "A compliment about one's nature is more important because a person has to choose how to behave, whilst a compliment about one's appearance doesn't mean overly much because there is no choice involved there. You didn't bed me last night, did you?"

It took him a minute to make the switch in topics. "No, I didn't bed you last night."

She turned her attention to taking her robe off. "I knew you hadn't," she whispered. "Still, I needed to ask."

She folded the robe just so, then placed it on the foot of the bed.

"Do you want me to get under the covers now?"

"Do you want to?"

She looked down at the bed, then up at Royce, then back to the bed again. A frown marred her brow. Royce thought she acted as though he'd just asked her to solve all the problems of the world.

"I don't believe I want to get into bed just yet," she finally answered.

"Then don't."

She turned to frown at him. "Why are you being so agreeable?"

He grinned. "I was told I could catch more vermin with sweet than with sour."

"Who would say such a ridiculous thing?"

"You said it," he answered. "Last night."

He had such an adorable smile that a little of her fear eased away. "I was sotted," she answered. She threaded her fingers through her hair and tried to concentrate on the conversation. "I'm ashamed of my behavior. I promise you it won't happen again. You did notice I drank only water with my supper tonight didn't you?"

He laughed. "I'm noticing you don't sound at all contrite," he drawled out. "That's what I'm noticing."

She smiled. She was starting to relax, for Royce didn't seem to be in any particular hurry to bed her. Perhaps he knew she was a bit nervous and was deliberately giving her time to rid herself of her fear.

That possibility made the rest of her fears vanish. She walked over to stand in front of him. The fact that he towered over her didn't seem to bother her now. His bare chest bothered her, though. Lord, he was a handsome devil. A warm knot settled in her stomach. His skin was bronzed, and he was powerfully built. His upper arms were sleek with roped muscles, and his chest was magnificent. A sprinkling of dark curly hair covered most of his chest, then tapered into a narrow line that disappeared below the waistband of his pants. She felt a little breathless just looking at him. It was a foolish reaction, she told herself, because she'd seen him without his tunic several times now.

Still, he hadn't been thinking about bedding her then. He was now.

Nicholaa noticed a long, thin scar running down the center of his chest. She touched the mark near the top, then followed the line with her fingertips. The muscles in his stomach contracted when her fingers touched him there.

"This blow should have killed you," she whispered. "You've led a charmed life, Royce, to have suffered so many injuries and still survived."

He was having difficulty concentrating on what she was saying to him. Her fingers were rubbing circles on his stomach. The feathery caress made his heartbeat quicken.

She liked touching him. The heat from his skin surprised her. He was hard all over, yet warm, too. His body reflected his spirit, she decided. Royce was ruthless in battle, but he was being gentle with her. Yes, the warrior's body protected a kind heart.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him.

He put his arms around her and pulled her even closer, her cheek resting against his chest. "Royce? Will you explain what's going to happen?"

The shyness in her voice made him smile. He kissed the top of her head. He wanted her mouth. "No."

She leaned back so she could look into his eyes. "You aren't going to tell me?"

He put his hand under her chin so she couldn't hide her face from him, then slowly leaned down. When he was just a breath away from her mouth he said, "I'll show you instead, Nicholaa."

She didn't have time to wonder if that was a good idea. Royce caught her full attention when his mouth settled on hers. The kiss wasn't at all gentle. Nay, it was hot, wet, and blatantly possessive. He used his thumb to force her mouth to open wider for him, and then his tongue swept inside.

God, she tasted good. He couldn't get enough of her. His hands stroked her back, then moved lower until he was cupping her backside. He lifted her up and pulled her tight against his arousal.

Nicholaa tried to move away when she felt his hardness against her, but Royce wouldn't let her. He tightened his hold. His mouth slanted over hers again and again, until her resistance was forgotten and she was passionately kissing him back.

The sound of their breathing-his raspy, hers shallow-mingled with the pounding of their hearts.

He kept up the gentle attack for long minutes. He was determined to go easy, to savor each and every caress. When Nicholaa was ready for deeper intimacy, she would let him know.

Royce's legs were braced apart, and he continued to lean back against the mantel as he casually ravaged his wife's sweet mouth. It didn't take him long to rid her of her shyness. She began to caress his arms, his shoulders, his back. Then she moved restlessly against him. She cuddled his hardness between her hips and pressed against him. When she began to move back and forth, deliberately rubbing against him, his composure vanished. He held her backside and made her stop the torment. It was too soon for him to lose control, he reminded himself, but if his innocent wife didn't stop her sweet torture, he might forget his vow to go slowly.

His hands stroked her shoulders, then brushed the sides of her breasts. She shivered with pleasure and reached up to put her arms around his neck. It wasn't long before she was clinging to him. He finally tore his mouth away from her, then began to nibble on the side of her neck. Her head fell to one side to give him better access. His teeth tugged on her earlobe. She let out a ragged moan.

Lord, how she pleased him. He'd never taken this much time to woo a woman before, but then, he'd never taken a virgin to his bed, either. Nicholaa was his wife, and he was determined to make this first union perfect for her. Her own uninhibited response to his touch made him feel as though it was his first time, too. His hands shook, and the ache in his groin had become painful.

"Nicholaa, take your nightgown off."

He had to pull her arms away from his neck before she could obey him. She bowed her head, turned, and slowly walked over to the side of the bed. She was a little surprised her legs would support her. His kisses had left her feeling weak, light-headed. Her heart pounded a thundering beat when she pulled her gown up over her head. She hurriedly tossed the garment on the foot of the bed, lifted the covers, got under them.

Royce stripped off the rest of his garments, his gaze on Nicholaa all the while. She was still nervous. Her eyes were tightly closed, and she wouldn't look at him. His nudity obviously embarrassed her. He smiled at his wife's innocence while he snuffed out the candle flame. A soft glow from the hearth cast a golden light over Nicholaa's face. Nothing else was visible to him, because she'd pulled the covers up to her chin.

He went to her side of the bed and pulled the covers aside. He didn't give her time to shield herself or move away from him. He came down on top of her, bracing his arms on either side of her shoulders so his weight wouldn't crush her.

The contact of his body against hers almost shattered his control. It was the most wonderful feeling he'd ever experienced. She was so soft all over. He suddenly wanted to touch her everywhere. His heart started slamming inside his chest, and he had to take a deep breath to try to regain his discipline.

The initial touch of his body against hers overwhelmed her. He was so hard, so hot, so big all over. He seemed to swallow her up. When he forced her thighs apart with his knee and settled himself between her legs, his hardness pressed against her pelvis, she went completely rigid.

The time had finally come, she realized. She braced herself for the pain she'd heard so much about. She took a ragged breath and tried to prepare herself for his invasion.

Royce kissed her forehead, then looked down at her. He waited for her to open her eyes. Then he grinned at her. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Lord, he sounded pleased with himself. He looked happy, too. Royce didn't act at all like a man crazed with lust, either. When that realization settled in her mind, she began to relax. "It feels strange to me," she admitted.

She rubbed her toes against his legs. His crisp hair tickled her. The differences between their bodies amazed her. The heat from his chest against her breasts made her nipples ache in an odd, heavy way. His arousal, nestled intimately against the juncture of her thighs, made that heavy, warm feeling permeate her stomach and pelvis, too. It felt good to her, and yet she ached at the same time. The feeling was as confusing to her as her sudden awareness that Royce didn't seem to be at all affected by their closeness.

The fear had left her eyes. Now his wife looked disgruntled. He wondered what thoughts were going through her mind now.

"You do want me, don't you, Royce?"

He almost laughed. She sounded worried. The effort to act as though he had all the time in the world to bed her had been worth the agony, he told himself. If Nicholaa had any idea of the battle he was undergoing to keep her calm, if she could guess what he wanted to do to her, she'd probably swoon.

"Yes, I want you. Can't you feel me against you? I ache with my need for you, Nicholaa."

Her eyes widened. "You ache?"

He nodded. He took her hand and shifted his weight so she could touch his hard arousal. Yet the second her fingers brushed against him, his forehead dropped on top of hers and he let out a ragged groan.

She was both curious and terrified. When he moaned, she pulled her hand away. He put it back. She knew then he liked her touch.

"Royce?"

He gritted his teeth against the fear he heard in her voice, then let out a sigh. "Yes, Nicholaa?"

"We won't fit."

He lifted up to look into her eyes again. She wasn't teasing him. The worry was there in her gaze. His smile was filled with tenderness. "Aye, we will fit," he promised her in a husky whisper.

Her fingers closed around his shaft. He closed his eyes in blissful surrender. The pleasure her touch gave him amazed her. It made her feel bold-powerful, too. She squeezed him. He growled, then pulled her hand away and put it around his neck.

He was taking deep breaths against her neck. His warm breath sent shivers down her legs. "I'm glad you want me," she whispered. "Is there something I should do to help you?"

He kissed the blush on her cheek, then kissed the bridge of her nose. "Just tell me what you like, Nicholaa. I want to please you."

She gently stroked his face. "I want to please you too, husband."

His mouth covered hers then. The kiss was hot, wet, thoroughly arousing. He gave her his tongue; she caught it between her teeth just to tease him. His growl told her he liked that. Then he nibbled on her neck again. His chest hair rubbing against her breasts felt good, and she suddenly wanted more. She deliberately rubbed against him. The warm knot inside her began to expand.

Royce liked her restless motions as much as she did. He couldn't seem to get enough of her soon enough. He kissed her shoulders while his hands caressed her breasts. When his thumbs brushed over her nipples, she arched up against him to let him know how much she liked that.

His actions weren't as deliberate now, for his control was quickly vanishing. He moved down her body until he was able to kiss her breasts. He cupped her left breast in his hand, then took the nipple into his mouth. She whimpered when he began to suckle. She clung to his shoulders and arched up against him again.

He kissed the valley between her breasts. His hand moved down between her thighs. His fingers gently touched the heat there. The soft curls shielding her virginity were damp with passion. Nicholaa tried to push his hand away, but he wouldn't be deterred. "You'll like this," he promised before his mouth claimed hers again for a long, hot kiss.

His thumb rubbed against her most sensitive spot. She arched up against him and moaned into his mouth. White-hot desire claimed her. She kissed him with a passion that left him shaken. Royce slowly forced his fingers inside her slick, tight opening. His own desire was almost completely out of control now. A sheen of perspiration covered his brow. Nicholaa felt hot, wet, wonderful. His mouth clung to hers, and his tongue slid in and out in a mating ritual that his fingers mimicked until she was bucking against his hand and whimpering with pleasure.

He couldn't wait any longer. He moved between her legs, spread her thighs farther apart, and slowly began to penetrate her. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades. She squirmed, trying to get away from him, and inadvertently took a little more of him inside herself. He stopped when he felt the shield of her virginity blocking him. He tried to be gentle as he pushed through the barrier. She wouldn't let him. She tightened against him and tried to push him away.

He soothed her with honeyed words while he stroked her backside. She didn't understand his intent when he lifted her thighs higher up on his hips.

"Don't fight me, Nicholaa," he whispered.

She barely understood what he was telling her. Her mind was a riot of emotions. She was trembling with desire, and yet the ache he was causing made the pleasure and the pain blend into such confusing feelings. She didn't want him to hurt her, but she didn't want him to stop, either.

He didn't give her any warning. With one powerful thrust, he broke through the shield and fully embedded himself inside her.

Nicholaa cried out in pain. She clung to her husband, buried her face against his neck, and demanded that he move away from her.

He wouldn't obey her.

"Royce, you're hurting me."

Bracing his weight on his elbows, he kissed her hard. His hands cupped her face. Nicholaa tried to move away from him again, but his weight made that impossible. Tears streamed down her face. She was throbbing with pain, though in truth the raw feeling had eased.

The look on Royce's face was intense, determined, and yet there was tenderness there as well. "It's going to feel better soon," he whispered. He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Give me just a minute, sweetheart. Then I'll help you like it."

She didn't want his help. She wanted him to get off of her. He tried to kiss her again. She turned her face away from him. Royce followed her. He tugged on her lower lip with his teeth until she opened for him; then he kissed her long and hard.

Royce didn't know how much longer he could maintain his control. The sweet torture of holding still inside her made him throb with pain. He wanted to slam into her tight sheath again and again until he found his release and spilled his seed into her.

He wanted her to want that as much as he did, though. Her pleasure was far more important to him than his own.

The longer he kissed her, the more she relaxed. Royce was deliberately giving her body time to adjust to him, and when she finally began to caress his shoulders, he thought the initial pain might have eased.

His hand moved down between their joined bodies. Nicholaa caught hold of his wrist and tried to stop him. "Let go, Nicholaa," he ordered, his voice a ragged whisper. "You'll like this."

She couldn't stop him. He was right, too, she realized with a sigh. She did like the way he was touching her now. His fingers knew just where to stroke. When his thumb brushed against the sensitive nub hidden between her soft feminine folds, she almost came off the bed. The pleasure was intense, consuming.

He kept up the sweet torment until she felt as though her body had turned to liquid in his arms. Her whole body instinctively tightened around him. He groaned in reaction. He partially withdrew, then sank deep inside her again.

Her control was slipping away. She couldn't seem to catch a thought and hold on to it. The pressure building inside her was unbearable. She wanted Royce to stop, for she was suddenly terrified by the feelings overwhelming her, and yet she didn't want him to stop, and that scared her even more.

"Royce, I can't-"

He silenced her protest with a deep kiss. "It's all right, love. Don't be afraid. I'll keep you safe."

His soothing words pushed her fear and her control away. He would keep her safe. Nicholaa's heart accepted what her mind couldn't sort out. She let the feelings take over. She pulled her knees up so that she could take him deeper inside herself, and then arched against him with bold insistence.

His control snapped. He thrust into her again and again, mindless now to everything but giving her fulfillment and finding his own. The mating ritual took over. The bed rocked with his forceful thrusts. And hers.

She knew she was coming apart in his arms. She didn't care. She called his name as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Her climax was so shattering she started to cry.

When he felt her tighten around him and cry out his name, he found his own release. He poured his seed into her with a grunt of surrender.

She thought she might have died. Yet her heart was pounding so furiously that she knew she was still alive. When Royce let out a low groan and collapsed against her, she thought he might be feeling much the same way.

She was blissfully exhausted and thoroughly astonished by what had just happened to her. She closed her eyes and tried to make sense out of the wonderful act.

It took Royce a long while to recover. He didn't want to move. The scent of their lovemaking still hovered in the air around them. He liked that. He liked his scent on her, too.

God, he was content. It seemed so right to hold Nicholaa in his arms. It was as though she'd always belonged to him.

"Royce?"

He grunted his answer.

"You're crushing me."

He reluctantly rolled onto his back. She snuggled up against his side and used his shoulder for her pillow.

Her fingers caressed his chest. "Did I please you, husband?"

His hand covered hers. "Yes, you pleased me."

She waited a long minute to hear more praise, then whispered, "And?"

He yawned. "And what?"

She waited again for him to give her more compliments. He waited for her to explain what she wanted from him.

Neither said a word. It didn't take Nicholaa long at all to start feeling vulnerable. She shivered and rolled away from Royce. She was beginning to feel embarrassed over her wanton behavior. His silence was tarnishing their beautiful union.

Nicholaa pulled the covers up and turned away from him. Tears filled her eyes. She didn't understand why she felt like weeping, but she did. She hoped Royce wouldn't know how foolishly she was behaving. He'd ask for an explanation, and since she didn't know why she was feeling so sad, she certainly wouldn't be able to tell him.

"Nicholaa?"

His voice was gruff with affection when he whispered her name. "Come back here."

"Why?"

"It's where you belong."

That wasn't a compliment by any means, but the joy she felt was there all the same. She rolled back against his side. Royce put his arms around her and pulled her tight against him.

There weren't any more compliments, or fervent declarations of love either. He did kiss her on the top of her head, though.

It was just a simple little kiss.

But it was enough.