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.
Chapter Twelve
Royce had already left the bedroom when Nicholaa finally awakened. Sunlight streamed through the open window. When she realized it was late morning, she was astonished. She'd never slept this long, or this soundly. It was decadent, she supposed with a happy sigh.
She felt wonderful until she got out of bed. The tenderness between her thighs drew her attention then. Her legs were stiff, too. The discomfort didn't blemish the memory of last night, though. Nothing could ever mar the beauty of their lovemaking.
She was officially his wife now, she realized with a smile. She'd done her duty and pleased him, too.
They could have a good life together. Royce was a good man. He was a Norman, of course, but he was also kind, considerate, and understanding.
Nicholaa lingered in the bedroom until she realized it was embarrassment that kept her hidden. She wasn't certain how she should behave when she saw Royce again. Would he want her to kiss him in greeting? She shook her head over that fanciful notion. The man was a warrior. Of course he wouldn't want her to kiss him in daylight. He probably wouldn't want her to show any sign of affection in front of his men. Still, if they chanced to meet each other alone in a corridor, then…
She let out a loud sigh. She was being foolish. She had a household to run, and there were many pressing duties that required her immediate attention. She shouldn't be wasting her time worrying about her husband's wants and her own embarrassment.
Nicholaa dressed in a pale blue gown with a cream-colored underskirt, then hurried downstairs. Odd, but she didn't run into a single servant along the way.
A sizable group of knights had gathered in the great hall. They stood in a cluster around the long table. Only three men were seated. She spotted Royce right away at the head of the table. He was half turned away from her, speaking in a low voice to his men. Lawrence sat on Royce's right, and the young blond man named Ingelram sat on his left.
Everyone seemed tense. Nicholaa assumed an important secret meeting was in progress, and she didn't know if she should interrupt. Then Lawrence happened to look up. He noticed her, smiled, and nudged Royce.
Her husband slowly turned his head. He didn't smile. He simply looked at her for a long minute, then beckoned her forward.
Odd, but she thought she saw a glimpse of relief in his expression, but that didn't make any sense. Why would he be relieved to see her?
She pushed that thought aside while she tried to hide her irritation. Lord, how she hated it when he beckoned to her. Couldn't the man call out a decent greeting? And why couldn't he come to her side once in a while? Nicholaa decided to put those questions to him as soon as they were alone.
Everyone watched her as she walked across the room. She felt awkward and unsure of herself, a feeling that was new to her and one she didn't like at all.
She took a deep breath. "Pray forgive me for interrupting your conference, husband," she called out. "I-"
She came to an abrupt stop, then let out a low gasp of surprise.
Little Ulric was home. The baby was sound asleep, nestled in the crook of Royce's arm. He was wrapped in a sparkling white blanket, and only his face was visible to her.
Nicholaa stared at her beautiful nephew while she struggled to contain the tears that came into her eyes.
She didn't even realize she'd rushed to Royce's side. He grabbed her around the waist to hold her steady. When she finally looked up at him, his breath caught in his throat. The joy in her gaze warmed his heart.
Royce couldn't imagine why her pleasure meant so much to him, but he accepted the truth that her joy had become his joy as well.
Nicholaa felt a tear slip down her cheek. She wiped it away. "Thank you."
He nodded.
"Shall I take Ulric abovestairs so that you may continue with your conference?" she asked.
"The servants are cleaning his chamber," Royce answered. He tightened his hold around her waist when she tried to move back. "We weren't in conference," he added almost as an afterthought.
"But you were whispering…" She suddenly realized why. "You kept your voices low so you wouldn't disturb the baby."
He nodded again. He let go of her, then stood up and placed Ulric in her arms. After motioning to his men to leave the hall, Royce started toward the entrance. Then he suddenly turned around and walked back to her. He grasped her chin, leaned down, and kissed her hard.
She was clutching his tunic with one hand and clutching the sleeping babe with the other when he pulled back. "You are feeling well today?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.
It took her a minute to concentrate on what he was asking her. Then she nodded. "You've just given me back my nephew," she answered. "How could I not feel well?"