Read Online Wolf Bride by Elizabeth Moss - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Moss
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the litter, stooped to arrange these at the water’s edge for them to sit upon.
Suddenly Eloise looked round, seeing him amongst the trees.
Surprise flashed into her face, and a resentment which was quickly hidden as their eyes met.
‘My lord,’ she murmured, dropping a low curtsey. ‘This . . . this is a pleasant spot.’
He smiled, then his gaze narrowed on his bride-to-be. At that angle, he could see right down her low-cut gown. His gaze dwelt thoughtfully on that shadowy cleft between her swelling breasts, and for a moment he imagined how she would look naked, riding atop of him in bed, long golden hair tickling his chest, breasts thrust towards his face.
Behind the solid leather constraint of his codpiece, Wolf felt his cock twitch and stiffen. He looked forward to their wedding night with a desire so urgent it took even him by surprise.
He had enjoyed many women since that first clumsy night with Margerie, as courtier and soldier, and knew the undeniable pleasure of a willing mouth and a knowing body. But Eloise was a virgin, he reminded himself, and would need to be broken in gently.
One of the men hurried down the slope with a cloth-covered basket of provisions supplied by the tavern that morning for their journey, then returned to where the others were sitting under the trees, passing round a bottle of beer and heartily tucking into their own victuals.
With great eagerness, the maid Mary began to lay out their wrapped parcels of food, then invited her mistress to sit. ‘There is fish and fowl to be had, Mistress Eloise, and sweetbreads, and a few slices of manchet. Best eat before it spoils.’
Seeming to hesitate, Eloise turned to him with a careful smile. ‘Will you join us, my lord? There is more than enough here for three.’
He stared, a little taken aback by this unexpected invitation. But perhaps she was warming to his courtship. Wolf had his own supplies in his saddlebags, but decided he should not waste this opportunity to know his bride better.
‘Gladly,’ he agreed, and threw himself down on the damp grass in a careless fashion, stretching out his legs beside her. ‘Is there beer?’
‘Wine,’ she murmured, and poured him a cup.
He took the wine with a muttered ‘Thanks,’ and tossed it back, entertained by how Eloise’s gaze widened at his lack of knightly etiquette.
Well, his manners were more suited to the battlefield than the court, and it was best she understood that straightaway.
‘Venison pie, my lord?’
He nodded, and took the thick slab of pie with relish, biting into it so hard the jelly oozed about the sides and ran down his chin. With a harsh laugh, he shook his head when she offered him a napkin, and wiped his chin on his sleeve instead.
Eloise averted her gaze, so missed him grinning like a boy at her expression of distaste. But the maid did not, and stared from one to the other in surprise.
His uncouth manners were partly for show, for Wolf knew well how to behave in the company of ladies. But he would be damned if he had to treat his new bride as daintily as Venetian glassware. She was from the hardy north like him, not a soft-natured southern maid, and must already know the ways of Yorkshiremen to be rough and ready.
Why pretend otherwise just because he had learned to kiss hands and bow in the dance like a courtier?
‘Not bad, this pie. At least the tavern’s luncheon fare is better than its beds. I might as well have slept on the bare boards last night, for all the comfort I enjoyed in my bed.’ He paused, glancing at Eloise. ‘How about you? Were you comfortable in your bed last night?’
To his amusement, she blushed. ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she stammered. ‘Yes.’
‘I am glad to hear it.’
He held out his cup to be refilled, and their eyes met fleetingly as she poured the wine. Greenish-dark eyes, slanted, her lashes long and thick.
Yes, the girl had the makings of a beauty. Not conventionally, for she lacked feminine grace, her
Suddenly Eloise looked round, seeing him amongst the trees.
Surprise flashed into her face, and a resentment which was quickly hidden as their eyes met.
‘My lord,’ she murmured, dropping a low curtsey. ‘This . . . this is a pleasant spot.’
He smiled, then his gaze narrowed on his bride-to-be. At that angle, he could see right down her low-cut gown. His gaze dwelt thoughtfully on that shadowy cleft between her swelling breasts, and for a moment he imagined how she would look naked, riding atop of him in bed, long golden hair tickling his chest, breasts thrust towards his face.
Behind the solid leather constraint of his codpiece, Wolf felt his cock twitch and stiffen. He looked forward to their wedding night with a desire so urgent it took even him by surprise.
He had enjoyed many women since that first clumsy night with Margerie, as courtier and soldier, and knew the undeniable pleasure of a willing mouth and a knowing body. But Eloise was a virgin, he reminded himself, and would need to be broken in gently.
One of the men hurried down the slope with a cloth-covered basket of provisions supplied by the tavern that morning for their journey, then returned to where the others were sitting under the trees, passing round a bottle of beer and heartily tucking into their own victuals.
With great eagerness, the maid Mary began to lay out their wrapped parcels of food, then invited her mistress to sit. ‘There is fish and fowl to be had, Mistress Eloise, and sweetbreads, and a few slices of manchet. Best eat before it spoils.’
Seeming to hesitate, Eloise turned to him with a careful smile. ‘Will you join us, my lord? There is more than enough here for three.’
He stared, a little taken aback by this unexpected invitation. But perhaps she was warming to his courtship. Wolf had his own supplies in his saddlebags, but decided he should not waste this opportunity to know his bride better.
‘Gladly,’ he agreed, and threw himself down on the damp grass in a careless fashion, stretching out his legs beside her. ‘Is there beer?’
‘Wine,’ she murmured, and poured him a cup.
He took the wine with a muttered ‘Thanks,’ and tossed it back, entertained by how Eloise’s gaze widened at his lack of knightly etiquette.
Well, his manners were more suited to the battlefield than the court, and it was best she understood that straightaway.
‘Venison pie, my lord?’
He nodded, and took the thick slab of pie with relish, biting into it so hard the jelly oozed about the sides and ran down his chin. With a harsh laugh, he shook his head when she offered him a napkin, and wiped his chin on his sleeve instead.
Eloise averted her gaze, so missed him grinning like a boy at her expression of distaste. But the maid did not, and stared from one to the other in surprise.
His uncouth manners were partly for show, for Wolf knew well how to behave in the company of ladies. But he would be damned if he had to treat his new bride as daintily as Venetian glassware. She was from the hardy north like him, not a soft-natured southern maid, and must already know the ways of Yorkshiremen to be rough and ready.
Why pretend otherwise just because he had learned to kiss hands and bow in the dance like a courtier?
‘Not bad, this pie. At least the tavern’s luncheon fare is better than its beds. I might as well have slept on the bare boards last night, for all the comfort I enjoyed in my bed.’ He paused, glancing at Eloise. ‘How about you? Were you comfortable in your bed last night?’
To his amusement, she blushed. ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she stammered. ‘Yes.’
‘I am glad to hear it.’
He held out his cup to be refilled, and their eyes met fleetingly as she poured the wine. Greenish-dark eyes, slanted, her lashes long and thick.
Yes, the girl had the makings of a beauty. Not conventionally, for she lacked feminine grace, her
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