Medieval 01 - Untamed

wife. Help me to bring peace to the land .
    The words were so distinct that at first Meg thought Dominic had spoken aloud to her. With the next breath she realized it was the past she was hearing, when Dominic had emerged from poison’s snare and looked at her with eyes as clear as the sacred spring at the base of the mound.
    Work with me, wife. Help me to bring peace to the land .
    How?
    Blend Saxon and Norman blood. Give me sons .
    In a silence that brimmed with possibilities, Meg looked at the thick, ragged fringes of Dominic’s eyelashes and the loosely curling forelock that was often concealed beneath a battle helm. She remembered how soft and cool his hair felt between her fingers, how warm it was at his scalp, and how well he liked to feel her nails lightly drawn over his skin.
    Gently Meg ran her palm over the supple leather shirt Dominic wore beneath his hauberk. Under the shirt’s laces lay a thatch of dense black hair. Thick, springy, it was unlike the smooth hair on Dominic’shead. She wondered if this hair would feel as intriguing between her fingers as it did to her fingertips. No sooner had the thought come than she found herself picking apart the laces so that she could slide her fingers unhindered beneath.
    With a small sound of pleasure, Meg discovered that the muscular contours of Dominic’s chest were both warm and resilient, and the dark furring of hair teased her palm irresistibly. She caressed him with slow movements of her hand, smiling at the pleasure it gave her to touch him so.
    A subtle change in the tension of Dominic’s body told Meg that he was awakening. Reluctantly she ceased her petting and began to ease her fingers from his shirt.
    A hand hardened by war came down over Meg’s, holding her palm against Dominic’s chest.
    â€œDon’t stop,” he said huskily, “or I shall be even more jealous of Black Tom than I already am.”
    Meg’s smile widened. She lifted her head until she could look down into eyes that were the clear, uncanny silver of a sacred Glendruid spring.
    â€œOr do you prefer stroking Black Tom because he has more fur than I?” Dominic asked whimsically.
    â€œI doubt that. You feel quite wonderfully furry to me.”
    Dominic’s breath came in swiftly when Meg’s hand slipped inside his leather shirt and she began petting him once more. Pleasure rippled through him, for the expression on her face told him that she was enjoying the stroking as much as he.
    â€œAre you cold?” Meg asked, concerned.
    â€œNay.”
    Dominic’s voice was very deep and his eyes were smoky with a lazy, teasing sensuality that Meg had never before seen in her husband.
    â€œYou shivered,” she pointed out.
    â€œYes.”
    His hand shifted. The back of his index finger caressed Meg’s cheek, her jawline, the nape of her neck, the hollow of her throat. The caress drew a quivering sigh from her.
    â€œAre you cold?” Dominic asked.
    His eyes said he knew very well what the answer would be.
    â€œNay,” Meg said. “Is that…?”
    He made a questioning, almost purring sound and pressed her hand beneath his once more. He rubbed her palm over his chest, and as he did, he twisted slowly against her touch like a cat.
    â€œIs that why you shivered?” Meg asked curiously. “My touch?”
    â€œYes. Your touch. And you shivered at mine. Touch me some more, small falcon. Make me tremble.”
    â€œWill you like that?”
    â€œI don’t know. I have never trembled at a woman’s touch before now.”
    Hesitantly, then with greater confidence, Meg stroked Dominic’s chest beneath his shirt. The warmth of him was delicious, as was the deliberate movement of his body against her hand, redoubling the sensual petting.
    â€œYou are indeed like Black Tom,” Meg said.
    â€œFurry?”
    â€œAnd warm. And supple.” She tested Dominic’s muscular chest with her fingernails. “And strong. And sleek. And…altogether quite wonderful.”
    Laughter and sensual response tangled in Dominic’s throat. The result was a low, rough sound.
    â€œAnd you purr, too,” Meg teased. “What a wonderful thing is a catlike man. Do you also catch mice in your teeth?”
    â€œI fear not.”
    â€œAh well, perhaps Black Tom can teach you.”
    Dominic laughed in the moments before his breath caught. Meg’s slender fingers had found the smooth