Defiant Passion (Sons of Rhodri Medieval Romance Series) by Anna Markland

known,” she whispered. He could tell she didn’t know what he intended to do.
    Throaty murmurs escaped her as he stroked further and further up her thighs, until his fingers found the tight black curls of her mons. Still suckling her breast, he parted her thighs and stroked the swelling bud with his thumb. Her eyes flew open and she almost fell off his lap, but he held her firmly and continued to stroke.
    “Hush, my sweet Rhonwen. I won’t hurt you. Come for me.”
    She soon gasped his name, lost in the ecstasy of her release. For long moments he cradled her, rocking gently, his heart full.
    She recovered from her euphoria and her face reddened when she saw she was sprawled on his lap with her tunic up around her hips, her legs open.
    “Nothing we do here is wrong, my love. You’re my woman, and I want only to give you pleasure. When you’re mine completely, I’ll show you ways to paradise that will make tonight pale in comparison.”
    He felt her body heat at his words. He brought her to release after release that night, slowly sliding his fingers inside her. She cried out with intoxication and surrendered completely to the passion he was patiently teaching her to enjoy.

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    At the Winter Solstice, Rhodri’s people held a ceremony to honour the sun. Rhonwen explained to Robert and Baudoin this was to encourage the sun god to come back someday.
    Despite the remoteness of the fortress, it was well supplied. It had its own large communal kitchens made of stone which were separate from the wooden structure. There were two huge fireplaces for cooking. Most of the meals were surprisingly good and food was plentiful, but at Yuletide they enjoyed a special banquet, which began with mulled cider, followed by venison and fenberry pie. Giselle wondered aloud where they would have gathered fenberries. Rhonwen explained they grew readily in the bogs of Wales.
    Both the Countess and her maid almost fell off their bench when a roasted boar’s head was carried in. “At least this one isn’t green and yellow,” they exclaimed together.
    Giselle reddened. “Everyone is looking at us strangely, wondering what we’re laughing at.”
    Rhonwen too smiled inwardly, recalling similar feasts at Ellesmere Castle.
    An oak log was burned for twelve hours using the remains of the previous year’s log to light it. Rhonwen explained that the people would keep the remnants for next year, but the ashes would be saved to spread on the fields in the valleys below at the time of planting. This would encourage a good harvest.
    Robert gazed around, his eyes wide. “What’s the branch with spiky green leaves on the doors?”
    Rhonwen smiled. “It’s holly. The Welsh believe the evergreen with its blood red berries is a sign of fertility, and its spikes will capture evil spirits before they enter.”
    Robert frowned. “What’s fertility?”
    Rhonwen blushed and glanced at the Countess. She and the maid were suppressing giggles. Rhonwen cleared her throat. “Fertility—it means life.”
    She was relieved Robert seemed satisfied as he returned his attention to his food.
    As the New Year neared, Rhodri was the one to go outside before midnight and be the first to enter the neuadd after midnight.
    Baudoin had dozed off in Giselle’s arms. Robert yawned, half asleep. “Why is he carrying bread and a log?”
    Rhonwen replied, “Because it’s good luck for a tall, dark and handsome man, bearing food and fuel, to be the first inside the door.” Her heart raced as she spoke the words. This tall, dark and handsome man could be hers.
    That first night of the year, after watching Rhodri stride in confidently when the massive door opened to his insistent pounding, Rhonwen also had a dream. She and Rhodri were making love. It was so vivid, she was afraid she had cried out her passion. She awoke to find her hands pressed to her most intimate place. But she felt no shame. Rhodri had taught her things about her own body she had never