Always
Page 20
"You missed working in the stables," Aric finished for her.
She glanced up quickly to see if he was angry. Seeing his gentle expression, she nodded hesitantly.
He nodded back, then bent to press gentle kisses to her lips, her cheek, and her ear. Then he whispered, "You may attend the stables in the future."
She froze. "My lord?"
Pulling back, he nodded solemnly. "Your skill is valuable, 'Twould be a shame to keep you locked here in the keep and waste it. The new stables will be done in a day or so. Until then, you will have to make do with the old one. I--" His words halted on a grunt of surprise as she suddenly threw her arms around him with a squeal of delight.
"Oh, husband! You are wonderful. The best husband a woman could have. Truly, my father was wise to pick you!"
Aric felt himself go all soft inside at her praise and he closed his arms around her, holding her tightly as she babbled on in happy gratitude. Smiling slightly, he buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the scent of her. She smelled so good, so sweet and natural. His hand slid up and down her back, then farther down, curving over her bottom through her gown as he began to nuzzle her ear.
"My lord," Rosamunde said softly, and drew back slightly.
Aric lowered his lips at once to cover hers, giving her a quick kiss. She sighed as he drew his lips away, and upon hearing it, he kissed her once more, slower. Again she gave a broken little sigh when he stopped, and he couldn't resist recovering her lips with his own. This time he kissed her thoroughly, rejoicing in her little mewls and sighs of pleasure before forcing himself to stop.
"We shall continue this after sup," he murmured, nipping at her ear.
"Oh, Aye. Please," Rosamunde said softly, her eyes glittering with desire.
Smiling, Aric took her hand and led her to the head of the table as the first of the dinner crowd began to filter into the hall.
"Well." Covering his mouth, Aric feigned a long loud yawn that drew everyone's curious gaze. "It has been a rather long, eventful day. Do you not think?"
"Oh, aye, my lord husband," his wife murmured, her solemn expression belying the laughter sparkling in her eyes. "Most long. And tiring, too."
"Aye, exhausting," Aric agreed, his own expression so solemn it was almost mournful. "Mayhap we should--"
"Rosamunde tired?" Robert interrupted with a laugh before Aric could finish his suggestion that he and his wife retire early. "Impossible!" Leaning forward, Robert peered past Rosamunde and Aric to address Lord Burkhart on his son's other side. "She was always the last to sleep and the first to awaken on our journey from Godstow. She inherited her father's fortitude, I think."
"Nay. I did not," Rosamunde denied quickly. "I was j-just excited by the experience of my first journey."
"Nay." Robert shook his head. "You rose ere the birds...every morning!" He leaned forward again, telling Lord Burkhart, "Why, one morning she had risen, bathed, caught a rabbit, skinned it, cleaned it, skewered it, and built a fire to cook it over, and was done cooking ere we even awoke."
"She was just excited by the journey--as she said," Aric snapped, irritably. "She is tired now."
"I do not believe this!" Robert crowed. "She cannot be tired. 'Tis early yet and--" He paused, swallowing the rest of his words in surprise. Rosamunde had kicked sideways underneath the table, hitting him in the ankle. "What did you do that for?" He gave her a hurt look.
Rosamunde rolled her eyes at his expression. "I am sorry, my lord. You see, I am so tired I am losing control of my limbs." Standing abruptly, she turned to Aric, brushing a hand gently across his cheek though he continued to sit glaring at his friend. "I think I shall retire early."
Giving a start at her touch, Aric glanced up, his expression softening as he read the promise in her eyes. "Aye. That is a good idea," he said in a growl, the anger in his eyes replaced by a different fire. Standing, he took her arm. Muttering a good night in the general direction of the table, he escorted Rosamunde across the hall and up the stairs.
They had nearly reached the top before Rosamunde gave in to the giggle at the back of her throat, but once she had started, she couldn't seem to stop. And when her husband paused on the final step to peer down at her, she collapsed against him, muffling her amusement in his chest. She finally raised her head to say with a gasp, "I thought sure you were going to hit him. You looked so angry."
Aric's lips slowly curled upward in amusement as well. He admitted, "I was thinking about it. 'I do not believe it. 'Tis early yet,'" he mimicked his friend with annoyance, then sobered as he peered down into her laughing eyes. "But he is right. 'Tis early yet." Moving closer, he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
"Aye," Rosamunde said softly, turning her face to his caress. "And we have all night."
With a groan, Aric tugged her into his arms for a long, deep kiss right there at the top of the stairs, his lips and tongue bringing her to tingling life even as his hands began to rove over her body. Rosamunde withstood it for several moments, then tugged away, caught his hand, and rushed down the hallway. He allowed her to pull him along until they reached the door to their bedchamber. There he drew her up short. Twirling her around, he tugged her into his arms again, his mouth capturing hers.
Moaning against his lips, Rosamunde slid her arms around his neck. Delving her hands into his hair, she tangled her fingers there, arching into him as his hands skimmed down her back, molding her to him. She felt his hardened desire press against her; then he slid his hands between them and up over her body until they covered her breasts.
Jerking in his arms, Rosamunde kissed him hungrily, excitement burning through her as he pressed her against the door, one of his knees riding up between her legs and pressing against her. Then he grazed his hands down her outer thighs, caught her skirts, and slowly pulled them up until he was able to slip his hands beneath and around behind. He caught her by the backs of her thighs. Lifting her upward, he urged her legs around his waist, then lifted her into his arms before feeling behind her to unlatch and open the door. He stumbled inside with her riding his hips, pushed the door closed, and staggered to the bed still kissing her.
Laughing breathlessly when he released her lips, Rosamunde tipped her head back and closed her eyes as his mouth nibbled and bit her neck on a path downward. When his knees bumped against the bed, he tumbled forward with her, dropping her to its soft surface. He followed, but caught his own weight with his hands so that he didn't crush her.
Rosamunde immediately began tugging at his clothes. Pulling his tunic upward, she pushed it over his chest, pressing kisses to that wide expanse as he grabbed the material and drew it over his head. Eyes narrowing in appreciation, Rosamunde ran her hands over the heavily muscled flesh, then leaned up to catch one pebblelike nipple between her teeth. She smiled in satisfaction when Aric closed his eyes and lifted his head with a groan of pleasure. In the next moment, he had caught her face between his hands and brought her lips back to his. His tongue thrust aggressively into her mouth as he impatiently tugged at the lacings of her gown.
Phfffphhphphttt.
Aric stiffened, his mouth stilling on Rosamunde's briefly before he slowly lifted his head.
"What is it?" Rosamunde asked in confusion.
"I thought I heard something," he muttered, frowning.
"I did not hear anything," she said impatiently, tugging his face back down to hers. Covering his lips with her own as he had repeatedly done to her, she slid her tongue boldly out to explore his mouth. Her hands made their way over his chest.
Aric remained still for a moment, then took over the kiss, his hands pulling the bodice of her gown open and tugging it down her shoulders and arms until her breasts popped free. Tugging his mouth away from hers then, he curled a hand around one breast and lowered his mouth to suckle at it eagerly.
Phfffphhphphttt-phft-phft-phffphhphhphpht!
"Now I know I heard that," Aric said, lifting his head to peer at his wife. Suspicion filled him when he saw that her eye
"Sweet Jesu," he said with horror. "You...you...He..." He closed his eyes briefly, but when he opened them, the horse was still there.
"Well," Rosamunde drew out the word and winced. "You said to move him ere the sup."
"So you moved him to our chamber?" Aric cried with disbelief, then closed his eyes. He slowly counted to ten as his wife began to babble in explanation.
"I meant to put him in a spare chamber--but your father is in one, Lord Shambley in another, and then there are Bishop Shrewsbury and Lord Spencer and..." She paused and he could feel her shrug beneath him. "There no longer is a spare chamber."
"Wife," Aric began carefully, but Rosamunde did not wait to see what he would say. Pulling quickly from beneath him, she tugged the bodice of her gown back in place and hurried across the room toward the horse.
"I am sorry, my lord. Honestly, I forgot all about him."
Sighing, Aric flipped over onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he listened to her continued chattering.
"He is most likely just thirsty. Are you not, Blackie? Poor you. Here you are ill and feverish and I forgot to fetch you more water."
Turning his head, Aric watched morosely as his wife fussed over the horse and bent to retrieve an empty pail. Pushing himself to his feet, he grabbed his shirt and quickly tugged it on. "I shall send a servant up with fresh water," he announced grimly, taking the pail from her as she started for the door.
Pausing, Rosamunde eyed him with alarm as he pulled the door open. "But where are you going?"
"Below."
"Below? But what about..." Flushing, she glanced away and toward the bed unhappily.
Aric followed her gaze, then glanced back to Black. The horse emitted another loud, noxious emission. "I need a drink," was all he said. With that, he stepped into the hall and tugged the door closed with a snap.
Shoulders slumping, Rosamunde sighed unhappily. Her breasts still ached for his touch. And they weren't the only place she was aching.
Black whinnied and clip-clopped across the floor to nuzzle her shoulder.
Sighing again, Rosamunde raised a hand to pat his clothing-wrapped nose. "'Tis all right, Blackie. Everything will be all right."
Other than a couple of raised eyebrows, no one had questioned what Aric was doing back at the table so soon after having left it. He'd ignored those few inquisitive looks, though, in favor of concentrating on some serious drinking. And by the time Shambley, the last man at the table besides himself, had decided to call it a night, Aric was seriously drunk.
Stumbling to his feet, he staggered up the stairs with his friend. Wishing Robert a good night, he weaved his way to his bedchamber door, which seemed to have a serious problem staying in one place. It now danced around in his vision like a firefly.
Zeroing in on it, he unlatched and pushed it open, then tottered into the room. Inside, his wife was sound asleep in the center of the bed. She certainly did seem to like to take the whole bed, he thought somewhat peevishly as he closed the door. Turning then, he made a face and wagged one finger at Black. He didn't say anything, just wagged his finger, and even he would have been hard-pressed at that point to figure out what he was forbidding the horse to do.
He continued on to the bed, tugging and fretting at his clothes as he went, so that he had only to remove his brais by the time he reached it. Swaying on his feet, he pushed them down over his hips, then tried to step out of them--raising his knees high and stumbling around in the effort, until he lost his balance and dropped onto the side of the bed.
"Hmmm. That's better," he decided, realizing that the room tended to move less sitting down. He also decided that he didn't really need to take his brais all the way off. Leaving them tangled around his feet, he collapsed back upon the bed, then rolled toward its middle until he bumped up against his wife's warm body. Cuddling close, he threw his arm across her, his hand automatically squeezing the breast it landed on as he promptly passed out.
He was having those erotic dreams about his wife again.
Aric was riding through the woods at a trot. Black was healthy and strong beneath him--and also no longer had a flatulence problem. The day was warm and sultry, and Aric had started to sweat in his tunic and brais when he came upon Rosamunde. She was wearing the white gown she had worn the day of their wedding. Standing with her back to him, she gazed upon Goodhall where it was nestled in the valley below, but turned suddenly upon hearing his approach. Smiling seductively when she recognized him, she opened her arms in welcome.
"You are the most wonderful of husbands."
Aric straightened in the saddle at her soft words, then slid from his mount. He strode forward to take her masterfully into his arms--and as soon as they had closed around her, his wife's white gown disappeared. A growl slipping from his throat, Aric ran his hands over her naked flesh, then caught them up in her deep red tresses. He tugged her head back to press a kiss onto her lips.
Cool air moving across his own flesh made him pull back slightly to see that he, too, was now naked. Thrilling at the sensation of her soft skin against his rougher body, he kissed her again, his tongue delving into her mouth. She was all soft coos and mewls as she arched against him, rubbing against his excitement, her hands clutching at his shoulders, then dropping over his back and down to his buttocks to knead the flesh there and urge him closer still.
The breeze seemed to suddenly pick up then, chilling his vulnerable flesh and Aric frowned and nestled closer into the warmth of his wife's body. He pulled his lips from hers and kissed a path over her chin and down her neck to the delicate hollow at the base of her throat. He would have continued on down to find her breasts, but just then it started to rain, great drops of the warm liquid splashing against his cheek. Grimacing, Aric muttered under his breath, the sound of his own voice awakening him from his dream to find that it hadn't all been a dream. Rosamunde was naked and warm in his arms, sleepy gasps and moans still slipping from her lips. His lower body was nestled against hers.
And it was chill. An early morning breeze was blowing into the room and the bed linens were missing, leaving them uncovered. No doubt the sheets had slipped to the floor, he thought fuzzily, then grimaced again as another drop of warm liquid splashed upon his cheek. Rolling onto his back, Aric found himself staring into a hideous, elongated, clothes-covered animal face. If that wasn't startling enough, there was a long, slimy gob of liquid hanging precariously from the apparition's nose, ready to drop onto him. That explained the rain in his dream, some part of his mind realized. He gave a startled shout of alarm and tried to avoid his horse's dripping nose. He jerked instinctively to the side, banging his head into Rosamunde's.
"What? Huh?" Rosamunde gasped, awake at once and grabbing at her head in pain as she sat up. "What is about? What is wrong?"
"Get that damned horse out of here!"
Blinking the last of her sleep away, Rosamunde turned to see her husband doing his best to scramble out of the way of a drooling and runny-nosed Blackie. The horse was standing at the side of the bed, its head hanging over where Aric had been lying a moment before.
"Oh, dear!" She gasped, leaping up and hurrying around to quickly urge the horse away from the bed. "Blackie, what are you doing? Poor thing, do you have a runny nose?" she cooed.
"Aye, and he dribbled it all over me," Aric snapped with disgust, wiping at the liquid on his cheek with a grimace.
"Oh, dear." Rosamunde said again and sighed. She bent quickly and picked up Aric's discarded tunic from the night before to swiftly wipe the mess away from the horse's mouth and nose.
Realizing what she was doing, Aric began squawking. He leaped from the bed to stop her. "What are you doing? Oh, God, that is my tunic!"
"Oh." Rosamunde peered down at the crumpled--and now quite revolting--tunic guiltily before asking, "Surely you have another one, my lord. A man of your stature must have more than one tunic."
"Aye, I do," he said grimly. "That green one there wrapped around Black's head, and the blue one on his tail."
Biting her lip, Rosamunde peered at the shirts Aric spoke of and briefly considered taking them off, then decided he probably wouldn't appreciate the gesture. Glancing back at him unhappily, she shook her head woefully. She had muffed up again. "I am sorry, my lord. I was not thinking when I wrapped all of our clothes around Blackie! I was just worried about how unhappy you would be if he should fall seriously ill."
Aric's anger left him as quickly as it had come. She had done all of this for him, trying to please him. He felt himself go all soft and warm inside, just as he had when she had proclaimed him the the most wonderful of husbands. Aric could not remember the last time a woman had acted out of consideration for him. Certainly Delia had never bothered to during their long betrothal. From childhood on, she had expected that he would do things for her, while she merely sat about looking pretty. But then, Rosamunde is not Delia, he reminded himself. He smiled wryly as the thought struck him that it had been silly to make that mistake. The two were nothing alike. Delia would not have cared about Black's illness no matter how upset Aric might have been. Besides, she had been dark-haired, short, and plump, while Rosamunde with her red hair was willowy and fair--and completely naked at the moment, he realized with interest. Of course, she also had the despondent air of a chastised puppy.
That simply would not do.
Stepping forward, he tugged Black's reins from her limp hand and headed for the door, dragging the reluctant horse behind him. He wasn't at all pleased that his mount suddenly seemed to prefer Rosamunde's company to his own, but he wasn't terribly surprised either. He himself was becoming inexplicably fond of her as well.
Opening the door, Aric ignored his own nakedness and half pushed and half tugged the horse out into the hall, nodding abruptly at his father as the older man passed by. He ignored the stare he received. Pushing the door closed, Aric moved slowly back across the room toward his miserable-looking wife.
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