Only then did she shift to straddle him, taking care that her ankle was not too painfully positioned before guiding him into her. With her hands on his shoulders, she leaned down and kissed him deeply as she began to move, rocking back and forth, letting his response tell her whether to go faster or more slowly.
He began to knead her breasts and her own need overtook her. Faster she went, and faster, her breathing erratic, the tension building. He groaned, a sound more like a growl from deep within his chest, and he bucked like a wild horse new to the saddle. At nearly the same time, her whole body seemed to clench. She held on tightly to his shoulders in her ecstasy, until he gasped and said, between his panting breaths and laughter, “Have mercy, wife! I fear you’re going to break my collarbone again.”
Flushed and sweat-slicked, she gingerly moved off him and lay back down at his side. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“If that is what you do in ignorance, I can hardly wait to see what you do when we’ve been married for a few years,” he said, smiling before he kissed her.
“I wanted to show you that I enjoy being intimate with you.”
“In that, beloved, you’ve succeeded admirably.” He toyed with a lock of her hair. “I was hoping your hair was long again beneath that veil and cap and wimple. I was afraid they’d made you cut it off.”
“The mother superior did try more than once, especially the time I had a fever. That was an excuse, though, and we both knew it. Fortunately, Sister Sylvester forbade it, saying it might upset me too much and make the illness worse. I don’t think she really thought so, though. I think she was as aware as I that the mother superior sought to punish me that way. I’d spilled her wine when I was serving the evening meal the day before.”
“She wanted to cut your hair off because of an accident? God’s wounds, she’s worse than I thought!”
Celeste colored and snuggled against him, and in a small voice said, “It might not have been an accident.”
“You spilled her wine deliberately?”
Celeste raised her head to look up at him. “She’d been very cruel to one of the new girls that day.”
He laughed again, louder this time. “I have indeed married a marvel of a woman. And now I know what it means should you spill my wine.”
“I won’t have to do that if I think you’ve done wrong. I’ll tell you.”
With love shining in his eyes, he smiled. “Good. As I’ll tell you if I think you’ve done something...not quite right. Now, since we are both so determined to be good, I reluctantly suggest we climb out of bed, dress and get to the hall before somebody comes up here to see if we’re still alive.”
“And I’m starving,” Celeste said, rising from the bed. “No doubt you are, too, after all your exertions.”
He didn’t answer as she limped to the washstand.
Instead, he hurried to her and said, “I was right! We did too much and now your ankle’s worse.”
“Not worse,” she said. “It’s well bandaged and the liniment worked wonders. Still, I think I should rest for a few more days. In bed.” She sighed with false dismay. “I hope I won’t be too bored.”
He laughed, just as she’d intended. “I’ll also require some assistance getting dressed,” she noted.
“It will be my pleasure,” he replied with equally bogus gravity.
It took them some time to dress, and not because of her ankle. However, she was eventually garbed in another gown Bartholemew and Marmaduke had thoughtfully provided. It, too, had been Audrey’s and was one of the few simple ones she’d possessed, of light green wool. Gerrard donned his usual shirt, tunic, breeches and boots.
When they were ready to join the household in the hall, he swept her into his arms again. He raised his brows as if expecting her to protest, but instead she wrapped her arms around his neck. “This once,” she said, kissing him lightly, “because of my ankle. In future, I don’t expect to be carried everywhere.”
“Not even if I enjoy it?”
“It’s not exactly dignified, and the wife of the lord of Dunborough should be dignified, don’t you think?”
“Only in public,” he said with a seductive look that made her blush before he carried her down the steps and into the hall.
Where Sir Roland of Dunborough and DeLac sat waiting on the dais, looking as grim as a judge about to pass sentence for a heinous crime.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Celeste felt a lurch of dread when she saw Gerrard’s stern twin, and she gripped her husband tighter. Roland was dressed all in black, without a hint of color at collar, cuff or hem of his long tunic. Even his sword belt was black, and his expression was as stoic as it had ever been, without a hint that he even knew how to smile. How any woman could have fallen in love with him remained a mystery, no matter what people said.
“Greetings, Roland,” Gerrard said as calmly as if he always arrived in the hall with a woman in his arms. “Remember Celeste? My wife, Celeste.”
She expected Roland to scowl or frown. Instead, to her amazement, he smiled. It made all the difference in the world, and for the first time, he resembled Gerrard more than she would have thought possible. “So I’ve been informed,” Roland said, walking toward them, limping slightly.
“Put me down,” she whispered to Gerrard, who did as she asked. He might appear composed, but she saw the dread lurking in his eyes and remembered the quarrels and harsh words that had passed between them. More no doubt had been said and done since she’d been gone, so it was no wonder Gerrard looked worried.
But Roland was still smiling as he took her hands in his and kissed her on both cheeks. “Greetings, sister-in-law.” He reached for his brother’s hand and engulfed it with his. “Of all the things you could have done to show me that you’ve changed, Gerrard,” he said with true good humor, “marrying is the best, and especially such a worthy bride.”
“Thank you,” Gerrard said. “What brings you here?”
Before Roland could answer, Arnhelm and Peg appeared at the kitchen entrance, a petite, gray-haired woman between them. Behind them came Verdan and Lizabet. The brides appeared pleased. The grooms looked thrilled and more than a little relieved.
“As you can see, sir,” Verdan called out, “Ma’s come to Yorkshire at last. She’s goin’ to stay, too.”
“Excellent,” Gerrard replied.
By now, several servants and soldiers had come into the hall. Some hurried to offer their greetings and good wishes to Verdan and Arnhelm, others were watching the people on the dais.
Roland turned to his brother. “Although this is a joyful day, we have important matters to discuss and I would rather do so in private.”
“Aye,” Gerrard replied. “Let’s go to the solar.”
“May I join you?” Celeste asked, although in truth, she had no intention of being left behind.
Roland’s lips turned up in a little smile. “I would expect nothing less. You were always wanting to see.”
Gerrard looked less convinced and she feared he was going to refuse. Then he said, “Can you manage the stairs with your ankle?”
If that was his only concern... “I think so.”
He nodded and she was glad he wasn’t going to refuse.
Looking pleased and proud, he held out his arm to escort her. “Then let us go.”
* * *
When they reached the solar, Roland entered first and moved a chair closer to the table for Celeste. Gerrard was fetching one for himself, leaving the largest one for his twin, when Roland spotted a familiar letter and another barely started in his brother’s nearly illegible scrawl.
He pointed at it and, with his usual grave expression, said, “Now you know why I decided to come. I’ve been waiting weeks for an answer.”
“You know I’m not good at letter writing,” Gerrard replied
with a shrug of his right shoulder, “and I hadn’t yet made up my mind about your generous offer.”
“You could have sent word you were getting married,” Roland said, his dark brows drawing together in a frown. “As your older brother—”
“By less than an hour, and you never sent word to me that you were getting married, either,” Gerrard retorted, half rising from his chair.
Celeste began to fear that another quarrel was in the offing, until Roland suddenly smiled. “No, and now I think you can understand why I didn’t want to wait.”
Gerrard lowered himself back into the seat and laughed, a merry, rollicking sound that cleared the air of any tension. “I should say I do!”
More relaxed as well, Roland addressed a relieved Celeste. “I suppose this means you’ve forgiven him for cutting off your hair.”
“We, too, have made peace,” she solemnly agreed, although a smile played about her lips.
“And then some,” Gerrard added with a grin. “I’m glad your leg is mended enough to ride, brother.”
“Aye, it’s well enough,” Roland agreed, sitting behind the table. “I’ll stay a few days before I return, though, if you’ll permit it.”
“If I’ll permit it? You’re still the overlord here.”
Considering his next words, Roland’s pleasant mood and manner were even more surprising. “That is no longer true. It seems the king has decided two estates such as DeLac and Dunborough are too much for one man. He has decided to take Dunborough away from me and give it to you. Apparently he believes we’re sworn enemies and thinks that’s better for him. I fear the poor man is going to be disillusioned. In the meantime, Dunborough is yours by the king’s command, as well as with my blessing.”
Gerrard stared at him incredulously. “John has given me Dunborough?”
“Yes, and he’s also decided to confer a knighthood upon you. I suspect he thinks that will increase our enmity and deepen the division between us.”
“Who’s been telling the king that you and Gerrard are enemies?” Celeste asked warily.
“I have no idea who’s been spreading such rumors,” Roland replied, his expression fraudulently innocent, “unless it’s Sir Melvin. Have you ever met him, Gerrard? His estate is some miles from here.”
Sir Melvin?
“No, I don’t believe I have,” Gerrard replied.
“I have!” Celeste exclaimed. “He and his wife gave me a meal and shelter on my journey here. He’s a generous, kindhearted man but, alas, has no good opinion of you, Gerrard.” She blushed as she recalled their hospitality and the way she had deceived them. “They may not have a good one of me, either, when they find out I’m not a nun.”
“It seems none of us made a very good impression the first time we met Sir Melvin and his wife, except for Mavis,” Roland ruefully replied. “They are good people for all that and hopefully will be willing to admit they may have been mistaken about our animosity, should we decide we want the king to think all is well between us.”
Gerrard regarded his brother with wry respect. “I am to believe, then, that I must accept Dunborough with no thanks to you?”
“You should believe it, or else you’ll give me more credit than I deserve. I have no head for machinations and strategy, as you should know.”
That was indeed true, Celeste realized. Roland had never come up with plans when they were children. He merely criticized or condemned and stayed strictly within the rules.
“Or perhaps it was your wife who influenced the king,” Gerrard proposed.
Again that look of bogus innocence came to Roland’s features. “Mavis? She’s a woman.”
“A very clever woman,” Gerrard declared. “God save me, two clever women in the family! We had best take care, Roland, or they’ll be running DeLac and Dunborough instead of us.”
“I welcome Mavis’s help and guidance,” Roland sincerely replied. “Nay, I need it. She knows more about running an estate than I do.”
“I know nothing of running a noble household,” Celeste admitted.
“You can drive a hard bargain, or so I hear, and that’s a talent I sorely lack,” Gerrard said.
“Have you given any thought to a wedding feast?” Roland asked. “Mavis will want to come.”
“Will she be well enough to travel, in her condition?” Gerrard asked.
“If I know my wife, and as long as it’s soon,” Roland said with a grin that was the mirror of Gerrard’s, “nothing I say will stop her.”
* * *
A few days later, when Celeste’s ankle was better, and a fortnight before their wedding feast, Celeste and her husband strolled hand in hand through the village. The people called out greetings and congratulations and waved as they passed.
“It seems our marriage has pleased the villagers and tenants,” she remarked.
“Not as much as it pleases me,” he said, patting her hand on his forearm and smiling warmly.
“Or me,” she replied, leaning her head against his broad shoulder. “I wish everyone could be as happy as I am today. Love is an amazing thing, isn’t it, Gerrard? It can make grim, stern men like Roland pleasant and easygoing. I must confess, I never thought he could be lighthearted.”
“I agree that the change that’s come over him is amazing, and so is his wife,” Gerrard replied, lifting her hand for a kiss. “You’ll like Mavis, I’m sure. She’s a fine woman.”
“She must be, if she can soften Roland’s heart.”
They reached the chandler’s shop and paused. The shutters were still over the windows and there was no sign of life.
“He’s gone,” Bartholemew said from behind them.
They turned to see the cloth merchants standing side by side, sad expressions on their faces. “He left the day after his son died, at dawn,” Marmaduke added.
“He loaded up a cart and drove off without a word to anyone,” said Bartholemew. “He didn’t even wait for his son to be buried.”
“No doubt he couldn’t bear to stay after...” Marmaduke began, before his voice faded to sorrowful silence.
Celeste let go of her husband’s arm. “Do you know where Ewald is?”
The two men exchanged uneasy glances. “I think,” Bartholemew said, “that he’s waiting for you at the house.”
He didn’t have to say which house, or why. The sale had been concluded, and once the deed was exchanged, it would be his, with all its memories, good and bad. “Thank you.”
Gerrard stepped forward and his smile put them all at ease again before he said, “Perhaps later you can come to the hall. I believe my bride is going to need some new clothes.”
The two men eagerly bobbed their heads. “We’ll be delighted!” Marmaduke cried.
“It will be an honor!” Bartholemew seconded.
Although she did need clothes and the prospect of pretty new gowns was pleasing, Celeste couldn’t help feeling the money could be better spent elsewhere.
“I won’t need much,” she said, after they had bade farewell to the two men and continued on their way.
Gerrard came to an abrupt halt and regarded her with outraged majesty. “My dear, you are the wife of the lord of Dunborough. You must be appropriately attired!”
She regarded him with a straight face and steady gaze. “As long as you allow me to decide what is ‘appropriate.’”
His frown was as bogus as his outrage as he started walking again. “I won’t have you wearing sackcloth and ashes, or nothing but black.”
She smiled then. “Somehow, I don’t think Bartholemew and Marmaduke would allow that, either.”
“Make way there! Make way!” a man cried out behind them. He was driving a heavy covered carriage, one Celeste recognized.
“It’s the mother superior,” she said to Gerrard.
He grinned with devilish merriment and, before she could stop him, darted forward and leaped onto the side of the wagon, one foot on the step and his hands grasping the grilled window. “Leaving without a farewell, Reverend Mother?”
Celeste could have sworn the woman cursed, and Gerrard’s next words confirmed it. “Such language from a holy woman! Tsk, tsk, what will the bishop say? Well, he’ll likely add it to the list of sins that will ensure you leave the convent of Saint Agatha’s for somewhere more...penitential.”
If the mother superior replied, her words were drowned out by the creaking wagon wheels as the carriage rolled past Celeste. She could hear Gerrard’s response, though, for it was loud and clear. “You may think you have the man wrapped around your aristocratic finger. I suspect he’ll find his backbone if he’s given enough incentive. Monetary incentive.”
She could hear the mother superior’s answer to that and gasped at the rough, uncouth language. Meanwhile, Gerrard merely laughed and jumped lightly to the ground.
“Dear me,” he said with bogus dismay as he joined Celeste once again, “I’ve never heard such language from a woman! Wherever did she learn it? Not at her mother’s knee, I trust.”
“She’ll go to the bishop right away, you realize,” Celeste warned him. “She’ll think that will give her the advantage.”
“She can think what she likes,” Gerrard said, not a whit concerned. “Between Roland, his wife, her cousin and her husband, and yours truly, we wield enough power and influence to outweigh whatever complaints she makes. I gave her a little parting gift, too.”
“A gift? You gave that woman a gift?”
“Indeed,” he said virtuously. “I went after a certain old servant and brought her back to serve the mother superior. Father Denzail has assured the mother superior that while not young, the serving woman is competent and well trained. Unfortunately, she’d fallen on hard times and grown weak, but she’ll soon be back to her old self. Alas, I fear that nun is not quite prepared for a servant who possesses such a sharp tongue.”
Celeste’s eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “You gave her Eua?”
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