It was.
Adalind was still facing away from them, hand over her mouth, when David finally let go of her and made his way timidly towards Maddoc. Rhys and Christopher did, too, going to the young knight who still had his enemy’s head shoved in the water even though the man was clearly dead. When they attempted to force Maddoc to let Brighton go, he refused. He stayed where he was, partially covering Brighton’s body with his own, using his weight to pin the man down, as he held his head under the water.
“Maddoc.” Rhys had his hands on Maddoc’s wrists in an attempt to force him to release Brighton. “It is over, lad. Let him go.”
Maddoc closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. “Not yet,” he grunted. “It is not over yet.”
Rhys and David exchanged concerned glances as David gave it a try. “Maddoc,” David said. He had his hands on the man’s shoulders. “Let him go, now. He is dead.”
Maddoc refused to release him. He was still in the heat of battle, still fighting for his life, and not at all convinced yet that it was finished. As his father, David, and even Christopher tried to force him to release the body, Adalind came up on the opposite side of the trough.
Her gaze was adoring yet sad, powerful yet soft. She stared at Maddoc, seeing such fear and pain in his expression. As strong as he was, she could see his vulnerability at that moment and it touched her like nothing else. He had been afraid, too; afraid that he would lose the fight and everything he had dreamed and hoped for would never come to pass. The man, the perfect knight, was human, too. She had never seen that side of him before.
“Maddoc?” she said, her voice breaking. “Maddoc, please let him go. I want to go home now.”
Her soft, teary voice caused Maddoc to lift his head and look at her. She was standing on the other side of the trough, looking down at him with tears on her face. When their eyes met, she reached across the water and peeled his fingers off of Brighton’s neck.
“Please, Maddoc,” she whispered. “It is over. I want to go home.”
Grown men could not accomplish what one small lady could. Maddoc let her remove his hands and he allowed her to pull him away from the trough as Christopher and Rhys pulled Brighton out of the water. Maddoc tried to turn around, to look at the body of his opponent, but Adalind wouldn’t let him. She put her arms around him and walked him away from the scene, directing them towards their horses.
When Maddoc tried once more to turn around and survey the scene, Adalind put her hands on his face and held him staunchly.
“Nay, Maddoc,” she whispered firmly. “Brighton is dead. The battle is over. Now it is our time to live and love and enjoy. No more Brighton; no more anything. You did what you set out to do; you defeated him. Now let us speak no more about him, not ever. He no longer exists to us so we can get on with our lives.”
Maddoc was starting to collect his wits, his composure, as he listened to her speak. He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly, so very weary and battered. But he had Adalind and that was all that mattered.
“Whatever you wish, Addie,” he murmured, kissing her head, getting his blood on her hair. “We shall go home.”
Adalind pulled back to look at him, wiping the blood from his nose and mouth with a corner of her cloak. He looked shaken while she felt strong; so very strong. She would remember the moment forever. It was the beginning of the rest of her life with him.
“I have waited for this moment for ages past,” she whispered. “In so many forms and in so many lives, I have waited for this. I have been yours since the day I took my first breath and shall remain yours until the end of time. Take me back to Canterbury and let us begin anew, as husband and wife. I cannot tell you how thrilled I am for this moment, Maddoc. Finally, to have you as my own.”
He was warmed and comforted by her words. The energy of battle was fading and he was starting to feel normal again, empowered, knowing there was so much more to life than he could possible imagine. The little girl who had annoyed him to tears and declared her love for him endlessly had grown up and become his all for living. He couldn’t remember when he hadn’t loved Adalind. She completed him.
“As I have you for my own,” he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. Then he tweaked it playfully. “When I entered the bailey those weeks ago to find the ap Athoe brothers fighting over you, I could have never known that, in the end, I would have been fighting over you as well. I suppose they were not idiots, after all, because they were right.”
Adalind grinned. “About what?”
“You,” he whispered, his smile fading and his bright eyes intense. “You are worth it.”
As Adalind and Maddoc lost themselves in a kiss of pure love, pure joy, the sun came out from the clouds and the promise of a bright and beautiful day dawned clear and blue.
EPILOGUE
Four years later
His face was buried in her neck, smelling the sweet musky scent that had the ability to arouse him like nothing else. He could feel her soft breasts against his bare chest, feeling the sensual movement every time he thrust into her. Her legs were wrapped around his hips but he unwrapped them, holding them behind the knees, giving him more freedom of movement as he continued to pound into her sweet and yielding body. At some point, he shifted so his weight wasn’t bearing down on her and bearing down on the babe in her belly. He shifted so they were on their sides, facing each other, as he slowed his thrusts.
Adalind had her hands on his lower back, stroking it, stroking his smooth buttocks as he made love to her. She loved it when he slowed his pace, withdrawing completely only to plunge into her again, slowly, driving himself to the very hilt and then repeating the process. Her hands drifted between their bodies, putting her fingers on his phallus as he joined his body with hers. Nothing seemed to drive Maddoc crazier than her fingers on his manhood and he groaned as she fingered him, gently fondling his testicles.
Shifting again, Maddoc captured a warm nipple in his mouth, suckling gently and tasting her milk. She was still breastfeeding their younger son but he couldn’t help himself from sampling the sweet milk from her breasts. She had such beautiful breasts. He suckled strongly on the left one, tasting her, licking her flesh with her milk upon his tongue and then licking her again just to lick it off of her. One big hand came up to fondle her breast, kneading it, suckling until there was no more milk in the left one. When he moved to her right breast, she stopped him.
“No more,” she whispered into his dark head. “What are you going to tell Macsen when there is none left for his morning meal?”
Maddoc growled, returning his attentions to the left breast and suckling even though there was nothing left.
“I will tell him that his father is greedy,” he murmured against her flesh. “If he was any older, I would fight him for the privilege of claiming it all for myself.”
Adalind giggled softly but her giggles turned to groans when his thrusting gained pace and she could feel herself building to a climax. It was before dawn, the best time to make love before their day began and their two little boys awoke and demanded attention. This was their time, warm and cozy under the covers, sometimes making love two or three times before the sun rose.
Maddoc could feel Adalind’s tremors beginning and he thrust hard, grinding his hips against hers, and feeling her powerful release. As she panted beneath him, he erupted deep within her, loving the hot, wet feel of his seed in her body. He held her buttocks in his hands, holding her firmly against him as the last of his convulsions died. With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes to say something to her but caught sight of a big blue pair of eyes staring back at him from beside the bed. Startled, Maddoc discreetly shifted so that Adalind’s naked chest was covered from view.
“Good morn, Steffen,” Maddoc greeted his eldest son calmly. “You are up earlier than usual.”
Steffen de Aston du Bois had his father’s bright blue eyes, dark hair, and big build. He also had his demeanor, rather calm and easy-going, except when he woke up in
the morning. He and his younger brother by thirteen months, Macsen, were known to be unhappy terrors in the morning and Adalind often had her hands full with the both of them. At nearly three years old and nearly two years old, they were a joyful handful, and very smart. They were learning to unlatch doors and sneak up on unsuspecting parents.
“Dada,” Steffen rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I am hungry. I want mush.”
Adalind, buried under Maddoc’s body, carefully pulled herself out from underneath him and fumbled around under the coverlet for the shift Maddoc had pulled from her body in the heat of passion.
“I am coming, Steffen,” she assured her little boy as she found the shift and pulled it over her head. “Where is your brother?”
Steffen didn’t say anything but he pointed under the bed. Maddoc looked over the side of the bed, hanging upside down and peering under the big rope and oak-framed bed to find another pair of bright blue eyes gazing back at him from the darkness.
“Macsen?” he held out his hand to the child. “Come out of there, lad.”
Macsen de Lohr du Bois, the same size as his older brother even though he was more than a year younger, took his father’s hand and let the man pull him out. As Adalind climbed out of bed and went in search of her robe, Maddoc reached out an enormous arm and pulled Steffen into bed with him. When Adalind found her heavy robe, put it on, and began hunting for her slippers, she happened to glance at the bed and saw that Maddoc was laying there with two dozing toddlers. Hands on her hips, she went over to the bed.
“What is this?” she asked, pointing to the bed. “What did you do to them?”
Maddoc grinned at his wife. “It was evidently a ploy to get you out of bed so they could steal your place.”
Adalind rolled her eyes but she was grinning. “I would believe that,” she said, turning away as she continued to hunt for her shoes. “They have been plotting since the moment of birth to deprive me of sleep. They have succeeded, too, for the most part.”
Maddoc grinned, snuggling with his boys as his wife pulled on her doeskin slippers. “Perhaps the next child will be different,” he said softly. “Perhaps that one will be more considerate and obedient.”
Adalind gently rubbed her swollen belly; nearly seven months into the pregnancy, she was still round and rosy, not huge and ungainly that would come in the end months. Maddoc thought it was the most beautiful time of her life.
“This child shall be a girl,” she said flatly. “She shall be sweet and obedient, unlike these boys you allow to rule the house and hold.”
Maddoc struggled not to laugh. “I do not allow them anything,” he said. “Blame your grandfather if you must. He pouts like a spoiled lad every time we discipline them.”
Adalind threw up her hands. “Papa is an old man,” she said. “All he ever wanted was boys in the family but instead, he got eight women. Of course he pouts when we discipline the boys. He is afraid we are killing their de Lohr spirit.”
“They are du Bois offspring.”
“They are descended from the House of de Lohr.”
They’d had this argument many a time. Maddoc put his big hand over Steffen’s head, muting his ears, when the boy stirred at the sound of his mother’s raised voice.
“They do not look like a de Lohr,” he whispered, taunting her. “They look like me.”
“And this child shall look like me,” Adalind said firmly. She waved a hand at the bed. “Get them up, Maddoc. ’Tis time to rise and break their fast and get on with the day.”
Maddoc kissed each boy and tossed back the covers, climbing out of bed stark naked as he went in search of his clothing. The room was warm from the banked fire and rich furnishing so he felt no chill as he found his breeches and pulled them on. Meanwhile, Adalind went to the bed and pulled two sleepy boys from the covers. They clung to her, yawning, as Macsen started to whine. When Maddoc turned around and saw her carrying two toddlers with her petite size and pregnant belly, he immediately went to her and took the boys from her.
“Go downstairs,” he told her. “I will finish dressing and bring them down.”
She waved him off. “Willow is already down in the hall, preparing their meal,” she said. “I do not have to lift a finger with my sister and mother around.”
He smiled faintly. “I am surprised Willow is up and moving considering how late she stayed up last night.”
Adalind fought off a grin. “The arrival of your brother was cause for celebration.”
“Celebration, indeed. I was hardly able to speak with him with Willow hanging all over him.”
“Willow is in love with Trevor,” she told him what he already knew. “She wants to marry him.”
He grunted. “He is too young.”
“He is twenty years and three. That is not too young.”
Maddoc wasn’t sure what to say, mostly because anything he said about his brother’s age or reluctance to marry sounded like an insult towards her sister. But mention of her sister and Trevor’s arrival reminded him of something else; a missive had come for Adalind yesterday via messenger, something that was delivered to David who in turn gave it to Adalind. She hadn’t mentioned it to Maddoc but David had. He didn’t know what was in it, but the rider had been from Yorkshire. Maddoc wondered who could be sending his wife a missive all the way from Yorkshire although he had a good idea.
“Perhaps not,” he finally said. “He did bring a missive from my father, however. It would seem that my brother Evan is betrothed to a local heiress in Navarre. Perhaps we will have a wedding to attend next year, after all.”
Adalind lifted her eyebrows, surprised and pleased. “That is excellent news,” she said. “I hope he does not get married before the baby is old enough to travel. I have never been to Navarre, and I should like your mother and father to see their grandchildren.”
“I will make sure Evan understands his life revolves around your schedule before making his wedding plans,” he said, winking at her. In his arms, Steffen wanted to be set down so Maddoc lowered the boy to the ground. “Speaking of missives, your grandfather said you received one yesterday. You have not made mention of it.”
Adalind’s warm expression vanished. She lowered her gaze, grasping Steffen by the hand when the little boy toddled close. After a moment, she sighed.
“That is because I was not sure what to say about it,” she said quietly. “I was going to tell you, of course, but the subject… well, it is a sensitive one.”
“Who was it from?”
“Glennie,” she said. “It would seem that she is getting married and has invited us to attend.”
Maddoc sobered as he made his way over to the bed, sitting on the edge with a dozing Macsen cradled against his shoulder.
“She must not know what happened with Brighton,” he said softly. “Otherwise, I am sure she would not have invited us.”
Adalind nodded sadly. “Brighton was buried in Maresfield,” she said. “The priests knew who we were but they did not know where Brighton hailed from. No one ever told them. And Norfolk… he knew that Brighton came after me when I escaped from Arundel. So if Brighton never returned to Arundel, surely d’Aubigney could figure out what happened. Surely he must have suspected Canterbury was involved in Brighton’s disappearance, and if Brighton’s family came looking for him, would Norfolk not tell them what he knew?”
Maddoc sighed faintly, stroking her blond head. “I have gone months or even years without any contact with my family,” he murmured, kissing her temple because she looked so upset. “Daniel is even worse; we have gone years without seeing him at all. It has only been four years since everything happened with Brighton so it is quite possible the de Royans do not even know he is missing and presumed dead.”
Adalind looked at him. “But if Glennie is getting married, surely they have sent word to Norfolk for Brighton, and surely d’Aubigney will send word that Brighton has not been at Arundel for four years. If she does not know of her brother’s disappearance, then she will so
on.”
“What do you want to do, then? Do you want to tell her the truth?”
Adalind shook her head, picking Steffen up when the boy whined and setting him on the bed between them.
“I do not want to tell her,” she murmured. “But she was so good to me for so long, Maddoc. She was my only friend during those dark years at Winchester. But she knows nothing about what happened with her brother and I do not see the good in telling her such things. Let her remember her brother as she wishes to, without my stories of abduction and battles. I would not burden her so with such things.”
“She would think different of you, I suppose.”
“It is not me I worry about. It is you.”
“Why?”
She turned to look at him, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Because you are the most wonderful husband in all the world,” she said honestly. “You are the man I love, the man I have always loved, and we have the most wonderful life together imaginable. You are strong and true and loyal, and you did what you had to do. I will not have anyone hate you for doing your duty. Not even Glennie. Let her remember her brother as she chooses, for I will remember you only as my hero.”
He smiled, leaning forward to kiss her on the lips and laughing softly when Steffen didn’t take kindly to it. The child was rather possessive of his mother and tended to get upset when his father showed affection towards her.
“What will you tell your friend, then?” he asked. “She will be expecting an answer.”
Adalind sighed thoughtfully, hugging Steffen when the boy stood up and put his arms around her neck.
“I will thank her for the invitation but tell her I cannot travel because of the impending child,” she said. “We will leave it at that.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. But since I am being denied Glennie’s wedding, you had better tell your brother to offer for my sister’s hand. I have a yearning to attend a wedding this year and since I cannot travel, the wedding will have to be here.”
Fathers and Sons: A Collection of Medieval Romances Page 61