Tallie's Knight

by Anna Gracie

  classical look about it--the new fashions, like the new French

  Republic, paid homage to the Ancient Greek and Roman ideals.

  Tallie could hardly believe the reflection which stared back at her

  from the mirror when Monsieur Raymondo had finished. Her face seemed

  quite a different shape; she looked elegant. almost pretty. Her eyes

  seemed larger, her horrid nose not so pointy, and curly wisps of hair

  caressed her cheeks and highlighted her cheekbones.

  Monsieur Raymondo showed Tallie several ways to arrange her hair. She

  could put it up and hold it with a crescent, like the goddess Diana.

  She could wind a spangled scarf around her head, wear it in long, snaky

  ringlets a la Sappho or in the unique style Monsieur Raymondo had

  invented for her. Milady was now completely a la mode. Tallie

  expressed some concern that she would not be able to manage the new

  hairstyles, but her husband called a smartly attired young woman into

  the room and introduced her as Monique, Tallie's new maidservant and

  dresser. Tallie's mouth fell open. She had never in her life had

  someone dress her.

  But she didn't have time to question anything, for then a shoemaker

  arrived. He measured her feet, produced a pair of jean half-boots and

  two pairs of smart kid slippers for immediate wear, and promised to

  send a dozen new pairs within the week.

  Finally, Magnus announced that if the dressmaker delivered as she had

  promised, Monique could take Tallie shopping on the morrow, so that she

  could be fitted out with all the other falderals women found so

  indispensable. Tallie's head was aching by this time and she took

  umbrage at his tone.

  "I do not wish to go shopping tomorrow," she announced.

  "I have done without falderals quite happily--well, almost happily,"

  she amended honestly, 'for all my life. " She took a deep breath and

  faced him, her hands clasped to her chest.

  "I do not wish to sound ungrateful, indeed I am truly very grateful for

  all these beautiful things you have bought for me--' Magnus stiffened

  uncomfortably. So much for wishing for a grateful wife. He found he

  did not want gratitude from her at all.

  "It must have cost you a tremendous--' She flushed suddenly and

  muttered, " I am sorry. I know it is vulgar to refer to money. But I

  do thank you for all the purchases you have made on my behalf. I

  cannot remember when anyone gave me. " She broke off and scuffed her

  foot against the Turkish rug on the floor. Her eyes were bright with

  unshed tears, Magnus noticed, before she ducked her head down to hide

  them from him. There was a short pause before she resumed.

  "It is only... I do not want to waste any more time in shopping for...

  for things. I want... I want so much to see Paris. Already I have

  been here a full day and a night, and I have seen nothing except this

  room.

  Could we not. " Her eyes fixed on his, wide with entreaty.

  "If I wore a cloak, no one could see my clothes and you need not

  mind..."

  Magnus stood up, affronted. She thought he was ashamed of her clothes,

  ashamed to be seen in her company. She thought he had hidden her away

  until she was fit to be seen. To his chagrin, he found there was an

  element of truth in the unspoken accusation. Though he was not ashamed

  of her--he just wished her to feel equal to those clothed in the very

  finest.

  "It is too warm to wear a cloak," he said, 'but if you wish it, there

  is still time for us to see something of the city. "

  "Now?" she blurted, surprised.

  "Yes, immediately. If you are not too tired."

  "Oh, no, I am not," she said, her eyes shining.

  "Oh, Magnus, thank you. I will just fetch my hat." She hurried from

  the room and returned in a moment, fitting an old-fashioned bonnet to

  her head. He watched her tie its strings.

  "I wished only to please you," he said stiffly.

  "I did not think of how you must feel, cooped up in here all day, when

  you have looked forward so eagerly to our arrival."

  Her face fell.

  "Oh, no, I did not mean to criticise--' He interrupted her.

  "Shall we?" he said, presenting his arm. Tallie was enchanted with

  Paris. She loved the narrow streets and the incredibly tall stone

  houses--some as many as seven storeys high. She admired the public

  buildings with the slogans ofLiberte, Egalite, Fraternite and

  Indivisibilite written on every one. She especially loved the wide,

  elegant boulevards, so thickly planted with trees the branches almost

  met in a cool green arch. And under those branches there seemed to be

  a constant scene of festivity.

  Parisians did much of their social ising out of doors, and Tallie

  adored the outdoor cafes, where it seemed a thousand happy people sat,

  quaffing lemonade, wine, cider, beer or coffee. They strolled through

  parks where she was delighted by the "Theatres for the People' as |

  they were called--outdoor booths with conjurers, puppet | shows,

  menageries and music, always music playing some- I where, on an organ,

  fiddle, harmonica, tambourine or flute.

  And when, finally, night fell, and she thought they must return to the

  hotel, Magnus took her to a place where a thousand lamps sparkled like

  fireflies in the branches of the trees, and a hundred flickering

  candles lit tiny intimate tables. There he ordered champagne and a

  meal, and Tallie ate her first dinner in Paris out of doors, totally

  enraptured. The food was delicious, but she could not recall

  afterwards what it was, for she was entranced by the sights and sounds

  of Paris all around her, and by the sight of her handsome, silent,

  considerate husband, who had so splendidly made amends for his earlier

  ineptitude.

  And afterwards they strolled back to their hotel.

  And Magnus came to her room.

  Chapter Ten

  Tallie braced herself and gritted her teeth. The tension was

  unbearable. She couldn't stand much more. Her body was sheened in

  sweat. She clutched the sheets on either side of her stiffened body

  and imagined them shredding under the pressure. She knew exactly how

  they felt--if sheets could feel, that was.

  "Oh, for heaven's sake get it over with," she gasped. "I can't take much more of this!"

  Magnus, naked and sweating from his labours, froze. He stared at his

  bride of two weeks, outraged. Never, never had any female dared to

  suggest he was less than adequate in the bedchamber! And this chit,

  barely out of her virginity, was daring to criticise! He swung himself

  away from her body, and she gathered the sheet against her to cover her

  nakedness.

  Tallie stared at his furious face, appalled at her own lack of tact.

  She hadn't meant to say it--it had just slipped out.

  "I'm sorr--' she began.

  "So I should think!" he rapped. "I've never been so insulted in my life."

  "Well, but--' " Do you think it is easy for me, making love every night

  to a bride as cold and unmoving as a corpse? "

  "I have no idea, never having considered-the matter, although it seems

  to me you do not exactly dislike
the procedure. In any case, it is

  very difficult for me, too!" Tallie was incensed by his criticism.

  "You have no idea how difficult. It is pure torture!" "Torture?"

  Magnus's grey eyes glittered with rage.

  "Torture is it?"

  He was mortified. Furious. He had half a mind to storm out of the

  bedchamber and abandon her then and there. He glared down at her. It

  would serve her right if he throttled her where she lay, clutching that

  sheet so inadequately, provoking a response from his body despite his

  fury. He wanted to rip the sheet away and tumble her until she cried

  for mercy!

  Except that she already had!

  He was her husband, for God's sake! And she was his wife! His wife!

  He had every right to take her when and how he liked! And besides, she

  owed him children.

  "Well, madam wife," he said stiffly, "I am afraid you must endure more

  of that torture until you are with child."

  "I know it!" she retorted.

  "And if you care to recall, I did not tell you to stop. I said to

  hurry up and get it over with. The sooner I am with child, the better,

  I say."

  "Very well, then," he muttered grimly, and, ripping the sheet from her

  clutches, he returned to his labours. By God, he would wring a

  response out of her if it killed him!

  He used every skill and technique in his repertoire, stroking,

  caressing, teasing, his hands and mouth fully occupied.

  "Enough!" she shrieked, pushing him off her at last.

  "I can do it no more."

  "Do what?" he snarled, frustrated.

  "You're doing nothing."

  "Well, of course I am doing nothing--what else would I do? And it

  takes every bit of concentration I have. Why can you not simply get on

  with it? Why must it take so much time?"

  Concentration? Magnus swore. And was she complaining about the amount

  of time he took? If so, she was the first woman in his experience ever

  to complain of that. He started to pull on his clothes. He had no

  intention of staying in a room with her any longer, otherwise he might

  find himself strangling her. And it was simply not done to murder

  brides on their bride trip. Not in his family, at any rate.

  "I understand now what my cousin meant. It is inhuman to expect women

  to endure that night after night," said Tallie rebelliously, wrapping

  the sheet tightly around her.

  Magnus paused, one leg sliding into his trousers.

  "What do you mean--what your cousin meant?"

  "My cousin warned me that my marital duties would prove to be difficult

  and painful."

  He frowned.

  "Painful? I am causing you pain?"

  "No... not pain, precisely. It... it is just... unbearable."

  She continued muttering angrily into the pillow while he finished

  dressing. Magnus attempted to block out her ugly words. So his

  lovemaking was unbearable to her, was it? Then his ears picked up one

  sentence and he was riveted.

  'to be forced to lie there night after night, not moving or uttering a

  sound, while a husband creates wondrously pleasurable sensations. "

  Wondrously pleasurable sensations? Magnus dropped his shirt.

  "What did you say just now?" he demanded, his voice harsh.

  She blinked up at him. There were tears in her eyes.

  "You said, " wondrously pleasurable sensations"."

  Tallie sniffed and dropped her head.

  "Yes, well..." She turned a deep, fiery pink.

  Magnus stared down at her with narrowed eyes. Part of him wanted to

  storm out and give vent to his injured masculine pride. The rest of

  him wanted to solve the mystery. It seemed to hinge on one point--my

  cousin warned me.

  He sat down on the bed.

  "Tell me, Tallie. What exactly did our dear cousin Laetitia tell you

  about your marital duties?"

  With much blushing and hesitation Tallie attempted to explain what her

  cousin had told her concerning her marital duties.

  "And I have tried to remain still and dignified, truly I have..." She

  hung her head.

  "I am sorry I have found it so difficult, but the... the things you do to

  me. well. "

  Wide amber eyes, awash with tears, met his in a quick, fugitive glance, and she dashed a small hand across her wet cheeks.

  Her nails were chewed to the quick. Magnus felt as if someone had

  reached into his chest and squeezed his heart until it hurt.

  "Please, my lor--Magnus, let us try again. I promise I will behave

  better this time. I have found that saying my multiplication tables

  can be helpful..."

  Magnus could not believe his ears.

  "Saying what is helpful?"

  She hung her head lower. Tawny locks tumbled around her face, hiding

  it from him and exposing her delicate, creamy nape. He longed to plant

  a kiss on it, but was too distracted by her incredible words.

  "You have been saying your multiplication tables while I make love to you?"

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "So that you will not be distracted by my lovemaking?"

  A tiny sob came from beneath the mop of hair as she nodded.

  "And you think that this will please me?"

  She nodded again.

  "Because my cousin told you I would have no respect for you if you

  responded? And that you would shame your family and mine if you did

  anything other than lie as still as a corpse?"

  "Yes," she snuffled.

  Magnus did not know whether to laugh or explode with rage. Rage won.

  "Bitch!" he swore violently.

  Tallie flinched. Magnus saw it and swore again.

  "I didn't mean you, my dear." He reached out and laid his hand on her

  shoulder. He felt her tense, and his heart clenched in his chest

  again. So small and naive and vulnerable. and his--all his-despite

  his bitch of a cousin and her malicious attempt to ruin his marriage.

  "Come here, sweetheart," he murmured. "I'm not angry. Not with you.

  Come, there is no need to be upset anymore. " Gently he slid an arm

  around her resisting body and pulled her against his side. She still

  wouldn't look at him. He could feel repressed sobs convulsing through

  her.

  "My cousin is a spiteful, malicious bitch," he said softly, 'and the

  advice she gave you was completely and utterly wrong. "

  The sobs suddenly stopped on a long, shuddering gasp.

  Magnus continued, stroking her soft, smooth skin as he spoke.

  "She did it to cause trouble between us." He paused, and tightened his

  arm around her.

  "But she hasn't succeeded, has she? Because I'm not angry with you;

  I'm angry with her."

  Tallie let out a long, quavery sigh and at last he felt her relax

  against him. Something unwound inside Magnus.

  "Come, Tallie, look at me," he murmured, putting a gentle finger under

  her chin. Slowly she looked up at him, her woebegone, tear-drowned

  face pale, her up tilted nose damp and rosy.

  "You're not angry with me?" she whispered.

  He shook his head.

  "No. Are you angry with me?"

  She stared at him, surprised, and suddenly tears began to well up in

  her eyes again.

  "No, of course not," she muttered, and with a tiny choke of relief
fell

  into his arms.

  "I love you, Magnus," she wailed, and, completely overwrought, she

  burst into tears against his bare chest. Magnus gathered her close and

  held her tight, feeling as if the very foundations of his life had just

  been shattered.

  I love you, Magnus.

  Her head was tucked into the curve between his shoulder and his throat

  and he could feel the warmth and dampness of her tears as she sobbed,

  clutching him as if she'd never let him go. His cheek rested against

  her hair and he closed his eyes and held her and wondered what had

  become of him. Never in his life had he felt like this--so attached,

  so linked, so committed to another soul--and with absolutely no idea of

  what to do about it.

  He was all at sea in a storm, with no anchor and no rudder and no one

  and nothing to guide him. except his heart. a heart which, in all his

  twenty-nine years, had neither given nor received love. I love you,