by Brenda Joyce
“You’ll drop me,” she cried, but she was laughing.
“Never,” he replied, but nonetheless he clutched her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What kind of game was that, Ceidre?” he asked huskily.
Her violet eyes stroked the depths of his. “An amusing one,” she said simply. “Were you not amused?”
He grunted, secretly having enjoyed such silly nonsense as thoroughly as if he were a boy of six. “This amuses me,” he said, and he bit her chin, then claimed her mouth with hard, checked passion.
“Will you take me here?” Ceidre gasped as he knelt, pushing her onto the ground.
“Here, now, in the dirt,” he said roughly, “as I have longed to do from the instant I first saw you.”
Ceidre looked at him.
He lay on his back, his head propped up with their clothes and straw, gazing absently ahead. She was draped partly over him, her chin on his chest, her legs entwined with his. He had a hand on the small of her back, and it drifted lazily, stroking her flesh right down to the full curve of one buttock.
It was that night, and they had met in the stable. Rolfe was completely relaxed, and the hard line of his mouth was softer now, hinting at contentment. He was so unbearably beautiful, she thought, and her heart was so swollen it positively ached. He glanced at her, and his blue eyes were so uncharacteristically soft that Ceidre almost choked with the ripe, bursting sensations filling her.
“Why do you stare?” he asked, his hand moving up to tangle in the thick tresses of her hair.
“’Tis easy to stare at you, my lord,” she said boldly. “You are a sight that takes a woman’s breath away. Of course, you know this.”
He smiled. “You think me handsome, do you?”
“You know I do. ’Tis a most unfair distraction.”
“Good,” he said, caressing the hair of her head. He toyed with her ear. “Then we are even, because I have long since ceased to think straight around you.”
His words brought her pleasure, and to hide it, she ducked her head, rubbing her nose into the thick hair of his chest. How could she be so contented? In the back of her mind, what was always there, nagging, niggling, annoying, and now wrenching, surged forward. This is not real, her inner voice said. You have seduced him for a purpose—and do not forget it!
She wanted to forget it, she realized, aching now in her entire being, her entire soul. Even if it was only to forget it until the day came when she must be a spy. When she had agreed with her brothers to become his mistress, she had never dreamed it would be like this; had never dreamed he would be like this. Oh, yes, he was arrogant, he was autocratic, he could be harsh and demanding, but he could also be infinitely gentle. She knew she no longer hated him. In fact, she could barely think about anything other than him when they were apart, she quickened at mere thoughts of him, much less the sight of him, and since she had come unbidden to his bed, she had discovered that she longed to be there, in his embrace, more than anywhere else.
She would not think of the future, she decided, and for now, she would pretend that this thing between them was real, unfettered by politics and treachery.
She was inadvertently caressing his arm, enjoying the many textures, the slightly coarse hair, the hard, hard bone, the nearly as hard muscle, the silky skin. She propped her chin up. “My lord? Do you not grow bored?”
He smiled slightly. “Bored?” He grinned. “Have I acted bored this night? Are you not pleased? If not, that can be remedied instantly.” His hand swept from her head to her buttocks and delved immediately lower.
She wiggled and caught his hand, stilling it. “I am most satisfied, my lord. Be serious.”
“Serious? But you would have me spend all my time playing games,” he said, and he nipped her ear. “With you.”
She pushed his jaw away. “I do not want to play games now. In all truth, you are not bored?”
He sat up, bringing her with him. “What is this about?”
“You do not want,” she said cautiously, heart pumping, “me to send for another? Mayhap Lettie, or Beth?” She looked at him.
“You wish to make a threesome?”
She punched his bicep softly. “You know I do not! Please”—and her tone was tinged with anxiety—“tell me the truth.”
His smile faded. “I am not bored, Ceidre, not with you. I do not want Lettie, or Beth, or another. I want you.”
Her heart leapt. She was exhilarated and she could not contain her feelings. She was beaming.
“This pleases you?” he asked softly, his thumb tracing her jaw.
She lowered her eyes. “Yes.”
He shifted her abruptly, so she was on her knees astride his lap, one on each side of his thighs. “I like pleasing you, Ceidre,” he said, low. “I like the way you have been looking at me this night.”
Her thoughts had started to spin away, for his shaft was tumescent again, and the tip was poised against her femininity. “Again?” She gasped.
“I wish to prove, beyond any doubt, that I am not bored,” he said.
“My lord? I beg a word with you,” Alice said, poised in the doorway of the solar, where she was confined.
It was still pitch-black out, but soon dawn would lighten the sky. Rolfe was just returning from the stable, but he was unperturbed to be caught coming in at this hour. “What is it you wish, Lady? You are up early this morn.” His tone was pleasant.
Alice stared at him. His mood was good, because he had been rutting away the night with her bastard sister. Did he think she would not know? Or did he even care? Did he even care that all the serfs were gossiping about him and that witch—and about her, his true wife? They had even been fornicating like two animals in the dirt in the orchard in the middle of the day— Mary’s husband’s brother had seen them. She knew that to show her hatred would undermine her cause, but for the life of her she did not know how she could keep her emotions out of her eyes. Yet he, the fool, was so besotted he apparently did not notice. He leaned relaxed against the wall, waiting with unusual patience. She thought she saw the hint of a satisfied smile in the corners of his mouth.
“My lord, I beg you to tell me, when will you lift my punishment?”
“You could have killed your sister,” he said, pushing off the wall, all signs of pleasantness fading. “A few days’ confinement is nothing. You have yet, I presume, to consider what you have done, yet to understand how you have defied me and displeased me. I am not ready to lift your penance, Lady, by any means.” His gaze pinned her.
“I did not know,” Alice flung bravely, “that she was your leman, or I would have treated her otherwise. She was only a traitor to my knowledge, and I treated her as such. I was looking out for your interests, my lord—for our interests.”
“Do you truly think me a fool? You despise your sister, and your jealousy has proven dangerous. Were you a man, I would do more than confine you to your chamber with your servants at your beck and call. Do not test my charity,” he warned.
“Does Guy know you are cuckolding him?” Alice snapped.
“Is your pride hurt? I am sorry, but I never intended fidelity when I married you. I do not give fidelity to any woman. If you expected such, then you were sorely deluded. Good night, Lady.”
“But with her! With that witch! With my sister!”
He turned back, livid. “I owe you no explanations. I will fuck where I will; return to your chamber.”
Alice did, slamming the door hard, then shivering, waiting with tensed expectation for him to intrude with his fury, to punish her for her insolence, beat her, rape her…. He did not come.
She had lost all her power.
She was nothing, a prisoner, with only a few servants to obey her commands. Ceidre had pushed her into this position, and Ceidre would usurp her place entirely if she did not do something to prevent it.
“If only she had died in the dungeon,” Alice muttered, fists clenched. “If only there was a way to rid myself of her once and for all!”<
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* * *
Ceidre was aware of a new deference the instant she entered the great hall for the noonday meal. She was careful not to look at Rolfe, just as she knew he did not look at her. Yet his men ceased their conversation at her appearance, parted so she could make her way through them, and one, whom she did not know, held her elbow as she seated herself. Beltain, on her right, offered her wine with a smile. She flushed hotly, despairing that everyone had learned that she was sleeping with the Norman.
She was happy to see, however, that Alice’s chair was still vacant.
Now that Guy was gone, she was on Rolfe’s right. It was disturbing. She kept her eyes down and concentrated on eating, yet once, when she reached for bread, he did too, and their hands met. Her startled gaze flew to his, as his did to hers. For a brief instant they looked at each other, and then she quickly averted her glance. Rolfe tore off a piece of bread and handed it to her politely. “After you, Lady,” he said causally.
“Thank you,” she managed, just as polite. Her ears were burning.
Ceidre knew, if everyone in the hall was aware she was the Norman’s mistress, her sister knew it as well.
She felt guilty. Alice had wanted to marry the Norman, and Ceidre knew she cherished being his wife. She was sure that she would be faithful and would willingly bear him sons. They had shared marital relations as well. Ceidre knew, with despair, that Alice had enjoyed it, for the Norman was a superb lover. She felt she owed Alice something—an explanation. But she dreaded it—Alice would only be angry. Indeed, Ceidre thought, if our roles were reversed, I’d want to kill her! If he were my husband, I would not let another woman touch him, not if I could help it!
Ceidre’s thoughts were distracted throughout the meal. Afterward, when the men were dispersing, she decided she must go and try to explain to her sister. She debated asking the Norman’s permission, then decided against it. He might forbid her from seeing Alice, either because of her punishment, or because they were wife and mistress. Ceidre was about to go outside to wait for an opportune moment to sneak upstairs, when a messenger from William was announced.
Rolfe returned to the table with the messenger, ordering everyone else out. Ceidre lingered as his men, already in the process of departing, continued to do so. Her heart was thumping. She felt a sick knot in her stomach. Would he ask her to read a missive again? Yet she did not see a scroll.
Rolfe lifted his gaze and looked at her sharply, then, seeing it was she who remained, a softness appeared in his eyes and upon his face. Ceidre bit her lip, knowing her color was high. They were alone in the hall, except for the messenger. “I will speak with you later,” he said, his tone softer than she had ever heard him use before. It was a dismissal.
Ceidre left.
“What do you want?” Alice cried, furious.
It was several hours later, and Ceidre had found the opportunity to steal unnoticed upstairs. She quietly closed the door behind her. “Alice, we must talk.”
“Talk! I don’t want to even look at you, much less talk!”
“I know you are upset, and I am here to explain.”
“Explain?” Alice laughed. “Oh, I understand, Ceidre, believe me. You cannot resist that big cock, can you? You think I do not know myself, firsthand, how much pleasure it brings?” She sneered. But there were tears in her eyes.
Ceidre could not help imagining Alice in the Norman’s arms, and it hurt. She momentarily could not speak.
“He is truly insatiable, is he not?” Alice continued, voice high. “Do you know that this morning, when he returned before dawn, we had a fight and then he took me—in the hall, on the floor?”
Ceidre stared. “I do not believe you,” she said. The problem was, it was just the Norman’s style to do exactly what Alice had described. Yet could he have still had the stamina to do so after being with her all night?
“What, are you upset? You think he will rest exclusively unto you? Hah! You know he is not a man to be faithful to any woman, and certainly not to his whore!”
Alice wanted to hurt her, and Ceidre was aware of it. This did not stop her from succeeding. Alice was right. The truth hurt. It hurt so much she had to ignore it. With resolve, Ceidre folded her arms tightly. “I did not want to become his mistress,” she said stiffly. “You know me well, Alice, you know I would never give myself willingly to the Norman—to the man who has stolen Aelfgar from Ed.”
“He raped you?” Alice sneered skeptically, but her eyes were bright with sharp interest.
It was not in Ceidre’s nature to lie, but she wanted to somehow spare her sister further pain. Instead of recalling all the pleasure she received in the Norman’s arms, she tried to focus on that first night, the first time, when he had raped her on her wedding night. “Yes.”
“You liar!” Alice shrilled. “Mary’s brother-in-law saw the two of you in the orchard—and it wasn’t rape! You were hot, he was hot! You liar!”
Ceidre paled. They had been seen? Embarrassment turned her pink. “I don’t know what he saw,” she mumbled, dismayed, realizing her attempts to explain were failing miserably. “It must—it must have been the Norman with another.”
“Liar, liar, liar! Witch liar!” Alice screamed, fists clenched. “You enjoy it, you are a whore like your mother, Ceidre. Just like your mother, only a whore, a damn whore!”
“It’s not true,” Ceidre cried, as an awful doubt raised itself. “Ed asked me to become the Norman’s mistress! Ed asked me so that I might keep a better eye on him! It was not my choice, it was my duty!”
Alice blinked. For a moment, a silence stretched between them, Alice’s face filled with growing comprehension, Ceidre horrified at what she had inadvertently revealed. “You sleep with him to spy?” Alice gasped.
“Not to spy,” Ceidre said quickly, too quickly. “Just to be aware of what he does. There is a difference! The Norman would never tell me his secrets, he is too clever.” Her words were rushed, her heart speeding on wings. “You know the Norman would never tell me anything, Alice!”
Alice was stunned, and so excited she could barely contain herself. How could Ceidre be so stupid—to tell her this! She was a spy! She was using the Norman!
Ceidre wanted only to escape. “I do not ask your forgiveness,” she whispered, “but I had to explain. He really did rape me, and I really had no choice!”
Alice said nothing. Ceidre hurried to the door and left. Clearly she was shaken. Smiling, Alice clapped her hands excitedly. She could not wait to tell her husband that his whore was using him to spy for his archenemies. She could not wait!
“Ceidre, I must go.”
Ceidre, naked and snuggling against Rolfe’s side, jerked upright. They were in the stable, and it was still hours before dawn. “What? So soon? Why?”
He smiled and touched her quivering breasts. “In truth, I am not ready to leave you,” he said, lifting her voluptuousness. “But I must.” He released her and stood. “I go to York at dawn.”
“To York?” She echoed. “At dawn!”
He began to dress.
Ceidre was aware of many turbulent emotions, the first being an overwhelming disappointment. “For how long? When will you be back?”
He paused, clad in hose and tunic, then knelt before her, cupping her face. “You will miss me?”
She trembled. “’Tis too soon,” she said bitterly. “Will—will Guy return before you do?”
“Mayhap,” he said evenly. His thumb caught a tear. “Do not cry, sweeting. When I return we will have many more moments like this night.”
Was she crying? Was she that upset that he was leaving her? She had been upset ever since the confrontation with Alice that afternoon. And what about the messenger? Why was he going to York? Damn Ed! Although maybe it was better that Rolfe would go now, for a while, because of what she had so stupidly told Alice. Yet she clutched his hands. “Take me with you,” she breathed, her face close to his.
“I cannot.” He started to rise, but she would not release
him, and he pulled her up with him.
He was mostly dressed, she was stark naked. One candle, carefully placed so as not to cause a fire, illuminated them, casting most of its light upon her naked form. Ceidre was aware of it. She was aware that he was affected, eyeing her breasts, her belly, the coarse auburn hair between her legs, her curved thighs. Deliberately she leaned slightly forward, so her nipples brushed his chest, tightening. “Take me with you,” she begged. “We have had so little time together.”
“Ceidre …”
The agitated rise and fall of her chest was causing her nipples to stroke his skin repeatedly. He was not oblivious; Ceidre was very much aware of the smoldering of his gaze. She shifted slightly, so one thigh touched the bone of his hip, so her groin pressed against his other leg, riding it. She felt him hard and aroused against her navel. “Guy will return while you are gone,” she said breathlessly. “And I have not told you, but he is no longer afraid of me, he said so before I came to you the first time. He still thinks I am a witch.” She was rushing on, pleading without shame. “He said so, but a good one, one who will not harm, only heal. Now my threats to curse him if he touches me are idle, useless. Now it is only a matter of time until he decides to make me his wife truly. I saw how he has looked at me,” she lied desperately. “He will return and he will bed me, rape me!” She sobbed. “Please take me with you! We have had so little time together!”
He cursed, gripping her arms so tightly she winced. “You have learned your power over me too well, little one,” he said. “I cannot resist your lush body when you press and tremble against me, as you know damn well. I cannot resist your tears, and mostly, I cannot bear the thought of you with another—you know this too!” He cursed again. With his hard leg, he pushed her against the wall, forcing her thigh to ride up to his waist.
“Will you take me with you?” Ceidre cried.
“Yes,” he growled, pulling down his hose and plunging into her so smoothly she was against the wall, thighs locked around his waist, clinging, before she even knew it. “Yes.” He groaned. “God’s blood, yes.”