He was not how she remembered. The dark oozing scabs of the burns, the weeping sores and blisters had gone. In the candlelight she saw faint silvery scars, barely visible across the pale skin. His nipples and the silky hair sparse over his breast were dark, and the muscles of his body were smooth and sinuous. Emeline sat curled, trying not to show more of herself than she could conceal, but gazed at him, and said, “I think you are – beautiful – too, my lord.”
He snorted, moving close to her again. “Not beautiful, as I well know, my sweet. But deft, and kind, I promise. And I won’t hurt you.” He embraced her quickly, one hand to the back of her hair, cradling her head against his shoulder. His other hand wandered to the dimples at the rise of her buttocks, holding her tightly to him. He felt her trembling and looked quickly down into her eyes. “Not frightened, I hope? You told me once you were never frightened. Can you trust me at last?”
She said, still whispering, “I am – nervous. Just a little. You do – and touch where I have never – and not knowing how – or what to – expect.”
“Then let me show you,” he murmured, and keeping her firm to his chest, he began again to caress her breasts, pulling gently and pressing around the nipple as he talked, his voice like the last hum of the waning fire in the hearth. He said, “So as I touch you here, my love, and here, you feel me where I touch. But as I touch your breasts, you also feel me lower down, in those places where your body ignites, and where arousal touches more surely than I can.” His fingers slipped, smoothing around her navel and down across her belly. “So you also feel me here,” voice softening, “and here, like a hunger, and a need.” He smiled into her eyes, and shyly she nodded. Then he pressed hard into the soft flesh at the base of her stomach. “Here, a throbbing deep inside, and then –” and his fingers pushed down between her thighs and touched very gently, so that she shivered as he said, “and you feel me here, both at the entrance and inside, don’t you my sweet? Sensations new to you, sudden awakenings and depths never realised. For it’s here I enter you, once you’re prepared, and bring us both the pleasure of loving.”
She swallowed hard, her voice tiny, “Enter – me?”
He tightened his embrace, then gently pushed one finger higher, just inserted within her, and whispered, “Inside here, my love, where you’ll open for me.” She drew in her breath and pulled away from him but he smiled and kissed her eyelids shut, saying, “But not until you’re ready, and I have many ways of making you ready.” Then he took one of her hands in his own, moving it down to his groin, and easing her fingers inside the stiffened codpiece and then within the folds of his braies. “This is me,” he said softly, “and we are made to fit together.”
She shook her head, puzzled, for this was not as she remembered him when he had lain injured and sick. She tried to find the words to ask, but at once his fingers, releasing hers, roamed again and he murmured, “Breathe, my sweet, and let me play. This is how I make you ready, and then nothing will hurt, and you will learn why this is called loving, as well as its other names.”
She felt her head spin and her breath quicken, and she said, panting, “Should I do something too, then?”
“No, my sweetling, except open your legs for me. Close your eyes, think of nothing but feeling and wanting, and let me take you swimming deep. One day, when you’re long accustomed to what I do and to what I want, then I’ll show you other roads and other places, and guide you to do as I do. But for now this is not meant as an education. It’s pure pleasure, so don’t hide from me and forget first time blushes. I’ll take you as far as you let me.”
“I couldn’t stop you. I don’t want to stop you.” She sighed, releasing her embarrassment, and when he moved down against her, prising open her legs, she did not resist. Then he laid his cheek on the cushion of her stomach, and with one hand to the curls at her groin, pushed first one, then another finger deep inside her.
She groaned and he looked up at once, saying, “You are very tight, little one. Does that hurt?” But she sighed, mumbling words he could barely understand, and he felt her inner muscles squeeze tight around him, and smiled. Then he moved his thumb, pressing at the entrance just above, moving softly and building friction. She lurched, jerking against him, and wrapped both her arms tight around his neck.
When Nicholas finally released her, sitting back to remove his hose, she blinked up, eyes wide. “It’s all gone – cold,” she whispered.
“Cold? Not here,” he grinned, one hand again between her legs. “You are all aflame, my love, hot as pepper corms and moist as wine. And here,” and he traced the tiny trickled of sweat, one finger following the trail from between her breasts down to her navel. “There is a snail’s sheen of silver and in the candlelight, your skin is golden. So silver, gold, fire and wine – my feast and my delight.”
“Kind words,” she whispered shaking her head, “Is that the way of seduction? But now I feel more – naked – more exposed – more –”
“Vulnerable? And so you are, my own, but now I am vulnerable too, which is how lovers must be at first.” And he unhooked his codpiece and pulled off his hose and braies, and came quickly back beside her, holding her tight.
She again snuggled into the protection of his embrace, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Is this how all men are? It seems so – strange.”
He laughed. “No, only me in all the world and all other men are different, and inferior.” He took her hand, placing it over himself. “But not at all. Of course we are all alike, and not so strange, my sweet. Men and women are made to fit together, and bring pleasure each to the other. Trust me now.”
She did. “I will.” And began to discover that truth was so very much better than all the months of confusion and the endless dreams, the yearning, and the impatient waiting to learn what romance was really all about.
Emeline woke in the night, and found herself again in his arms. She was still naked, as he was, and she felt the unaccustomed strength of his body clasped to her back, his knees tucked behind hers and his arms tight to her belly and breasts. She sighed, and remembered what he had done to her before they slept, and smiled to herself as she sank again into sleep.
She woke the second time as her husband kissed her ear, and said, “Have I exhausted you so completely, little one? It’s long past dawn.”
“Morning already?”
“The usual time for dawn,” he nodded. “There’s light beer and manchet with cheese here on a tray. Eat and claim back your strength. We leave for Nottingham at first light tomorrow, so this will be a busy day.” He wore a bedrobe, fur lined to his feet, but when he sat on the edge of the bed beside her, it fell open and he was naked. Emma had already cuddled deep beneath the eiderdown. Nicholas grinned, put the beer cup into her hand, and swept the covers from her body to the floor. “I forbid timidity. I forbid maidenly blushes. You’ve taken me as husband, and I’ve taken you as wife. The time for hiding is over. Or did you suffer at my hands last night?” He paused, his voice softening, and asked, “Did I hurt you after all?”
“No.” She was blushing, in spite of instructions. “But – this is another day – and everything feels different.”
He crossed to the window, taking down the wooden shutters, but turned and looked at her. “So perhaps I should repeat what I did then, so you no longer feel different, but once again the same? After all, I’ve been ill for a long time and have a great deal to catch up with.” She wriggled, reached over and pulled back the eiderdown, looking meekly into her well covered lap. He grinned. “Don’t worry, little one,” he said, coming back to sit beside her. “You’re sore, as I know you must be. And I can’t spend all my days seducing you, no matter how I’d like to.” He took her cup, put it down beside the bed and wrapped both arms around her. “You’ll get used to me in time. You were beautiful last night. Sweet memories, I hope?”
“Oh, so very sweet.” She clung to him, burying her head against his chest, hiding her face and trying to choose her words. “But – i
f that is how it’s done – as I suppose it must be – how will I know if I carry your child?”
He smiled at the top of her head. “No doubt I’ll know before you do, my love,” he said, “and will tell you.”
She mumbled, “Now you’ve said it again. Last night you called me that – over and over – my love. But you don’t love me. You don’t even know me.”
“I love you while I’m making love to you,” he murmured to her ear, caressing her tangled curls. There was a short pause, a restful silence as his hands then wandered a little below the bedclothes and found her breasts, creeping lower to her legs. “And I will learn to love you more,” he said, “as I hope gradually you learn to love me.”
She hesitated, then said simply, “I do already.”
“That, my dear, is honest lust speaking,” he grinned at her, “and the flush of a first climax. It will wear off very quickly the next time I annoy you.”
“Will you annoy me?” Her heart beat had quickened.
His fingers rubbed gently between her legs and he pulled the covers from her once again, nuzzling her breasts and kissing her. “Without doubt,” he said, “perhaps very soon. Before last night you thought you hated me. Now perhaps you think differently. A child’s romantic notions – no more. Did you dream endlessly of romance with Peter? And now you find it suddenly with me? Yet once this first discovery of lust wears off, then perhaps annoyance will return. But for me, if we speak of love making then it’s love making I want, with you as wet and sticky as I left you last night. So do I take you again, as I want to? Or think with my head instead of my prick, and leave you in peace to get dressed?”
“Oh, please don’t stop. And besides,” she murmured, “my dresser won’t know where to find me,”
“Would she be so surprised to find you in your husband’s bedchamber?”
Emeline admitted, “And first I should go – before anything else – to the garderobe.”
He did not remove his hand, and would not let her hide her face. “Lean back, and let me explore you in daylight. I’ll be gentle, I promise. But where a man would have trouble swiving when his bladder’s full, with a woman it’s different. The pleasure increases. Look, when I press up here, you feel it tighter and deeper.” Emeline groaned a little, lay back and closed her eyes. Then she sat up with a squeak. He had stopped abruptly.
She tried to grab his wrist. “Don’t you – won’t you?”
“Modesty already abandoned, my sweet?” He stood, grinning and looking down at her.
She screwed up her nose. “You made me feel – and now you’re just teasing me.”
“Only two days more, and we’ll have the peace and comfort to learn a good deal more about each other.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Then you can decide whether you hate me or want me. Now eat your breakfast while I get a boy to find your maid. There’s a lot to organise today, both for our travels and for the months of repairs to be undertaken by those left behind.” He was moving away, but turned back. “I intend riding out a mile or so to see how the roads are for tomorrow, but so far it’s a mild spring and promises a pleasant journey. The wild lilac’s in bloom already in the hedgerows. Soon we’ll see the first swallows on the wing.”
Emma had tugged the eiderdown back up to her chin. “Oh, do you love the countryside too?” she said, peeping over the thick feather quilt. “I always looked for the first swallows over the Cotswolds back home.”
He gazed at the now well covered bundle beneath his bedclothes. “Sadly swallows seem to be the only thing on my horizon at present. Modesty is evidently a hard habit to break after all, my dear. Now, how, I wonder, do I teach you to be a wanton, and encourage you to climb bare arsed into my lap?”
She giggled. “At the dinner table?”
“I’d have no objection.”
The door clicked shut behind him. Emmeline waited, holding her breath. Then she kicked off the blankets, swung her legs from the bed, flung both arms out to the intruding daylight, and began to dance with the shadows. The shy sun’s warmth spangled her body as she whirled. She was interrupted by the door opening again. “My lady?”
Petronella had never before seen her mistress wheeling stark naked and entirely abandoned, especially considering this was, admittedly her husband’s, but still a gentleman’s bedchamber. Emeline flopped backwards onto the bed. “It is,” she sighed to the ceiling beams, “a beautiful day after all, Nellie. Such a beautiful life. And a truly beautiful world.”
“I’m sure it is, my lady.” Petronella eyed her mistress with misgiving. “Tis surely good to see you recovered from the sullens of recent, madam. I was worried, as was Mistress Martha.” The maid did not admit that she still was.
“That,” beamed Emeline, “was before I understood what real love was all about. Now everything has changed.”
Just as predawn paled the stars on the following morning, Nicholas helped his wife mount her palfrey, swung his leg over his own bay’s back, and waved the outriders on ahead. The litter with the lady’s nurse and personal maid, the trundling cart of baggage and the four armed guards rattled slowly some way behind, for Nicholas hoped to make Nottingham by that evening and had no desire to ride at the same speed as the pack horses. The square young man Emeline already recognised as the squire David Witton, rode at the retinue’s head, but sometimes Nicholas called to him, and they travelled some miles alongside, speaking quietly together.
Although left almost entirely in silence, Emeline watched her husband’s strong boned profile, square shoulders and long legs tucked to his horse’s flanks in complacent anticipation. Before the light had fully risen behind the trees, they were on the road leading east, and the dawn’s increasing pastel luminescence was in their eyes. Nicholas remembered occasionally to ask his wife how she felt, and whether, being a country girl, she was content to pass long hours in the saddle. But, more accustomed to solitary pursuits and lonely journeys, he was generally a quiet companion, leaving Emeline to relive her memories. The birds were tiny black shadows in the lightening sky and the wind had sunk to breezes by the time Nicholas signalled to halt. The wayside inn was expecting them, arrangements having been made by the outriders, and stopping for bread, cheese and light ale allowed Emeline to stretch her legs and back.
They were back in the saddle having ridden a few miles more with the sun now climbing higher when, although without any threat of rain or creeping cloud cover, the light dimmed as though it might suddenly snuff out. Emeline stared upwards, pulled on the reins and slowed her pace. Nicholas called, “The next roadside tavern isn’t far away. We may have to stop again.”
She pointed. Nicholas came beside her, one hand to her horse’s bridle as it backed, abruptly skittish. Where the sun’s light had been vividly visible, now, in a moment’s blink, it had begun to turn dark, edged aside by a steady return to night. The sun’s brilliant circle was swallowed as if by a great black throat and hungry invading teeth. Rich blackness sank across the road and over the banked green roadside, the trees ahead and the fields all around. A star, just above the horizon’s forested tips, flickered awake. For an instant, the sun’s circle glowed as a huge empty ring with one tiny and terrifying point of dazzle. Then was gone into startling pitch.
It was from the embracing shadows that her husband’s hand came, taking hers in comfort, while his voice murmured, “Just an eclipse, my sweet. Don’t look directly, but it’s nothing to be frightened of. It is, I think, the moon that blankets the sun. But they say the moon always loses and light always returns.”
“The moon is – so dangerous?” Emma blinked hard, rubbing her eyes. “I never knew. I thought it beautiful – in its rightful place.”
“I’m no astrologer, my dear. I know only that with an eclipse the sun must dominate in the end, and those who study such things can predict them.”
And she said, “But is it a portent, then? My father’s priest says the Lord speaks to us by means of heavenly signs.”
“I doubt the Lord would take suc
h pains to speak to me, nor ever has,” said Nicholas. “I’ve had no helpful warnings in my life before.”
“The warnings aren’t always helpful. Perhaps someone has died.” Emeline smoothed her palfrey’s mane, soothing it.
“There is always someone, somewhere, dying,” said Nicholas.
Chapter Eleven
The lights of the great house awaited, dozens of flaming candles and the fires roaring across the hearths. A white linen cloth lay over the smaller table in the narrow vaulted hall, the platters set, spoons and cups of polished pewter ready for a late supper.
Sysabel stood prim to greet her guests, Adrian behind her. A finger’s breadth taller, stocky and plain dressed, he wore no fur trimmings to his sleeves and no fur collar in spite of the winter weather, and although his thighs were solid muscle, they were snug not in knitted silk but in close ribbed wool. He was frowning. Behind him Aunt Elizabeth tottered to her feet, but having risen, decided the effort outweighed the necessity and sank once more to the cushioned settle beside the window’s alcove.
“My dear Emeline.” Sysabel reached for her hand. “We had expected you some hours ago, and were worried.” Then frowning at Nicholas, “Or were you simply not bothered to get yourself from your bed until midday, Nicholas?”
The Flame Eater Page 10