by Speer, Flora
“Thomas.” It was barely a whisper, little more than a sigh. “How could you do that to me, make me turn into someone different? It wasn’t Selene, you know. Selene would never do anything so disgusting. Selene is pure, and clean in spirit. Not at all like Aloise. Selene will never have a lover.”
She saw then that there had been blood. It was smeared on her thighs and spattered upon the linen sheet beneath them. Blood. Selene’s stomach heaved. She moved away from that part of the bed, removing herself from the evidence of her lost virginity.
Sensing the motion, the man beside her opened brilliant blue eyes. A large, strong hand reached across the space Selene had put between them and slid down along her arm, covering her slim fingers and bringing her hand to his lips. She sat watching him coldly, seeing his smile falter and a shadow come into his eyes.
“Is anything amiss, Selene? You must be cold, all uncovered like that. Lie here beside me, and I’ll warm you. We will love again. Come closer, my sweet.”
Again? Selene glared at him, her chin tilting upward defiantly.
“Certainly not,” she said. “I have done my duty for this night.”
“Are you just going to sit there until dawn?”
“Perhaps.”
“What is wrong? My love, you had pleasure, too, you know you did.”
“I had to do it. I could not prevent it. I was only doing my duty.”
“And will you do your duty to me again whenever I wish it?” he asked lightly, to cover his growing bewilderment.
“No!” Selene cried. Then, “Yes. I must. I have no choice.”
“I think,” Thomas said, only half-teasing, “that if you had a choice, you would still say no, and pretend to be unwilling, but then you would come into my arms with as much delight as the first time.”
Selene said nothing. She seemed to be staring hard at the blue curtains that enclosed the foot of their bed, but she did not see them. She tried to blot out her husband’s soft voice, and could not.
“My sweet, in time we will come to love each other as Uncle Guy and Meredith do. You’ll see.”
No, I will not, Selene thought as his arms encircled her tenderly and pulled her down next to him. I must not, I cannot, I dare not. I will not love you, Thomas.
But he began kissing her again, and soon she found the other Selene, who lived deep inside her, who could not resist him, taking over her senses once more. This time, with much of the strangeness of it gone, knowing exactly what he would do and how it would feel, thinking about it as he began to stroke and caress her, Selene felt the heat rising rapidly through her body. She reached for him, unable to stop herself or control the longing that filled her. She touched him, knowing it was shameful to do so, and watched him rise into life under her searching fingers. It was lust, no more, and lust was a sin. She knew it. But she was filled with a clamoring desire that spiraled into sweet bliss when he took her. The explosion, soft and quiet this time but earth-stopping, heart-searing nonetheless, made her bite her lips to keep from crying out, and then, when she could no longer hold back her ecstatic moans, made her curse the other Selene, the demon inside her, who made her do such revolting, degrading things, and enjoy them.
Arianna had not slept. She had gone to bed late after all the wedding feasting. Then she lay, open eyed through what remained of the night, listening to Sir Valaire’s snores and the quieter breathing of his wife and two young sons, and trying not to think about what was happening two chambers down the corridor, where Thomas and Selene were. She failed miserably. She could think of nothing else. Toward dawn she rose and crept out of the bedchamber carrying her clothes. She fled barefoot and shivering to the lavatorium, where she quickly washed and dressed.
She was surprised that there was no one about. The king and most of his courtiers were planning to leave St. Albans today, so there ought to have been more activity. She found the reason for the unnatural stillness when she opened the guest-house door and stepped outside. There had been a heavy snowfall during the night.
Arianna stood on the doorstep a moment. Breathing in the clean, icy air, so cold it made her lungs hurt, she let that cleanness dissolve all the unhappy thoughts the night had brought to her. It was still dark. Only the faintest grey light in the east pierced the heavy snow clouds to indicate the sun would soon rise. Torches had been lit on either side of the door, and by their light Arianna saw a stocky figure trudging toward her.
“Ye can get to the church easily enough now, my lady. I’ve shoveled ye a path,” said the porter who usually guarded the door. He stopped before Arianna, shovel over his shoulder, his round face showing flushed and shiny with sweat in the torchlight. “There’s another lady went before ye to the church. In a great hurry she was, anxious to say her prayers, and much she has to be thankful for, I’d say.”
Arianna hurried through the cold to the church door. It was not much warmer inside. The monks were there, kneeling in their stalls, but few lay people attended this early Mass. Arianna tiptoed forward. She nearly stumbled in surprise when she saw Selene kneeling on the stone floor. So that was who the porter had meant. Arianna knelt beside her, but Selene did not acknowledge her presence. When the service was over they walked silently out of the church together.
It was lighter now, but the wind had risen with the sun. It blew swirls of snow off the tops of high drifts and into the church porch. The path the porter had shoveled earlier was nearly drifted over.
Arianna shivered. Selene did not seem to notice the cold. Her face was white and drawn, her lips pressed tightly together. Arianna took her arm.
“I was surprised to see you here,” she said.
“Out of bed, do you mean?” Selene’s voice was hard as ice. “Thomas did what had to be done, and now he’s sleeping. I trust he will leave me alone for a while. Until then, I am free to pray for forgiveness of my many sins.”
“Oh, Selene.” Arianna did not know what to say. She could not believe Thomas had mistreated his wife in any way on their wedding night, yet Selene was obviously suffering. Arianna wanted to put her arms around her dearest friend and comfort her. But something told her Selene would not welcome the gesture.
“I never wanted to marry,” Selene went on, half to herself and still in that cold little voice. “I warned my parents, but they would not listen to me. Now they have unleashed a demon. I changed into someone else. Not Selene. And there was blood.” She began to moan softly, her eyes unfocused.
“Selene, stop this. Stop at once.” Arianna shook Selene’s arm, wondering if her friend had gone mad. But Selene regained her composure almost immediately.
“Let us go inside and break our fast,” she said calmly.
Arianna, too startled by this sudden change to make any reply, followed Selene back to the guesthouse. There, bread and cheese and hot ale had been provided in the large reception room. Guy came in just as they were finishing their morning meal. Arianna saw his eyebrows go up at the sight of Selene. He came over to them, carrying a tankard of ale in one hand and a wedge of brown bread in the other, and dropped onto the bench beside Selene.
“Where’s Thomas?” he asked between bites of the bread.
“I do not know,” Selene replied coldly, not looking at him.
“We two went to early Mass,” Arianna explained more warmly, feeling that Selene was being unnecessarily rude to a man she ought not to offend. “Here comes Thomas now.”
“Selene, my love,” Thomas stood behind her, putting one hand on her shoulder in a possessive gesture. “You should have wakened me.”
“I wanted to be alone,” Selene replied, trying to shake off his hand. Thomas let go of her shoulder, caught her chin to tilt her face up, and planted a hearty kiss on her mouth.
“I thought you might have run away from me,” he joked.
“I would not get very far,” Selene retorted, leaving Arianna wondering if she actually had considered flight. “There is too much snow.”
“She’s right,” Guy added, shooting a shre
wdly appraising glance at Selene. “The roads are drifted too badly for travel. We all must postpone our leaving for another day at least.”
He looked most unhappy about it. Arianna knew he was eager to be on his way to Afoncaer. She also suspected the good brothers of St. Albans, honored though they were by the king’s visit, would be relieved to have their guests leave at last. No one would be pleased by the delay. With, it seemed, just one exception.
“I won’t mind a bit. We will have more time together.” Thomas beamed at Selene. She ignored him.
“I ought to go and tell Meredith about the change in plans.” Guy finished his ale and rose. “I’ve already told Kenelm and our men-at-arms, so you needn’t bother about that, Thomas. Enjoy the day, my boy.”
Guy left them, and Thomas, after a moment, held out his hand to Selene.
“Come, my love.”
“Come where?” Selene’s voice was still ice-cold and filled with distaste.
“To our chamber. Come.” The warm look in Thomas’s eyes left no doubt about his meaning. Unable to bear the sight of that look, or the haughty rejection on Selene’s face, Arianna stared hard into her empty ale mug.
Her chin high, Selene sat very still for a while longer, letting Thomas stand and wait for her. Arianna stole a glance at her and saw two spots of color flaming in Selene’s cheeks. At last she stood up with an oddly languid grace. There was a strange, wild look in her green eyes. Without a word to Arianna she followed Thomas from the room. And Arianna, who would gladly have changed places with Selene, could only gaze after them in appalled wonder at her friend’s reluctance to bed with the husband who so obviously adored her.
Chapter 5
In that unusually severe winter of cold and snow, storms were all too frequent. The whirling blizzard which had begun the day after Thomas and Selene’s wedding kept the group from Afoncaer confined at St. Albans for three extra days, a circumstance which finally made them all unhappy, each for his or her own reasons.
Thomas had at first been pleased to have more time in private with Selene before the journey began, but by the fourth day he, too, was eager to be on his way. Like Guy, he was always concerned about Afoncaer. They were both eager to return to the restive Welsh border, where trouble might erupt at any time. They and the armed men who had accompanied them to St. Albans might be badly needed. Meredith longed to see her home and her nine-year-old daughter once more. All three worried about Reynaud and the difficulties of transporting a badly injured man from Wenlock Priory to Afoncaer in such weather.
Arianna chafed at the enforced inactivity of St. Albans. She’d had more than enough of feasts and royal entertainments, and of watching Thomas make all too plain his devotion to Selene. Arianna wanted to be gone from that place and ease her aching heart in the excitement of travel. Her deepest desire during those snowy days was to be at Afoncaer and to immerse herself in the new life and the opportunity Meredith had offered to her. While waiting for the storm to end she spent as much time as possible with Meredith. When she could not do that she went to the abbey church and knelt on the cold stone floor, praying that the unwanted, overwhelming, and totally hopeless love she felt for Thomas might before long be converted into something less painful. But at night, lying on the trundle bed in the room she still shared with Lady Aloise and Sir Valaire and their sons, she knew her love for Thomas was in her heart forever, and she must learn to endure the pain it caused.
As for Selene, she had her own variety of unhappiness to deal with as Thomas continued to make passionate love to her each night, and to drag her with him, all unwilling, into those realms of breathless, pulsating desire where she did not want to go. Now, on the fifth morning after her marriage, Selene was relieved to learn that immediately after Mass the company bound for Afoncaer would set out upon the old Roman road, now called Watling Street, that led north and west from St. Albans. They could not be gone soon enough for her. She was heartily sick of bridal jokes and sly looks from the courtiers who were all also snowbound. They reminded her of the thing that happened at night when she was alone with Thomas, the thing she hated and tried to prevent, yet gave into repeatedly, unable to stop her body’s response to him.
She had tried to appear indifferent to his love and to the amused comments of the sophisticated nobles and their ladies, maintaining her air of cold aloofness toward everyone about her. She succeeded best with Thomas, who, she knew, was hurt and bewildered by the contrast between their wildly passionate nights together and the way she treated him in public.
“Could you not be a little kinder?” Arianna asked, following Selene into her bedchamber. “You insulted the poor man just now, and for no cause at all.”
Selene shrugged and did not reply.
“Really,” Arianna went on, “you are the most exasperating creature. Anyone else in your position would be happy, yet you do nothing but sulk all the time. You will drive Thomas away from you when he wants to honor and love you. Have some thought for him.”
“I am not sulking, and my position is more miserable than you can imagine,” Selene replied sharply. “I loathe marriage. And why should you be concerned for Thomas? He’s nothing to you. Where are you going? I need you to help with packing the rest of these clothes. The serving women are all with Meredith. Arianna?” But Arianna had fled the room. Selene tossed the offending gowns upon the bed in frustration.
She wanted to be on the road to Afoncaer, and every delay irritated her. Lodging along the way, in abbey guesthouses or the occasional inn, would be crowded, the men and women in their group often separated. There would very likely be no opportunity at all for lovemaking until they arrived at Afoncaer. With more bad weather possible at any time, and the detour to Much Wenlock Priory to collect the mysterious architect Reynaud adding still more delay to the trip, Selene hoped for at least ten days of freedom from the romantic encounters that were a torment to her.
She heard the bedchamber door open and close.
“Arianna. So you have come back to help me after all. You should be ashamed of scolding me.” She whirled angrily to face, not her friend, but a grim-visaged Thomas.
“So Arianna has been scolding you, has she? I’ll add my voice to hers. I am most annoyed with you, my lady.” Thomas stood, hands on hips, frowning at her in a manner very unlike his usual tender attitude.
“You have no reason to rebuke me, my lord,” Selene said coldly.
“Have I not? How can you claim that when, less than an hour ago, instead of saying a proper farewell to your father, you insulted me before both him and Uncle Guy?”
“Will you beat me for it? My mother said you would if I did not always obey you.”
“Selene, I would never beat you.” Thomas sighed, running both hands through his hair and leaving it in complete disarray. “I only want to understand why you act as you do. At night, when we are alone together, you are the most passionate woman I have ever known, more than I ever hoped or dreamed a wife could be. I am mad with love for you. But before others you treat me as though you hate me, and that I will not allow, nor would any man with pride.”
Selene stood quietly, her hands folded before her. She lowered her head, knowing that her silken veil would fall forward to obscure her face, as her maiden’s loose hair had used to do when she wanted to hide her expression. If Thomas could not see her face, if he was unable to look into her eyes, he might not guess how frightened she was. If he knew the depths of blackness in her soul, he would cast her out. She told herself she did not care about Thomas, not really. But something – perhaps the secret, lustful Selene who lived inside her and only revealed herself in bed at night – made her want to stay with Thomas. Or perhaps it was just the recollection of what she had sworn to do for Thomas’s mother that made her so meek when she spoke to him again.
“I am sorry if I have displeased you, my lord,” she said. “I will try to be a better wife to you.”
“Selene.” He took her hands. “Tell me what is troubling you so sorely. I know some
thing is. Let me help you.”
She looked at her hands, nearly lost between his two larger, square ones, her wrists wrapped by his tapering fingers, the same fingers that caressed her unwilling flesh each night and made her desire him until she could not stop no matter how hard she tried. Just the touch of those hands was all that was needed to make the blood pound in her ears. She wanted him to pick her up in his strong arms and toss her onto the bed and take her. Right now. Without even undressing. She was wicked, lost in vile sin. She had to think of something else, something equally frightening, to take her thoughts away from his hard, strong body and the surging manhood that could fill her with unspeakably delicious, delirious passion.
“Selene?” He was looking at her strangely, and she wondered if he guessed at her thoughts. She hoped not. And then she thought of something that would distract him from the question she did not want to answer. She had planned to wait a while, but suddenly this seemed exactly the right time.
“Do you never write to your mother, my lord?”
“My mother?” Thomas dropped her hands and stared at her in astonishment. “Why do you mention her? She is forbidden to have any contact with me at all. I will not write to her and give her an opportunity to break her oath to Uncle Guy.”
“What oath?” Selene was unsure what to say to this. Isabel had never told her of any stricture about contacting Thomas.
“It was part of the promise she made when she went into exile,” Thomas said, “the promise that let her, and Walter fitz Alan, keep their heads upon their shoulders. I ask you again, Selene, why do you mention my mother?”
“She misses you. Each day of her life she longs to see you again. Walter fitz Alan is dead, and Lady Isabel is lonely.”