Desiree

by Roberta Gellis

  His mouth grew harder, his tongue probed, touching her lips, her tongue, withdrawing so that her tongue followed his. She could feel her breasts pressed against his chest and her nipples were so hard and swollen that they ached. Although her gown and shift kept her from feeling his flesh against hers, she was as aware of it as if she were naked. Her hands stroked his bare back, and his worn braies were little barrier to the protrusion digging into her belly.

  That was not where she wanted it. Not only her breasts ached. There was a hollow, empty feeling between her legs, a warm swollen moistness that was ready to enfold the straining shaft. Desiree pressed upward on tiptoe, seeking to move the pressure from her belly to fill that emptiness. The effort of standing on her toes could not long be sustained, and Desiree slid down against Alex’s body. That did not help. Half sobbing she rose on her toes again, and again slid down.

  Alex groaned. Half mad with need, with her tongue stroking his, mimicking the act of lovemaking, Alex slid his hands down Desiree’s body and cupped her buttocks. Crushing her against him, he lifted her up, up until her belly curved away from his body and his shaft slipped into the hollow made by the parting of her legs. It was an utterly false, momentary comfort. Clothing blocked the passage.

  But Desiree did not know that. She did not know anything except what she desired was moving in the right direction. Without volition, quite unaware of what she was doing, Desiree tried to spread her legs and catch what she wanted between them. The movement, blocked by her skirt and shift, could not go far, but it went far enough to bend Desiree’s knees. Her full weight rested unexpectedly on Alex’s hands.

  Alex was more than strong enough to support Desiree, but his grip on her buttocks was not designed for that purpose. Her body slipped through his fingers and slid down, her bent knees lowering her still more. Their mouths parted. Desiree caught at his shoulders to support herself, but the motion pressed the heels of her hands against him and pushed them slightly apart.

  The door clicked. Neither heard. Desiree’s head was still lifted toward Alex, his bent toward her.

  “Alex, if… Oh!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex and Desiree sprang apart when Father Harold spoke. Alex was instantly crimson, but Desiree showed no sign of guilt, only of anxiety. Indeed, the pang of terror—not for being discovered, but for the well-doing of her husband—precluded guilt.

  “Is Frewyn all right?” she cried.

  Father Harold blinked. “Yes,” he said, somewhat bemused by Desiree’s indifference to her compromising situation. “In fact, I came to tell Alex that Frewyn will see him now if he still needs to speak to him.”

  “Yes,” Alex got out, sounding as if he were strangling.

  He pulled on the gambeson and rushed out, leaving Desiree and Father Harold staring after him.

  “Oh,” Desiree said, “perhaps you should stop him. He will tell Frewyn what we did.”

  But the priest did not hurry after Alex. He did not think that Frewyn would be upset over Alex’s confession. Father Harold at present was more concerned with the state of Alex’s and Desiree’s souls. However much Desiree and Frewyn felt like father and daughter in their hearts, both had taken vows of marriage and Desiree could not violate hers without mortal sin.

  “Will he?” Father Harold asked. “Only because I caught you this time?”

  “This time!” Desiree echoed. “There has never been another time!” Now her cheeks bloomed red. “Oh, poor Alex. He has always been so careful, not even taking my hand, and of course, that is right. I never offered my hand. This— What happened was an accident. We did not…it was not by intention.”

  “You were not here in Alex’s chamber alone with him by intention?”

  “Not by intention to…to be embraced.”

  “Then why did you come here?”

  “To ask whether Alex had a letter from Sir Simon and whether it contained bad news. I thought he must have had a letter because Lady Alinor’s letter to me did not mention Nicolaus’s treachery and because Alex kept trying to speak to Frewyn.”

  “And you could not speak about Sir Simon’s letter at arm’s length?” the priest asked severely.

  Desiree’s blush had diminished. Now she felt her cheeks hot again. “We never did speak about Sir Simon’s letter,” she admitted. “Alex asked if Frewyn was worse, and I told him about the medicine Lady Alinor sent.” Tears rose in her eyes. “And I began to think about losing Frewyn, and I was so sad! Oh, Father, I do not know how it came about but I was suddenly in his arms and—and we kissed.”

  “And it was the first time? Do you swear it?”

  “I gave him the kiss of peace when I accepted him as castellan,” she said doubtfully. “But aside from that, yes, this is the first time Alex and I…”

  Her hands were trembling and she clasped them hard. In a flash, she felt again the heat of Alex’s mouth against hers, the strength of his arms around her, the feel of his bare skin under her hands, the tingling in her breasts, the warmth between her thighs.

  “And it will be the last time.” Father Harold’s voice was sharp and hard.

  Desiree’s gaze met his and she could feel the flush of guilt for her unbridled desire in her whole body. “Yes, Father,” she said, bowing her head.

  However, Father Harold did not wish Desiree to think Alex was permanently forbidden. He softened his tone and said, “You may touch no man, you should try not to think of any man, while…until…until you are free.”

  “I swear,” Desiree whispered, raising her head, “that I do not desire to have Alex at the cost of Frewyn’s life.”

  Father Harold patted her shoulder. “I know that, daughter. I know you love Frewyn and would never wish him harm. But I am warning you that it is a mortal sin to…to take comfort or pleasure in any man other than your husband. You are sworn to him and must keep that vow.”

  “Yes, Father,” Desiree said earnestly. “I will be more careful. It was only that I was so overset by using Lady Alinor’s medicine, and then I found my women’s tasks were all ill done, and then one of them fell into the fire and was burned. I know I should have sent a servant to call Alex out to the hall, but I was worried about some danger to Exceat, and I did not stop to think. I will be more careful,” she repeated.

  “Very good, daughter. And there is no need to tell Frewyn.” The priest sighed. Frewyn would only encourage her into more sin. “I will speak to Alex and make sure he understands that he must not put temptation in your way.”

  “Oh, no, Alex would never…” Desiree began, and suddenly realized if Father Harold told Alex not to place temptation in her way, Alex being Alex, would likely decide to remove himself from Exceat altogether. “Oh,” she cried, catching at Father Harold’s sleeve as he began to turn away. “Oh, Father, I fear that Alex will not only tell Frewyn what happened but also ask his permission to leave Exceat.”

  “God forbid!” the priest exclaimed, and rushed out. At least that disaster was prevented. In the past days Frewyn had been so weak and despairing that Elias had not troubled him with washing and dressing. Now that his master’s strength seemed to be returning and he had roused himself enough to send Father Harold to get Alex, Elias ordered and helped Pollock to shave Frewyn and dress him afresh. Thus, Alex was still waiting outside Frewyn’s door when the priest approached. He called out and gestured Alex to him.

  Alex turned and without volition his eyes passed Father Harold and fixed on his own door, out of which Desiree was coming.

  “Alex!” Father Harold said.

  Alex brought his gaze to the priest’s face. “I have sinned, Father.”

  “Yes, you certainly have,” the priest said sharply. “And I wish to make sure that you do not add to that sin.” And then he put out a hand because Alex had become so pale he thought the young man would faint.

  “I—I will leave Exceat today, Father. I will ride through the night to Roselynde. I am sure Sir Simon will send someone immediately to take my place—”


  “Fool!” Father Harold interrupted. “That is just what I thought you were planning to do. You were planning to take your sin and dump it on Sir Frewyn, were you not?”

  Now Alex was completely befuddled. “Dump?” he repeated. “I—I don’t understand. What—what do you want me to do? I was going to tell Sir Frewyn that I had violated his trust and—and go away so I would no longer be a danger.”

  “Thus escaping your rightful punishment?”

  “No, Father.” Alex’s confusion only became more intense. “I will accept any punishment you decree. I know I deserve to be flayed at the whipping post, but I thought it would be bad for the discipline of the men…” Alex’s voice drifted away as he saw Father Harold shake his head.

  “That would be the easy way,” the priest said. “You would have a sore back and then forget the whole thing.”

  “Forget?” Alex whispered. “No, I will not forget.”

  “Good. So much the better. Then shoulder your own burden. Do not lay it on Sir Frewyn’s shoulders. He is too frail now to accustom himself to a new castellan. You must continue to serve Exceat, at least while Sir Frewyn lives. Only see that you offer no more temptation to Lady Desiree.”

  Alex blinked. “Should I go live with the men-at-arms so that we will not encounter each other?”

  “Certainly not.” Father Harold’s voice was severe. “How do you think we would keep that secret from Sir Frewyn? No. You will live as you have lived. You will take your meals at the high table every day except in an emergency. You will not seek to salve your sin with absence. You will not touch Lady Desiree nor say to her what you have no right to say. Beyond that, you will speak to her as always. Now, here is Elias. Tell Sir Frewyn about the sheriff’s letter and keep your other troubles to yourself.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  At first Alex thought he could not bear it, would not dare look into Sir Frewyn’s face with the feel of Desiree in his hands, the taste of Desiree in his mouth. He had thought when Father Harold dismissed the notion of having him whipped that the priest was too lenient. Now he knew better. As Elias led him toward Frewyn’s bed his throat was closed with horror and disgust. He felt he could not speak to the man he had so wronged and knew that he must.

  Then he saw that Frewyn was dressed, shaved, propped nearly upright on pillows, and that the old man’s eyes were open and alert, that his mouth, although it sagged a little on one side, was otherwise firm. Such joy filled Alex to see his mentor almost restored that the knot in his throat loosened. He dropped to his knees and took Frewyn’s hand to kiss.

  “You have a letter?” Frewyn asked.

  “Yes, from Sir Simon and it is mostly good news, but I had some doubts about the timing and wanted your advice.”

  Eadgyth met Desiree at the door of the solar shaking her head. “You will not believe what those silly hens were quarreling about.”

  Desiree looked at her, utterly blank. “What silly hens?” she asked.

  The explosion of emotions that had racked her when she fell into Alex’s arms and anew when she was scolded by Father Harold had wiped the women’s fight from her mind. Eadgyth was surprised, but she reviewed the fight and explained that several of the women had blamed Gunilda for their punishment—as if Desiree would not have done something to punish them for the ill-woven cloth even if Gunilda had not spoken. Others defended her. There was pushing and slapping and someone tripped on the cloth on the floor—and Gunilda ended up in the hearth.

  “Yes, of course.” Desiree shrugged and sighed. “Well, they are silly hens.” She looked down at the floor near the hearth, walked over and sniffed, but it had no significant stink and clean rushes had been strewn. She looked back at Eadgyth. “How far along has Maud got with her cutting?”

  As the maid answered, Desiree looked across the chamber; her lips tightened with rage. Two women were sewing cut pieces that Maud had provided, but the other women were sitting on stools pulled close and whispering to one another.

  “You worthless, lazy sluts,” Desiree shouted. “Why are the looms still holding that trash? Up. Every loom is to be emptied. Every loom is to be restrung, and as many loose threads or lumpy threads as I find in the warp, so many strokes with a cane will Eadgyth lay upon your backs.”

  All the women leapt to their feet, many overturning the stools upon which they were sitting. Several rushed to each loom and began to release the warp threads. Several more began to examine the hanks of yarn. Soft exclamations of anguish came from those women. Desiree turned to Maud, who dropped her scissor and wrung her hands.

  “I have something more important for you to do than to cut cloth for that gaggle of geese. Go down to Sir Alex’s chamber and bring here his gown and his shirt. Look also into his chest and bring a pair of braies and chausses. We will need patterns of everything for new clothing for him. Then you can finish with the maids’ garments.” Her lips tightened. “Until then, since they prefer to sit idle than to work, they can work naked.”

  “In the cold?” Maud whispered.

  Desiree did not answer, and Maud sobbed once. Desiree glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. She would not find the women idle again, she thought, then walked toward her own chamber, passing a pallet not far from the hearth.

  As she walked by, Gunilda cried out. Desiree frowned, knelt down, and asked to see the burnt arm, wondering if she had missed something or the wound had begun to fester. It seemed far too soon for festering, and treated burns that were not repeatedly broken open did not tend to fester.

  Gunilda cowered back and wailed. Desiree called Eadgyth. Between them they seized Gunilda’s arm, unwrapped the bandages—Gunilda screaming all the while as if she were being dismembered. Desiree looked carefully at the burn, but it seemed, if anything, a little less red and swollen.

  Still, Desiree thought, it would do no harm to add a little more salve. Eadgyth went for the pot while Desiree tried to calm Gunilda, assuring her that nothing seemed to be wrong and that the pain would soon diminish. But nothing would satisfy the woman who wailed and moaned, and when Eadgyth returned with the salve, screamed all the while Desiree applied it.

  Desiree was strongly tempted to slap Gunilda, but she restrained herself and merely walked away to her own chamber where her eyes fell on the good cloth she had put aside. There was the dark red and three pieces of brown in various shades. None of those would do for a gown for Alex. The red would be awful with his coloring, and she had seen enough of that dull brown gown. However, the red would serve for chausses. A green tunic or gown would look good over them. And for working tunics, the browns would do.

  She was roused from this pleasant contemplation by Maud’s return, and another very pleasant interval was spent in marking a pattern of Alex’s clothing on various pieces of cloth Desiree had in store. That the pattern of a shirt went on cloth laid aside for her shift only gave Desiree a feeling of warmth. She did not think of that as violating Father Harold’s stricture. She was not lusting after Alex, only pleased because she was able to give him something.

  However, it did occur to her after a while that she was certainly not suffering any punishment for the sin she had committed. It seemed wrong to be so content after her transgression. She looked around; the women were all busy.

  Having set the work properly in train—she hoped—Desiree began to walk to the door to go down to Frewyn. Then she remembered that Alex might still be there. She went back to her chamber and plumped herself down on the chair. And almost bounced out of it again when a bloodcurdling scream came from the outer chamber.

  “What is it?” Desiree called from her doorway.

  “Gunilda,” a disgusted voice replied. “Beg pardon, m’lady, but my skirt only brushed against her pallet.”

  “You hurt me. You hurt me,” Gunilda wailed.

  Desiree drew an exasperated breath. “Eadgyth, get some wine from the kitchen store—I will not waste better on her—and I will mix a sleeping potion for her. There is nothing wrong with her arm. I just looked
at it. It seems to be healing well.”

  “Don’t fret yourself, my lady,” Eadgyth said. “She’s just a complainer. She wails over everything.”

  “Perhaps,” Desiree said, smiling slightly, “but I do not need to listen to her. Oh, and when you are below, stop by Sir Frewyn’s chamber and see if I will be welcome there now.”

  When Eadgyth returned with the wine, Desiree opened the chest of medicines, but she had to search for a time before she found a packet of sleeping powder. “This is the last,” she said, frowning. “But I am sure that there were two or three more.”

  “Oh, yes, there were, m’lady. Oh, that Byford! He came and begged me for a sleeping draught for one of the new men, and I went and got two packets from the chest and gave them to him. And he so beguiled me with funny tales of the men and their ignorance that I forgot all about it. I am very sorry, m’lady, very sorry.”

  “Fortunately there is still a packet here. I will make more tomorrow because I have the feeling that that one will go on shrieking and holding her arm long after it is healed.”

  The maid laughed and nodded agreement and then said, “I did speak to Elias. He said that Sir Frewyn is asleep just now, but he thought his master would not sleep long. Sir Alex was talking to Sir Frewyn about the men taken prisoner, but he is gone now.”

  “Thank you, Eadgyth. Put a spoonful of the powder into the cup, pour in some wine and mix well. Do you think you can give this to Gunilda by yourself, or will you need me?”

  “No, m’lady. I’ll manage better alone.” She grimaced. “Only hard thing will be not to fix the dose so that she goes on sleeping for good.”

  “That is very uncharitable,” Desiree said, and then giggled. “I wish I did not agree with you.” She started again as a new shriek from Gunilda rent the air. “I will go seek peace in Frewyn’s chamber.”

  She actually found peace there. As Elias had thought, Frewyn only needed a short nap. He was awake and propped up on his pillows when Desiree came in, far more alert than he had been in days. They talked about small things for a while—Desiree told him about her shrieking maid and won the half grimace that was his smile, then he asked her to read to him.