Fires of Winter

by Roberta Gellis

  Hugh sighed. “I know. He gave far too much in that last treaty with the Scots. Let us hope he does not give more away in this one, if one is proposed. Well, you must do what is best for you, Bruno, but remember the offer for you to be vassal at Heugh stands. Whenever you desire the place, you need only deliver to me…what is it? Oh yes, the token is three speckled chicken feathers tied to a poniard and an eel.”

  “Does the eel have to be fresh?” Bruno asked with spurious solemnity. “That might cause a problem. A pickled eel might be had at any time, but a fresh one—”

  I thought that levity very wrong after Hugh’s great generosity, and I pinched Bruno low on the back, where my hand would not be seen moving, to urge him to say one word of thanks at least.

  Hugh jumped up and hit Bruno fondly in the head. “Go to bed!” he ordered. “I think you have pickled brains.”

  Bruno rose and took my hand with such alacrity that I could only imagine some signal had passed between him and Hugh that I had not noticed. Surprise allowed my body to get up and follow my husband while my brain still sat on the bench wondering what had happened. It was still wondering when Bruno slammed the tower door shut with his heel and caught me into his arms and kissed me. In fact, I do not think my brain got off that bench and came up to join me until far too late. By then my body had been free for too long to be recaptured by sober thought.

  Chapter 15

  Bruno

  I did the king’s business well enough, but it does not take much diplomacy to convince a man to accept thanks and a reward. That was fortunate because my mind was not undivided. In truth, I felt as if my head were full of separate parts: one part grieved over my stupidity and ingratitude to Sir Oliver; another rejoiced over Melusine’s kindness to me; a third examined that joy with suspicion; a fourth tried to gather information on what was left of the Scots’ resistance and whether Aumale was strong enough to wipe this out without the help of those from Yorkshire who had already left his force to attend their own affairs or were about to leave; and a last small fragment spoke to each man for whom I had a message of the king’s pleasure in his strength and devotion and of the king’s desire to see him at court and thank him in person.

  As the number and importance of those to whom I must speak with diminished—naturally, I saw Aumale first, Espec next, and so on in order of precedence although it doubled or tripled the distance I had to ride—the first three concerns loomed larger and larger. In the beginning the injustice I had done Sir Oliver overshadowed all other thoughts, but each time that grief came into my mind I also recalled Melusine’s tender sympathy. By the time my errands were done, the two hung in even balance, my reluctance to return to Jernaeve and face the piercing reminders of Sir Oliver just equal to my eagerness to see Melusine again.

  The greeting I received overset that balance completely. After the hunt, Melusine had come to me with an outstretched hand and a warm smile, but in Jernaeve I found arms around my neck and a kiss that was a very distant cousin, indeed, to a kiss of peace. To my shame I must admit that any thought of Sir Oliver flew right out of my head. All that remained in it was a need to discover the meaning of that kiss. My earliest apprehension, that Melusine had somehow offended Audris—although how she could do that without hitting her with a stick or dropping Eric on his head I could not imagine—and made herself unwelcome and thus unhappy, was cast aside almost as it struck me. The laughter and comments showed Melusine to have earned love, making herself part of the family in Jernaeve.

  There were then only two alternatives: Melusine’s desire for me, or for a man in general, which I had seen partly wakened the night I returned from the hunt, had been again aroused—by my absence?—and she was so innocent and ignorant of men other than fathers and brothers that she did not herself understand the kiss she had bestowed on me. The other alternative, less pleasant, was that every move Melusine had made since our marriage had been planned, and she was a succubus straight out of hell.

  The second alternative I dismissed—not completely, but enough so it would not influence how I intended to act. There was nothing I could do about the evil in her, if there was any, until she tried to use her power on me. So long as I was aware that evil might be intended, I could enjoy what was offered. It was much like using a strange whore in a large town. If you were not aware of the tricks that could be played, you might lose your purse and even your life to the girl or the men who owned her; however, with adequate precautions, she would work hard to provide you with pleasure.

  Before the afternoon and evening had passed, I could cheerfully have murdered Melusine. She followed that kiss with more go and stop signals than the most practiced flirt among the queen’s ladies had used to tempt me. One moment Melusine slid a hand down the back of my arm; the next, when I moved my thigh to touch hers, she moved sharply away from me. Then she would listen to me, frowning in thought while I spoke of the places the Scots still held as if she were measuring King David’s chances to advance again. Only when I glanced at her to see her reaction to my words, I would notice her eyes had slid from my face to my lap. And yet there was no sly invitation in her eyes; she looked worried. I do not now remember everything, only that I was so bemused by Melusine’s teasing that I did not understand when Hugh, out of the goodness of his heart and Audris’s, offered me a true livelihood as vassal of Heugh.

  First I thought he wanted me as castellan, and I was sorry I could not oblige him, but then he made it plain that he and Audris were prepared to rob their own children to provide for me. I hesitated only an instant, glancing at Melusine; I heard her whisper “Ulle,” and could only hope she meant that she still wanted the lands. I could not steal from Hugh to provide for Melusine no matter how much she made me wish to protect her. If Melusine could not abide Ulle, we could rebuild or live on one of the lesser estates; if I could not get Ulle back and could not support her, she would have to live here in Jernaeve.

  I had guessed right with regard to Melusine’s desire for Ulle though, because she pressed herself against me when Hugh and I were talking of the possibility of regaining the lands. Hugh thought he had hurt her by mentioning her father’s treason, but when I had spoken of it in the past she had only stared me down, so I think she wished to show she was pleased with my refusal of Heugh. But when I made a jest about the vassal’s token to turn the subject, Melusine began to tease again and pinched me on the buttock.

  Perhaps Hugh saw her hand move or I was not quick enough in hiding my expression, but he ordered us off to bed. At that moment I think I was more grateful to him for that than for the offer of Heugh. I admit I expected another shift to coldness, a protest that it was too early for bed or some resistance when I took her hand to lead her up, but she came at once, without a word, and in the time it took to cross the hall and climb the stair, I decided that I would bandy no more words or cautious gestures with her. As we entered the chamber, I saw some servant had lit tapers so we would not be in the dark, and I pushed the door closed with my foot, took her in my arms, and kissed her with all the passion pent up in me.

  Since I had never before kissed an innocent woman, I had no idea what to expect—except that she might try to fight her way free of me. But Melusine did not resist at all. When I first put my mouth to hers, her eyes opened wide, and her arms hung limp; then her eyes closed and one hand stole up my arm to clutch my sleeve. A little later the other slid over my back and around my neck. Her lips were still, but as her eyes closed I could feel them grow fuller and a touch more moist. Her grip on me tightened too, so I took the chance of relaxing my hold with one arm and stroking her back, gradually moving my hand until the fingers were caressing one side of her breast. Her lips parted then, and I let my tongue, just the tip, slip between them.

  Then I had a stroke of luck. Her bliaut was laced on the side where my hand touched her breast. It was not difficult to pull out the bow and begin to loosen the tie while I touched her, but that was as far as I coul
d go without breaking our kiss. I was hard and ready—I had been in that state and at some pains to conceal it more than once this day—and I gave a thought to pushing her back onto the bed, lifting her skirt, dropping my chausses, and having at her. In five minutes I would be content—and Melusine might be so disgusted that I would lose her forever. So I withdrew my tongue and lightened the pressure of my lips on hers, lifted them, kissed the corner of her mouth and then her chin.

  Slowly, her eyes opened and she drew her head back so she could see me. “Oh, thank you,” she whispered. “How did you know? I did not know how to tell you.”

  I almost pushed her away. After the skilled hot and cold teasing she had administered all afternoon, the words pretending innocence and ignorance seemed a crude contrivance, but my standing man throbbed and pleaded in his silent way and I decided to content him and at the same time to teach Melusine a lesson. When I was done with her, she would crave me more than I craved her. So instead of answering her directly, I turned her within my arm and drew her toward the bed, kissing her neck and stroking the inside of her palm with my forefinger.

  Near the bed she held back and I thought that I would force her if she began to play no-I-cannot games with me now. As to that, I had misjudged her; she only asked, as simply as a child, if she should help me undress first or undress first herself. That made me a little less angry because I knew she had been a virgin when I first had her and whatever her intentions toward me or her knowledge of teasing a man, it was likely that she had never done more than tease in the safety of company. Perhaps she was not sure what to do.

  “Let us make a game of it,” I murmured, nipping her earlobe and breathing softly into her ear. “I will take off your clothes and you take off mine at the same time.”

  She giggled softly. “But we will get all entangled.”

  Her dark eyes were so bright that in this moment they shone more lucently than light ones. “That is our purpose after all,” I told her, laughing also but watching her.

  Melusine blushed. It was not as obvious as the red flush of a blond woman, but it had a subtle loveliness. The color came up under her dark skin, turning it softly rosy, like a rich fruit. I leaned forward and bit her gently, catching the musky scent of an excited woman mingled with something sweet—a rich fruit indeed.

  When my teeth scraped lightly across her jaw, one of Melusine’s hands rose and wavered about. I took it in mine and laid it on my belt buckle. The leather was soft; I had put aside my sword belt when I took off my armor. She made quick work of undoing it, using no gesture, even one that might be thought an accident, to arouse me. It was just as well. I needed no encouragement.

  I took longer over undoing the ornamental knots of her girdle, brushing her lower belly with my fingers as I unwove the silken cords. She closed her eyes again, standing with my belt hanging awkwardly from her hand; I had to push it from her fingers and she did not seem to notice when it fell to the floor.

  So it went. As I laid her hand on each garment, Melusine took off my clothes without an unnecessary touch, seeming only half aware of what she was doing even when my upper body was bare. But I took no offense. It was clear that she was totally enwrapped in the feelings of her own body, and I had no difficulty believing that these were all new to her and that the long breaths and short ones, the little shivers and quick gasps were all true signs of what she felt. That gave me so much pleasure, for with a whore it is impossible to tell how much of their response is true delight and how much is art, that I came near to spilling my seed without any help.

  I stiffened and drew a deep breath and then thought it was purposeless to torment myself with holding back. I had a long row to hoe before I could plunge my spade into Melusine’s earth and plant seed there. Let her bring me on by touch; I would still be lively enough before I had her ready. So I pulled the tie of my chausses and set her hands on my hips. I knew she would have to kneel to pull off the feet—I had already slid my feet out of my shoes—and I had a hand under her chin to lift her head as soon as my feet were bare. Her face was only inches from my private parts, and she stiffened in surprise, perhaps in fear, for from so close an engorged rod might look huge.

  “That is my standing man, Melusine,” I said softly, one hand on her hair. “You know his name. You must not fear him, for he loves you and only wishes for your pleasure. Come, make friends.”

  She chuckled, and the stiffness went out of her, but she did not raise her eyes to my face, seeming fascinated by what she already saw. “How make friends?” she asked.

  “He is not very clever,” I admitted. “There is no brain in that red head. He loves to be stroked—but only if that gives pleasure to the doer.”

  Now I took my hand from Melusine’s head so that she would feel no constraint to kneel longer, but she did not rise. She put out a finger and ran it from the head of my shaft to the base and back again. As is wont to happen, Sir Jehan bucked. Melusine jerked her hand away, then giggled, and stroked me again. I touched her cheek, slid my hand under her hair, and tickled her ear. She drew two fingers up me, scraping gently with her nails, and then again. It was enough. I gasped as my liquor spilled, and Melusine sprang up, crying, “No, no.”

  It was no mighty spill, nor was it accompanied by such thrills of pleasure as wring groans from a man and leave him breathless, which was my intent. I was able to catch Melusine before she moved away and draw her to me, murmuring, “Hush, you have lost nothing.”

  “But you have spilled the milk that makes a child,” she cried, pulling away a little. “I thought you knew. I want a baby.”

  I had to swallow to hold back laughter. Now I understood the excuse Melusine had given herself for changing her mind about coupling with me. Not that I thought the excuse a false one—I had seen her dandling Eric and hugging and kissing him too—but it was plain she wanted more than the poke or two it takes to make a child. I had no intention of shocking her with the truth, however, and all I said was, “There is plenty more where that came from.”

  She blinked and looked away, color coming up under her skin again, more strongly than at first. “Yes, of course,” she said. “I did not mean…I only meant…”

  It would never do to grin like an idiot. She only meant she did not want to wait. The idea brought a stir to Sir Jehan, who had been drooping, and to encourage him to stand tall again as well as to save Melusine from having to find an end to her sentence, I caught her tight to me and kissed her again.

  “We will start on that baby very soon,” I murmured into her ear. “Silly woman, I spilled apurpose so that I should be able to show you how great a pleasure it is to create a child.”

  I do not think she believed me, perhaps because Sir Jehan was still leaning wearily against my thigh, but she did not push me away when I began to stroke her hip and thigh with one hand while pressing her against me with the other, moving my chest gently from side to side so that the cloth of her shift slipped back and forth across her nipples. I could feel them thrusting forward, pressing against me, and as I stroked upward I caught the shift in my hand and pulled it off. The cloth caught against the hard, rich-brown buds that topped her full breasts, and she cried out, lifting a hand to protect them. But I had bent and caught one in my mouth, cupping my hand over the other, before her hand reached so high.

  She cried out again then, the hand she had lifted pushing against my shoulder for a moment while the other gripped my buttocks and pulled me tighter. In the next instant, she caught at my head to pull it closer, abandoned that movement, and tangled her fingers in my hair. I could feel her shaking, her legs trembling against mine so that I was afraid she would fall. Carefully, I backed her the few steps to the bed and, supporting her with one arm, pushed her back until she was lying down. I was hard and ready again; now she had to be so wild she would not notice any pain of stretching when I entered her.

  I raised my lips from her breast to kiss her mouth, but continued t
o tease her nipples with one hand while I caressed her nether mouth with my other. She moaned and bucked, trying to force my hand into her, and when my fingers were wet with her woman’s dew, I mounted her at last. Her need drove her to learn the rhythm of love easily, and she soon cried and shuddered in a climax of joy. I did not withdraw, but I let her rest, only moving enough to keep myself ready, then began again.

  We lay late abed in the morning. Although I had wakened at my usual time, I was glad to take advantage of having no duties. I was very curious to know what Melusine would do and say. Not much later, I became aware that she had wakened also, but when I turned my eyes to her—barely shifting my head so that she should not notice me watching—I saw that her eyes were still closed. She was pretending sleep—out of shame? Before I had done with her during the night, she had rubbed herself against me and finally pleaded with me in words for release.

  I was amused, knowing she had not expected to need to confront me immediately. Usually I was gone to my duties before she woke. For a few moments more, I lay quietly, wondering if she would give up her pretense, but then I thought it would be stupid if my teasing turned shame into bitterness and taught her to resent her pleasure in me. To be honest, I had never had such joy before myself. Even the first violent burstings of my manhood were nothing compared with what Melusine had given me. I had planned out of spite for the way she had teased me to make her crave me; probably I had succeeded, but I wondered if I had not trapped myself as much as her. I could die of thirst if she became so angry as to close her well to me.

  “May I wish you a good morning, Melusine?” I said, turning to her openly. “God knows, I wish you nothing but good, morning, noon, and eventide for all of your life.”

  Her big eyes opened promptly, and she looked at me seriously for a moment, then smiled wryly. “You may wish me good, but I cannot yet judge what you have done me. Of one thing I am sure, not every woman has such an experience in coupling.”