by Maria Ling
Father took her in his arms. "Go and be happy," he whispered. "That is all I have ever wanted for you."
A light breeze blew in through the open door, carrying the scents of summer. And the faint rattle of armour, too, a rhythmic tinkle in the distance. Emmanuel's host was riding up the lane.
"I'm frightened," Juliana confessed, weak for one more instant of childhood. "Happy - never think otherwise. But I've never been married before."
Father laughed. "You'll get used to it quicker than you think. Go and make ready. Your husband is almost here."
Not yet her husband. But soon - that sacred moment was so close she could almost taste it.
Juliana went on her way, moving as if in a daze. She was already washed and dressed and combed, she had little to do but pace. But she found a window that let her overlook the open space between the stables and the manor house itself, where the lane ran up towards the house.
There they were. Glinting in the sunlight, with colours bright and horses dancing. A banner flapped audibly in the breeze, carried aloft at the head of the troop. And there rode Emmanuel, tall and strong, every inch a lord.
She was proud to welcome him as a husband.
Juliana watched the troop arrive, the men dismount, the horses led off to be walked. An empty cart, decked with wreaths and ribbons, rolled to a stop right under her window. She would travel in that cart tomorrow, towards her new home. For now, she watched it be covered over safely and left to one side of the entrance, a visible sign of her impending departure.
She felt a deep sadness at that thought, an ache underneath all her excitement. After today, she would not belong here any more.
But she refused to cry. Today of all days, she was resolved to be happy. And she was, indeed - joy bubbled through her, impossible to contain.
Emmanuel's voice reached her from below. He was within the hall now, greeting her father - she could hear them well from here. And it warmed her heart to hear the mellow notes of friendship as they spoke. They stood on good terms with each other, and would evermore remain so.
It would be a peculiar transition, from neighbours to father and son. But they were already well along that path and looked set to reach their destination without difficulty.
Juliana smoothed down her blue tunic, drew in a steadying breath, held her head high. Then knocked on the door to Mother's room, put her head through the gap. "He's here."
"Good heavens," Mother said blankly. "Already?" She waved a helpless hand towards the corner, where a couple of the youngest girls were squabbling over a belt. "Don't let them make a mess of you, dear, but - can you separate them? It's the excitement, I'm sure."
Juliana intervened, in the cool tone she reserved for such encounters. It usually worked. "This is my special day, you know," she reminded the girls. "Don't ruin it for me."
Tearful apologies followed, and the offering of the battered belt for her to wear. Juliana quelled a smile.
"I already have mine on," she said, indicating her waist. "I'm ready, which is just as well, because the wedding party is here. But look at you two!"
"Thank you," Mother said, disentangling herself from a recalcitrant plait. "It was my mistake, sending the attendants away. I should have known better, I suppose. But I thought it would be nice if we walked down as a family, this one last time."
"It would," Juliana agreed, blinking away the brief sting of tears. She got her little siblings ready, and had the delight of walking down the stairs with two eager hands clutching hers. Then she was back in the hall, crowded now with men and voices, and a strange sense of unreality took hold of her.
When the moment came, she felt as if she was not really present at all - she seemed to watch the proceedings from far away, heard her own voice as if from a distance.
"Before God, and of my own free will, I do promise to be your wife, faithful and loving in all things." Her voice rang between the walls, confident and strong. She met Emmanuel's eyes, and the blaze of adoration in them consumed her.
"Before God," he said, "and of my own free will, I do promise to be your husband, constant and true, and to serve and protect you with my life."
That was it. They were married. Cheers broke out all around them, the mingled retinues of two families now joined together as one. Then the music began, and the feasting. Juliana's strange mood dissolved in the general mirth, and she began to relax into her new status as a wife.
Until the time came to withdraw. Mercifully, she was spared any comments. Mother simply appeared at her elbow, and steered her away.
"I thought it better," Mother confided as they made their way up the stairs. "Men can be a little too outspoken on these matters."
Juliana shuddered. Then let herself be led into the guest room, set aside for her and Emmanuel for tonight. Let Mother help her get ready, which brought an eerie sadness of its own. They had been this close long ago, during years now lost forever, when Juliana was a little child. Younger sisters had taken that place since then, in Mother's heart and arms, and Juliana had ceded it - ungrudgingly, as best she could recall. But she grieved now, for all the hugs and touches she had missed since then.
"There," Mother said. "You look beautiful." She put the comb down, surveyed her handiwork, tucked the sheet a little closer around Juliana's shoulders. Leaned over suddenly and kissed Juliana's hair. A light and affectionate touch, one Juliana recognised from long ago when she was a child. It brought an ache to her heart.
There hadn't been all that much affection at home for many years. Kindness and friendship, absolutely. But this gentle sharing of a caress - everything was so busy always, the little ones demanded all that Mother could give, there never seemed quite enough time for this acknowledgement of the bond between mother and daughter. Juliana's throat clogged at the thought that she'd never experience it again. Tomorrow she would be gone forever.
All at once she yearned desperately to stay. This place had never seemed so wonderful before, so golden with familiarity and love. Because there was love here, she knew that. Had always known.
"I didn't speak to Caroline as I should have done." Mother gave Juliana's shoulder a hesitant caress. "She was always so sure of herself, and Alan seemed to admire her so completely - I trusted all would be well. And it was, she told me so the next morning, I did ask..." Mother trailed off, uncharacteristically uncertain. "But I should have said something beforehand. It was neglectful of me not to do so. I don't want to make that mistake with you. So..." She hesitated. "Is there anything you want to ask me about tonight?"
Juliana stared. This could not be Mother, so abashed and almost shy. And Juliana blushed to think of the questions she did want answered, but not by Mother. Nor by asking outright. She couldn't bring herself to do that.
"I wish for you to know," Mother said, "that it should be a joy and a pleasure for both. Wife and husband alike. This coming together. Not painful or frightening in any way. You understand?"
Juliana cringed. Yes, she did understand, only too well. Although she appreciated the intention, she longed for Mother to stop talking and go away.
But she must say something. "I do," Juliana admitted. "And I'm sure Emmanuel - " a smile blossomed on her lips as she spoke that name - "will take every care."
"I'm certain he will," Mother agreed. "But just in case something goes amiss, I do want you to know it's not your fault, and it's not how things are supposed to be."
Juliana blushed deeper, and said only: "Thank you."
"I'll leave you now," Mother said. "But I won't let you go from here in the morning unless you are completely happy. That is a promise." She hugged Juliana close.
Juliana leaned her head on Mother's shoulder, and felt unaccountably relieved.
"Well." Mother released her hold, recovered her usual briskness of manner, stood up. "No one will thank me for delaying the great moment." She spoke with a tone that bordered on irreverence.
Juliana giggled nervously, fought down the urge to plead with Mother to stay. Obvio
usly that would be impossible. But she didn't want to be alone. Now that it had come to it, she feared the reality.
She tried not to. Truly she did. But dread crept over her anyway, clammy and cold despite the mild evening air.
Mother paused at the door, gave a little wave, smiled encouragement. Then disappeared, and was gone.
Juliana shivered, and drew the light blanket closer around her.
Men's voices murmured beyond the door, and someone laughed. Then Emmanuel strode in, full of confidence, turned to say a pointed goodbye to someone who apparently wished to accompany him, shut the door with a firmness that brooked no argument. Stood for a moment quite still, looking at her, until Juliana lowered her gaze.
"Squires," Emmanuel said in an apologetic tone. "Quite improper for me to be unattended, a man in my position must remember my station, et cetera. Worse than mothers, those boys can be. Well, I'll have to manage by myself for one evening, because they're not coming in here."
Juliana found courage to meet his eyes, caught the glint in them, stifled a laugh.
"That's better." Emmanuel came over and sat on the edge of the bed, comfortable here as everywhere else, while she trembled with the significance of the moment. He took her hands in his own, held them in a manner so reassuring that she breathed out.
Only then did she realise she'd held her breath from the moment he walked in.
"You look very calm," Emmanuel said. "I envy your composure. Will you think less of me if I admit I'm a little nervous myself?"
Juliana stared at him, startled out of her dread. "Are you?"
"Of course."
But he had no need to be - so confident in every way. Also, he'd done this before. "Why?" Juliana asked, puzzled.
"For many reasons. Not least of which - " he raised her hands up, kissed each of them in turn - "is the fear that I will disappoint you."
"Fear?" She couldn't believe that, not of him.
"Most certainly." Emmanuel laid down her hands, reached out to caress her face. "Whereas you can never be anything other than the answer to my dreams."
That warmed her, as no sunshine or hearthfire ever could. "What dreams are those?" she asked, teasing, because if she didn't make some joke or other she would cry.
Emmanuel leaned over slowly, rested his lips on hers. Kissed her very gently, so that she reached for him in turn and drew him close, willed him deeper. Still he held off, until she touched his tongue with hers. A shudder ran through him then, and he seized her shoulders and held her tight.
She lay back, drew him down with her, wrapped her arms around him. He was heavier than she'd expected, she struggled for breath. Emmanuel laughed softly, released his hold on her and pushed himself away.
"Patience," he said as he got off the bed. "I've had to learn it. Now it's your turn."
"I've been patient," Juliana protested.
"I meant with regard to me." Emmanuel began to undress, pulled off tunic and shirt, then shoes and hose, until he stood before her entirely naked.
"So did I," Juliana whispered. She could do no more: she was utterly entranced by him. She'd never seen a naked man before, and was awed by the taut lines and strong muscles of a body so different from her own.
"I've thought of this for years." Emmanuel eased the sheet from her, uncovered her body and traced its curves with his fingertips. "Longed for it. But I dared not show that - I knew you were too young. I had to compose myself to wait until you were ready. So I yearned, and at times it seemed entirely hopeless, while you never once thought of me in such a way. That's what I meant."
Memories flooded Juliana's mind, of all the fantasies she'd had. "I did think of you in such a way."
Emmanuel stilled. Searched for her gaze with his, while she evaded it. She could not bear to look at him now. "Truly?"
"For the longest time," Juliana confessed. "Always, it seems like. More than two years."
Emmanuel laughed. "Ah. Well, I suppose in terms of your lifespan so far, that is a considerable time. Let's split the difference and agree we've both learned to be patient."
But they did not need to be - not any more. Juliana made room for him on the bed. He lay down next to her and wrapped the sheet around them both. His skin felt hot against her own. She touched him gently, hesitating. Did not wish to seem wanton, yet his presence filled her with a desire she burned to express.
Emmanuel laid his arm around her, strong and sure. "If you are anxious about tonight, that is natural. But there is no hurry. I'm content to move at your pace."
Fast. She surprised herself with that thought. Didn't dare let it show in her face. But her hand travelled over his body, quicker than she'd intended, slid around the back of his neck and held him firm. She turned her eyes towards his, and felt the desire spiral up through her chest and escape into her arms and hands and mouth.
Emmanuel caught his breath. Leaned down to kiss her, and this time she did not permit him to remain gentle. They joined in a passionate meeting of lips and tongues, while their bodies pressed together and their hands quested for more of each touch.
On instinct, she parted her legs and drew him in. He came willingly, eager and hard - and hot, she gasped as he entered the realm between her thighs, because the presence of him there burned. Not with pain - or it was brief, it was nothing - but with an intimate merging that felt so utterly right. Her body arched to meet his, her legs wrapped tight around his body, her mouth touched the warm skin of his neck - tasted salt and flesh
He moved against her and inside her, rhythmically, gradually deepening his thrust, until a wave of pleasure washed over her and carried her away. She clung to him then, shuddering, and he thrust hard and deep within her, until finally he also shuddered and cried out, and then subsided.
It was over. And it was wonderful. And she wanted more.
Juliana held him close, laughed up at the ceiling, thought with renewed jubilation that they would be together like this every night of their joint lives. That he was truly hers, and she was his. Body and soul. Forever.
She was awfully glad, though, that she'd quelled the impulse to cry out. Because the floor above held the family rooms, and she blushed all over to think that one of the little ones might have heard.
***
CHAPTER 8
Emmanuel's home smelled different. It was bigger, of course - a large stone mansion, built on a natural hill so that it dominated the landscape all around. More crowded, too: Juliana had never seen so many men in one place. Except for Alan's tournament, of course. She was glad to have experienced that, because it made this encounter less of a shock.
They had all turned out to welcome their lord home. Masses of ringmail glinted in the sun, like shining walls on either side of the entrance. But they cheered for her. Juliana blushed as she approached, because she heard them chanting her name.
"My steward's doing, I suspect," Emmanuel said with a smile. "It's just the sort of thing he'd dream up. You'll like him, I think. A great friend of your father's - used to squire with him at one time."
"Did he?" Juliana stared at her husband, wide-eyed. "I didn't know that. Father never said." Though he might have done, she reminded herself conscientiously. Somewhere in the midst of all those rambling reminiscences, he might well have let slip some such nugget of information.
She wished she'd listened better, now. But it had never occurred to her before that such knowledge might be useful.
She felt less alone, knowing there was at least one man here who knew Father well. Two, of course. She glanced sideways at Emmanuel, dazzled. He looked more handsome than ever, riding beside her with an air of absolute contentment. Thanks to her, she knew that with a secret joy that bubbled within her. Because they were married, and because of what they shared.
Oh, it had been wonderful. Even in her most indulgent fantasies she had never imagined anything like that. The reality far outshone her modest maidenly dreams.
And yet... She hadn't quite dared let herself go. Too conscious of her own
family in nearby rooms. She'd been passionate, yes, granting and receiving the most intimate caresses, giving herself over to helpless ecstasy. But not entirely abandoned herself to it, no, she couldn't quite bring herself to do that. Not yet.
Whereas here...
Juliana glanced around, shyly, at the many men who cheered with such uninhibited glee. She cringed at the thought of them knowing, or guessing - no, of course they knew what she and Emmanuel had done. Would do again. Oh God, she blushed all over to think of it. How could she live among them, when they all knew?
Yet they weren't coarse. Nothing about their demeanour suggested such a thought. It was her own fear alone that caused her to flinch. Or not fear exactly - self-consciousness. Self-doubt.
She had promised herself to relinquish that. But keeping the promise was proving harder than she'd anticipated.
The gatehouse reared up before her, all grim stone and festive banners. And she was through into cool shade beneath the arch - and then out again into a blaze of sunshine, in a paved courtyard surrounded by high walls.
She ought to feel enclosed. The air was still here, and hot, and the walls cut off the landscape from around her: she saw only the sky. Yet somehow that was comforting. Juliana craned her neck to look up, into a bleached blue unsullied by any stain of cloud.
"Welcome home," Emmanuel said. He had dismounted, and stood by her knee, ready to lift her down from the horse. Grooms attended nearby, but he would not let any other man touch her. Not yet.
Juliana smiled at that, laid her arms over his strong shoulders and let herself be lifted down. Stood for a moment close to him, chest to chest, with her forehead just touching the mail that hung around his neck. It was hot against her skin, she winced a little and pulled back.
"Sorry," Emmanuel murmured. "Yes, be careful. I'll get this stuff off as soon as I can."
She hadn't really imagined this, Juliana reflected. When she'd dreamed of being married to Emmanuel, it had been a hazy vision of the two of them alone. Not entirely alone, not totally wrapped in each other's physical presence, there had always been a vague sense of propriety floating through her dreams. But solitary, enjoying a walk through the fields or a peaceful hour talking over their concerns of the day, or quietly touching in the privacy of their shared bed.