“This child is your own true child, my lord. If you will not accept it then you no longer accept me, for without trust between us, we have no real marriage.” Before he might answer her, Mairin turned and left the hall.
Eric laughed. “The child is mine,” he said, “for I fucked her first the same day I took her back from you. You may kill me, Josselin de Combourg, but it is my son who will inherit Aelfleah. Even if he does not look like me, you will know he is mine, and if you do not want to lose her, you must accept my bastard for her sake.” He laughed again, and it was an eerie and high-pitched sound that came forth from him. “I do not care if you kill me, for without Mairin I have nothing for which to live, but I shall not really die, shall I? I will live to haunt you in my son.
“Shall I tell you how your wife writhed and moaned beneath my cock? How she begged me not to stop? How she begged for more, and how her sharp claws spurred me onward to satisfy her as you have obviously never satisfied her? She is a glorious fuck with that white skin and that flamered hair of hers. I cannot remember ever having enjoyed a woman more. Shall I tell you what she said to me after I first took her?”
Dagda’s big fist shot out, and Eric Longsword crumbled into a heap at Josselin’s feet. Josselin did not think he could move, and even Angus Leslie was stunned by the viciousness of Eric Longsword’s words.
Finally, after what seemed like a very long time, the laird of Glenkirk said, “The man is totally mad, ye know. His words are cruel, but ye must nae believe him.”
“Would you if Mairin were your wife?” asked Josselin.
“If Mairin were my wife, I would trust the lass if she told me nay. Yer a lucky man, my lord de Combourg.”
“We are speaking about my wife, and the possibility that she carries a son. Is he my heir? Or is he not?” Josselin said stiffly.
Angus Leslie nodded slowly. “Aye, ’tis hard,” he said, “but ye’ll have to make peace wi’ yerself for her sake, and there is always the chance ’twill be a lass.”
“Are you enamored of my wife, Angus Leslie?”
The laird grinned his quick grin. “I might have been, but that she would nae let me be. Instead she turned my mind and heart to the bonniest maiden I could have ever dared to aspire to, the queen’s younger sister. We are to be wed, and I hope both ye and Mairin will be here still to share in our happiness.”
It was Angus Leslie who then brought Josselin de Combourg to meet Malcolm Ceann Mor. The king welcomed his guest, and having seen the parchment upon which the marriage between Josselin de Combourg and Mairin of Aelfleah was recorded with the seals of both King William and Odo, the bishop of Bayeux, the Scots king ruled that Mairin of Aelfleah be returned to her lawful husband.
“What would ye do about Eric Longsword, my lord?” he asked Josselin.
“I would meet him in armed combat,” was the reply.
“Death to the loser?”
“Aye, my lord king. No quarter to be given.”
“I understand that yer honor must be served, my lord de Combourg, but what if ye should lose? Yer wife would be helpless to the villain, and yer children fatherless. I am willing to see this man, who by law is my liegeman, punished for what he has done.”
Josselin shook his head. “The right is mine, my lord king. I cannot rest until I have revenged myself and my innocent wife upon this man. I will not lose the battle. God is on my side.”
The king nodded, understanding Josselin’s viewpoint. Had he been in this knight’s boots, he would have wanted it the same way. “I will see Eric Longsword is imprisoned until the day ye meet him upon the field of honor, my lord de Combourg. That day, however, must be postponed for the time being. Today I have become the father of a fine son, and I will allow nothing to mar the celebrations surrounding my son’s birth. Shortly my wife’s sister will be wed, and nothing must spoil her happy time either. After Christina’s wedding we will arrange the tourney in which ye may avenge yer family’s honor upon the field of battle with Eric Longsword. Are ye content to wait until then, my lord de Combourg?”
Josselin nodded.
“Good!” said Malcolm Ceann Mor. “Then until that time, ye and yer beautiful wife will be my guests. Welcome to Scotland, my lord de Combourg! Welcome to Scotland!”
Chapter 16
TWO small private rooms had been found to shelter the newly reunited couple within the king’s house on Edinburgh Rock. It was here that Angus Leslie led Josselin after his interview with the king. For a long minute after his guide had left him, Josselin stood outside of the unadorned wooden door. Then suddenly, before he might regret his actions, Josselin put his hand to the handle of the door, and turning it, walked into the room to find it empty.
Surprised, he looked about him. It was an inside chamber in which he found himself, and there were but three pieces of furniture within it. A small rectangular oak table, and two straight-backed chairs. He moved across the little room, opening the door on its far wall to enter into a second chamber which had a window, a corner fireplace, and a large bed which took up most of the chamber. It was here he found his wife standing by the open window gazing out over the city below.
“We must remain here in Edinburgh for the present,” he said awkwardly by way of greeting.
“Why?” she demanded, her back still to him. “I want to go home to Aelfleah before it is impossible for me to travel. I miss my mother, and Maude has not seen me in almost half a year.”
“Eric Longsword must be punished for what he has done, and I must be the instrument of that punishment.”
“Cannot King Malcolm see to it?” Her voice lacked warmth.
“He could if I would let him, which I will not. Eric Longsword has compromised my honor, and it is my right to meet him in a trial by combat.”
“What about my honor?” she demanded.
“It is our honor I fight for, Mairin.”
“Nay I think not, my lord. You will fight with Eric Longsword and you will kill him, but not for the love you bear me or because you are outraged by the abuse that man has done me. You will fight with him, and you will kill him because you believe he has raped me and put his child in my womb. A child whom you must acknowledge. A son who will be your heir. You do not fight for me, Josselin. You fight for your own sense of outrage, but I tell you now, once and for all, that you are wrong.” It was then that she turned to face him, and he saw an anger in her eyes that she sought desperately to keep under control.
Anger? Why should she feel anger toward him? Was he not the injured party? “This is the second time that you have sworn to me the child you carry is not the child of Eric Longsword, Mairin. I love you, enchantress, and I want to believe you, but how can I?” he asked her and his tone was desperate.
“Why do you accept his word over mine, Josselin? Is it because he is a man, and therefore more trustworthy? I am your wife, and when have I ever lied to you? Eric Longsword beat me, and he used me with his hands, and his mouth, but I do not believe he is capable of having a woman in the normal sense. He did not rape me. I shall be even more direct, my lord. He did not once penetrate my body with his cock, nor did he ever loose his seed into me. I can be no clearer than that, Josselin. The child that’s growing within my womb was conceived by us in York. If that child is as I believe, a son, and you refuse to accept him, I shall appeal to both the church and to the king. I will say nothing more upon the matter, nor will I ever defend myself to you again.”
He was stunned by her coldness, and he could see how very angry she was at him. His first instinct was to be angry back, but some tiny sane voice within him warned him that if he were it would be the end between them. He did not want that, and he believed that she did not want it either. In his mind he could hear Dagda cautioning him. It suddenly occurred to him that though they had been separated for five months, not once in all that time had he been under threat of death or any other serious danger. She had, and her fears had not only been for herself, but for her unborn child as well. One of them had to be the
first to yield in this terrible situation, and he could see it was not going to be Mairin. He was capable of being just as stubborn, but if he were, then the breach between them would only widen. Josselin realized, if he wanted his wife back, that he would have to be the one to make the first move. It was he who would have to swallow his pride, for hers was every bit as large as his, and she had been driven to the breaking point by now.
“Help me, Mairin,” he said softly to her. “It is hard for me also.”
“I cannot make you believe me, Josselin,” she answered him, but her voice was a tiny bit less rigid.
“I do not understand how you could have escaped ravishment by him.”
“At first,” she explained, “I was terrified. He made it quite plain what he intended doing. As we rode through the storm that first day, he guided his horse with one hand, while fondling my breasts with the other. I was so ashamed, and yet I did not want to die. I wanted to live to get home to Aelfleah to you and little Maude. I thought surely you would find me before nightfall, but you never came.”
“I did not know where to look,” he said, “and the snow covered your tracks, though I would not have known whose tracks they were even if I had found them.”
She nodded. “I know that now, but then I had such hope and faith in you, my lord.” Quietly Mairin went on to tell him of her trek through the winter weather with her captor. Of how they had met with the others, and sheltered that first night at the abandoned farm. Of how she had learned then that they were heading for Scotland. As she told him her tale, he felt himself torn, for she had been correct when she had said he had no right to doubt her. Yet within him was that element of doubt that tortured him unbearably, particularly in light of Eric Longsword’s brutal words. She seemed to be hiding nothing from him, for she was most graphic in the telling of her plight, but she still insisted that Eric Longsword had not raped her.
When she finally finished with her narrative, she looked with questioning eyes upon him, and he knew what he must do if he was to retain the love and respect of his beloved enchantress. “I believe you, Mairin,” he said. “I truly do!”
“And you accept the child that I carry as your own true child?” she demanded further of his patience.
“Aye,” he said without hesitation, and to his great surprise she burst into tears, and threw herself into his startled embrace. Instinctively, his arms closed about her, and feeling her familiar warmth against him, the softness of her glorious hair against his cheek once more, he felt all his serious doubts temporarily melt away. “Ahh, enchantress, you must not weep. We are together again, and I will never allow you to be parted from me again,” he vowed lavishly, and then he stroked her head in an effort to comfort her.
“I was so afraid,” she whispered, “but I was more afraid of showing him my fear, for I knew if I did, I should be lost, Josselin. I did not want to be lost from you forever.”
It was those half-sobbed words that made him realize how very brave she really had been. “If you should desire it, I will send you home now while you can still travel in relative comfort. The child should be born at Aelfleah.”
She shook her head in the negative. “Nay. It matters not where our son is born, any more than it matters where he was conceived. I want to be avenged upon Eric Longsword also. I want to see you kill him. I would kill him myself if I could!”
“King Malcolm will not arrange the trial by combat until after the celebrations for Prince Edward’s birth and the celebration of his sister-in-law’s marriage are completed. It is almost June. The child you have said is due by Michaelmas. It may be August before this matter can be concluded.”
“All the more reason for me to stay, my lord. Have we not been separated enough these last months?”
“At least Eric Longsword will not bother us further,” he told her. “The king has ordered him imprisoned until we meet in combat.”
“Why now?” she asked. “He has been free to slander me with his words and his lies since we arrived here.”
“He claimed marriage with you, Mairin, and a husband’s rights. You denied it, causing doubt. The matter is now settled, for I brought with me the proof of our lawful union. That is why the king has ordered the villain caged.”
“Good!” she said in such a positive tone that he could not help but laugh.
“I almost feel sorry for the man,” he said.
“That is because you have me back,” she noted smugly, and he laughed again.
“Aye,” he answered her, and felt, much to his own surprise, a sudden stirring in the region of his loins. “I have you back, enchantress mine. Now what shall I do with you?” There was no doubt in his mind of his need to possess her, to reaffirm the marriage bond between them.
She smiled at him seductively. Much more seductively, it seemed to him, than he remembered. “You have traveled far, my lord,” she said. “Undoubtedly you are greatly in need of both a hot bath and a warm bed. I shall see to both immediately,” and she did.
With quiet efficiency, she went about the business of ordering the king’s servants to bring a large oak tub for the king’s guest. A line of sturdy serving men hurried to and fro from the antechamber of the tiny apartment, bringing buckets of water, enough to fill the tub, and a serving wench came from the queen bearing a small cake of soap with which to bathe Josselin. When they had all gone, and Josselin had stripped off his clothing to settle himself comfortably in the tub, Mairin came in nothing but her camise to wash him as was her wifely duty.
Kneeling over the tub she took up the soap, and dipping it first in the hot water, smoothed it slowly in a circular motion over his broad chest. Neither of them spoke. Her hands moved up over his shoulders and his neck, washing first, rinsing afterward. Then she turned her attentions to his long back, her gentle hands sweeping up the length of it, rubbing, rubbing, the soap feeling like silk against his masculine skin. She swept down to the very base of his spine, causing him to shift as she transferred her busy hands to his buttocks.
Her own skin was flushed rosy by the steam that swirled up from the water, and the dampness had fused the fabric of her camise to her breasts. Her nipples were very prominent, and his male organ, titillated by their sight, now thrust up through the water of the bath. A small smile played about the corners of her mouth, but she remained silent as she slipped the soap over the muscles of his hard belly, moving down to cup his pouch as she made a play at washing it.
“You will not forget my feet?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Nay, my lord, I will wash your feet,” she said, and thrusting both hands into the tub, manipulated the soap over first one of his legs, beginning with the thigh, and working down his calf to his feet where she pushed a finger slowly and suggestively through each of the separations between his toes, and then she did his other leg.
He was prepared to leap from the tub, but before he might, she was roughly washing his thick and tawny hair with almost gleeful vigor, scrubbing at his scalp with a vengeance that caused him to yelp with protest. “Lady, have mercy! That is my poor head you are attacking!”
“I am aware of all your body parts, my lord, including this rude fellow”—she gave his pulsing manhood a teasing squeeze—“who so boldly stares at me!” Then she dumped a bucket of clean warm water that stood by the side of the tub over his head, following it with a second bucket, this time of cold water. “There,” she said, satisfied, “you are fit for human company once again, Josselin de Combourg!” and Mairin stepped back from the tub.
With a grin he stood, shaking the excess water from his long body, taking the rough cloth she handed him to dry off his head and his skin. The anteroom was chilly, but when he again reentered the bedchamber, he found she had closed the wooden shutters upon the single window that lit the room, and a small fire burned within the tiny corner fireplace. For a moment he did not see her, and then as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he found her comfortably settled upon the big bed, nude.
“Now, my lo
rd, having done my wifely duty by seeing to your cleanliness, I will now attend to your other needs if you would have me do so.”
He let his eyes travel over her in leisurely fashion. The child to be born in a few months’ time had already rounded her belly pleasantly. For some reason she looked lusher to his eye than he could seem to remember her. She was infinitely tempting, and even the faint doubt niggling deep within his mind could not deter his desire for her.
Leaning upon an elbow, Mairin looked up at him. The bucket of cold water that she had dumped over him had certainly not dampened his desire for her. His manhood thrust straight out from his body. Her violet eyes twinkled as she fastened her gaze upon it, and then looked up to meet his smoldering glance. “Not even some willing serf wench, my lord?” she teased him.
“Nay, enchantress,” he said softly, and lowered himself to the bed beside her. Their lips met in a tender kiss, and then another and another. Gently he pressed her back into the bed, kissing soft kisses upon her cheekbones, her eyelids, along the side of her face to the shadowed hollow beneath her earlobe which he then nibbled.
Mairin felt herself relaxing for the first time in months. It was as if they had never been parted, and she sighed with pleasured contentment. Reaching up she stroked the back of his neck with her hand.
“There is no one for me but you, enchantress,” he whispered in her ear. His lips traveled along the line of her shoulder, and then moved on to her beautiful breasts which in her pregnancy were extremely sensitive. He kissed their rigid little nipples, and then he began to lick each one in its turn. His tongue seemed almost hard, and as it lapped at her tender flesh, his hands caressed her body, kneading at a breast, smoothing over her torso. He turned her against him so that her bottom pressed against his manhood, and for several long sweet minutes he simply fondled her breasts. Then he gently enclosed her belly within his two hands and, to his surprise, he felt the faint, fluttering movement of the child.
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