by Alexa Aston
Raising her head, her gaze met his. “Do you like that?”
He grinned. “You know I do.”
“I do, too,” she admitted and returned her mouth to his belly. Margery licked her way across it, the muscles leaping to life, and then she slowly blazed a path back to his mouth.
Ancel’s body was on fire. He grasped her waist again as she kissed him, holding her in place in order to keep himself in check.
And then her hands tugged on his pants, pulling them down until she freed his cock. Her hand grazed against it, causing him to squeeze her waist. Her fingers locked around it as she continued to plunder his mouth. Slowly, she began moving her hand back and forth. He groaned deeply.
“Does this feel good?” she murmured against his lips.
He nodded.
“And this?” Her hand increased in speed.
He moaned.
“Now?” she teased, pulling and pushing and squeezing until all rational thought left Ancel. All he knew was the touch of her hand pleasuring him as her kiss captivated him.
The pressure built within him as her loving fingers and tongue worked their magic. He released his hold on her, his hands searching the bed and finding his gypon. Ancel slipped it between them as he climaxed and hoarsely cried out, her hand still warm against his heated shafted as he spilled his seed in the bunched gypon.
Slowly, Margery’s shining face came back into view, flushed with excitement, her lips swollen from their many kisses.
“Did I please you?” she asked eagerly.
Ancel tossed the gypon to the ground. “More than you could know.”
She sighed contentedly and bent to brush her lips against his. He kissed her softly and pulled her down against him, her head resting against his beating heart. Rolling to his side, he cradled her tenderly. Almost immediately, he heard the even breaths of sleep coming from her.
Ancel listened to her breathing, enjoying her warmth against him. He looked forward to a lifetime with this woman, the only woman for him. He would have what his parents shared. What he’d witnessed with Alys and Kit. Love for Margery filled his heart. Their separation would only make it grow stronger, for Ancel couldn’t imagine feeling this way about anyone other than Margery.
He dozed for a bit and then awoke, knowing he must now leave her. His lips brushed against her hair as he slipped from her embrace and the bed. Ancel refused to awaken her. He didn’t wish for a tearful goodbye. Looking at her angelic face as she dreamt the night away was how he wanted to remember her in the coming days and weeks until he returned.
Opening the bedchamber door, Whitefoot appeared in the doorway, his tail wagging merrily. He picked up the puppy and took him to the bed. Placing the dog on the mattress, Whitefoot quickly curled up against his mistress and closed his eyes.
“Take care of her,” Ancel whispered to the dog before he left the bedchamber.
He’d left his armor in the bedchamber her stepbrothers had shared and went there now to don it. It took him longer than usual and he wished that Will Artus was present to help him. The squire should return soon, hopefully with a new steward in hand. Ancel had done everything to keep Highfield running during the absence of one but now it was time to depart.
Returning to the stables, he prepared Storm for their ride back to London. He rode through the gates and turned west at a gallop, seeing no one until he drew near the city. Dawn would break soon. As he approached its gates, a group of soldiers poured through them, headed his way. Ancel recognized Sir Terryn Althilos at the front. Ancel signaled his fellow guardsman and rode toward him.
“Is this part of the king’s army?” he asked.
“Nay,” Terryn told him. “We are two dozen men sent by the king to Highfield while you are gone.” The knight paused. “I am to assume command until your return.” Terryn smiled broadly. “I look forward to being in charge of the soldiers—and getting to know Lady Margery, of course.”
Ancel refrained from ripping his friend’s heart out.
Just barely.
Chapter 16
Four months later . . .
Margery awoke in the darkened chamber. The curtains pulled around the bed kept out some of the cold of the mid-November day. She closed her eyes again, sensing it was still too early to dress.
And closing her eyes, she could relive the brief time she had lain next to Ancel in this very bed.
Every day, her heart ached at their separation. The two months he should have been gone had dragged into more than double that. She remained busy during the day but the nights saw loneliness creep inside. With each day Ancel was gone, it caused her another day of worry. Was he safe? Would he return? Did he still love her as much as she loved him?
Life had run smoothly at Highfield during his absence. The morning after his departure, she awakened to learn that the king’s extra soldiers had already been received. The royal guardsman who had first summoned Ancel to the king’s presence had accompanied the group. King Richard had placed Sir Terryn Althilos in control at Highfield. Though the knight leaned on Sir Folcard for some things, he obviously enjoyed being in a position of power.
Moreover, he had flirted outrageously with Margery those first few days. She hadn’t known that’s what the knight was doing until Sarah clued her in. Margery only knew his suggestive looks and play on words made her uncomfortable. Once Sarah set her straight, she had requested a private meeting with Sir Terryn—and informed him to act like the knight he was pledged to be.
“Do your duty to your king and Highfield,” she requested. “And know that King Richard has offered Highfield’s land and title to Sir Ancel if my stepbrother does not return. That also includes my becoming Sir Ancel’s bride.”
Sir Terryn had grown serious about his assignment after she informed him of that—and been nothing but a gentleman ever since. He had alternated the soldiers in the training yard so that some went through exercises while others helped build the extension to the barracks and others guarded the estate and patrolled the roads beyond.
Margery enjoyed her meetings with Clifton Walters, the new steward who had trained at Kinwick. Will Artus had returned with Clifton and a missive for Sir Ancel from his parents. Informing the two men where Ancel now was, Clifton urged her to read it and act accordingly since she was Lady of Highfield now. When Margery admitted to the steward that she could not read because her stepfather expressly forbade her learning how to do so, Clifton had waved aside that notion and said he would teach her himself.
She proved to be a good student and, with Clifton’s help, Margery had been able to read the four missives Ancel had sent to her during his absence, thanks to the hours she had labored over her letters. They had all been brief and she assumed Ancel had little time to pen missives to her. But one had come to Highfield for each month he was gone.
He’d apologized profusely when he told her he couldn’t break away as soon as he wanted. The king’s army had traveled as far north as York and then to the west country, suppressing small pockets of rebellion along the way. Ancel’s last message to her said that many of the rebel leaders had been rounded up. Over fifteen hundred had been executed or killed in battles that had been fought. That let her know how serious the situation was and why the king had insisted that Ancel remain with his army.
Finally, Margery pushed herself from the bed and dressed quickly, enjoying how she now had clothes that made her feel feminine, thanks to Ancel’s thoughtfulness regarding her wardrobe. Today was an important one—the marriage of Sarah to Harry Bacon—and she wanted everything to be perfect for her friend.
Mass had been delayed this morning since everyone would attend the nuptial mass later in the day. She went first to the kitchens, where Maud already labored over food for her daughter’s wedding feast. Sarah, Agatha, and two other servants Margery had hired from Kirkby were hard at work as Maud barked orders to them. She joined in and helped ready the small morning meal, getting it out to the tables of hungry soldiers and serfs who’d gathered.
Sir Terryn approached her. “Is the wedding still at noon, my lady?”
“Aye. I hope the men not on duty will be allowed to attend the nuptial mass, my lord.”
“They will,” he assured her. “I’ll also let them come to the feast and fill their bellies before they trade off and allow their fellow soldiers to do the same.”
Margery signaled Giles over. The man had proven to be a valuable leader in getting both the hay and wheat harvests in on time. When Ancel failed to return, Giles had taken on the responsibility of seeing that the sowing and milling occurred and started the serfs weaving during all of October. Now that they were halfway through November, he supervised the men in butchering, salting, and smoking the meats that would see Highfield through till the springtime.
“Remember, Giles, that today is the wedding,” she reminded him. “The workers only need to work until shortly before noon.”
“Aye, my lady. I’ll see that everyone gathers outside the chapel in time for the wedding.”
“Thank you.”
She returned to the kitchen and ordered Sarah to follow her, motioning to Agatha before she left. Agatha nodded in understanding, privy to what they’d discussed last night.
“Follow me.” Margery led Sarah to the solar, where the bathtub awaited her in the center of the room.
“’Tis your wedding day, my friend. You’re to have a hot bath.”
“Truly?” Sarah’s smile warmed the entire room. “You have already been so generous, my lady, giving me material and having Christine make me something to wear for the ceremony today.”
Margery placed a hand on Sarah’s arm. “You have been my true friend for many years, Sarah. If not for your warning when the rebellion began, I wouldn’t even be alive. You saved me from the death that came for my mother and the others.” Hope fluttered in her heart. Thurstan had yet to return to Highfield. Surely, if he still lived, he would have turned up by now to claim his rights.
Agatha and the others appeared with buckets of hot and cold water then. Margery had them pour a mixture of both into the bathtub as she streamed scented oil into the water. The sweet smell of honeysuckle wafted up.
“Oh, I will smell as you do, my lady!” Sarah said with enthusiasm.
“Harry will be so pleased,” Agatha said. She hugged her sister. “I am so happy for you.”
“Everyone should go now, else Maud will coming looking for you. I’ll tend to Sarah.”
Margery helped wash her friend’s hair and then allowed Sarah to scrub herself while she laid out the cotehardie that the servant would wed in.
“Is there a bath sheet, my lady?” Sarah asked.
She laughed. “Here it is. Let me help dry you.”
Margery dried and then dressed Sarah, stepping back to admire her. “You look lovely.”
“I feel like a queen,” Sarah said.
“Harry will certainly approve.”
Sarah blushed at the mention of her groom. “Oh, Harry is always complimenting me, my lady.”
“You seem happy when you speak of him,” Margery noted.
“I am. Harry is kindhearted and hard-working. He will make a good husband and father.” Sarah giggled. “He’s told me he wants at least half a dozen sons—and a few daughters thrown in along the way.”
“Let’s hope you’re with child by the morning,” Margery declared.
Using her own comb, she ran it through Sarah’s hair until no tangles remained. “Shall I braid it for you?” she asked.
“Aye.”
Margery created two elaborate braids and wound them around Sarah’s head. She then took a circlet that she’d been working on for the last few days and placed it atop her friend’s head. Margery had wound various autumn leaves throughout it and the bright oranges and reds stood out against the girl’s yellow hair.
“I think it’s time, Sarah.”
Margery led Sarah from the room and down the stairs. The great hall stood empty but the enticing smells of the food to come made Margery’s stomach gurgle in anticipation. They made the quick journey across the bailey to the chapel where everyone from Highfield stood, minus the group of soldiers on duty, waiting for the bride so that the ceremony could commence.
As she listened to the vows spoken between Sarah and Harry, Margery again prayed that she and Ancel would be able to do the same once England calmed down.
Father Martyn finished with the ceremony. Before he invited everyone inside to celebrate the nuptial mass, an odd tingling prickled her neck. Her heart began racing.
Ancel had returned.
Margery looked over her shoulder and then turned in circles as the people of Highfield brushed past her to enter the chapel. Disappointment filled her when her search proved fruitless. Turning to follow everyone ahead of her, she found her hand grasped. Warmth flooded her as she glanced up.
Ancel smiled down at her.
“It seems like forever since I have seen your sweet face,” he said, bending to brush his lips against hers.
Margery’s knees buckled. He grabbed her elbow to support her. “Come inside. We’ll talk after the mass ends.” He grinned. “I see Harry Bacon made quick work of wooing Sarah.”
She found her voice. “They are most happy, my lord. Harry is ready to get Sarah with child tonight.”
Ancel chuckled, then his eyes grew heated. “Harry is not the only one who desires a child from the woman he weds.”
Margery remembered what his fingers had done to her and shivered.
He slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. “Come, my love.”
They entered the chapel. Margery did not remember a single word Father Martyn uttered. All she was aware of was Ancel’s shoulder touching hers. His thigh pressed against her own. She glanced down and wished she could wrap her hand around his. Oh, how she had missed this man!
The nuptial mass ended. Sarah and Harry left the chapel first. They spied Ancel and waved as they passed by him. Others noticed the knight had returned and, as they streamed from the building, many came and greeted him. He promised Sir Terryn and Giles Downer that he would meet with each of them for a progress report after the feasting ended.
Spying Clifton Walters, he threw his arms around the steward. “I am pleased that you came, Clifton.”
“Thank you for the opportunity, Sir Ancel. I have enjoyed the short time I’ve been at Highfield.”
“We’ll meet later today—or mayhap tomorrow—in order to catch up about the affairs of this estate. I also want to hear all of the news from Kinwick.”
Clifton chuckled. “The only thing you need to know right away is that Lady Merryn misses you dreadfully. Her last words to me were to convince you to come for a visit once you had the opportunity. ‘I’m counting on you, Clifton,’ she told me. ‘I expect to see my boy at Kinwick sooner rather than later’.”
“That sounds like Mother.” Ancel looked at Margery. “You will love Mother.”
“Everyone adores Lady Merryn,” Clifton confirmed. “And Lord Geoffrey, as well.” He eyed them speculatively. “I will see you later, my lord.”
Finally, they stood alone and began strolling leisurely back to the keep.
“You look lovely,” he told her. “I hope you have enjoyed your new attire.”
“I have. It is so different and beautiful from what I have worn in the past.”
“I’m glad you are happy, Margery. I know I am, now that I have returned. You were in my thoughts day and night.”
It thrilled her to hear his words.
“I must ask, though, about Thurstan,” Ancel said. “Has there been any news of him?”
“None,” Margery confirmed, not bothering to hide her smile.
“Good. I gather you haven’t mentioned to anyone what the king has promised, based upon Clifton eyeing us up and down after I mentioned you meeting Mother.”
“Only Sir Terryn,” she confirmed.
Ancel frowned. “Why him?”
She shrugged, wanting to downplay the knight
’s former attentions to her. She didn’t want to be the cause of trouble between Ancel and his friend. “I thought it appropriate that he know,” she said primly.
He laughed. “Terryn is famous for chasing anyone in a skirt.” He stroked her cheek. “I’ll admit, I was jealous when I found out he would be coming to Highfield in my place.”
“You’ll never have a reason to be jealous, Ancel. I love you. Only you. No other man could ever turn my head. Not even the king of England,” she proclaimed.
They entered the manor house and Ancel told her, “I stopped in London to see the king on my way to Highfield. I needed to give him a report regarding my observations of what had gone on in the field. He is recalling his armed forces. I believe we will stay at peace.”
“What of the king wanting you to come back to London?”
“He told me to take a week’s respite and see that Highfield was in good order. Then I am to return to the royal court—with you accompanying me.”
Her grip tightened on his arm. “He wants to see me?”
“Aye. I’m sure it’s only to confirm that your stepbrother is gone. Mayhap, he’ll draw up the papers to transfer Highfield to me during that time.”
“And then we can wed after that?” she asked, exhilaration filling her.
“I want to wait,” Ancel confided. “I don’t want us to marry in London. If it’s all right with you, I’d prefer the ceremony take place at Kinwick. I have many relatives who would wish to come and meet you. Kinwick is quite large and could accommodate many more guests than Highfield. Unless, of course, you’d rather marry here. After all, it’s been your home for many years.”
“Nay. Let’s journey to Kinwick. I am eager to meet your family and see where you grew up.”
He smiled. “I want you to. Someday, you will be its countess.”