‘Wine, wife?’ His voice was so harsh, she flinched.
Someone—Louise or Edwige—had put a flagon and a couple of clay cups on the wall shelf. The bed linens were fresh and fragrant with lavender and little Fritha’s marigold posy lay in the centre of the bed. Hugh shifted it to one side.
‘No, thank you.’
During the celebration, nerves had got the better of her. Unable to make her peace with Hugh in public, Aude hadn’t been able to eat much, and she had perhaps drunk a little more than she ought. There hadn’t been a moment to question her brother either, but she was certain the two of them were in collusion. Most likely they had been working together long before Jumièges, when Edouard had for bid den her to speak to Hugh. Their lack of trust in her was galling, to say the least. She ought to have this out with him…
Hugh was reaching down a lantern and blowing it out. When he stretched, the mattress rustled. The borrowed red tunic was fractionally tight on him, which made it seem as though he was showing off his wide shoulders, though Aude knew he was not. Hugh was simply larger than her brother and most of his own clothes had been left behind in Château Freyncourt. Strong muscles flexed beneath the fine broad cloth.
Watching him through lowered lashes, Aude swallowed. She could well remember what his naked chest looked like—the image of him tossing her baggage off that river barge in Jumièges was vivid in her memory. She had married the most handsome of men, and tonight his body was devastatingly attractive. There had always been a dangerous edge to Hugh; oddly, knowing that he might resent their marriage did not put her off. The opposite, rather. A nervous excitement gripped her.
It was astonishing to think that tonight, he was hers. Except—she must remember, Hugh was full of anger, and she was full of questions…
It was likely that the talking and laughing out in the hall would go on for some time. The boards were still up and Gil was the only one to have taken to his pallet. There was a dull thud as the main door slammed. The bed curtain shifted in the draught and someone let out a cheer.
‘They must be bringing in more food,’ Aude murmured.
‘Or ale.’
Hugh stretched out his legs. Aude made herself focus on his cross-gartering, rather than those strong thighs. He had not removed his boots, but she was too shy to mention it. Another worry surfaced.
‘Hugh, do you think it will amuse them to disturb us?’
‘Not likely, the people don’t know us well enough and…’ his mouth twisted ‘…I had a word with Edouard. No one will bother us.’
Aude’s cheeks scorched and she tore her gaze from his. She twined her hands together; this was probably as good a moment as any to discover what her brother and Hugh were up to. ‘Hugh?’
‘Mmm?’ She almost jumped out of her skin when he covered her hands with one of his. It was some thing he had done many times before, but tonight, with the priest’s blessing ringing in her ears and merriment from their wedding feast floating past the embroidered curtain, the gesture seemed laden with meaning. They were man and wife. Hugh had not even removed his boots, but there was a determined set to his jaw. Angry or not, she did not doubt that by tomorrow morning, she would no longer be a virgin.
His thumb moved slowly across the back of her knuckles. The starry tingles burst into being. Aude’s questions froze on her tongue, Hugh’s anger was for gotten. Indeed, at this moment he did not look the slightest bit angry. His eyes were dark in the light of the remaining lantern, his face was in shadow. Their silhouettes were splashed across the folds of the curtain at the foot of the bed, blurry and grey. Hugh’s was the larger one, hers the smaller—they were very close together.
Soon to be closer, in mind as well as in body? Aude could not say, but perhaps she had grounds for hope. In her life she had faced many rejections—Martin had loved Sir Jean; Count Richard had chosen to marry Emma of Fulford; but Hugh…
She blinked at him.
‘Aude, what is it?’
Hugh might not be thrilled by their marriage, but he had not rejected her. It was possible that hope was not entirely misplaced…
She swallowed. ‘Hugh, you and Edouard—’
‘Forget about Edouard.’ Hugh released her hand—he was frowning at her belt, at her circlet and veil. ‘Too many clothes,’ he said.
Aude felt a distinct flutter in her belly. Slowly, as though he under stood her nervousness and was determined not to startle her, Hugh lifted her circlet from her head and reached across her to put it on the ledge. His arm brushed her breast even as warm lips nudged the silk veil aside. He kissed her cheek.
Smiling, he slid the veil from her hair and it vanished some where behind them. Long fingers lingered on her belt. ‘This is pretty.’
‘I…yes. It was a gift from one of my…our tenants.’
‘You have won them over, they like you.’
‘They like you too. There is bound to be some bad feeling against Normans but on the whole—’ Aude bit off the words. She was babbling like a fool, not that Hugh seemed to mind.
He was leaning close, pressing more kisses on her cheek and all the while his fingers were busy in her hair, loosening it, spreading it out over her shoulders. ‘I love the way it catches the light,’ he murmured.
His expression was sharply focused, entirely on her, and some thing about it pushed the fears and worries to the back of her mind. So what if Edouard and Hugh had conspired together? So what if there were matters they were keeping from her? Hugh’s resentment was a concern, to be sure, but he had backed her up when she had claimed him as her husband, he had not rejected her. This evening all that mattered was that he was gazing at her in that shockingly lustful way that never failed to melt her limbs. Heat centred in her belly. This was her wedding night and she was going to enjoy it! The questions, the recriminations—they could come later.
He breathed her name. ‘Aude.’
Conscious of everyone on the other side of the curtain, Aude fought back a moan. She wasn’t afraid, not of Hugh. It wasn’t only lust she was reading in his expression. True, those stormy eyes had gone almost black, but there was softness there too, the familiar warmth.
And love? Was love to be found in Hugh’s expression? An ache made itself felt in the centre of her chest—that was a question she could not answer. In any case, Hugh was leaning over her and one of those disorderly locks of sun-bleached hair had fallen out of place. Reaching up, she smoothed it back.
Afterwards, there would surely be time for talking.
Blue skirts whispered as he tugged them up. A hand found her thigh and began to caress her. So many starry tingles, low in her belly. Aude sank her fingers into his hair and brought their mouths together.
He nibbled at her lip, she played with his. His other hand stroked upwards and under her loosened gown, it closed over a breast.
Moaning, she tugged at his belt. ‘You, too,’ she said, arching into his caress. ‘I want to touch you. I want to…admire you.’
‘You want to admire me?’ His colour deepened. How endearing to think that, with all his experience, she had the power to embarrass him.
He cleared his throat, hands going to his belt to unfasten it. He dropped the belt to one side and whipped off his tunic and under shirt. ‘I don’t think anyone has ever wanted to admire me before.’
Aude reached for his chest. It was beautifully sculpted, each muscle delineated by years of knightly training and exercise. Her fingers began to explore the fascinating mix of hard muscle and soft skin that was Hugh.
He bit his lip. His eyes had never been so dark. He was looking at her as though he would devour her. She loved it, she loved him.
The words were hovering on the tip of her tongue. Her heart squeezed. His hair was going its own wild way; his pupils were dark and that hint of colour on his cheek bones told of control, but barely held in check, of vulnerability. And she was the cause. She, Aude de Crèvecoeur, rendered him vulnerable. Not saying the words I love you just then was one of the hardest th
ings Aude had ever done.
A burst of laughter erupted from the benches. Biting her lip, Aude glanced at the bed curtain.
‘It is alright, Brat, no one will disturb us.’ His voice was husky.
‘I hope you are right.’
Hugh was in a state of shock if Aude but knew it, but he would die before confessing it. Gently, he eased her gown up and over her head. A flimsy under gown followed. Aude made no resistance. In truth, she wriggled to help him. That done, she sat up again and in the most matter-of-fact way, seemingly oblivious of the effect her slender limbs were having on him, gestured at his boots.
Hugh’s blood rushed to his groin and together they wrestled his boots off and unwound his cross-gartering. She did most of it—the sight of her slender white body had turned his fingers into thumbs.
Shock had held him the entire day, from the moment Aude had—in a piece of extreme folly, given the dangers—claimed him as her husband. Bad enough that she had run the risk of being caught with Count Hugh de Freyncourt within these walls…but to have declared that she had married him. Lord.
This marriage was damned inconvenient, but Hugh had accepted Aude at her word because he had always been fond of her. Her life had been far from easy, but at last she had Alfold. How could he have made a liar of her in front of her own people? There was no getting away from it—from the moment they had been found in bed together, their fate had been sealed. They must make the best of it.
Tonight, that did not seem a hardship. Aude’s hair was a disordered cloud about her head, her limbs were creamy against the bed clothes. Naked, Aude was slender and delicate. Merely to look at her was to be tantalised by her. Hugh took her by the waist and gently brought her against him. Naked she appeared more fragile than her personality would allow.
Her arms wound round him, and her hands were sliding into his chausses, her fingers pressing into his buttock muscles, holding him to her. ‘Nothing remotely fragile about that,’ he muttered before he could stop himself. Her hair hung down her back like fire, tickling the back of his hands. He throbbed and ached where she pressed against him.
‘Hmm?’
Hugh shoved down his chausses and braies, and fell onto the mattress with her. A couple of freckles on her breast caught his eye. ‘I like your freckles,’ he said, kissing them. The scent of musk and summer flowers filled his mind. He drew back and looked at her breasts. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured.
Aude smiled and shifted against him and Hugh’s sense of shock began to fade. This was Aude. His wife. Never mind that they should never have married, never mind that he ought not to touch her.
‘Little Brat, who would have thought it?’
‘Mmm?’
His fingers were wandering down her thigh. ‘Irresistible,’ he muttered, watching her face. Her eyes had closed. He watched as a look of pleasure stole over her face—it took the breath from his lungs. He throbbed for her, he burned.
‘Aude, my love.’ His un guarded use of an endearment he had never used with anyone checked him. His love? He was fond of her, certainly, but…love?
What he was feeling for her was desire, pure and simple. He had felt it before, it would soon pass.
She was moving sinuously against his hand. Her legs opened at his lightest touch. Gently, he eased a finger inside her. At the same moment a small hand wrapped round him. When she gave him an experimental squeeze, he jolted and bit back a groan. She was bringing him to her, positioning him…
‘Wait, my love, wait,’ he managed. ‘You are a virgin, you are not ready, I can’t just…just…’
His mind froze.
His body knew better. With one of Aude’s hands pushing him to her, and the other tight about her neck—she was kissing his cheek, his nose, his mouth… Hugh let his body take over. He pushed.
She gasped as the warmth of her body tightened around him. Holding himself up on his elbows, he looked deep into amber eyes. She sighed and relaxed.
‘Hugh.’
That was it, just his name. And then those sinuous movements started again and he must push, push, push into her and she was writhing under him and those imaginings he had had of Aude in his bed were as nothing. They had not conjured the heat of her, nor the heady scent of aroused woman, of Aude. His dreams had not told him how his guts would clench at the sight of a wild strand of copper hair trailing around his wrist. Nor had they conveyed exactly how the delicate perfection of her body would feel as she moved under him, as they found their rhythm together.
Aude was here in bed with him, this was their wedding night and the world, for once, was Heaven.
He eased back, smiling, wanting to convey some thing of what he felt. She clutched him to her and whimpered. On one elbow, he slid his hand between them. ‘Have faith, my impatient love,’ he said.
And then they were moving again, and he was playing with her in between pushes. Push, play, push, play.
He was watching her the moment the pleasure took her. Her breath stopped, her eyes closed, and under his fingers he felt the tremor of tiny pulses. One more push and the pleasure rushed at him, swallowing him so completely that there was no more Hugh and no more Aude, just one being, wrapped in bliss.
They had made love and it had been beautiful.
Hugh rolled on to his back and Aude snuggled into him with a sigh. Her eyes were half-closed and she was conscious of his gaze on her. She felt the moment he reached over to put out the remaining lantern.
Darkness fell over them like a soft cloak. There was just the faintest shimmer of light edging around the bed-curtain, the mutterings and mumbles from the hall seemed a million miles away.
Sleep was stealing over her when Aude remembered her questions.
‘Hugh?’
‘Mmm?’ An eyelid opened, he caressed her cheek. Pushing a strand of hair out of her face, he twined it round his finger, released it, and watched it spring back into its natural curl.
‘When you first came to Alfold you were hoping to find Edouard here, were you not?’
His face closed.
‘Hugh, Edouard came here on your business, I am sure of it…’
‘Aude, we can discuss this later.’ He gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘We should sleep.’
‘I ask because I—’ she choked back the words I love you just in time ‘—I want to help.’
‘You have already done more than you should, with Gil and Louise.’
‘It seems little enough. I want to help you as in the same way that I suspect Edouard has been helping you. I want to see you restored to your rightful place.’ Frowning, she clenched her fist on his chest. ‘I know you and Edouard are planning some thing. Why won’t you tell me what it is—don’t you trust me?’
‘Trust is not the issue.’
‘Isn’t it?’
A large hand rested gently on the back of her head. His smile was sad. ‘Aude, know that I care for you, know that I do not want you to be involved—’
‘Not involved? We were married today!’
How was it, Aude thought with some thing approaching desperation, that a few moments ago they had been united in the most delightful, satisfying way that a man and a woman could be united, and already they were quarrelling?
She gripped his shoulder. ‘Please, Hugh, I know you and Edouard are allies. Won’t you tell me what’s going on?’
His fingers slid round to her jaw, his breath stirred her hair.
‘Since you insist, I will tell you this. Edouard and I are going to Winchester tomorrow.’
Goosebumps stole over her skin. ‘You are going to see the Abbot of New Minster?’
He nodded.
‘Isn’t that dangerous?’
‘We will be circumspect. I am not about to trumpet my identity until we know it is safe for me to do so. I shall be Hugh of Jumièges—’ with a grin he hugged her to him ‘—or Hugh of Alfold until my innocence is proved.’
‘But, Hugh…’ Aude’s voice was high, she moderated it ‘…last time you went to Winchester, m
en from the garrison set a pack of dogs on you! And Gil…’ She chewed her lip. ‘Lord, Hugh, how can you be sure that won’t happen again?’
Pressing her closer, he kissed her forehead, and let his hand slide lower. His fingers curled possessively round her breast. ‘We are going, Brat, so you can lose that scowl.’
His fingers moved suggestively over her skin, and immediately Aude’s mind began to cloud and she became aware of that slow heat building at her core.
Hugh shifted, a strong leg hooked over hers, he leaned up on an elbow.
‘Aude, kiss me.’ His eyes were dark and compelling, his mouth tender.
‘Didn’t you say we should sleep?’
He grinned and bent to whisper in her ear. ‘I think I have found my second wind.’
He was trying to distract her and he was succeeding; the goose bumps had gone. Aude felt herself blush. ‘It is possible then, twice?’ Her heart began to thud.
‘Indeed it is, my innocent. And that question tells me that you are in need of a small demonstration…’
His teeth closed softly over her ear. He nuzzled her neck, head moving inexorably to her breast. His fingers were ahead of him, stroking her hips, setting off those starry tingles as he parted her thighs.
‘Hugh…’ her voice was little more than a breath ‘…oh, yes, Hugh.’
‘My love.’ His voice was full of satisfaction.
Grasping at the last shreds of reason, Aude buried both hands in his hair, tugging at it, forcing him to meet her eyes.
‘If you and Edouard are going to Winchester in the morning, I am going with you.’
Hugh gave an inarticulate murmur and his lips returned to her breast. Desire coiled within her. Aude ached for him, she wanted nothing more than to surrender to the pleasure of his touch. It wasn’t easy, but somehow she found words.
Wessex Weddings 05 - Her Banished Lord Page 18