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Mary Gillgannon

Page 26

by The Leopard


  She almost blushed with embarrassment, thinking about it. For every time his body had stiffened and she had felt his hot seed filling her... For every time that he had reached his peak, she had experienced the heights of passion as well.

  Now her body felt almost numb, the muscles in her arms and legs weak from going rigid with the incredible pleasure. Richard had been right. She probably would make a good whore. Even when she was sore and aching, even when she was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, even then she had responded to Richard’s touch. His skillful fingers. His tantalizing mouth. His... cock.

  That was the word he used to refer to it. She knew there were other names. Thinking of that reminded her of him telling all the many terms people used to refer lovemaking. Of all of them, “lovemaking” might be the most inaccurate. Did what she and Richard shared have anything to do with love? She was not at all certain he loved her. Or that he had forgiven her.

  Feeling even colder at that thought, she moved stiffly to the side of the bed and sought to recover her discarded nightgown.

  When she reached the edge, she glanced down and saw the streaks of blood on her thighs. The sight hardly surprised her; in fact, she wondered that there was not more. It still amazed her that Richard had fit inside her. His shaft had seemed huge. She had never imagined her body could stretch to accommodate something so large.

  She closed her eyes, remembering. At first it had hurt, but then the pain gradually dulled. That was early on in the night. Later, as he continued to move and thrust within her, she had transcended the soreness and begun to feel something else—a throbbing hungry need that made her buck and writhe against him. She knew now what men meant by “riding” a woman. His thighs had clenched around her while he drove into her like a horse galloping. Then he had made her wrap her legs around his hips while he rocked and writhed some more.

  She opened her eyes and rubbed her arms. Gingerly, she walked across the floor to where the nightgown lay. She suppressed a moan as she bent to pick it up. Straightening, she slipped the gown over her head, then stood numbly in the center of the lovely bedchamber. She was not sure what she felt. Her emotions felt as wracked and drained as her body. It was too much—to feel such anxiety, such desire, such ecstasy, all in such a short span of time.

  Across the room, Richard stirred and muttered in his sleep. She watched him uneasily. She had no illusions that things were right between them. He might still be angry at her when he woke. In fact, she wondered if his lust did not make him even angrier. She suspected he had intended to avoid giving her any pleasure last night, but he had failed.

  She sighed. What a coil it was. She had never intended to hurt Richard. She loved him. Even his bitter, mocking words had not changed her feelings for him, because she understood his anger. She had trapped him, and like a wild beast imprisoned in a cage, he struggled and raged to gain his freedom. Thinking of it that way made her hurt for him. She wanted to soothe him.

  She approached the bed slowly, watching him. Tears stung her eyes. He was so beautiful, his sprawling legs graceful and lithe, his broad chest so sleek and solid. She wanted to lay her head there, to cuddle beneath his arm, to smell the intoxicating male musk of his skin.

  She glanced at his male parts, and was drawn back to the memory of touching him the night before. His shaft had been hot and silken, and despite its solidity, the skin there was supple and velvety. She had enjoyed exploring the various textures—the harsh, curly hair at the base, the long smooth shaft, the sweetly-soft tip. A smile touched her lips as she gazed at him.

  Then a thought came to her, and her smile faded. He had planted his seed deep within her last night. There had been so much of it, oozing out of her, dripping down her thighs. Surely he had put enough inside her to make a baby grow. Would he love a babe if she had one?

  She forced the thought away and eased herself onto the bed, trying not to wake him. He mumbled and pulled his arm away from his face, exposing the thick, corded muscles in his neck, the curve of his powerful shoulders. She stared at him, admiring the clean, smooth lines of his masculine features. His mouth was slightly open. She wanted to kiss him. They had not kissed last light. She suspected he felt a kiss was too intimate, too tender. He might stroke her and fondle her and put himself deep inside her, but he would not kiss her.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she squeezed her eyes shut tight and leaned over him. She brought her lips to his. His mouth moved beneath hers.

  “Astra.” The word was a soft sigh. He kissed her back for a moment, a mere heartbeat. Then she felt his body stiffen as if he was remembering. She drew away and opened her eyes. He stared at her for a moment. Then his expression grew wary.

  All her doubts returned as he reached over and lifted up the hem of the nightgown, pulling it up to her hips. After touching one of her blood-streaked thighs, he got out of bed and began to dress.

  Astra covered herself with the remaining blankets. She watched as Richard dressed quickly in his rumpled wedding clothes. When he finished, he went to the door and called out for a servant. When older maidservant entered, he pointed to the coverlet on the floor and told her to take it to the King. Then he moved past the servant and left the room.

  The servant retrieved the coverlet and hesitated by the door. “My lady, may I get you anything?’

  “My clothing. The Queen or Lady Marguerite can tell you where my things are.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  The servant left. Astra sighed and sank deeper into the soft bed. As she’d feared, Richard was still angry. All the passion they’d shared had not changed a thing.

  She sighed again and allowed herself to escape into sleep.

  When she woke, she sensed it was late. The room was colder than ever, but she could see it had been tidied. The furniture had been pushed back in place, the candelabras refreshed with tall gleaming candles. Her blue gown and a clean chemise lay across the chair.

  Reluctantly, Astra left the warm bed and washed her face, hands and sticky thighs with the water in the washbasin. Then she slowly dressed.

  She felt uneasy about facing the other women. She was a virgin no longer, and everyone knew it. She couldn’t help feeling embarrassed as she thought of the servant carrying the bloodied evidence to the King.

  After donning her gown, she combed her hair, then braided it neatly and coiled it on top of her head. She fastened it in place under a veil. There was nothing else to do, no excuse to delay. She squared her shoulders and went out the door. She approached the Queen’s private chambers and listened for voices. It was quiet for once, no gossiping murmurs. All eyes turned to her as she entered. Isabel’s face was scornful, but the rest of the women appeared curious.

  “She’s very pale,” one of the younger women whispered.

  “’Tis no wonder,” another woman whispered back. `They say the Leopard is an animal in bed, as well as on the battlefield.”

  A few women giggled, but they stifled almost immediately as the Queen entered.

  “Good morrow, Astra. You look quite refreshed.”

  Astra forced a smile. “I slept well, Your Highness, if very late. I am sorry to be so tardy.”

  “No excuse is necessary. You are a married woman now with a husband to look after. I do not expect you to wait upon me every moment of the day.”

  Astra nodded and went to a chest in the corner to retrieve the embroidery she had been working on before the wedding. She took a seat and examined the half-finished banner. The royal banner featured the device adopted by the Plantagenet kings before Henry III was born and consisted of three gold leopards rampant on a field of scarlet. Astra had begun working on a design featuring a black leopard on a crimson background. Now she wondered if there was any point to finishing the banner. She was not certain Richard would accept it. He might resent her trying to make herself a part of his life.

  A small sigh escaped her. When she looked up, Lady Alyce was regarding her intently. When the Queen got up to go to the nurs
ery, Alyce leaned forward. “What’s wrong, Astra? Did Richard not please you on your wedding night?

  Astra shook her head, not knowing what to say.

  “Astra, ma belle!” Marguerite entered the room with in a swirl of green and rose satin skirts. “I did not expect to find you here. I had imagined you would still be abed.” She winked. “Surely you did not get much sleep last night!”

  Astra smiled, trying to hide her inner turmoil. But Marguerite apparently guessed all was not well. She motioned for Astra to follow her into the hallway.

  “What is it?” Marguerite asked when they were alone. “Is there something wrong between you and Richard?”

  “You know there is. Richard believes I forced him into marriage, and he has not forgiven me.”

  “Has he hurt you? Was he cruel to you during the bedding?”

  Astra looked away. How could she explain what Richard had done to her? She could truly say she had never known such ecstasy, but things were still far from right between them. “It was not like that. He did not hurt me, at least physically.”

  “What of pleasure, Astra? Did he not see fit to pleasure you?”

  “Of course he pleasured me. It’s not Richard’s way to force a woman against her will. He made me want him.”

  “What then?”

  “He’s still wroth with me,” Astra said in a shaky voice. “I wonder if he will ever forgive me.”

  “Oh, that. Give him time, Astra. Eventually, Richard will get over his anger and be as enraptured with you as ever.”

  Astra shook her head. Someone like Marguerite, whose mood changed from moment to moment, would never understand a man like Richard. Beneath his charming, playful exterior, there was a hard, bitter core. It was that aspect of him that worried her.

  “We’d better go back,” she said nervously. “Everyone will gossip if we remain away too long.”

  Their appearance in the ladies’ chamber was greeted with giggles and sly, knowing looks.

  “Are you getting advice from the little bride, Lady Marguerite?” Isabel asked mockingly. “I should imagine that it would be the other way around. The rumors suggest you are already well acquainted with the mysteries of the marital chamber.”

  Marguerite flushed and said nothing. Astra gave her a sharp look. It was not like her friend to let a barb from Isabel pass without a retort. As Marguerite went to the sewing chest and took out a piece of embroidery, Astra’s concern deepened. Marguerite detested needlework and always tried to get out of it. Astra watched her in puzzlement and then turned back to her own work.

  * * *

  Thud! Richard’s lance hit the quintain square in the center of the red target. As the counterweight swung around, he deftly ducked the heavy arm as it whizzed by, missing him by a good margin. He turned his horse and started back for another pass. His body might ache with fatigue, but he must relieve some of the tension burning through him or he would go mad.

  For a moment, his gaze focused on the palace, visible across the training field. He grimaced as he thought of the extravagant bedchamber he had left a few hours before. His wedding night had not gone as planned, not at all. The harder he tried to seek only raw satisfaction from Astra, the more aware he was that she meant much more to him. The crude lust he’d shown her was a lie, a defense to keep her from guessing how deeply she affected him.

  He shook his head, trying to banish thoughts of his wife from his mind. The destrier increased speed as they neared the target. Richard thrust the lance in the red “x” with all his strength. The force of the blow knocked the device from its supporting base. The quintain and counterweight fell sideways.

  Richard eased the destrier around the field, trying to find calm for himself as well as his mount. He was breathing heavily and his muscles trembled. The exertion had finally begun to purge some of the turmoil gnawing at him. He allowed the horse to slow to a walk and approached the group of young soldiers waiting at the end of the field. He could hear their awed whispers as he neared them.

  “Sweet Jesu, did you see that? He broke it! “

  “Damnedest thing I ever saw. Can you imagine facing him on the battlefield?”

  “I told you he was the best.” The voice of Nicholas, Richard’s squire, came low and proud. “There’s no one else like the Leopard.”

  Richard almost smiled. It was pleasing to know he inspired such admiration. Still, the youths’ awe would not serve them on the battlefield. They needed to keep practicing and learn the trick of it themselves. It might well save their lives someday.

  He made his face stern as he neared the group, intent on instilling some discipline. A mocking voice to his right diverted his attention.

  “Very nice, Reivers. It’s well that you keep practicing your warrior skills. With Henry’s mood these days, you have little hope of ever rising above a knight.”

  The muscles in Richard’s face and jaw went rigid. Curse Rathstowe! Of all times for him to visit the training field.

  Richard’s eyes flicked sideways, and he caught a glimpse of his enemy. Faucomberg’s face was flushed with amusement, his mouth stretched into a gloating grin. Richard resisted the urge to smash his fist into his tormentor’s mocking countenance. He would not sink so low as to attack his foe in such a cowardly fashion.

  He turned. “If you wish to do battle, Faucomberg, say the word. The choice of weapons is yours.”

  The red-haired man laughed, a shrill and effeminate sound. “Fight you, Reivers? I think not. I have better things to do with my time. In a few days I intend to announce my betrothal to a very wealthy young woman.” His smile widened. “It’s a shame you couldn’t have found an heiress yourself, Reivers. It’s obviously the only hope you ever had of being anything more than a common knight. I hear your wife is utterly penniless. Odd, I would never have taken you for such a dolt that you would marry for love.”

  Richard’s vision faded, usurped by a red tide of hatred. When he could see again, Faucomberg was walking away. His unprotected back taunted Richard. It would be so easy to pull out his misericord and end the puling bastard’s life! His fingers twitched with the effort of holding back.

  Faucomberg disappeared beyond the barracks. Richard took a deep breath and started for his destrier. He heard a sound behind him and remembered Nicholas and the other squires. Anger filled him anew. They had all heard Rathstowe taunt him. Even now they were likely laughing at him. It was obvious the whole court knew how Astra had tricked him.

  Richard walked toward his horse and grabbed the fallen reins. He led the animal across the field, stopping at the broken quintain where pulled his dagger and viciously attacked the sack of sand weighting the device.

  By the time he finished, the sack was torn to ribbons and sand poured from a dozen gaping holes. He stared at the ruined object a moment, his lip curling in satisfaction. It was pleasing to think of ramming his knife into Faucomberg’s pallid, sneering face.

  Then his thoughts shifted, and he gave the sack a tentative poke. This time he envisioned Astra’s lush body, and the weapon became his own fleshly shaft. He frowned, remembering how his plan to punish Astra had gone awry. He had sought to be cold and brutal, to use her body without a thought for her pleasure. But it hadn’t worked. Her body’s incredible responsiveness had undone him.

  And yet, her body had not been willing at first. He’d had to gentle her, to coax her body into accepting his. Of course, he could have forced her. Perhaps if he had, she would not have been so tender and sweet this morning. Then she would know what it was like to be trapped and cornered.

  It was the perfect revenge, but he hadn’t been able to go through with it. He simply did not have the heart to make her suffer physical pain. Some stupid part of him still admired her, still hungered after her sweetness. It was ridiculous, and he was going to have to get over it somehow. He couldn’t let weakness interfere with his plan to punish her. Astra must pay the price for her treachery. He must make her realize that no one humiliated the Black Leopard.


  He gave the sack one last thrust and turned and walked toward the palace.

  * * *

  Astra glanced nervously at the knights surrounding her at the banquet table. It had been Richard’s idea for her to sit with his “friends”. As soon as she reached the Great Hall for the evening meal, her husband had beckoned her to join the group of rather disreputable-looking soldiers. Richard had greeted her civilly enough. He kissed her cheek, introduced her as his “lady wife,” even helped her to sit beside him. But for all his courtesy, she had no hope he had undergone any change in his feelings. Although he smiled, his eyes were hard. There was a mocking edge to his voice when he addressed her.

  The group of knights looked as ill at ease with her presence as she was with theirs. Their talk was subdued, and she sensed they resented having to curb their rough language for her sake. Richard appeared oblivious to the tension at the table. He talked animatedly and encouraged the other men to join in the conversation. Astra flushed as the talk turned to plans for later in the evening and the “stews” of Southwark, the most notorious district of brothels in the city.

  “Remember the lady,” one man cautioned, with a nod toward Astra.

  “Astra doesn’t care,” Richard assured them. “She’s a married woman now. She’s well acquainted with what goes on between a man and a woman.”

  Astra ducked her head. She dreaded to think where this was leading.

  “There must be quite a few women in London who will be disappointed to learn the Black Leopard has married,” one of the younger knights said with a guffaw. “What do we tell them, Reivers? Is there no hope you will join us tonight?”

  “Not tonight,” Richard said nonchalantly. “For now I am content to keep to my wife’s bed. My intention is to teach her all the skills of a whore. Then I won’t have to go in search of my pleasure elsewhere.”

 

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