A Knight for Love

by A. M. Westerling

  Mercifully, the ceremony was short. The plump, black robed priest droned on a short while reciting Latin verse. They knelt in prayer, the priest waved his hand in benediction and it was done.

  In unison they stood then Alyna peeped up at Warin. The wall sconces burned behind him, haloing his head, while the candles at the altar burned in front of him, gilding his face.

  She had to concede one thing.

  Her new husband was strong and handsome. Even in his travel stained clothing, he posed a fine figure. Also, she knew from his performance at the joust that he was adept with weaponry. Mayhap he did not love her, but half of her dream was in place, for she loved him.

  Mayhap he could learn to love her.

  *****

  They were shown to their apartment by the same page who had taken them to the chapel. The ever cautious Bennet trailed along behind, but Alyna had no choice but to walk at Warin’s side for he had taken her hand and firmly placed it in his elbow. As seemed to be her wont in London, the maze of corridors, rooms and endless doors confused her but finally, they stopped. The page swung open the door and bowed them through.

  “I’ll sleep outside,” announced Bennet. “‘Tis not seemly for a husband and wife to share their chamber with another on their wedding night.” He sat down, pulling out the leather flask that had been concealed beneath his tunic. Waving it at them, he winked and said, “Sleep well.”

  Our wedding night, Alyna thought in dismay. Of course the vows would have to be consummated but did it have to be tonight? The events of the day tired and overwhelmed her. In the space of a few short hours she had gone from unmarried maid to wedded wife. How unreal. But her husband was real enough – he awaited her by the doorway, head cocked, and eyebrow quirked as if to say, “Do you defy me already?”

  Warin stepped back for her to enter. She crossed the threshold, feet dragging, heart pounding, as if she faced her doom. The door closed behind her with a solid ‘thunk’ then the latch rattled as it dropped. Her heart leapt into her throat, closely bolstered by her stomach that seemed to have crammed itself into her chest. She struggled to breath.

  “Wine?” Warin’s voice drifted lazily across the space, caressing her ears.

  She turned around to face him, taking a small, involuntary step back for he completely filled the small room. Two wall hung tapers flickered in the draughty air, sending shadows dancing across the low ceiling, so low, in fact, he could easily touch it with one hand if he so chose.

  Without waiting for her response, he poured the burgundy liquid into two brass goblets. She peeped around him – someone had been solicitous of their well being for besides the wine, the tray also held fruit, cheese and a trencher of smoked fish.

  He turned back to her. “Wine?” he asked again, lifting a goblet towards her.

  “N-Nay,” she stammered, tearing her gaze from the bed curtained in heavy gold linen before looking at his face. She had heard him ask before but his close proximity scrambled her wits. In an effort to collect them, she concentrated on the cries of the watchmen and the sundry sounds of London drifting through the single pane window behind her.

  She tried to keep her gaze from the bed so as not to dwell on what was about to happen. But her eyes would not obey her mind – they crept back to look at the bed. A thrill of anticipation shot through her – she had heard enough whispers to know the pleasure that happened between a man and a woman.

  “Alyna, drink.” Warin pressed a goblet into her hands. “Mayhap it’s not the ideal situation, but a toast is in order, isn’t it?”

  “Very well.” She nodded and swiped the goblet from his hand. She hoped he didn’t notice how her hand shook.

  “To us,” Warin said simply, raising his goblet.

  She nodded and raised hers, then took a demure sip.

  They stood facing each other, her breath ragged and sounding unusually loud in her ears, his slow and steady.

  “To Caperun Keep?” He smiled at her. His warm eyes admired her, admiring what she had no idea. The travel of the past weeks left her feeling dirty and ugly. Surely he couldn’t find her attractive at this very moment? Would that she could sink into a bath and cleanse the grime from her body before they shared their wedding bed.

  “Aye, to the Keep,” she agreed. In an effort to still her nerves, she tilted her head back and recklessly drained the goblet.

  “Have you thirst?”

  “Aye,” she lied. Hoping the wine would give her courage, she lifted her goblet to be refilled.

  “Eat.” Warin held out a pear to her. “Wine on an empty stomach can make one ill.”

  She took it and bit into it. Juice dribbled down her chin from the ripe fruit and she wiped it off with the back of one trembling hand.

  “Let me aid you.” He moved away to the steaming basin of water perched on the carved bench situated at the end of the bed. And beside the basin, a linen towel and soap.

  He dipped a corner of the towel into the water and dabbed at her chin. Sandalwood scented the warm water and her toes curled with pleasure.

  “There is naught to fear,” he whispered. He untied her scarf and slowly, ever so carefully, pulled it from her head. He dipped the towel into the basin again and this time washed her entire face, ending at her neck. He took a dry corner and gently patted it dry.

  “Alyna,” he whispered again. He dropped the towel and his hands crept toward her shoulders, slid around them, pulled her close.

  He inhaled deeply. “I love the way you smell. Lily of the valley. Like springtime.” He pulled back and gazed at her, a crooked little grin tickling the corner of his mouth. She swallowed hard at the desire rippling through his eyes. Desire for her.

  “Let me wash you.” Without waiting for her reply, he tugged at her tunic, pulling it off over her head with a smooth, sensuous motion. He, too, pulled off his tunic and they stood there, she in her green kirtle, he in his chausses, chest bare.

  Alyna remembered the pear in her hand and took another bite. Brazenly, for the wine started to affect her, she offered a bite to Warin and he obliged, sinking broad white teeth into the flesh of the fruit. She shivered, more from nerves than from cold, for he watched her from heavy lidded eyes the entire time he chewed.

  She took another bite and offered him the pear again. Again, he watched her as he chewed, languidly and sensuously, licking his lips as he finished. He took the core from her limp fingers and tossed it on the tray.

  The tapers fought valiantly against the twilight but Alyna could see only Warin’s eyes and the occasional glint of his teeth in the dimness. Her heart had stilled but her stomach yet churned at the thought of what was to come.

  “Come,” Warin commanded. “Stand here.”

  She obliged. The prospect of being washed by him enticed her. How had he known her desire to bathe? Was he a sorcerer then, able to read her thoughts? Or was he simply gallant, thoughtful and solicitous of her well-being?

  If sorcerer, then he had surely beguiled her for her thoughts at this very moment fell only on him. If the other, then the minstrels sang true of gallant knights. Either way, she was lost, lost in a storm of deepening love and desire.

  “We begin.” Although the words were clipped, abrupt, the tone of them was smooth, seductive and Alyna followed his instructions as if in a trance.

  “Lift your arms.” She did and the green kirtle soon followed the tunic. Her hands dropped back slightly and landed on his bare chest and she looked at her fingers splayed against the burnished skin. They almost seemed as if they belonged to another, so foreign was it to see them resting against him.

  Beneath her palms, his muscles rippled as he dipped the towel in the basin again and began to stroke her arms. Her breasts tingled and peaked, straining against her chemise in twinned splendor.

  He must have noticed, for his sudden intake of breath was harsh, loud in the silence of the little room. However, he said nothing, silently rubbing dry her arms before lifting her chemise to peel off her hose and boots.

>   Again, he dipped the wet corner of the cloth into the basin to begin washing her legs. Goose bumps rose in waves across her arms as he came closer, ever closer to that secret place at the juncture of her thighs. He stopped just short.

  She stared at him wide eyed, wanting to say something but not knowing what. She listened instead to a tower clock somewhere nearby chiming vespers. The sun must have set then.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Alyna, you are so beautiful. That my eyes could not see it that day our paths crossed is a mystery to me for now it is plain as day that you are a beautiful woman.”

  Beautiful, he thought her beautiful. She clung to that thought as carefully, he grabbed the hem of her chemise to pull it off. She should feel shame as her breasts stood exposed but she did not.

  Instead, she tilted her head back, unknowingly thrusting her breasts ever more forward. She closed her eyes as he slowly began to bathe her torso. He leaned into her as he washed her back and his chest rubbed against her rucked nipples. Exquisite, how exquisite the sensation.

  A little whimper escaped from her throat as he began to lave her breasts. At first she thought it was with the damp cloth, but it wasn’t until she opened her eyes and glanced down that she could see his tongue dipped and glided, teasing each nub. Gently he began to nibble one nipple as he tweaked the other with his fingers.

  “Ohhhh,” she moaned. “Warin….” His name trailed off her lips as he continued to play with her breasts. Her head lolled back and she closed her eyes again to savor the tingling spreading throughout her body. It culminated in that woman’s place between her legs and she could feel wetness there. For some baffling reason, she wanted to open to him, to spread her legs and she did just that, leaning her weight on one foot to move the other foot further away.

  The unconscious movement must have been a signal for Warin, for he again dampened the cloth and began to wash there.

  “Alyna, your body betrays you,” he whispered in her ear. “You hunger for me, for something you know naught of. Let me show you,” he brushed his lips lightly over hers, “the beauty of a man and a woman together.”

  This time he wet the soap, and massaged it against the damp curls between her legs. Slowly, hypnotically, he rubbed until the wiry strands were thick with suds. Then he dampened the cloth again and wiped off the soap with the same slow, hypnotic pace until she felt as if she would collapse. Something inside her screamed for release, for, instinctively, she began to move in cadence back against his hand, tilting her pelvis upward to increase the pressure.

  “Show me,” she pleaded. “Show me, for I yearn, Warin, and I know not for what.”

  With a growl, he threw aside the cloth and lifted her onto the bed.

  “The anticipation, Alyna, is what makes the coming together special. Watch me,” he commanded roughly. Quickly he stripped off his chausses and his penis sprang free, reminding her of that day in Ada’s hut. Thus he had stood, proudly erect, pulsating with his very lifeblood.

  “Remember the bath in Ada’s hut? My body betrayed me. My mind thought you a lad but my body knew better.” He glanced down at himself. “See, my body betrays me again. I hunger for you, Alyna.”

  He began to wash, starting with his face and chest, and ending with his groin area. His eyes were on her face as he wiped himself, challenging her, daring her to look away.

  Enthralled, Alyna couldn’t tear her eyes from him as he dragged the linen across his body, for he stood there as a statue, muscles keenly sculpted, belly flat, skin gleaming in the candlelight. She should feel embarrassment yet she did not. It was safe and private here, a privacy shared by only her and Warin and not the affair of the world outside. What happened between these walls belonged to them only.

  She began to tremble.

  “Cold?”

  She shook her head. “Nay.” How could she explain to him her limbs trembled, not with cold, but with expectation?

  “Here.” He pulled the bed covers to one side. Obediently she rolled over and now she lay on her stomach.

  She could hear the soft thwack as the towel dropped onto the bench and then his breath flared across the back of her neck. The mattress sagged with his weight and she rolled into him a little.

  “Alyna,” he breathed. He began to kiss her, light, faerie kisses that made her skin tingle. Gently he stroked her back, whisper soft caresses that caused a tickling sensation in the pit of her stomach.

  She clung to the pillow beneath her head, fingers curved and knuckles taut as his hands began to wander over her body, first her buttocks, then her thighs and then slowly back to her shoulders. Each touch was more and more pleasurable and unbidden, her body understood. She arched her back and tilted her pelvis back towards him.

  Her response appalled and shocked Alyna, for her physical being knew only too well how to move. Somehow she knew the unfamiliar hardness nestling against her buttocks was the key to her succor and she began to rock her hips against him. The answer lay with Warin – she searched for something from him that would make her complete.

  An image flashed through her mind, that of the stallions mounting the mares when in heat. With a sudden understanding of what was about to happen, she tried to raise her hips so that Warin could enter, to ease the want inside her that had no words.

  “Nay, Alyna,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “We do not couple like animals. Let me guide you.” He rolled her over and began to kiss her with a thoroughness that would have unnerved her under different circumstances. As it was, she opened her mouth eagerly and accepted him. She teetered on the verge of something wonderful and Warin would show her at his own leisure. She had naught to do but enjoy.

  Yet Warin delayed the final act, choosing instead to lavish attention again on her breasts. He suckled first one, then the other as his hands moved lower to hold her buttocks. Again, she arched her back and her legs spread open involuntarily. Her eyes were closed, squeezed tightly shut as if that would keep everything to her.

  Please, Warin, please, what is it you are to show me? Thoughts tumbled through her mind incoherently as the sensations began to build even more, as he moved himself against her nub, tantalizing her, teasing a response.

  Warin could hold back no longer. With a groan, he slid the tip of his man shaft between her legs. Wetness cascaded around him, showing him her eagerness, easing his penetration and guiding the way. He had done his preparation well, for he slipped in smoothly.

  He checked himself for a scant moment, although the reality was that he wanted to plunge and buck and loose the torrent of life fluid that would be his ultimate release.

  Her muscles quivered around him and that proved his undoing.

  With a jubilant cry, he plunged through the final delicate barrier and claimed Alyna truly as his own. Finding her lips again, he drank from her sweetness as he thrust, gently at first then faster, harder, following the wild rhythm of procreation.

  Alyna clung to Warin’s steel tempered body above her, wrapping her legs about him and hooking her ankles together.

  It was everything that had been promised and more, a fulfillment that had no words.

  She had become one with the man inside her, moving with him and following him in the ageless dance. And when her release came, for what else could it be but the sudden loosening of sensation that had coiled about her, she cried her pleasure into his ear, biting hard on the ear lobe.

  One last thrust and she heard him scream too, primal and exultant, a scream echoing up into the heavens.

  And then they lay there, panting hard, breaths mingling. She could feel him yet inside, could feel his weight pressing down then could feel the wetness as finally, gently, he pulled himself free.

  He rolled over to his back, catching her by the shoulders and maneuvering her close so that she lay on her side, nestled within his arms against his left shoulder, face against the hollow of his shoulder blade. It felt natural to crook her leg and drape it across Warin’s flat stomach and now her foot lay in line with his far leg
. In the golden flicker of the tapers, she could see her leg on his, an intimate posture that spoke volumes of the new realm they had just entered.

  Shyly, she reached her hand over and curled her fingers about Warin’s right shoulder. She gave a contented little sigh and snuggled her cheek deeper into him. She lay there easily while first one then the other taper died out.

  The room wasn’t in total darkness, for small slivers of light came in under the door and feathered their way across the floor. From afar, clock bells chimed compline and closer by, a burst of laughter flitted down the hall.

  Alyna closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift a minute or two before sleep over took her.

  Tonight, she would not dwell on the fact he didn’t love her.

  Tonight was pure enjoyment. Tonight, his arms were her haven, what she had been wishing and wanting for.

  Tonight was her destiny.

  *****

  If Alyna but knew it, she would have been much more at ease, for Warin’s thoughts closely tracked hers. He lay there relishing the aftermath of their lovemaking, relishing the triumph of making Alyna his own. Mayhap he didn’t deserve to find the happiness and peace within himself that he sought but for tonight, he could believe in it just for a little while.

  Alyna.

  Her name echoed through his mind and he glanced down at the tousled tawny head pressed so sweetly to his shoulder. Whisper soft, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  The clerics, the priests, the monks, all were wrong. Heaven, the ultimate paradise, wasn’t an unknown concept of the skies above. Heaven could be found here on earth, here in the arms of Alyna.

  In her arms, he could forget the cruel foibles of mankind. In her arms, he could find the strength to push away the doubts and self-recrimination that followed him always, circled about him always, phantom birds of prey, waiting to swoop down and tear away what few shreds of contentment he could gather.