The sound left the room in a wave. Waleran brought his hands down and looked around. It was just his room again: a sturdy bed, a couple of storage chests, and a bench. The gloom of moonlight filtered in through the chinks in the shutters.
Waleran hauled himself up and walked cautiously back to the bed. None of the visions came back. He settled himself on the edge of the bed and bowed his head.
Visions had haunted him since he was three. They were the spirits of the dead – that much he knew. A kindly, fatherly figure with a smashed in head explained it to him. Waleran could see the dead. The dead needed to talk. They never could talk to their families.
Naturally, Waleran went to his priest at age ten and told him the frightening news about his visions. He was scared he may be possessed. The beating he received that day was enough to leave permanent scourge marks across his back. He never said anything again.
To his father, he said merely that he was troubled. Indeed, he was and likely would always be. They told his uncles the same things. Most of them were either dead or locked up in jail for their insistence that they could see the dead. Waleran did not want to land there, but it was getting harder every day to ignore the people that appeared to him. He hardly slept because that was when it was the most intense.
Avelina would understand even less than his father. He had to stay away from her, but his father was not interested in the troubles he was having. The fact that this curse ran in Waleran’s family was clear to him. Too many uncles and cousins had suffered at the hands of religious fanatics and the world in general.
He could not submit a child to this sort of curse. It was true that his father did not have it, but how could Waleran take that chance? It ran in his blood, the nightmare. The thought of having a child was the single most terrifying thing he could conceive of. Yet he wanted his lands and to be powerful enough to find his sisters good marriages.
The problem – other than his father – was that Avelina was like an angel in the middle of his cursed and dark life. She floated on air, and he, when around her, felt the weight of his world lift. He had no wish to harm her. In fact, he would love to hold her in his arms and make love to her. She truly was a beautiful woman and kind. She had her own curse being married to a half mad man like him.
He would not and could not tell her. Her shunning him would be harder to take than the priest of his childhood and the way his father ignored him. Against his better judgment, hope somehow existed in him that someone – this one – would understand.
The only way out was to try and explain some of it to her. Not the whole truth, of course, but to explain that it wasn’t her. He would have to try. There was no doubt he wanted her. He would have to be careful, but, oh, how nice to touch her and hold her! She was his wife, after all. He could love her and pet her without consummating the marriage –as he had done with countless women in the past. He could take his pleasure and pull out before his release. It would be nothing to just be with her.
Aye, he would take her into his confidence and see if he could trust her. She could end up being his ally, and that gave him tremendous hope – a feeling that was a long time from his heart. He had to tell her why he could not fully consummate their marriage.
Chapter 3
Avelina sat in the room appointed to her and Waleran. He had not come to see her yet this evening and she doubted that he would. In hope and sadness, she kept a few candles lit and the brazier burning despite the cost. They were his goods, anyway, and it would serve him right if he wasted them by not coming to see her.
She worked on a shirt she was making for him, pulling the thread through the fine woolen weave. She hoped she had guessed right at his proportions because she could not get close enough to him to measure. Perhaps just the giving of the gift would be enough to warm his heart to her.
There was a knock on the door and Avelina froze in mid-stitch. “My lady, may I come in.”
It was Waleran. “Of course you may. It is your room.”
Waleran entered slowly. He looked strained, drawn, and tired as usual. Looking at him, she thought he never slept. He shut the door quietly behind him, and he flexed his hands a few times then ran his hand through his hair.
“I’m making you a shirt,” she said to have something to say.
His face brightened. “Oh? How did you do that without measuring me?”
“I guessed.” She smiled at him. “You could try it on now to make it easier for me to fit it for you.”
He furrowed his brow. “Avelina …”
She shook her head. “Nay, come here. I will have it fit you. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
“You have no idea.”
“Am I so repulsive to you?”
“Nay!” He strode across the room. “Come. Let me try on the shirt.”
Avelina cleared her throat. “You will have to take that one off first, my lord. I don’t think I will get a proper fit over the other.”
Waleran hesitated, and she added, “Unless you do not wish to be naked in front of me. In that case, I can leave the room, my lord husband.”
He crossed his arms, grasped the edges of his shirt, and drew the garment over his head. She swallowed hard when she saw him. He was more muscular than she thought he’d be. His skin was dark, his flesh firm and lightly haired. She admired the tight, flat expanse of his abdomen and his broad shoulders.
Waleran ran his hand through his hair again. “Come, my lady, let us have the shirt. It is cold in here.”
She stood up immediately and turned the shirt the right way around. She handed it to him. “Be careful or you will burst the stitches.”
He laughed, and she started. She never heard him laugh before. It was a beautiful sound. “Are you so bad at guessing that I should worry over a good fit?”
Avelina laughed, too. “Nay, my lord, I do not stitch it so tight when it hasn’t been fit yet. It would take too much work to undo the stitching to make a better fit. Let me see how it looks now.”
The cloth bulged at the shoulders and along his upper arm. There was simply too much muscle there for what she had allowed. It hugged his stomach and waist lightly, but was too tight as it widened towards the thighs. It would take far more work than she anticipated fixing this.
She stepped towards him. “Hold still. I need to open the seams and pin it to your size.” He smelled like fresh water and clean air. She touched his shoulder lightly, carefully undoing her stitch. She felt him shudder beneath her hand.
“Are you well, my lord?”
His voice sounded strangled. “Aye.”
Avelina stepped around to the front of him. His cheeks were a high red, and he could not look at her. She stepped away. “I’m sorry.”
Waleran reached out and took her hand. Flames erupted in her at his touch. He pulled her closer. His eyes were intense, smoldering with an emotion she did not understand.
Her breath was coming faster now, and she licked her lips in anticipation of his. Waleran groaned softly in the back of his throat.
“My lady, you would not believe me, but, by God, you are stunning.”
Before she could answer, he pressed his lips to hers and she tasted the salt and wind of his mouth. She reveled in it, hungry for a feeling that she could not describe.
Waleran broke off the kiss, and she stood in the circle of his arms in a near swoon. Her heart beat a rapid mark against her chest. She was scared, but she did not want him to stop. She did not want any of this to ever stop.
He looked at her, his gaze penetrating. A decision seemed to come to his mind. “I shouldn’t, but, by God’s head, I want to!” he cried.
Waleran kissed her again. This time his tongue, thick and warm, brushed across her closed lips. She parted to take him in and he darted his tongue in and out of her mouth in a slow, sensual dance. She decided to taste him, her tongue winding with his, drawing a moan from deep in his chest. She tugged at the undone shirt and it slipped off of him.
She broke away from his
lips and kissed his chest. The hard muscles rippled under her touch as he moved his hand, stroking her long hair away from her face so that he could watch her.
He lifted her suddenly and swept her over to the bed. He did not lay her down but stood her beside the bed. He began to slowly undo the laces that held her gown fastened. Her breasts began to swell as he got closer to exposing her, and she could feel them ache.
Waleran smoothed his hand over one full breast and squeezed it lightly, rhythmically. Her body pulsed with heat, an ache penetrating deep between her legs at a place she thought unreachable.
Her gown undone, he gently lay her down on the bed. He ran his hands down her thighs and to her calves. He knelt on the floor and placed her knees over his shoulders. He pulled her towards the end of the bed.
“Wait! Oh, my God!”
Waleran and brushed his face and lips against the fine hairs of her. He kissed the inside of her thigh, using his tongue to tease along the length of it. With the tip of his tongue, he parted her wet lips and skated all along the hot inside of her.
An unnamable ache curled and twisted inside her. Her hips bucked towards his mouth, wanting more of something she could not explain. With his fingers, he spread her lips wide open and sucked on the soft, inside part of her. His tongue slipped in and out of her, approaching that ache, but not even getting close.
Then his tongue surged upward, and she lost all sense of time and feeling.
Her head arched back, her body wracked with a sensation so intense, it may as well have been pain. She pulled his head towards her, pushing him down inside of her as he stroked and stroked that tiny spot of her insides that made her want to scream.
Within moments, he was naked and atop her, her legs wrapped securely around his waist. Looking between them, bewildered and overcome, she saw his member standing hard, waiting to enter her.
He paused and looked at her. She could see indecision there, a question in his look that made him stop in the act of making love to her. Then his face softened, and he smiled at her tentatively. His lips touched hers, and he entered her in one swift motion.
He touched that ache inside her then. Her body pulsed and curled around him, pulling him ever deeper into her. Slowly, he rocked his hips. She flexed her legs on his waist, pulling him as deep as she could with every devastating stroke.
It hurt for a moment. He was still, watching her. “Are you well, my lady?”
She nodded, hating the tears in her eyes.
Waleran eased into a gentle rhythm and the ache dissipated to be replaced by a more pleasurable pounding. She gripped his shoulders and urged him on, the pain a distant memory as she wrapped herself around him.
Supporting himself on one strong arm, he reached between them and rubbed at the tiny spot of pleasure inside of her. As he stroked, her feelings began to shatter. She was sweating, the feeling building in her. It grew as his thrusts grew faster, her legs squeezing him as hard and tight as she could.
In a moment of utter release, she arched her back and could not move. He thrust into her two times, three times, and he was locked in the same arch, pulsing towards her as her vision darkened on the edges. Flushed and exhausted from the storm, she gasped as he slipped out of her, wanting even more.
“Waleran.”
He turned to her, his eyes mirroring her own the love drunk darkness.
His eyebrows drew down, his frown deep and overwhelming. “You bewitch me. Don’t ever say that I cannot stand you or that I find you repulsive.” He looked away. “I did not pull out in time.”
She pulled towards him, but he flinched away. His voice was a soft growl. “Nay, I cannot – I cannot stay. It is my failing what we have done here tonight.” He paused. “I wanted you more than I gave myself credit for.” He found his hose at the end of the bed and dressed himself.
“I don’t understand.” She was still feeling the effects of the tumble, wanting him more and more with each passing second.
“I know you don’t. I don’t blame you because I don’t understand it myself.” He pulled the door open, but turned before he left. “I am sorry, Avelina. Had I been another person or this another time, I would make love to you all night.” He frowned, his face hardening in a mask of anger. “But I can’t.”
Avelina sat in the bedroom alone, too stunned to cry. She wanted him back, wanted to feel his warmth beside her. The fact that he didn’t find her repulsive was a welcomed relief, but she could not understand what was wrong with him. Why couldn’t he stay?
A day ago, she would have been terrified of him. Was it something in her maid’s talks that changed her mind or was it him? He was gentle, yet powerful with a barely suppressed anger that she felt could explode at any minute. She knew he would not hurt her, though. He would take that anger and whatever he was hiding and play it out on the field of battle.
She found that she was really not afraid of him anymore.
It would be like being afraid of a soft wool cloth or a kitten. She loved him for his gentleness and the way he touched her.
Love. Did she really love him? Nay, not quite. His lovemaking was so tender, so complete and exciting that she could not imagine going without it again.
The fact was that they needed an heir. Her duty and responsibility was to produce a child to carry on the lands. Who would look after the people they were responsible to if there was no one to follow in their holdings? Second, she was incredibly lonely when Waleran was gone for so long. It may have been selfish, but it was undoubtedly true.
That she wanted to make love to Waleran again was no question, but she needed to get to the bottom of why he continually ran from her and would not show her the love he so obviously wanted to. This was a man that she wanted to have children with and wanted to share her life and body with. There would be no way to do that unless she found out what was bothering him. She would seek out the answers – from him or his family – so that she could help to heal him.
And they could produce an heir for his father, for himself, and, most especially, for her.
Maud found her the next morning as she was awakening. The girl looked pleased with herself, if a bit worn around the edges.
“Good morning, my lady. I trust you slept well.”
“I did not sleep at all.”
“What is amiss?”
Avelina looked at her clasped hands sitting on her lap. “Waleran was here last night.”
Maud smiled. “Ah, did it hurt the first time? Where is the man? Was he not gentle with you?”
“Nay, he was gentle. Told me that he was not repulsed by me, but after we were done, he left. Just … left.”
Maud sat down beside her. “He has always been odd that one. He keeps mostly to himself. I have never seen him with a woman ever in my life. I’ve seen him look, but he does not pursue them.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve heard him screaming in his room at night. I think he’s mad.”
Avelina’s breath quickened. “Nay, I know he’s not.”
“I only tell you what I saw. It is odd that he’s left the bed – and that he is over twenty summers and has never shown much interest in a woman.” Maud grinned. “That is, until tonight. You must have seduced him with some powerful charms.”
Avelina shook her head. “I merely touched him while fitting a shirt.” She grabbed her maid’s hand. “He is not mad.”
“As you say.”
But deep in her heart, Avelina did not know. The only one who would know for sure would be his father. Of course he wasn’t mad. He was just troubled … and hard to understand. One way or another she would find out what ailed him and help him to open up to her. It was the only way to ensure happiness in their marriage – and to fulfill the obligation of having an heir.
His father was the key.
Chapter 4
Avelina found Richard in the solar. He was bent over a map, the candle nearly guttering at his elbow. He looked up at her approach.
“Good morrow to you, daughter.” He smil
ed.
She sat on the bench beside him and studied the map of eastern England, marveling at the detail. He pointed out some highlights to her. “This is where we are here.” His finger trailed over the map. “And this is where the cursed De Mandeville is holing up against Stephen.”
“Do you think we are in trouble here?”
He shook his head. “The villain knows better than to come out of his hole. He would be easily defeated in a pitched battle.” He looked at her closely. “You did not come here to discuss this map, dear. What do you think about?”
“Waleran.” Avelina twisted her hands in her lap. “He came to me last night.”
“Splendid!”
“But then he left me.”
He shook his head. “Do not take it ill, my daughter. Some men are like that. I could speak to him about it, if it pleases you.”
“Nay, he said that he could not stay and that I would not understand. I think he wanted to stay, but he convinced himself that he could not.” She looked up into eyes so much like Waleran’s. “There is talk that he’s mad.”
Richard turned back to the map. “My son is odd.” He looked back at her. “But he is not mad.” He didn’t look sure when he said the words.
“He does not sleep.”
“Nonsense.”
She stood and paced. “Have you ever looked at him? His eyes are darker than underbrush. I’ve heard him screaming and pounding in the night.”
“In his youth …” Richard stopped. “You are not in harm’s way. My son would never hurt you.”
“That is not what distresses me.”
“You are worried that you married a mad man.”
“I am worried that he is suffering and that I cannot help him!” She lowered her voice. “I am worried for him.”
Richard smiled. “You are a good wife, but he is not mad. He is just … different. He has been different since he was a boy, very vivid nightmares. He would make up stories. We had to beat him a few times for lying and then insisting he was telling the truth. A boy must learn that lying cannot be tolerated.” He paused, sighed. “Waleran’s a good man, though. Do not hold nightmares against him.”
Lynda Marie Vanderhoff Page 2