“I hold nothing against him.” She leaned in and kissed Richard on the cheek. “Thank you for your help, father. I will treat him well.”
He smiled and went back to his map. Avelina closed the door quietly behind her. There was only one way to get to the end of this, to find out the answer. She would have to ask Waleran … if she could get through talking to him without wanting to make love to him. Heat suffused her at the very thought. She wanted to find out about him, every bit, and heal him. Even if it took all of her strength, she would get to the bottom of it. He was not mad, but there was something incongruous about him. No matter. She would care for him anyway.
And she realized she did care for him, and that, suddenly, he was the most important thing in the world.
He paced the room. Waleran could not understand his stupidity. He always withdrew before he climaxed. With countless women, he had perfected the art. It wasn’t as good, but it was his curse. With Avelina, he felt wrapped up in a blanket of warmth that made him wish he could sleep in her arms. He forgot himself and spilled his seed inside of her. Even now a cursed son could be forming in her womb.
There was no way this could go on.
A woman appeared before him, dressed in the habit of a nun. She was old – too old to stand, really – and smiled at him kindly.
“I am not here for me.”
Waleran backed away. Usually, when these things started, they did not stop until they got ugly. “Please leave, then.”
“We mean you no harm.”
“Then why do you appear to me? Why do you torment me?”
She sighed and her rosary beads chinked. “We do not intend to torment you. There are not many with the gift that you have. We on the other side want to see our families again, the same as those here want to see their loved ones. We hoped that you could help.”
“I don’t want to help. I want nothing to do with it.”
At that, a group of knights emerged from the cold stone wall. One was missing a leg, the other an arm. The last one’s head was cloven in two. “Help us!”
Waleran put his hands over his ears and backed away. “See? See!”
“They will not harm you, Waleran. Stand your ground.”
On they came. Waleran was backed into the far corner of his room, unable to move. The knight with the cloven head spoke first. “Tell my wife I love her. Will you tell her?”
“Nay!”
The others spoke, this time all speaking at once, of questions and pleas and begging. Waleran yelled at them. He charged at them, a man gone wild, and they dissipated into nothing, but others approached from other walls. The nun stood in the center, serene.
“They will not hurt you, Waleran, but neither will they go away.”
“Why should I be damned? Why should the devil give me no choice?” He grasped his sword and began swinging at the apparitions if for no other reason than to dissolve them. They were legion, and he was but one man.
“You are blessed. You have a gift. God would not give you something that he did not want you to use.”
“Tell the priest, then. Tell those who would burn me as a warlock or beat me as an agent of Satan. I want nothing to do with these gifts. I want nothing to do with the dead.”
The nun smiled. He did not stroke his sword through her, but she began to dissolve nevertheless. “Men do not know the mind of God. A gift is not something to merely overlook. I know that now. Heed God’s will, Waleran, and you will lead a happier life.”
She disappeared, and Waleran continued to hack at nothing, at figures that were as solid as smoke.
He whipped his sword around and came face to face with Avelina. He stopped his sword short of hitting her, and she flinched away from him. He saw in her eyes the confirmation of his madness. The door was open. He had not seen her come in.
“Are you well, my lord?”
The visions were gone and he was alone with Avelina. He could feel her presence thrum through him even though he wanted to ignore it. He let the tip of his sword droop against the wooden floor. Warmth suffused his cheeks.
“Nay, I am not well.”
She stepped closer to him, but he could not look at her. “What ails you?”
Avelina was too close. He could feel the urge in him rising again, the need that he tried so desperately to ignore. He would distract himself with talk. That was the only way.
He moved away from her towards his bed. “I am fine, my lady, just a bad dream. Tell me, what do you do besides mending clothing?”
She frowned. “There is quite a bit I do, my lord. I attend to the washing, oversee the kitchen …”
Waleran held up a hand to stop her. “Nay, nay, I did not mean that you were not doing your duties. I only meant to ask what things you like to do.” He managed a small smile for her. “What pleases you?”
“Sewing does please me. I like making new things and fixing old ones.” She paced towards him, and he immediately went on guard. “I like dancing, too, especially to the faster, clapping tunes.” She paused as he sat down hard on the bed. “And I like hawking.”
His smile was genuine this time. “You like hawking? What bird do you have?”
“Sadly, I do not have one here. My lord husband has not authorized the purchase of such a thing through the steward. I can order food stuffs and domestic materials, but nothing as extravagant as a hawk.”
“My lady, you only need say the word. I am afraid that I haven’t had a hawk in a long time – since I was a boy, actually. You will have your hawk.”
Unbidden, she threw herself into his arms and placed a hundred small kisses all over his face. “Thank-you, my lord, thank-you, thank-you!”
She almost toppled him backward, but he could not bring himself to push her away. His arms tightened around her waist and she stilled. He lowered his lids halfway and looked at her. She licked her lips, and he was undone.
Waleran pulled her too him and locked his lips over hers. She melted in his arms, her entire body seeming to fill in all of the places that kept them apart. He let his tongue slide easily into her mouth and she gasped against him, allowing him to fully taste her every inch.
He was hot and hard, ready to take her in a moment. She let her hands coast down his chest, over the edge of his woolen shirt to feel the heat of him. She immediately jerked her hand back as if he burned her. He smiled and gently took her hand. He placed her hand on him and rubbed against her. Her gentle, shy touch made him want to press her to the bed and take her as quickly as her could.
Waleran stood up. He pulled her to him, not breaking the kiss. He reached over her back to undo the laces to her gown.
Behind her stood the old nun, her face in a smile, her presence serene.
Lust fueled anger surged through him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Avelina jumped back as if catapulted. “I am here to see if ought was the matter, my lord.”
The nun disappeared when Avelina jumped back, but now the nun stood to the right, her expression unreadable. He did not take his eyes off of her, knowing that if he did, more of the visions would appear.
“You must go now,” he said to the room.
Both Avelina and the old nun said, “Nay.”
But Waleran did not here Avelina. He marched towards the nun. “You have to leave. I don’t want you here. I—I don’t want this so called gift.”
The old woman smiled. “It is a gift, but not one to be returned.”
Avelina was at his elbow. “Waleran, who are you talking to?”
He looked down at her in horror. When he looked back up, the nun was gone, but even now others were starting to come out of the walls. Their wailing had already begun on the edges of his mind.
“You have to leave. Now!”
“I want to help you.” Avelina tugged at his arm.
He grabbed her elbow and propelled her to the door. “There is no help for the damned.” He shoved her out the door and slammed it behind her.
The visions appeared. He p
icked up his sword from where he dropped it and prepared to do battle. He raised his voice into a scream and hacked into the smoke that made his nightmares.
In front of her, they tormented him. How could he ever explain? How could she ever understand?
Chapter 5
The dancing continued after dinner was done. Avelina sat next to Waleran atop the dais, miserable at a feast held to welcome her husband home. He did not talk to her, and she could not understand why.
Her earlier meeting with him was one of the most disturbing moments of her life. One moment she was lost in his caress and his passion, and the next his eyes were unfocused and he acted as if he could not even see her.
Perhaps he was mad. He did not seem so, even after that. He seemed truly afraid of whatever beset him. The point was to find out why he was behaving that way. What did he see?
“Did you get your hawk?”
His sudden words startled her. “Nay, it needs to be purchased but Edmund told me that he would procure one for me as soon as he can.”
Waleran shifted in his seat. “I will have the steward leave on the morrow to get one for you. There is no reason you should have to wait.”
There was silence between them for a moment, but Avelina wanted to know much more about him. “Did you hawk much as a child?”
He did not look at her, but she could see his face in profile and watched a small, wistful smile curve the corner of his mouth. “Aye, almost once a day. My father loved the hunt – still does, actually – and we would always be out in the forest. Mostly we would hawk, but my father enjoyed taking down the harts.” He shrugged. “Either way, I enjoyed being with him. Sometimes I would go off by myself and hawk.” He stopped, and she could see a dark mood pass over his face. “But not that often.”
Avelina resisted the temptation to ask why, knowing instinctively that he would close up to her even more. “Yet you do not have a hawk, my lord. Perhaps Edmund could get one for you as well. You would not have to go alone. I could come with you.”
Waleran looked at her, then. “Aye, I think I would like that.”
A man from the dance floor beckoned to them. “Come and dance, Lost Sword, and bring your fair wife with you.”
“Nay, I will leave the dancing to jackanapes such as you.” This brought a round of laughter, and Avelina was surprised to hear such humor from him. She wished he would turn some of that to her.
“What does ‘Lost Sword’ mean, my lord?”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, quaffed a draught of his wine, and gave her a rueful grin. “It is my nickname of sorts. I am Waleran Richard’s Son, but those who have known me longest call me Waleran Lost Sword.”
“I suppose you lost your sword, then?”
He chuckled. “Not just once, but many times. Every time I went to ride at the quintain or to work with the pell, I would have to search around for my sword. You see, I liked to play at knights and ladies, and I would leave my sword wherever I was when called to supper or some such thing.” He shook his head. “I was whipped more times than I care to remember because of that blasted sword.”
“I trust you remember it now.”
“Oh, aye, my father made me carry it on my hip everywhere I went. If I did not have it, then I would be whipped. I am rarely without it now.”
Avelina nodded. “I was called Avelina Small White Hands.” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she proffered her hands. He took them in both of his. “See, they are tiny and pale. Well, I am, too, but my hands were always thus and my father took great delight in my smallness. He said I was like a doll that children often play with.”
“Is that why you are not called Ava?”
“Aye, my father changed it when he saw how small I was.”
Waleran squeezed her hands and then, as if he was not thinking, pressed a kiss to the palm of each one. A swirl of heat and longing suffused her.
“Small, my lady wife, but not insignificant.” He smiled at her, warm and soft, but then that coldness came over him, and he looked away.
“Waleran …”
He stood abruptly. “I must to bed. It has been a long day, and Stephen has a need for me at court soon. I need to begin preparations on the morrow.”
“Why do you run from me? I mean you no harm.”
He turned and looked down on her, his eyes shining faintly. “I know. I just – I just can’t explain it to you.”
“Try. I implore you to try.”
Waleran grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to stand beside him. “Come with me, then. If you think you can face what your husband truly is, then I will show you.”
She shuddered, but raised her chin. “I love you. Whatever there is to face, I will.”
Waleran glared at her. “Do not say that until you know.”
“Nevertheless, it is true.”
He ran his hand hard over his face. “Come with me.”
Waleran pulled her along behind him as they ascended the stairs to his bed room. He knew that it was a dangerous place to take her because of his attraction to her, but he had nowhere else to go.
His mind was in a spin. She said she loved him, but how could that be? She didn’t even know him. If she knew – if she knew! – she would run from him and regret those words.
The only way to solve this once and for all was to tell her about his condition, to tell the truth and stop hiding. It would feel good to tell someone else again, but she may condemn him. Many had.
Nay, he refused to believe that. Avelina was different.
Waleran opened the door to his room, pulled her inside, and brought the door home with a restrained slam. He would tell her. He would have to tell her why he could not be the husband she wanted him to be, why he could not love her.
Even if he wanted her to, she would never understand.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her white gown giving her a ghostly appearance in the half dark. He looked at the walls in terror, expecting to see his tormenters emerging from the walls. No one. Not yet.
Avelina sat and stared at him, her hands crossed on her lap, her face serene.
“I need to speak with you.”
She nodded. “Aye, I gathered, my lord.”
He grasped his forehead and massaged his brow. “Please call me Waleran. I am not your lord and don’t want to be. Just … just call me Waleran.”
“Waleran, why are we here?”
He sat down on the bed next to her and realized too late it was not the best place for him to be. He looked into her eyes and could not tell her. He only wanted to bed her – despite how wrong and how dangerous that was. How could a man expect to be separated from women and from children his entire life?
Her smell infiltrated his nose so thickly that he could taste it, could taste her. Avelina seemed to understand it. She placed her hand alongside his face and smiled at him, “I do love you, Waleran. Tell me what ails you.”
“What ails me?” He was mesmerized by her eyes, by her wet and parted lips. “What ails me, Avelina, is that I love you, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
Before she could respond, he slid his hand behind her head and pulled her mouth to him. He pressed his lips against hers gently, but as the heat came on him, his lips became more demanding. He tilted his head to the side and parted his lips for her. Tentative and sweet, she darted her tongue inside of his mouth and sent his heart pounding in his chest.
He worked out the pins that held her veil and let her hair down, running his hands through the light brown locks that managed to be smoother, somehow, than the windblown grass.
To his surprise, she placed her hands on his chest, still kissing and exploring him, and let her hands trail down to his belt. Easily, she undid it and reached up under his tunic. Her hands immediately fell to touch his member.
Avelina broke her kiss with him, her eyes wide with shock. “I never realized … I mean, I’ve never touched a man …”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “It is well. Any way
that you touch me will be pleasurable.”
She bowed her head and looked at him from under her eyebrows. “You will let me do anything?”
“Oh, aye.” He was working at the laces to her dress, trying frantically to get to the soft skin of her breasts that were frustrated by her silks.
To his surprise, she pushed him down on the bed and straddled him. She fluffed her skirts and positioned herself directly over him so that he could feel the wetness that already waited for him. She grabbed both sides of her clothing and pulled her gown and chemise off over her head.
Waleran looked at her pale white skin in the low moonlight afforded by the room. He was a lucky man to have a wife of such beauty and a stupid man for leaving her alone for so long. He could not even remember why right now. All that he wanted was her.
He massaged the points of her hips and slid his hands up to cup just under her breasts. She smiled, and he brushed his thumbs over her nipples. That caused her to jerk in surprise, and he grinned.
He tried to pull her down onto him, but she shook her head. Instead, she dismounted him and ran her hand along the length of him. He was hard, ready to burst under her tentative and sweet touch. But he knew what she was after.
She loosened the ties on his braies and pulled them down over his hips. She touched the tip of his hardness with a single fingertip, and he arched off the bed.
“I’m sorry, Waleran. My maid told me how to please you. I will do my best, I promise.”
With that, she lowered her head to his member and took him entirely into her mouth. She was careful with her teeth, sucking on him as if she had known many men this way before.
Waleran pressed a fist to his forehead. Her hair spilled around his waist and tickled every sensitized nerve in his lower body. His buttocks tensed and tightened, wanting to bury himself in her, but careful not to give her too much too fast. She stroked him with her mouth, her head bobbing as she worked at him, a virgin with exceptional abilities.
Lynda Marie Vanderhoff Page 3