by Ruth Kaufman
She sank to her knees and burst into tears.
“Thank you, Michel,” Apollo said.
She wiped her cheeks as Apollo helped her stand. As before, he kept his arm around her. “And how many are not safe? How many died?”
Michel had the grace to look away. “The dead and injured are still being tallied. We should have the totals shortly. Bonsoir.”
“I’m so glad for you, Aline,” Apollo said, enfolding her in a hug.
“Thank you. Michel brought great news, but didn’t say, and I didn’t think to ask, what will become of them.” Was the worst over?
She needed something to hold on to. Someone to hold her, who could make her believe all could be well if only for a few hours. Anything to give her tormented mind a rest.
“I want us to sleep in the bed tonight. Together,” Aline announced. “If you want that, too.”
“I do. Are you sure?”
“I’m making an important decision for myself, at last. In the chateau, my choices were what to wear and what to embroider. When the siege began, I couldn’t even choose what to eat, as I could at home, as supplies grew limited. Now, we wait upon the king’s word. If I become your wife, you’ll have authority over me. During this brief interval, not under my father’s roof and not yet wed, I’m beholden only to me. And this is what I want.”
“Good. Very good.”
She smiled. “And when I say sleep, I don’t mean merely falling asleep. I mean—” Her mouth went dry. Tell him what you want. You’re a grown woman. She straightened her shoulders. “I mean I want us to make love.”
She thought brief surprise, then interest flickered across his face. His golden brown eyes narrowed slightly, as they had just before he kissed her. “Even better. If you’re sure.”
“I make a few brash decisions, but this isn’t one of them.” She smiled again.
Antoine arrived with a hot stone to put between the sheets. When he left, Aline hurriedly changed into Apollo’s shirt, then climbed into bed, preening like a cat at the delicious warmth. At least she could appreciate certain moments in her upended life.
Apollo shed his clothing and joined her.
She settled against him as if that was where she belonged, pleased that her small frame fit so well against his large one. A rush of serenity and solace flowed over her. Having him beside her was better and longer lasting than any heated stones. Their conflict didn’t lessen her attraction. Just for tonight, she wouldn’t deny herself the chance to appreciate him and her sanguine mood.
“I can’t seem to let go of the idea that I could’ve prevented the battle, though I know it wasn’t my fault Father didn’t accept the king’s offer. For the nonce, I want you to know I’m glad to be here, with you.” She’d never have experienced the perfect touch of his hard body against her, his warmth, strength and compelling scent. She could lie there for hours just noticing and savoring every detail, from the slow rise and fall of his chest to the safety and succor she felt in his arms.
“I’m glad I can bring you some ease in these difficult and troubling times.”
She just couldn’t get enough of the comfort he imbued. If they married, she’d get to enjoy him every night for the rest of her days. At this moment, quiet, peaceful evenings spent with him away from war and politics sounded wonderful. Maybe this could make up for everything she’d thought she wanted and would lose.
“This is your chance to change your mind, Aline. To say no.” Apollo’s voice was low and husky. “If we continue, you’ll no longer be a virgin. I will ask the king to hold to his offer of the barony with you as my wife. But if he doesn’t allow it, harsh consequences could befall you.”
His words chilled but didn’t deter her. The woman she’d been at the chateau didn’t know how to and would’ve been afraid to take risks. The woman that recent hardships had made her had to take risks and chances.
“I understand. My reputation must be ruined already after spending nights alone with you. I’m still not completely certain Philip won’t have me killed. So I want to savor whatever time I may have left. With you.”
He held her tighter. “I’m glad. Glad to hold you, glad for what this night holds.”
Rolling onto his back, he easily lifted her atop him. The renewed meeting of their bodies, every bit of her pressed against his muscled form, made her moan.
“I like that,” he whispered in her ear.
“I’m not too heavy?”
“No, just right. Kiss me.”
Bracing her hands on the mattress, she did. How quickly he’d learned what she liked, how to plunder her mouth and send ripples of need to her core.
He caressed her under his shirt from her waist to her breasts, then cupped them, rubbing the tender peaks. She moaned again.
“I can’t wait. Touch me. He took her hand and slid it down his thigh, slipping beneath her to find his hardness. Like this.” As she took up the rhythm, he groaned.
“I like that, too. And this.” She squeezed gently.
“Good. Though I don’t know how long I’ll last if you keep on.”
“Good,” she repeated. “I want you inside me. Now.”
“As you wish, my lady.” He entered slowly at first, then pushed past her barrier.
Pain speared her, then receded, leaving tantalizing pressure in its wake. Her head fell back as he filled her, pulled out, and filled her anew.
Sheer bliss exploded. Apollo joined her in ecstasy, then held her close.
As he fell asleep beside her, she cherished every deep breath. And wanted to remain awake to listen to all of them and revisit the pleasures of their lovemaking. This man had made her feel joys she hadn’t known were possible. Whatever happened, she’d never forget this night as long as she lived.
The best of her life.
* * *
Once again, they stood in their wedding attire in the king’s tent before the priest as soldiers and her two attendants looked on expectantly.
“The king sends his regrets,” the priest said. “He has other matters to attend to at the chateau.”
She couldn’t prevent a grimace. The French king must be overjoyed as he walked the halls of her erstwhile residence. She had to let that go and focus only on right here, right now.
“But he sent this. I watched him take it off of his finger before he departed.” The priest handed Apollo a gold band with a cabochon sapphire.
“Thank you, Father,” he said.
She should be honored that the king himself was doing so much to ensure that her marriage ceremony kept to some of the traditions, but despite the intimacies she and Apollo had shared, she didn’t feel the joy or surety she’d hoped she would on her wedding day. She reluctantly accepted that she couldn’t, and wasn’t sure she wanted to, avoid marriage. Their lovemaking still resonated, and she wouldn’t say no to more. But binding herself to the enemy scarcely seemed appropriate.
There was something to be said for having decisions made for her. At least lack of choice relieved her of feeling like a failure for making the wrong one. Or a huge mistake.
“And the king has one more surprise for you,” continued the priest. “He can show mercy to the vanquished.”
Her mother and sisters entered, followed by her father and brothers.
Her jaw dropped. Despite their recent defeat at his hands, Philip had allowed her family into his camp to attend her wedding. She wouldn’t worry that what seemed like kindness was a trap and they’d be forced to remain.
Over happy tears, hugs, laughter and relief in the now-crowded hut, Maud said, “We’re so sorry we lost you in the crowd. We turned back at the last minute.”
Maud wore a veil, wimple, and wool bliaut with long, wide sleeves and knotted belt over a tight-sleeved underdress beneath a fur-lined cloak. None of her family looked any worse for wear. Nor had they thought to bring any of her garments or belongings.
Her mother pulled her aside before Aline could introduce her to Apollo. “Look at you! So thin. In our haste
to get here, I regret that I didn’t think to bring your best gown. You’re beautiful, nonetheless. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. How you survived so many privations.
“At the chateau, we were down to meager rations. Fear ran rampant as we had no idea when or if there’d be an attack. The invasion was the most frightening of my life. Not knowing when or if the French would ferret us out, the noise, the fighting….” Maud’s eyes filled with tears.
Aline relaxed. She hadn’t known if she’d ever enjoy her mother’s touch again. They had suffered, too.
“We missed you so,” her mother added.
Did “we” include her father, whose expression was unreadable?
If she hadn’t been so determined to leave, so fleet of foot…she wouldn’t have been separated from her family. She wouldn’t have frozen with the others in the ravine.
She never would have met Apollo.
Aline understood some of her father’s reasons for his treatment of her and the others, and was glad he too had survived the battle, yet she ignored him. Minutes before her wedding, she couldn’t revisit the fear, abandonment and agony his actions, or lack thereof, had wrought. There wasn’t enough time now to resolve all of those feelings. No mere apology would suffice, and she didn’t want to cast any clouds in skies she needed to remain blue.
Her mother seemed as if she wanted to say more, but held her tongue. Because of the presence of the king or her father? Aline burned to know how her mother and father had been getting along.
“Everyone, I would like you to meet Sir Apollo de Norville.”
An odd mix of joy and dismay tumbled through Aline as she continued the introductions, which were awkward to say the least. Their greetings were stiff, and not very cordial. Still, her mother, whom she so resembled, nodded as Apollo bowed, and her sisters’ expressions showed they approved.
Suddenly her mother burst into tears. The priest looked taken aback as her father patted her on the back. Apollo’s expression didn’t change.
Aline wouldn’t allow her mother’s rigid views and insistence on propriety to make matters worse. “Mother, please don’t. What’s important is that we’re all alive and well and you’re here to witness my wedding. I was desolate to think you wouldn’t share this special day with me.” She took her mother’s hand again and whispered in her ear. “Apollo is a good man despite the country of his birth. He rescued me from the cold. He’s been so kind and helpful, and even caring, though he didn’t want to marry an Englishwoman or leave his position as messenger. Who knows? Father might have chosen someone worse.” Tring to make light of the situation improved her mood and brought a slight smile to her mother’s face.
“But you’re being ordered to wed,” her mother spoke softly. “And, though your groom is quite handsome, he’s Norman. Our enemy, who attacked us mere days ago. And only a lord, and newly made at that. Not handed down his title from father to son as it should be.”
“Status and titles no longer matter to me.” The words were hard to say and didn’t ring completely true in her heart, but she had to say them for her family’s sake. She didn’t want them to feel sorry for her or worry about something they lacked the ability to change. And for her sake, and even Apollo’s. “Even if they did, and even if you can’t see past them, it’s not as if either of us can do anything about it. We’re powerless against the king’s wishes. My fate in the French army camp could’ve been much worse. Or I could have died as others did in the ravine. Living in my own, lovely home will more than suffice.”
Where she’d have some control, at least over her household. And she’d make sure a fire kept burning in every chamber, for she’d never allow herself to be cold again.
“I suppose you’re right. There’s no point mourning what I can’t change. Not that women can ever change much.”
Her mother didn’t often bemoan her role. Was she speaking of her life in general, or of recent events? What had happened to those left behind in the chateau? She couldn’t cope with sad news on her wedding day.
“Here.” Her mother unfastened a gold brooch with pearls and rubies interspersed and pinned it on Aline’s gown hear her left shoulder.
“But that’s your mother’s. You wear it every day,” Aline said, surprised the French king’s army had even left it to her.
“I did. You’ll be leaving me. Maybe forever. I want you to have something to remember me and your family by. Your heritage. And so part of me will be close to you every day. I hope that gives us both comfort.”
She put her hand over the gift. “Thank you. I, too, will wear it daily. What’s to happen to all of you?”
“Because of your father’s rank, King Philip is allowing us return to England. Your father is to begin work reinforcing Pontefract Castle.”
Her heart lifted. They’d get to leave this hated land “Great news. West Yorkshire isn’t very far from Cheshire.”
Where her home used to be. She had to move forward.
“I’ll write often.” Tears gleamed in her mother’s eyes. They’d been reunited after their longest separation only to part again in mere hours.
“So will I.” She felt tears gather, but shook her head to clear them.
Apollo put a hand on her shoulder. She tensed. It didn’t feel like a controlling burden, but as if she were no longer alone.
“It’s time.”
Chapter 10
King Philip loved his surprises.
Meeting the family of the soon-to-be wife he barely knew just before the ceremony began and without warning was disconcerting, to say the least. Roger de Lacy. The man who’d refused Aline admittance. But then, Philip’s men had done the same. Maud, surprisingly tall and regal. And Aline’s younger siblings, cheerful and enthusiastic. Fortunately, they didn’t seem tarnished by the siege or attack. Maybe they were too grateful they’d survived and would go free.
Though they’d showered him with gratitude for saving their daughter, he could tell they weren’t overjoyed about what was to come, and Lady de Lacy cried more than he thought a mother would on her child’s wedding day. He appreciated that they didn’t openly convey their displeasure. This day should be as special as possible for Aline.
He hadn’t wanted to intrude on her private moments with her mother, who she hadn’t seen in weeks and wasn’t sure she’d ever see again. But the sooner they were wed, the sooner they could leave.
As everyone took their places in the king’s hut, apprehension nagged like a crow’s continuing caws. Would Aline find a way to prevent their wedding again to show her parents her devotion to England and so she could leave with them? He tried to tamp down any sadness, but he ached for them all. Who would choose a forced wedding with their enemy?
He relaxed his shoulders when her turn came for the vows and she spoke in a cool, calm voice that matched her expression. He couldn’t fault her demeanor, yet a trickle of disappointment ran through him. He’d foolishly hoped that she’d gift him with her beautiful smile at least, rather than mere acceptance. Gladness would have been better still.
But then, he shouldn’t expect her to feel any more than he did. What was that, exactly? He was definitely looking forward to being alone with her again, in their bed. Looking forward to celebrating their wedding night.
Apollo slid Philip Augustus’s ring on her finger. Her cold hand shook in his. He burned to know her thoughts, and wanted to keep hold of her hand to reassure her all would be well. When she tugged slightly, he gave hers a slight squeeze, then let go. She clasped her hands together as if in prayer. For what? Freedom? Happiness?
The sapphire ring looked stunning on her small hand, despite representing just one more item he owed the king, binding him further into his service. Apollo didn’t like being beholden for everything, from bride to position to hearth and home. He had to find a way to make his own mark.
Aline and her family spoke little during the meal of porridge, cheese and eggs, not exactly the wedding feast he was sure she’d have wanted. Her mother b
arely ate, though the quality and quantity had to be better than she’d seen of late. Her father turned so red Apollo feared his head might explode. It couldn’t be easy to sit at his enemy’s table and partake of his food after watching his eldest handed to a man not of his choosing. Or preferred rank or ancestry.
Against his will, her father’s perusal intimidated him. That was a first he didn’t like.
At length he heaved a sigh and stood, and all at the table joined him. “Thank you all for sharing our wedding.”
The effort of putting on a public face would soon end, and he and Aline would learn to make their way as man and wife. Alone, away from the king and the soldiers.
The king chose that moment to arrive. “Bien, you’re still here. I wanted to wish the couple well.”
Her father tensed. Her mother moved to his side.
“I’m here for droit de seigneur,” the king continued. “Or if you prefer Latin, jus primae noctis.”
Every head snapped up, every jaw dropped. Even the king’s soldiers looked astonished. The king wished to exercise his supposed right to sleep with the bride?
He laughed. “Look at all of you! I jest. Not that she isn’t lovely. I wanted to lighten the somber mood. I won’t even require payment of the fine in lieu of having her.” He laughed again, and the others joined somewhat tentatively.
“I bid you all adieu.”
They all bowed and traversed the short distance back to his hut. Which he couldn’t wait to leave.
Aline didn’t weep as she hugged her parents and bid them farewell, but her mother did. Her gaze followed them as they went inside and closed the door. He’d make sure she’d see them again, somehow.
They prepared for the night in silence, as they had the other nights. As if nothing had changed. But everything had. They were husband and wife, bound by God and man.
He didn’t want to pressure her or cause her to fear him, but consummation was essential to make the marriage valid. And he wanted to, badly. The sounds of her moving about his hut as he turned his back heightened his desire.