When she was finished washing, she changed to a clean shift and pulled her gunna over that, hoping the dampness from her body would smooth some of the wrinkles from the rich crimson samite. She left the sleeves unlaced and sat down on the lone stool in the chamber and began to untangle her hair.
She’d kept it tightly braided while they traveled, and the plaits unraveled into masses of crimpy, wild waves she struggled to tame with her comb. As she was almost finished with the ordeal, Jobert returned. He came in the door and stopped, staring at her as if transfixed.
Edeva hurried to finish. She could feel her nipples tightening as he gazed at her.
He finally went to the fire and began to strip off his clothes. Edeva peeked at him, telling herself that she wanted to see how his wound was healing. Her eyes did not linger long on the red, raw scar, but quickly shifted to his bare chest, with its rippling muscularity and ruddy hair.
He leaned over and splashed water on his face and neck, then took a cloth and began to bathe the rest of his upper body.
Edeva looked away, trying to concentrate on her own task. Her whole being ached with an acute awareness of the man nearby. This was the first time they had been alone since leaving Oxbury, and she wanted him with a craving that near took her breath away.
But there was no bed, and they were supposed to be dressing for an audience with the king. She suppressed her lustful thoughts.
When next she looked, he had removed his hose and was washing his groin. Edeva, hands shaking, went to the other side of the room to fetch her stockings and shoes. She pulled up the silk stockings and secured them with jeweled garters, then slipped on soft scarlet calfskin slippers.
By the time she returned to the stool to replait her hair, Jobert had put on clean hose and was cross-gartering them at his ankles. Edeva sighed in resignation. Of course he was not going to bed her now. They had other, more serious, business to attend to.
She divided her hair into two fat sections and began to wind the middle of one of them with crimson ribbon. “You should have someone to help with your hair.” She looked up and saw Jobert standing over her, green eyes glowing.
“But I have no servant here, so I must do it myself,” she said sharply.
“What of your laces?” His gaze traveled to where her gown hung loose under her arms. “Can I help you with those?”
“In a moment.” She knew she was being short with him, but she resented how he tantalized her and then left her hanging.
She finished the other side of her hair, and then stood, waiting for him to finish her laces. Instead of tightening them, he slipped his hand through the sleeve and cupped one of her breasts. “Jobert,” she chastised, “we cannot do this now. You’ll muss my hair and ruin my gown.”
He leaned over and kissed her deeply while his fingers caressed her breast. Edeva felt an exquisite shiver run own her body and strike lightning between her thighs. She gasped. “Oh, Jobert,” she groaned.
She felt his other hand carefully easing up her skirts. “I cannot endure it, either,” he whispered as he kissed her neck. “I see you; looking so beautiful, so magnificent. And think that you are mine... almost.”
His hand found bare skin. Edeva arched her back, longing for him to... She smothered a moan of satisfaction as his fingers slid between her thighs and stroked the creamy wetness there. “My gown,” she whispered in one last helpless attempt to bring them both back to their senses. His questing fingers found what they sought. He slipped one inside her, while the others stroked silky circles against her cleft.
In seconds, she surrendered. She did not care if he tore her clothes from her in pieces, if she had to go see William in rags! She wanted... oh, how she wanted...
She gave a cry as she felt him lifting her, one hand still between her thighs, the other under her arm. He carried her over to the table and gently put her down. After adjusting her skirts, he kissed her again, long and hard. Then he began to undo his hose.
His shaft sprang out, huge and ready. Edeva gave a whimper of longing. He reached under her again, cradling her buttocks with his fingers as he pulled her to the very edge of the table. “I don’t want you to get splinters in your bottom,” he said. “You’ll have to guide me.”
She took hold of his hot, smooth shaft and placed it against her feminine opening, then spread her thighs as wide as possible. The pressure of him made her wetter and more aroused than ever. With a deep thrust he slid his shaft inside her.
Edeva took a deep breath, almost mindless with the sensation. So deep he was, stretching her inner sheath to the limit. His fingers dug into her hips, easing her body around his. “Touch yourself,” he whispered. “Open for me, Edeva, lest I should die of delight.”
Shamelessly, she obeyed. She could feel herself stretches around his rigid manhood, and with tentative fingers she sought the sweet spot he had revealed to her. The touch of her own hand made her dissolve into rippling madness.
The pressure eased, and she could feel Jobert begin to move, using his hips to thrust into her. Short, rapid strokes that made them both bounce against the table. Through a haze of spiraling pleasure, she heard him cry out, “Edeva, my love. Edeva!”
She grabbed his shoulders, hanging on for dear life a they both neared the precipice. One final, pulsing thrust flung them both over the edge.
They rested, faces pressed together, bodies still joined. Jobert kissed her cheek. “Jesu, I waited so long for this. ’Twas hell these last few days, holding you, seeing you, and not being able to love you.”
“I did not know you wanted me.”
Jobert gave an incredulous laugh. “Wanted? Oh, if you only knew. I have been in an agony of wanting.”
Jobert released her. Edeva stood and smoothed her skirts. Moisture from both of them trickled down her legs. She went to the wash water and used a cloth to wipe herself. “Jobert, before we go to William, please tell me what your business with him is. It makes me uneasy not to understand the purpose of this trip.”
Jobert began rearranging his clothing. When he did not answer, Edeva grew irritated. “Tell me, Jobert. I deserve that much.”
He found the richly embroidered tunic she had taken out of the pack and shrugged it over his shoulders. “’Tis complicated, Edeva. Mayhaps we should wait to discuss this until after I have seen William.”
“Nay, we will settle this now! If you won’t talk to me, I‘ll refuse to go with you! I will walk back to Oxbury alone if I have to.”
He looked at her, worry writ clearly on his features. “You have that right, although I would send some of my men with you for protection.”
His words sent a blow to her stomach. “What do you mean—‘I have that right’?”
“If William denies me permission to wed you, I have no claim on you, Edeva.”
The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet. “You mean to ask William if you can wed me?”
He nodded. “I thought ’twould be a simple thing, a mere formality. You are the heiress of Oxbury. It makes perfect sense for me to wed you and claim by law what is already mine by the king’s decree. But now I fear that I have fallen out of favor with William and will lose everything.”
“Why? What have you done?”
Jobert shook his head, looking more distressed than ever. “There is a Norman lord who wants to see me destroyed. I have had news that he has gone to William and accused me of dishonoring his daughter.” A muscle twitched in his jaw “He implies that I took her maidenhead and ruined her for marriage.”
Edeva stared in shock. To think of Jobert dishonoring a young woman seemed preposterous. Why, he had not even ravished her, but waited until she came to his bed willingly. “Why does he hate you?” she asked. “Is it the result of a conflict between your families, or have you done something to earn his animosity?”
“I had a tendre for his daughter, ‘tis true. I even stole a kiss from her years ago, but ’twas no more than that. If Damaris chose to become a bride of Christ, ’tis not because of me.”
“You loved her?” Her voice came out in a breathy whisper.
“I thought I did. I carried a lock of her hair close to my heart for nigh on five years. I kept my hair long because she once said she liked it that way.” His eyes met hers. “’Twas but a silly fancy, a boy’s infatuation.”
Edeva nodded, wondering if she believed him. Five years. “And because of this... ‘infatuation,’ her father bears you a bitter grudge?”
Jobert paced across the room and back. “That is the way of it. He discovered that one kiss, and would not listen to reason. He threw me into an oubliette, told me I would rot there. Mayhaps I would be there still—or my bones would—if my father had not petitioned Duke William for my freedom.”
“What is an oubliette?” Although she asked the question, Edeva already guessed it was someplace dark and dank and confined. That was why Jobert had rescued her, and why he had moved Alnoth and Withan to the stables. He could not bear to think of anyone suffering as he had.
“An underground prison.” His green eyes stared straight at her, stricken by ugly memories.
“How long were you imprisoned?”
He paced back to the other end of the room, rigid with tension. “A month, mayhaps longer. The whole time I was there, I thought of her, of Damaris. How good she smelled. How lovely and sweet she was. She kept me alive.”
The blade twisted deeper in Edeva’s belly. He denied loving this Damaris, but ’twas clear he had. Did he still?
Edeva could imagine her. Delicate and dainty, with perfect white skin that had never known the heat of the sun or the travails of work. The Flemish seamstress, Hawise, had told her about the ladies of the Norman courts, of their pampered way of life.
She looked down at her own hands. The summer gold had begun to fade from her skin, but calluses from driving a needle through heavy fabric marked her thumb and forefinger.
He traversed the room once more. “When I got out, I vowed I would never again be at another man’s mercy. I might die in battle, but I would not swear to any except Lord William. He raised his gaze to hers. “When I fought at Hastings, I fought for my freedom. For land of my own, and the power to choose my own destiny.”
“And William gave you that. He gave you Oxbury.”
“But now I fear to lose it.” Jobert moved closer to her “I also fear to lose you. If he will not allow me to wed you, what will I do? Keep you as my concubine?”
Aye, she longed to answer, better that I be your leman than nothing at all.
His fingers came up to brush the corner of her mouth, then he sighed and turned away. “I meant for you to dazzle them with your beauty, your elegant garments. Now, I wonder if I will not make some other man covet you... and Oxbury as well. If the king should believe Valois...”
“I will not go,” she said. “I will stay here while you plead your case.”
“Nay. I want you with me.”
“But you said...”
He approached once more and took her face in his hands. “Possession of a piece of land can aid a man in keeping it. It might also be so with a woman, at least with a man like William.” He brought one hand down to press against her waist. “If your belly was already swollen with my babe, I know he would give you to me. He abhors the thought of any child being born outside of wedlock and suffering as he did.”
“I have hopes,” Edeva whispered.
“We shall have to try harder.” He leaned over to kiss her neck. “By the saints, when I see you like this, I want to...” He whispered some foreign word in her ear, making her blush.
“Jobert.” She pulled away, shaking with reawakened desire. “If you start that, ’twill be terce ere we even set out!”
He nodded. “Mayhaps I should call in the innkeeper’s wife to do your laces.”
“You do not trust yourself?” she teased.
“Nay, not when they are so close to your delicious breasts.” His gaze moved lower, and Edeva felt her nipples grow hard. How could this be, that she ached for him so soon after their wild joining?
“Have you ever done that before?” She nodded toward the table.
“Nay, never.” His smile was breathtaking. “With most other women, I would fear to hurt them.”
“But not with me?”
“Nay, I know you can take every inch of me. Is that not how the English measure it?”
She blushed again, even more furiously. “Jobert, call the innkeeper’s wife, lest we never get ready!”
“Nay, I will undo your laces. If I concentrate on what is ahead of us, my mood will grow sober and my hands steady.”
Edeva stood still while he laced up the sides of her gown and then pulled the laces tight so that her breasts pushed up against the square neckline. “Is this the Norman fashion?” she asked.
“I know not,” he said. “But I would have us use every weapon we possess to gain William’s favor.”
“He is a lecher?”
“Not at all. Indeed, he is said to be the most faithful of men, never straying from his wife’s bed, even when separated from her for months. But,” he leaned to straighten one of the tight sleeves, “William does have eyes in his head. And your beauty might sway his opinion toward our request.” He stepped back. “Now for the jewels.”
He brought the leather bag from the pack and helped Edeva put on the necklace made up of three pieces of gold-work decorated with dozens of garnets and the matching wristband around her arm. “There is a ring also,” he said.
“Enough,” she laughed. “I already feel like a maypole, hung with ribbons at Beltane. If there are more baubles, mayhaps you should wear them.”
“Impertinent wench.” He slapped her on the behind. She wiggled her hips provocatively, and he grabbed her and kissed her hard. “Now,” he said, releasing her, “we must go.”
It took them near the whole morning to reach Westminster. They road through the city, with its narrow lanes and crowds of people, and finally came into open green space. After passing scattered farmsteads, many still abandoned and unrepaired from William’s army’s last visit, they reached a small village. The rain had stopped, and a hazy fog drifted in and out. They did not sight the abbey built by Edward the Confessor until they were almost at the gates.
They were waved in without question, and once inside, Edeva could see why Westminster was not more closely guarded. The place crawled with knights, looking more like an army camp than a holy house. Edeva’s unease returned. She did not see any other women, or Saxons, and she could not help wondering if Jobert had been wrong to bring her.
In the courtyard, Jobert slid down from the horse and said, “I’m going to see if Girard’s word is good, if they will let us in,” he told her.
Before she could think to respond, he told Hamo and Roald to look after her, and disappeared into one of the buildings.
The horse snorted and pawed the ground, and Edeva went rigid. What if her mount decided to run away with her on its back? She leaned forward and said something soothing. Amazingly, the beast quieted, and Edeva turned her mind to other worries.
Her thoughts whirled around in circles. Jobert wanted to marry her. He seemed to care for her. But he had loved a Norman woman, might love her still. And William might not let them wed anyway. He could strip Jobert of Oxbury and give it to another man and she might be given to another man as well. But she would kill anyone who tried to touch her. She would not accept another man as her husband. She would not!
Her dread grew. She was back at Oxbury before the Normans arrived, determined to kill them all, determined to return her life to the way it had been before her father went to fight at Stambridge and everything changed, everything went horribly awry...
“Jesu, lady, are you well?”
She looked over to see Hamo staring at her. “You’re white as bleached linen, lady. What’s wrong? Are you ill?”
Edeva nodded. Her stomach churned. She felt lightheaded and dizzy.
Hamo dismounted and grabbed her by the waist and p
ulled her off the horse. She stood trembling next to him. “I’ll fetch one of the monks,” Hamo said.
“Nay, I’ll be well in a moment.” She took a deep breath, trying to breathe deeply and evenly. She must get over this panic. Jobert depended on her.
“You’re certain you can stand?”
She nodded. “When Jobert returns, don’t tell him of this,” she said.
Hamo regarded her thoughtfully, then nodded and moved away.
Jobert arrived in a few moments. “He’ll see us,” he told her. “I don’t know what sorcery Girard worked, but we are to have an audience with the king of England.”
Jobert took her arm, and they went into the largest of the buildings. Inside, the anteroom was crowded with richly dressed Normans. They whispered to each other as she and Jobert passed. She caught the word “Saxon” and tensed. Jobert rubbed her arm soothingly.
At another doorway, they paused and waited.
The whispering grew louder. “Jesu, look at those tits... do you suppose her quim is gold, too?” Edeva felt Jobert’s tension, saw his hand go to his blade. But he did nothing. Obviously, he dare not challenge anyone in this setting.
After an interminable time, while Edeva tried not to listen to the hushed words and guffaws, a squire came out. He nodded at Jobert, but when Edeva started forward, the youth shook his head. Jobert gave her a desperate look. Edeva forced herself to indicate that he should go on without her.
She waited, standing stiffly, holding her head high.
“’Tis a Saxon queen.”
“Yea, and I would like to ‘conquer’ her.”
The jeers echoed mockingly in Edeva’s ears. But she noted that the men kept their voices low. They did not want their crude banter reported to the king.
She raised her chin a notch higher and fingered the extravagant gold and garnet necklace. Let them make jest. She was proud of who she was. Daughter of Leowine, a loyal thegn to King Harold, and a descendant of Alfred, the greatest English king of all.
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