Joanna said nothing. She felt Elspeth's hands on her shoulders.
"I will help all I can. I will help you, Joanna. For the sake of Hugh, for my grandmother who was once hunted like you, for my grandfather Thomas, who saved her, and for myself."
Confused, Joanna raised her head.
"There is a fable that goes with this gown." Elspeth sat down beside her. "It is said in my family that grandmother Gila put a charm on the silk: that great good fortune should come to the womenfolk in our house if we loaned or gifted the gown to another, a woman who was in greatest need herself."
She smiled, showing a chipped front tooth. "I have a mind for some good luck, so I will gift the gown to you. I know you have need, for I can see it. Forgive me for being blunt, but I sense, too, that you have little time to waste."
She rose to her feet and clapped her hands. At once two pages almost fell into the solar in their haste to obey.
"The lady will bathe here. Tell my maids to come in and the menfolk to keep out."
"Including Hugh?" Joanna asked, as the lads hurried off, bright in their tunics of blue and red, like a pair of hungry kingfishers.
"Hugh will wait with the rest, or answer to me."
The lady Elspeth held open the door for her maids to carry the bathtub out into the great hall, for anyone else to use it if they wished. She nodded to Hugh and Henri, playing dice on the high table. "You may go in now."
"Find the others and tell them to be ready," Hugh told Henri. He was tired of loitering about like a courtier at King John's court. He wanted them to be away to Templecombe, to gird the warrior knights at their own tilting ground.
"Softly, Hugh," Elspeth warned as he strode toward her. "The lady is as balanced as an angel on a pin, but without an angel's wings."
"Hmm." Sometimes Hugh thought Elspeth spoke the greatest nonsense, but she glowered at him so he tried. "I will do my best."
She stood aside and he stalked into the solar.
Joanna has done it. She has turned herself into gold, was his first thought. She shimmered in gold, in a gown that scooped low over her bosom, flared over her hips, nipped about her waist. She held out her hand to him and her arm spilled gold in a rustling whisper. She was the beautiful still point in a river of gold, her face and eyes gleaming.
"My Lady." Never had he meant it more profoundly.
"I am still your alchemist," said the glittering figure. "See? I wear my belt with tassels. Lady Elspeth found me a replacement tassel."
Somehow that absurd human detail was enough to make it possible for him to touch her. He kissed her fingertips, bowing low over her hand. "Unstained for once," he remarked, knowing this would irk her.
"As you say." She was calm: he wondered for a wild instant if she were laced so tight that she had to keep her cool. He missed the golden net for her hair: he liked the contrast; the bright threads against the dark. But the billowing long veil, pink as sunset, was pretty. He was torn between wishing to set her on a dais and adore her, and tug her into his arms.
"Should we not be going? I heard you ordering Henri."
"We have time."
She looked as puzzled as a bewildered angel and he pounced, catching her against him. She felt softer than flower petals and both warm and cool; a trick of the woman and the silk.
"Harem girl," he whispered, and kissed her, grinning as she lanced her tongue into his mouth, jousting with him for a delicious moment, until it seemed she came to her wits.
"We cannot do this here!" she hissed, squirming to pull back from him.
"We can if we are quick," he whispered in return, gathering her still more snugly. “Henri has gone for the men and the lady to her kitchen.”
She stared at him, and then a fierce, determined expression came over her slim face. Next instance, she was dragging him away from the window, whispering as they both tripped on a wolf skin rug, "Here, then, stand here, by the door. It opens inwards, so we shall have warning." She kicked the rug aside.
He was now blocking the door and she was unbuckling his belt. He seized her silken skirts and billowed them upwards, his fingers entering her an instant later and then himself.
"Ooof!" She closed her eyes, her face flushing with fresh pleasure.
"Harem girl, harem girl." He kissed her as he thrust deep within her, laughing as the door creaked behind them. Grabbing her hips he pounded harder, feeling the pleasure explosion building steeply in his loins.
"Hugo!" In her bliss she bucked in his arms, her feet leaving the stone flags as he rode her, her cries becoming sharper, higher. Driving his tongue into her mouth he tasted her orgasm as she yielded utterly, her throbbing parts more lush and luxurious than any silk.
"Mine!" His own force rushed through him, speeding into her. The door shuddered and the world rocked about them and he did not care. He was master of all and Joanna was his, his own harem girl, overwhelmed in his arms.
“Are you well?” He asked later, brushing down her skirts.
She gave him a sweet, dreamy smile. “I am, lord. Very.”
She looked better than well: she was a placid, languid angel with crumpled golden wings, and, madly, he found his desire stirring again.
Which was impossible. They were just in time as it was, for as he guided her back from the door, Henri pounded back into the great hall, shouting, “We are ready, Sir! All done!”
Chapter 27
Joanna rode with Hugh pillion behind her. She tried to think of the Templars, of their meeting with the order, but was distracted and undone by pure sensation. The silk dress seemed to have stimulated her to more passion. All she could think of was when she and Hugh would join again in love.
Perhaps the gown is bewitched, she thought, her hips and the space between her thighs tingling as the silk slid against her like Hugo's tongue and the galloping of Lucifer jolted deep inside her.
What if we are making children by this love-making? she asked herself, but then all she could think of were youngsters with black hair and blue eyes; strong sons and clever daughters. She would teach them to read. She must teach Hugo to read and reward his progress with kisses.
"Is the sun too hot for you, Joanna? We can stop."
She could hear the need in his voice and feel it, hard as a saddle pommel, against her buttocks. A daydream of lust flared through her but she managed to croak, "We have no more time. We must reach Templecombe today."
Hugh kissed the top of her head. "We are already within sight of the combe, as you would know if your eyes were as strong as your heart."
She jabbed at his rock-hard thigh with her fingers. "Instead of taunting, my knight, why not send your men ahead as messengers?"
Then they would be alone, she was about to add, but Hugh was already shouting orders and the road was suddenly filled with dust and flying stones as the troop galloped away. She felt the ground shuddering and then all became still, a thread of birdsong the only break in the silence.
"There." Hugh pointed to a small wicker enclosure off the road; a place where herdsmen kept animals in times of winter flooding. Leaning down from his horse, he untied the hurdle gate and urged Lucifer inside. The stallion whickered softly, then bent his head to a mound of windfall crab apples, clearly left in the pen as fodder.
"Eat all those, boy, and you will be ill," Hugh warned, sliding off the horse's back and leading him away from the tempting pile. He tethered Lucifer by a hawthorn bush and swiftly gathered the horse a few apples and more grass and hay from the surrounding hedgerow.
Joanna looked about. They were in a hollow of landscape and the spring sun was very warm. Above her the sky was as blue as a sparrow's egg, threaded through with a latticework of branches from a stand of wild cherries, apples and black poplars.
The pen, bordered by sturdy wicker hurdles, was filled with packed-down sheep dung, but there was a smooth round oval of stone beneath an old, cracked apple tree those blossoms were just starting to wilt. Hugh swept his cloak over the boulder.
"We are hid
den by the tree," he said, as she alighted from the horse. "You are becoming more nimble at that. Soon you will be riding alone."
Joanna shook her head. "Truly, have we time? Will the Templar Knights not be looking for us, as soon as your men tell them we are coming?"
Hugh shrugged. "No grief to me. I will say Lucifer cast a shoe."
"But to lie to men in holy orders!"
His blue eyes flashed black for an instant. "Why not? They do naught for David, though they are but a two day journey or less from West Sarum! I think to lie is no sin."
Her previous desire was giving way to scruples and hesitation. "We are on a road."
"We are off a road and under a tree." He caught her round the middle and drew her close, unwinding her from her travel cloak. "It is too warm for this when you are not riding and I wish to see you in your pretty gown by sunlight."
She knew by the glint in his eye he meant more than looking. "Hugh, someone may come."
"At this hour, so close to noon? I think not. All folk will be at their board and dining tables." He let her go, stepped back and motioned with his fingers. " Do a curtsey for me, sweet. I like the way you rustle as you move."
"You are wild," she remonstrated, although in truth it was balm to her, to be admired and yes, to be, lusted over. Thomas had lost interest in her almost as soon as he had plundered her virginity. Hugh seemed to want her still, as urgently as she desired him.
Flattered, she spread her golden skirts and swept as low as if he was King John.
"Hey, hey, you will get dirt on your gown." Hugh clasped her elbows and drew her up, to his lips for a swift, tickling kiss. "A lady never bows so far, 'tis her knight that should be grateful."
He cupped her bottom in one of his large hands and tongued her ear close to where her veil was pinned. His act pulsed through her like a shower of sparks.
"I am always grateful."
He traced the length of her thigh with his fingers and the furnace between her thighs glowed hot in answer. She touched him in return, running a hand across his flanks, wishing she could undo his clothes as easily as he always seemed to undo hers.
"My lady."
He kissed the side of her neck.
"Always my lady." Abruptly, he moved sideways and she lost her footing as he coiled a muscular arm about her waist. Before he could guess what he was about, he plucked her from the churned up earth and sheep dung.
"Hugo!" Her arms flailing, she tried to beat his legs, but he ignored her protests, upending her further so her bottom was raised and her head down.
"Such a juicy little rump, tilted at me. I have a mind to enjoy you this way; a lush pleasure for both of us, I warrant."
His other hand dived under her gown and his fingers kneaded her bottom. Dizzy with sensation, she closed her eyes and now she felt the boulder warm beneath her belly. She was draped over the round stone, her face nestled in Hugh's cloak. He had put his cloak over the boulder, she realized, as his fingers pleasured her still more intimately, skimming gently through her folds as a bee might rumple through the heart of a flower. He had planned this.
"Ravisher!" she managed to spit at him, but he chuckled, fingering her more until she mewed with pleasure.
"No other lady but you, Joanna. You give my fancy flight. Hell’s teeth, but you are delectable! Such a pink, round—"
He came into her then, fiercely and strongly, and her last scruple, of being seen, was gone. The golden gown seemed to pillow them both and for an instant she had again a sense of a different time: another knight and his lady had joined in this way, blessed by silk and sunshine.
Chapter 28
She was quiet now, his lady alchemist. Going at a slow canter across a low, wide valley filled with scattered trees, meadowlands and sheep, he suspected that she dozed in his arms and was pleased, feeling very proud of himself.
"I can see smoke," Joanna announced, checking the pinning of her veil with one hand while the other gripped Lucifer's black mane with a vengeance. "What can I hear?"
They were riding toward the main road along a track boarded by a blooming apple orchard on one side and a vast plot of vines on the other. The rows of vines on sunlit slope were being tended by two crouching figures in drab homespun. These gardeners made no sound but the ground thundered like a struck drum.
"Knights, practising gallops and charges," Hugh explained, his blood stirring at the familiar sounds. This was a male world, a world of charge and thrust, a world he understood.
He almost rumpled Joanna's hair but thought better of it. “When we pass this hedge and turn onto the road, you will see them.”
“More horses,” said Joanna, in tones of such disgust he almost laughed, but scraped the lees of his memory instead, recalling the dregs of a single visit here, years ago, with David.
He must never forget that David was imprisoned, when by rights his brother should be here, riding with his brother-knights.
“There is a handsome church,” he added, choking back the useless, black anger that smothered him whenever he thought of David at West Sarum. “And an abbey across the valley and stream.”
Mother of God, I sound like a doting father or husband, pointing out what I know will please her.
He spurred Lucifer and the great horse responded, pricking back his ears and swinging around the corner onto the main road, almost colliding with a great iron-wheeled cart, dragged by mules, that lumbered up the slope toward the middle of the settlement. Smoothly speeding past the cart, Hugh heard the curses of the mule driver as he was struck by a shower of muddy clods from the churned up road.
He grinned. “One back for the traveller. Those iron carts are a devil.”
“At West Sarum they keep me awake at night with their endless clanking. Oh!”
“The war horses grow very weary quickly and must build their strength as their knights do,” Hugh explained, thinking she had spotted the grooms busy tending lathered, steaming mounts close to the road, but she was pointing to a small, round building off to the side of the road, close to a blacksmith’s forge and then a farrier’s forge. Made of wood and thatch, the place that was neither church nor house was topped by a cross.
“The Templars’ presbytery, and I would not point too long,” Hugh warned. “David told me nothing, but ‘tis said they have strange rites in those small chapels.”
“As it is said that Jews eat babies?” Joanna answered quietly, twisting in his arms to give him a steely look beneath her pink veil.
“There are my men.” Hugh was relieved to change the subject, though he acknowledged her hit with a small grunt and a nod. “By the ale-house! I should have guessed.”
His men, sitting outside a low-roofed hovel with a bush on a pole hanging over its dark open door, stood up from their bench, raised their cups and gave him a ragged cheer.
“These knights have no hostelry for guests?” Joanna queried.
“They will have somewhere,” Hugh replied, raising his voice to cover another thundering charge from the common lands running beside the length of the village. “The last time I came here, I did not stay."
She moved again, her backside snug aside him, reminding him of sweeter times. Now she looked over the common fields, although no pigs browsed these meadows. Instead a troop of men on horseback pitched and wove round wicker poles and pens, hacking clumsily at men-shaped targets with their swords. Mud flew like rain over the field and dust and grit made a dirty cloud over the whole common.
He felt her flinch and gripped her with his thighs a little more snugly. "Better a clean stroke," he said softly.
"Or none, Hugo."
"Perhaps." He noticed one of the hunting dogs creeping toward a young groom playing with a spinning top on a cleaner part of the road and shouted at it. The dog whined and fell back.
The smell of fresh bread overcame the stink of sweat, horses and dogs and, like Joanna, he followed his nose, turning his head to check where the cook-house was.
"Something to eat?" he asked her, bu
t a new cry bellowed out from the common field.
"Destroyer comes! The Destroyer is here!"
Joanna's knuckles whitened in Lucifer's black mane. "How do they know you? You wear no armour, or badge."
"They have been told of our coming, and no doubt some recognize my horse," Hugh said grimly. aware, as Joanna was not, that their privacy was over. "Now they will all want free lessons."
"In jousting? But if you do that, surely they will owe you in return?"
The Templars are ever poor payers, Hugh thought, but he did not have time to speak. Already the troop were stampeding toward them in a swirling mass. Some fools had even couched their lances as if they expected him to fight.
"That red-beard has his lance too low, besides," he growled.
"You can show him."
She sounded calm, but her limbs were as cold and stiff as metal. He sensed her terror, though she showed nothing.
My Lady? She is my queen!
"Stop!" he roared, standing up in his stirrups, folding his arms crosswise across Joanna, to shield her. "Are you blind? My lady is upon my horse!"
Joanna clamped her eyes shut, repeating a fragment of an ancient prayer in her mind: all she could remember at that moment. The road seemed to shift beneath her as the world about her shrank to horses galloping; war horses galloping in a dark storm.
Because Hugh was a warrior and she did not want him to think her cowardly, she straightened her shoulders and let go of Lucifer's mane. That simple act made her feel as if she was letting go of a safety rope on a high tower.
She opened her eyes. Hugh's long, strong arms and large, sinewy hands filled her vision. Surrounding his spreading fingers like a nimbus was a cloud of standing dust and the ground about them shook like an old dog scratching for fleas. "Sit, or you will fall!" she hissed, but he shook his head.
"I have no buckler, so I shield you how I can.
"Hold there!" he roared out again. "Any who touches my lady will answer to me!"
She heard horses snorting and skidding and one blood-chilling crunch and a scream as some of the great beasts must have collided. What shrieked out in pain, whether man or beast, she could not tell: as quickly as it sounded the cry was over and a heavy, breathing quiet hung like a miasma over the meadow. A faint bleating of lambs in a hidden valley came to her and a man calling a toast to "Our fair lord Hugh." The rest of the common was silent.
Love and Chivalry: Four Medieval Historical Romances Page 76