Joining

by Johanna Lindsey

  It was a kiss fraught with passion, frustration, and … tenderness—a unique combination that didn’t so much frighten as intrigue. It was the molding he was doing to their bodies that was frightening, because that was what was setting her senses to rioting this time. And it was a continuous molding and positioning with his hands, so that it seemed he almost rubbed her against him.

  Sweet Jesu, the things this made her feel were nigh impossible to contain, even more impossible to resist. The sensations were wonderful, deep within her, spiraling, churning, clamoring to culminate. Without even realizing she did it, her arms went around his back.

  He took note of it, though, and must have assumed a complete surrender, for immediately she was lifted, then carried. This brought her to her senses right quickly, reality jolting her and setting off a panic.

  “Why do you carry me?” she gasped out.

  “’Tis quicker.”

  “Quicker for what?” “To get where we are going.” “Which is where? Nay, never mind where. Just put me down.” “Aye, I intend to.”

  He did, but not on her feet. The bed he laid her on was soft and she sank deep into it when his body came to rest on top of hers. Her panic soared when she realized she could not budge the huge weight that kept her pinned there. Yet in no more than five minutes, mayhap less time than that, it slowly receded and then was gone, due to a combination of the sensual kissing that Wulfric began almost immediately, and the strategic adjustment of his weight.

  Actually, it was his weight that won the skirmish for him, not because it kept her there beneath him, which it did easily enough, but because of what it caused her to feel. It was that incredible new sensation she had felt when he had held her close, yet amplified tenfold. It made her want to put her arms around him and pull him even closer to her. It made her want to return his kisses. It made her want …

  As before when he had kissed her, her thoughts deserted her altogether, leaving only the feelings as each new sensation made itself known. And he provoked so many! First with his body, as he moved it subtly against her until she was gasping and moaning under his kisses, then with his hands as he began to caress her.

  There was no chilling air against her skin to give her warning when he lifted her skirts, because of the leggings she wore under them. So she was unaware that he had even done so until she felt the heat of his hand on the bare skin of her belly. It was there only briefly, though, for quickly did it move lower until …

  It was the most incredible feeling as his fingers slid between her legs. She had a vague notion that he shouldn’t be doing so, but like her other thoughts, the notion didn’t stay long. His hand did, though. It was so intensely pleasant as his fingers moved slowly against her there, so relaxing, yet not relaxing, so nice. But then suddenly a tension was added, came unexpectedly, a coiling, a gathering, and in the end, an exquisite bursting …

  There was a cough. When that produced no response, some throat clearing was added, then another cough, much louder, which was finally heard.

  Wulfric swore most foully. The weight left Milisant. It still took several more moments for her to realize there was someone else in the room with them. When she opened her eyes, she found Guy de Thorpe standing near the door to his own chamber—that was where Wulfric had carried her—nonchalantly examining his fingernails.

  She probably could have cooked something on her face, it exploded with such heat. She had never been so mortified as she was in that moment. And rather than stay and endure such shame for even another second, she shot off the bed and straight out the door, without a word or another glance toward Wulfric’s father.

  Nor did her embarrassment lessen after she returned to the hall and was forced to tell Lady Anne that her son had distracted her from her errand. The embarrassment just grew worse the more she thought of what she had been doing, and what Guy de Thorpe must think of her now. And there was no excuse she could offer, even for her own benefit. She had not protested overmuch, what Wulfric had been doing to her. Far from it. In the end, she had returned his kisses and let him have his way with her—and enjoyed every moment of it.

  Twenty-nine

  “Your timing, Father, leaves much to be—lamented,” Wulfric grouched as soon as Milisant’s racing footsteps could no longer be heard.

  “Verily, I thought the timing was rather fortuitous myself, considering you have another week ere you have the church’s blessing to dally as you just were.”

  Wulfric snorted. “Spare me any lectures you would not care to hear yourself.”

  Guy chuckled at that reply. “No lectures. Nay, ’tis just lucky for you that I was the one to open that door, rather than your mother, or neither of us, I am sure, would have heard the end of it. What the devil could you have been thinking, to bed the lass in here?”

  Which was when Wulfric finally blushed. He hadn’t exactly cared where he bedded her, as long as it was in a bed near to hand. It was disconcerting, though, to realize that he hadn’t cared. When had he ever been so thoroughly thoughtless in such a matter? Never, that he could recall.

  She made him forget himself, whether in anger or passion. She made him overlook place, and time, and consequence. What was it about her that could so rattle good common sense? Even if he could figure that out, it would not change the fact that he behaved most erratically when he was around her. It wouldn’t change the fact, either, that he only had to see her now, even if across a crowded room, to want her. And that fact was the hardest to deal with.

  Another week until the joining? At the moment it seemed like an eternity.

  To his father, standing there awaiting an answer, he said, “’Twas thoughtless, aye, but there was not much thought involved—if you know what I mean. I was looking for you. She was on an errand for Mother. ’Twas not intentional, that we should meet up here.”

  Guy nodded in understanding. After all, what man had not been carried away by passion at one time or another in his life, particularly when it was unexpected, rather than a planned seduction?

  So Guy let the subject pass. “Was it of import, the reason you sought me?”

  “Nay, not really,” Wulfric replied with a careless shrug to belie just how important it actually was—to him anyway. “Merely a curiosity.”

  Guy raised a brow when he didn’t continue with an explanation. “Well?”

  “Who do you know who could be described as a gentle giant’?”

  After a moment of thought, Guy replied, “King Richard, of course, was considered a giant at well over six feet, but gentle?” He gave a short laugh.

  Wulfric shook his head. “Nay, not Richard, and not someone no longer among us.”

  “Ahh, well, my vassal Ranulf Fitz Hugh could also be termed a giant, and many do call him so. Verily, aside from Lionheart, I have never known anyone as tall as Ranulf is. But again, gentle? Ranulf made his living by the blade ere he became my vassal through marriage to Reina of Clydon. And what man of war can be called ‘gentle’?”

  “Gentle would be a matter of opinion, I wouldst suppose. But Fitz Hugh is too old.”

  Guy snorted at that, insulted on Ranulf’s behalf. “He is in his prime—”

  Wulfric waved a dismissive hand. “Nay, I do not mean old as in old, just too old for who I am looking for. Someone more my age?”

  Guy frowned at that point and asked, “What need you of a giant?”

  Wulfric hedged with the reply, “I have no need of one, I merely heard of one mentioned, and found myself curious as to who he might be.”

  “Why do you not ask the one you heard mention him?” Guy advised.

  An excellent suggestion, but the last place that Wulfric was like to get an answer, which was why he grumbled, “If that were an option, I would have done so. Bah, never mind. As I said, ’twas merely curiosity. It is a contradictory description, after all, as you just pointed out—gentle and giant make an odd combination.”

  Guy chuckled. “Now you have me just as curious, so if you do discover who this gentle
giant is, I wouldst like to know myself.”

  Later, after finding out if the ice would break on his old swimming hole in the east woods—it did—Wulfric took his time returning to the castle. There was nothing like a dip in frigid water to clear one’s thoughts—and passions.

  The storm had yet to abate, though the wind had settled down for the time being, leaving only a soft flaking of snow that was little more than a nuisance. The white blanket on the ground kept the path from being totally dark, despite the absence of a moon. And the torch-fire off in the distance was an easy beacon to follow, though he did so absently, his thoughts occupied still with discontent, Milisant Crispin and her “gentle giant” at the center of it.

  After Raimund had repeated the conversation he’d had with Milisant’s sister, Wulfric didn’t doubt that Jhone had lied about knowing who her sister had given her heart to—and that the twins obviously felt the need to protect this man. However, that made it more imperative that Wulfric discover who he was. If there was no chance of his ever meeting him, then there would be no need to hide his identity. So obviously it was possible that he might someday have dealings with the man, not knowing who he was, and that Wulfric found intolerable.

  He had not realized he had ambled so far afield until the torch-fire became a campfire instead, and he was almost upon it. There were three men huddled there for the warmth. He did not hesitate to approach them, sure that he had not wandered so far that he had left Shefford lands.

  “What do you here when there is a castle near where you could have sought hospitality for the night?” Wulfric asked when he drew up his stallion in front of them.

  They had stood up, all three, as soon as he had been noticed. They had waited for him to speak, though, warily watching him, hands near the hilts of their blades. That was not unusual. They knew him not, after all, and though he seemed alone, many an ambush had been laid by sending in one man as a distraction.

  One of the three was quick to volunteer, “We are not poachers, m’lord.”

  They had the look of mercenaries, which was why Wulfric said, “Be at ease, man. I had not thought so. A poacher tends to go home when the sun sets.”

  “We are merely passing through these lands,” another thought to mention. “We left the road to make camp, as a caution against road thieves.”

  Wulfric nodded. That was plausible enough and practiced by many. Also, strangers to the area wouldn’t know that thieves feared to operate on Shefford land. Of course, there were King John’s enemies who might want to bedevil Shefford simply because Shefford was still loyal to the king. Yet his father had mentioned no such problems.

  So he took them at their word. “If you are looking for work, Shefford would have none to offer you, yet on a night like this, spreading your pallet near a fire under a roof wouldst be preferable, would it not?”

  It was a test. That he did not get an immediate answer led Wulfric to his first suspicion, that the three men were not what they seemed after all. His instincts alerted, he was forced to give them a closer look.

  The two who had spoken appeared to be of peasant stock, but the third was a large, handsome brute with a look of keen intelligence. There was also a condescending air about him that said clearly he thought he was in no danger, that he was sure he could take Wulfric if necessary. Usually when a man felt that way, he was either stupid—or so expertly skilled that he was right. Wulfric wondered if he would ever find out in this one’s case.

  Possibly, though apparently not tonight, for the man made an effort to correct the blunder their silence had caused, saying now, “A roof and fire wouldst be appreciated. We had heard Shefford was closed to travelers, which is why we did not expend the effort to try their hospitality. Are you sure they make exceptions due to the weather? We would not care to break camp here only to be turned away at their gate.”

  “I can assure you entrance.”

  “And who would you be?”

  “Wulfric de Thorpe.”

  “Ah, son of the great earl himself,” the man said with a smile. “’Tis a pleasure, my lord. Your reputation precedes you.”

  “Does it?” Wulfric replied skeptically. “If you are coming, be quick about it. I have been out here long enough to be feeling the cold myself now, so I am sure you are as well.”

  They did make haste now and returned to Shefford with him. But whereas he would have merely told the guard he turned them over to to see to their comfort and their departure in the morn, he now told the fellow to have them followed at a discreet distance. He wanted to be assured now that they did indeed leave Shefford lands on the morrow.

  He could have wished his suspicions had been groundless, though. Yet were they proven correct when the man who was sent to follow them the next day did not return, and after an extensive search, was found half buried in the nearby woods, his throat cut. The three men were not seen again, though the patrols were given their description and were ordered to apprehend them on sight.

  Wulfric even added a bonus for their capture, chagrined as he was that he had not seen to the matter himself. But if their leader was as intelligent as he had seemed, Wulfric doubted they would be found. Unfortunately, he also doubted they had left the area.

  Thirty

  The guests began arriving. King John had been invited, but no one actually expected him to come. Thus it was a surprise when his huge entourage was seen approaching Shefford five days before the wedding.

  Having the king of England as a guest could be viewed as an honor or a disaster. If he only stayed a day or two, it was usually an honor. If he stayed longer, though, it was nearly always a disaster, since stores would be utterly depleted, leaving a castle hard-pressed to feed its own people until the next growing season.

  That John was going to be at Shefford at least five days due to his early arrival, mayhap longer, might have put a crimp even in a demesne the size of Shefford, if the earl hadn’t planned well in advance, and had many holdings to draw from. Extra stores had been shipped in from townships as far away as London, and his many vassals had contributed from their own stores as well.

  The castle huntsmen and falconers had also beert kept busy in the prior weeks, so there was an abundance of smoked and salted meats available. There would be food aplenty. The only problem being that each meal needed to be lavish to impress someone of John’s stature.

  To that end, Lady Anne would be using more of her precious store of spices than she’d counted on, yet she did not begrudge the need. Her husband might bemoan the fact that the king would be in residence, but Anne was delighted that it was so, for with John came the highest-ranked ladies in the lands, including the queen, and naturally, entertaining gossip.

  Milisant might have been excited to be meeting the king for the first time if she were not in a constant state of panic as her wedding got closer and closer to becoming a fact. And that her father had yet to arrive, or even send word of when he would, only increased it.

  She was afraid he had no intention of showing up, which would be the easiest way for him to avoid sticking to their bargain. He had given her a month’s grace, yet he hadn’t wanted to, and he had been confident that she would change her opinion about Wulfric during that time. However, he wouldn’t really want to take any chances about this. If he didn’t come, his reasoning could be that she was there, the groom was there, and the groom’s parents would see the wedding accomplished, which was what everyone wanted—except her … well, and except for the groom.

  Actually, she wasn’t so sure about the groom anymore, not after he had nearly made love to her that night in his parents’ chamber. That would have put an end to any hope of avoiding their joining. She knew it. He had to know it as well. And even before that, he had been behaving as if he were now completely resigned to having her for wife.

  He might still wish it were otherwise, yet was it obvious that he was no longer expecting something to prevent it. But then he could afford to give up. A marriage, after all, would not prevent a husband f
rom seeking love, as well as happiness, elsewhere, whereas a wife could not do the same—if she did not want to find herself killed in a jealous rage or locked away in some tower for the rest of her life, which in some cases just might be preferable.

  The wife had no choices. The husband had as many as he cared to pursue. Yet another reason for Milisant to rail against the despised female body that she had been born into.

  John’s arrival brought all this to mind again. And worse, as they watched John ride through the portcullis that day, Jhone pointed out that the king’s presence nearly made the wedding mandatory. After all, he was there to witness a joining. To not have one now … How could that be explained, without making one of their two families appear utter fools whom the whole country would soon hear about?

  Could Milisant do that to her father, or to Lady Anne, for that matter, whom she had become so fond of? Yet what was the alternative? To accept the brute. To accept her every enjoyment henceforth being curtailed by a husband who took pleasure in gainsaying her. Nay, she could not. There still had to be a way to escape the shackle awaiting her.

  Milisant was officially presented to the royal couple that evening before the meal. Jhone saw to it personally that she was dressed befitting the occasion. The cumbersome bliaut and chemise of rich royal blue velvet were as heavy as the dread weighting her shoulders. Yet the queen remarked on their beauty—the sisters were presented together—which at least pleased Jhone.

  The queen herself was an amazing sight. It had been rumored that she was a woman whose beauty was beyond compare. To find that the rumor was indeed fact was disconcerting, and led most people to simply stare, utterly bemused by such radiance. Even Milisant, who put little store in such things as appearances, was impressed. But then she was also impressed by King John.