By Right of Arms

by Robyn Carr

  His hands, gentle on her body, stirred her. His mouth, warm and moist and insistent, lured away her fears, and the demon desire ruthlessly possessed her. With a moan of despair, she allowed her arms to embrace him and she returned his kisses. Her breasts firmed eagerly under his hand and her body rose to his with a will of its own.

  “Hyatt,” she breathed in a sob, “do not do this to me. Do your worst and be gone.”

  “Our life need not be all pain, chérie …”

  “I beg you,” she cried. “Do not shame me so. Have done.”

  His laughter was soft and mocking. “A husband’s right,” he murmured.

  “Right of arms,” she answered him.

  “Do I hurt you, petite? I would have better than your hatred … if only here … if only in my bed …”

  She sobbed, but her mouth met his and her body strained toward him. She felt his hand gently part her legs and she despised his smooth experience. Better he should brutally force her than to throw her own weakness at her in this way. Her response gave lie to her earlier rejections.

  Drifting, helpless in the wild sensations his touch brought, she contemplated the many women he must have loved. Thousands, she thought distractedly. He knew how to arouse, he knew the art of sweet torment. She knew nothing of this intimacy and could do naught but float in the rapture of his carnal skill. She longed for the end of this torture and felt it near as his gentle tempting was replaced with eagerness. His hands began to demand roughly, his body was hot with urgency as he entered her. She gasped as the pain, as sharp and searing as any dagger, flooded her womb and spread through her. Her eyes clouded with tears and she could barely see Hyatt’s face as he rose above her. He loomed over her, motionless and astonished. As her vision slowly cleared, she could see the shock in his eyes. She turned her face from him and quietly wept.

  His fingers gently brushed her hair from her face. He carefully lowered himself, moving with great temperance, but the pain was no more and neither was the hunger. Aurélie’s struggle with shameful desire was gone, for his startled discovery left her listless. She neither aided nor discouraged him, but passively let him have his way.

  It was a long while before he eased his weight from her, and she rolled onto her side. He did not completely release her, but curved his body around her back, raising himself on one elbow to look down at her profile. His hand casually toyed with her hair.

  “You might have saved yourself much misery, had you told me.”

  “What difference?” she flung. “Would it have delayed you?”

  “Nay,” he said softly. “But there are certain remedies …”

  She turned abruptly and looked at him. “You would not have believed me.”

  He laughed a bit ruefully, shaking his head. “Even now I do not believe it.”

  She rolled away from him again, this time trying to put some greater distance between their naked bodies. His hand was quick to find her hip and draw her back. “Aurélie,” he said, again the master of the smooth but commanding tone. “Whatever tragedy marks your past, you may bury it now along with your Giles. I share your secret, chérie. I don’t know what Giles was to you, but I know he was not a husband. You have one now, and I shall remain. You must not expect me to show great patience with your anger and hate.”

  “I expect nothing,” she wept.

  He gently nuzzled her neck. “In that event, my lovely Aurélie, you will be very surprised.”

  Chapter Four

  Aurélie heard the reigning cock of the yard crow and warily opened her eyes. The curtains were yet drawn in the room and there was a suspicious absence of morning chill, but she lay alone in the bed. She rose slightly and turned. Hyatt had pulled a chair near to the bed and sat there, one foot casually hoisted up onto the straw mattress as he silently observed her. He wore his chausses, leather boots, and a linen shirt, holding of cup of some steaming brew in his hand. It looked as though he had been awake for a long while, for the fire was stoked and his eyes were clear.

  “Good morning, my lady,” he said softly.

  She settled back against the pillows again and pulled the covers up to her neck.

  “I was going to wake you in a moment, for the castle will be astir shortly. I have noticed that your people rise with the rooster at dawn.”

  “Have you been awake a long time?” she questioned.

  He laughed ruefully. “You have inspired great thought, Aurélie. You, and your keep, are full of surprises.”

  She felt the color come to her cheeks, but kept her eyes fixed on his just the same. “Do you say that you had no idea what you conquered, sir knight?” she asked with no small amount of sarcasm.

  He leaned forward toward her, a frown of puzzlement wrinkling his handsome brow. He firmly planted both feet on the floor and leaned his elbows on his knees, holding his steaming cup in both hands. “If you wish to address me formally, lady wife, you may assume my lordship. When the villeins are settled and word of this occupation is delivered to Edward, I will carry full title in his name. Yea, I will be your lord.” He took a sip from his cup. As he swallowed, his eyes burned into hers. “What was Giles to you?” he asked flatly.

  “My husband; my beloved,” she replied without hesitation.

  “Nay,” he said quietly. “Whatever love you had for him did not bind you in wedlock. Why did you play me false? Was the truth so painful?”

  She felt the sting of tears threaten, but forced herself to face him with strength. “I do not expect anyone to understand what I felt for my husband,” she said defensively, hearing the tremor in her own voice. “That I loved him deeply is absolute. The consummation of our marriage was delayed …”

  “Delayed? It is reasonable to shelter and protect a child bride, and I was told you were very young when delivered here. But, for twelve years? Aurélie, do you deceive yourself even as you attempt to deceive me?” He shook his head as if he pitied her. “Had you told me the truth, I might have dealt with you differently than I did.”

  She could bear no more and turned away from him. She did not understand how or why she had failed with Giles; she could not explain it to Hyatt, of all people. She felt his weight press down the bed and a hand on her shoulder turned her back to look at him again.

  “I pity your grief, but, madame, I do not know what you grieve.” His brows were drawn together in sheer bafflement. His voice was smooth and quiet. “Was it a brother you had in Giles? A friend? What things did he do for you that made you love him so? From all accounts he was a weak and incompetent leader, and there are many insinuations that he was strange. Was he kind? Gentle? I know he did not keep you safe, make you wealthy, or give you pleasure in bed. What, lady?”

  “Surely, Hyatt, I cannot expect you to understand, if you think that wealth and carnal pleasure are the only things a pure woman desires,” she said, her tears running down her temples and into her hair.

  Hyatt shook his head and leaned away from her slightly. “Had I known your circumstances, I might have proceeded with you in other wise. But it is done. Perhaps one day I will understand what you felt for your Giles and can offer proper sympathy for your loss. For now, I would have you know that I was not temperate in my plans, for I thought you were a woman of experience, a widow true.”

  “Do you seek my forgiveness, Sir Hyatt?” she asked sarcastically.

  He did not respond to the insult, but seemed to take it in stride. “The marriage is necessary to combine our houses and perhaps unite opposing forces … unless you think it better, more honorable, to execute those who cannot abide a change in rule. But never mind that decision, Aurélie. You will find me willing enough to offer apologies when I am wrong. This once, at least, you were wrong to withhold the truth. I am afraid you will have to bear the burden of it.

  “Now, let us forget Giles and think of the troubles we should sort out. First, soldiers of the Sire de Pourvre are still held, some of them bound. You may be of some help in deciding which of those might, in time, swear fealty to
me and which must be banished. If you seek to house traitors, there will be more bloodshed, and that is useless to us all. I have brought a mighty army, and they do not relax. There is no chance you or any of your remaining forces can overthrow me. I expect you to look to those who are held prisoner and make a judgment of their worth.

  “Second, I have a son and he is here in your hall with his mother. That will be difficult for you, I imagine, but he must remain, and the woman tends him to my satisfaction.”

  “Your whore resides in your wife’s house?” she asked, appalled.

  He sighed heavily and returned to his chair. “It is unusual, I admit. But the child is valuable to me. He is my only one. He is my firstborn son regardless of what your womb may yield us. But I assure you, I shall be fair with our children. If it is easier for you, you might imagine that I am likewise widowed and the child is the product of an earlier union.”

  “Do you share your whore’s bed in my house? Will there be many bastards running about?”

  Hyatt smiled leisurely. He propped his foot on the bed again. “Do you ask me not to, Aurélie, my beloved?” he questioned with humor. She turned her face sharply away, her cheeks burning again at the sound of his amused laughter. “ ’Tis good that you want me, but I realize I have not earned such devotion yet. You shall have your pleasures in time, chérie. I shall prove a decent mate.”

  “My God,” she moaned, keeping her face turned away.

  She felt his hand on her hair, gently squeezing the full softness of it. His voice was soft and seductive. “I did not expect to marry a virgin. I did not intend it. But I will admit to only you that I find great pride in this. You served my pleasure well and I rest easier knowing that if a child is forthcoming, I need not question the sire.”

  She turned her head sharply, the action causing him to tug her hair inadvertently. Her eyes blazed beneath the tears. “My God, Hyatt, does Satan himself feed you the tender words you speak? I am to live with your whore and you are pleased that I, a married woman, served your pleasure with my virginity. Will you shout it from the highest citadel, that Giles failed with me? Surely even your cruelty has an end.”

  Hyatt sat back in his chair and looked at her, a frown wrinkling his brow. “You are a very difficult woman to please, lady. Most women like to be told that they are much appreciated for their chastity.”

  “Not I. Why would such please me? I do not wish to be your wife, nor do I find much solace in being a pleasing bedmate.”

  Hyatt put down his cup and raised a foot again to the bed, casually unlacing the straps around his boot. He drew it off and repeated the action with the other foot, speaking without looking at her. “You lie to yourself, Aurélie. ’Tis a pity. You delay any good settlement of our lot with your foolishness.”

  “You are not a man,” she said angrily. “A beast from the forest, rutting aimlessly, keeping whore and wife and finding base pleasures where they lie.”

  “Aurélie,” he sighed. “You are such a challenge.” He stood and pulled his linen shirt over his head, tossing it aside. His chausses soon followed and he stood before her in only his loincloth.

  “Hyatt, no,” she murmured. “I beseech your kindness, do not hurt me.”

  He laughed and his knee was on the bed. “You hurl your insults, then beg me not to bring you pain.” His hand touched her cheek tenderly. “I have not hurt you yet. Nay, your deflowering would have been painful with any man, for it is the way of such things. But with you I have been gentle and kind, giving far more than I have asked in return.” He lazily pulled the fur covers down to expose her nakedness. His hand made a soft sweep over her bosom, resting on her flat belly. She trembled in spite of herself. “Ah, Aurélie, you may cry out your hate for me, but when I touch you as your lover, your body rises to meet mine. It is a good place to begin.”

  “You shame me,” she whispered. “You torment; you hope to find this fleshly weakness in me.”

  “Nay,” he said huskily, softly caressing her waist, her breast. He pulled her hand and placed it atop his, forcing her to follow his movements as his fingers became more bold. “When I do this, lady, I am loving you. You will learn to know the touch, the pleasure, and you will find that it eases the hurt. You may despise me in the courtyard, the common room, the corridors of our castle, but in my bed your venom will cease. Here, if you cannot answer my kindness with equal weight, you will at least be silent when I touch you.” A half smile played on his lips. “Just let your body speak to mine. That will be enough for now.”

  “You …”

  “Hush,” he demanded. His fingers touched the soft mound of hair between her legs and she snatched her hand from his, the color burning on her cheeks. Her eyes closed as she gritted her teeth both in embarrassment and rousing pleasure. “There is ever accusation in your tone. In every word from your lips I hear pain, doubt, fear, hate. Yet in no action since my arrival can you claim I have been cruel to you.”

  His hands again brought to life the yearning. She moaned in misery, for the longing from deep within her womb had cried out for fulfillment. How did this devil know so much? She had craved to be in a lover’s arms, to be touched, caressed. She had desired to take the seed of a strong man, to bring to life a child. For as many as seven years she had been ready for love, life, joy.

  He played casually with her body and she opened her eyes to look at the hardened features of his face. He quickly stripped away his loincloth and his eyes smoldered with passion’s fire. She could feel his probing manhood against the inside of her closed thighs. Her heart beat wildly, her breathing came in labored gasps, for his fingers brought the response from her body. Tears clouded her vision as she studied his handsome features. Why could he not be a knight of John’s France, come to console her in her loss? Why could he not have been brought by her father when she was a girl, before she had committed so many years of loyalty to France and Giles? Hyatt was her lover now, and her body had taken him if her mind had not. Yet she was the vanquished, the prisoner, the captive. Why? Why?

  “Let me in, Aurélie.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but he would not have her oaths, denials, or insults. He covered her parted lips with his in a searing, hungry kiss that devoured her. He pulled her hips to meet his and with a deep, humiliating moan of resignation, she parted her legs to take him in. Within moments she clung to him, answering his thrusts with her own. Like a rising river, she felt the tide of rapture building and a glimmer of what lay ahead was relayed in this man’s arms. A glow flushed her skin; a deep quivering forced her to answer his kisses and meet his thrusting hips.

  He clasped her tightly to him and that which had escaped her on the night before filled her with astonishment now. The molten heat of his pleasure filled her. He moaned weakly, his muscles taut and trembling.

  His lips touched her cheek, his glowing eyes looking deeply into hers. “It will come in time, Aurélie. In a little while you will share my joy. When you let yourself.”

  He left her to dress himself and she turned over and sobbed into the pillow. Her tears were wrenching and painful and she was thankful that he did not mock her. Finally, his hand was on her shoulder. “Rise, Aurélie. Enough of that.”

  She turned to look at him. He was fully dressed and just strapping a knife to his belt. Tears ran unheeded down her cheeks and her hair was a tangled mass that fell in a torrent over her shoulders and around her face.

  “I’m afraid that I cannot allow you to indulge your self-pity any longer. This hall has been too long without the consolation of the lady. Your people, your soldiers yet in their bonds, need you now. You will have to endure better than this, if not for yourself, then for them, my lady.” He held out a hand to help her from the bed.

  She shook her head. Her whisper was soft and strained. “How am I to rise and go about my duties? As simply as that?”

  “They have had losses as well, madame. We all have.”

  “You?” she questioned, giving a short laugh.

  The
anger glittered in his dark eyes. “Yea!” he snapped like the crack of a whip. “I do not bemoan my losses, nor weep as you are wont to do. I lost good men in the battle. I am set to the task of informing my son’s mother that I am wed and bound by my own honor to act the husband to you. She has undoubtedly hoped that my conscience, if nothing else, would move me to marry her and give the boy a legitimate name. And, above all that, you seem to expect me to coddle you, when you should rise to ease the plight of the vanquished here.”

  “If I attempt to mend their bodies and hearts on your behalf, they will call me traitor.”

  “You are strong enough to take a blade to my back,” he protested loudly. “You are brave enough to insult your captor, to bury your dead, to stand witness to the harsh blade of my justice. Where is your courage now? Can you not counsel these castlefolk on wisdom to save their hides because of what they may call you? They are conquered. If they do not bend, they will die.”

  He walked toward the door, turning back to her. “I have no more time for your selfish whims. Lavergne promised you were worthy of the task; he said you were both strong and wise. I tire of pleading my case to you.”

  “Oh Hyatt, why?” she questioned with a sob. “Why could we not be of at least the same army?”

  He stood silent for a long moment, staring at her. “All in good time, my lady,” he said quietly.

  Aurélie sniffed back her tears and sat upright in the bed, clutching the pelts over her bosom. “Milord, will you send Perrine and my maid, Baptiste, to me? I should like to present a better appearance to my people.”

  “Baptiste? Is she the young, golden-haired one?”