Medieval Ever After (153 page)

“Gerwald, thou art hither to learn from my example and become proficient in leadership of a large garrison, as thou art young and inexperienced.”  Demetrius tightened his hold on her.  “Thy assignment doth not extend to management of my wife, given I own her fealty, and she outranks ye, so thou wilt check
thy
tone when ye dost address Lady Wessex.  Thou wilt forget that to thy sincere regret, as thou art neither her better nor her equal.”

“Of course, I am most grateful for thy good health, Gerwald, and mayhap thou wilt sup at our table, this eventide, that thou mayest apprise me of the news from court.”  In that moment, Athel could have kissed her husband, as she drew herself up with noble poise.  To her Demetrius, she asked, “My lord, should I help ye with thy hauberk?”

“Let us adjourn to our quarters, my lady.”  His muscles flexed, and he smirked, as he offered his escort.  “Shall we?”

“Indeed.”  A familiar flame sparked beneath her skin, as they crossed the Great Hall, entered the narrow passage that led to the family chambers, and ascended the stairs.  Near the end of a long corridor, Demetrius set wide the double doors of their solar.  When he turned, Athel pounced.

Framing his face, she bit his chin and then claimed his mouth, and her man responded with a hunger that well nigh consumed her.  But Athel would never complain, as desire beckoned.  After a few fiery, groping, desperate minutes, during which they engaged their tongues in a searing duel, he ended their kiss and rested his forehead to hers.

“What was that for, my lady?”  As he cupped her bottom, he rubbed his nose to hers.

“I require a reason to occupy my husband?”  She nibbled his lower lip, and he thrust his hips.

“Nay.”  Now he squeezed her backside, and her knees buckled.  “Thou mayest storm my castle, every day of the sennight and twice on Sunday.”

“Then I shall thank ye properly for coming to my rescue and defending me against Gerwald.”  With a yank and tug, she removed his chainmail, but when she attempted to strip him of his tunic, he grasped her wrists, and she gave vent to a sigh of exasperation.  “Have I told ye thine eyes art of the purest silver, such that they evoke a comparison to moonlight?  Much like the awe-inspiring hue, thy gaze casts shadows, behind which ye cannot hide.  Thou art troubled.”  Caressing the angular lines of his jaw, she fought unexpected tears.  “Wilt thou not share thy encumbrance?”

“Thou dost know me so well?”  With the pad of his thumb, he wiped the wetness from her flesh.  “For naught in the world would I hurt ye, Athel.  The load is mine to carry, but thou dost make it easier to bear.”

“Mayhap thou might claim my maidenhead, as further distraction.”  How she wanted him, and she shivered with unbridled passion.  “Prithee, it hath been more than a month since we wed, and I will not protest.  Indeed, I would encourage ye.”

“Thou art more than a distraction, Athel.  Thus I will not take ye without consideration.”  The kiss with which he favored her set her head spinning, and she all but fell into his embrace.  But when he nuzzled her, cheek-to-cheek, she lost all sense of time and place.  “Sweet Athelyna, I care for ye too much to use ye in so rough a fashion.”

“Thou dost care for me?”  That elementary yet fervent declaration brought her alert.  “Oh, my lord.  I care for ye, too.”

In that instant, Demetrius hugged her so tight she knew not where she ended and he began.  Her heart pounded in her chest, and she struggled for breath, but in her mind she shouted for joy.

“Cherished wife, I have given much thought to the consummation of our vows, and I would celebrate the deed in a manner as befits the momentous occasion, that we might commemorate the event, every year, with fondness.”  Then he grinned, the last remaining vestige of her fortitude melted, and she convinced herself he would confess his anxieties, at some point.  “Remember, I am a virgin, too.”

“Then I shall rely on thy right and true judgment.”  But she would conspire with Isolde to provoke Demetrius, and she would claim her husband.

DEMETRIUS

CHAPTER TEN

The sun rose
on a clear day near the end of January, and Demetrius sought his bride.  Given the snow had melted, and the roads had dried, he thought it the perfect time to surprise his wife with a special outing.

After the disaster he made of Christmastide, he pondered his situation and made an overdue decision.  He opted to make a success of his marriage, thus he consulted with an expert in matters of forgiveness.  In short, he asked Isolde how he might recover from his mistake.

“Whither is my beauteous bride?”  With a spring in his step, he strode into the kitchen, whither he knew he would find her.

“Demetrius?”  Gowned in a crème-colored kirtle and a rich blue cotehardie, with long lappets, because he selected the ensemble just for the occasion, and her blonde locks plaited, Athel gazed at him from her pile of dried wortes and blinked.  “Is something wrong?”

“Nay, my lady.”  To her expression of surprise, he rounded the table and drew her from her chair.  “But I require thy company.”

“Wherefore?”  Athel clutched his hand, as he led her into the screened passage, but he glanced at Lady Isolde, who smiled and nodded.

In the entry, Margery waited with their cloaks.  “Have a wonderful time.”

“My lord, what art thou about?”  Despite her query, Athel glowed, and that was enough reward for him.

“It is a very great secret.”  When they strolled into the courtyard, the master of the horse met them, holding the reins of Demetrius’s destrier and Athel’s mare.  “What say ye, my dear?  Wilt thou consent to accompany thy undeserving husband on an important errand?”

“Whither shall we go?”  Yea, she bounced with unmasked excitement, which delighted him beyond words.

“I will not tell ye.”  He tapped her nose, and she squealed.

“But I have a request.”  Biting her lip, she inclined her head.  “I would ride with ye, in thy lap, as it is cold, and thou art warm.”

As usual, he languished in a near permanent state of arousal when in his wife’s presence, and he seized upon what he considered a brilliant plan for the consummation.  Only he had no idea how to broach the topic, as they had not discussed it since the morning her brother arrived, but that could wait.

Today was about Athelyna.

“Thou art most wise, and I like the way ye dost think.”  As he lifted her to the saddle, she claimed a quick kiss, and his cheeks burned with uncharacteristic reticence.  When he settled behind her, she scooted close, and he lifted her atop his thighs.  As was her way, she wrapped her arms about his waist and rested her head to his chest.

Heeling the flanks of his stallion, they charged through the barbican and crossed the two drawbridges.  In the meadow, he steered to the north until they came upon the road into town.  It was then he chanced a glance at Athel and discovered her admiring him.

“Thou art staring again.”  Demetrius sighed.  “Wherefore dost thou look at me so?”

“Because thou art beauteous.”  With a giggle, which he favored, she burrowed beneath his cloak, and he tucked the folds about her.  “Now, tell me of thy mission, as I am intrigued.”

“In truth, thou art my assignment.”  At her expression of confusion, he chuckled, tipped her chin, and brushed his lips to hers.  “I owe ye a gift, as I was remiss in my duties as thy husband last Christmastide, and I will rectify my deficiency, if thou canst forgive me.”

“But thither is naught to forgive, and thou dost owe me naught.”  A hint of sorrow colored her joy, and he regretted his comments.  “Thou dost misunderstand, because it was not the lack of a present that hurt me.  Rather, it was that ye forgot me.”

“Athel, thou art the one laboring under a false impression, as I never forget ye.”  It genuinely wounded him that he had neglected his bride to the extent she supposed he paid her no heed.  In some respects, he had avoided her, so she would not discover his lack of faith.  But then he realized his grand design only punished her, and she was without crime.  “Since the moment I was told we would wed, thou hast occupied my thoughts.”

“But thou were not happy about our union.”  Ah, her smile betrayed her playful demeanor.

“If memory serves, neither were ye.”  Grasping his hand, she twined her fingers in his, and how he loved that elementary connection.

Skin to skin, the effortless touch spread though him, leaving naught unmarked by her influence and soothing the internal disquietude that plagued him.  In fact, unbeknownst to Athel, she had become his personal salve for the anger and resignation that threatened to consume his soul.

“I was wrong.”  Now she sat upright and looked him in the eye.  “I am happy, my lord.  I am very happy.”

“As am I, Athel.”  That was no falsehood, and no one was more astonished than Demetrius by recent developments, in that respect.  “So let us enjoy our private time, as thither may be little left to us, once we move to Winchester.”

“And that will be when?”  She brushed the tip of her nose to his neck, and he clenched his gut.

“Briarus expects the soldiers to arrive in Chichester in February.”  The main gate came into view, and he turned left at a fork in the lane.  “His Majesty sends us three hundred men to settle the territory, but it will take them longer to cover the ground between hither and London, and thither will be much work for us both.  The last time Arucard and I toured the castle, it was in poor condition, to say the least.  In advance of our relocation, I have hired and dispatched craftsmen to ensure the structure is sound, the curtain wall is repaired, and the roof doth not leak.  Then a group of women will clean the place, from top to bottom, as I will not have ye confronted by the same situation Isolde faced.  The entire building hath no oilskins for the windows, and thither will be glass installed, similar to what we benefit from at Chichester Castle.”

“Thou hast organized and formulated well, my lord, but that is not what worries me.  Art the people as dangerous as Isolde reports?”  Her question belied her apprehension, and Athelyna was right to be afraid.  “Isolde believes the citizens of Winchester hate us.”

“They will not hurt ye, as I will protect ye.  But they resent the King’s presence on their lands, so I will keep a watchful guard, until we convince them that we art not their enemies.”  In a flash, he revisited that awful day, when the Brethren entered Winchester and found Isolde tied to a whipping post, with her bloody and mangled back exposed to a riotous hoard that cheered for her death.  Thither was naught the Nautionnier Knights could do to save her at that moment, so they plotted and planned her escape.  But never had Demetrius felt so useless than when he restrained Arucard, and the entire nefarious affair only bolstered his faithlessness.  “And like my brother, I will never leave ye, as I have witnessed what ill can come of separation.  Whither I go, so go ye.”

“That suits me, my lord.”  As a modest woman, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin, when they rode through the decorated egress of Chichester.

On the streets, numerous vendors shouted appeals, promising the lowest prices for their wares.  Demetrius reined in, dismounted, tied his destrier, and retrieved his bride.

“My lady, I give ye a town for thy perusal.”  With a flourish, he bowed.  “And I am thy devoted servant, at the ready to perform thy bidding.”

“Oh, I want to kiss ye, but we art not alone, and I would not make a spectacle of our intimacy.”  Athel stepped near and whispered, “But were we in our chambers, I should stroke thy stout man’s yard, until thou dost find thy relief, and I will do so, this eventide, my lord.”