Music for My Soul (23 page)

“He asked his nephew Roland, along with a small band of knights, to guard the rear of his army while he returned home. They were charged to hold the pass at Roncesvalle.

“In spite of his reputation for bravery, Roland and his men were quickly attacked by the Saracens. It was a mighty force, four hundred thousand strong.”

Gasps echoed throughout the hall. “Four hundred thousand?” asked Cook.

Madeleine nodded and continued. “Roland fought bravely at the front of his small group, swinging a sword named Durendal. The battle was long and hard, but in the end the numbers against the Franks were too great.”

“Poor lads,” someone whispered.

Many nodded their heads in agreement.

“Roland was urged by his friend, Oliver, to sound the oliphant, a powerful horn Charlemagne had given him. Only Roland could do so. ‘Twas said that the uproar would be so great that the ground would shake and chimneys fall at its noise. Men would cry out, plunging fingers in their ears to keep the sound away. Yet Roland refused, saying that it should only be used in the most deadly of peril.”

“What did he think four hundred thousand men?” came a question from the rear.

“Let her finish,” Cook begged and gestured at Madeleine to continue. “And then?”

“So the fighting continued, and Roland’s group of knights fell, one by one, till he was the only remaining soul. He blew the oliphant, which Charlemagne heard, but by the time the king arrived, Roland lay at death’s doorstep. Charlemagne held his nephew in his arms as he breathed his last breath.”

The crowd remained spellbound for a moment, but Madeleine did not continue. Finally, someone called out, “And did Charlemagne kill the Saracens and revenge Roland’s death?”

Everyone leaned forward expectantly, waiting for her answer. Madeleine smiled mysteriously and said, “That is another tale for another time.”

There were good-natured grumblings and slowly people drew themselves to their feet, ready for bed after the night’s entertainment. Madeleine watched them leave, remembering how Yves had often said, “You must always make them want more,
ma cheri
. Always give, but not too much, and they’ll want to hear you again and again.
C’est bon, non
?”

Suddenly Garrett appeared before her. “May I help you to your chamber?”

Coster had not yet returned from checking on his child. She hesitated. Walking was becoming easier for her, for she practiced longer and longer in her room, but stairs were still beyond her.

Garrett held a hand out to her. She took it tentatively. She liked the idea of being in his arms more than she should.

“Perhaps you can assist me as I try the stairs?” she asked. Her next words came out in a nervous rush. “I removed the wrap from my leg yesterday. I probably need to stop babying it.”

Garrett swept her up in his arms. “Quit your babbling, Madeleine. You can try the stairs on your own another time. This time”—he grinned crookedly at her—“I am here, and I wouldn’t pass on this opportunity for the world.”

He mounted the stairs easily, his masculine scent and very nearness overwhelming her senses.

“Truly, Garrett, I can walk,” she croaked. “I must.” Her voice cracked.

He frowned at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I simply forgot to drink during my tale. I’m parched. ‘Tis nothing.”

He proceeded down the hall, passing her chamber. “You missed the door,” she told him, her voice deep and raspy.

“You need wine. I have some in the solar. I’ll give you a cup and then take you to bed.”

Madeleine eyed him speculatively, her brows arching. “Your solar?”

Garrett smirked at her and then squeezed her playfully, a squeak spurting from her lips. As he walked down the stone corridor, he wanted to jest with her some more but found his own mouth now dry. The thought of bedding her caused him to stir. He was so aware of her nearness, each breath she took, each blink of her eyelids.

Now he finally had her in his arms after weeks without a single touch, and he wanted nothing more than to make love to her.

He regretted his rash promise of two months before. He had been full of hope that the bishop would send his petition immediately to Rome, but that had not been the case. Despite his insistence and liberal contributions, the cagey holy man had not acted swiftly, putting him off with one excuse after another. Garrett despaired of his suit reaching the Pope before the spring.

He wondered how much more he could take, seeing Madeleine every day, longing to touch her. Now she was gathered in his arms, here in his chamber, something he’d only dreamed of each night. He took a deep breath and eased her onto the bed. Wanting to hide his arousal, he quickly moved to the other side of the room and busied himself with pouring two cups of wine.

But then he lost all the willpower he’d gathered the minute he turned and saw her sitting straight and still on the bed. It reminded him how stiff she’d been against him that night they’d ridden Ebony together, the night they’d first met. She hadn’t relaxed until she’d fallen asleep in his arms. The memory of her body pressed to his was enough to shatter any control he had left.

He slowly moved toward her, extending one of the cups to her. She drank a few sips nervously, her eyes never leaving his.

He drained the contents and set the cup onto a table. “Drink up, Madeleine,” he urged.

She did as he requested, her amethyst eyes wide as they peeked over the rim. Finishing, she handed him the cup, which he put next to his.

“Thank you for the wine, my lord,” she said haltingly. “’Twas very thoughtful of you.”

He sat down next to her on the bed. “Do you not know that my every thought is of you?” He lifted her braid and brought it to his lips.

She shivered. “My lord?”

He stroked her hair along his jaw and across his cheek, savoring its silky texture. He traced the braid across her lips, then rubbed it lightly across her face. As he did, his knuckles grazed her cheek, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes met his as he began winding the braid around his hand, drawing her nearer to him.

She tentatively caressed his cheek and he groaned. He placed his free hand behind her neck and brought her lips to his.

The moment they touched, shock waves ripped through him and he moaned. She pushed her palms against his chest, but he did not budge.

“Garrett, we—”

“No,” he shushed her, kissing her again. “We can’t go on as we have any longer. I must have you, Madeleine.”

“But, ‘tis wrong,” she murmured into his mouth.

He edged away from her for a moment and gazed into her eyes. “Then morality be damned.” Instead, he shifted her into his lap and continued the kiss, deepening it.

Madeleine’s stomach flipped as if she’d turned somersaults. Dizziness made her head spin as if she’d drunk too much champagne.

As he kissed her, his hand left her neck and moved to her breast, slowly kneading it.

She gasped.

He continued caressing her as his lips trailed along her jaw to her neck. He rained a shower of kisses there, causing her to tremble.

He lifted her from his lap to place her across the bed. Even as he settled her, his mouth was on hers again, urgent in its demands. He stretched out next to her, throwing a leg over hers, trapping her.

He reached for the hem of her tunics and lifted them slightly, touching her calf, stroking her skin up and down, massaging her flesh thoroughly. He moved to the back of her knee, touching it lightly. Her breathing now came in uneven spurts. Still kissing her, he inched the garments up further, caressing her thigh as he moved to hover over her.

She tried to speak, but he kissed her more deeply, his tongue stroking hers, sucking on it gently, nipping it playfully. She reveled in sensations never experienced before. He continued brushing her thigh, then moved even higher, cupping her womanly parts, rubbing her gently. Slowly, he pushed a finger inside her.

Madeleine tensed, not understanding what he did, even as she began to quiver with need. He slid his finger out gradually and then pushed it back in quickly. She gasped, gripping his shoulders tightly. He continued his movement, and she began rising to meet his hand each time, whimpering quietly. He began to speed up the action until she cried out, her body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure exploded throughout her, leaving her limp and spent, wondering what had occurred.

He eased off her, and she watched him quickly doff his clothes. As the candlelight flickered and shadows danced across his frame, she sucked in her breath and gripped the bedcovers. He was perfect in every way.

And he looked at her with passion and love as he came back and wrapped her in his arms. His kiss was gentle, slow and sensual, and as his tongue mated with hers, he entered her. He began an easy rhythm which she responded to readily. No thought was required. She simply moved until they were one.

Then she shattered again, her cry of joy muffled as his mouth hungrily claimed hers again and again. She felt the tremors running through them both.

She finally knew love. And knew it well.

He rolled over, bringing her with him and cradled her next to him. He kissed her brow, her eyelids, her cheeks, and her mouth, over and over. She never wanted this moment to end.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he told her again and again, nuzzling her neck, stroking her gently. She sighed her pleasure softly in his ear.

Finally played out, he gathered her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder. After awhile his ragged breathing evened out, and Madeleine realized he’d fallen asleep.
How could he
, she wondered,
after such a glorious experience
? Was this what happened between a man and a woman when they loved each other? It was the most marvelous, most divine thing she'd ever known. Their lovemaking bore no resemblance to what Henri did to her. That had been vile and degrading. She thought she’d never want physical love from a man again. How wrong Garrett had proven her!

She nestled closer to him, secure in his arms. She had no guilt, no shame in what had happened between them. She knew she could die happily now having experienced all his love.

Of course, she realized within a few days she would be up to full strength and would need to make her way to France. She took heart, recognizing that even once she was far from him, this one night with Garrett would sustain her the rest of her life. Knowing complete happiness for the first time ever, Madeleine fell into a deep sleep, no dreams of Henri troubling her.

Chapter 20

Madeleine awakened to nibbles on her earlobe. She opened her eyes slowly to soft candlelight.

Garrett leaned over her, a trace of a smile on his face. “’Tis very late,” he whispered as he bent to kiss her. “Mmmm, you taste good.”

Her heart quickened as he touched her breast, his palm running lazy circles around her nipple. He made love to her once again, more gently than before, yet still filled with passion and longing.

As they lay entwined in each other’s arms, Madeleine savored the intimacy created between them this night.

“We won’t be able to walk through the Great Hall,” he told her. “One look at the two of us, and all will know what has passed between us.”

Madeleine snuggled closer to him. “I don’t look any different, my lord.”

“No, sweetheart,” he said, “you are wrong. Even without the candlelight, I know there is a glow about you that wasn’t present before.” He rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry I broke my promise to you.”

“Sshh,” she quieted him, placing her fingers to his lips. “I could have stopped you.”

He stroked her hair. “No, I fear nothing could have stopped me tonight. One look at you and all was lost. Damnation!” His tone was fierce. “I
will
find Lynnette. I must. I cannot imagine spending a lifetime in limbo without you.”

She bit her lip, holding back her tears, and once more swallowed her guilt. She, too, wondered how she could spend the rest of her days on this earth without Garrett’s touch. She felt certain she’d burn throughout eternity for her actions this night, but the transgression had been worthwhile. Nothing would ever compare to these hours she’d spent in his arms.

“So, my lord,” she asked with a trembling voice, “since we have become intimate, mayhap I should know more about you.”

“What do you wish to know, my sweet?”

She lay a hand on his chest. “Everything.”

He sighed. “I was raised here at Stanbury by Edith and Ryker, a man so wicked he should have sired devils with tails and horns.”

She gasped. “You shouldn’t speak of your father so, Garrett.”

“Why not? He never loved me nor my mother.” He grew quiet for a moment. “He did love my brother, Luke, but he died before reaching manhood.”

She squeezed his hand, wanted to comfort him for the sorrow she heard in his voice.

“Luke died of the fever. I prayed for God to take me instead, but He had other ideas.” He paused. “Luke was good at everything. He could fell a deer better and faster than anyone at Stanbury. He would have been a terrific soldier had he lived to maturity, so natural was he at swordplay and in the saddle. I worshipped him, followed him around like a pup, drove him near insane.”

Garrett seemed miles away, so Madeleine left him to his memories. Finally, he spoke again. “Ryker was eventually poisoned by one of his women. He always had several mistresses. Never tried to hide anything from my mother. Marva was afraid Ryker was ready to replace her, and so the bitch poisoned him. Told him in front of all present in the Hall just after he’d taken a few bites. He lived long enough to run his sword through her before he collapsed and died. All as my mother and I watched.”

Madeleine shivered.

“Sorry, my love. I should speak of more pleasant things.”

They lay there in the dark as he told her of his estate, his house in London, and of the horses he bred that many nobles bought from him. Then he began to speak of wine. “The Montaynes have estates in Bordeaux, which is in the south of France. The weather is pleasant, and we grow grapes that produce Merlots and Sauvignons. I’d never taken much interest in them before, although Ryker made sure I learned about wine and spoke rudimentary French.”