Summer Siege (16 page)

“And I owe you
mine, so now we are even.”

Her features began
to blur in front of him, his fatigue slowly conquering him, and he wondered what
she meant. Had he performed some deed he could not remember? Mayhap she meant
that day in the woods. She must have noticed his confusion because she pressed
a kiss to his dry lips, before lying next to him, her arm wrapped comfortingly
around his chest and her lips nestled into his neck.

“You saved me from
a life without love, Tristan.”

He
felt her smile against his skin and a wash of relief came over him. She did
understand his love. Whatever happened to him, she knew.

Madeline felt his
breath steady under her arm and she watched his profile from where she lay.
Thankful he had finally found rest and would be free from pain, she quashed the
fear that he would not wake up. He would. Life could not be so cruel as to tear
him away from her when she had only just acknowledged their love. She knew
first-hand how fickle life could be but a renewed confidence took root.

With a smile, her
eyes tracked over his peaceful face. Even in sleep, with a serious injury, he
was nothing short of magnificent. Nothing could take away the underlying
strength of the man. For it was not just his physical strength that drew her to
him, but also his mental strength. There were not many men who could accept
such an uncommon woman as their wife. His acknowledgement of her courage
thrilled her more than he would ever know.

Allowing herself to
close her eyes, she felt the emotions of the day finally take its toll. The
triumph of survival was fading and the pain in her chest became more pronounced.
A sharp ache resounded with every breath but she felt confident it was no more
than a crack and she knew she had much to be grateful for. The groans of
wounded men filtered to her ears and chilled her, reminding her of what could
have come to pass.

Stroking
her thumb across Tristan’s sweat slickened chest, she assured herself that it
would not come to pass here.

***

As Madeline nursed
Tristan through the coming month, her hope never waned, even as he became
nonsensical with fever. Heedless of her own injuries, she tended to him with an
unmatched dedication.

Even De Burgh
commented on her devotion when he came to check on the condition of the injured
knight.

“Would
that I could command such loyalty.”

“My lord,” she
protested. “You command the loyalty of every man here. They would not have
fought so relentlessly for any other lord.”

“Indeed.” He smiled
at her candidness, used to her outspoken manner. “Though I doubt you fought out
of loyalty to me, my lady.”

Madeline reddened
and flicked a look to Tristan.
Nay, it
had all been for him.

“Will we have to
fight again?” she asked, aware that the French had shown little enthusiasm for
continuing the siege. No doubt the garrison’s victory against them must have
taken its toll on morale.

“I suspect not.
Prince Louis has requested to speak with me; I pray it is to negotiate a
truce.”

“Truly,
my lord?
You
think he will forfeit the keep?”

“He would be fool
not to. We have already proved we will not yield and winter is drawing closer.
I do not believe this will be the last we hear from the prince, but ‘twill be a
temporary reprieve.”

 “I pray you
are right.”

“If the siege is
truly over, we will have no more need for you here…” He considered her for a
moment. “What shall you do, Lady Madeline, upon your return home? You have seen
much and life these past months has been far removed from that of a noble
woman.”

“Aye, that much is
true, but I believe I shall be content to resume life at Woodchurch.”

The lonely days and
nights by Tristan’s side had afforded her much time to consider all she had
experienced. She doubted she would ever forget the sights and sounds of battle,
but she looked forward to returning to Woodchurch and taking up her duties once
more.
Especially with Tristan by her side.

“Well, you have my
thanks, my lady. Let it be known that Lady Madeline fought with courage equal
to that of any man.”

She smiled,
flattered by his words. De Burgh, with his practical manner, was not known to
give undue praise so it was high praise indeed. “I thank you, my lord.”

With a bow, he left
for his conference with Prince Louis, the fate of thousands of men and the
crown of England in his hands.

Chapter 13

Three long months
after the siege began came the news of the truce. The bravery and resolve of all
who defended the castle had paid off, and Prince Louis removed himself to
London, giving up on his hopes of taking the castle before winter.

Four days later
came the news of King John’s demise. Death by dysentery, they were told. There
would be many in England who would think it a fitting end. His young son, Henry
ascended to the throne at only nine years of age, and the rebellion quickly
petered out, the main reason for it being all but gone.

There atmosphere in
the keep was one of relief but they remained on their guard for it would not do
to try their luck with the French Prince still in England. The French
encampment was burned to the ground and they quickly restocked their supplies.
De Burgh was not a man to take chances. He knew the Prince may well return.

With tensions
relieved, the Ashford soldiers returned home, the journey home taking longer
than usual as fatigue and strain drained them. Their master struggled no less,
his injury having sapped most of his strength, but he still mustered the energy
pay his wife her due attentions.

Paying little heed
to the jests, they revelled in the freedom their married status granted them,
and there were not many moments when they did not lavish each other with
touches or kisses and Madeline’s laughter could oft be heard.

Tristan watched his
wife thrive with great delight. It seemed that these arduous months, instead of
taking its toll, had brought his Madeline back to him. Her quiet confidence and
hopeful disposition must have been sorely tested in such circumstances yet she
continued to blossom and he viewed her with pride.

They sat by the
forest path that night, shadows dancing amongst the trees as the fires
crackled, and Tristan thought back to the last time they had spent a night
together like this. As Madeline snuggled into his side, he uttered a prayer of
thanks.

“What are you
giving thanks for?” She looked up at him with her tempting wide eyes.

“For bringing you
back to me.”

Madeline grinned
and pressed a kiss to his jawline. “I am the one who should be giving thanks. I
thought I would lose you.”

“Ah, but you did
not.”

“Praise the Lord,”
she whispered. “I know not what I would do without you. I have been so
foolish…all those wasted years.”

“Hush now, ‘tis
done. And you would not be the same courageous woman I see before me without
them.”

Tristan pressed a
tender kiss to her lips and the way she melded into him caused him to release a
rumbling groan.

“Will your father
be
satisfied with your choice in bride?”

He frowned at her
question.
“Aye, of course.”

“I fear I am not
suited to the role of Lady of Ashford Manor.”

“Madeline, you have
proved yourself more capable than any woman I know. Besides, ‘twill
be
long before you are expected to take on such a role. I
have no doubt you will prove to be a most able mistress of Woodchurch and
no-one will doubt your ability to do the same for Ashford.”

“I believe, my
love, that
you are speaking with some prejudice.” She
grinned.

“Nonsense!
Ask any man here and they will
speak of the bravery of Madeline of Woodchurch.”

“Madeline Dumont,”
she corrected with a grin.

“Aye, Madeline
Dumont.” he murmured before setting a resounding kiss on her lips.

***

Woodchurch sat in
the distance. Though it was no longer bathed in the glow of summer, the sight was
a wondrous one. Villagers continued their daily life, oblivious to the
struggles the defenders had faced. Crumbling stone walls and blood steeped dirt
seemed a distant memory as they progressed past the fief.

A familiar sight
greeted Tristan and he caught Madeline’s eye, wondering if she was relishing
the same memory. She gave him a knowing smile that spoke of the promise of
flesh upon flesh and his pulse quickened.

“Must we return to
Ashford directly?”

“We should…” he
offered vaguely.

“Our time will be
taken up with the hospitalities of your parents, no doubt. They will want to
celebrate our betrothal. Would that we could just return to Woodchurch without
a fuss,” she sighed longingly.

“I must apprise my
father of all that has befallen Kent. He will be anxious to hear all from me.”

Madeline looked
disappointed. “Aye…”

“But…mayhap a day’s
delay would do no harm.”

Madeline’s face lit
up and he chuckled.

“I will send the
men on; they will be keen to return home.”

She nodded
enthusiastically and he drew up beside the men at the head of the column. As
the soldiers continued on, Madeline and Tristan watched eagerly as they
progressed out of view. Tristan felt slightly guilty for relinquishing his duty
but a crooked finger from Madeline quickly soothed his guilt.

Laying herself back
against the bark, her eyes glinted as she raised one arm and then the other,
pressing them against the tree above her. Tristan recognised the position she
had placed herself in from their first time together and grew instantly hard as
she tilted her head in invitation.

Stalking over, he
bore down upon her before capturing her lips in a powerful kiss. Her lips
parted underneath his and invited him in to delve into her delectable mouth. He
nipped and sucked at her, determined to savour every moment of her enchanting
kisses.

His fingers fumbled
with her belt, eager to feel her soft flesh underneath his fingers but she
pushed him back with a grin.
“You first.”

He groaned and
battled with his own belt as he attempted to explore her mouth again but she
forced him back once more.  “Nay, I would see you, for it has been too
long and I fear my memory does not do you justice.”

With a roll of his
eyes, he finally won the battle with his belt and flung it to one side before
desperately yanking at his surcoat. With that cast carelessly aside, he
struggled to divest himself of his heavy hauberk and Madeline took pity on him,
helping him haul it over his head. They both scrabbled at his padded gambeson
until his torso was bare.

Madeline spread her
fingers across the planes of his chest, eliciting a hiss from him as they
danced across his nipples and traced the ridges of his stomach. Trailing her
hands downwards, she pressed scorching kisses to his golden skin and finally
cupped him through his braies. He thrust into her hand, unable to control
himself
, and her tongue darted across her lips as she
carefully peeled them down, revealing his straining manhood.  

Releasing a sigh as
the air cooled his heated member, his relief was short lived as Madeline
caressed and stroked, brushing a thumb across the dampened tip.

“God’s blood,
Madeline,” he muttered through clenched teeth, unsure of how much more of her
ministrations he could take.

Madeline stepped
back and admired him openly before plucking at his hose. “These must go.”

She laughed as he
eagerly stripped away his hose and braies, almost falling over as he tore off
his boots.

Now fully naked,
she took him in with a wicked gleam, and he wondered how long she would enjoy
her perusal of him. Not too long, he prayed. His desire was almost unbearable
and he ached to press himself to her, to lose himself in the luxurious heat of
her mouth, and to relish every silken part of her.

She tracked every golden
fragment, sliding her gaze along each muscular ripple. Her eyes lingered on the
pink, smooth mark on his side and for a moment she was transported back to the
grim castle and the time when she thought she would lose him.

Tristan noticed the
change in her thoughts and he hooked an arm around her waist, hauling her
forcefully to him, the feel of his unrelenting body pressing against hers
robbing her of her breath. As he seized her mouth, she found herself incapable
of any more morbid thoughts and was instead consumed by her craving for her
husband.

Unable to bear it
any longer, Madeline pulled back, desperate for the feel of his skin upon hers.
Carefully unbuckling her belt, she tossed it aside. Tristan’s eyes darkened as
she removed her boots and deftly peeled away her hose, affording him glimpses of
her supple legs.

“More,” he growled.
“Take it all off.”

 Finally she
tore her surcoat and shirt over her head and stood before him, exposed, as she
had before.

There was no
nervousness this time. She trembled not with fear, but with desire, and she
watched as he fell to his knees in front of her. Gripping her buttocks, he
plunged his tongue into her crevice and she cried out with pleasure. Her legs
quaked beneath her as she meshed her fingers urgently through his fair locks.

Tristan licked his
way up to her navel, replacing his tongue with his fingers, swirling at the
sensitive nub. Scraping his tongue across her beaded nipples, she arced into
his touch, and he came to his feet, nipping at her neck and ears. His coarse
thumbs stroked back down her breasts and finally rested upon her hips, pressing
eagerly into them, coaxing her towards him.

They rocked
together, panting feverishly as their tongues swirled anxiously, before tasting
each other’s flesh. A cold drip trickled down Madeline’s cheek, quickly followed
by another, and they both pulled back dazedly.

The drops became
heavier and they laughed as they stared up at the sky to watch the clouds
converge. As the rain cooled their heated skin, Tristan bundled her to him,
dragging her further under the tree. It offered meagre shelter but it did not
dampen the heat that traversed between them. Sitting on the already soaked
ground, Madeline offered Tristan her hand, drawing him close. He prowled
towards her like a predator and she admired his glistening form as the rain
trickled down his skin.

Lying back, he
moved over her, his body radiating heat and warming her instantly. Her fingers
played at his back, tracking a path down to the dip of his buttocks and back
up. He looked at her intently, his fingers toying with her damp locks.

“My beautiful
wife,” he murmured. “You are my heart, my soul,
my everything
.”

Madeline smiled
gratefully. “And you, my love, are mine. I will remain by your side - always.”

Opening her legs,
she offered herself to him and he gratefully took what she offered, sheathing
himself swiftly within in her. They both moaned in gratification as he plunged
forwards, his muscles rippling under her touch. He moved against her with an
agonising slowness, teasing the pleasure from her until she could take no more.

Quickly shifting,
she rolled over, pushing him underneath her and Tristan grinned in delight at
the sight of her curves. Working her hips, he gripped at them, and they moved
together once more, their sounds of rapture muted by the hammering of rain
around them. His hands skimmed over her breasts as she surrendered to his touch
before seizing her buttocks to increase the pace. Leaning over him, she brushed
her breasts against his chest and their bodies slid as one, increasing the pace
until they reached their shared crescendo, clutching onto one another and
crying out.

As the rain eased
and the day darkened, Tristan reached for his ever trusty cape and bundled
Madeline into his arms, wrapping it around them both in an attempt to stay
warm. She hung onto his neck, placing loving kisses to his face, as he pushed
her rain slickened hair from her face.

Setting a fiery
kiss against her lips as he muttered, “One day, Madeline, we will have to do
this in a bed.”

Madeline laughed
before returning his kiss with relish. “
Aye, that
we
will.”

Looking down on her
with such warmth and love that it made her heart surge, Madeline found herself
charged with hope for the future. She knew whatever fate had in store for them,
as long as she had Tristan by her side, they would always prevail.