The Wife Test (24 page)

The wonder evident in his reaction to their pleasure was too close to hers for her not to recognize what it meant.

“But you were a soldier. On campaign. Somewhere along the way you must have looked at a woman and …” She suddenly knew, without being told, that she was wrong.

“I was promised to God.” She could see emotion rising in him. “I saw, all right. Too much. But I never
looked.
Until now.”

An aching tenderness spread through her, unveiling a part of her she hadn’t known was there, a place of gentleness and caring, a well of compassion from which all other good flowed. Suddenly she yearned to take him inside her, to surround him with warmth and protect the fragile, emerging spirit in him. She wanted to give him joy and pleasure and all of the other wonderful things his narrow and restricted upbringing had denied him.

She sat up and rolled up onto her knees before him. When he looked up with a guarded expression, she poured all of the love and compassion she possessed into one potent and adoring smile.

“I’m yours, Hugh of Sennet. Body and soul. I am here to partner your life … to share your pleasure and to comfort your pain. I was made ‘woman’ for you, just as you were made ‘man’ for me. This is the way Heaven intended it. And I think it’s time you ‘looked’ your fill.”

He squinted and blinked, as if stepping out of a darkened room into the midday sun. She took his hand and pulled him up to face her. As he watched, hesitant but hungry for sensation, she straightened his fingers and dragged them across her face, down her throat, and cupped them with hers over her breast.

He roared to life, wrapping her in his arms and lowering her to the bed with him, kissing her, holding her, touching her as if he could never get his fill. She giggled as he nuzzled her neck and squealed as he nibbled her ear.

“Oooh, stop! That tickles!” She was suddenly all gooseflesh and shivers.

He pushed up on his elbows above her and her heart stopped. His handsome face was lighted with the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. She was so entranced that it took her a moment to translate what he’d said before continuing to ravish her with sultry, wet kisses and bone-melting caresses.

“Get used to it.”

“I’ll try,” she breathed out on a sigh, giving herself up to the tantalizing sensations he was stirring within her. “But I should warn you … it will probably take some time …”

When Chloe roused again from sleep, the sun was well up and Hugh was standing on the far side of the chamber. She slipped from the bed to tiptoe up behind him and slide her arms about his waist. He growled with surprise and turned with a razor in his hand and soap on his partly shaved face.

“Don’t ever sneak up on a man with a shaving blade in his hand. Think how it would look if I appeared in the hall with blood pouring down my face.”

She laughed and commandeered the razor, pushing him to a seat in the sunlight and tilting his head to achieve the proper angle for applying the blade.

“After your delightful description of me yesterday,” she declared, “people will be so astonished to see you emerge from this chamber at all that they probably won’t even notice a little blood.”

His chuckle drew a thump from her on his shoulder.

“Hold still.”

The sounds of their stirring drew the little maidservant who had attended Chloe the previous night, and Hugh reluctantly turned over the task of assisting Chloe’s dressing to her. She brushed and braided Chloe’s hair, and put it up in a style befitting a married woman. As she worked, she gossiped about the wedding feast and about how quiet everything had been outside the five nuptial chambers. Apparently there had been a number of people with their ears pressed to the portals … all of whom finally fell asleep or went away disappointed.

Hugh sat with his booted feet propped on the table, saying little as he listened and watched her dress and prepare for the day. He was quieter still as they descended the steps together, and by the time they entered the great hall and were greeted by a rousing “halloo,” his features had settled into a light scowl she recognized all too well.

She tried to be gracious about the admiration and teasing aimed her way, but even simple curiosity seemed a vile intrusion on the closeness they had found in the night. The arrival of her sisters and their new husbands was a welcome diversion. She was relieved to see that they, too, had survived the night and looked, on the whole, quite content. Then on closer look she saw that Lisette’s eyes were slightly swollen, as if she had spent some time crying. She resolved to talk to Lisette later.

Hugh relaxed a bit as Jax, William, Simon, and Graham joined him on the griddle of public scrutiny. He especially enjoyed Graham’s uncharacteristic outburst of temper over the tales of howls and pleas for mercy supposedly heard coming from his chamber. But just as Hugh was warming again, a familiar voice rang out from the main doors of the hall, and he froze entirely.

“Where’s my son?” the Earl of Sennet roared, snatching a flagon of ale out of a young knight’s hand and downing it as he strode down the hall. “There he is, with his lovely bride! Ye gods, look at them—there’s no doubt he got the wife-making done, eh?”

The laughter that generated grated visibly on every nerve in Hugh’s body. He looked at Chloe’s crimson face, rose, and offered her his hand to usher her from his father’s presence. They hadn’t reached the door when the king arrived with news of the birth of another son, and congratulations erupted in the hall, overshadowing even the tantalizing curiosity about the wedding nights of the Brides of Virtue.

It was later, just past midday, that the king summoned the newly wedded couples to his privy chamber and with a notable absence of fanfare, ordered them to return to their homes forthwith and begin their lives together. There was no discussion, and no reason was given for so abrupt a dismissal. But as they filed out, it was clear in their minds that such an order was meant to disperse the duke’s daughters throughout the countryside and diffuse whatever danger they might still face.

Arrangements had to be made quickly; dowry divided, mounts and wagons secured, escorts arranged. The husbands saw to the preparations for the next morning’s departure, leaving their wives to collect with Lady Marcella one last time in the room they had shared as maids. It was hard to believe, after all they had been through together, that this might be the last time they would see each other. They chatted about their new homes and shared secrets about their new husbands, and played with Lady Marcella’s new puppy. The gift from the old Earl of Ketchum
to
the maids had become a gift
from
the maids to their dear guide and chaperone, to ease the heartache of her earlier loss. It was reassuring to see the old lady’s careworn face brighten as she watched the little beast gambol and yip and try to chew everyone’s slippers.

When night fell and the time came for them to return to their separate beds, they grew quiet and tearful, and hugged Chloe one by one before they slipped out. When only Lisette and Lady Marcella remained, Lisette seemed reluctant to leave and clung to Chloe’s hand.

“Is something wrong?” Chloe asked, rubbing the back of Lisette’s hand reassuringly.

“No.
I mean, not really. It’s nothing I cannot deal with.” Lisette was choosing her words carefully, leaving things unsaid. Anxiety bloomed in her face, causing Chloe’s heart to sink. There must be a terrible problem indeed to make determined and optimistic Lisette so gloomy and uncertain. “It’s just that Graham … he seems to be so … uncomfortable with me and …” Tears rolled. “I think he would have preferred to marry someone else.”

“Oh, tell him to quit whinin’ and act like a man,” Lady Marcella spoke up, surprising them both. “So he didn’t get his pick. How many of us do in life? You’re a handsome woman, Lissie … made for howlin’ three times a night.” The old lady narrowed her eyes. “Tell ’im to eat hearty an’ count his blessings.”

Chloe and Lisette both smiled at the old lady’s mutinous expression.

“She’s right,” Chloe said thickly, squeezing Lisette’s hands. “He is lucky to have you. Just give it some time.”

Lisette nodded and gave both Chloe and Lady Marcella a huge hug. “Thank you for reminding me.” She swiped at her tears and straightened. “We wouldn’t have passed the wife test if we didn’t belong together.”

Chloe stood biting her lip, staring at the door after Lisette left, and Lady Marcella came to put an arm around her, saying, “She’ll be fine, that one.”

“I hope so.”

Five small traveling parties left Windsor the next morning, the first just at daybreak and others over the course of the next several hours. Chloe had hoped to see her sisters one more time, but as they departed at different hours, from different locations, she counted herself lucky even to catch a glimpse of Helen and Lord Simon departing for his home to the south.

As she stood on the steps of the great hall, pulling her cloak tighter against the breeze, she felt a terrible sense of loneliness and loss. This was inevitable, this parting of their ways, but it hurt all the same. To lose her sisters just as she had begun to feel they were family …

It would be so much easier if she had any idea where she was headed and what Sir Hugh’s home was like. But she had had no chance to speak with him about it. He had been late returning to their chamber last night, and she was so exhausted that she fell asleep while waiting for him. He hadn’t disturbed her when he came to bed, and he had already risen and dressed that morning when she awoke.

Midmorning he escorted her into the great hall, where they bade the king farewell and he wished them safe travel. The Duke of Avalon, still under the constant escort of the Earl of Norwich, was present in the hall and heard the exchange of farewells. He seemed agitated by the news that they were departing and intercepted them as they neared the main doors. As Hugh responded to his inquiries about the location of the Sennets’ estates, it was clear that the duke was more interested in Chloe; his eyes never left her. Then, in wishing them well, he gave Chloe a kiss on the forehead that was filled with unsettling emotion.

The strange encounter with the duke had weighted Chloe’s already drooping spirits as they emerged into the gray weather. Now as she stood waiting for the horses and wagons, her throat tightened and tears formed in her eyes. When Hugh arrived with a gentle-looking young mare and helped her mount, she tried not to let him see how much leaving affected her.

Glancing away, her gaze fell on one of the wagons … the driver, to be exact. The fellow looked up and caught her staring at him. A grin spread over his face. It was Mattias. Tears of pure relief rolled down her cheeks at the sight of his grizzled face, and she sent him a heartfelt smile. He pointed behind him, and shortly she was waving at Withers and Willum and Fenster, mounted on horses behind the wagons. Suddenly she didn’t feel half so alone.

They were well down the winding road that led north, when several mounted men-at-arms came charging straight into the middle of their party. Immediately Hugh went for his blade and wheeled to put his horse between them and Chloe.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” he snarled, glaring at the leader of the intruders.

“Going to my home. With my son,” the Earl of Sennet declared with a defiant smile that developed an admiring glint as it turned on Chloe. “And my new daughter-in-law.”

Hugh had only one word for that.

“Damnation.”

That evening the great hall of Windsor seemed strangely drab and empty. The excitement of the maids’ presence and the intrigues of the wife test had been a welcome diversion for king and courtiers alike. Even as the last of the couples was leaving Windsor, the stories of their time there were being told and retold. No one loved the recounting more than Lord Bromley. And there was no audience more attentive than the Duke of Avalon. Since he was no longer an official prisoner of war, diplomatic courtesy demanded that Edward show the French duke full hospitality until he could provide an escort to the coast. Avalon was invited into the great hall, where he listened intently to every detail of Bromley’s account of the maids’ arrival and adventures, which was embroidered and amended by the comments of others, including the aged Lady Marcella.

The old lady was eager to tell her version of events … until she spotted the Duke of Avalon, and her nephew made a formal introduction. Something rumbled up out of memory, and she stuck her face into the duke’s and glared at him from close up, searching his fleshy face and fine clothes.

“Manfred? A
French
Manfred?” she said with a sudden display of contempt that astonished her nephew. She rose and spat. “Go home.”

Manfred, Duke of Avalon watched the old lady hobble away and avoided Bromley’s unsettled look to glance at the English king.

“Not yet, old woman,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

* * *

Miles away, in London, a ship that had just crossed the Channel and followed the tides up the Thames was unloading passengers onto a London quay. Most of the travelers thudded down the gangplank and trudged off on their own solitary way. But there was one passenger, a thickset man dressed in simple woolens and incongruously elegant boots, who was met by a small cadre of what appeared to be sailors and waterfront toughs.

Without a word exchanged, he recognized and fell in amongst them. They led him through several narrow, dank alleyways to a small tavern with sleeping rooms above. It was only when they were inside the low, cramped chamber and the door was safely bolted that he removed his cloak and turned on the leader.