The Winter Mantle (43 page)

His hands delved to her buttocks, tilted them upwards, and with a groan he thrust into her full measure, once and then again. The pain blossomed in a raw, red starburst, but so did the pleasure and she sobbed, her body drawing each pulse of his seed deep within her womb.

He groaned softly against her throat and continued to rock gently upon her, the first violent surge spent. Gentler waves of pleasure followed each other through Matilda's loins and she shifted, seeking the echoes of the wild delight she had just known.

Slowly, with much greater effort than it had taken to mount her, Simon withdrew. 'I am sorry if I hurt you,' he said. 'I would have given you greater joy but…' He made a shrugging gesture serve for the rest.

Greater joy
? So there was more than this? The bed, being intended for guests, was large enough for them to he side by side and not even have to touch unless they wanted to, but Matilda wanted to. She needed the closeness. 'It is true that I am sore,' she said. Indeed, now that the throb of pleasure had diminished, she was aware of the tenderness of bruised tissues, 'But I do not know how you could have given me greater joy than you did just now.'

He faced her and the faintest of smiles curved his narrow mouth. 'By not giving you pain,' he said, 'I am not accustomed to deflowering virgins.'

Matilda raised her eyebrows at that. 'No?'

'Very few men are, whatever tales you hear,' he said wryly. 'The only virgins that have come my way have either been heavily chaperoned by their families or spoils of war. And since I am not a man given over to rape and debauchery, the latter fruit has never appealed to me — unlike some.'

'So all the women you have known have been experienced?' Matilda felt a pang of jealousy, followed by fear. How was she. who knew nothing, ever going to measure up?

'That is so.'

'Have there been many?'

His lips twitched. 'One or two. Several in my youth who were more use to me than I was to them.'

Matilda lowered her gaze from his face, not wanting to read his expression. Her eyes happened upon his erection. Before it had seemed an enormous thing, quivering with a life of its own; now it was much diminished, curving towards his thigh, the taut sheath wrinkling. The sight fascinated her and she realised anew how ingenious God was.

'What?' he said, tilting her face on his forefinger so that she had to meet his gaze.

She caught her underlip in her teeth. 'I was thinking that it is a good thing that a man's part is able to diminish as it does,' she said. 'Otherwise it would be a great hindrance to every activity but mating.'

He roared with laughter at that, and Matilda's heart fluttered. This morning she had not known of the existence of this slender, unprepossessing man. Now she wore his ring on her finger, was naked by his side, and had taken his seed into her womb. Already she could be with his child.

'A man would say that it is a good thing for both sexes that it is able to rise as it does,' he commented. Pillowing his hands behind his head, he yawned hugely, 'Not that mine will do any more rising this night, unless you are truly a worker of miracles.' He glanced at her, his lids heavy and dark smudges beneath them. 'However that is because weariness outstrips lust on this occasion. It will not always be so.'

She was not sure what he meant so she just gave him a smile and made a resolution to find out as much as she could from Helisende. Sybille was the usual font of such wisdom, but being her mother's maid was unavailable to ask. The thought of facing her mother in the morning caused a small jolt of trepidation to run through her and she moved closer to her new husband, seeking the comfort of his body.

His eyes had closed, but with obvious effort he opened them. 'You will never regret this marriage, I swear to you,' he mumbled, and tucked a wild strand of her hair tenderly behind her ear.

'You need give me no assurances,' she whispered in reply and pressed herself against his naked warmth. 'I know in my own heart that I could have done no better for myself than this.'

'Mayhap,' he said and kissed her fingers. Moments after that he was asleep, his breathing deep and even, with a slight catch at the top of each breath. Matilda lay against him, watching the glitter of the garnet cross in the light from the single candle. She whispered his name like a talisman. Girls dreamed of love and talked of it with their maids and companions. They flirted with the squires and knights of their fathers' retinues; they set their fancy on passing troubadours. But love had come to Matilda in a single hammer blow, and its image was not that of a tall, fair young man bearing gifts and songs, but of a slightly built soldier with a damaged leg and a baggage wain full of cares.

Laying her cheek against the smooth curve of his bicep, feeling beneath her the soft prickle of her father's bearskin cloak, she was content.

The instant Judith opened her eyes she knew that something was wrong. Too overwrought to rest, she had dozed throughout the night, such sleep as she had managed beset by dark, unpleasant dreams. Now, jerked to awareness by a stealing sensation of unease, she sat up. The large night candle had burned low on the wrought iron pricket, but more lights were blossoming in the doorway and she could hear Sybille's swift murmur.

Judith flung back the covers and stood up. Whatever was happening, she would go to meet it, head on as she always had. She more than half expected the disturbance to be that of Simon de Senlis' soldiers, coming to imprison her. It would be their shame, not hers, if they were to take her in her chemise, her hair uncovered.

'What is happening?' She raised her voice imperiously. Hearing it cut across the air, as it had always done, gave her a boost of confidence. And then she saw Matilda and she froze. The girl was wearing yesterday's blue gown. Her hair was decorously concealed beneath her wimple and, at first glance, there was nothing untoward about her appearance. However the fact that she was entering the room gave Judith cause for concern because she could not recall her leaving. She must have crept from the chamber very circumspectly indeed. A swift glance at Matilda's pallet revealed the girl's subterfuge; the bedclothes were mounded in the shape of a sleeping body. What disturbed
Judith most, though, was the look on her daughter's face. The heavy lids, the flushed cheeks told their own vivid story.

'Where have you been?' she demanded. 'If you have been conniving behind my back, I will never forgive you.'

Matilda lifted her head in defiance and Judith saw Waltheof clearly in the line of jaw and thrust of chin. 'I have done no more conniving than you, Mother,' she said defensively. 'Simon de Senlis knows of your plans, but he will not stand in your way if you wish to leave.'

Judith gave her daughter a look filled with disdain. 'I do not need his yeasay to do as I please.' Her voice was deadly with control. 'I am mistress here yet.'

Matilda drew a deep breath and clasped her hands against her breasts. 'No, Mother, you are not. Last night I was married to Simon de Senlis. I wear his ring on my finger and the match has been witnessed and consummated.'

The words poured over Judith like an icy drench. 'That is impossible. I have given no consent to the match.'

'But I gave mine,' Matilda said. 'Our vows were taken in the presence of Father Bertulf. He's not only Simon's chaplain, but also an ordained priest of St Stephen's in Caen. I was not forced. I agreed to the marriage of my own will.'

'You have been duped!' A red mist hazed Judith's vision. 'All that Simon de Senlis wants is the sanction of your blood to bolster his position. This marriage would not stand up for one moment in a court of law.'

'Why don't you test it and see, my lady.' Simon emerged from the gloom of the doorway. He was wearing a fresh tunic of tawny wool that reflected his eyes. His sword was girded at his hip, and his left hand lightly grasped the buckskin grip. 'I doubt you will find it other than watertight.' He went to stand beside Matilda and possessively took her hand. He raised his bride's hand to his lips, pressed a kiss in the palm and curled her fingers over it.

Judith felt sick. 'You have betrayed me!' she hissed at her daughter. 'In truth, you have your father's blood, for he was weak and unsteady of purpose too. It was his downfall, and now it will be yours.'

'No, Mother, you were
his
downfall,' Matilda retorted.

'You were just a child, how could you know?' Judith spat bitterly. 'All you had were his kisses and adoration. You did not see his indecision and the way that he would take refuge from it in drink. You did not see the times I had to follow him like a parent, clearing away the debris of his mistakes.' She stabbed her forefinger. 'You did not see his fecklessness and stupidity. It was I who had to live with that '

Matilda had flushed beneath Judith's onslaught as if each word were a slap across the face. 'No,' she said in a trembling voice, 'I did not see, because he was my father and I loved him. But I do not believe he ever received love or even respect from you, Mother. Sometimes…' she swallowed. 'Sometimes I think that you hated him.'

'I hated his weakness.' Suddenly Judith's eyes were stinging. 'Think what you will of my feelings for your father. It will not alter the truth.'

De Senlis laid his hand on Matilda's shoulder. 'Enough,' he said gently. 'You will tear each other to pieces. Lady Judith, if it please you, my men will escort you wherever you wish to go, I do not think it appropriate that you remain here for the moment.'

Judith flashed him a glare of utter loathing, which was met by an implacable shield wall of courtesy. She had spoken of her husband's errors of judgement, but now she wondered if she had made one of her own in refusing him. It had been an instinctive choice, born of the memory of seeing him as a child at the royal court, and then as an invalid, his handicap the indirect result of her carelessness. She had not wanted the humiliation of yielding her personal governance to De Senlis. If she had quashed her pride she could at least have had half a loaf. Now there were not even crumbs, and in one fell swoop her daughter had snatched the title of Countess for herself.

'I would not stay even if this was my last place of refuge,'

she said scornfully. 'At least her father, whatever his faults, did not come like a thief in the night.'

The remark bounced off his blank expression like a blunt spear off a hardwood shield. It was her daughter who flinched as if wounded. De Senlis was right. They were tearing each other apart.

She turned to summon Jude, who had been watching the proceedings with widening eyes, but De Senlis pre-empted her.

'I am desirous that your younger daughter remain with her sister,' he said in that same, quiet tone that left room for neither discussion nor argument. 'She is more easily protected under my jurisdiction - and I believe that she will be the happier for remaining here.'

Judith's knees almost gave way. 'And if I refuse to yield her?'

His shoulders twitched in the slightest of shrugs. 'There is little you can do to gainsay my will, my lady. Accept it with a good grace, and in return I will be gracious too.'

Nausea churned Judith's stomach and the taste of defeat was in her mouth. He was right. She could do little until she reached her family - save perhaps salvage her dignity.