They had all eaten heartily, the ladies perhaps a little less than the gentlemen, although both Skye and Aidan enjoyed good food. Now suddenly into the hall came Erwina herself bearing a silver tray upon which rested an exquisitely decorated little wedding cake complete with a spun sugar bride and groom. The fat cook was beaming from ear to ear with her own pleasure at this feat. Boldly she strode up to the high board, and plunked her offering down before Conn and Aidan.
“Mag tells me, my lord and my lady, that ye had no time for a proper wedding feast or the cake because of the hurried nature of yer nuptials. We love ye, my lady, and we would have ye remember yer marriage celebration even if it is a few days after the fact.” Then she curtsied, the look upon Aidan’s face telling her that she had made her lady very happy.
But it was Conn who spoke first. “Yer a fine woman, Mrs. Erwina, and one of great sensitivity. The court is a fabulous place, but there could be no real celebration for my lady and myself until we came home to
Pearroc Royal,
and her people who are our family. Thank ye all!”
“Oh, yes, Erwina! Thank ye from the bottom of our hearts,” Aidan managed to say for she was still overcome with the thoughtfulness of the cook.
Conn saw that most of the servants had crowded into the hall now, and he called to Beal. “Wine for everyone, Beal. We should appreciate everyone’s good wishes.”
Beal had anticipated his lord’s request, and in short order everyone within the Great Hall had been given a draft. On the butler’s command they raised their cups and cried out, “Long life, prosperity, and many children to ye!”
When the toast had been drunk Aidan and Conn sliced into the wedding cake, and everyone in the hall was given a little bit of Erwina’s wonderful confection. The unmarried maidservants kept part of their portions, for they intended to sleep with it beneath their pillows this very night, and dream of their true loves. Everyone else, however, enjoyed the treat with much lip smacking before returning to their duties. When the hall had emptied save for the two couples, and those serving them, Aidan arose from her place.
“We have been several days on the road from Greenwich,” she said, “and I should very much like to bathe before I retire. Will ye excuse me?” Then with a pretty curtsy she departed up the stairs. Gaining her chamber she discovered to her delight that Mag had already anticipated her desire. To one side of the fireplace which was merrily burning with scented apple logs the large oak tub had been brought and filled. Warm steam, redolent with lavender, perfumed the room.
“Oh, Mag, bless ye!”
“Do I not know ye?” huffed the older woman affectionately. “Not that I approve of all that bathing ye do but it’s harmless enough, I suppose. Here! Let me help ye with those laces, my lady.” She kept up a steady line of chatter as she worked to undress her mistress, taking the clothing into Aidan’s dressing room which was adjacent to the bedchamber, and putting it away but for the underclothing which she would take to the laundress. In very short order Aidan was settled in her tub, seated upon a small wooden stool, her hair pinned atop her head. The fragrant water was just the right temperature, and felt wonderful after several days on the road, and nothing but little basins in which she could only wash her face and her hands.
“This is heaven, Mag.”
Mag chuckled. “Yer just happy to be home, my lady.”
“That too, but how I missed bathing in this marvelous tub when we were at court! That little thing we carried with us was barely big enough to contain me, and my knees were always sticking up out of the water, and getting cold.”
“And the good silver we had to bribe them uppity footmen of the queen’s with in order to get some hot water,” said Mag. “I hope yer not going to be of a mind to travel again soon. The inconveniences are not to be borne, my lady.”
“Nay, Mag. I don’t ever want to leave
Pearroc Royal
again! Why should we? I do not think my lord is of a mind to either. I know he will love it here when he sees the estate, and gets to know everybody.”
Mag nodded. “He seems a sensible sort for all he’s an Irishman. The Blessed Mother only knows that we come from a land of dreamers, poets, and fools, yet my lord seems a good man, and I like his lady sister, and her husband. They have welcomed ye nicely, my chick, and the gossip in the servants’ hall is that they are good people. Yer dear lord father, may God assoil his soul, would have approved this match ye’ve made.” She gathered up Aidan’s stockings and undergarments from the pile in which she’d placed them. “Ye sit quietly and soak now, my lady. I’ll just take these things to Leoma for washing. Ye know how she dislikes having the laundry pile up.” The door clicked closed behind Mag.
Aidan settled herself deep into the oily water. She could have sworn that she felt her winter-dry skin soaking it up. The fire crackled cheerily in the grate while outside the windows the wind moaned softly, but steadily as the tempo of the storm increased. In the deep silence she could almost hear the snowflakes falling, and she sensed that the weather would not break for at least another day, but it mattered not. They were snug and safe at last. They were home. With a deep sigh she closed her eyes and relaxed, enjoying the wonderful feeling of contentment that she had not felt in months.
There had been no contentment for her at Elizabeth Tudor’s court. As one of the queen’s women she had been at her majesty’s command virtually twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Her place in the queen’s service had been relatively unimportant, but Elizabeth had liked Aidan, giving her a status of sorts. Then, too, as an orphan she had had no family obligations to distract her, and when she had a little free time she usually spent it taking the place of one of the other girls who needed, or simply desired, to get away.
For the first time in her life Aidan had been lonely. She lived amid a sea of people, and yet she was lonely. She had not pursued her connection to the Earl and Countess of Lincoln, afraid they might learn of her vast wealth, and claim of the queen the privilege of marrying her off to one of their own thereby usurping her fortune for themselves. The earl stood high in Elizabeth’s favor.
Fortunately the Clintons had not considered Aidan’s case a particularly pressing matter assuming her at court for the duration, and therefore at their disposal. Elizabeth Clinton was one of the queen’s favorite people, and she was really a kindly woman, but her husband’s interests came first. She had made certain that the other women who served the queen knew of her relationship to Aidan, and because of that Aidan was not abused by those ladies as was often the case with one who was seemingly unprotected by a powerful family, and lacking in wealth and influence.
Still Aidan had felt isolated from everything around her for the very habits she cultivated in order to give her time to acclimate herself to this strange and hurly-burly world she was now part of, had in reality served to blend her into the colorful background of the court. Her simplicity of dress, and lack of ornamentation had accentuated her plainness. But rarely did she sprout fine feathers, and then no one recognized her as anyone they knew. Her education and intellect separated her from the other girls, and put off many of the older women who had lacked her advantages. Only with the queen did she dare to be herself for with the women who were her equal she dared not put herself forward lest she be considered bold, and make enemies.
So Aidan was modest and diffident to others. A quiet, apparently colorless girl whom almost no one ever noticed, and as a consequence she was lonely. There were times when days went by without anyone at all speaking to her except in relation to her duties. Had it not been for her faithful Mag, who each night regaled her mistress with all the latest court gossip, Aidan would have been totally alone. She was not unhappy, however. She had no time to be, or to feel sorry for herself for the court was far too fascinating a place, and so very different from anything she had ever known. Then, too, the court had brought her her husband.
Conn.
She shifted restlessly in her tub. Conn, who she was suddenly realizing was a great deal more than his reputation for pranks, and debauchery, and fair face would warrant. He had taken control of their journey quite capably, and he had treated her with respect and gentleness. There was nothing of the boy in him despite the fact she was his senior by almost a full year; and he was certainly unlike anyone she had ever known before. Aidan was beginning to realize that although she had chosen the most beautiful stallion in the herd, he might possibly be the hardest of all to tame. Conn wasn’t like other men.
“Is the water still warm, sweetheart?”
Aidan started, her heart leaping at the sound of his voice. She moved her hands to shield her breasts only afterward realizing that the water covered her.
“Is the water yet warm?” Conn repeated. His eyes were surveying her with sudden interest although he could see nothing but her shoulders, neck and a surprised face.
“A-aye, the water is quite pleasant, my lord,” she managed to stammer.
“Good! Then I’ll join ye. That fine old oak tub was made for two people.” Calmly he began stripping off his clothes, and Aidan squeezed her eyes tightly closed.
Then as suddenly she opened them up again. The front, Skye had said, was the more interesting for ’twas there the manroot lodged, and as she had already decided that tonight she would give her husband her virginity, she might just as well look her fate in the eye in a manner of speaking. She giggled, and he looked curiously at her.
“What amuses ye? Make no jokes about my legs, madame, I warn ye. They are overlong, I warrant, but I do not look like a heron as some have dared to suggest!”
“ ’Twas not yer legs I was contemplating, sir,” she answered him pertly, and then blushed at her own words.
Conn roared with laughter and he flung his shirt aside. His green eyes twinkled with delight, and he wondered once again about this wise yet shy girl he found himself married to. “What is it then, madame, about my person that interests ye?” he teased her cocking his head, and arching one very black eyebrow.
“What is between yer legs,” she answered him bluntly. “I’ve closed my eyes each night when ye’ve undressed, but Skye says ’tis the front of a man that’s more interesting. I was just thinking about it . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she blushed again.
He chuckled softly, pleased to see her exhibit a natural curiosity of his body. Too many lasses were falsely modest when it came to their men. His older sisters back in Ireland were proof of that. Tight-lipped and sour women who disapproved of Skye and her passion for life; who clucked their sharp tongues at their sister Eibhlin, the doctoring nun, whom they believed should have remained cloistered in her convent on her knees instead of roaming the countryside healing the sick, rich and poor alike; and who had on his only visit home since he had come to England with Skye, scolded him roundly about his gaiety and lustful behavior. Even his own pretty mother had never remarried, though he knew that she had had chances enough. Once he asked her why she hadn’t remarried.
“No one,” said Anne O’Malley, “could take yer father’s place,” but then he had overheard her speaking with her tiring woman about a persistent suitor. “I have obeyed the teachings of the holy church, Bridget, and I gave my husband children. Four sons in all, but I’ll never be victim to a man’s passions again. I’ve just never enjoyed it. If only one could be married to a man and just be friends.”
“Aye,” agreed Bridget, “but ’tis not the nature of a man, m’lady. They always want to be dipping their wicks into one honeypot or another, and a poor wife has no choice but to submit.”
Conn pulled off his boots, and then peeled his trunk hose off his muscled form. Standing straight he looked directly at his wide-eyed wife saying, “Well, madame, do I meet, pass, or fall short of yer expectations?”
Aidan’s serious gray eyes took him in from the top of his night-dark hair to his toes. He was as handsome without his clothing as he was with his clothing. There was a thick mat of tight curly hair spread across his broad chest that narrowed into a thin line between his rib cage down over his pelvis, and ending in a lavish black bush between his long, shapely legs. There, she noted, was lodged what appeared to be a small white sausage, slightly and delicately curved, and lying amongst the dark curls. “It isn’t very big,” she said without thinking.
“Ye’ve not yet attracted its interest,” he answered her, and mounting the steps to the tub, he lowered himself into the water which came up to his waist. He sniffed. “Lavender? I’m going to smell like an herb garden!”
Aidan had been seated upon a stool within her tub. Now she slipped from her perch to stand facing him. “I did not invite ye to share my tub, my lord. ’Twas of yer own free will ye entered it.” Her heart was beating wildly, and she was very amazed by her own boldness. It suddenly dawned upon her that she was standing stark naked in her tub with a man who was equally unclothed.
He saw the play of emotions across her face, and correctly guessed her thoughts. “Aye, lass,” he drawled softly, “there can be no going back now.” Then he pulled her into his arms, and lowering his head to hers began to slowly kiss her long, sweet, lingering kisses. Her fragrant wet body, surprised by his quickness, relaxed against him to his pleasure, and he felt his desire begin to awaken and stir.
The hair upon his chest tickled and irritated her nipples. She squirmed uneasily against him, but her head was whirling and she felt dizzy with the heat of the bath and his embrace. Nervously she placed her palms flat against his chest as if to hold him off. Conn kissed the corners of her mouth with his tongue sending a small flash of weakness through her.
“Aidan,” he breathed against her lips. “Aidan, my sweet, prim little wife.” One arm about her waist he allowed his other hand to move upward to cup a breast.