Always (17 page)

Aric caught her thighs and pressed them open again as he laved her, aware that sweat was beading on and rolling off his forehead. His body was as stiff and hard as a sword, and he was hard-pressed not to simply shift between her legs and thrust himself into her. Her passion was a living thing, her response as free and unrepressed as any man could wish—and she was driving him crazy. Mewls, sighs, gasps, and groans were coming from her lips with little concern for propriety. Her body was thrusting and arching. Her head was thrashing back and forth as if she were in the throes of a seizure. Her nipples were pebbles on her goosefleshed breasts that cried for his attention. Her eyes were squeezed shut. Her hands were clenched frenziedly in the bed linens. And all his body wanted was to drive itself deep into her and find the warm, wet home it ached for. Yet he was determined to make up for that first debacle, that hellish consummation, so he controlled himself.

But she was making it damned hard. Her desire heated his own, and he watched in fascination as she struggled with her body's need. Just when he thought he might explode without ever even entering her, a high, piercing cry suddenly streamed from her lips, her body bucking beneath him as she sobbed out in release.

Aric was on his knees at once. Positioning himself between her thighs and clasping her buttocks, he raised her slightly and slid smoothly into her. He saw her eyes open in surprise as she caught her breath; then her eyes dropped closed again and her tongue came out to lick at her upper lip briefly as she arched into him. Now she was moving with him, shuddering, raising her hips to his, whimpering with passion. His own excitement increased
by hers, Aric met her push for push, startled when he felt her hands suddenly at his buttocks, drawing him in, her nails digging into his behind and urging him on. Then she threw her head back and cried out as passion overwhelmed her again, and Aric felt himself explode within her.

 

Aric lay on the bed on his back, his hands caught beneath his head, his eyes closed, and a smile curving his lips. He was rather proud of himself. He felt rather like a stud bull. He had performed even beyond his hopes. His timing had been impeccable, his rhythm perfect. He knew he had given his wife immeasurable pleasure. He need never fear her disliking the marital bed again. This was a new beginning for them. Aye, he was sure he had wiped their first time completely from her mind.

A muffled sob caught his ear and erased his smile, replacing it with a frown. A second one brought his eyes open and his head around to peer at his wife with alarm. She had rolled away from him and now lay half on her side and half on her stomach, her shoulders trembling with the depth of her emotion as she wept into the linens. Aric gaped at her briefly, totally bewildered at this reaction to what they had just done; then another escaping sob made him draw himself up to a half-sitting position and reach over to rub her back comfortingly.

“Wife?” he murmured uncertainly, frowning when her shoulders merely began to shake all the harder. “Wife?”

Concern drawing at his features, he moved his hand to her shoulder and rolled her onto her back, determined to give her comfort. His head jerked back, however, his eyes widening incredulously when he saw that she hadn't been sobbing at all, but was in a paroxysm of laughter. Scowling as the almost hysterical laughter continued, now unmuffled, he glared at her.

“Just what is so damned amusing?”

“I…It…Ohhhh.” She gasped breathlessly around
her laughter, then managed, “I thought I would rather wash the abbey floor in winter.” When Aric blinked at her in confusion, her laughter deepened. She rolled a bit on the bed before her laughter slowed enough for her to explain. “Oh, my lord. Truly, Eustice did not have a clue about it.”

Aric frowned slightly. “The nun?”

“Aye.” Rosamunde giggled, then mimicked the woman, “‘Well, you've seen the animals. 'Tis just like that.'” Shaking her head, she laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. Aric smiled wryly until she said, “You must have thought me the veriest fool! No wonder you have coddled me so. Even I would have refused to allow me out of the keep and near the stables were I in your position.”

“Aye, well, regarding the stables,” he muttered, then grimaced. He had not really coddled her, though it might seem so to her, but he had been rather harsh about her tending to the animals in the stables. Even Shrewsbury had taken him to task for that. And all because he feared her being unfaithful.

Fear was an awful thing. It could make prisoners out of men. In this case, it seemed his fear had been likely to make a prisoner of his wife. For that was the only way to keep her from all temptation, to lock her alone in a tower of the castle. And he had been well on his way to doing that, he realized with dismay. Oh, certainly, he had only restricted her to the castle as yet, but he had noticed at the table this night that there were an awful lot of men in the hall, and he had worried over his wife's curiosity about them. No doubt, eventually he would have denied her the hall, then the kitchens…. They had a male cook after all. Aye, Aric had been headed down a dangerous path. It was time to head down a different one. Tonight was a new beginning after all.

Aye, he would allow her access to the stables, he decided now. Smithy had told him that she had assisted
him with the horses on the way here and claimed that she was exceptionally knowledgeable and had a special way with them.

That had not surprised him terribly. She had spent most of her life in the abbey stables, nursing and tending to the beasts. Aye, mayhap he was wrong to deny her that. He would allow her access to the stables—men or no men. He would not have her miserable, as Shrewsbury claimed she was, he thought, then frowned at her next words.

“And to think I wondered why Father Abernott was forever lecturing against adultery. 'Tis no wonder it happens so often if 'tis always as pleasurable as this.” Shaking her head in slight wonder, she glanced at him curiously. “What were you saying about the stables, my lord?”

Aric stared at her tight-lipped for a moment, his mind closing like a steel trap. He snapped, “If I ever catch you there again, I'll lock you in this room for a week.” Then, flouncing onto his side away from her, he glared at the wall by the door, determinedly ignoring the startled and even slightly injured eyes he knew must be digging into his back.

Rosamunde ripped her dark bread in half with a sigh, then ripped it in half again, the action accompanied by another sigh. She was tired this morning. It had to do with the fact that she had been awakened repeatedly in the night by her husband. The first time she had awakened from an incredibly erotic dream to find that it wasn't a dream at all; her husband was teaching her some more about the truth of what went on in the marital bed. A small smile pulled at her lips now as she recalled the night, the passion, the many times she had awakened to a new experience. It made her shake her head to realize just how many different ways there were to do “it.” Animals really were missing out. And Eustice…Well, her lack of experience in the matter was more than obvious.

Rosamunde rolled her eyes slightly at her own naiveté on her wedding day and felt herself blush as she recalled perching on her hands and knees on the bed fully clothed. Good Lord, Aric must have thought her a turnip. That
thought was followed by another sigh as her smile faded, because it was becoming perfectly obvious that he still thought her one. Apparently she was good for nothing but sitting about in the keep, twiddling her fingers. It was the only reason she could think of for why he refused to let her go to the stables. He didn't think she was capable of anything worthwhile.

“My, my, my. What long, drawn-out sighs are these from a newly married lady?”

Glancing around with a start, Rosamunde saw Lord Spencer approaching the table. He was leaning heavily on his servant, Joseph, and seemed in a lot of pain. Realizing that his joints must be giving him some trouble, she felt her lips curve with concern, but tried to keep it from her voice as she murmured a good morning.

“And good morning to you, too,” he responded, easing onto the trestle table's bench beside her. “But you have not answered my question. What could cause such unhappy sighs from a lovely lady still newly wed?”

Rosamunde started to sigh again, then caught herself and smiled wryly. “'Tis just—” she began, then cut that off as well, not wishing to betray her husband by complaining. “'Tis just that I miss the abbess and the other women from Godstow,” she muttered finally, for that was part of the truth.

“Ah. I suspect 'tis more than the good ladies of the abbey you are missing,” Lord Spencer surprised her by saying. “I suspect that you miss your work in the stables there as well, do you not?”

“How did you know?” she asked with amazement, and he smiled wryly.

“I may be blind, my lady, but I am not deaf—though people often seem to think one goes with the other when speaking around me.” He grinned slightly, then reached out to feel about for her hand. He then patted it affectionately, as if to assure her that she was not one of those people of whom he spoke. “Bishop Shrewsbury men
tioned it yesterday, first in the stables, then at the table after you left.”

“Oh. I see,” Rosamunde murmured, beginning to toy with her food again. “Aye, well, the stables are where I spent most of my time at the abbey,” she explained uncomfortably after a moment. “I worked with the animals there and…aye, I guess I miss it.”

“I take it the bishop's words have not swayed young Aric in allowing you to work in them, then?”

“He does not wish me anywhere near the stables,” she muttered gloomily.

“Ah.” The old man sighed and shook his head. “So I gathered yesterday. Well, perhaps if he will not allow you to go to the stables, we could bring the stables to you,” he murmured mysteriously, but before Rosamunde could question him, he turned his head slightly, paused briefly as if listening, then called out, “Good morn to you, my lord. I trust you slept well?”

Turning in her seat, Rosamunde saw Aric descending the stairs. A warm smile of greeting immediately curved her lips as her gaze slid over him. Her memory was presenting her with various images of him from the night before—and he wasn't clothed in a single one.

 

Aric felt some of the tension that had been gripping him since awakening loosen as he spied his wife at the table. Much to his annoyance, she had been gone ere he awoke again, but her expression now went a long way toward soothing him. Her lips were slightly parted, a warm smile of greeting playing upon them, and her eyes were smoky with secret thoughts he suspected had to do with her activities of the night before. Activities that now filled his mind.

He had been like a starving man presented with a feast last night, gorging himself on the pleasure of her body, never feeling quite sated, never getting quite enough. At least not for long. Even his irritation with her comments
about adultery had not ruined his appetite for more than a few moments. Oh, aye, he had rolled away in a snit and stared at the wall until finally dropping off into a fitful doze. But it couldn't have been more than an hour later that he found himself awakening from an erotic dream about the woman lying asleep next to him. He had peered at her sweet face in repose for a moment, silently drinking in her beauty, but had been unable to resist touching her. Touching had led to kissing, and kissing to tasting her sweet, tender flesh, and that in turn had led to…

Aric had rested again afterward, only to awaken hungry for her once more a short time later. And so had gone the night: wanting her, taking her, resting. Then wanting her again. This morning, he had awakened wanting her again which was why he had been so annoyed to find her gone. Looking at her now as her tongue crept out to wet her parted lips, Aric knew that if Lord Spencer were not present, he would be hard-pressed not to lift her onto the table and take her right there.
Hell, maybe I should just drag her back upstairs and––

“My lord?”

Blinking at Lord Spencer's voice, Aric tore his eyes from his wife and glanced toward the old man seated beside her. Only then did he realize that while his mind had wandered, his feet had halted before his wife. He had just spent who knew how long simply gazing down at her like a randy teenager.

“I slept well enough,” he answered at last, his tone a bit short as he forced himself away from his wife and toward the lord's chair. It was a high-backed, carved monstrosity that Lord Spencer had insisted he take over. “And you?”

“Very well, thank you,” the old man answered, seeming to follow Aric's progress along the table despite his blind eyes. He waited until Aric had seated himself on the other side of Rosamunde and been presented with a beverage and cold cheese and bread before saying, “I had an
idea just ere I was drifting off to sleep last night, my lord.”

“Oh?” Aric murmured absently as he picked up the cheese. His gaze wandered to his wife's fingers as she absently shredded a hunk of bread. She had long, lovely fingers. He had noticed last night, while kissing each of them individually, then sucking them into his mouth one at a time and rolling his tongue over—

“Aye. I understand you do not wish Lady Rosamunde to attend the stables.”

Aric stiffened at Lord Spencer's words, the memory that had been filling his mind—not to mention his brais—dissipating quickly as the man went on.

“But it has occurred to me that perhaps she could still be of some service to your stablemaster. Smithy? Is that not his name?”

Rosamunde gave a start at that, her gaze turning questioningly to Aric for verification that he had replaced the old stablemaster with his own man. He had not bothered to mention it to her.

“Aye, that is his name,” Aric allowed carefully, trying to ignore the happiness that filled his chest when Rosamunde suddenly beamed at him as if he had done a grand thing.

“Aye. I thought so. But my memory is not as good as it used to be.” Lord Spencer straightened slightly to add, “He mentioned in the stables after you left us yesterday that Lady Burkhart appeared quite knowledgeable about animals during the journey here. She apparently helped him to identify one or two problems he might otherwise have missed. He said that he might appreciate her advice and—”

“I have already made it clear that I do not wish my wife anywhere near the stables,” Aric began.

Lord Spencer immediately nodded, but continued. “Oh, aye. And I would not suggest otherwise. However, I
thought mayhap Smithy might be allowed to seek her council—here at the keep, I mean—should he come across something he feels she may be able to help with.”

Rosamunde held her breath in the silence that followed the man's wonderful words, afraid to look at her husband lest she somehow make him decide against allowing such a thing. It was a long silence—long enough that Rosamunde's lungs began to ache from lack of oxygen before she heard her husband say, “Aye. I do not suppose that would hurt.”

Releasing her breath in a noisy gust, Rosamunde leaped to her feet with excitement. “Oh! What a marvelous idea, my lord! Thank you.” She squeezed Lord Spencer's hand in gratitude, then whirled and launched herself at her husband where he sat. “And thank you, my lord, for allowing it. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said between pressing tiny butterfly kisses all over his face as he caught her by the waist. “You are a
wonderful
husband.”

“Aye, well,” Aric murmured, smiling slightly even as he gently set her away. His gaze moved uncomfortably to Lord Spencer, who was smiling in their general direction. “I shall go out there right now and tell Smithy he may seek your council.”

“Oh, but you have not even broken your fast,” Rosamunde protested as he rose.

“Aye, I know, but…after the news Bishop Shrewsbury brought us yesterday, I quite forgot to mention to Smithy that we would be riding out to continue our tour again today. I must go have him prepare the wagon.”

“Oh.” Rosamunde sighed.

Smiling slightly, Aric tipped up her face and kissed her quickly on the lips. Her disappointment was obvious, and it warmed his heart that she would apparently miss him. Her exuberance over his agreeing to allow Smithy to ask her council, on the other hand, made him feel slightly guilty. It took so little to please her. She did not ask for furs
or jewels; simply being allowed to have some involvement with the animals sent her into ecstasy. He should have thought of this possibility on his own, he berated himself, then glanced toward Lord Spencer as the other man rose from his seat.

“I shall accompany you, my lord,” he murmured, then turned a smile in Rosamunde's general direction. “Have a good day, my lady.”

“Thank you,” Rosamunde said at once, then watched as the men made their way slowly toward the keep doors. Once the door closed behind them, her gaze slid down to the bits of bread littering the table before her. Quickly scooping them up, she wondered distractedly how soon it would be before Smithy visited her for her assistance. While she didn't wish illness on any of the horses, she did look forward to being involved in tending to them again, if only in this minor way. Her thoughts were interrupted by a solemn “Good morn.”

Glancing toward the stairs, she saw Bishop Shrewsbury descend the last of them and start toward her.

She greeted him with a smile as she dropped the bread crumbs into her husband's empty mug. “Good morn, my lord Bishop.”

“It looks as if I am a late riser this morning. Everyone has eaten and gone, I take it?”

“Nay. I mean, aye.” Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “You are not a late riser, my lord Bishop. Lord Spencer and my husband came down only a moment ago, but they both decided to forgo breaking their fast and head right back out to complete their rounds of the estate.”

“Ah. I see. What a shame. I was hoping to have a word with him. Your husband, that is.” His gaze slid toward the door briefly, as if he were contemplating whether he might catch up. Then he apparently decided against it and seated himself at the table before glancing at where she still stood. “You were not leaving, too, were you?”

Rosamunde hesitated, then smiled. While she wasn't
really hungry, what else did she have to do until Smithy should need her? Taking her seat again, she shook her head. “Nay. I shall keep you company.”

“Good, good.” Murmuring a thank-you to the servant who set a mug of mead and hunks of cheese and bread before him, he smiled at Rosamunde. “I am glad you can keep me company, for I have a question or two you might be able to answer.”

Rosamunde's eyebrows rose slightly. “What kind of questions, my lord?”

“Well, I could not help but notice that there did not appear to be a priest present at the table last night. And, obviously there was no morning mass today.”

Rosamunde shifted uncomfortably under his censorious gaze, guilt rising within her like a wraith that wrapped itself around her throat and choked her. After a lifetime spent in a convent where they had held matins, lauds, prime, and tierce throughout the day, Rosamunde had hardly missed the masses since leaving the convent. Of course, they had traveled without benefit of a priest to accompany them here, but once they had arrived, the morning masses had not been reinstated. In fact, the first night of their arrival, Lord Spencer had mentioned that the priest who had served this castle and its people since Lord Spencer's early childhood had recently passed on. He had yet to be replaced.

Rosamunde's guilt was because she had not been at all upset by that news. Truthfully, she had been happy to leave her husband to tend to the problem in his own good time. Of course, that was a terrible sin. She should have been distressed and insisted that he see to the matter at once. She had been raised properly, after all.

“Aye, well, I fear the priest who served here passed on just days before our arrival,” she now admitted uncomfortably. “I believe my husband has taken steps to remedy the situation.”

“Really? Well, mayhap I could be of some assistance in that area myself in the meantime.”

Rosamunde blinked at him in surprise. “Assistance, my lord Bishop?”

“Certainly. I could take up that office while I rest here a while. At least until a new priest is found and settles in. Yes. That is a most satisfactory resolution.” He smiled at her a bit wryly. “That way, I shall not feel so much as if I am dependent upon your charity. I shall earn my keep, so to speak.”