Conquering Passion (26 page)

This time Ram and Mabelle took their sons with them. Ram felt it was important they visit the castle at Saint Germain. They were the sons of a Norman
Comte,
and it was imperative they know their ancestral home. Despite the unseasonably fine weather, it took them a sennight to reach the coast, but the crossing was calm, and even Ram managed not to become seasick. Robert and Baudoin enjoyed the voyage and were excited to be going to Normandie.

As their cavalcade rode into the bailey of the home where he’d been born, Ram was hard pressed to hold back his emotion. This edifice held many memories and so much history. “How can I impart that to our children?” he shared with Mabelle. “I hope this will be the first of many visits for them. One day Robert will be the
Comte
here. Perhaps in time the Welsh problem will be solved, our King will no longer need my services in England, and we’ll return to Normandie for good.”

“
Oui
, Ram, I would like that too. While you’re now wealthy and powerful, it has been costly.”

Ram looked at her wistfully. “The way we Normans constantly insist on alienating people with our brutality, the less likely it seems there will ever be peace.”

He took his children to show them the fields and orchards around the castle. Fernand Bonhomme, looking old and stooped, found a malleable horse so he could ride with Baudoin on his lap, Robert sitting behind him, holding on to his Papa, squealing with delight. Everyone was happy to see their liege lord returned, and commented on the handsomeness of his children. It was the first time they’d ever spent time as a family, with no external pressures on them.

“This is a place of intense memories for me,” Mabelle confided to her husband. “I recall the dark handsome knight, conjured from the lake, who became my husband, a man who has brought me the most exquisite pleasures.” The smile left her face. “But there are more difficult memories of my father and yours. I grieved alone for him here. And you can tell Bonhomme has never recovered fully from Vangeline’s death.”

He noticed she made no mention of the wedding day incident, so he decided not to either.

“
Oui
, his son, Honoré, does most of the work now.”

They took the boys to the crypt, explaining the tombs and their grandparents. It was evident the shivering lads were uncomfortable, as they stared up at the long shadows cast by the flickering candles on the vaulted ceiling.

Mabelle picked bluebells with the children while Ram watched, and they exchanged smiles at the memory. The blue flowers held no interest for the boys, who preferred to run through the fields, laughing and shouting. They took them swimming in their special lake, and Ram knew his eyes betrayed his need as they looked at each other close by the place he’d first found her. The bittersweet memory washed over him like a rushing river. Trying to break the tension, Ram remarked casually to his sons, “
Maman
once threw Papa’s sword into this lake.”

“Why
Maman
?” Robert asked curiously. “You must have been very angry with him.”

“Oh,
oui
,
mon fils
, I was angry.” she replied, grinning at her smiling husband.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t stay angry at him,
Maman
,” Robert said innocently.

Their contentment at being back in the land of their birth carried over into their bed chamber, and they made sweet love every night, as their bodies joined with flow and grace. Ram loved fondling and caressing Mabelle’s breasts, and now, after the birth of two children, they were fuller and more sensitive and he suckled them, knowing she would be enthralled in her need for him. He loved the way her responsive bud swelled under the tender touch of his fingers, and never tired of feeling the inner texture of her. He loved to hear her call out his name in the throes of passion and wondered if she did indeed love him. She’d never told him she did.

“Would you like to go for a picnic in the meadow?” he asked innocently one day. “You could pick bluebells. Fernand can look to the children for a while.”

Mabelle eyed him curiously, and he struggled to keep his feigned composure.

“It
is
a beautiful day,” she agreed. “And I do love bluebells. I’ll get
La Cuisinière
to prepare a hamper.”

She scurried off to the kitchens, leaving him to wonder if she’d guessed his plan, to get her to the enchanted pool. He wanted to try to erase any bitter memories they both may be harbouring. Why did he care? Did he need her to love him? Were the physical pleasures not enough?

When she came into the Great Hall, carrying the picnic basket and a blanket, he was pleased she’d changed into a simple chemise and belted sage green overdress. She was barefoot.

“Will you be taking your sword to the meadow,
milord
Comte
?”

He laughed. “I think not, saucy wench.” He took the hamper and blanket, and they strolled out of the castle together, their bodyguards following at a discreet distance. He ordered the men-at-arms to stop outside the walls. They would keep watch from where he stationed them, and felt it was safe enough.

When they reached the meadow, he spread the blanket on the ground, and lay on his side, his head resting on one hand. He felt comfortable in his linen shirt and loose fitting knee breeches, especially once he took off his boots.

His gaze followed Mabelle while she picked the blue flowers, humming as she gathered them to her breast.

She was doing this the morning I found her.

He watched her, and recognized he cared too much for this woman. He suspected Mabelle would never forgive him completely for his accusations and suspicions, though he intended to try to erase that memory today. But could he let go of his pride, his need to control? He came lazily to his feet, wandered over and took hold of her hand as she bent to pick another flower. The grass felt good beneath his bare feet.

“Would you like to take a swim,
milady
?” he drawled seductively.

Her grasp on the bluebells tightened, but as he kissed her, the flowers fell to the ground. “Gather them up and bring them to the lake.”

He led her to the water’s edge, out of sight of their bodyguards, took the flowers, then undressed her, brushing his hands against her breasts as he lifted the clothing from her body. He smiled at her naked beauty, disrobing quickly. As he led her into the shallow water, she reached out tentatively and grasped his erection in her long fingers. Even the cold water couldn’t dampen his arousal as she slowly moved her hand on his phallus.

“I’m not a good swimmer, Ram,” she teased. “I need to hold on to something.”

He took her hand from his throbbing manhood and lifted her. “You have other talents and skills which are far more important. I fear I may release too soon if you continue that,” he teased.

She entwined her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him. He walked over to the shallows, where a smooth moss covered rock met the water’s edge. The friction of her wet female cleft against his shaft sent ripples of sensation up his spine. Leaning her back against the rock, he feathered kisses on her throat, neck and nipples.

She groaned with pleasure and swirled her tongue around the rim of his ear. “The moss feels like velvet against my back,” she crooned.

“Mabelle,” he rasped. “I have to come now.”

He thrust inside and her sheath clenched him tightly in response. Her legs gripped his torso, trying to draw him deeper as he pressed her body against the rock. She clung to him, keening her pleasure and her breasts rubbed against his chest.

In his passionate haze, he caught a glimpse of speckled trout flashing by in the knee-deep water. He curled his toes into the mud. She raked his scalp with her long fingers, and cried out ‘
Ram!’
as his seed erupted into her and a powerful spasm tore through her body.

She lowered her head to his shoulder and her hair enfolded them like a golden cloak. Staying inside her as long as he could, he carefully made his way to the deeper water, eased on to his back and floated for a while, with her on top of him, moving them effortlessly through the water with one arm, both of them completely relaxed.

“You’re as light as a feather,” he murmured into her ear.

She’s purring.

He guided them back to the shallows and carried her to the grass, where he laid her down and spread out her hair. With great care, he took the bluebells and laid them reverently on her body. He posed her legs as he remembered them from that bittersweet day, as awestruck by the sight as he’d been then.

“On the day of our intended wedding,” he managed to say hoarsely, “I thought you were a vision. Your beauty struck me senseless, and you’re more breathtaking today. What happened that day embittered us both, but if you’ll allow me to continue to pleasure you today,
milady
, we can perhaps atone for our mistakes? I hope whatever you were dreaming of that day will come true for you.”

“It has already come true, Ram. I was dreaming of being kissed by you, my handsome husband.”

Antoine was right. I’m an idiot.

***

The day they were to leave, she awoke shortly after dawn, dressed and went down to break her fast. Ram had risen before her, and she couldn’t find him anywhere. She decided to make a last private visit to the crypt, and a strangled cry escaped her as she entered the shadowy chamber. Ram knelt before the tombs of his parents, and a tiny posy of bluebells lay atop each. She sank to her knees beside him and took his hand, and they clung together.

“Swear to me, Mabelle, that if I die in England, you’ll return here with my body, so that I may be laid to rest with my parents. It’s in Normandie I belong.”

“I so swear,” she whispered, stricken by the notion of life without him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

It was because of Ram’s well tried and proven methods of governance that the towns and villages around Ellesmere grew and prospered. September brought with it the affirmation of another child firmly planted in Mabelle’s belly. Both she and Ram were thankful the abortifacient seemed to have done no permanent damage. It had been a year since she’d been poisoned. The resilience of her body surprised her, considering the difficult life she’d led before she met Ram.

The long summer had been particularly hot, relieved only by gentle rainfall in the early evenings. She often felt uncomfortable and was nauseous every morning. But the weather produced a bumper harvest and there was much celebrating at the Autumn Fayres held in the towns and villages. No one would starve this winter.

Rhonwen continued to show great promise as a healer, but they heard tell of another renowned healer in the village of Whittington, which hadn’t yet held its Fayre. Mabelle received Ram’s permission to take Rhonwen with her to the Whittington Fayre so they could seek out the healer. The young woman was gleeful at the prospect.

“Perhaps we’ll convince her to return with us to Ellesmere, my lady?” she enthused.

“Perhaps we will. But if not, we’ll try, over the course of the few days we remain there, to learn as much from her as we can about the things we don’t yet understand.”

As planning for the excursion progressed, it occurred to Mabelle how wonderful it would be for her sons to accompany them to Whittington. “They enjoyed the fayre at Ellesmere,” she argued, when Ram was less than enthusiastic. “They have few chances to be little boys. Please let me take them. Giselle can accompany us and keep them busy while we’re with the healer.”

Ram relented, insisting they be protected by a company of ten men-at-arms as their escort, but he was uneasy he couldn’t go with his family. He wasn’t interested in what they would be discussing with the healer but might enjoy the fayre with his wife and children. “We have too few opportunities to be together and enjoy life, as we did during our visit to Normandie.”

“Don’t be concerned, Ram,” she laughed. “Your men will take good care of us. We’ll be surrounded by people at the fayre and it will be perfectly safe. The Welsh won’t encroach as close as Whittington. In any case, the beginning of October is too late in the season for them to leave their mountains.”

Ram put his hands on her waist and leaned his forehead against hers. “You’re right, but I still don’t like the idea of my pregnant wife and my children leaving without me.”

***

As soon as Mabelle met Caryl Penarth she thought the woman embodied the meaning of her name, which Rhonwen explained was the Welsh for
love
. Caryl would share her knowledge of the healing arts with the two women and agreed to consider coming to Ellesmere, at least for a few months, to instruct the local women, as well as Rhonwen.

When they weren’t with Caryl, they enjoyed the minstrels, theatre, jugglers, magicians, and human chess games. They laughed at the bright costumes of folk dressed as such varied characters as King Arthur, mermaids, and the fayre’s king and queen. Mabelle hadn’t seen her sons laugh as much since Normandie. They tended to be serious little boys.

Everyone enjoyed the fruits of the bountiful harvest, and the ale and wine flowed freely. The women and children were never without their armed escort, and Mabelle enjoyed herself immensely. After three days they mounted their horses for the slow ride back to Ellesmere. Caryl promised to come to the castle in a sennight.