Danise knew she would have no other chance to
tell Michel about Hugo on that night. They would not be allowed to
be alone together again until after they were married. And on the
next night… she grew warm and trembled at the thought of Michel
making love to her again.
There was no real need for haste in telling
him about Hugo. She would do it later, after the wedding
celebrations were over, after they had enjoyed a night or two of
tender pleasure. It would be easier to tell him then.
The rain stopped during the night and the
morning sun dried the path and the plants in the garden so dampness
no longer threatened the shoes and the clothing, or the comfort, of
the wedding guests. But the air was still heavily loaded with
moisture that drew the scent from all the plants, so the fragrances
of lilies and roses and herbs added a delightful note to the
freshly clipped greenery and the neatly swept path. Sister Gertrude
had seen to these preparations shortly after sunrise, and had
inspected the garden twice since that time to be certain all was in
readiness.
Just before noon Michel and Guntram along
with Savarec’s secretary and chaplain all stepped to the bare
wooden table set at the far end of the garden. Upon the table the
secretary placed the parchment copies of the marriage contract and
then stood back, waiting.
Guntram, who was to act as Michel’s witness,
wore his best dark green woolen tunic and had his black beard and
hair newly cut. For this occasion Michel wore again the blue silk
tunic that Redmond had lent to him at Duren and then insisted he
keep.
There were only about twenty-five or thirty
guests. The commander of Koln, his wife, and son, along with a few
important officials had come across the Rhine on the ferry.
Savarec’s chief officers, three or four distant cousins with their
families, and Danise’s aunt on her mother’s side, made up the guest
list. The subject of their concentrated interest, Michel waited in
nervous expectation until the door at the far end of the garden
opened to admit Sister Gertrude and Clothilde, who moved forward to
take their places among the guests who stood awaiting the
bride.
Savarec came into the garden through the same
door, his portly figure clothed in a dark red tunic, his short
green cloak thrown back to reveal the gold chain and medallion that
marked his office of fort commander. Michel spared his future
father-in-law only the quickest of glances, for Danise appeared and
took her father’s arm and Michel could see nothing else but the
woman he loved.
She wore a new gown for the occasion, made of
thinly woven cream wool, decorated at neck and sleeve edges with
narrow bands of embroidery in Danise’s favorite bright green. Her
hair was loose, brushed until it shone, and rippled as she moved.
Her jewelry was simple, just a gold bracelet on each wrist. To
Michel she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She
never took her eyes away from his. She came toward him on Savarec’s
arm, her face glowing with happiness, her lips softly parted.
Michel would make other vows in a few
minutes, spoken before the witnesses gathered in the garden and
made legal by his signature on the parchment of their marriage
contract, but in the instant when Danise put her hand in his and
moved to stand beside him facing the priest and secretary, Michel
made the sincerest vow of all, silently swearing to his Maker and
to Danise that he would love her forever and protect her to the end
of his life.
They looked only at each other while the
contract was read. It was little different from their betrothal
contract, only the clause citing their agreement to wed within one
year being eliminated. When the secretary was done, Danise and
Michel knelt with clasped hands to receive the chaplain’s
blessing.
Michel was allowed to kiss her then, and he
did so lightly and quickly, still holding her hand, just bending
his face down to hers. He did not dare to embrace her. So strong
was the love he felt for her, so deep his gratitude that she had
consented to be his, that he knew if he put his arms around her
then, he would not be able to let her go until he had embarrassed
both of them as well as Savarec and all his guests with brazen
evidence of the passion and tenderness he was experiencing.
For Danise, from the instant when she entered
the garden Michel’s eyes were magical lodestars, drawing her to
him. The touch of his hand sent a surge of heat through the veins
of her arm and up to her heart. Every hope or dream she had ever
cherished was centered now in Michel. She understood the chaste
kiss he bestowed on her at the close of the ceremony. If he had put
his arms around her at that moment she knew she could not have
separated from him when the kiss was ended.
He had to release her hand so she could sign
the contract, but by then it did not matter. By then they were
bound together in heart and spirit and she knew they could never be
parted. Later, in private, they would become one body, but Danise
knew that however exquisite the delights of physical passion, the
love between herself and Michel transcended the constraints of his
time or her own, for had he not been sent to her so that they could
love and be together?
Danise moved serenely through all the
congratulations and the feast that lasted until late afternoon.
When the clouds closed in again and rain threatened once more, she
went with her father and Michel to the fortress gate to wave
farewell to those guests who wanted to return to Koln while it was
still dry. The rest of the guests remained congregated in the great
hall, eating and talking. They were joined by Savarec’s men who
came off duty and whom Savarec made welcome.
Eventually, Sister Gertrude and Clothilde
quietly took Danise out of the hall and escorted her to the bridal
chamber. Clothilde ordered a small tub of hot water prepared. The
two women undressed Danise and helped her to climb into the tub,
where she stood while Clothilde soaped and rinsed her. Then Sister
Gertrude wrapped her in a towel.
“I will pray for your happiness,” the nun
said.
“Pray for Michel’s happiness, too.” Danise
suddenly felt shy in front of Sister Gertrude, so she held the damp
linen towel close around her body.
“I will pray that you will not be proven
mistaken in him.” Sister Gertrude pursed her lips.
“I love him with so much of my heart that I
would die without him,” Danise cried, eager to make this dear
friend and substitute mother understand what she was feeling.
“Then you truly need my prayers, child.”
“Ah, don’t!” Tears stood in Danise’s eyes. “I
know you love me. Wish me well. Wish me happy. Be glad for me.”
“I am.” With one thin hand Sister Gertrude
touched Danise’s cheek. “Because I love you, I fear for you. I do
not want anything, or anyone, to hurt you. I tried to keep you
safe, but you would have none of my way of safety.
Now you will have to find your own way.”
Sister Gertrude headed for the chamber door. With one hand on the
latch she stopped, not looking back when she spoke again. “I do
wish you happy, Danise. And I wish you joy of him. ‘Tis a delight I
was never fortunate enough to know.”
“Poor soul,” Clothilde whispered after her.
“I do believe, for all her hard words about men, that she still
grieves for the young warrior she loved so long ago, who died
before Sister Gertrude could enjoy what you will know tonight. Now
hurry, Danise, put on your nightrobe before Michel comes.”
Danise should not have been nervous, yet she
was. The memory of making love with Michel on the night after he
had rescued her from Autichar was still vivid in her mind. But what
they did on this night, in this freshly whitewashed room, was a
sacred duty. Were it left undone, theirs would not be a true
marriage. She stood alone in the center of the bridal chamber, clad
only in the gown made by herself and Clothilde from linen so soft
and sheer that it appeared to veil each line of her body in wisps
of flowing smoke. When Michel came into the room she tried to still
the sudden quaking that revealed how little real courage she
possessed. The effort did not help. Her breasts lifted with her
sharp intake of breath, the rosy nipples straining against the soft
fabric. She knew Michel saw it. He was looking at her as if he
wanted to devour her. He said nothing, he just turned to bolt the
chamber door. Danise wet her lips and waited.
“You look like a sacrificial lamb,” he said.
“You shouldn’t be afraid of me. What will happen is not unknown to
you.” He smiled at her as if he, too, were remembering the charcoal
makers’ cottage.
“It is -” Danise gulped, trying to control
her cracking voice. “It is the occasion.”
“I know. I’ve felt it all day.” He touched
her cheek, then took his hand away. “I never realized before that
marriage is exactly what the Church says it is. A mystical
union.”
“Yes.” She could not look anywhere but into
his dazzling blue eyes.
“I am going to undress.” His hands worked at
the buckle of his belt. “Don’t look away from me, Danise. You
weren’t ashamed to look at me the last time. Don’t hide now. I want
us to experience everything together, from this day onward.”
“Shall I help you?” She gestured as if to
lift his tunic.
“Just stand there,” he said. “Just let me
look at you. This night is for you, Danise. Tonight I am going to
show you how much I love you.”
He removed his garments without haste, laying
them on the clothes chest, and then he came toward her, fine-boned,
well-made, his straight black hair newly trimmed, his face
clean-shaven. His remarkable eyes drew and held her. So strong was
the emotion shaking her that she put up her hands, laying them on
his chest to hold him off until she could absorb the reality of his
naked presence.
“No one will intrude on us,” she murmured,
half to herself. “What we do here is acceptable in earth and
heaven.”
“Not even Sister Gertrude would dare to stop
us.” His mouth lifted in a quick little smile, and then he was
entirely sober once more, as solemn as Danise. He put his hands on
her waist, pulling her forward. Her arms slid up around his
neck.
“Michel.” His name was a breath of sound,
scarcely uttered before his lips descended to hers. In this, the
first kiss they exchanged since the chaste touching of lips to lips
at the end of their marriage ceremony,.Danise found an end to all
nervousness. Michel’s mouth and his body pressing against hers were
familiar to her and beloved, yet strange, too, because they had
been separated for nearly a month. His tongue gently pushed her
lips apart so he could enter her mouth, and at the moment he did,
she felt him harden against her.
She quickly lost herself in the warmth and
growing passion of his embrace. With one arm around her waist and
the other beneath her hips he raised her onto her toes, and then
off her feet entirely, holding her along the length of his body
from shoulder to thigh, making her drunk with kisses beyond
counting, with love that soon would demand fulfillment. Danise
threw back her head, arching against him so he could kiss her
throat and shoulders. But almost immediately she grabbed at his
hair, pulling his head up to kiss his mouth once more. She hungered
for his mouth, for his lips on hers.
“Michel,” she gasped, “oh, my love, for all
the time when we have been apart, I have dreamed of this night, and
prayed for it to come.”
“No more than I have.” He shifted his hold on
her. She was not at all surprised a moment later to find herself
lying upon the lavender-scented sheets of their bed. Michel
stretched out beside her.
“Did you make this?” He was tugging at the
hem of her gown. “All that embroidery must have taken weeks to
finish.”
“Clothilde helped me. We did it for you, to
please you.”
“I will be careful not to tear it, since it
was a labor of love. But then, everything that happens in this room
tonight is a labor of love.” He was still trying to remove the
gown. Danise wriggled a little so he could pull the delicate linen
higher, until her thighs were revealed to him. She no longer felt
shy when he looked at her, or when he stroked a tender hand across
her soft skin.
“Sit up, Danise.” When she obeyed his
whispered order, he drew the nightrobe over her head and tossed it
aside. She lay back against the pillows, smiling slightly,
fascinated by her own reaction to his unabashed approval of her.
She knew he loved her, but she had not fully understood how much
her pale beauty could excite him. Indeed, in a land where manv
women were blondes. Danise had never considered herself unusual or
special. Now that she was the object of Michel’s rapturous
admiration, she discovered how easily her own desire could be
ignited by the knowledge that he wanted her. More than that, he was
eager to have her. She saw his manhood rising tall and proud and
felt a surge of power and delicious anticipation at the sight.
“I cannot believe how beautiful you are.”
Michel sounded almost awestruck. He continued in a low, emotional
voice, “I was beginning to wonder if the last time we were together
was only a figment of my imagination, but here you are, just as I
remember you, and so incredibly lovely that mortal men should be
forbidden to look at you, for if once a man looks, he will be fated
to gaze at you until he dies from feasting on too much beauty.” As
if to know her in some way other than by painful sight, he touched
her face with sensitive fingertips, then moved on to caress her
throat and shoulders and breasts in the same way, all the time
smiling in delight at her gasped exclamations of mounting pleasure.
His hands moved lower, over hip and thigh and knees, before he
returned to her throat to begin the delicate motions all over
again.