The Winter Mantle (22 page)

'I have seen what ambition does to men… and what you do to me is far more important.'

Judith licked her lips, nervously. Waltheof moved closer, angled his head and kissed her. She was passive, struck by fear and uncertainty. His mouth tasted of wine and sweetness. He pulled gently away and looked at her.

'Drink,' he said, returning the cup to her keeping.

She shook her head. 'I have had enough.'

'Trust me, you have not,' he said.

'You mean it will be easier for me if I am insensible?' Her tone took on a waspish note.

Waltheof laughed, and bouncing from the bed, went to refill the cup. 'No, of course not. You would be missing a deal of pleasure, and you would suffer so thunderous a headache in the morning that you would wonder why you had not chosen to be aware.'

Judith slanted him a look from her eye corners. 'My mother says that coupling is a duty,' she said uncertainly.

Waltheof returned to the bed, took a single swallow from the brimming cup, then presented it to her. 'Your mother sees everything in the world as a duty,' he said wryly. 'Coupling is a pleasure.'

'But is it not a sin to enjoy it?' Judith said doubtfully and drank. Although she was not aware of the fact, the sweet, strong wine was already working its magic and loosening her tongue.

'Some priests say that it is,' Waltheof admitted, 'but I think that God gave us the means for pleasure as well as pain. I am no scholar, and I leave it for those who are to debate. Perhaps it is better to be continent, but without procreation there would be no children…"

'But it is not the reason that men go to brothels — to procreate children.' Judith's tone was acerbic.

Again Waltheof laughed. 'No,' he agreed, 'it is not. And that is why we go to confession.'

She frowned at him. The wine was beginning to spread through her limbs, bringing lassitude and a feeling of wellbeing. 'But if you confess and then sin again…'

Waltheof took the cup from her hands and set it to one side. 'I have no intention of ever sinning again in my life,' he said. 'Well, at least not in matters of the flesh. If we are to speak of duty, then let us speak of your duty to keep me on the straight path.'

'You are mocking me.'

'No, teasing you. There is a difference.' Raising the sheets, he got into bed beside her. 'Your hands are cold,' he said. 'Lie down.'

Somewhat cautiously Judith complied. Waltheof drew the crisp linen sheet, the striped blanket and beaver fur coverlet over their bodies. Taking her hands in his and raising his shirt, he laid her palms against the heat of his breast. She felt the dry warmth of his flesh, the thump of his heart. Strange, unsettling sensations coursed through her, an immodest desire to press herself against him.

He seemed to sense it, for he gathered her close. 'That's it,' he said softly. 'Just for warmth…"

She knew it wasn't true. How could it be when the bloody sheet of her taken virginity was expected to be displayed to the entire court on the morrow as proof thai any child bom nine months from this date would be of Waltheof's begetting? However the lie was soothing and she relaxed against him. He rested his head on one hand and used the other to caress her spine in gentle, rhythmic strokes.

To Judith the sensation was entirely new and blissful. A purr caught in her throat and she had to compress her lips to stifle the sound. Waltheof's hand continued its magic, now gentle and slow, now sweeping and firm. Imperceptibly he moved lower until his fingertips were swirling the small of her back. Judith let out a soft gasp and pushed her hips forward. Waltheof continued caressing her, murmuring gently, reassuring. His hand left her hips, trailed up her ribcage and feathered over her breast. It was the lightest of touches, but rather like a leaf falling into a pool the small ripples spread from the contact and drew a response from all of her body. Her loins were meltingly sensitive. His palm found and lingered upon her nipple, slowly rubbing through the linen chemise; she had to catch back another mew of pleasure. When he replaced his hand with his lips and the flick of his tongue, Judith arched and gasped.

Waltheof pulled on the bow lacing the top of her chemise until it unravelled. And then she felt his touch on her naked skin. His breathing had changed, no longer quiet and even, but ragged and swift. Now he kissed her throat, her jawline, and reclaimed her lips. This time Judith was less passive. She moved her mouth beneath his, and shivered when he explored her lips with his tongue. Her arms encircled his neck and she pressed against him. Thus far he had kept his lower body away from hers, but now he set his arm across her waist, drew her in close and began to rock his hips against hers.

She felt the heat and strength of his body, the firm length of his erect phallus through the cloth of his shirt. Imagining it within her body had been impossible before, something to shy away from, but she was drugged with wine and pleasure now. As he pushed against her he held her steady and tentatively she began to push back, enjoying the pressure. He continued to kiss her and his hand stole beneath her chemise, drawing the linen upwards, baring her legs, her thighs. And the fondling continued, stroking, lulling, leading her onwards.

From the sensitive soft skin of her inner thighs, he moved higher. At first Judith tensed, but he murmured reassurances and love words and stroked so softly that she gasped and parted her thighs. He knew exactly where to touch and she began to writhe and whimper.

Waltheof sat up and removed his shirt. In the dim light from the night candle his hair was the colour of flame and the scattering of hair on his chest sparkled like gold wire. His muscles gleamed with health; his belly was as flat as the planking on a new shield. The bedclothes concealed him from the waist down, and Judith did not know whether to be glad or disappointed.

'Your chemise,' he said hoarsely, 'take it off.'

'I…'

'It will bunch between us and be uncomfortable.' He drew her up and tugged the garment off over her head. She watched him cast it to one side, careful even in the intensity of the moment not to send it in the direction of the night candle.

The cold night air struck her flesh and raised small goose chills. He combed his hands through her unbound black hair and watched the tresses slide against his skin. He smoothed her satin shoulders, cupped the heavy weight of her breasts in his palm, and groaned softly.

Pulling her down, he began the slow, stroking process again, until Judith was hot and breathless. The wine and the slow seduction had done their work. Now she gasped openly and made small sounds at each new assault on her senses.

He parted her thighs and began to rub with slow insistence. Judith clenched her fists. She would have bitten her lip too, but he was kissing her, thrusting kisses of his tongue now, moving in time with motion of his hips. A tight sensation was growing and building in Judith's loins, each stroke of his finger bringing her closer. She raised herself against him, wanting to cry out for him to stop so that she could catch her breath, wanting him to go on. Nearer and nearer. lie was groaning and she could feel the vibration of his voice through their joined mouths. The sound added to the maelstrom of sensations and excited her further. She was on the brink of discovering something so overwhelming it would shatter her.

He took his hand away and she made a sound of frustration. He cupped her buttocks. Once, twice, she felt the hot jab of flesh, and then he steadied, and thrust into her. Judith cried out at the intrusion. There was a jagged flash of pain, but there was pleasure too. He withdrew a little way and pushed forward again, holding himself still at the deepest point of the surge and pressing his hips flat against hers, then he withdrew, and pushed and held again. His head came up. Judith watched his muscles flex and relax as he held himself over her. His mouth opened. He began to groan with each thrust. Judith let out small whimpers in counterpoint. Each time he pushed into her, she would feel a flash of pain and then a stab of swollen pleasure. And as he moved faster, the two became joined until she did not know where one began and the other ended. She began to thrash and gasp. Part of her was terrified and wanted to escape before she was destroyed, and part of her wanted to leap joyously into that destruction.

'Please…' she entreated, not knowing whether she was asking him to stop or go forward. 'Please…" Her body was rigid with tension as she held back from the edge.

Without breaking rhythm he reached down between them and stroked. It was the final stimulus to send her crashing into the first climax of her life. She arched against him, her fingers like claws, her teeth clenched, and in the wildness of the moment she threw back her head and screamed. The sound brought an answering roar from Waltheof and he thrust into her so hard that she screamed again. And then his weight came down on top of her and where their bodies were joined she could feel pulsations like a heartbeat, throbbing strongly, then flickering and ebbing away.

Silence fell except for the sobbing gasps of their breath. Judith began to struggle up from the deep well of pleasure into which she had been cast. She became aware of Waltheof's weight pinning her to the bed. Her thighs were stretched, causing a cramping discomfort, and there was a raw burning in the softness between them.

Slowly Waltheof eased from her body. She clenched at the pain, and wondered how in the world she had just accepted that impossible length with screams of delight. Was this the nature of lust against which the priests counselled?

Waltheof drew her against him and stroked the tangled hair away from her face. 'I love you,' he murmured. 'If it hurt, I am sorry. In time it will grow better.'

In time
? Judith swallowed. 'I will lose myself,' she said in a shaken voice.

'That is no bad thing for a while,' Waltheof said. 'I want to see you smile. I want to see beyond the face you show to the world. When you cried out in my arms just now…' His own voice shook with tenderness.

Judith hid herself against his chest. She had been unable to help herself, and now she was chagrined.

'Come now,' Waltheof said softly. 'We should rightly sing praise for what gives us delight.' Tilting up her face he kissed her. Judith responded, but with reserve now. She needed time to assimilate and recover. Against her thigh she could feel his erection, although it seemed to be softer than a moment since. Sybille had told her tales of men - and women - who would indulge their lechery from nightfall until dawn. She hoped that Waltheof was not one of them. It would be more than she could bear.

'Truly — did I give you pleasure?'

She heard the need for reassurance in his tone and bit her lip. 'Yes,' she whispered, 'you gave me pleasure. I had not imagined that it would be like that. Now I understand why the priests are so often ignored when they exhort people to celibacy.'

Waltheof snorted. 'More than half the village priests in England have wives and children,' he said. 'It is only of late that the Church has taken a different stance. I can see that fornication is a distraction to the spiritual life of monks and nuns, but a common priest should live with his parishioners as they live with him.' He yawned. 'I am glad that you found as much joy in your duty as I found in mine.'

A few moments later he was heavily asleep. Judith eased out of his arms and surreptitiously pushed down the covers. Her inner thighs were stained with blood and there were streaks and smears on the sheets too - proof of her virginity. She pulled the sheets back up and turned on her side away from Waltheof, keeping her distance.

In the morning, he made love to her again, once more coaxing a shattering response that left her dazzled, disorientated and sore. He told her he loved her, that she was his life, and gave her a gift of a gold and garnet brooch and jewelled fillets to thread on the ends of her long dark braids.

The bloodied sheet was displayed in the hall before the entire court as proof of Judith's virginity and the successful wedding night. Adelaide wore an expression compounded of pride for her daughter's bravery and mild distaste at the evidence of what Judith had been made to suffer.

Sybille, ever practical, quietly handed Judith a small pot of soothing salve. 'Until you grow accustomed,' she whispered. Having spent the night rolled in the cloak of Toki, Waltheof's shieldbearer, her own complexion was rosy from the burn of his beard and the satisfaction of being well loved.

Judith took the salve and wondered if she ever would grow accustomed. The sensations roused in her by Waltheof were as disturbing as they were glorious. 'I wish I was like you,' she said almost bitterly to the maid. 'I wish I was like my husband.' Her glanced flickered to Waltheof, who was devouring bread and honey with gusto while he engaged in buoyant conversation with Richard de Rules and her stepfather.

'No use wishing to be like other folks,' the maid said shrewdly. 'You have to learn to live at peace within your own skin.' She squeezed Judith's arm, a gleam of sympathy in her eyes. 'Lord Waltheof's a good man. Just trust in him and you'll be all right.'

Judith said nothing. Trust was the last thing she would yield to anyone.