Fire Song

by Catherine Coulter

  Kassia gave him a sad little smile. “It appears that my lord could have wed any lady he wished. ’Tis his misfortune that he came upon my father in Aquitaine, and that I didn’t die.”

  “Lord Graelam saw much misery in the Holy Land,” Guy said pensively, “disease, starvation, butchery that seemed to know no end, but never did it really touch him. Yet I tell you truthfully that after he came from your chamber, believing that you were dying, his face was drawn in anguish. You touched him as no other ever has—man or woman. Even now he treats you gently, carefully, and my lord is not a particularly gentle man. When you fell ill from the food, he was distraught. He told me that it was not fair that you should regain your health, only to come to Wolffeton and lose it again.” Guy paused a moment, watching Kassia’s brow furrow deeply in thought at his words. “Lord Graelam is also a man of strong appetites,” he continued carefully after a moment. “Yet he is more concerned with your well-being than his own needs.”

  “But I am well now,” Kassia exclaimed, then turned scarlet at her loose tongue.

  Guy grinned merrily at her and raised his goblet in a silent toast. “Your noble husband approaches, my lady.”

  Kassia raised her face to her husband. She looked like such a naughty child that Graelam laughed.

  “I have been telling her of your . . . prowess, my lord,” Guy said blandly.

  Kassia choked at his double meaning, and Graelam arched a thick black brow. His eyes fell to Kassia’s trencher and he frowned. “What have you eaten?”

  Kassia, who had consumed chicken, fish, and fruit, merely shook her head at him. “I have been a glutton, my lord. May I serve you now?”

  He nodded and sat himself beside her. “The boy, Evian,” he said to Guy, “we must begin to toughen him up.”

  Kassia looked down the trestle table at Evian, who was leaning sleepily against Drake’s massive shoulder.

  “The lad seems willing,” Guy said, “though his mother would like to turn him into a lapdog.”

  Graelam merely grunted, and talk turned to de Fortenberry and his ever-nearing raids. It seemed to Kassia that Graelam was looking forward to crossing swords with the man; indeed, he hoped that de Fortenberry would attack some of Wolffeton’s outlying demesne farms. She watched her husband, and saw that he was not eating as much as he needed. ’Twas the wretched cooking, she knew. She must see to her responsibilities as chatelaine soon. If only Graelam would cease treating her like an invalid! He still looked to Blanche, and Kassia found that she did not like that at all. She had noted during the day that the servants heeded Blanche’s orders, but slowly and sullenly. Her housewifely hackles rose. They would obey her, and promptly, or she would know the reason why.

  She leaned over to pick up an apple from the plate in front of Graelam. Her breast accidentally brushed against his arm. She felt him stiffen and he paused perceptibly in his speech. She hung her head, embarrassed, and was unaware that he gazed at her speculatively for a long moment.

  Graelam was surprised at the surge of desire he felt, thinking again that Kassia had scarcely enough womanly curves for his taste. Yet, thinking of her lying soft and yielding in his arms, her trusting eyes upon him, made him anxious, as he had never been before. Tonight, he thought, tonight, he would take her. He must take her.

  “Your hand, Kassia,” he said, laying his own palm-up on the table beside her.

  She tentatively laid her hand in his and watched as his fingers closed around hers. A frown crossed his brow and she held herself very still, not knowing what he was thinking.

  She is so slight, he mused, curling his fingers around her slender wrist. He had promised her there was no pain in coupling, and hoped he was right—that his size wouldn’t hurt her. He must go easily with her. He felt a renewed tightening in his loins at the thought of her naked beneath him. He said abruptly, releasing her hand, “Go to our bedchamber now, and ready yourself for me.”

  Kassia knew that her cheeks were flushed. She remembered quite clearly the odd sensations she had felt before she had fallen ill, and she knew that Graelam wanted to make her his wife this night. She walked from the hall, imagining that all the men knew exactly what was in her mind and in her husband’s.

  Etta awaited her in her bedchamber.

  “Ah, my baby,” the older woman scolded her fondly, “ ’tis tired you are. You should have stayed abed as your husband wished you to.”

  “Nay,” Kassia said on a nervous laugh, “I am not tired, but I would like a bath.”

  Etta shooed Nan and another girl, Erna, pointed-chinned and scraggle-toothed, from the chamber after they had filled the wooden tub, then scented the hot water liberally with lavender, Kassia’s favorite scent.

  As Kassia disrobed, her eyes kept flying toward the chamber door. She did not luxuriate in her bath as was her wont, but scrubbed herself quickly. She turned to ask Etta for her towel and became mute at the sight of her husband standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, gazing at her.

  “Is the water still warm?” Graelam asked.

  She nodded, sinking down in the wooden tub until only her head showed above.

  “Will you scrub my back?”

  He had moved out of her range, and Kassia eased up a bit to see him again. “Aye,” she said, “I will.” He was tugging at the ties on his tunic. As he pulled it over his head, she scurried out of the tub and grabbed at the linen towel.

  “Kassia, help me.”

  The tie on his chaussures was knotted. She wrapped the towel securely around her and dropped to her feet before him, her nimble fingers on the knot. She could feel the heat from his body; had she the courage, she could touch the growing bulge in his groin. She stilled suddenly at the touch of his fingers in her hair.

  “Soft as a babe’s,” he said quietly. The knot untied, Kassia lowered her arms, resting her cheek against his thigh.

  “Come,” he said, and lifted her to her feet. He drew off his chaussures and strode naked to the tub. Kassia giggled at the sight of him, his knees thrust upward, as he settled himself into the tub.

  “I amuse you, wench?”

  “You are so large, my lord!” She smiled contentedly as she soaped a sponge and began to stroke it down his back. She soaped his thick hair, careful to keep the lather from his eyes. “I used to shave my father,” she said as she rinsed his hair.

  “Did you now?” he said, swiping the water from his eyes. His eyes crinkled as he looked up at her. She had time only to gasp in surprise. He jerked the towel from her, grabbed her about her waist, and swung her into the tub onto his lap.

  Kassia fell forward, her arms looping about his neck to steady herself. “Oh,” she said helplessly, her mouth but a breath away from his.

  “Aye,” he agreed softly, and pressed his hand against the back of her head, bringing her to him. He lightly pressed his mouth against hers, undemanding, exploring her soft contours. He dropped his hands down her back, drawing her closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest.

  “A small wife is not such a bad thing,” he said, gently nibbling on her earlobe. He lifted her carefully so her hips were resting on his belly. “Give me your mouth, Kassia.”

  “I . . . I don’t know what to do,” she said, feeling like a stupid fool.

  “I will teach you,” he said. “Part your lips.”

  She did as he bid her and drew back startled at the touch of his tongue against hers. “That feels . . . strange,” she whispered, her hand stroking through his wet hair without instruction from him.

  “Strange good or strange bad?” he teased her.

  “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Can you do it again, my lord?”

  “A willing pupil,” he murmured against her parted lips. He wrapped his arms around her back and pressed her tightly against him, deepening the pressure with his lips. He eased instantly when he felt her stiffen, and was rewarded soon with a quiver that ran the length of her slender body. Slowly, he thought to himself, go very slowly. He felt g
ooseflesh rise on her arms and laughed. “How the devil do I get you out of this thing?”

  He lifted her above him, only to have her slip in a welter of arms and legs. She landed flat against him, her belly against his swollen manhood. Her eyes flew to his face and she knew a moment of fear when his hands pressed against her buttocks, molding her against his hard flesh, and he moaned roughly deep in his throat.

  “The water grows cold,” she said in a thin, high voice.

  Graelam closed his eyes tightly for a moment, getting a hold on himself. The last place he wanted to take his virgin bride was in a tub of cool water. And she was frightened, he heard it in her voice. He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose and thrust her away from him. Kassia grabbed the towel and quickly twisted it around her. But she didn’t avert her eyes when he stood in the tub, magnificent in his nakedness.

  “I wish that I looked as beautiful as you,” she said wistfully.

  He stared at her a moment. No woman had ever before told him he was beautiful. He said lightly as he stepped from the tub, “A scarred, hairy warrior?”

  “Aye,” she said, “and endowed with great power and strength.” She handed him a towel. “My father told me once that the more valiant the knight, the more gentle he was in his physical strength. I think he must have been thinking of you, my lord.”

  “Your father did not know me, Kassia,” he said sharply. It made him uncomfortable to be cast in a chivalrous hero’s mold. “I am as I am. Do not grant me virtues I own not.”

  “No, my lord,” she said docilely, but he saw the impish dimple deepening beside her mouth.

  He drew on his bedrobe and strode to the chamber door, yelling for the servants to empty the tub.

  “Get into bed,” he called over his shoulder to Kassia. “I do not want you to take cold.”

  Because she was nervous, it seemed but a moment of time before they were alone, the door firmly closed, her husband walking toward the bed.

  “I play chess quite well,” she blurted out.

  He merely grunted, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease her wariness of him. “How does your belly feel?” he asked, drawing off his bedrobe and sitting down beside her.

  Kassia’s tongue darted over her lower lip, an unconscious, very sensuous gesture. He gently laid his hand on her belly and probed lightly. “I am truly all right,” she said.

  “You are so small,” he said on a frown, his eyes on his splayed hand. He could touch her pelvic bones with the tips of his stretched fingers.

  To Kassia’s surprise, she felt a bolt of heat sear through her stomach and her eyes flew to his face. “Oh,” she gasped.

  He lifted his hand and she knew a moment of disappointment. He saw it in her eyes, and was pleased. She was innocent of a woman’s pleasure, but not cold-natured.

  He stretched out above her and gently stroked his fingers along the column of her throat.

  “Should I not douse the candle?”

  He shook his head, leaning down to kiss the pulse in her throat. “Nay, I wish to see all of you, wife, even to the soft white flesh between your thighs.” She quivered at his words, and he continued in a soft, tantalizing voice, “I want you to watch me looking at you. I will know your body better than you will know yourself. You have such softness and beauty for me.” He cupped his hand slightly over her woman’s mound and rested it there.

  “Open your mouth for me, Kassia.”

  He touched her even teeth with his tongue, gliding slowly, then gently plundered the depths of her warm mouth. He clasped her in his arms and pulled her onto her side against the length of him.

  “Be at your ease, dearling, I will not hurt you.”

  She believed him and melted against him, slipping her arm around his ribs to stroke over his smooth back.

  “I . . . I want to feel you against me,” she said when he released her mouth for a moment.

  He quickly loosed the sash of her bedrobe and flung it open. He pushed the robe from her shoulders, pausing a moment to gaze down at her breasts. “You are so delicate,” he said, more to himself than to her. “So soft, like the Genoese velvet I bought in Acre.” Slowly, his eyes on her breast, he stroked his fingertips over her smooth flesh, drawing closer and closer to her silken nipple. He felt her tremble slightly and leaned his head down to take the smooth tip into his mouth. He felt her nipple tauten in his mouth, and gently drew on it, savoring the texture as he suckled. He cupped his hand around her breast and pushed it upward to better possess her. He felt her arch her back and slipped one arm beneath her. He sought out her mouth again. To his delight, he felt her hand glide down over his hip, gently kneading his muscles, exploring his body as he was hers. As her searching fingers neared his groin, he felt himself stiffen in a nearly painful need.

  “Touch me, Kassia,” he groaned softly.

  Unerringly she touched her fingers to his throbbing manhood, and he heard her sharp intake of breath as she tried to take him in her hand. “Don’t be afraid, sweetheart,” he whispered between nipping kisses on her throat. “You will be soft and wet and ready for me. Let me show you.”

  She grew utterly still as his hand roved over her ribs to her belly. He kneaded the soft flesh a moment, then laid his hand over the curling hair of her woman’s mound. “You are holding now a man’s desire,” he teased her softly. “I am an obvious being with no hidden treasures. Unlike you.” Gently he probed until he found her yielding flesh. “Here is your woman’s place of pleasure. A small treasure, of infinite beauty and enchantment.” He heard her gasp in surprise and captured her mouth as his fingers continued to caress her rhythmically. “Does that please you?” he asked into her mouth.

  Kassia could think of no words. Her hips were pressing up against his beguiling fingers and the only sound from her throat was a ragged groan.

  “I feel so odd,” she gasped. She tightened her hold on his member, making him grimace. He prized her fingers loose, aware of her disappointment that his fingers had left her. “I would look at you now, sweeting.”

  He reared up, parting her thighs. “Open your eyes and look at me, Kassia. There is no shame between husband and wife.”

  He touched his fingertip to her and watched her hips twist. He slowly parted her, and was startled at the provocative sensuousness of her. She was all delicate soft pink, her woman’s flesh lush and moist with her growing desire. Slowly he lowered his head and touched his lips to her. Kassia nearly leapt off the bed, a cry of utter surprise tearing from her mouth. “Oh no!” she cried. “My lord, you must not—please!” She pressed her hands impotently against his shoulders.

  “Hush, Kassia, do not interfere with a man’s pleasure.”

  “But you should not . . . surely!”

  He laughed, his warm breath making her tingle. He continued to nuzzle her, explore her, learn what pleased her, but she would not ease, her embarrassment too great. He sighed, knowing he should not expect her to fall like a ripe plum into his mouth. He left her and lay beside her, drawing her into his arms. He began to kiss her deeply, even as his fingers caressed her, and he felt her slowly ease, tentatively returning his kisses.

  “Kassia. Look at me.”

  She clutched at his hand that rested on her belly.

  “Feel how soft and ready you are for me.” She felt his finger slip inside her. She gasped at his assault, and tried to pull away from him.

  “Nay, little one.” She was very small, stretching to hold his finger. He pushed deeper inside her until he felt her maidenhead. He probed gently against it, but it held fast. He cursed silently. She was stiff and afraid, and there was nothing he could do about it, save get it over with. Slowly he drew up, parted her thighs, and guided himself into her.

  Kassia’s eyes flew to his face. She tried to hold herself still, but she felt a pressure building inside her, felt herself stretching painfully. She gasped and tried to twist away from the pain. Graelam held himself still within her and brought his weight down over her. “Kassia,” he said softly, g
ently kissing her. “Hold still.”

  She blinked. “It hurts,” she whispered.

  He could not help himself, and moved deeper, pressing against her maidenhead. He felt her stiff and tense beneath him, and gritted his teeth against the overwhelming urge to drive forward and plunge into the sweet depths of her. He held perfectly still, hoping she would become accustomed to the feel of him. He pressed harder against her maidenhead, but the barrier was as taut and strong as an Amazon’s shield. “Sweeting, I must cause you but a moment of pain. Hold onto me, Kassia.” He looked down at her as he spoke and saw that her eyes were firmly closed, her face drawn in pain. What stopped him cold was the tears slowly trickling down her cheeks.

  He could not explain his action to himself, for never before had he forgone his own need. He pulled out of her, feeling her flinch as he withdrew, and clasped her tightly against him.

  She clasped her hands around his back and sobbed softly against his shoulder. He stroked her, calming her, until she eased.

  “ ’Twas not so bad,” she whispered, pulling away from him slightly to see his face. “I am sorry I am such a coward. You did not hurt me greatly, truly, my lord.”

  He wanted to laugh and to curse vilely at the same time. Instead, he kissed her until she was breathless. At least, he thought, he had stretched her somewhat.

  When she lay snuggled against his side, her breathing even in sleep, he stared into the darkness, cursing himself for seven kinds of a fool. He should have gotten it over with. A woman’s tears had never before touched him with such devastating result. A wife’s maidenhead was a man’s pride, yet he would have gladly forgone that small barrier to save her pain. That realization made him frown. She was, after all, but a woman, his possession, a creature whose only purpose was to give him pleasure and provide him with sons, and see to the management of his keep. But rant as he would at himself for his display of weakness, he could not dismiss the pain he had caused her. Ignorant little wench, he thought. She did not even realize she was yet a virgin!

  13

  She seems so proud of herself, Graelam thought, both amused and puzzled, as he watched Kassia chew on a piece of warm bread the next morning. With sudden insight he realized that she believed herself a woman now, a wife, and was pleased with her accomplishment. She was more confident, teasing his steward, Blount, as if she had known him all her life. And the old fool was grinning back at her as if she were bestowing upon him the greatest gems of wisdom imaginable.