by Beleaguered
Quickly, she undressed him then set about tending the wound, bathing it and binding it with arnica to draw the bruising that had spread over half the hand. With that done, she stripped off her own clothing, blew out the candles, and lay back beside him, pulling his arm around her again. She sighed with relief, but the comfort lessened as she strove to push Geoffrey’s words from her mind.
“We may be safe here for a short time, Alyse, but this pestilence will find us, I have no doubt.”
If this was to be their fate, then she would face it head on with her husband at her side. Considering all he had sacrificed for her, ’twas right that her loyalty lie in the end with him and no other. No more heartache for a man she could not have. Nor betrayal of the good man she had married. She would cleave to Thomas alone.
’Til death do us part.
Alyse shivered, and pressed even closer to Thomas, who continued his exhausted sleep. She willed herself to think only of her husband, of their life together as it would be in Spain, of a child that would surely begin soon within her body. Slowly, calmness stole over her, until finally she lost herself in tranquil slumber.
Sometime later she swam up toward consciousness. Something tickled her neck. She moved her hand to shoo it away, but found nothing there. She was drifting back to sleep when the same tickling sensation erupted not on her neck, but on the nipple of her naked breast. The downward spiral toward sleep became an upward rout to wakefulness.
Warm, wild sensations spread from her breast into her core. She moaned softly in the back of her throat and heard her husband’s soft laugh as he left her breast and moved up to tempt her mouth.
Alyse locked her hands behind the nape of his neck then rolled them so she lay on top, seizing his lips with greedy abandon. After plying him kisses, she roamed leisurely down his neck, seeking out his most delectable places. She trailed her tongue over the hard muscles of his chest, through the light furry mat to caress a male nipple, teasing the already hard peak. Thomas’s breathing became ragged.
With mischief in mind, she drew a torturous path over his taut belly, kissing lightly and delighting when the flesh jumped at her touch. When she reached the area below his navel, she slipped her hand down to stroke the towering spire that stood aching for attention. A broad smile curled her lips until he grabbed her, and she squealed in surprise. In a second, she lay on her back, with just enough time to sense him over her before he entered her fully. The swift stroke wrested a gasp of pleasure from her lips as the hard, hot member sank deep.
Covering her mouth with his, he crushed her lips and thrust his tongue into her, as deeply as his shaft impaled her below. He thrust quickly then withdrew slowly, building the energy between them. He licked her breast, drew on it, sucking until the nipple hardened.
“Ah, hurry, Thomas,” she begged. The exquisite spiraling sensation that heralded blessed release sprang upon her almost immediately. She writhed beneath him, seeking to help them along.
He grunted, and his thrusts became quick, staccato beats. She met him stroke for stroke, their naked bellies slapping out the mounting rhythm.
“Ah, Thomas! Thomas!” Rapture surged within, washing through her like a wave that crested and ebbed, releasing all the pent-up tension of the last few days.
Thomas shuddered and groaned as his hot seed spilled inside her, furthering her sense of contentment. Afterward, they lay entwined together, arms and legs ensnared in loving embrace.
I could remain this way forever.
She nuzzled Thomas’s neck, sighing in drowsy satisfaction. He slid his bandaged hand across her to grasp her arm as he clasped her closer to him.
She smiled and snuggled deeper into his arms. “You should try to sleep again, my love. Geoffrey said you had not slept since he summoned you in Bordeaux.”
Thomas chuckled. “And how on earth am I supposed to sleep with you here in my arms when I have not seen you for nigh on two days? Be sensible, madam. I can sleep later.” He grazed her neck, sending a wonderful shiver down her side.
“But I am not going anywhere, my love. The princess gave me leave to attend you as long as necessary.”
He laughed. “Then she will not see you again in this lifetime, my sweet, for it will always be necessary for you to attend me.”
“Attend to your wounds or illness, she meant,” Alyse replied, also laughing. “I suspect even the princess knows she would lose me for good should she allow me to attend on your husbandly needs alone. But I suppose that a day or two, to make sure your hand is healing well, would signify ‘as long as necessary’ in this case. So I am yours to command today and tomorrow, my love.”
Thomas shook his head. “Not nearly long enough, my sweet, but I suppose it will have to suffice.”
Alyse nodded. “Aye. Not long enough to my thinking either, my lord. But enough time to take joy in each other, as Geoffrey bade us.”
“Geoffrey bade us?”
“Aye. When he summoned me last night from the princess’s chamber, he awaited me outside our door to tell me you were well except for lack of sleep and the hurt hand. I was so distraught, for I had not heard from you, and I took his summons to mean that you had…fallen ill.” Alyse took a deep breath. “He thinks we will be safe here for a while, but only for a while.”
He did not contradict her, and her heart missed a beat. If he thought Geoffrey was wrong, he would have said so without hesitation, to reassure her.
“So you think he is right?” She pressed him, needing him to confirm the worst. If they knew that, they could then find a way to face it together.
Thomas finally looked at her with stricken eyes. “Aye, my love. I believe as Geoffrey does, that this disease will breach this manor, as it has in so many other cities and castles and homes. We can hope we will be spared, but I do not think this will be so. God is scourging the world, and we cannot think the cup will pass us by.”
“But what can we do, Thomas?”
He ran his finger down her cheek. “Very little, my love. We are bound to stay with the princess and her household, and there is no other place we can take them. There is nowhere to run.”
Dear God. They might all die. The princess, Thomas, Geoffrey, herself…
“Oh, Thomas! My love, forgive me!” She had killed him. “But for marrying me, you would be safe at home in England. My love, you are in danger because of me.” Tears poured down her cheeks. Great sobs of desolation shook her.
“No, Alyse, no.” He bounded up in the bed and crushed her to him in a steely embrace. “My sweet, you play me false. I would be no place except beside you, despite any danger. Marrying you, loving you, has been one of the great joys of my life, and if I die tomorrow, I will die a happy man to have loved and been loved by you. Would you take my joy from me?”
She could not answer.
He forced her head up to look into his face. “I do love you, Alyse. Know that, if nothing else. Death comes to us all, and if the price for loving you is an early grave, I say the cost is cheap.”
“But what will I do without you, Thomas? How can I live if…if…” She could not say the words, could not even think them.
“Should I fall victim to this malady, you will pack some few clothes and belongings, and take a horse and ride out. Get as far into the countryside as you can. Stay away from the cities, for they say the illness spreads more quickly there. Is your father’s property near here?”
“Nay, Beaulieu is many days ride from here, some miles to the north of Paris.”
“Even so, you would do best to set out for home.”
“But, Thomas,” she protested, “how can I leave the princess? And how could I travel alone for so many days?”
“The second part is easy. Have you still my tunic you wore the night we went up on the deck of the Phillipa?”
She nodded.
“Wearing those clothes, you will have some protection, for people will simply see a slim youth journeying by himself, rather than a fetching young woman riding alone. It should s
erve.” He sighed. “As for Princess Joanna, should she remain well, mayhap you can arrange for a carriage for her to depart with you.” His gaze hardened. “Or you leave her behind.”
“But I could not—”
“You must, Alyse. You will obey me in this. Swear it.” He gripped her hands so hard the bones creaked.
“I swear.” Her tears continued to flow. Loyalty to her husband or to the princess? Such a horrible choice to make. “Oh, Thomas, I cannot bear the thought of this!”
He gathered her in his arms, holding her fast and stroking her hair. “Shhh, my love. Do not weep so. ’Twill be all right, my sweet. I promise, ’twill be all right.”
She quieted in his arms for a while then sat up and looked him in the face. “Will you do the same if I die? Will you go away and save yourself?”
His face drained of color, and he drew her close to him again. When finally he spoke, his words did not bring the assurance she desired. “Should that come to pass, my love, you need have no fear for me. I promise you I would shortly be safe from all that could harm me.” He paused then continued. “But we will now put aside these sad thoughts, for we have before us two whole days to…how did Geoffrey say it?”
“Take joy in each other.”
“Aye,” Thomas agreed with a gleam in his eye. “Take joy in each other. I think it an excellent idea. Come, Alyse. Give me joy.”
Despite sadness and overwhelming fear, she could not deny him. She reached for him to give him what happiness her body could provide and take solace from his in return.
Chapter 6
When the end of August drew near with no evidence of the plague appearing in Loremo, the entire court breathed a sigh of relief. The princess decreed a day of celebration followed by a day of fasting and prayer. And, to her surprise, Alyse found she had regained her place of honor with Princess Joanna. Life had taken another turn—for the better, in all aspects save one.
The morning after the joyous feast, she had risen before dawn, despite the long night of love she and Thomas had shared. As she stood braiding her hair, she stared absently at the sleeping form of her husband. Whenever they joined together in bed, he managed, as he had from the first time, to make her burn solely for him. In the quiet aftermath, however, no matter how hard she tried to stop it, he always slipped from beloved to lover. And, to her shame, thoughts of Geoffrey had begun to creep into her mind once more. She fought against them as never before, renewing her resolve to remain faithful to Thomas alone. How long this struggle would last she knew not. But the ache in her heart grew daily.
Thomas rolled over in bed, his eyes fluttering open. He gazed at her then a frown rent his face. “Why are you dressed so early, sweet? ’Tis barely light. I thought sure we had some hours left to ourselves?” He held out his hand to her, and she smiled as she moved to him.
“I am sorry, my love, but the princess bade us all come to her chapel early this morn for special prayers of thanksgiving that the pestilence has seen fit to pass us by. Were it otherwise, I would certainly still be in your bed.” Alyse kissed the hand that entwined hers. “There is nothing short of a royal command would keep me from you.” She leaned over to give him a loving kiss. “When do you meet Geoffrey?”
“He will come fetch me before breakfast so that we may see to some business in the village before the heat of the day sets in.” Thomas stretched and lay back on the pillows. “’Til then I shall lie abed, remembering the sweetness of our night past.”
“You are lazy today, my lord.”
“You have worn me out these last few nights, my lady.”
Alyse looked askance at him and moved back to stand before her husband, hands on hips. “A complaint, Lord Braeton?”
He grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. “A boast on your behalf, Lady Braeton.”
“Mayhap then tonight we should simply sleep the night away in sweet repose,” she said, with feigned innocence. “I would not have you fatigued and neglect your duties.”
Thomas chuckled and pulled her down to him. “Not while I have breath in my body, sweet Alyse.” He pressed another, more ardent kiss to her mouth.
Loath to leave when he heated her passion thus, Alyse sighed and broke the kiss, moving determinedly toward the door. At the moment, her duty lay with the princess, not her husband. “I will return to you as soon as possible, my love,” she said, blowing him another kiss ere she closed the door.
Determined to contemplate the task at hand and not her longing to return to Thomas, Alyse made her way to Princess Joanna’s private chapel. She opened the door, hoping the service had not yet begun. As she stepped inside, the complete silence of the place gave her pause. Had she mistaken the time the princess had appointed? There was certainly no one in evidence here, not even the priest who had come with them from England as the princess’s spiritual advisor. Frowning, Alyse left the chapel and walked swiftly toward Joanna’s apartments.
The door to the princess’s chamber was slightly ajar, an unusual sight, and Alyse could hear an odd sound, like a low whimpering, emerging from it. She pushed the door open with trepidation, entered, and stopped, transfixed by the tableau before her.
Princess Joanna sat in her accustomed seat in the middle of the room, her eyes wide and staring. Lady Anne stood to her right, wringing her hands, her face twisted in fear—the same look Alyse had seen the day they left Bordeaux. But most terrifying, Lady Mary sat at the princess’s feet, her head in Joanna’s lap, a low moan issuing from her open mouth.
Shocked by this unheard of breach of protocol, Alyse stood, confounded for some moments, before the import of the women’s grief sank in. She swept forward, demanding, “Highness, what has happened?”
No one moved. Alyse glanced from Anne’s staring eyes to Princess Joanna’s tearstained cheeks, her gaze finally coming to rest on Mary’s contorted face.
What is wrong with this goose now? She caterwauls as if—
An icy hand clutched her heart.
No. It cannot be so.
Her mind reeled. She bent and grabbed Mary’s arms, jerking her up off the floor. Peering directly into her face, she searched her eyes for the horrible truth she could not bear to hear.
“Geoffrey?” The only word she could summon from a throat suddenly gone dry as dust.
Mary continued to moan, her eyes huge and sightless.
Driven by fear, Alyse shook the girl until her head snapped forward and back. “Where is Geoffrey? Has he...has he...” Oh, God, she could scarce think the words, much less say them.
At last Mary seemed to understand, for she shook her head slowly.
Alyse slumped and released the breath she held.
Thank you, Lord. Oh, Blessed Virgin, thank you.
She dropped Mary back into the princess’s lap, where she continued to moan, now punctuated by tiny puling cries. Turning her gaze to the other women, she tried once more to pry information out of them. “For pity’s sake, what has happened?”
Lady Anne finally broke the spell of silence. With a sob, her words came rushing out. “It is Margaret... She...did not appear this morning at chapel and...Mary went to fetch her and...found her in her bed...staring up....” She broke down completely.
Dear Lord. Margaret dead? Shock at the news gave way to utter terror. Her breathing sped up until she panted like a dog. She clenched her jaw until it ached, and trembled so badly she might fly apart. The pestilence had at last found them, just as Geoffrey had predicted.
Geoffrey.
Alyse grabbed Mary’s shoulder. “Did you report Margaret’s death to Geoffrey?”
Mary turned miserable eyes toward her and formed her mouth into a silent, “No.”
“God’s death!” The woman was a fool. Precious time had been wasted. “At what hour did you find Margaret?”
Mary stared at Alyse out of vacant eyes.
With a groan of impatience, Alyse turned to Princess Joanna. “Do you know, Your Highness?”
“It was shortly before prime was to be s
ung. We were waiting for you and Margaret, and Lady Mary said she would go to Margaret first. She did not return, so I sent Anne in search of her. She found Mary in the doorway of Margaret’s room, staring at the body just like this. Anne managed to get her back here, and that is when you found us.”
Alyse turned to Mary again. “Where is Geoffrey?”
No answer.
She squeezed her hands into fists at her sides, fighting the urge to slap the weeping woman. ’Twould likely do no good at all and only alarm the princess more.
“Did you leave Geoffrey in your chamber this morning, Mary?” she asked slowly, as though speaking to a child.
The wide blue eyes stared into hers, uncomprehending, although finally she nodded.
Thank God.
“Highness, stay here with your ladies.” Alyse sped toward the door, even as she spoke to the princess. “I will tell Geoffrey what has happened, and he will know what precautions we can take. Pray God Margaret has died from some other affliction and we are fearful for no reason. I will come back as soon as possible.”
She ran from the chamber then flew along the corridor, up the staircase, and toward the corridor where the courtiers were lodged. Her feet skittered on the smooth stone flooring as she darted around a corner. A curse bubbled forth as she righted herself and kept running. ’Twould not do to break her neck now.
At last she stopped in front of Geoffrey’s door and knocked frantically.
No answer.
God’s death, could the man not hear? She beat even harder with her fist, bruising her hand though it made a booming sound within.
Still nothing.
Mayhap he had already left the chamber. She shook her stinging hand. Where might he go so early? A glance up and down the hallway showed no one else stirring. With a groan of frustration, she whirled about, ready to run to the Great Hall to continue her search. She had taken two steps when the door opened and a tousle-haired Geoffrey peered out.
