Hot Knights

by Rue Allyn

  “That is wonderful.”

  “Hmpf.”

  “Praise heaven.”

  “The process to straighten the foot and restore the bones to their proper places is short but painful. It can be done today. I would not recommend that, however. The lady is weak, and the pain of the procedure would no doubt cause her to faint. Regardless of when I perform the procedure, once the ankle has been mended, she should not rest weight on the limb for at least two weeks.”

  “Then you must mend the limb as soon as the marriage vows have been said,” Basti ordered.

  “’Tis probably best to have the pain over with soonest,” Robert agreed.

  His agreement with Basti even on this minor issue dismayed Juliana. Surely Robert must have his reasons. She would ask him, but now was not the time.

  “How,” queried the bishop, “does this allow Baron Ravensmere to have a healthy bride and still depart for England quickly?”

  “I do not know how quickly the lady will be able to travel, but the injury to her foot does not prevent coitus. She could endure that now, perhaps even conceive. If the baron is concerned for his heirs, I suggest I be allowed to straighten the foot first.”

  Endure was an excellent word for it from all that Juliana had heard. The only woman of her acquaintance who professed to find any joy in lying with a man was Berthild. Juliana seriously doubted the reliability of the raw tales her old friend told.

  Basti cleared his throat. “Excellent. There is no need for delay.”

  The screen was removed, and Robert moved to hold her hand.

  With Basti and the doctor as witnesses, the bishop recited the bare bones of a marriage service. Robert answered with a firm “I will” when asked if he would take this woman. Juliana refused to respond, staring off into space, trying to distance herself from sorrow where there should have been joy. Basti performed the part of proxy. Then they were married. The documents were brought Basti signed in her name, Robert followed, his left hand still in her right.

  “Would Juliana be able to travel at all tomorrow?” asked Robert. He fixed his gaze on her.

  She pulled her hand from his and turned her head. Her stomach churned and her foot throbbed. She could not look at him. Her anger at what he’d taken from her was only surpassed by her fear at the risks he took.

  “By ship, perhaps, or very easy stages over land. She absolutely should not put her foot in a stirrup. Such exercise would cause too much strain on the injury and may easily dislodge the bones again.”

  “So be it,” Robert’s voice was flat.

  “Perform your procedure, physician. We will consummate the marriage tonight. However, I insist that Lady Juliana and I be left alone until after the evening meal.”

  “As you will, baron.” The doctor signaled for the screen to be returned to its original place.

  Numb with disappointment, Juliana continued to listen.

  “’Tis but noontide, now,” protested Basti.

  “My wife is not like to run away in her condition. I have preparations to make. You may wait until tonight, Fra Basti, or you may remove your requirements for witnesses to the consummation, and we will leave Rome all the sooner.”

  “Tonight then.” Raw fury tinged Basti’s concession.

  Juliana heard the shuffle and stomp of feet heading in the direction of the door. Did they intend to simply leave her here?

  “Wait, Sir Robert.”

  What did Basti want now?

  “Who will guard your bride while you make these preparations?”

  Guard me or guard me not. I do not care. ’Tis not as if I can run away. She searched her heart for the serenity that kept her from descending into depression and resentment. But peace had fled beyond her grasp to leave nothing but emptiness festering like a wound on her soul.

  “I will send servants to attend her.”

  Servants? When had Robert acquired servants?

  “Excellent,” murmured the bishop. “Since we are all now in agreement, let us be about more important matters.”

  The door creaked open, and the footsteps trailed out. A thud indicated the door closing, leaving Juliana alone with the doctor and hopelessness.

  “Milady. I apologize for the pain I must cause you. With luck you will faint.”

  “I understand and forgive you. Please begin,” she said woodenly.

  Juliana woke alone behind the screen. The doctor had been correct. She had indeed fainted from the intense pain of the doctor pulling on her foot. Still, her injured limb did feel somewhat better. Where was everyone?

  “Robert?” Juliana queried of the air. No one replied. No one came. Obviously he had left with the rest of them. What was he up to with his preparations? Did it matter?

  Were she healthy, she would have believed that he arranged time for her to escape, but despite Basti’s worries, she was chained by her injuries as surely as if she wore manacles.

  Nothing good would come of this marriage. Robert would suffer Edward’s wrath, and she would suffer seeing Robert’s unhappiness every day until she died. Her only consolation would be that once Anna learned of Juliana’s failure, the Beguine would find another, better messenger to carry copies of the letter that would end Basti’s reign and restore women to their rightful place in the church. However, the risks and time involved were worrisome and added to her sorrow over the forced marriage with Robert. She felt tears on her cheeks but could not muster enough concern to wipe them away. Eventually, between the pain and the tears, she fell into an exhausted slumber.

  Chapter 14

  Juliana felt herself lifted from the cot and cradled against Robert’s chest. “You’ve been crying.”

  “What matter a few tears?” she said weary with pain and heartache.

  “They matter a great deal to me when the tears are yours.”

  His expression held tenderness and sympathy. She wanted neither. How could she hate him if he treated her kindly?

  An army of servants had followed Robert into the room. They carried a table, chairs, trays of food, many, many bottles of wine, and bed linens.

  She frowned at Robert. Were these his preparations? How could creature comforts make the indignity and hurt of her deflowering any easier?

  Given the conditions of her release, she knew this bedding could not be avoided. In those moments when she could stop thinking about Robert’s big body invading her much smaller one, she had tried to picture her life after they left Rome. She could not.

  He walked toward the table. His chest was warm and his arms comforting, but she resisted both, refusing to relax. He set her down on a chair with her back to the bed and went to order the servants.

  She craned to watch him and failed. “What is all of this?” She gestured toward the table.

  He came to stand beside her. “The means for comfort and celebration on our wedding night.”

  “Hmpf. As I understand it, for a woman, there is no comfort to be had in the process.”

  “I hope to convince you otherwise, milady. But first we will sup.”

  “Why not get it over with?”

  “Because I do not wish to get it over with, as you say. There is much pleasure to be had behind the bed curtains, if one goes about it right.”

  “You will note, sir, that we have no bed curtains.”

  “And you will note that the servants have remedied that problem.” He stepped aside.

  Juliana shifted her position and stared. The bed now stood dressed in fine linens. A mound of silken pillows littered the headboard. Sheer, pale yellow gauze hung on rings from the crossbars that linked the tall bedposts. He had created an exotic haven for her bedding. His thoughtfulness went far beyond her expectation. So why did she feel such bitterness?

  “Do you imagine those flimsy curtains will provide any amount of privacy?”

  “You cannot have forgotten that we shall have witnesses to the consummation. Privacy will not be ours this night.”

  “I have not forgotten.” Her stomach cramped a
t the thought.

  “’Tis not unusual, Juliana.”

  “’Tis most unusual for me, since I never planned or wished to marry.”

  “It cannot be avoided now that you are wed.”

  “Aye, thanks to you.” She could not keep the acid from her voice. Try though she might she could not smile, and she could not find serenity in the face of the disaster that had overtaken her.

  A knock sounded at the door. Robert opened the portal, and Basti entered, followed by the other witnesses and two guards.

  “What overindulgence is this?” The priest looked almost gleeful at the signs of excess in the room.

  Robert frowned.

  “’Tis naught but comfort for my lady’s bedding. What do you here? You agreed to wait until after the evening meal.”

  “There is no need for bed curtains. Take them down,” Basti ordered the guards.

  “Touch those curtains and you die,” Robert growled. He rose, taking his dagger from his belt.

  The guards’ hands lowered to their swords.

  “You break your vow of peace already?” Basti smirked.

  Robert kept his gaze fixed on the guards. “I vowed not to kill in battle. I do not have to kill these men to let them know that should they touch those curtains, they will never be able to hold a sword again.”

  Both guards dropped their hands to their sides.

  Turning to Basti, Robert continued. “Those curtains will hide little. So perhaps I need to remind you of the reasons you will allow these gauzy barriers. Reasons, recently brought to your attention concerning the pope.”

  What could Robert possibly mean by that oblique reference? Had Basti been forced to cooperate by some threat from the papacy?

  Basti’s expression spoke of murder, but he dropped the issue of the curtains. “A simple repast of porridge would suffice. I am not pleased by your delaying tactics.”

  “And I am not pleased that you ignore our agreement.” Robert turned his back on the man. “Come, wife. The table is ready. Let us put aside our differences long enough to share a meal. Tell me what you would like, and I will provide it.”

  Juliana eyed the food-laden table. “What I would like is for all these people to go away. I must have witnesses for tonight’s humiliation. Nothing was said about witnesses to my eating.”

  “As you wish, wife.” Robert spoke to the servants then strode to where Basti stood opposite the bed. “I will have to insist that you honor our bargain.”

  “No.” Basti’s stern refusal did not surprise Juliana.

  “I think you will,” Robert said icily.

  “Then you are wrong.”

  “If not for the sake of the pope, then do so to retain your prisoners. Leave us to our meal in peace, else you will find every prisoner in your foul cages released while your drunken guards sleep.” Robert smiled.

  “What?”

  “I have heard rumors that you sent wine to your guards in celebration of tonight’s events.”

  “I did no such thing.” Basti peered suspiciously at the many bottles of wine stacked near the table.

  “Perhaps not.” Robert studied his fingernails. “But would you like to take the risk that someone did not do it in your name?”

  “You will regret this, Ravensmere.” Basti rose to leave.

  “Do not forget to take the key with you,” Robert offered. “I would not want you to miss the consummation because you were locked out of the room.”

  Juliana’s jaw dropped. She gripped the arms of her chair until she felt her nails sink into the wood. Robert had neatly gotten rid of their major and most detested witness, then with one stroke invited the man back. What sort of game was her bridegroom playing?

  He stood and watched all of the people in the room leave, until only he and Juliana remained. “Now, Milady, what may I serve you from this bountiful repast?” He gestured toward the groaning board.

  She ignored his question. “Are you a fool? What possessed you to remind that creature to take the key with him?”

  Robert walked to the table and began loading a plate. “Basti feeds on pain and fear. We are giving him neither, at the moment. I want him well sated before we leave Rome tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Juliana’s hand went to her throat. “I had not thought it would be so soon. Did you find passage to England on a ship?”

  “Nay, and that is why I needed to get all of those people out of this room. Thank you for assisting me with your request, unintended though that assistance was. You and I have much to plan and too short a time before the witnesses return.” He sat on a footstool opposite her, balancing a plate on his knees, and held out a morsel for her to sample.

  Juliana accepted the food and chewed but did not taste. Her mind whirled. He could not mean he found a way to dissolve their joke of a marriage. So what kind of plans did he speak of? She did not care how they traveled and refused to hope that he’d decided not to return her to England. She swallowed, and the food settled like rock in her belly. She refused to hope at all, for look where hope had gotten her.

  • • •

  “You truly do intend to get me drunk.” Juliana giggled and watched Robert steady her hand before pouring wine into the goblet she held.

  “Aye, wife. Am I doing a good job?”

  “I cannot say. I have never been drunk before.”

  “Then this is a night of many firsts.”

  He had been doing that all evening. Gently reminding her how necessary this was. Throughout his explanation of the deception they would work to draw Basti south while they went north, Robert had made both blunt and oblique reference to the night’s bedding. She recalled being terribly upset earlier over the consummation, indeed the entire marriage. Why did it not seem so troublesome now?

  “Robert,” she paused, swirling the wine in her cup, “is this really necessary?”

  “Which?” He halted with a slice of apple halfway to his mouth. “Getting you drunk? Consummating our marriage? Or deceiving Basti?”

  “I know the consummation cannot be avoided, though I wish it were otherwise. To give Basti back a bit of his own pleases me greatly. I think I am asking about the drunkenness.” She sipped her wine.

  “I have already explained that ’twill help you to forget any unpleasantness you might feel. Your body has suffered much the past few days. It will suffer more tonight. Best to numb as many aches as possible before we start.”

  “Earlier you claimed that much pleasure could be found behind the bed curtains. Do you now tell me you spoke false?” She drained her cup.

  “Nay, Juliana. Pleasure beyond imagining is possible between a man and woman who care for each other. But even the best of lovers cannot always ease the difficulty of a virgin, especially one who has spent close on a week with Basti. The wine will help.” He refilled her goblet.

  She drank deeply. “I would not want to have my cries of pain provide Basti with pleasure.”

  The metal cup was becoming heavy. She moved to set it down on a low table by her chair. She missed. Robert caught her before she could topple from the chair, but the cup tilted, spilling wine across his jerkin. He placed the cup aside, removed the vest, and drew her onto his lap.

  “On the contrary, sweet.” He nuzzled her cheek. “I would ask you to scream as loud as you can, if you wish to scream. Basti will not be satisfied with less. Indeed if you are too quiet, he might think he has done you a favor. He would hate that so much even marriage could not shelter you from his wrath.” Robert trailed small kisses from her cheek to her ear, where he lingered to suckle on her lobe.

  Sensation rippled from her head to her toes and back. “Oh my,” she breathed, suddenly very hot. “That feels very good.”

  “Aye,” he crooned and kissed along her neck to her nape. He scraped his teeth over that sensitive node and let his tongue soothe the abrasions.

  With each gentle bite, Juliana felt a tug within her breasts and lower. She squirmed and arched.

  He lifted his head, his
green eyes alight, his lips turned up. “Is something wrong?”

  “Robert, I do love this samite gown that you have gifted me.” His fingers traced her skin along the scooped neckline. Delightful shivers spread through her. “When I put it on I thought it the smoothest, most finely wrought cloth I had ever seen.”

  “And this is a problem?”

  “No, but somehow this gown has become too tight. And it scratches my skin, as if I wore rough linen.”

  His eyes darkened, and his mouth formed a straight line. “I want your comfort over all things this night. Why do you not remove the gown, if it pains you?”

  Juliana felt a flush creep over her cheeks. “I would not want you to think I do not like your gift.”

  Robert stared at her, then threw back his head and laughed.

  An urgent longing to lick and kiss the strong column of his throat possessed her. Before she could act, he straightened and stroked a finger across her cheek. “I suspect that liking my gift or not is not your true concern.”

  “Nay, it is not.” She toyed with the laces of her bodice, unable to look him in the face. “’Twould not be seemly for me to sit with you in only my shift.”

  He grasped her chin and compelled her to gaze at him. “We are husband and wife, Juliana. This night ’tis seemly for you to lie naked with me in bed. Sitting in a shift is a small matter.”

  He spoke only of this one night. Did he still hope to have the marriage put aside? How could that be possible? Her thoughts were too clouded with wine. She would ask him on the morrow. For now, she placed her hands on his shoulders. Heat seeped into her fingers from his body. She wanted to clutch, taste, and savor. Mindful of the issue at hand, she pushed away from him. “My aunt always wore a night robe. My uncle insisted. He said women were ugly and should cover the signs of their sinful nature.”

  Robert’s hands trembled. Wary of her bruises, he grasped her arms gently and eased her back against his chest. He tunneled one hand into her hair, loosening the pins and snood that held it in place. He turned her to look at him once more. “I am not your uncle, Juliana. I find you the most beautiful of women, and I am truly humbled by your goodness. ’Twill please me greatly if you allow me to gaze on your unadorned beauty.”