How to Marry Your Wife

by Stella Marie Alden

  Damn. She’d drive him mad before they made it half way to Scotland. She pranced about like a stiff horse and he had to laugh. “Are you all right?”

  “’Tis not funny at all.” She stomped and jumped and her golden locks bounced down her back.

  Holding back another snicker, he held out a hand. “Come walk with me. It’ll take the inn keeper’s wife a moment to prepare our meal and you can get your legs back.”

  Soft fingers fell into his palm and she gave him a smile that melted his heart more than the first sun after a long winter. “At least it’s not raining anymore.”

  “Aye. There is that.” He cleared his throat and searched for a topic that wouldn’t lead to an argument.

  They both spoke at once, “Merry—”

  “Thomas—”

  “You first.” He squeezed her hand and helped her avoid a puddle the size of a small pond.

  A mallard duck flew off, all the while quacking and scolding. She giggled at the display, grew serious, and stopped to face him. Her hazel eyes reflected the spring green of the new leaves as she held his gaze. “I did nay mean to disparage your honor when I asked for the mechanism letter. I merely wanted to read it.”

  With eyes wide, she held no guile and he moaned. Again, he had misunderstood her intent. Women were so poor at discourse, it was amazing that Adam and Eve ever procreated. “What if I speak it aloud and you can read it later?”

  “You remember?” Her gait, while faltering occasionally, was more solid now. He upped his pace, forcing more movement. It wouldn’t do well for her health to have the numbness linger.

  “Aye, I do or one of the hundreds like it. It goes like this.

  Your fair countenance floats beside me, wearing gossamer wings and my weary soul is soothed. I’m naught, without you. I long for sleep, for there is the only place I can find peace in your arms. My body aches for your touch, and I shiver in fear that you may not wait for me. Leave me not half a man, Merry. Stay firm in knowing I return to you, only you. Know that I do all this for you, so I can offer you what you deserve. Not a knight belonging to another, but a free soul, who will bind himself only to you. I’m far away, but you are close in my heart, under the strongest of locks in an iron box. In the same way, lock your belt of chastity and wait for me. I beg you. For without you, I’m nothing.

  She gasped.

  He cupped her cheeks in his palms and was undone in her hazel eyes. “I wrote to you every night and prayed that somehow I’d get word to you.”

  Tears dripped out of the corner of her eyes and down her rosy cheeks. “If I’d only known …”

  Clearing his throat, he turned away. “None of that. Those days are past. If we agree to put them behind us, we can find our future.” They’d wandered into a small copse of trees. Behind them, the river rushed, still swollen from the earlier downpour.

  He pulled her into his arms, cupped her lovely arse, and kissed the salty wetness from her face. “Say you will be my wife.”

  “But we are wed.”

  “No, no. Not only like that. I want my Merry back.” He cursed his wording when she frowned.

  “My once thin body has been a huge basket for your son. I have endured six years of snickering behind my back—of being on the verge of excommunication. I find it hard to be happy. Look at me. I’m not a girl anymore.”

  “I don’t want a child. I desire this woman standing in front of me—who stared into my eyes, like you just did, and craved my kisses. I want her to beg me to enter her, as I hope you will.” When words wouldn’t suffice, he brushed his lips over hers.

  She let out a tiny gasp of air, put her hands to his neck and kissed him back in a like manner. Again and again, their lips barely brushed, but their eyes locked. The centers of her light hazel eyes darkened and her brows creased. Then she closed her eyes and opened her mouth.

  His tongue thrust in, searching for hers. Playing, he teased and begged. Bed me. I’m bereft. The moan that escaped, he hadn’t heard in years. It came from within him. She responded by pulling him closer. He spread his cloak down upon the ground.

  Chapter 9

  That was the exact same expression he’d had the night they’d conceived Tom. His eyes were dark with a small crease in the brow above the nose. His lips inched toward hers in the same way. A corner of his mouth turned up with just a hint of a wrinkle that wasn’t there before. A day’s worth of stubble on his upper lip threatened to scratch, just as she remembered. His mouth lingered, waiting for her to meet it again.

  Wait.

  This wasn’t six years past, nor was she a fool. She forced one of the countless past bad days into her mind’s eye. She chose one where her belly was larger than a kettle, heavier than stone, and she lay upon her back in the dead of night. Exhausted, she’d wept and yet still it wasn’t enough. She’d considered ending her miserable existence, but God would be unforgiving and she’d be sent straight to hell along with the small life within her.

  “Merry? Where’d you go?” Thomas cupped a palm to her cheek and searched her face.

  She lowered her eyes and spoke coolly. “Someplace I’ll never forget. Let’s be gone from here. I’m hungry.

  Behind her back, he cursed, and followed her to the inn.

  How could she have let her guard down so? For a moment, she’d believed all things possible; that life held endless cheerfulness. Long ago, she’d sang as she baked pies with the girls and Dame March in Lady Ann’s kitchen, but never again.

  At the door to the inn, she paused and put a hand to his shoulder. “You must stop this. I can’t be what you want me to be. Too much time has passed. I can’t and won’t bear that kind of pain again.”

  He cocked his head. “You don’t want more children?”

  “Oh. God’s blood, you’re a dolt. You understand naught.”

  The noxious smell inside the tavern turned her stomach, she took two steps back, and her arse hit his solid form. “I’ll wait outside.”

  He gripped her upper arm and tugged her further into the room. “You’ll do nothing of the sort. I paid much coin just for you. The horses will rest, you will eat, and have a fine bath.”

  There was no other woman present in the inn, except for the youngster who waited on tables and an ancient in the corner with clear eyes that glistened.

  She tasted bile in her throat and swallowed hard. Oh, God, she needed fresh air. Now. “Could you at least inquire that they open the shutters and let in air?”

  “Some may object. The day still has a chill upon it and a firm breeze blows.”

  “But as a knight, you could insist. I beg you. The smell is—”

  She twisted out of his grasp, fell to her knees outside near the bushes, and her stomach heaved and heaved; a victor in the internal battle of woman over vomit. She moaned and lay down on her back, right there at the entrance, and refused to open her eyes. Thomas, no doubt, was straight overhead and would be frowning yet again at her weakness.

  A rough palm rested upon her forehead, he cursed, and his hand slipped under her arse. “Put your arms around my neck.”

  Odd, how they wanted not to obey, but she forced them to do as asked. “Put me down. I’m fine now. It was just the smell.”

  “You’ve got a heat in your body. You’ve caught a vapor. We’ll need to hold up here.”

  “I’m never ill. Never.” Memories reinforced her belief. “Okay, mayhap when I was pregnant.”

  He growled. “You better not be.”

  “Oh, shut it. I’ve known no man since you left years ago. Just put me down. I can walk. I tell you, it was just the smell. For God’s sake, don’t take me into that wretched tavern again. You forget. I’ve only lived with Lady Ann who believes in the cleanest of keeps. Never have I smelled the likes of that place. I won’t eat in there. I’d prefer to eat in the barn.”

  “You’re the most difficult of women.” He set her down on her feet, but kept one hand upon her back when she wobbled.

  “No, Thomas. I am a
woman. Something you seem to have no knowledge of whatsoever.” She moaned and sat down on the grass, and a hand went dead center into a plop of horse dung. “Argh!”

  “God’s holy nails, I should’ve married an infidel. At least they keep their mouths shut, don’t puke in front of taverns, and make dutiful with their husbands at night.”

  “Aye. I agree. That would’ve been for the best. And I’d be on my way to marry an Earl instead of being forced to Scotland.” She squinted and gave him her fiercest of go-to-the-devil looks.

  He glared back.

  Time stood still until she picked up her hand covered in dung, regarded her dress splattered in puke, and she snickered. Then she laughed, because that was all she had left. She’d never cry for him again.

  The tiniest of grins hinted at the corner of his mouth. “Are you daft?”

  “No. I’m perfectly sane. That’s the problem. A sane woman in this farce of a play. I’m going out to that barn. See to it that it’s cleared for me and find an iron tub. Have it filled with at least tepid water. Do you think, dearest husband, that you could manage that smallest boon for me?”

  “You’ll go upstairs like a fine lady and do as I asked.” He put his hands to his hips.

  “I will not step one foot in that pigsty, nor will I eat a morsel from its kitchen.”

  “Enough.” He approached, the world went upside down, and his shoulder dug into her stomach.

  She pounded his solid arse with her fists and bits of horse dung flew everywhere. “Put me down.”

  “Clamp your fingers over your nose and shut that mouth of yours. I’ll bring you directly to a room and send in the tavern’s daughter to see that it is properly aired.”

  “You shall n—”

  His hand swatted her behind. Not hard enough to feel pain, but enough to sting at the indecency of it all. “I warned you. My men are in that tavern and I’ll not have them believing I’ve been bested by my wife.”

  When they entered the building, she did as he asked while they ascended the narrow staircase. He opened the door where a pallet fit for twelve lay and set her upon her feet. “We sleep here.”

  “Us and how many others?” She opened the shutters wide and fanned in fresh air with her sleeves.

  “I gave away a king’s ransom to have it for ourselves tonight. A gift to you.” He scratched a palm over his rough face. “I’ve made a muck of it again, haven’t I?”

  She missed the happy man she’d known. Even the Thomas who’d arrived in the bathhouse three days prior was jollier. Knowing she was the cause of his turnabout made her chest constrict. “Today is clear evidence of what I’ve been trying to explain. We just don’t suit. You’re a man of the world. An explorer. I’m an old maid, who other than leaving my father’s keep as a child, has never traveled. How could either expect the other to blend? It’s beyond hope.”

  “So, that’s how you feel?” Thomas stood beside her at the open window and stared at her wringing hands.

  “Aye.”

  “And what of those kisses? They felt more than tolerant.” He chucked her chin and his eyes penetrated her soul.

  Damn the man. She stiffened as heat rushed to her cheeks and she lowered her gaze. “You caught me unawares. That doesn’t count.”

  He laughed and those endearing dimples appeared once again. “’Tis what counts most and I’ll prove it. It’ll be you begging kisses from me and I’ll even place wager upon it.”

  She turned her back to him, stared at the bed they would share later tonight, and shivered. “Ladies don’t bet. Besides, I’ve nothing to place down.”

  He slid behind her and his breath upon her ear caused a chill to run up and down her back. “Your freedom. Should you not kiss me from here to Hadrian’s Wall, I’ll allow you and my son to reside with Marcus and Ann.”

  “Forever?” She turned and his tempting lips all but met hers.

  His dark eyes locked and held her prisoner. “Aye, if that’s what you want. Of course, when Tom comes of age, he’ll start his tutelage, but I wouldn’t keep you from visiting.”

  “And what would you have from me?” She swallowed hard and her mouth went dry.

  Both his hands cupped her cheeks. “A loyal, loving wife for the rest of my days.”

  She simply had to refrain from kissing him and she’d never see him again? Wasn’t that what she wanted? Tom could grow up happy and healthy. It was an easy bet, yet her heart sank at the thought.

  Clearly pleased with himself, he let go and broke into song as a large wooden tub was brought into the room. Two of his men began to fill it.

  A wife and love is the hardest thing.

  She drives her husband to drink and sing.

  Fal-de-ra, a wager will see

  If her heart will rest with a man such as he.

  She clapped her hands over her mouth, so he couldn’t see her wide grin. She almost told him she would’ve been fine bathing in the river, but bit it back. A woman should be more gracious with her husband’s thoughtfulness and not a shrew.

  Sir Marcus showered his wife Ann with gifts and she always knew the right thing to say. They took such pleasure in each other; a rare thing. But alas, she and Thomas were destined to be apart. All she had to do was never kiss him and he’d be gone forever. Easy as pie.

  Jacob, who’d been helping Harold with kettles of hot water, indicated with a wave that Thomas should join him in the hall. His dark man’s face was lined with concern as he spoke quietly and occasionally glared in her direction. When finished, he bolted down the stairs and a squire, whose name she couldn’t recall, stood with sword drawn outside their room.

  Only then, did Thomas enter, bar the door, and address her raised eyebrows. “Inns are unsavory.”

  Dipping a finger into the tub, she sighed and smiled. Warm water. Having lived with a Roman bathhouse next door, she never realized what a luxury it was. Again, homesickness threatened to overwhelm her.

  Thomas approached, for once sensing her distress. “Here, let me help you. Raise your arms and we’ll rid you of that filthy cloth.”

  His hands slipped over one breast and lingered. Then he removed both her tunic and underdress. Her face heated as he stopped and stared.

  Clearing his throat, he pointed. “Remove those, too, and into the bath. I’ll help you scrub, then you can help me.”

  Even as dirty as she was, she didn’t think she’d be able to completely bare her skin to him. “Mayhap you should go first. The water will hardly be suitable once I’m done.”

  “Very well. Untie the leather stays at my shoulder.” He leaned over such that his mouth was almost to her breast wrappings.

  She did as told and jumped back as his mail clunked to the ground. Chuckling, he tossed the rings to the side of the room. He shrugged off his padded vest, under-tunic, and untied his metal leggings. To her horror, he dropped the wrapping covering the rest of him. His pintle swelled to an enormous length as he watched her watching him.

  She swallowed hard. “I … I …”

  “Is your tongue stuck, Merry? Should I find a blacksmith to loosen it?” The horrid man grinned at her discomfort. So that was his plan. Harrumph. She’d helped Ann often enough tending the sick. I know what men look like. He’s just so, so, immeasurable.

  It was quite a feat to move her eyes elsewhere. Dark curly hairs pointed as an arrow to that big reaching thing. His chest held rows of strength and above that, a mouth curved into a delicious smile with plump lips. He flicked a tongue and laughed as he stepped into the tub.

  A voice that had to be hers croaked like a frog. “Turn around so I can disrobe.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. I’ve never taken a woman who wasn’t begging. And even long ago, when you lay on your back with legs spread wide, I didn’t breach you.” He put two arms on the side of the barrel, leaned over, and locked her in his heated gaze.

  How could just a look from him cause her breasts to tighten and liquid to drip down her leg? If he only knew what r
eally happened that night. Would he still desire her? She prayed he’d never remember the truth. Besides, he was just trying to get her to kiss him. Absolutely not. With a smirk, she removed her breast bindings, untied her panties, and stood in front of him naked while his eyes grew wider.

  Growling, he jumped up and clamped a mouth over her breast while the barrel wall dug into her lower half. Holy Mary, mother of God, his touch set her on fire and she moaned. This wasn’t like the night under the stars long ago. This was raw and wonderful. He nibbled, took, and teased. Then his clever tongue worked up her neck. At her mouth, he stopped and she almost forgot and kissed him.

  Opening her eyes, she pushed him away. “You devil!”

  He winked, then handed her a brush from a table nearby with eyes dark. “Wash me if you won’t kiss me, but be forewarned, I’ll lay siege to you every moment of every day until you give in.”

  “You already lost. You kissed me.” Grabbing the soap with a triumphant grin, she rubbed the bar under the water until it began to lather and worked it over his wonderfully broad back.

  “Oh, no. That wasn’t the wager. I’m allowed to kiss you as oft times as I want. It’s only you who may not kiss back.” He turned, caught both her wrists in one hand, and pulled her mouth to his again.

  With slippery hands, she escaped with a quick twist. “Why, that’s hardly just.”

  He snickered and kissed her on the mouth again. “So you forfeit?”

  “No, I didn’t say that.” The rough brush reddened his skin as she attacked.

  He took her weapon. “Stop that.”

  “Quiet.” Making suds in his hair, she made sure it dripped down his face and into his eyes.

  He dunked under the water, rose, and pulled her into the barrel next to him. Laughing like the village idiot, he grabbed the soap and lathered her body while she tried to slap him away. His fingers found her ribs where he knew she was ticklish and she squealed. “Truce, truce, truce. I give. Oh, help. Stop.”

  His thick pintle rubbed her belly. It would be so easy to wrap her legs around his waist and sink onto him.