by Speer, Flora
When she rose, she saw what he had seen. Blaise held Constance by one arm and was leading her out of the hall toward the stairs. It was evident from the way she dragged her feet and hung back that Constance went unwillingly. Aline took a step in her direction. Adam put out a hand to prevent her from leaving the dais.
“You cannot stop that,” he said. “It is her duty.”
“She’s afraid of him!”
“Then she must learn not to be afraid, but to accept her husband’s embraces. Blaise does not beat her, and I am certain he is not rough with her.”
“Did you ever – forgive me, I shouldn’t have said that.” But he answered her unspoken question anyway.
“No, Aline, I never forced my wife. Nor did she ever refuse me. She understood a wife’s duty as I understood a husband’s. As Blaise understands his duty.”
“You make it sound so tedious, so unemotional. Didn’t you feel the least bit of passion, or love?” It was another question she shouldn’t have asked, but she couldn’t seem to control her thoughts, or her tongue. He did not appear to be offended.
“Love,” Adam said, walking with her out of the great hall. “Passion. A young man’s dreams. An old man’s forgotten hopes.”
“You are not old.” She responded to the note of sadness in his voice. So Adam, bound in a loveless marriage, had dreamed of something more.
“I am forty-two, much too old to dream of love.” Taking up an oil lamp from a table in the entry hall, he mounted the stairs behind her and followed her to her chamber door. Blaise and Constance had disappeared ahead of them, presumably to their own chamber. “How old are you, Aline? It’s an impudent question, I know, but this evening you and I have spoken as if we were old and dear friends.”
“I have just turned thirty-four,” she said.
“And do you think you are too old for passion?” A faint smile curved his lips.
“I am convinced of it.” She opened her door and would have entered her room, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“You will want this,” he said, giving her the oil lamp.
“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”
He put a finger under her chin, lifting the face she had bowed over the small flame of the lamp. With the same finger he traced the outline of her lips while she held her breath.
“Are you absolutely certain you are too old?” he asked, and left her there.
Chapter 3
“I want the great hall decorated,” Adam announced early the next morning. “If we are to bring in greenery, we will have to do it before midday, for I believe it will soon begin to snow again.”
“We’ll need a Yule log,” cried Blaise, entering into the spirit of his father’s suggestion. “I know where the mistletoe grows. Let us ride into the forest as soon as we have broken our fast and see what we can find there.”
“Constance, Lady Aline, you will join us,” Adam commanded.
“Oh, no,” Constance replied. “I cannot. The cold – and I would have to ride. Oh, no, my lord, I beg you, let me remain here and supervise the cooking. There is so much to be done before the holy day. Oh, my lord, do please allow me to stay behind.”
“Nonsense, Connie.” Aline broke into the stream of protesting words. “It will be fun, and you deserve a break from your chores. The fresh air will make your cheeks pink and give you an appetite.”
“Now, there you are right,” said Blaise, who had given Aline a strange look upon hearing her nickname for his wife. “Constance is too pale, and much too thin for my liking.”
“Oh, my lord Blaise, I am sorry if I displease you.” Constance began to apologize, but Adam stopped her.
“Lady Aline does not like to ride, either,” Adam said. “Therefore, she will ride pillion behind me and you, Constance, will ride in the same manner behind Blaise.” He gave Aline a conspiratorial wink that she assumed meant she was to go along with this notion.
“What a good idea,” she said bravely, trying to hide her own trepidation at the thought of riding on a horse. But perhaps there was a way to make the riding easier. The measuring look she cast upon Adam and then on Blaise made each man shift position a bit uncomfortably. “Before I venture out of doors, however, I will need the right clothing. Those aren’t trousers you are wearing, they’re more like tights. I could probably roll a pair down at the top so they aren’t too long, and tie them around my waist to keep them up.”
“Do you mean our hose?” exclaimed Blaise.
“Yes, if that’s what you call them,” Aline responded. “I will also need a warm woolen tunic and an undershirt, too. I can wear my own cape. Oh, and a pair of shoes or boots. My own aren’t sturdy enough for tramping around in the snow.”
“Do I understand,” asked Adam, “that you are proposing to don men’s clothing?”
“It’s the sensible way to go.” Seeing how horrified he was by the idea, she gave him a wink to match the one he had sent her.
“On second thought,” Adam said, apparently deciding to go along with whatever Aline was trying to do, “it does sound like the best way for you to keep warm. I’ll see that you have what you need.”
“Thank you, my lord. Connie, what about you? If you wear a long skirt, it will only get wet and be uncomfortable.”
“Oh, no, I could not.” Constance began her usual protest, but she was brought up short by Blaise’s shout of laughter.
“Yes, Connie,“ he said. “A tunic and hose will make it easier for you to ride. Astride,” he added, lowering his voice until only Constance and Aline, standing together near Blaise, could hear his next words. “You will have to spread your legs and grip your mount tightly to keep from falling off. Do you think you can do that?”
Aline put an arm around Constance, who was staring white-faced at Blaise. Aline looked at Blaise, really looked at him, in mingle fury and embarrassment for Connie’s sake. To her astonishment she saw in his countenance something other than the contempt and cruelty she had expected to find there. On Blaise’s handsome face as he regarded his wife, she saw a faint glimmer of hope.
“If I can do it, you can,” she said to Connie.
“My lord,” Connie whispered, still staring at Blaise, “are you giving me permission to wear men’s clothing? But it would be most improper.”
“Permission?” Blaise looked her up and down, then let his glance flicker toward Aline. “No, Connie, I do not give you permission. Nor do I command you. I challenge you. Will you accept the dare?”
“Oh, my lord, please –“
“Do it,” Aline whispered into her ear. “Take a chance. Say yes.” She could feel Connie sucking in a great gulp of air, felt the girl trembling, and trying to control herself.
“Yes, my lord.” Connie’s voice was barely audible. “I will go in men’s clothing.”
“Well done, my dear.” Blaise laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Aline thought it might be the first time he had ever shown approval of any act of Connie’s. “You cannot wear my clothes; I’m much too large for them to fit you, but I know a stableboy who is about your size. Go to our chamber and undress. I’ll be there shortly with your new costume and I will help you to put it on.”
“Do you really think you ought to?” Connie began. Blaise cut off her pleading words.
“Trust me, Connie. You cannot hope to fasten your hose alone.”
“Go on,” Aline urged, pushing Connie toward the hall doorway. “Do as he says. And don’t forget to thank him for helping you. But not for allowing you to wear a tunic and hose. That was your decision, not his.”
“My lady Aline,” Adam said, coming up behind her, “your methods are positively scandalous.”
She whirled around just in time to catch him laughing at her.
“If you will retire to your own chamber,“ he said, “I will shortly appear at your door with the garments you will need. Dare I hope that, like Constance, you will also require assistance to don them?”
“I’m sure I can figure things out for myself,”
she retorted.
“As you wish. However, should you discover that you cannot manage alone, do not hesitate to call for me and I will rush to your aid.”
“You are the perfect host, my lord.” He bowed politely at that, but the look in his eyes was both dangerous and exciting.
“It is my intent to see you well served during your stay at Shotley,” he replied.
In order to put on boys’ clothing, Connie had been forced to remove her coif, revealing braids of a lovely golden-brown shade. She also had beautiful legs. The tan woolen hose Blaise had found for her were a little too small, so they fit snugly, outlining every feminine curve of her calf and thigh. The low brown leather boots and brown woolen tunic only emphasized the fact that she possessed a slender, delicate figure. Her newly revealed charms were not lost upon her husband. When Blaise saw the other men surreptitiously looking in Connie’s direction, he made haste to cover her with a voluminous cloak. But the point had been made, and frequently during their woodland excursion that morning Aline noticed him regarding Connie with a smoldering gaze.
“I feel so wicked,” Connie whispered to Aline as they stood in the inner bailey waiting for the horses to be brought out of the stable. “These hose are so unlike women’s clothing. My own stockings are gartered just below the knee, but these go up to my waist. They touch my body in strange ways.”
“Enjoy it,” Aline whispered back, just before Blaise claimed his bride and bore her off to mount her behind him on his massive chestnut steed.
As for Aline, Adam’s hose were far too large for her, so they hung wrinkled but warm about her legs. The shoes were also too big, but serviceable.
“I could have helped you to a smoother fit,” Adam chided. “And a belt would nip in that too-large tunic.”
“I’ll be just fine this way, thank you. What have you done with my cape?’
“Exchanged it for this cloak,” he told her. “It is shorter and thus will be easier to manage after you are mounted.” He lifted her onto his black horse and with a small company of servants to help, they set off for the nearby forest.
It was a sparkling day, with a deep blue sky, though Aline could see a line of clouds along the western horizon.
“Is that the storm you think well come tonight?’ she asked Adam.
“Sooner than tonight,” he replied, turning his head to look back at her. “Is it well with you, Lady Aline? I cannot see you when you ride behind me.”
“No problem at all,” she assured him.
“Your hands will be cold. I should have given you gloves.”
“I think yours would be too large for me,” she said, conscious of the way she was forced to sit with her arms wrapped around his waist.
“No matter. I’ll keep you warm thusly.” He covered her clasped hands with one of his, then drew a fold of his cloak around them, tucking in the fabric to keep her fingers warm.
They rode across the fields and a mile or more into the woods before Blaise called a halt.
“Here is holly and pine,” he said to Adam, “and ivy on the ground just there. Ahead is a tree I marked earlier in the year for our Yule log. Come along, lads.” Having dismounted and helped Connie to the ground, he led three young men armed with axes into the trees, leaving Adam to direct the rest of their party in gathering the necessary greenery. A large piece of heavy cloth had been brought along, and now this was spread out on the ground like a tarpaulin. Soon they were all piling branches of pine and holly onto the cloth.
“Here’s the ivy.” Connie grabbed a stem and pulled, her feet slipping in the snow. She went down face first. Aline expected her to dissolve into tears, but she got up laughing. There was a smudge of mud on her nose and her cheeks were as pink as Aline had predicted they would be. She looked surprisingly pretty.
“Blaise said he was glad I came with him,” Connie informed Aline, who was trying to remove some of the dirt from her tunic. “I expected to be cold and wet, but this is fun.”
“Perhaps you should put on boys’ clothing more often,” Aline said.
“It is comfortable. But the hose produce the most unusual sensations.” Connie’s cheeks grew pinker still. In a moment she was back at work on the ivy, pulling up long strands of it. At the same time, the young men who had come with them began to move farther into the forest under Adam’s direction, searching for more pine boughs and more red-berried holly. Aline stood alone, looking about the area where they had been working.
“We need mistletoe, too,” she murmured, glancing upward to see if she could find any. She quickly located a tree bearing a growth of the parasitic vine, but there were no branches on the tree that were low enough to offer help in climbing it. There was a pine growing close to the host tree. “If I climb up that pine until I’m level with the mistletoe and then pull hard on it, I’ll bet it would come down.”
Standing underneath the pine tree she could see its branches spread out like steps, inviting her to climb them. It was years since she had climbed a tree, but she worked out at a health club three times a week and did a lot of brisk walking. Deciding she was strong enough to do the job, she raised both hands over her head and grabbed a branch. Swinging her feet onto another branch, she began to work her way upward.
It wasn’t a hard tree to climb and soon she had reached the height of the mistletoe vine. She moved outward along a pine branch until she could reach over to the other tree and get a tight hold on the stuff. And then she pulled. The mistletoe would not come loose. She pulled again.
“Whoops!” She caught herself just in time to prevent a nasty fall, but she had the mistletoe, a fair-sized clump of it, the branches thick with waxy berries.
“You foolish woman,” came a masculine voice. “What are you doing?”
“Hello, Adam,” she called. “I’m up here.”
“I can see where you are. Get down at once!”
“I have the mistletoe. Here, catch.” She tossed it at him. “Watch the berries, you don’t want to lose any. Someone ought to carry it home separately, instead of piling it in with the other greens.”
“Will you get down before you fall!” It wasn’t a question; it was an order.
“No problem. It’s as easy as going down a ladder.” Aline knew she was showing off. She liked teasing Adam, and she liked even better knowing he was concerned for her safety. “I shall now make an elegant descent.”
Of course, she promptly lost her footing and nearly fell straight to the ground. She caught herself just in time, hanging by both hands from a branch until she could find a place to put her feet. After a pause until her heart stopped thumping against her ribs, she began to climb down more carefully.
“Jump,” Adam called from directly below her. “Jump before you fall and break your neck.”
“I do not intend to fall,” she replied, still moving downward.
“You almost did. Why must you be so independent? You should have waited for me to send a man up the tree to get your confounded mistletoe for you.”
“I learned a long time ago that if I wait for a man to do something for me, it will never be done,” she said. “Independence feels great.”
“Aline! This is not fitting behavior for a noblewoman.” He sounded angry, or at least very annoyed. She turned herself around on the branches so she could look at him. He was only a couple of feet below her, with one arm stretched out to hold aside a low branch and thus make a space large enough for him to stand. His face was turned upward and she thought he looked more worried than angry. Perhaps it was fear for her she had heard in his voice.
“Aline,” he said more quietly.
“Oh, all right,” she replied and, letting go of the branches, she launched herself into his arms.
He wasn’t expecting her. She knocked him down and together they rolled over and over. First Adam was beneath her, then on top of her, and their arms were around each other. They lay there in the snow with Adam’s full weight pressing on her and his mouth less than an inch from hers.
“Aline.” With a groan that came from somewhere deep inside him, he lowered his mouth to hers.
And Aline responded. With no pretense of resistance she gave herself up to his scalding kiss. It was what she wanted. Their mouths fit together perfectly, with a tenderness and a depth of emotion that shocked her. Where were all her carefully built defenses now, when she needed them? She who had vowed never to let herself be hurt by another man, she who refused to let any man get close enough for this heart-stopping, aching beauty? Melted, that was where the protective walls were – melted away in less than twenty-four hours in the fires generated by a middle-aged Norman baron.
She wanted him. Long-forgotten urgings of her body, deliberately repressed, forbidden admittance to her conscious mind, began to stir and awaken while Adam kissed her and she kissed him back…
“Aline.” His lips were on her throat.
’Too old for passion?” Gently she mocked him, and herself, while she tried to get her feelings under control again. “I don’t think you have finished with life yet, my lord.”
“No more than you have.” Briefly his lips touched hers once more.
“Aline, my lord Adam, are you injured?” Connie knelt beside them “What are you doing here under the tree?”
“I thought it was obvious,” Adam murmured into Aline’s ear. “I must be doing it all wrong.”
“Oh, no, my lord, it was very right.” Aline began to laugh and Adam joined her. After a minute or two he helped her to stand and they tried to brush the pine needles and snow off each other, there beneath the tree with a bewildered Connie watching them.
“We are unhurt,” Adam said to his daughter-in-law. “Lady Aline fell out of the tree and knocked me down. Here’s the mistletoe she plucked. You carry it home, Constance, and be careful lest you lose any berries. I have a feeling we are going to use all of them before Twelfth Night ends.”
“Out of the tree?” said Connie when the three of them were standing near the tarpaulin full of greenery. “Aline, did you climb into it, then? I would never think to do such a dangerous thing.”
