Still crouched, frozen in confusion, Nolana glanced back to where she had last seen Aidan. Only Maknab stood there now, swaying on his feet, his sword bloodied. A body lay at his feet.
All is not well.
Filled with screaming rage, she tightened her grip on the dagger and rushed at Maknab. Bloodlust clouded her vision. She would kill him, or die trying. He turned and smirked, raising his sword. The smirk left his face and he looked down in apparent disbelief at the dagger embedded in his chest.
She looked at her shaking hand. It still held the Danish dagger. She looked back at Maknab. Edwin stood with his foot on the laird’s chest, wiping a dagger on his playd.
She fainted.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Nolana startled awake, smoke stinging her nostrils. She gulped in air, then felt an urgent need to expel it in a loud scream. “Aaaaaaidannnn?”
Strong hands took hold of her shoulders. Her body knew the feel of those hands. “Hush, Nolana, it’s all right. I’m here.”
She grasped a hand and held it to her face. It held the scent of Aidan, but she’d seen him lying dead at the hand of Maknab. Someone stroked her hair, cooing soft words. She swallowed hard, opened her eyes and looked around. She lay atop one of the pallets in the Hall. Aidan leaned over her, one hand smoothing hair off her face, the other arm swathed in bandages up to his shoulder.
She struggled to sit up. “What—?”
He pushed her down gently. “Don’t try to get up. All is well. We won. Maknab is dead. Edwin finished the job for me.”
“I remember. I thought you were dead and I hadn’t told you—please forgive me.”
He kissed her forehead. “There is nothing to forgive.”
She closed her eyes, trying to sort out the images. “Those men, horses—”
“I’ll let Edwin explain.”
She hadn’t noticed Aidan’s brother standing nearby. He came to the side of her pallet. “Tell her,” Aidan said.
“It was my uncle, Baudoin de Montbryce, with his sons and a party of their knights—from Ellesmere.”
This did not make sense. “In the Marches?”
Aidan chuckled. “Aye. They made it here in three days.”
Nolana looked at both brothers. Edwin seemed pleased with himself. “I don’t understand. How did they know you needed them?”
Edwin grinned. “I sent a bird to Shelfhoc with word to ride to Ellesmere for help.”
Aidan raked his good hand through his hair. “It was so bloody simple and obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t think of it. We use pigeons regularly to send messages to Shelfhoc.”
Edwin laughed and punched Aidan’s good shoulder. “You were preoccupied with other things.” He looked pointedly at Nolana, winked and walked away.
Aidan shook his head. “Who would have believed my timid brother Edwin would be the one to save us?”
“But you’re hurt, Aidan.”
He shrugged. “Baudoin’s arrival took me by surprise. I let my guard down for a moment and Maknab managed to slash my shoulder. Apparently, your maniacal attack distracted him sufficiently that Edwin felled him with a dagger through the heart.”
She smiled. “Maniacal? Are you saying I’m a mad woman?”
He kissed her. “Mad for me, I hope.”
She blushed and nodded.
“This arm is something of an impediment, otherwise I would put both arms around you and ask you to be my wife, Nolana Kyncade.”
She rose and knelt on the pallet so they were eye to eye, reached out and put both arms around him. “I have two good arms, and I say yes to your proposal, Sir Aidan Branton FitzRam.”
He smiled and seemed about to kiss her, but then—“Are you sure you want to live in England, Nolana? You miss your homeland.”
She sighed. “I love the Fells, but I wouldn’t be happy there without you. And Maknab razed my father’s towerhouse.”
He kissed her deeply, holding her firmly round the waist with his one good hand, savouring the softness of her breasts against his chest. They clung together for a long while. He didn’t want the moment to end, but became aware of several curious figures watching them. “Come, Baudoin wants to meet you, but don’t be too friendly with my handsome cousins.”
***
As they walked to the courtyard, Aidan’s hand resting possessively on her hip, Nolana savoured a contentment she’d not experienced since childhood. She felt safe at last, as though she were back in her father’s care. This strong, gentle man would be true to his word.
She confided to Aidan that she’d never met an Earl before. He reassured her. “Baudoin isn’t haughty like some Norman earls. He and my father weren’t just half brothers, they were friends.”
When she caught sight of his cousins, her eyes widened. Gallien and Etienne de Montbryce were indeed handsome young men. Tall, broad shouldered and well muscled, they were replicas of their father, Baudoin, the Earl of Ellesmere, who stood beside them. Though the Norman had lived half a century he was still an attractive man. His greying hair had probably once been as inky black as his sons’.
She made to curtsey when Aidan introduced her, but Baudoin took her hand and kissed it, as did his sons. They exchanged polite pleasantries and discovered Gallien and Nolana had been born in the same year. Both were nineteen, Etienne two years younger.
Aidan shook his uncle’s hand. “I can’t possibly express my relief at your presence here. You and your men made the decisive difference in this battle. Thank you.”
Baudoin put a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t hesitate once we received Edwin’s message. Your father was a great man, Aidan. You know he saved my life in Florence. You are family and Montbryces stand with family. I was immensely saddened by the news of your parents’ drowning. I thank the saints every day neither of my sons was aboard the fated White Ship. We are one of the few Anglo-Norman families that did not lose a son or daughter. It doesn’t bode well for the future of this country or for Normandie. You heard tell there was only one survivor?”
Aidan nodded his head. “Aye, a butcher from Rouen, who’d gone aboard to collect a debt! According to him, Prince William survived and was hauled into a smaller boat, but he ordered it turned around when he heard his half sister’s pleas for help.”
Baudoin shook his head. “Oui, then so many scrambled onto the rescue boat that it too sank. William’s cousin, Stephen, must be offering many prayers of thanks that he stepped off the boat just before it sailed.”
Edwin had joined them. “Rather like what happened to us. We changed places with our parents, because of mother’s illness. Aidan’s suggestion saved us.”
Aidan shrugged, relieved to finally accept that painful truth without feeling guilt. “Edwin, you’re the one who saved us this time. Thank you. You have proven yourself a capable warrior. I cede to you Shelfhoc Hall to oversee as yours. I cannot adequately take care of both Halls and the Sussex estates.”
Edwin clasped his hand and the brothers embraced. “Thank you, Aidan, I love Shelfhoc Hall.”
Baudoin slapped Edwin on the back. “Good! You’ll be close to us in the Marches, nephew. Now, where’s that wilful niece of mine?”
Aidan chuckled. “Believe it or not, Ragna has taken charge of running the household.”
Nolana gasped. “I was supposed to be helping her.” She hastened away.
The men watched her go.
Gallien rubbed his chin. “If I was a few years older, Cousin Aidan, you’d have a fight on your hands for Nolana. She’s beautiful.”
Aidan wagged a finger at his cousin. “If you so much as look at her with too much interest, I’ll have your hide. She is mine.”
Baudoin laughed. “She is lovely, Aidan. I’m anxious to hear her story, and what you intend with her. Her brogue reminds me of your father. Is she a Scot?”
“Aye, from the north. My intention is honourable, uncle. She is to be my wife.”
Baudoin stretched his arms over Edwin and Aidan’s shoulders. “Good! It hasn’t bee
n easy for your family, but this is the way your parents would have wanted it. If you had drowned, they would have been devastated. But, we are still alive, and I for one am hungry. I smell an enticing aroma coming from the kitchens. I see my sons have already followed their noses. There’ll be no food left if we don’t go quickly.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Baudoin de Montbryce and Caedmon FitzRam had been half brothers, but the resemblance was so striking most people believed they were full brothers. Aidan therefore found it appropriate that his uncle was still at Kirkthwaite when he married Nolana. His presence was a comfort.
Aidan’s shoulder wound was healing well and Ragna had allowed the bandages to be removed. She embraced the task of preparing for the wedding with great glee. In her usual whirlwind manner, she created a flurry of activity in every corner of the manor house. Cook was schooled in the exact dishes to be served. Seamstresses from the village were employed to create new gowns, and she threatened them with dire consequences if her instructions were not followed. Servants were tasked with sweeping and cleaning the manor and woe betide anyone who appeared at the celebration with a tunic that was anything but pristine. All the while she oversaw the care of the wounded.
She soon had Gallien and Etienne at her beck and call, which amused their father greatly. He told Aidan, “They’re not used to being bullied by a female. They have two sisters, of course, but Fleurie and Isabelle are timid. Ragna’s got these two wrapped around her little finger.”
Aidan smiled. “That’s Ragna, our Wild Viking Princess. She certainly is the one who most exhibits our Danish ancestry. Can’t you envision her at the prow of a longboat? Mayhap she should have the ceremonial dagger, rather than Blythe.”
Edwin was delighted to be Aidan’s second. In short order he had the men-at-arms cleaning their uniforms and weapons. He arranged for the village priest from Bolton to conduct the ceremony, and somehow managed to fill the small church with fresh flowers. He selected which of Aidan’s doublets, leggings and boots he judged suitable for the rites. He aided Leofric with the burial of the dead.
It rather amused and comforted Aidan. Caedmon and Agneta would be proud of all their offspring. Their deaths had brought their children closer.
He shared his thoughts with Nolana on the eve of their wedding. They had fled Ragna’s frenzied activities and found the gallery deserted. She stood in front of the hearty fire, rubbing her arms. He came up behind her and pulled her back against him, his arms crossed under her breasts. The warm weight of them felt delicious. He’d been determined not to become too aroused in anticipation of the morrow, but it was useless. He was sure she could feel his hard need pressed against her bottom. “Let me warm you.”
She leaned her head back against his good shoulder. “I’m not cold, only nervous.”
He kissed her neck, delighted to feel her tremble. He was sure his betrothed was a passionate woman. She’d endured a terrible agony in her first marriage bed and he was determined to erase that memory. He would use every one of his father’s seductive suggestions to bring her pleasure. He couldn’t imagine there’d been anything pleasant in the Baron’s lovemaking efforts. “Everything will go to plan. No one would dare let any detail go awry with Ragna breathing down their neck.”
She pulled away from him. “I’m not worried about the arrangements. This will be the most organized wedding in history!”
A knot of fear coiled in Aidan’s breast. She was still afraid. He thought he had slain her demons—the Baron and Maknab were dead, and she had admitted she would not be happy without him in Scotland—but something held her in its thrall. He turned her to face him. “Tell me, Nolana. What is it that haunts you?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I envy your love of your mother, Aidan.”
This he had not expected. He remained silent, hoping she would confide in him.
“I came to despise my mother. Her weakness was the cause of my torment.”
He held her close, fingering her hair. “I don’t understand.”
“My mother didn’t love Maknab, but she allowed him to control her life, and mine, because she didn’t want to be alone. She needed the support of a man so badly, it killed her, and almost cost me my life. I need you, Aidan, but I’m afraid to surrender myself to you.”
Aidan took a deep breath, hoping his words would not alienate her. “I am not Maknab, and you are not your mother. I never met her, and I don’t know what drove her to him, but I do know what grief can do. I shut myself up in a monastery. Don’t judge your mother too harshly, Nolana. My grandmother took her own life and at the time my mother hated her for it, but she came to understand the power of grief and despair. Maknab sought to exploit your mother. That’s not why I want you. I love you. You’re essential to my happiness.”
Nolana inhaled sharply and rocked her head in her hands. “But you might die!”
He took hold of her shoulders. “Death comes to us all—”
“No!” she shouted. “I mean in our marriage bed. You teased me about a little death, but I don’t see the humour. My husband died trying to enter me. I am a sinner and God cursed my marriage bed because I wished for my husband’s death.”
Aidan’s mouth fell open.
Trying, she’d said.
He took another deep breath, his thoughts in turmoil. He suddenly sensed how fragile this young woman was. “Listen to me carefully, Nolana. You’ve not had the benefit of a mother to enlighten you about marriage and what happens between a man and a woman.”
She wrenched away from him. “I know only too well. I was wed to a monster. I hated his touch.”
He pulled her back. “Do you have the same feelings when I touch you?”
Tears flowed freely down her blushing cheeks. “No. My feelings for you are different. I ache for you.”
He kissed her forehead, humbled and exhilarated to be the man initiating his beautiful Nolana into these intimacies. “My sweet, it’s the ache of desire that leads to the little death. The joining of a man and a woman can be wonderful. It transports a person to another world. You die a little death. You’re out of your earthly body for a few glorious moments and you enter heaven.”
She clung to the front of his doublet and lay her forehead against his chest. He put his hand on the back of her neck. She was warmer than a few moments before. “Our joining won’t be the same as the one you endured with Grouchet.”
She glanced up at him, confusion in her eyes. “Grouchet didn’t—you believe—no! He never joined his body to mine. He died trying.”
Aidan wished the drumming in his ears would cease, then realized it was his heart. He dared not open his mouth lest a tiny squeak emerge. He wanted to laugh, cry, scream, shout. Instead, full of hope, he murmured, “You’re still a virgin?”
She looked at him strangely. “Of course, I thought you understood that. Were it otherwise, you wouldn’t want me for wife.”
The enormity of her innocence struck him full force, but he had to be forthright. “Nolana, it wouldn’t matter to me if you’d been taken by a whole army of men, I would still want you for my wife,”—she wriggled to get free—“but I cannot tell you how elated I am I will be your first love. I promise it will be memorable. In a good way!”
She gave up her struggles and leaned into him. “Forgive me, Aidan. I am unversed in the ways of good men. Please, be patient.”
If they weren’t getting married on the morrow, he would have torn the clothes from her body and claimed her on the planked floor of the gallery his mother loved so well. He cleared his throat, hoping the throbbing need he pressed against her would not alarm her. How to know what horrors had transpired in the misbegotten matrimonial bed of the Baron?
Perhaps a taste of what was to happen in their marriage bed might be in order, just to reassure her. He took her hand and placed it on his arousal. She startled, but did not take her hand away. “This is for you, Nolana. On the morrow, we’ll join our bodies and I will bury myself deep inside you, m
aking us one.”
She nodded, her breathing ragged, but kept her hand still. “Feel me, Nolana, feel what you do to me. I grow hard at your touch.”
Slowly, her fingers pressed against his shaft. Tingles spiralled up his spine. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. The morrow seemed a long time off. He cupped her breasts in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the erect nipples. She moaned. He bent to lick each nipple in turn through the fabric of her gown. The pressure of her fingers increased. She murmured his name.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Nolana woke before dawn on the day of her wedding, still murmuring Aidan’s name. She’d felt bereft the night before when he’d curtailed their intimacies, but it had been difficult for him too. She’d wanted to wrestle him to the floor and tear off his clothes, put her hands on his flesh.
Aidan inflamed her. The memory of his lips on her breasts made her mouth go dry. Wetness flooded her most intimate place when she recalled the feel of his hard male length in her hand. She stretched languidly, purring like a lazy cat. Yawning, she sat up and lifted her breasts, fingering her pointed nipples, remembering Aidan lying naked in the Infirmary.
When Maknab and Grouchet ogled her she felt nothing but revulsion. The loving lust in Aidan’s warm blue gaze made her knees go weak and filled her with an urge to tear off her clothes and press his lips to her breast. This was what it was to desire a man. She ran her fingers through the snarls in her hair. Had her mother ached with the same feelings for her father? She’d been devastated by his death. Perhaps Aidan was right. The grief and loneliness had been too much to bear. It had driven her to Maknab.
Suddenly, Ragna flew into the chamber. “Come along, no lolling in bed today. We’ve much to do.”
With a happy sigh, Nolana surrendered to the ministrations of her soon to be sister-by-marriage. It would be good to have a sister. Marriage to Aidan was providing her with a family as well as a husband, and, if God wished it, they would have children of their own. Life was good.
Sweet Taste of Love (The FitzRam Family Medieval Romance Series) Page 9
