***
As he witnessed his nephew’s wedding, Baudoin de Montbryce’s memory went back to his own marriage to Carys, two score years before. He and his brother Robert had married the same day, in a double ceremony. His wife and daughters would be disappointed they were missing these festivities. How blessed he’d been in his choice of a wife. It had been a challenge convincing his parents he should wed the daughter of his father’s arch enemy, and he’d whooped for joy when her father, Rhodri, had unexpectedly agreed to the marriage. Thanks be to God he’d persevered, sure of his love for Carys.
He prayed Aidan and Nolana would discover the same ecstasy and joy he’d enjoyed with Carys. Judging by their inability to keep their hands off each other, the carnal side of the marriage would proceed well. The family often jested it was the curse of the Montbryce men to be in love with their wives, unlike most noblemen of their acquaintance. Perhaps the curse would carry over to the FitzRams!
He leaned over to Gallien, kneeling beside him. “If only my brother Caedmon were here to see this. He’d be proud of his children.”
Gallien smiled. “Mayhap he is here. Tante Agneta too. Don’t you feel them?”
Baudoin looked towards the altar where Aidan and Nolana knelt, swearing their vows. Suddenly, a sparrow flew down from a beam and circled the interior of the church, causing many to look up as it flew overhead. It returned to the beam, where another sparrow roosted. Aidan glanced up at the beam then turned to look at his uncle over his shoulder. Baudoin well knew the dream Caedmon had recorded in his codex, having accompanied his half brother back from the Crusade. He smiled at Aidan and nodded, then turned to his eldest son. “You may be right, Gallien. You may be right.”
The rites proceeded. Aidan and Nolana were pronounced man and wife. He was about to claim his husband’s kiss, when the door banged open and a gust of wind swept a whirl of dust into the church. Necks craned as all eyes turned to see who had caused such a disturbance.
A tall, bearded man stood in the doorway, his legs braced. His garb bespoke a lowland Scot. A collective gasp echoed off the stone walls. The sparrows abandoned their nest. Nolana fainted in Aidan’s arms. Baudoin leapt to his feet, cursing that his sword, along with that of every man present, lay at Kirkthwaite Hall. He stood nose to nose with the newcomer. “Who are you? What is the meaning of this intrusion?”
The young man glowered. “I’m Ingram Maknab, son of Neyll.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Aidan lifted Nolana as his kinsmen rushed to the door of the church to confront the uninvited guest. They were unarmed, but would fight with any means at their disposal to protect their own.
Ragna tore off her wimple and fanned Nolana. His wife stirred in his arms and opened her eyes. She seemed disoriented for a moment but then gasped, “Ingram!”
He tightened his grip on her. “All is well. He’s being dealt with.”
She wriggled out of his arms. “They mustn’t hurt him, Aidan. He’s not his father. He’s a good man.”
He looked to the door of the church. Ingram held his hands out before him, no weapon in evidence. “Nolana,” he called out to her, “tell them I come in peace.”
She swept down the aisle, elbowed her way through the defenders, and embraced the Scot. Aidan’s gut clenched with jealousy. Who was this man? He strode to her side, pulled her away from the lowlander. “You’re holding my bride, intruding on my wedding.”
The Scot bowed. “I am not here to intrude. I’m happy to see Nolana wed. I come to claim my father’s body. It’s only right he be interred at Kolbrand’s Path. I am laird now. It’s time we put an end to the bad blood that has existed here for nigh on thirty years. My father allowed old hatreds and greed to rule him. He was a hard man to live with—Nolana can attest to that. I often bore the brunt of his anger, until he banished me.”
Nolana nodded in Aidan’s embrace. “He’s my half brother.”
Ingram continued. “I came to pledge friendship. Bloodshed and revenge benefit no one. Let what was in the past remain in the past.”
Aidan stared at him. Was he sincere? Nolana’s happy smile reassured him this man was to be trusted. He reached out his hand to the Scot. “Enter, Ingram Maknab. I was about to kiss my bride.”
He bent to kiss her, intending it to be gentle, but the highs and lows of the past hour and the exhilaration of the moment got the better of him and he kissed her fiercely, delving his tongue into her mouth. Everyone whooped their approval as Nolana’s face reddened and she clung to Aidan, returning his kiss.
It was as well Edwin had insisted Aidan wear a long doublet for the ceremony.
***
Aidan closed and barred the door of his chamber after firmly ushering out the last of the well-wishers. He’d made it quite clear he would take care of preparing his wife for bed without their aid. He turned to look at his bride. “If you’d licked the chicken juices off your fingers one more time I’d have taken you right there on the table.”
Nolana giggled, dipped her finger in her tumbler of mead and stuck it in her mouth, sending more arrows of desire to Aidan’s core. “Surely not in front of everyone, husband.”
Aidan took hold of her wrists. “Beware, Nolana, you can only tease a man so far.”
She blushed and cast down her eyes. “I’m sorry, Aidan, I didn’t mean to tease you.”
He was contrite. He hadn’t meant to make her feel a wanton, something Nolana definitely wasn’t. His intention was to make this night memorable and he’d started off on the wrong foot. He drained his own mead, then licked her fingers. “Sticky!”
She smiled shyly.
He drew her into his arms. “May I help you undress, my lady?”
She looked at him nervously and nodded. Her hands fidgeted with the belt of her surcoat. He gently brushed them away. “Let me.”
He undid the decorative knot Ragna had fashioned in the twisted gold thread and brushed his lips against her belly as the belt fell to the wolfskin rug. She was breathing more rapidly as she put her hands on his head. He looked up at her and smiled. “We won’t do anything you don’t wish to do this night. Do you want me to remove your shoes?”
He licked his lips. What would she think if she could read his thoughts as he imagined his tongue delving into her moist folds?
She nodded mutely. He drew her over to sit on the bed. He knelt and removed one shoe, then massaged the sole of her foot, digging his thumbs into her flesh. She leaned back on her elbows while he repeated the painstaking process with the other foot.
“Aidan,” she breathed.
Her pose accentuated the thrust of her lovely breasts. He might have to make greater haste. He ran his fingers lightly over the soles of her feet. She giggled. “I’m ticklish.”
By now he was a hungry wolf. When had his appetite become overwhelming? He’d never wanted a woman so badly.
Slowly he lifted her skirts until they were over her knees. He untied the bows securing her stockings and removed them, kissing each toe in turn. He ran his fingertips over her calves. Her skin was smooth as silk. “I hope my hands aren’t too rough,” he whispered.
“Perfect,” came the murmured reply. She was lying flat on her back now, legs parted slightly.
He leaned forward and smoothed his hands the length of her thighs, pushing the fabric far enough that he caught a glimpse of his goal. She must not feel invaded. He licked each thigh, starting at her knee and going as far as he dare. She had raised her hands to her head, entangling her fingers in her own hair. Her hips rose off the bed as she stretched languidly.
“Aidan,” she purred.
His need was pressing. “Sit up and I’ll take off your surcoat and léine. I want to see your body.”
She obeyed as he lifted the garments over her head and outstretched arms. The glint of passion he saw in her eyes sent more blood rushing to his groin. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’ve never been completely naked in front of a man.”
How could that be? She and th
e Baron had spent two nights together. He’d expired on the second night. What had happened the first night? He had to know, had to be sure.
She reluctantly told him how she’d duped the drunken sot, shyly showing him where she’d smeared the blood on her thigh. He bade her lay back, knelt between her legs and kissed her there, his eyes on her pink jewel and the golden curls of her mons. He eased her legs apart, turning onto his side, his weight on his forearm. He gently placed his thumbs on her most intimate place and opened her nether lips. “He never touched you here?”
She shook her head vigorously. Aidan fought to control the urge to leap up on the bed and beat his chest. “Do you like it?”
The shake turned to a nod. “It sends strange feelings through my body.”
Godemite!
He carefully slid one finger inside her, hooking it slightly as his father had indicated, feeling the inner flesh respond to his touch. God! She was warm and wet. She whimpered and lifted her head to look at him.
“Don’t be afraid. I love you.”
“As I love you. I was born to love you, Aidan.”
He’d longed to hear her say the words and relief washed over him. Caution be damned. He needed to taste her. He put his lips to her womanhood and licked her juices, swirling his tongue over her swelling nub. “Aidan.” There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice and in her eyes.
“I want to taste your honey. You are so sweet.”
As she watched him, mewling sounds emerged from her throat. He delved his tongue into her and she called out, crushing the bed linens in her hands, her hips lifting from the bed. He grasped her hips and held on, sucking and licking until she screamed.
He had yet to touch her breasts and she had released. Life with Nolana held promise.
He rested his head on her mons while her wits slowly returned and her breathing slowed. “Was that my little death?” she asked.
He chuckled. “The first of many.”
She sat up. “You’ve seen me. Now I want to see you. Again.”
His elation turned to puzzlement. “Again?”
She blushed and smiled. “I’ve seen you naked before.”
He searched his memory. “Where? When?”
“I’ll never tell.”
She screeched when he lunged for her. “You should never have told me you’re ticklish.”
She gasped for breath and laughed as he tickled her belly. “Pax! Pax! In the Infirmary,” she finally admitted. “I hid and watched the monks disrobe you. I was there when they brought you in from the hives.”
Panting he looked down at his naked wife, her breasts heaving. He wagged his finger at her. “Wanton woman! And did you like what you saw?”
Her face reddened more and she bit her lip. “It was the finest male body I’d ever seen.”
He preened, then it came to him what she’d said. There was a gleam in her eye. “But you’d never seen—”
She giggled. He sat on the edge of the bed, tore off his leggings, hose and braies and came to his feet beside the bed. She stopped giggling and gasped when she laid eyes on his manhood, rigid against his taut belly. “Aha! As I thought, wench. You didn’t see me to my best advantage then!”
She wanted to laugh with him at his jest, but her throat had gone strangely dry. She’d been right. The Baron and Aidan were two different kinds of creature. But how might such a thing fit inside a woman, inside her?
He must have sensed her fear. He reached for her hand and put it on his shaft. “Don’t be afraid. I know I am big, but we’ve already eased the way a bit and I’ll go slowly. Move your hand on me, like you did before.”
She obeyed, hoping she was doing it correctly. His shaft looked powerful, yet delicate and sensitive. The silkiness of his skin awed her. She’d an urge to run her tongue from root to tip. What would he think of that?
“I’d love it if you did,” he murmured. She hadn’t spoken out loud. Her wanton open-mouthed gaping and the way she’d licked her lips must have betrayed her desire. She bent to swirl her tongue over the swollen end of his shaft, then sucked him into her mouth. He groaned, raked his hands through her hair and rocked his hips slowly. “I can’t hold on much longer, Nolana. But this is sweet torture. I am at your mercy.”
The power she held as a woman struck Nolana for the first time. Giving herself to this man did not mean she had lost control. She’d gained more. Power could be a destructive thing. Maknab was a testament to that truth, but she and Aidan would never use the sway they held over each other to destroy. He might dominate her as the male, but he would do it to bring her pleasure, not pain.
Aidan withdrew his shaft from her mouth, cupped her face and kissed her lips, then her nipples. He suckled each hardened tip in turn, grazing them lightly with his teeth. She moaned and arched her back, cradling his head to her breasts. He carefully slid a finger inside her. “You’re still warm and wet. Are you ready for me?”
His eyes betrayed his need. His shaft looked painfully engorged. But he’d asked, not taken. “I’m ready, my love.”
He settled her on her back and opened her legs wide. His hand guiding his shaft, he dipped into her opening and slid inside in one thrust, never taking his eyes from hers. She tried not to grimace at the stab of pain that arrowed into her core, but he kept thrusting and the discomfort eased. “The pain will pass, Nolana. I cannot stop now.”
She gripped his shoulders, then his thighs. His body felt firm and vital. As the urgency of his thrusts increased, so did the warm tingling inside her, tantalizing, building, promising then fading, promising then fading, then mounting to an unbearable—suddenly she was tumbling into an abyss of soaring bliss, her cries mingling with Aidan’s primal shout as his essence filled her.
He collapsed onto her, breathing heavily. Her fists clenched. Panic threatened when she feared she might suffocate beneath him, but then she calmed, relishing his warm weight on her. He stirred and came up on his elbows. “Sorry, too heavy.”
She pulled him back, curling her arms around his shoulders, trailing kisses along his neck. “No, I can bear your weight.”
EPILOGUE
Ingram Maknab returned to Kolbrand’s Path with Neyll’s body. The Maknabs and FitzRams forged an alliance that brokered an end to many a bloody feud in the volatile borderlands between England and Scotland.
Gallien de Montbryce eventually inherited the title Third Earl of Ellesmere. Edwin took ownership of Shelfhoc Manor in the Welsh Marches and maintained a strong relationship with his cousins. The Montbryces and FitzRams worked to bring prosperity to the region.
Kirkthwaite Hall became famous throughout Northumbria for the quality of its mead and honey, which were rumoured to rival Lindisfarne. Aidan got used to being stung by bees, and taught his children to treat them with healthy respect. Aidan and Nolana FitzRam sired twelve children. Three sons and three daughters grew to adulthood. Nolana never returned to the Carnsith Fells.
Ragna? Who could predict what a Wild Viking Princess might do?
Medieval Mead Recipe
(from "Tractatus de magnete et operationibus eius")
(Translation follows, but it’s fun to try to decipher the language first!) ffor to make mede. Tak .i. galoun of fyne hony and to þat .4. galouns of water and hete þat water til it be as lengh þanne dissolue þe hony in þe water. thanne set hem ouer þe fier & let hem boyle and ever scomme it as longe as any filthe rysith þer on. and þanne tak it doun of þe fier and let it kole in oþer vesselle til it be as kold as melk whan it komith from þe koow. than tak drestis of þe fynest ale or elles berme and kast in to þe water & þe hony. and stere al wel to gedre but ferst loke er þu put þy berme in. that þe water with þe hony be put in a fayr stonde & þanne put in þy berme or elles þi drestis for þat is best & stere wel to gedre/ and ley straw or elles clothis a bowte þe vessel & a boue gif þe wedir be kolde and so let it stande .3. dayes & .3. nygthis gif þe wedir be kold And gif it be hoot wedir .i. day and .1. nyght is a nogh at þe fulle But ever after .i. hour or .2.
at þe moste a say þer of and gif þu wilt have it swete tak it þe sonere from þe drestis & gif þu wilt have it scharpe let it stand þe lenger þer with. Thanne draw it from þe drestis as cler as þu may in to an oþer vessel clene & let it stonde .1. nyght or .2. & þanne draw it in to an oþer clene vessel & serve it forth.
For to make mead. Take 1 gallon of fine honey and to that 4 gallons of water and heat that water till it be as long. Then dissolve the honey in the water, then set them over the fire and let them boil and ever scum it as long as any filth rises thereon.
Then take it down off the fire and let it cool in another vessel till it be as cold as milk when it comes from the cow. Then take lees from the finest ale or else barm (yeast) and cast it into the water and honey and stir all well together, but first look before putting your yeast in that the water with the honey be put in a clean tub and then put in your yeast or else the lees for that is best and stir well together.
Lay straw or else cloths about the vessel and above if the weather is cold and so let it stand 3 days and 3 nights if the weather is cold. And if it is hot weather, 1 day and 1 night is enough at the full. But ever after 1 hour or 2 at the most assay thereof and if you will have it sweet take it the sooner from the lees and if you will have it sharp let it stand the longer therewith.
Then draw it from the lees as clear as you may into another vessel clean and let it stand 1 night or 2 and then draw it into another clean vessel and serve it forth.
Thank you for reading Sweet Taste of Love. If you enjoyed this book, I would appreciate it if you would help others enjoy it too.
Recommend it. Help other readers find this book by recommending it to friends, readers’ groups and discussion boards.
Tweet about it.
Review it. Please tell other readers why you liked this book by reviewing it at the following websites: Amazon and Goodreads. If you do publish a review, send an email to anna at annamarkland dot com, so I can thank you personally.
Sweet Taste of Love (The FitzRam Family Medieval Romance Series) Page 10
