Shadow of the Swan

by Judith Sterling

  Meg awaited them in the great hall. “A hearty welcome to you both.”

  He grinned. “Many thanks, Meg.”

  Constance gave her a cautious smile. “I also thank you, Lady—”

  “Meg. Please!” Her violet eyes twinkled. “I already told you. I don’t stand on ceremony…when I can get away with it. Nor do I expect you to.”

  “Fine. Meg. I’ll try to remember.”

  The older woman made a sweeping gesture with one arm, and the sleeve of her gray tunic billowed like smoke. “As you see, the hall is smaller than Ravenwood’s. Everything is smaller here, but I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

  “I hope so too. I mean, I’m sure I will.”

  Meg gave her a probing look, then regarded Robert. “’Twas a long day for you both, so I’ve arranged for you to sup alone in the solar. Just for tonight, of course.” She turned to his bride. “The solar is attached to your bedchamber.”

  Constance fidgeted. “Mine?”

  “Yours and your husband’s. ’Tis ready and waiting for you.”

  Growing paler by the second, Constance motioned to him. “But ours is a spiritual marriage. I assumed I’d have my own chamber.”

  With a rueful expression, Meg shook her head. “I’m afraid I have the only other private chamber.”

  “Would you be willing to share it?”

  “I might, if I hadn’t already bidden Alice to do so.”

  “But I thought she would sleep where I do. Couldn’t we three share your chamber?”

  Meg’s gaze held compassion. “’Tis tiny compared to yours. You’ll have more room and an actual bed where I’ve put you. Unless, of course, you’d rather sleep in the hall on a pallet.”

  Constance hesitated and bit her lip.

  Robert rolled his eyes and could hold his tongue no longer. “Prithee, am I so vile you won’t share a space with me?”

  With a sigh, she turned to him. “Space, aye. But—”

  “But not a bed. ’Tisn’t as if you’d be curling up with a rat.” He searched her face for answers. “Or is it?”

  “That remains to be seen.” She cracked a smile. A real one.

  His stomach fluttered. And all she did was smile. Perhaps sharing her bed wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

  Chapter Six

  Sitting without repose on one of the solar’s high-backed chairs, Constance shifted positions. An unexpected chill crept in with the evening. The shutters were closed, and a fire danced and hissed on the hearth. The room was aglow with candles whose light harmonized to showcase the exquisite tapestries on the wall. Vibrant yet vulnerable, the flames quivered at the slightest draft.

  Her stomach quivered, too, as she stared at her half-eaten pigeon pie. Whatever made me agree to share his bed? The mention of rats? The thought of a prickly straw mat between her back and the cold, hard floor?

  From the other high-backed chair, Robert eyed the pie that lay unprotected on the table between them. “Do you plan to eat that?”

  A predator drawn to his prey. She shrugged. “I suppose not. Do you want it?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He attacked the food.

  She folded her hands in her lap. “Sir, your appetite is a thing of wonder.”

  He swallowed, then grinned at her. “Why, thank you.” His smile disappeared. “Or do you criticize?”

  “Not criticize. Marvel.”

  His dimples were back. The one on the right was deeper. “I’m a man of many talents, and eating is one of them.” He took another bite.

  “Evidently.” She cleared her throat. “I only wondered if…” Her stomach trembled as he licked sauce from his fingers.

  Abruptly, he ignored the food and studied her face. “If what?”

  She sighed inwardly. Just say it! “If all your appetites run that strong.”

  His intense stare roused something inside her. She’d never felt its like. Heat, not only in her face but her entire body.

  “You’re referring to appetites of the flesh.”

  She lifted her chin. “I am.”

  With a casual air, he leaned back. “I’ll admit I’ve enjoyed the company of women. Have I ever! Truly, deeply, unreservedly—”

  “I grasp your meaning.” She shifted again on her chair. “Do you think you can live without it?”

  “I’m willing to try.”

  “Trying won’t suffice. If we’re to share a chamber, I need a clear statement of your intentions.”

  He grabbed his wine, drained the cup, and plunked it down on the table. “We agreed to be friends, did we not?”

  “We did.”

  “Friends don’t steal from one another. They take only what is willingly given.”

  “Know this now: I shall never give it.”

  His gaze held hers. “So you’ve said.”

  “I mean what I say.”

  “As do I, and you have my word. I shall never force you to consummate our marriage.”

  Relief coursed through her. He was a man of his word; that much she knew. She was safe. All would be well.

  He slapped his thighs. “That said, shall we to bed?” He eased out of his chair and stretched his limbs. “The mattress is calling my name.”

  She hesitated only a second, then stood. “Odd. I thought it called mine.”

  “You don’t mean—”

  “No. The bed is as much yours as mine. We’ll share it.” ’Twas a simple matter of fairness. No need to overthink it. Then why do my legs feel weak?

  He glanced at her as they started toward the bedchamber. “Good. Feathers are far superior to the floor.”

  “So the mattress is stuffed with feathers. I noticed you testing it before; now I know why.”

  “I thought perhaps it held wool, which would’ve been fine. But I’ll take luxury any day. Here we are. After you, my lady.”

  The lively fireplace greeted them as they entered the chamber. Already, the space was warmer than before. Two stools stood in front of the fire. A table lined one wall; above it hung another fine tapestry, whose threads wove the image of a swan on a secluded, tree-lined pond. Directly opposite sat the bed. Its canopy was suspended from the ceiling, and rich green curtains spilled down around the carved, wooden headboard and frame. The inner sanctum, with its turned-down linen and coverlets, waited in shadow.

  She stared. A person could lose herself in a bed like that. And in eyes as infinite as her husband’s.

  Thud!

  She flinched, then slowed her breathing. Calm yourself. ’Twas only the door. Your husband is a man of honor. She listened for the scrape of the bolt. It didn’t come.

  Frowning, she wrenched her gaze from the bed and sought Robert. With hands clasped behind his back, he studied the tapestry.

  “Lady Ravenwood’s grandmother made this,” he remarked. “The ones in the solar, too. Uncommon skill!”

  Constance moved to stand beside him. “Indeed. I’ve never seen its equal. And what a fetching scene.”

  He turned to her but said nothing.

  After a moment, she met his gaze. “Why do you stare at me?”

  He grinned. “On the morrow, I want to show you something.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “’Tis a surprise.”

  “I don’t like surprises.”

  “Neither do I, on the whole. But you’ll like this one.” He reached toward his belt.

  She stepped back. “What are you doing?”

  “Undressing.” He set his belt on the table.

  Her stomach dropped. “Why?”

  “Aren’t you the suspicious one?” He pulled off his boots. “’Tis customary to doff one’s clothes at bedtime.”

  She whirled around, turning her back on him. “I slept fully clothed at the nunnery.” She stared hard at the stone wall.

  “I hate to state the obvious, but this isn’t a nunnery.”

  “Well, how do you sleep?”r />
  “Naked, of course.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks and forehead. “Is that necessary?”

  “I could wear my breeches.”

  She sighed. Whew!

  “On one condition.” His tone was loaded with meaning beyond her grasp.

  What condition? What does he want from me?

  She turned to face him. Apart from his calf-length breeches, he was nude. Her gaze locked onto his chest.

  Sculpted by combat. Scarred by war. Covered with black hair.

  “Any objection?” His voice was soft, deep.

  She forced her gaze to his eyes. They looked darker now. Was it a trick of the light?

  He’s waiting for an answer. Say something! “No.”

  “Good.”

  “How did you undress so fast?”

  “The battlefield teaches one to do everything fast.” His eyes sparkled. “Well, not everything.”

  Did her heart still beat? She couldn’t tell. His tone was so suggestive.

  “You blush, my lady.”

  Her hands flew to her cheeks. “And whose fault is that?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Mine. But if we’re to be friends, I have to speak honestly.”

  “About sexual matters?”

  “About all matters. Can you live with that?”

  She hesitated, then gave him a nod. “I can. And in that vein, what is the condition you proposed?”

  “Right. If I’m to smother myself with added linen—”

  “Breeches, Sir Robert. They’re just breeches.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “So say you. But if I do that, you must sleep in your chemise only.”

  Her jaw dropped. Then she frowned. “Why?”

  “For the sake of comfort.”

  “I’m comfortable clad.”

  He looked down, and his fingers seized the tie to his breeches. “Fine. If you’d rather I drop my—”

  “Stop!” She grumbled. “Very well. I’ll sleep in my chemise.”

  He smiled. “I’ll go lie in bed and shut my eyes, if you’d like.”

  “I would like.”

  “Do you prefer one side of the bed to the other?”

  She shrugged. “It matters not.”

  “Then I lay claim to the left.”

  As soon as the bed creaked beneath his weight, she removed her headdress. Then she disrobed as quickly as she could and scurried to the bed.

  “Why such haste?” he asked as she slid beneath the covers.

  “My feet are cold.”

  “Mine are warm. You’re welcome to—”

  “No, Sir Robert. I’ll warm up soon enough.”

  After a brief pause, he spoke. “May I ask a boon?”

  She pulled the sheet and coverlet higher. “If it involves arms and legs entwined in a passionate embrace, no.”

  “Whoa! Where did that come from?”

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “I shan’t lie and say I loathe the proposition. But I thought I made myself clear on the subject.”

  Her body relaxed. “You did. Forgive me. What boon do you seek?”

  “I like Meg’s informality. And I’d like us to drop the ‘sir’ and ‘lady’ when we’re alone.”

  “For what purpose?”

  He huffed. “Must there be a purpose?”

  “I suppose not. Very well…Robert.” His name without his title felt foreign on her tongue.

  “Thank you…Constance.”

  His casual address spun a web of intimacy around them. It warmed her. Or perhaps the warmth emanated from his body.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  She stared up at the canopy. I think your heat has penetrated my chemise. “Nothing.”

  “It took you long enough to say your ‘nothing.’ ”

  “Well…I was thinking this will be the first time in months I won’t wake for Matins.” She cringed inwardly. Would he believe her? She hated herself for lying.

  “Ah. Prayers. Does that trouble you?”

  “No.” That much was true. She could finally dispense with pretense, with acting the part she’d been forced to play…except for the bit that kept her husband at a safe distance.

  He turned on his side, and the bed groaned in protest.

  She sighed. “You’re staring at me again. Wherefore?”

  “You confound me. I’m trying to solve the mystery.”

  “There is no mystery. Good night…Robert.”

  The bed creaked as he turned onto his back. “Good night, Constance.”

  She closed her eyes and waited. Would he keep his word? Would he ask more questions? Would he—

  His snort interrupted her thoughts. Then his breaths grew long and deep. A short while later, his stomach rumbled.

  She stifled a giggle. Do you hunger even in your sleep?

  The idea was absurd, yet strangely endearing. Smiling, she slowed her breathing and let her thoughts fall away. The feather mattress and pillow soothed her body and coaxed her into a deep slumber. Just before daybreak, she dreamed.

  She sat up in bed and gazed at Robert’s sleeping form. He looked so handsome. The glow of goodness emanated from him.

  A blast of energy warmed her body and brought every nerve to life. It came from the woven scene on the opposite wall.

  With ease, she floated up and out of bed, then drifted toward the tapestry. Its colorful threads beguiled her. Inviting and irresistible, they reached out and wrapped around her.

  All at once, she was part of the scene. She’d merged with the swan, with its power and grace, and glided across the lake. Peaceful, blithe, she headed toward shore. Robert waited there.

  ****

  Robert’s dream unfolded with the dawn. He strolled toward the hidden pond. A beautiful white swan skimmed its surface and drew ever closer. As the bird stepped onto dry land, it grew and transformed into the figure of Constance. She wore only her chemise. Her hair flowed like a benediction over her shoulders. With a dazzling smile, she held out her arms to him.

  His need for her quickened, and he rushed into her embrace. Her lips parted. He lowered his head to taste the sweet nectar she tendered…

  He woke with a start. Of two things he was acutely aware: his rock-hard manhood and his bride’s warm body snuggled against him. Her delicate hand rested on his chest. Her hair smelled of roses. She sighed in her sleep as though singing.

  A sense of perfect peace settled over him. It almost offset the ill-timed awakening that yanked him from paradise.

  Would that you were so eager while awake, he thought.

  A cold gust whistled past him. He glanced at the window. The shutters gaped at the chamber, pouring light on its contents. They were closed when he went to bed, but perhaps Constance opened them during the night.

  Again, she sighed. Then she twitched and gasped. She looked up at him.

  He smiled. “Good morrow.”

  She recoiled to her side of the bed. “Good morrow. How did I end up…”

  “In my arms? I trow you were cold.” He sat up but hid his erection beneath the covers. The need to pee kept it firm.

  She gestured to the bedding. “We have fur enough to counter that. I don’t need yours.”

  With a wounded look, he lifted a hand to his hairy chest. “And here I thought you liked my—”

  “I do.” She sat up, pulling the bedclothes with her as a shield. “I mean…’tis acceptable.”

  “Acceptable.” He gave her a wry grin. “I’ve truly impressed you, haven’t I?”

  “Don’t take offense. I just didn’t expect to find you…so near.”

  He shrugged. “I was the warmest thing around.”

  “Still…”

  “Constance, if you didn’t want to cuddle, you shouldn’t have opened the shutters.”

  She glanced toward the window. “I didn’t open them.”

  He frowned. “Neither did I.” He turned his back, slid out of bed, and examined the shutters. The latch appeared sound
.

  “Mayhap someone entered while we slept. You didn’t bolt the door.”

  He rubbed his stubbly jaw. I didn’t want you to feel trapped. Nor did he want her threatened by his swollen member now. His gaze dropped to the chests along the nearest wall. He sidled over to one, extracted clean clothes, and covered his front with them. “Whatever the case, let’s focus on the day ahead of us…and my surprise. I shall dress in the solar. This chamber is yours.” He edged toward the door and opened it.

  Alice stood on the threshold. With arm upraised and fist poised to knock, she flinched. “Oh! Sir Robert.”

  “Perfect timing, Alice. Her ladyship is awake and ready to meet the day.” He looked back at Constance, or what he could see of her. Only her face was visible above the bedcovers she clutched in her hands. “I’ll meet you in the hall.”

  He didn’t have long to wait. Dressed in blue, Constance hastened into the hall and joined him beside the massive fireplace. A number of servants cast them curious glances but kept on with their cleaning.

  An image flashed in his mind: her dream-self standing beside the pond, welcoming him into her embrace. Again, his manhood stirred.

  Down, boy! I’ve heard enough out of you for one morning.

  He shoved the tantalizing memory aside and fixed his attention on the present moment. “My lady, how lovely you look.”

  Reaching a hand toward the raging fire, she gave him a closed-mouth smile. “Thank you, sir.”

  He inched closer and lowered his voice. “I’d rather you called me Robert as you did last night. But we’re out and about, so…”

  “Of course. Formality first.” Her gaze shot past him toward the far side of the hall. “There’s Meg. But who walked in with her?”

  He turned to look. “That’s Godwin, our steward.” Our steward. Ours. He smiled with satisfaction. “I’ve no acquaintance with the woman and children, though.”

  “I’d like to meet them.”

  “As you wish.”

  Together, they approached the group. Meg’s face lit up when she spotted them. She urged them forward and introduced them to Godwin, his sister Nelda, and her three-year-old twin daughters.

  Constance grinned at the curly-haired tots tugging at Nelda’s tunic. “What beautiful children!” She glanced at the mother’s massive belly. “And I see you’ll soon have another.”