by Alice Gaines
“The Vikings haven’t hurt none of us, lady,” the old miller’s daughter said. “By our way of thinking, that’s your doing.”
“You give me too much credit,” Josalyn said, but the drowsy smiles on their faces proved the message hadn’t gotten through.
“Now with your goodness and Ulric’s strength, we’re safe and cared for,” the farmer’s wife said. “All because of you.”
Joan, one of the workers from the scullery came forward and dropped to her knees before Josalyn. “I do heartily thank you.”
Josalyn reached a hand down to her. “Please get up.”
“I never told you, but when my baby son fell in the river and drowned, I almost followed him,” Joan said.
That dreadful day. The tiny body they’d found downstream. The poor woman had cried in her lap for days.
“I would have been a suicide,” Joan said. “You saved my soul.”
Josalyn helped the woman get to her feet. “I’m not a saint. I can’t save souls.”
“You saved our farm after the flood wiped us out,” the farmer’s wife added. “We owe you everything.”
“Enough for tonight,” Josalyn said. “’Tis late.”
The farmer’s wife curtseyed. “Good night, my lady.”
“Be well,” Josalyn said. “Take care finding your homes, or curl up before the fire in the hall.”
With more murmured thanks and blessings, they filed out, and Anne closed the door behind them. “Do you still think I could replace you?”
“I pray you could.” Josalyn went to the bed and sank onto it. “Good night.”
“You’ll do the right thing. You always do,” Anne said before letting herself out and closing the door behind her.
Do the right thing. She always did. It appeared she’d have to do it again.
“Curse you, Viking.”
***
Not even the worst battle, with men screaming and dying and blood running in streams, stopped Ulric’s heart in his chest as completely as the sight of his bride as she stood beside him in her family’s chapel. Her women had dressed her in a kirtle the color of buttered cream. Her green eyes were huge in her face, and her parted lips offered the sweetness of ripe fruit. She stood next to him, her hands folded in front of her and her gaze downcast. Even through her gown, he could detect the swell of her small breasts and the curve of her hips. He’d feel those curves under his palms this night. He’d taste her, thrust inside her.
She was frightened now. He’d hurt her later–unavoidable with a virgin. But, before the next morning dawned, he’d hear her cry of feminine ecstasy.
The priest Olaf had finally found started the ceremony. Latin. He didn’t understand a word of it, but the meaningless sounds would give this woman to him, and nothing else mattered.
It went on and on, droning and casting a spell over his mind. His reality constricted and focused in on Josalyn. Her skin, her long lashes, the long plait of her hair that hung down her back. She did her best to hold herself still, but she trembled anyway. No one else would notice, not even the priest directly before them. But, Ulric somehow sensed everything inside her, even how her heart clenched tight and her breath came uncertainly. All because she feared him.
I’ll make it right, Josalyn. Only find some patience with me. I’ve never loved before.
Loved? God’s wounds. Had he really thought that? If so, had she heard him?
She looked up at him. “My lord?”
“You did hear,” he whispered.
“Hear?” She cocked her head. “I only meant the vow.”
“Of course.” Everyone in the chapel was staring at him, especially the priest.
“Father Robert asked if you’d take me as your wife,” Josalyn said softly. “Faithfully and until death. It’s the standard vow.”
He nodded toward the priest. “I do.”
Father Robert repeated the same words toward Lady Josalyn. She hesitated and then looked squarely up at the priest. “I do.”
All the air rushed out of him. Until that moment, he’d not known if she’d actually do it. She didn’t want him. She’d made that clear. She belonged to him now, but he’d still have to win her over.
After a few amens, people crossed themselves, and it seemed the whole thing had ended. Josalyn turned to him, her eyes filled with what looked like terror. He took her hands in his to steady her.
Just then, the minstrel Trey strummed his lyre. He played a lilting melody, rhythmic and soothing. After a moment, Josalyn’s shoulders lowered, and her lips curled into a smile.
The spell that had swirled around him encompassed them both. Whether magic from the troubadour’s lyre or the simple reality that they’d been joined by a mutual vow, the fear lifted from her brow.
Now he could approach her with no fear she’d retreat. He could kiss her and seal their marriage before the people of her castle. He would, but first, he reached around to the nape of her neck and pulled her braid over her shoulder. He untied the ribbon that held the plait together and then worked his fingers through it. The strands warmed his palms as he untangled them. Her curls made the same aura around her face as they had the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. Shimmering and changing colors, today following the strains of Trey’s music. Impossible, and yet undeniable.
He placed his hands against the sides of her face, one thumb beneath her chin to tip her mouth upward to his. Her lips parted and trembled as he bent to kiss her. This first taste would begin the gentling of her. Too much force and she’d dart away from him like an untamed colt. He paused with a fraction of an inch between them and let her come to him.
She did, closing her eyes before she pressed her mouth to his. Sweet, oh, sweet. She melted like honey into him, her lips fitting against his as if created for this moment. He held himself back, but the effort threatened to snap his connection to reality. He’d come to her already hungry, had felt her small hands on his body, had thought of nothing but bedding her while he’d waited for this day. Still, he couldn’t plunder her the way his body had craved for what felt like eternity.
She sighed and stepped closer to him, inviting his embrace. Never breaking off the kiss, he pulled her into his arms and savored her more deeply. She yielded, soft under his hands, as he drank deeply of her sweetness. He sucked her lower lip between both of his and then stroked it with the tip of his tongue. The gods be praised, she answered with her own tongue, a quick fluttering into his mouth.
A bolt shot through him, like lightning. It blinded him to everything but the woman whose body rested against his. He pulled her against him and ravished her mouth the way he’d dreamed of for days.
Finally, sound penetrated his fevered mind. Laughter. The music had stopped, and the assembled guests chuckled. Some even clapped.
He put Josalyn away from him but bent to whisper into her ear. “We’d best stop ere I embarrass myself.”
She nodded but didn’t speak as her breath came fast and hard against his cheek. Finally, he took her hand and turned to face the crowd. After a moment, a group of chattering women flocked around his new wife and led her away from him. They laughed and even squealed as they left. If English females were anything like the ones from his home, they’d be taking her to prepare her for the wedding bed. He could wait a bit longer for their first joining. If she enjoyed the ritual, so much the better.
Trey approached him with his instrument tucked under one arm. “If I know women, they’ll keep your bride busy for a while before you can go to her.”
“You know about wedding nights, minstrel?”
“I know something about love, and waiting, and when you think you’ll never breathe until you can have your woman.”
“I breathe well enough,” Ulric said.
“Still, you could no doubt use some wine to help you pass the time.”
He glanced around the empty chapel. The other men and the priest would be toasting the marriage. He might as well join them.
“Come along,” Trey said.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You don’t command me.”
“Fine, then.” Trey bowed. “May I please speak with you, my lord? I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say.”
“Well enough.” Ulric gestured toward the doorway, and Trey preceded him into the bailey and toward the main hall. The men would be gathered there while the tower room was occupied by the women who would prepare his wife for the consummation of his marriage. They’d started work there in the morning, and woe to any poor male who dared to trespass.
“It seems to me you have a problem, my lord,” the minstrel said.
“I have my land and manor. I have the wife and helpmeet to secure my place here. What problem could I have?”
“Your wife doesn’t want you,” the man answered. “I’d wager she doesn’t even like you.”
“She needn’t like me or even tolerate me as long as she obeys me.”
“Do you really want to spend your life with her that way?”
In the waning daylight, the flickering of light from the main hall guided them. Inside, the men sat around the fire, drinking and joking. Ulric found a flagon of wine and two goblets and led the minstrel to a corner where they could speak in private.
They sat at a table in shadows, far from the fire. If anyone noticed the presence of the bridegroom, they said nothing. Ulric filled the goblets and then drained his own and put it down on the table with some force. “God’s breath. How long will these women take?”
“Wedding nights require ritual,” Trey answered. “Including making the groom wait.”
“And what’s the purpose of that?”
“Not being a woman, I can only guess, but I imagine it’s meant to impress him with the gravity of the vows he’s taken.”
“Gravity,” Ulric spat. “Priests, gowns, ritual. I’ve gone to war with less preparation than this marriage has taken.”
“If you make this into a war, expect to lose it,” Trey said.
“I don’t lose.”
“You frighten her, my lord. You can force her to obey, but she’ll take no pleasure from the union.” Trey set his own goblet down. “And neither will you.”
“I’ll make her want me.”
“By force?” Trey said. “Won’t work. Accept my help, instead.”
“What could a minstrel do?”
“The lady responds to my song. You saw that for yourself.”
He had. She’d shrunk from Ulric, even after she’d taken the vow to marry him. As soon as this Trey had set fingers to the lyre, she’d opened to him of her own will. That kiss. The taste still lingered on his lips, more potent than any wine.
“I have an elixir,” the minstrel said. “It soothes and excites at the same time.
“How can that be possible?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Speak,” Ulric commanded.
“’Tis your lady wife I’ll be discussing. You may not like what I have to say.”
“If I tell you to speak, you will do it,” he answered.
“The tonic uncoils fear, opening up the person to other emotions. Lust is the most common one.”
“An aphrodisiac?”
“I’ve taken it myself a few times. It’s quite potent.”
“Then, I’m to drug my own wife,” Ulric said.
“Or I’ll do it for you,” the man answered. “You’ll want to apply the salve yourself, though.”
“Elixirs, salves. You’ve probably made the whole thing up.”
Trey reached into the bag that hung from his belt and pulled out a vial. “Here, my lord.”
Ulric took it from him, removed the stopper, and sniffed the liquid. “Cinnamon. No more.”
“There’s some of that, but other herbs as well.”
Ulric handed the vial back to him. “Fakery.”
Trey reclosed the bottle and put it back into his pouch. “As you say. Deflower your wife on your own.”
“I don’t like you, singer.”
“But you need me, don’t you?”
The man was too sure of himself. Either a master at deception or speaking truth. Ulric did have a problem with Lady Josalyn. She was tiny and a virgin. She hated him and feared him. She’d never planned to lie with a man and had no intention of enjoying the marital act.
And here he sat, hard and eager to couple with her. All he’d have to do was show her his cock, and he would terrorize her.
“You’re pondering it,” the minstrel said.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “How, exactly, do your potions work?”
“The elixir tastes good in wine. After a bit, it makes the person drowsy. Happy.” Trey paused, and a smile curled his lips. “Not unlike the first flush of sexual arousal.”
Yes, that might help, if the liquid worked the way this man promised.
“Now, the person drifts into a dream world where they’re reduced to little more than the basic senses,” the man went on. “Taste, hearing, most of all, touch. I’ll be playing and singing all the while.’
“Bawdy songs.”
“Fablaiux airs. Of lusty women and the joys of a cock in a woman’s chamber,” Trey answered. “You’ll kiss your lady and touch her gently.”
Yes, he could do that. An elixir to calm her fears, a musical accompaniment, and his hands softly plying her body.
“Once she’s ready, you’ll use the salve on her nether parts,” Trey said.
“To deaden pain?”
“The opposite, my lord. It creates a pleasant tingle that builds to a fire.” The man leaned toward him. “Your cock will receive a dose when it enters your lady’s queynt.”
“I see.” His cock needed no help. It already throbbed, rock hard and fully erect beneath his tunic. If he could make her feel the same way about wanting him….
“Your mind follows mine, I think,” the minstrel said. “Enough of my potions, and she’ll endure anything to have you inside her.”
“Very well.” Ulric reached for his purse. “How much?”
“Not coin, my lord.”
“Then what?”
“I want the chance to win her from you.”
“Are you mad?” Ulric pulled out his dagger and set it on the table where the bastard would have to look at it. “She’s my wife.”
“And the lady of the castle and all the lands around. She can act the part and still warm my bed,” Trey said. “In short, we can share her.”
“Why do you want her?”
Trey took the flagon and filled both their cups. “You prove my case, my lord.”
Ulric drank some wine and felt it curdle in his belly. “Stop speaking in riddles, minstrel, or I’ll cut your tongue out and you won’t be able to speak at all.”
Trey also drank and then smiled as though he’d already won something. “If you can ask me why I’d want the Lady Josalyn, you have no idea of her value. She’s a pearl beyond all price.”
He hadn’t thought in those terms, but her beauty had paralyzed him the first moment he’d set eyes on her. Her moss green eyes, the way her hair turned to flame in the light, the innocent ripeness of her body. “I know her value.”
“I don’t think you do. You only look at her as an asset with the people and a receptacle for your lust.”
How little the man knew. Yes, he lusted after the woman. What man wouldn’t? And yes, she’d already helped him win over the people of Randmead. But she meant more. So much more he didn’t dare follow the thought. “Take care what you say, troubadour.”
“Her outward loveliness is the least part of her beauty,” Trey said. “There’s also her mind, her spirit, her integrity.”
“I value those things.”
“Would you have even thought of them if I’d said nothing?”
Ulric lifted his cup but then put it back down. “You have no idea what I think of her.”
“She deserves a lover who’ll value her for herself, not just as an object.”
“Why in God’s name would I
agree to share her?” Ulric said.
“For my help tonight, and because you can’t resist a battle,” Trey answered. “Even a battle for a lady’s heart.”
“Courtly love?” he asked.
“’Tis what we troubadours traffic in,” Trey answered. “Other men would do wise to learn some of our tricks.”
How much more satisfying to split the man’s skull than to engage in a lover’s joust for Lady Josalyn’s affections. And yet the minstrel had one thing right. He frightened her, and when her virgin’s body had to accommodate his swollen tool, he would hurt her as well. Perhaps he could use the fool’s help with his wife. He’d not lose the fight, and so much the better to have her love. In truth, his feelings had already softened toward her. How sweet for her to return the gift.
“Agreed.” Ulric finished his wine and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll send to see what’s taking the women so long, and then we’ll introduce my lady wife to the pleasures of the flesh.”
My Lady’s Pleasure: Chapter Three
Anne ordered the women here and there as they made her ready for Josalyn’s first night with Ulric. The Viking. Her husband.
As Anne directed the preparations of the bed itself, another woman brushed her hair. “Now, remember, my lady, to compliment your husband’s cock. Tell him how beautiful it is and how large.”
“Lady Josalyn won’t have a problem there,” Anne piped in. “He’s a big man in all important ways.”
The room filled with bawdy giggles.
“Is he really huge?” one of the women said.
“Ask Anne,” Josalyn answered. “As she seems to know so much about him.”
The woman behind Josalyn dropped her hair. “Anne, you’ve seen him?”
“Not I, but someone in this room has,” Anne said.
The women clustered around her. One clutched her hand. “Tell us, my lady.”
“I’ve had his second-in-command,” another woman said. “He’s an animal between the sheets.”
A young woman, scarcely more than a girl and surely a virgin herself, knelt at her feet. “You must tell us everything that happens tonight. Promise, my lady.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” she answered. “That’s private.”
