Thomas crossed his legs for a third time, then mopped the perspiration from his brow. Warm for this late in the season, especially here in the cold north. He wet his lips—and tasted Alicia’s honey mouth once again in his imagination. The troublesome ache increased.
“Mayhap you have bridegroom jitters,” his little sister observed as she waited for his next move. “You have been quiet since supper, and itchy as a bed of nettles. Hoy day! Now I know what I shall give you for a wedding present.”
Her brother shot her a stern look. “Not a bed full of nettles, you little gadfly, or I will apply them to your backside.”
Mary wrinkled her nose. “You would not dare. Besides, you would have to catch me first, and methinks you will be busy elsewhere.”
The picture of Alicia lying naked in his huge bed flashed across his mind. He could practically touch her lush breasts with her pink nipples rising to meet his fingers. He mopped his brow with his sleeve. He desperately desired to take a long walk. He moved his king into an absurd position.
Like a duck capturing a water bug, Mary attacked his castle with her queen. “Check, Tom! Try to escape my clutches now.”
He imagined Alicia’s delicate hands, stroking his bare chest. Her long supple fingers coaxing his—He moved an inoffensive pawn in a haphazard fashion. He had a pressing need for some vigorous exercise.
“Checkmate!” Mary surrounded his king with her queen, bishop and knight “I have won, and you owe me—”
Thomas stood up so quickly that he nearly upset the board. “I will pay your forfeit, whatever it is, but not now.” He snapped his fingers to the dogs. “Come, gentlemen and lady. You need a run. Andrew!” he shouted across the hall.
His squire looked up from his game of dice with Stokes and the chaplain. “My lord?”
“Stir your stumps, knave. Saddle our horses!”
Andrew gaped at his master. The boy looked like a fashionably dressed trout. “Now, my lord? The moon has already risen.”
Thomas strode across the flagstones of the hall toward his squire. “Good! Then we will be able to see where we are going.”
Not waiting to hear his squire’s further protests, he hurried out to the courtyard. As he pulled on his leather gloves, he inhaled the cool night air. A faint scent of woodsmoke and hay tickled his nostrils. The harvest hinted its arrival. He tried to remember what he had been doing last year at this time, but all he could think about was what he was going to be doing two nights hence.
Much to Andrew’s vocal disgust, Thomas rode them hard over the heather-tipped moor. The moon was high overhead by the time the exhausted horses, dogs and men returned to Wolf Hall. Thomas fell into bed. Surrounded by his beloved dogs, he fell instantly asleep with his boots still on his feet.
The next morning, he roused his squire, huntsmen and grooms for a hunt to provide game for the feast. He urged Silver Charm to a full gallop in his effort to escape the black fear that loomed larger as each brief hour slipped by. He did not see his bride until they met at supper. In less than a day, she would share this meal—and his bed—as his wife. The expectation of his husbandly duties turned his stomach into a lump of ice. He sent a silent prayer of thanksgiving that Isabel had chosen to take her supper in her chambers. One less woman to torment him.
Alicia watched him push his pigeon pie around their trencher with his eating knife. “The food does not please you, my lord?” she asked.
“‘Tis good,” he muttered, not daring to look at her. Every time he did, her beauty took his breath away.
She cocked an eyebrow. “I am sure that Georgie agrees with you since he has gobbled down most of yours. I am glad to see that my recipe finds favor with someone in this household.”
Thomas stabbed a large chunk of the pastry, then shoved the whole thing into his mouth. “Good.” He spoke through the crumbs, though he could barely taste the juicy morsel.
She inclined her head in a regal manner. “My thanks for your compliment, my lord.”
He waited to hear her laugh as she had often done in the past, but instead, she turned away from him, and engaged Mary in a conversation concerning ribbons and lace. I repulse her, he thought. He had trouble swallowing the meat, and drank a deep draught of wine to ease the food on its downward path.
“Wine, sweet lady?” he asked, offering the goblet to her.
She started to reach for it, then dropped her hand to her lap. “Nay. I thank you.” She did not look at him, but stared at some distant part of the hall.
Thomas ground his teeth. How could he have let himself attack her like that? More to the point, how could he make amends for his beastly behavior?
After supper, he suggested a stroll around the garden where he planned to beg her forgiveness.
Her lips trembled, then she shook her head. “Nay, my lord. I am quite weary from the wedding preparations. By your leave, I will go to bed now, so to be fresh for…for the ceremony in the m-morning.”
Without waiting for his permission, she dropped him a formal curtsy, then all but fled his presence. He stared after her, missing the sunny smiles and gentle teasing that she had favored him with in the days gone by. He strode out of the hall, followed by the dogs.
Andrew tagged behind him. “My lord? Pray, a word with you.” He broke into a run to keep up with his master.
Thomas did not slacken his pace. “What now, clodpate?” he said out of the side of his mouth.
The squire circled around him, blocking his way. “Methinks you are in sore need of some wise counsel.”
Halting, he curled his lip. “I presume you mean from yourself, jackanapes.”
The boy grinned. “I am at your service, my lord.”
Thomas pointed to the garden door. “Out there, before you utter one more word.” He had a very good idea of the nature of Andrew’s advice, and he did not want the whole population of the castle to overhear it.
The youth darted ahead of his master and undid the latch. When the squire opened the door, the terrier dashed out first, running down the path to the stone bench in the far arbor. Vixen followed at a more sedate pace. Thomas studied her thick middle. He calculated that the pups would come any day now. He closed his eyes. Not tomorrow, he prayed.
Then he glowered at Andrew. “Well?”
Far from being cowed by his master’s look, the stripling grinned at him. “What finery do you intend to wear for the ceremony?”
Thomas blinked. In all the activity of the past two days, he had given no thought to his clothes. He rarely did. “I have no need of frippery. I am still in mourning for my father and brothers.”
Andrew shook his head. “Nay, ‘twill never do. You have asked all the shire to attend your wedding, you must shine like the morning sun.”
He bared his teeth. “I am no peacock like you. Feathers and furs look better on their proper owners.”
His squire ignored his master’s pointed remark. “Methinks your red satin surcoat will fit the occasion. We can add a gold chain or two, as well as your cream silk shirt, and the red and gold cape with the high-standing collar.”
Thomas stared at Andrew as if the lad had grown a set of horns through his gray velvet bonnet. “Crows and daws, boy, I am not entertaining royalty—” He stopped abruptly, when he realized that he was about to do exactly that. Not only would royalty be present tomorrow, but he was marrying her. Thomas coughed. “Very well, the red it is, but I will still wear the black armband.”
Andrew’s brown eyes widened with surprise. The expression on his face gave Thomas a measure of satisfaction. The boy was getting much too full of himself these days. He needed to be overbalanced on occasion.
“You will cut the finest figure there, my lord,” he said.
Thomas sighed. “Nay, I will be but a shadow to my lady wife.”
Unfortunately, the squire’s sharp hearing caught what he had said. “Aye, speaking of Mistress Alicia—” he began.
Thomas turned so that he towered over his slim squire. “If you speak of m
y lady, mind your rattling tongue, knave.”
Andrew swallowed, and took a step backward. A white rosebush with especially long thorns snagged his thin woolen tights. He cursed under his breath as he disentangled himself. “I speak with all due respect, my lord. After all, the lady will become my mistress tomorrow.”
Thomas ground his teeth. “Aye, that she will.” Even though the evening was warm, his hands grew cold.
The youth gave his master a shrewd look. “And she will become your bedfellow tomorrow night. Have you given much thought to that?”
He was tempted to tell the little maltworm to mind his own business, but prudence stopped him. His squire had often boasted of his own wide experience in the matters of bedsport. Perhaps the boy could be of some help. At any rate, it was no use to pretend that the idea of making love did not scare the wits out of Thomas. Andrew read his master like a book.
He allowed his shoulders to slump. “Aye, I have thought of it. Indeed, it plagues me hourly.”
Andrew nodded. “So I suspected. Do you know if Mistress Alicia is a virgin?”
He nearly struck the insolent pup. “Of course she is!”
The squire held up his hands, palms out “I crave your pardon, my lord. ‘Twas a base question from a twittering fool.”
“Humph.”
“My point is that she will be frightened. More than yourself.”
Thomas flashed him an evil glare.
Unperturbed, Andrew warmed to his topic. “Take heart. She probably thinks you have plucked many a young flower in your time.”
Thomas made a fist. “Take heed, boy, lest you burn yourself by your heat.”
Andrew sat on the bench. Tavie leapt up into his lap, and curled himself into a fur ball. The boy rubbed the dog behind his ears. Tavie closed his eyes with contentment. “Your lady will expect you to lead her down the pathways of love.”
Thomas sank down beside his squire. He hung his head. “Aye, you have hit the nut and core of my problem.”
“At least Mistress Alicia likes you. ‘Tis one point in your favor.”
Thomas recalled her coolness at supper. The memory of his lustful groping in the library sickened him. She might have liked him—at first, but not now. “Go on.”
“Do you love her?”
Thomas snapped his head up. The boy had voiced the truth that had kept Thomas wakeful night after night since Alicia’s arrival. He licked his cracked lips. His hands began to sweat.
Andrew cocked his head. “I perceive that you do. You must win her heart, as well as her hand. Then you will have a marriage made in heaven.”
Thomas sighed down to his toes. Had he already lost his chance with Alicia? “Tell me how, soothsayer.”
The squire leaned closer to his master. “Take her gently. Do not rush things.”
He digested this piece of wisdom, and tried to understand it. “Explain!”
Andrew reddened about the ears. “You will be tempted to take her the moment you are alone together.”
Thomas stared openmouthed at him.
The boy cocked an eyebrow. “Tell me that you have not imagined what she looks like without her shift on.”
Thomas recalled his conduct in the library, and how close he had come to doing just that. “Aye, I confess that I have. ‘Tis a base instinct, and not respectful of a virtuous lady.”
Andrew puffed out his cheeks before replying. “Do not berate yourself. ’Tis a natural thing for a man to do. But, my lord, you cannot tear her clothes off of her immediately.”
“I had not planned to do so,” Thomas remarked. He tried not to think of Alicia, standing naked amid the tatters of her gown.
The squire chuckled softly. “A great many things happen in bed that you may not plan. But more to the point, you must be gentle, unhurried and, most particularly, very understanding when she cries.”
Thomas clenched his jaw. “I will not do anything to make her cry. Do you think I am a hard-hearted villain?”
Andrew gazed up at the gathering twilight before he answered. “Mark me, my lord. Your lady will cry—at least, a little bit. After all, you will pierce her maidenhead with your shaft, and I understand that it hurts. Expect a few tears and some blood.”
Thomas shuddered at the thought of spilling sweet Alicia’s blood. “Then I will not do it.”
Andrew placed his hand on his master’s shoulder. “You must. ‘Tis your duty, and your right, as her husband. Be of good cheer. ‘Twill be over in the twink of an eye. If you are gentle and loving, she will forget all about it before morning.”
He stood up. “You have given me much cold comfort, squire.”
Andrew merely laughed at his rebuke. “Treat your wife with all your love, my lord, and the rest will fall into place. You will see anon.”
His master grimaced. “I feel like I am going into battle with one arm tied behind my back—and naked to boot.”
The scamp’s eyes twinkled. “Start with naked, my lord.”
The night watchman on the battlements called the hour of two in the morning. Thomas lay on his back, and stared at the dark canopy overhead. He had not slept a wink since he had blown out the candle four hours ago. With a sigh of resignation, he pulled himself into a sitting position and rested his back against the carved headboard. Tavie and Vixen inched closer to him, one on each side. At the foot of the bed, Georgie slept, undisturbed by his master’s anxiety.
Thomas stroked Vixen. “‘Tis a rough night. Alicia will be as close to me as you are now. And she will expect me to perform my duty toward her.” He ran his fingers through his tangled hair. “God shield me! How can I do that to her, and not hurt her?”
Vixen thumped her tail against the coverlet several times, then licked his hand. He smiled down at her. “You have been my only lady until now, Vixen. What do I know of women? Isabel?” He grimaced. “Lewd minx! She cannot claim one womanly virtue as her own. And Mary? My little sister is as sweet as springtime, as light as a breeze—and will drive her husband to drinking strong ale within an hour of their wedding. On the other hand, Alicia is like one of God’s own blessed angels.” He stared at the dagger that lay on his chest. The moonlight made the jewels on the handle glow with an unearthly fire. “She faces the world with nothing but her own courage as her shield. Her royal father led his army into battle at the age of eighteen. By my troth, I believe that Alicia could do the same. She is a woman without peer. Aye, there’s the rub! How can I make a worthy husband for such a great lady? Do I dare profane a princess with my body’s lustful desires?”
He held his head in his hands. “God save me, but I do ache for her!”
Bored with the subject, Tavie went back to sleep. Vixen followed suit. Surrounded by his snoring friends, Thomas watched the moon’s light creep across the floor, until it faded away hours later in the pearl gray dawn.
He had still not resolved his dilemma when Andrew came to dress him for his wedding.
The squire grinned as he shook out the red surcoat. “I see that you spent last night in prayerful contemplation of your nuptial day, my lord.” He lowered his voice. “Your eyes are bloodshot.”
Chapter Thirteen
Alicia did not expect to fall asleep on the eve of her wedding, but sometime after the midwatch she did. The muffled sounds of horses stomping on the cobbles, and their drivers swearing woke her in the predawn. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she got out of her great bed, and padded over to the window. At first she thought that the noise must be some of the guests, who had arrived very early for the festivities. Then she heard Isabel’s shrill voice above the general din.
“Take care, you shambling bear! ‘Tis a piece of Venetian glass that you carry—not a load of firewood.”
Alicia peeked out the window. Several of the castle’s lackeys loaded a large wagon with boxes, trunks and even some pieces of furniture. Standing on the bottom step of the entranceway, Meg held aloft a lighted torch. Beside her, Isabel alternately chided and cajoled the men as they carried her enormous am
ount of baggage out of Wolf Hall.
I wonder if Thomas knows what she is taking. Alicia decided not to worry if a few pieces of the silver turned up missing. What did a cup or a spoon matter if it meant that she would never see Thomas’s sister-in-law again?
“Make haste! You are nothing but slugs and worms! I wish to be gone before daylight.”
Alicia breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heavens Isabel did not intend to stay for the wedding. The ceremony would be trying enough without her angry face and wasp’s tongue to curdle the festivities. Over the rim of the horizon, the sun’s rays painted the sky with a wash of pink and peach colors. Not a cloud in sight. It would be a beautiful morning to start a marriage.
Sounds of heightened activity in the hallway seeped under the bedchamber door, scattering Alicia’s serenity. When someone knocked, she clutched her nightshift tighter around her body. It couldn’t already be time to dress?
“Come in!” Her voice caught in her throat.
Wreathed in smiles, Audrey stepped inside. “God give you a blessed morning, mistress. I have brought your bath.”
Alicia blinked with surprise. She did not recall asking for a bath, and certainly not one this early in the morning before the day’s work had begun.
The maid giggled. “Did you forget ‘tis your wedding day?”
Alicia shook her head. “Nay, ‘tis been on my mind all night, but—” Then she remembered that Katherine had explained the ritual bath to her. She blushed. The maid must think that she was reared by gypsies. “Your pardon, good Audrey. My mind has gone quite giddy this morning.”
The girl giggled again as she opened the door wider. In the hall, Alicia saw Stokes at the head of a long procession of maids and men from the kitchens. Each one bore two steaming pails of water. Stokes himself staggered in with a large wooden tub.
Alicia grabbed her night robe, and held it in front of her as the servants invaded her chambers. The steward put the tub before the fireplace, then he knelt to stir up the embers, and to add fresh wood to the new flames.
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