Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)
Page 41
Rhys turned to his scowling brothers and said pointedly, “You’ve failed to consider your sister will one day be the Countess of Ellesmere.”
PASSION IN THE BLOOD
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Three sennights later the Montbryce brothers were married to the women they loved in the church their father had commissioned. Mabelle had outdone herself in her efforts to make it a memorable occasion, both for her sons and the local gentry.
“Some people believe you and Robert are twins,” she told him. “You look so alike with your dark hair and blue eyes.”
Baudoin laughed. “Oui, and Caedmon’s presence as the third replica of our father has only added to the delight of those in attendance.”
Mabelle chuckled. Baudoin admired the way his mother had accepted her husband’s illegitimate son and welcomed him into the bosom of their family. He never thought of Caedmon as anything other than his brother.
His mother was still gushing. “Both brides are stunning in their wedding finery. It’s good Carys and Dorianne have become friends.”
He smiled too. “Oui, as soon as they met. Now instead of healer and patient, they will be sisters-by-marriage.”
Mabelle sighed. “It’s unfortunate for both women their fathers aren’t present to see them wed. Rhonwen’s here with Rhys, but it doesn’t bode well that no members of the Giroux family are in attendance, though your father reached out to them by sending messengers. They were refused admittance to Giroux castle.”
Baudoin grasped his mother’s hand in reassurance. “Agneta made the journey from Ruyton with Caedmon and everyone has been delighted to see how their twins, Aidan and Blythe have grown. Now they’re five years old they obviously see themselves as the protectors of their younger siblings, Edwin and baby Ragna.”
Mabelle kissed her son’s hand. “Did you see Caedmon’s face when he and Agneta saw Rhys?”
Baudoin laughed, having heard the tale of Rhodri and Rhys saving Caedmon from drowning when Rhys was a mere lad. “Of course, everyone is taunting me and Robert that it’s now our turn to provide you and Papa with heirs.”
Ram had joined them. He slapped Baudoin on the back when he overheard. “Judging by the lustful looks on your faces when you look at your brides, I doubt it will take long.”
Ram became serious. “Does Caedmon resent that his children can never be Montbryce heirs?”
Baudoin shook his head. “Be assured, Papa, he doesn’t. He’s more than happy with what you have provided for him and his family.”
The guests took their places at table. Trésor and her helpers in the kitchens had prepared a memorable feast to celebrate the event. They dined on roasted goose stuffed with figs, pheasant with boiled leeks, rabbit stew, black bread and of course the trout à la Cuisinière. Those who had room for dessert enjoyed gooseberry tarts and cheese. The wine and ale flowed freely and Ram gave orders for two of the kegs of the Montbryce apple brandy brought from Normandie and kept in the cellars for special occasions to be opened.
“I can’t think of a more special occasion than this,” he quipped as he offered a toast to his sons and their new wives.
“I wish to propose a toast to my sons, Robert and Baudoin, and to their beautiful wives, Dorianne and Carys. Mabelle and I’ve been blessed to have two such proud Normans as our sons. The future of the Montbryce name is in good hands.”
Cheering broke out as everyone raised their goblets to the newlyweds.
Robert stood to respond to the toast. “Milord Earl and Countess of Ellesmere, Comte and Comtesse de Montbryce, I know I speak for my brother as well as myself when I say it was our great good fortune to be born your sons. It’s our awesome responsibility to ensure the continuance of the great name of Montbryce, and again I know I speak for both of us when I say we’ll do our very best in that task.”
He winked at Baudoin. Guffaws echoed through the appreciative crowd.
“But I want to finish by saying it’s been my honor to share this important day of my life with Baudoin. He’s a man to emulate and I’m proud to have him as my brother.”
Baudoin was humbled his older brother would pay him such homage. Mabelle could contain her tears no longer and cried on Ram’s shoulder. Rhys comforted his mother as she too wept.
~~~
Dorianne leaned over and whispered in her husband’s ear. “Carys and I are nervous about what will happen when it comes time for the two of you to take us to bed.”
Robert looked at her strangely. Surely she knew?
Dorianne blushed. “Non, I mean, we’ve heard tales of bawdy revellers forcing newlyweds to join their bodies in public, and we dread the possibility.”
Robert took her hand, and smiled across at Carys, who was nervously biting her lip. “I can assure both of you no such thing will be allowed to happen. Neither of us wants anybody else ogling our wife’s body. We’ll be escorted to our chambers, undressed by our servants, in private, and tucked up in bed together. Then the bishop will give his blessing, and the revellers will leave.”
Baudoin had overheard. “Then we’ll get down to business, in private,” he laughed, rubbing his hands together.
As the festivities drew to a close, Robert and Dorianne were the first to be escorted to their chamber, since he was the eldest son. It was the first time Dorianne had been in Robert’s chamber. A cheerful fire warmed the room. A carved wooden screen had been placed at one end, and she and Margene stepped behind it. The maidservant helped her remove her gown, veil, chemise, shoes and hose. She gasped at the flimsy nightgown Margene carefully fastened around her. But then the maid produced a voluminous bed gown and wrapped Dorianne in it, pulling the belt tight.
“Only for milord’s eyes, in my opinion. Not those who want to ogle,” Margene whispered.
Robert’s friends and brothers were divesting him of his clothing, tossing it here and there, and he eased into a red silk bed robe, cinching it lightly around his waist. Smiling and waving to the cheering and jeering crowd, he strode proudly across the room and climbed into bed beside a blushing Dorianne. She was propped up against a large bolster, having been tucked in by Margene.
The Bishop intoned a brief prayer of blessing and sprinkled the bed with holy water. Then, despite ribald urgings from the guests to Get on with it, Robert pointed to the door with an imperious wave of the hand. He teased his brother with mock humility. “Baudoin, I apologise I’ll be unable to escort you and your lovely bride to your chambers. I’m afraid I’ll be rather busy.”
“Never fear,” Baudoin responded with equal levity. “I’ll manage without your help.”
The last to leave as he ushered the well-wishers out, Ram gave Robert a wink and closed the door. The newlyweds heard the merry voices continuing on to Baudoin’s chambers.
“Alone at last,” Robert quipped to his bride. He slipped off the silk bed robe, lifting his hips to free the fabric from beneath him. He helped her remove the bed robe she wore, then drew her on top of his body. The silk of her nightgown inflamed him as he felt its coolness on his chest and on his already aching shaft. She nestled her head against his neck and nibbled him. He hunched his shoulders and laughed. “I’m ticklish.”
She raised her head, smiled a wicked smile and resumed her nibbling. Her body warmed and he wondered if she was already wet for him. He laughed again and held her away, instantly missing the feel of the cool silk on his sack.
“I love this flimsy frock you wear, but it will have to go,” he said, holding her with one arm and trying to lift the shift from her body.
She raised her arms to help him, stoking the fires of his need as her body was revealed. The logs in the hearth crackled.
“You’re beautiful, Dorianne,” he whispered, pulling her back on top of him.
With her forearms on his chest she raised up to look at him. He flicked his tongue, wanting to lick the twin globes pouting together enticingly between her upper arms, the nipples begging to be suckled. The glow of the fire danced on her skin. She lowered her b
ody and touched her tongue to his. They lapped at each other lovingly. He licked her lips, the corners of her mouth, then increased the pressure of his kiss as his need and his arousal grew. He explored the warmth of her mouth, her teeth, tasting apple brandy. She sucked rhythmically on his tongue. Keeping their mouths joined he rolled her off his body and on to the bed beside him.
She broke away, her expression uncertain. “I’m not sure—”
Robert’s heart thudded. She had never touched his manhood. He took her hand and placed it on his shaft. “Move your hand on me,” he whispered, showing her how.
Taking her other hand he placed it on his sack. “Like this. Pull up and squeeze. Gently.”
She did as he showed her and he exhaled loudly. “That feels good.”
She arched her back, thrusting her breasts upwards. “I’m light headed,” she rasped.
Blood is rushing to my head too!
His mouth found a nipple and suckled. She hummed, deep in the back of her throat, and pressed her belly against his erection. Her eyes widened and her breath caught.
“You’re getting bigger,” she whispered.
“Don’t be afraid, I will fit. I’ll make you ready. There’ll be but a moment’s pain and then—”
He could not speak. He loved this woman so deeply the words foretelling the ultimate passion he hoped they would share in a few minutes were too much to squeeze out of his dry throat. He grasped the back of her warm neck and buried his face in her soft hair. His passion seemed to arouse her.
“I’m yours to do with as you will, Robert,” she whispered, her eyes bright.
Remembered visions of his hands kneading her breasts glistening with fragrant oil and his mouth on her sex carried him to greater heights. He reached to touch her female nub. He covered her scream with his mouth, her wetness flooding his fingers. She convulsed as release shuddered through her.
He knelt between her legs as she opened for him. “I can’t wait any longer, Dorianne. I need to be inside you now.”
“I’m ready,” she murmured lovingly, and his soaring heart knew she was.
He was a big man and hoped the pain would not be too great. He slid his whole length into her and felt the barrier tear. The warmth of her maiden’s blood mingled with her woman’s juices flooded over him like a tidal wave. He was a drowning man who did not want to be rescued. He took his weight on his elbows and crushed her breasts to his chest. She didn’t cry out.
“Am I hurting you?” he rasped as he pounded into her. “I can’t stop.”
She shook her head, her eyes glazed. “I relish it, Robert. It’s my rite of passage into womanhood.”
He sent a prayer of thanks heavenward he had been gifted with this remarkable young woman as she surrendered her body to his possession, her muscles pulsating against his shaft. Moments later the white heat surged from his body into hers and his release engulfed him.
~~~
Baudoin did not spill on the sheets of his matrimonial bed. As promised, he pumped his seed as far inside his mystically beautiful wife as he could, and relished her obvious enjoyment of his possession of her. There would be difficulties, but she was his now and nothing could part them.
~~~
Robert and Dorianne left for Normandie two days later. Hugh met them at Montbryce Castle, and brought Robert up to date on the political situation which had predictably deteriorated into two distinct camps. Curthose was openly planning an invasion of England. Robert had brought troops from Ellesmere to strengthen his garrison and made preparations to defend the castle against attack by Curthose supporters if it came. He half expected the Duke himself to come to persuade him to fight on his side, and was relieved when that did not happen. Given the danger of venturing beyond the castle environs, he and Dorianne spent most of their time together, enjoying the exhilarating passion they shared.
PASSION IN THE BLOOD
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In the month of July in the year of Our Lord One Thousand One Hundred and One, Curthose landed at Portsmouth with an invading army. Ram and Mabelle were relieved Robert would not be among the Norman knights accompanying Curthose, but anxious because Baudoin and Caedmon had gone south to fight for Henry. Mabelle did what she could to cheer Carys.
After many long, tense days, it was Baudoin who returned home with good news. “You were correct, Papa, in your assessment that the supporters of William Rufus would in turn support Henry. So did the Church.”
Ram exhaled loudly and tightened his arm around Mabelle’s waist. “It’s over then? Caedmon is safe also?”
Baudoin’s squire helped Carys remove his armor, and once that was accomplished, he sat down wearily, drawing Carys on to his lap. “Oui, he’s gone straight home to Ruyton. But it’s a stalemate, with Henry keeping England and Curthose getting a pension of Two Thousand Pounds per annum. The treaty calls for an amnesty.”
Ram shook his head and slumped into a chair, drawing Mabelle onto his lap. “But you know Henry will seek revenge on anyone who has supported Curthose. Thank God we seem to have made the right decision.”
Mabelle spoke for the first time. “A stalemate won’t ease tensions in Normandie. It has only put things off. We still serve two masters. It’s untenable. Curthose will be incensed with the nobles who didn’t support him, in particular his former allies.”
“Like the Montbryces.” Baudoin voiced what all knew in their hearts. “He probably believes that if he could have shown he had the support of Robert’s men from Normandie and ours in England the outcome might have been different. No doubt he will spread his rancor among disgruntled supporters.”
~~~
Baudoin’s words proved prophetic. Over the next two years Normandie became a more dangerous place. Montbryce was an armed camp. Travel was difficult and only accomplished with a large contingent of knights and men-at-arms.
Dorianne and Robert welcomed two daughters into the world, Catherine and Marguerite. Ram and Mabelle travelled to Normandie and doted on their grandchildren.
Carys bore two sons, Gallien and Etienne. Though Robert said nothing, rejoicing with his brother, Mabelle sensed his longing for a son. All recognized the importance of an heir.
Mabelle watched helplessly as the stress of the political situation took a toll on Ram. Though no longer young, he had weathered the years well and remained a strong virile man, but now he seemed to age visibly before her eyes. His hair had turned grey, his blue eyes were guarded and full of worry. He was anxious for Robert and Dorianne, and his brothers in Normandie, amid the growing political uncertainty. No one doubted there would be another confrontation between the sons of the Conqueror.
Ram began to suffer chest pains he tried hard to conceal, but when Mabelle mentioned it he shrugged them off. “It’s something I ate,” he would say. “I am nervous with all this worry.”
A day after marking three score and two years, Rambaud, Comte de Montbryce, First Earl of Ellesmere, suffered an apoplectic attack in his sleep while on a visit to Normandie. He never woke and died in his wife’s arms. She keened his name, unable to believe this man she had loved was dead. The crux of her life for nigh on forty years, he had become one of the most powerful and wealthiest nobles in England and Normandie, known as a firm but fair man, a negotiator first and warrior second. But above all else he had been her magnificent lover.
King Henry, son of the Conqueror for whom Ram had sacrificed much, sent his condolences. No word came from Curthose.
Robert de Montbryce became Comte de Montbryce, de Belisle, d’Alensonne and de Domfort, inheriting, as the eldest surviving son, his parents’ lands in Normandie. Baudoin became the Second Earl of Ellesmere.
Baudoin, Rhoni and Caedmon came from England. Mabelle was at least consoled Ram had died in his beloved Normandie and she buried him, as she had promised long ago, in the family crypt in Montbryce Castle. The coffin was placed in a tomb next to those of Ram’s mother and father.
Mabelle never returned to England, preferring to live out he
r final days at Montbryce with Robert and Dorianne who were appreciative of her presence in their lives.
PASSION IN THE BLOOD
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The observance of Epiphany in the year of Our Lord One Thousand One Hundred and Four was a subdued affair at Montbryce, as was the Yuletide that preceded it. A veil of sadness for the loss of Rambaud de Montbryce hung over the castle. Mabelle often remarked it reminded her of when Ram’s father had died while his three sons were away fighting at Hastings.
In the midst of this mourning, Pierre de Giroux rode into the environs of Montbryce Castle alone and was immediately challenged by the guard.
He threw back his shoulders and announced, “I am Pierre de Giroux, brother to the Comtesse de Montbryce. I’m here to see my sister.”
He was escorted into the courtyard where a stable boy came to take his horse as he dismounted. Tristan Bonhomme strode out to greet him. The escort identified him to the steward.
Tristan bowed. “Welcome, young knight. Is the Comtesse expecting you?”
Pierre removed his gloves and slapped them against his palm. “Non, but she’ll be happy to see me. It’s taken me too long to bring our family’s condolences for the Comte’s bereavement. And I hear I have nieces I’ve never met.”
Bonhomme took him to the Map Room and went in search of his lord and lady. Robert was surprised when Bonhomme told him who awaited them. “You’re sure of the name?” he asked.
Dorianne leapt to her feet, casting aside her sewing. “Oh, Robert, has Pierre at long last convinced my father to put his hatred behind him? I pray for it daily.”
Robert braced his legs. “Dorianne, let’s not forget the pain and suffering Pierre inflicted on you and that he attempted to kill me. We have two children and he has never made any effort to meet them.”
His wife put her arms around his neck. “He was young and under my father’s thumb. Things have changed. Why else would he come here?”