Box Set - Knights of Passion (7 Novels)
Page 103
“I understand.” He massaged her breast and teased her nipple through her wool cotehardie, and she moaned. “As I shared thy consternation, but not so anymore. And once we art unpacked in our new home, and thy wounds art healed to my appeasement, my first order of business is to consummate our nuptials, as I burn for thee.”
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The sun rested low on the horizon, when the procession approached the north gates of Chichester Castle. A wide moat surrounded the square structure, which boasted crenellation and balistraria fortifications about the exterior curtain wall and towers, along with a spectacular view of the coastline. A narrow bridge accommodated only a wagon or two horsemen riding side by side, to negotiate the expanse, which attached to an outer causeway.
With a tight grip on his sword, Arucard steered right and crossed the first drawbridge, which led to the main gatehouse and an impressive barbican marked by a vaulted ceiling filled with murder-holes and three wooden portcullises. But an overwhelming stench left him gagging, and he searched for and discovered the source, an uncovered garderobe in dire need of cleaning, which he would have flushed before posting soldiers in the gatehouse.
The second drawbridge presented a hazard, as damaged timbers rendered the traverse unstable in places, but the group successfully navigated to the twin-towered, machicolated inner gatehouse, which connected to the lesser curtain wall. The strategic entry opened to a large courtyard, as the castle had no keep, and all manner of refuse littered the yard.
“What a bit of good fortune.” He dismounted his destrier and then handed Isolde to the ground. “It appears our new home is in excellent condition.”
“Art thou blind?” With a wide-eyed gaze of incredulity, she scoffed. “This place is a filthy tragedy of the worst sort. Just look at that pile of trash, as it must be at least as tall as thee, and I insist thou burn it, at once. Lord knows how many little creatures dwell thither, and I shudder to think of what I may find in the private rooms.”
“Demetrius, organize a search of the entire premises.” Arucard signaled his brothers. “And if thou would—”
“Prithee, have Morgan stock the kitchen with wood and start a fire, as Margery and I must prepare thy supper.” His wife ticked off an imaginary list on her fingers. “I need Aristide to assemble some men to convey the food stores to the undercroft, provided we have an undercroft, and Geoffrey must locate my cleaning supplies. And if thou would bear our personal trunks to our chamber, which I have yet to establish, I shall make some attempt to settle our lodging.”
Palpable silence fell on the group, as his fellow Nautionnier knights cast him a harsh stare, and Arucard tugged on the collar of his tunic. How he responded to his wife’s request could either reinforce or destroy his authority, so he pondered the situation and composed a polite but unmistakable reprove.
“Isolde, I command His Majesty’s servants.” Checking his tone, as he had no wish to frighten her, he folded his arms. “Thy entreaties must perforce yield to mine.”
“Dost thou wish to eat?” She tapped her foot in an impatient rhythm. “Dost thou wish to bathe? Dost thou wish to sleep in a warm, comfortable bed? Mayhap thou would prefer the stables.”
At the thought, he swallowed hard, stretched to full height, and glared at the Brethren. “Thou didst hear the lady. Wherefore dost thou linger?” After a few grumbles in protest, the knights hurried about their tasks, and then he winked at his wife and smiled.
“Well, I would ask the same of thee.” Narrowing her stare, she lifted her chin, and he adored her fiery spirit. “Else I am certain thy stallion would love to share its stall with thee.”
“Banishing me from our marital bed?” In an instant, he swooped, flung her over his shoulder, and smacked her bottom. “I think not.”
“Oh, Arucard.” Pounding his back with her fists, she attempted to wriggle free. “Put me down.”
“Apologize.”
“Nay.”
“Apologize.”
“Nay.”
“Then thou wilt spend the eventide thus, and I quite enjoy the arrangement.” To impress upon her the seriousness of his proclamation, he hefted her trunk and carried her into the living areas, which lined the interior curtain wall. “It appears I have found the great hall.”
“And it is dirty.” Isolde shifted and propped herself on her elbows. “The dais is serviceable, but the tables and chairs art in disarray, so thou should release me to be about my work. And I should remind Margery to inspect the chimney before lighting a blaze, as she could fill the castle with smoke.”
“I am sure Margery can survive without thee, and she seems competent enough.” Arucard spied a narrow passage, which led to a stairway, and he ascended to the second floor, whither he discovered a dusty solar and what he suspected were the main accommodations. “Home, at last, my lady.”
“And thither is much to be done, if we art to retire after supper.” Again, she squirmed, and he tightened his hold. “Pray, let me go.”
“What hast thou to say?” He pinched her round arse, and she shrieked.
“Now.” In response, she attempted to kick free.
“Wrong answer, my lady.” In play, he rotated in circles, until she begged him to stop. “Art thou prepared to offer thy words of regret?”
“Art thou truly annoyed?” she asked in a small voice, and he altered his grasp, letting her slide down the front of him, but her feet dangled as he hugged her about the waist. “I am sorry if I disappointed thee.”
“On the contrary, thou hast neither annoyed nor disappointed me.” Resting forehead to forehead, he sighed. “But thou must remember thy station and mine, else I cannot maintain discipline, as the men will not respect me.”
“I had not thought of that.” To his delight, she brushed her lips to his and wrapped her arms about his neck. “The bedframe and ropes art rotted. We should move ours hither; else we may end up on the floor. And I should sweep and scrub everything.”
“Isolde, I would caution thee to take care of thy person, as I would prefer thy injuries heal that we might consummate our vows.” Given the depth of their regard, which had grown in so short a space of time, he anticipated a magical night. “Or would thou delay the singular event?”
“Oh, no.” And now she favored him with her shy smile, which never failed to stir his blood. “But I would do my duty as chatelaine.”
“Precisely.” He rocked on his heels. “Thou art no scullion, and we have servants. Thou dost need only to direct them.”
“But I have strict standards, sir. As thou dost well know.” Then, to his surprise, she kissed him, his ears rang, his blood stirred, and the one-eyed stallion reared its head. Some day soon, he promised himself the simple expression of affection would no longer startle him, but at that moment she captivated him.
“Margery bade me clean the fireplace and—” Turning to the side, Pellier cleared his throat. “Beg thy pardon, Sir Arucard. Should I come back anon?”
“Nay.” To his chagrin, Arucard set his bride on the floor. “Lady Isolde and I were just assessing our rooms.”
“That is precisely what I thought.” Pellier’s sly smile declared otherwise, and Arucard ignored his marshalsea. “Permit me to build a fire, and thou may continue inspecting the fertile surroundings and, perchance, spark another blaze.”
“Very funny.” Arucard grimaced.
“My lord, look.” Aglow with joy, and attempting to hide her charming pink cheeks, his wife jumped and pointed to the rear wall. “We have glazed windows. Is that not wonderful?”
“I suppose.” He shrugged. “Does it make thee happy?”
“Yea.” As she admired the glass inserts, she trailed her finger along the casement. “I should wash them, but they art in fine form, and we will be grateful for them when winter arrives.”
“Art thou always so practical?” Baring his teeth, Arucard distracted his shy bride, as Pellier waggled his brows and thrust his hips in a crude gesture. “And what lovely tapestries hang in the solar.”
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“Indeed, they art exquisite and very heavy, which will shield us from the cold. Mayhap thou could help me take them down, as I must beat them.” How quickly she changed purpose, when all Arucard could think of was what would eventually occur in the inner chamber. “Canst thou unfasten the frame?”
“Of course.” As she perched on tiptoes, he reached above her and unhooked the mount. Then he rolled the heavy wall hanging and set it on the table in the solar. “I suppose thou would clean the other two, as well?”
“Yea, as I would not unpack our belongings until everything is scrubbed.” With Isolde’s supervision, he retrieved the other coverings. “If thou would carry the tapestries into the courtyard, I will ask Anne to beat them, if that will satisfy thee.”
“It will.” When Pellier snickered, Arucard groaned. “But I would ask thee to take care of thy person, as thou art precious to me.”
In the hall, Isolde spun about and faced him, and her hopeful expression touched him beyond words. “Am I?”
“Aye.” Adjusting the load on his shoulder, he eased an arm about her waist and drew her near. “I understand it not, as our situation is still quite new to me, but I speak the truth.”
“No one has ever manifested such sentiments for me, and I treasure thy declaration.” Given her tear-filled gaze, he doubted her not, and in silence he cursed her father for the cruelty she suffered at his hands. “My lord, thou art precious to me, too. And like thee, I am confused in relation to my feelings, but do not let that diminish the depth of my regard for thee.”
A small army of servants scurried about, and with great reluctance he released his bride. Together, they strolled into the courtyard; whither Aristide had set fire to several piles of trash, per Isolde’s request.
“Brother, we found a postern gate on the south wall.” Geoffrey wiped his brow. “The drawbridge ropes art in disrepair, so we must replace them, and we could use thy assistance.”
“Thither I will be, anon.” Arucard glanced at his wife. “Whither shall I deposit the tapestries?”
“In the corner.” She pointed. “I shall ask Anne to erect temporary frames, so we can beat the fabrics free of dust and dirt.”
“All right.” He did as she bade and then caught her chin. “Remember what I said. Thou art no scullery maid. Thou art the lady of the castle, and I would have thee behave as such, if for no other reason than to preserve thy health, which is dear to me.”
“Aye, my lord.” Grinning, she sketched a half-curtsey.
And so he ventured to the battlements, to aid his men as they reinforced the barbican and the postern gate. With new twine in place, the rear bridge was raised to protect against a surprise assault. Then he assisted Morgan, as the soldiers cleared the garrison quarters, so the maids could sweep and wash. Next, he labored in the stable, as drains were cleared, fresh straw was spread in the stalls, and horses were settled.
The castle drew water from three wells conveniently situated near the kitchen, the stable, and the garrison. Twice, as Arucard worked, he caught Isolde bearing a shoulder yoke, and he had but to arch a brow, and she surrendered the task to a nearby servant. At last, the primary living spaces had been rendered fit for occupation, and it was late when he retired to his private accommodation.
After a quick bath, he pulled on clean braies and a robe. In the solar Isolde set out their meal of a savory roasted bream with darioles and her signature fresh herb bread. At one moment while they dined in quiet, as they were too exhausted to share conversation, he discovered she dozed with her chin propped in her palm, and he could not help but laugh. So he lifted her into his lap, held her close when she stirred, and fed her a good portion.
“My lord, I fear I am too tired to eat.” As proof of her claim, she yawned, and he carried her to their bed.
In mere seconds, he doffed his robe, blew out the candles, stoked the blaze in the earth, and slid between the covers. As always, his wife shifted and draped herself alongside him. He slipped his arm beneath her, and she nestled ever closer, with her head resting on his shoulder. In the flickering light from the fire in the hearth, he studied her pert nose, apple cheeks, and heart-shaped face, so elegant in repose.
She manifested an odd combination; delicate yet strong, shy yet confident, and reserved yet bold. And with each passing day, he found her far more fascinating and difficult to resist. How strange it was that what he once had viewed as a curse he now considered a blessing, and he kissed her forehead. “Soon, Isolde, thou wilt be mine.”
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“My lord, if thou dost wish to dine, thou must first clean thy muddy boots, hands, and face.” Five days after arriving at Chichester Castle, Isolde stood guard at the main entry to the great hall, clutched a large wooden spoon, assumed a formidable posture, and folded her arms. “Now.”
“My lady, the men have labored for hours, clearing and restocking the undercroft, at thy behest.” Arucard adopted an equally imposing stance, and she gulped but did not falter. “And we art hungry. Step aside, so we may eat.”
“Not until thou dost doff thy shoes.” Somehow, she had to make him understand her perspective, so she tapped her foot and held firm in the righteousness of her cause. “As the women have wasted valuable time picking up after thy men, again and again. Wherefore should we tarry, when thy knights will destroy what we have worked so hard to achieve?”
“Arucard, wilt thou remind thy lady of her place?” With a narrow stare, Demetrius rested fists to hips. “As my belly grumbles, and I grow impatient.”
“Mayhap a good spanking will soften her mood.” When Aristide reached for her, she rapped his knuckles with the spoon. “Ouch.”
“If thou dost try it, thou should sleep with one eye open, good sir.” Not for a minute did the knight frighten her, as her husband would never let anyone hurt her. “And what I ask is no great burden, given the fare the cook hath prepared. What say thee to cameline meat brewets, to which Sir Demetrius is partial, hot flampoyntes, loach in green sauce, stewed beef, and capon crisps? We also have fresh herb bread, jellies, and a lovely apple muse. And for Sir Arucard, I made my special blancmange. Such a pity, that it should go to waste over a simple entreaty.”
For several seconds, the group appeared on the verge of a siege, and no one relented. As she pondered her request, which she judged reasonable, she thought she might have to cede her fight. All of a sudden, a commotion stirred at the back, and the crowd parted.
“Make way.” Morgan, the youngest and most audacious of her husband’s friends, marched to the fore. At the entrance, he kicked off his boots, extended his hands for inspection, and winked. “What say thee, fair Isolde? Dost thou approve?”
“Traitor.” Geoffrey scowled.
“Brother, were I not about to faint from starvation, I might take offense to thy insult.” Just as she feared she might have incited a riot, Morgan grinned and bowed with an exaggerated flourish. “But I have been invited to dine with a beauteous lady, so I dare not linger, as the food grows cold.”
“Welcome, Sir Morgan.” In fine humor, she curtseyed. “Thou mayest sit whither thou dost wish, as thither art plenty of empty chairs.” With renewed confidence, she leveled her stare on the remaining opposition. “Well?”
“Ought to lock her in her room.” With a mighty scowl, Aristide relented.
“Never will I take a wife.” Kicking a rock, Demetrius made for the well.
Soon, the angry crowd followed suit, with a single exception.
“Isolde, thou should not challenge the men, as it is not proper behavior for a wife.” Her greatest ally stretched tall, and just as she wavered beneath his scrutiny, he smiled. “Dost thou know that when thy temper is engaged thine eyes sparkle?”
“Art thou trifling with me?” She inclined her head. “As I quite enjoy thy playful conversation, my lord Arucard. And I missed thee this morrow.”
“Thy burgundy cotehardie brings out the blush in thy cheeks.” He checked the immediate vicinity, swooped, and claimed a quick kiss. “I mis
sed thee, too. But thither is much to be done, if we art to be ready for the winter. And I cannot hold assemblies until the castle is adequately fortified, but I assigned my men to thy cause, for thee—and thee, alone. Dost thou understand the urgency?”
“Aye, my lord.” It was all she could do to manage her excitement, as he expressed affection in so many ways, great and small, and he never failed to thrill her. “And I cooked my blancmange for thee—and thee, alone, in grateful appreciation of thy efforts in the undercroft. At last, the kitchen, the spicery, the saucery, the pantry, the buttery, and the scullery art fully repaired and operant. And when thou dost hold thy first feast as lord of Chichester, thy staff stands at the ready to fulfill thy commands, as fit for a king.”
“Owed in large part to thy hard work, despite my commands to rest easy.” As soldiers from the garrison, washed in obeisance of her demands, strolled into the great hall, Arucard lowered his voice. “But I am so proud of thee.”
“I apologize for disobeying thy directives, but I am unaccustomed to being idle.” Grasping his wrist, she led him to the well. When she picked up a bar of soap, he retrieved a bucket of fresh water. As a dutiful wife, she lathered his hands and then scrubbed his face. After he rinsed, she pulled a towel from her fitchet, daubed him dry, and bestowed upon him a whisper of a kiss. “Thither, thou art presentable.”
“Now may I dine?” He arched a brow.
“Aye.” She nodded once.
As they returned to the great hall, he removed his boots and set them in a long line of shoes. “Shall I escort thee to the dais?”
“Prithee, most gallant knight.” Arm in arm, they navigated the crowd, which took note of the late arrivals, as conveyed in a lull of boisterous mirth. As she settled in her seat, she waved to the servants, who brought food and drink. “Eat thy fill, my lord. And on the eventide, I shall prepare thy bath with mint, to soothe thy aches and pains.”
“And wilt thou join me?” As he lifted his tankard of ale, he cast her a side-glance.
Isolde almost choked on her wine, but she recovered before she embarrassed herself. “Dost thou truly wish it?”