by Alexa Aston
Margery’s heart told her that this man was blameless and it was for her to take the high road. If he and his son left Highfield, they might never become whole again.
“That would make me most unhappy, Matthew,” Margery told him as she gripped Ancel’s hand and used it to come to her feet. She went and stood before the broken laborer. “You and your son are good men and fine blacksmiths. We have a great need of your services at Highfield. I insist that you stay unless you feel you cannot.”
Hope glimmered in his eyes. “You . . . you would not have us leave, my lady? You do not judge us or think ill of us?”
“Nay, Matthew.” She gave him a sad smile. “You and I have both had to deal with unexpected loss. I want you to stay where you are wanted. Where you have friends. Where you can heal.”
He bowed his head. “Thank you, my lady.” His words were barely above a whisper. “I am most grateful for your mercy.”
“And I am blessed to have you and John as a part of Highfield.” Margery reached and took the blacksmith’s hand in hers. She searched his eyes and saw this would be a man ever loyal to her. She pressed a kiss of forgiveness against the hardened knuckles and released his hand.
Matthew fell to his knees, great sobs coming from him.
“Come, Matthew,” Geoffrey said. The earl led the smithy from the room.
“That was very generous of you, Margery,” Ancel said. “But it was a wise decision.”
She sighed. “I saw no need for the Cheynes to suffer more than they already have.”
“You look tired,” Merryn said. “We’ll leave you so you can rest.”
Margery gripped Ancel’s hand. “Could you stay for a little while?” she asked.
“Of course.”
Merryn and Sarah left the room. Margery held fast to Ancel’s hand, feeling his warmth fill her. They sat in silence for some minutes before he told her he should go.
“We have the journey to Kinwick ahead of us if you’re still willing to leave in the morning. You need to get some sleep.”
“I am still eager to leave for Kinwick but don’t go,” she pleaded. “I have struggled some sleeping in this chamber since I gave up the solar for your parents to use. Seeing what Eua did to herself tonight has brought back all the horrible memories of what happened here.”
“Would you like to move across the hall? You could sleep there and I in here,” he offered.
“Nay. I want you to sleep here. With me.”
Ancel’s brows shot up.
“Hear me out,” Margery said. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. I need you with me.” She paused. “I need your kiss, Ancel. Your touch. I want you to love me.”
His hand cupped her cheek. “We are not married yet, sweetheart.”
“I know. But we will be wed in less than a month’s time. It’s already the start of the third week in December, Ancel, and we will marry when the New Year comes.”
“What if we make a babe tonight?”
She shrugged. “What if we do? Then he—or she—might come a few weeks early. I don’t care.” She gripped his hand. “I need you tonight. Don’t deny me your company.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “Your wish is my command, my lady.”
Ancel pulled from her grasp and rose from the bed. He crossed the room and secured the latch on the door and then returned. Slowly, he removed every piece of clothing he wore until he stood before her, gloriously naked. Margery’s mouth went dry as she gazed at him. The broad shoulders that seemed as wide as the bed itself. The mat of dark hair on his chest that ran down to a flat stomach. And his manhood itself, rising to stand at attention. Her eyes widened at its size and length. Although she had touched it once before, she really hadn’t looked at it.
Curiosity had her reach out to finger it.
The head was smooth as silk. Margery ran the tips of her fingers over it before she grasped the firm shaft in her hand. Ancel groaned and pried her fingers from him.
“Not just yet, sweetheart. I need to see to you—and your needs.”
She climbed off the bed and allowed Ancel to unwind her braid to free her hair and remove the layers of her clothing till she, too, stood naked before him. His eyes roamed her body.
“Perfection,” he declared as he enfolded her in an embrace.
Her breasts pressed against the hard muscles in his chest. Margery couldn’t help but glide her hand along it, smoothing the thick mat of hair.
“You are so very different from me,” she proclaimed.
“Yet we will fit together as one. Soon,” he promised.
He lowered his mouth to hers and parted her lips with his tongue. She didn’t know how she had lived as many years as she had without his kiss. He deepened it, causing her to cling to his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh. He pushed his fingers into her unbound hair and they massaged her scalp soothingly.
Then his hands glided down her neck and stroked her bare back up and down. A tingling began inside her, familiar yet new. Gradually, his hands went lower till they cupped her buttocks. His shaft pressed against her. She longed to touch it again and appease her curiosity about it but she would wait till he told her she could. Her breasts grew heavy and the nipples sensitive as they rubbed against his chest.
One of his hands remained cupped against her bottom, while the other roamed between them. He palmed one breast and Margery felt it swell to fit his hand. As he kneaded it, he kissed her neck, his lips moving to her ear. A shiver of delighted rushed through her. Ancel’s teeth found her earlobe and tugged on it, bringing a wave of hot desire. Margery wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him until she was breathless.
Ancel released her breast and his hand dragged between them, down her body, until he reached the apex of her legs. A drumming began inside her as she knew what to expect. He stroked the slit and Margery found her breathing became quick and shallow. Pushing a finger inside her, he captured her lips with his again. His finger knew exactly what to do to please her. Soon it was joined by a second, then a third, as she began writhing, grinding against him, whimpering in need.
Ancel slowly pulled his fingers from her and swept her into his arms. Carrying her to the bed, he set her down and pushed her back against the pillows. He hovered over her, his tongue touching her nipple, licking, teasing it. Lightning shot through Margery. Her arms went around him, holding his head hard against her. He played with one breast, then the other, tormenting her as the pounding inside her grew stronger.
Then his lips moved to her belly, kissing her softly. She wriggled under his touch, wanting more.
And he gave it to her.
His tongue glided down to her womanly parts and playfully darted in and out. Margery gasped at the contact between them, shocked—and maddened—by his touch. Ancel’s tongue did even more than his fingers had. Suddenly, an immense heat rose within her and she bucked wildly against his mouth, riding out a wave of intense pleasure.
Finally, she stilled and thought her bones had melted into the mattress. She had no energy and couldn’t even lift a hand to touch him.
He rose above her again, his mouth skimming her body till it reached her lips. His fingers toyed with her, rubbing that small nub that gave her so much pleasure.
Then they slid out and were replaced by his shaft. He thrust, once, hard into her. Margery gasped and nearly came off the bed but his body held her down even as he filled and stretched her.
“It’s done,” he said. “I’ve breeched your maidenhead. I know it hurt but it never will again.”
Already, the pain had receded, replaced by a growing need for him.
“Fill me,” she said. “Fill me with you and your love for me.”
Ancel pressed a soft kiss against her brow.
Then he moved within her. Slowly, she became accustomed to the movement and caught his rhythm. A force built within her, screaming to get out, as he thrust harder and deeper. The buzzing and warmth from before filled her again and she cried out as he did. She
felt his seed spill inside her, bringing an immense satisfaction.
He collapsed against her and quickly rolled to his side, pulling her with him. His shaft lingered inside her and Margery felt a contentment as never before.
Ancel gazed at her and said, “I love you, Margery Ormond. I cannot imagine what my life was like before you. There’s only here. Now. And what’s to come.”
She laid her palm against his face, relishing his scent and feel and the way their bodies entwined as one.
“The past is gone,” she agreed. “The future is ours to make. Together.” Margery smiled. “I love you, Ancel de Montfort. I will till the end of time.”
She snuggled against him as the world faded away and left only the two of them.
Chapter 20
Margery looked across the great hall and thought how things had changed for the better in a short amount of time. Instead of the unease and fear that had existed with Lord Umfrey’s presence, those breaking their fast this morning had smiles on their faces and engaged in conversation with their table mates. She enjoyed the new atmosphere at Highfield—and it was all due to the man at her side.
Ancel de Montfort was a natural leader and gained instant respect wherever he went. Moreover, this was a man who upheld his knightly code of honor. The changes at Highfield had occurred because of him.
And the change Ancel had brought to her life was only beginning.
Margery knew they would build a strong life together here—and at court—before they eventually took over the responsibilities at Kinwick one day in the far-off future. When she had worked on preparing Highfield for Christmastime twelve months ago, she could not have imagined how different her life would be a year later, and now she couldn’t think of it without Ancel coming to mind. Last night had opened her eyes not only to what happened between a man and a woman physically but the depth and breadth of emotions within her let her know her life was only truly starting.
Did she look any different today after what she had experienced only a few hours ago? She didn’t think so yet everything inside of her told a different story. Margery was surprised that happiness didn’t bubble from her.
Ancel leaned close and said, “Father and I will go now and ready the horses and assemble the escort party to Kinwick.”
“So we have soldiers from Highfield and Kinwick accompanying us to your home?”
“Aye. The road can be a dangerous place, my love. Sir Folcard will be in charge of the knights who go with us, while Sir Terryn will stay behind and keep things safe here until we return.”
He took her hand and squeezed it. “Be ready to leave in a quarter hour.”
Ancel signaled his father and both men left the dais.
Merryn turned to her. “Just think, the next meal you partake in under Highfield’s roof will be as a wedded wife. You will be Margery de Montfort.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” she admitted. “I must thank you again for allowing us to marry at Kinwick.”
“I love nothing more than for my family to gather, especially to celebrate the marriage of two people so deeply in love. Frankly, Margery, ‘tis you I should thank for bringing such happiness to my eldest son. Because of events that occurred concerning Geoffrey when Ancel was a small boy, Ancel has always found it hard to trust, much less open up to others.” Merryn paused. “But I see how he looks at you. There is trust—and love—in abundance.”
“I feel fortunate to have Ancel in my life, Merryn. I’ve never known any couple in love but I see how you and Geoffrey are with one another and know Ancel has had that shining example his entire life.”
“I know you already love my son, Margery, but I promise that your love will grow stronger each day you are wed. And when you have children together, it will multiply beyond your imagination.”
Margery thought of their love play last night and wondered if Ancel’s babe already grew within her.
“Excuse me, my lady. Will Artus requested your trunk be brought down,” Christine said. “I took the liberty of placing your wedding kirtle and cotehardie into it before he carried it to the cart.”
“Thank you,” Margery told the seamstress. “You did an excellent job, Christine. I cannot wait for Ancel to see me in it.”
“’Twas a pleasure to make it for you, my lady. I wish you and Sir Ancel much happiness.” Christine excused herself.
Margery glanced back at Merryn. “I think we need to make our way to the bailey. We should be leaving soon.” She reached for the small bundle which contained a change of clothing and her comb. Merryn had suggested she bring this and have Ancel tie it to his horse.
Several people came to tell her goodbye, including Sarah, who hugged her tightly. Her friend whispered in her ear, “The ways of a man and woman may surprise you, my lady, but my Harry has made me very happy. I know Sir Ancel will do the same for you.”
Margery hid a smile, already knowing something about the physical pleasures of love. “I am glad you are so content with Harry,” she told Sarah. “I cannot wait to wed Sir Ancel.” She reached down and scooped up Whitefoot, handing him to Sarah for safekeeping while they were away.
Finally, she and Merryn left the manor house to join the men. Ancel awaited her next to Storm.
“Will left with your things a few minutes ago,” he informed her. “We will arrive at Kinwick faster than he can since the cart will slow him down.”
“That’s not a problem,” she said, handing him the parcel. “I have something else to wear inside this.”
He took the bundle and attached it to Storm’s saddle before he helped her on the horse’s back. Joining her, Ancel said, “Mayhap we can continue our riding lessons at Kinwick. The stables have a variety of horses, so I know we can find a gentle one with a good temperament for you to practice on.”
His arms went around her waist as he took up the reins. Margery leaned against his chest, content to be close to him for the three days it would take to reach Kinwick.
Sir Folcard motioned the escort party to ride out and they crossed the inner bailey. Margery waved to workers as they cantered by. They reached the outer bailey and picked up speed, heading for the open gates. Suddenly, Margery was confused. She watched Will drive the cart with her trunk through them. Why was he returning? Had he forgotten something?
The squire pulled up on the reins, a perplexed look on his features. As the horse came to a halt, Will stood, waving his arms wildly. Before he said a word, Margery knew. She held her breath, a wordless prayer on her lips. In that moment, her world came crashing down as Thurstan Vivers appeared on a midnight black horse, riding through the gates and coming straight toward them.
He yanked on the reins and stopped directly in front of Storm. Glaring at her, he said, “Where do you think you are going, Margery? And who are these people?” He pointed in Will’s direction. “This boy said you were leaving for somewhere called Kinwick.”
An icy chill ran through her as Ancel’s arms tightened about her but she was not the Margery of old that Thurstan remembered. In her short time with Ancel, she had learned to speak up for herself.
“These people have helped keep Highfield going, Thurstan, at the king’s command. You abandoned us,” she accused. “You have no idea of the suffering that went on here in your absence.”
“I had to leave, Margery,” her stepbrother said, his irritation with her obvious. “Father sent me to London that day to bring back a horse he had purchased for Gervase. As I rode out, I saw the armed mob gathering. I raced past them in order to hold fast to my life. When I reached the city, chaos ruled. Fires spread everywhere. Noblemen were being massacred in the streets. I couldn’t chance being caught and killed, especially since I knew the same thing was happening at Highfield.”
“So you deliberately fled, knowing the mob would kill your family. And then stayed gone half a year, like a coward,” Ancel said.
Thurstan sneered at the insult. “I assume you’re one of the king’s men. If you helped bring back order here or m
aintained the property, you have my thanks. But I’ve returned now and will care for things.” He glanced around. “Especially since it is mine.”
“So you know they murdered your father?” Ancel probed.
Thurstan shrugged. “I assumed the worst. I was lucky enough to make my way to the river and purchased passage to Calais. Unfortunately, I suffered an accident once I reached there and broke my leg. I couldn’t walk, much less ride a horse, for several months. ‘Tis why it has taken me so long to return and claim my title and inheritance.”
“And you didn’t worry in all this time about Lady Margery or what had happened here at Highfield?” Ancel asked. “You never thought to write and send word as to where you were?”
Margery sensed the contained anger in Ancel, both in his voice and body.
“They wouldn’t have hurt women,” Thurstan said coolly. “Margery and her mother were never in danger. I thought the rebels would bring harm to my father and brother, so I did what I had to do to protect myself. After all, I am the future of Highfield.”
Margery snapped at his cavalier words and attitude. “My mother was murdered in her bed by that vicious mob. Her throat cut while she lay there, with no way—and no one—to defend her.”
Her stepbrother’s eyes widened. “I did not know.” But no apology for her loss came from his lips and Margery’s anger grew.
“I had to hide and when I came out, I discovered Lord Umfrey’s body. They beheaded your father, Thurstan. Disemboweled him. Broke his legs and cut off his fingers. Gervase, too, suffered at their hands. You have no idea what it was like.”
He pursed his lips a moment then calmly said, “’Tis unfortunate what occurred here, Margery, but I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t worry, you are now under my protection.”
“Nay,” Ancel said firmly. “Lady Margery is under my protection now. I am Sir Ancel de Montfort, a member of the king’s royal guard, and I plan to make the lady my wife. With me are my father and mother, Lord Geoffrey and Lady Merryn de Montfort. We journey now to Kinwick and will wed there come the New Year.”
