by The Leopard
“Of course I will wed you. I want no other woman.”
“When?”
“I’ve told you, lovey, when—”
“...when you think you are wealthy enough,” Astra finished. “Aye, you have told me.” She met his gaze scornfully, then looked away.
She stared at the lovely room. Richard had brought her here for one purpose and one purpose only. He meant to seduce her, to take her maidenhead without offering her the security of marriage. He obviously believed she was so in thrall to his kisses and caresses he could manipulate her at will. His arrogance made her furious.
“You are mistaken, Richard. I am not some cheap doxy you can have with your smug smile and a soft bed. I won’t sell myself for such a mean price.”
Richard reached out to soothe her. She jerked back and raised her chin defiantly. “You told me once all women are whores. So be it. If you want to bed me so badly, you must meet my price. It will be marriage or nothing, Richard. If you care more for your stupid, vainglorious ambitions than me, you will have to sleep in your fancy, silk-covered bed by yourself!”
Richard stared at her a moment, then chuckled. “Good God, you’re a surprising little wench. I never knew you had such fire. It must be the hint of red in your hair that makes you so enticingly passionate. It is near rose-colored between your legs. Such an exquisite warm shade that makes me want to...”
“Stop! You’re lewd! Disgusting! Vile!”
Richard laughed. “There’s no need to call me names. You’re no saint either, Astra. You do flaunt your body. You wear tight gowns and use your lovely blue eyes and sweet smile to make men sigh for you.” Richard reached out and gently stroked her cheek. “I know you want me as much as I want you. When I touch you, your skin grows hot and your mouth gets wet.”
His hand moved down to caress her neck. A shiver rippled through her as his fingers sought the sensitive skin beneath her hair. “You cannot deceive me, Astra. I’ve sucked your luscious nipples, and I’ve tasted your sweet, lovely cupid’s nest, and I know that you ache for me as badly as I do you. You wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”
Astra forced herself to look away from his dark, hypnotic gaze. If she gave in to him now, she would prove him right about herself... about women... about everything.
She faced him with determination. “It’s clear I was mistaken about you,” she pronounced coldly. “They told me you were a knave, a cheat and a whoremonger, but I didn’t listen. I let myself be aroused by your bold kisses and indecent talk. I was too foolish to see you for what you really are.”
Richard’s seductive mask seemed to slip. His dark eyes narrowed with anger, and he began to pull off his tunic. “Then see me for what I really am, Astra. I’m a hot-blooded man with a thunderous ache in my balls. And I have something you want, Astra. Something big and hot and hard.” His hands went to his hose. He jerked them down.
Mother of God! He was naked except for his boots and the velvet hose around his ankles. She tried not to look but found it impossible. His phallus jutted out like a post. It was brownish red, almost purplish. The hair around the base of it was black and silky. It was the most shocking thing she’d ever seen in her life. She raised her eyes to his.
“Take me home, Richard.”
She saw him almost visibly deflate. The burning hunger in his eyes faded, to be replaced by anger. “No.”
“I want to go back to Westminster. Please escort me.”
“You’ll have to find your way by yourself. I’ve already troubled myself enough on your account tonight.”
She watched him pull up his hose and cover himself. Carefully, she noted. Men took such care with their private parts. It was odd, considering the way they abused the rest of their bodies.
They stared at each other. Finally, Astra realized she had no choice. He obviously wasn’t going to escort her back to Westminster, and she couldn’t stay there. If she did, he’d surely try again to bed her. His phallus was like a weapon. He’d put it away for now, but he could still use it to threaten her later.
Slowly, carefully, she put herself back together. She couldn’t do her hair by herself, so she twisted it up in a roll on the back of her head and pinned it. Then she put on her veil, the circlet, her gloves, and finally, the cloak.
He hadn’t budged. He was standing by the brazier, as if he was cold. His face looked sad and boyish. She started to feel sorry for him and then realized what he was making her do. She would have to find her way out of Southwark. At night. Alone.
Gritting her teeth in fury, she walked to the door. Without looking back, she opened it and went out.
The small landing was swathed in mist. For a moment, she couldn’t see at all. Then she gradually made out the ladder and climbed down. Icy fear gripped her as soon as she reached the ground. A dark alley in Southwark had to be one of the most dangerous, horrifying places in England, mayhaps even the world. It was smelly, rank and so dark she could see no more than a few paces. She heard familiar scurrying noises near her feet. She couldn’t decide what she was more afraid of—furry, sharp-toothed rodents, or the human kind of vermin.
She had to get out of the alleyway. The street might have other dangers, but it was better lit. It was madness to think of finding her way to the wharf. The best plan she could think of was to seek sanctuary in a church. Even the most hardened cleric wouldn’t turn her away. It was an ancient tradition that criminals could find comfort and safety within the sacred walls of the holy church. Surely there was room there for an errant young woman as well.
It was so dark. She sensed an opening in the alleyway instead of seeing it. She could hear voices, the clink of cups. She must be near one of the alehouses. If only she could find the entrance.
A tall figure walked out of the mist ahead of her and blocked the way. Astra shrank back and tried to decide whether to scream. It was too late. Strong fingers covered her mouth, while another hand grabbed her shoulder.
“Don’t scream, Astra.”
Her body seemed to turn to pudding and collapse into a puddle on the street. “Richard!” she cried as his hand left her mouth.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make certain you get back to Westminster safely. I wouldn’t risk leaving one of my fellow knights alone on these streets, let alone a timid little thing like you.”
Astra’s fear had deserted her, leaving in its place a fierce resentment. “Slimy toad,” she hissed at him.
He took her arm, and they began to walk toward the quay.
* * *
Richard smiled into the darkness. He’d gotten over his anger and was beginning to enjoy himself. His demure little angel had surprised him with her determination and nerve, but he found he rather liked her that way. It made Astra even more appealing to know she was not a hypocrite or a tease. She sincerely believed he had no right to her body until he wed her. She had stood up to him as boldly as any man. To know that she took her ideals seriously fired his admiration for her all the more.
They neared the docks, and the path grew foul and slippery with dampness. Richard tightened his grip. When Astra stiffened in response, his smile deepened. Women were like horses. The spirited ones always gave you a better ride. They might throw you off a few times, but when you finally mastered them, it was almost always worth the wait. He savored the thought. It would help keep him warm on the long, chilly journey back to Westminster.
Twenty-four
When they arrived at the palace, Richard bowed, bidding Astra adieu as if they were the most casual of acquaintances.
Shaking with fatigue and cold, Astra slipped in by the back way and made her way to her sleeping chamber. No brazier or lamp had been lit, and the room was dark and frosty cold. Her numb fingers struggled with her ruined gloves and the laces to her gown. At last, still wearing her chemise and stockings, she climbed into the bed and pulled up the blankets and fur throw.
She wondered if she would ever be warm again. Her limbs were like icicles, and the pile of bedcovers did little to ease her
shivering. She thought at first she might be ill. Then she realized that at least part of her uncontrollable shuddering was a reaction to the strain she had endured. On this night she had risked her reputation and likely her life. Worse yet, she had done it all for a heartless knight who did not have the decency to wed her!
Her anger returned, warming her slightly. She’d been mad to ignore the stories about Sir Richard. Her own experiences should have taught her what a rogue he was. What kind of man spied on young women bathing in the woods? For that matter, what kind of man took a young maid out alone in London and sought to deflower her in a stinking sewer like Southwark? Richard was everything people said he was: a scoundrel, a philanderer, a fortune hunter.
Astra nursed her anger and indignation. Wallowing in the heat of her outrage helped drive away the anguish that lingered in the pit of her belly. If she wasn’t so furious, she’d start thinking about how much Richard’s rejection hurt. Even more frightening, she’d have to face the awful knowledge that Richard Reivers might be an unredeemable rogue, but she seemed to love him anyway.
Despair stalked her and she turned her face to the dark, featureless wall of the sleeping chamber and willed herself not to cry. The night had been long, and she was dreadfully tired. Very slowly, her body warmed, and her fevered thoughts eased. As night crept toward the milky dawn, she nestled deeper into the soft blankets and slept.
She did not awaken until very late, stirring only when there was a commotion in the room. She opened her eyes and beheld the Queen herself looking down on her.
“Astra, my dear, can you hear me’?”
Astra sat up abruptly, shocked to find Her Highness stroking her forehead.
“Your Grace!”
“Thank the heavens you are better. Your skin is cool. The fever must have broken in the night.”
“You should not be here!”
“Nonsense, I have no fear of contagion. I have nursed my children through many ailments. Besides, Lady Marguerite has been seeing to you, and she has not taken ill.”
“I... I... I...” Astra stammered, utterly flabbergasted by the Queen’s concern.
“Lie back. You are still very pale. I’ll have some gruel brought. Perhaps I should have the court physician look in on you later. He might need to bleed you.”
“No, please!” Astra gasped. “I am much improved. In fact, I feel quite well!”
She struggled to sit up, endeavoring to look like a paragon of health. The Queen frowned, but did not press her to lie down again.
“You do appear heartier than I expected. Perhaps you will be well enough to join us in the Great Hall tonight. I have some charming entertainment planned.”
“That would be lovely. I will look forward to it.”
The Queen left. Astra sank back on the bed, near faint with relief. She had an absolute terror of physicians, and the sight of blood affected her distressingly. She intended to look surpassingly healthy by tonight, even if she had to paint her cheeks with rouge to manage it.
She’d risen and dressed when a faint knock sounded at the door. Marguerite entered, her eyes bright. She closed the door tightly and then sat down on the bed.
“You must tell me everything, simply everything! Did he propose? Did you let him bed you?”
Astra flushed. Considering the events of last evening by the cool reason of daylight did not make her feel any better. Nay, she felt worse. “I’m afraid it did not go exactly as planned. Richard and I quarreled most intemperately.”
“Quarreled? Whatever did you quarrel about?”
“He will not wed me. He has a dozen excuses if he has one.”
“And so, you did not let him bed you?”
Astra shook her head. “He was quite angry. In fact, he threatened to abandon me in Southwark.”
“Southwark! Surely he did not!”
“No, he capitulated and brought me back to Westminster. Otherwise I likely would have perished in some filthy alley.”
“Jesu, Astra, what a disaster!” Marguerite exclaimed. “I count myself partly responsible. I felt sure Richard was so enchanted with you, he only needed a little nudge to succumb completely.”
“You were wrong. Richard Reivers is the most stubborn man I have ever met. He says he will not wed me until he is wealthy, and I believe he means to stick by his words.”
Astra sighed. Marguerite reached out to touch her cheek. “Poor sweeting. You truly love him, don’t you?”
Astra stared miserably at her friend and nodded. As much as she wanted to deny Marguerite’s words, she could not. No matter what Richard did, no matter how he angered her, she could not change how she felt about him. He had stolen her heart, nay, her very soul. Without him, the world was a gray and cheerless place. She could scarce think of life without him.
“If you are certain of your feelings, Astra, I know exactly what we must do.”
“What?”
Marguerite smiled enigmatically. “We shall make Richard marry you.”
Astra gave her a startled look. “I thought... you said my getting with child would be unwise.”
“I have abandoned that plan. I have another.” Marguerite smoothed the fur throw on the bed thoughtfully. “Do you know the story of the King’s sister, Lady Eleanor, and Simon de Montfort?”
“I know they are wed.”
“They were forced to wed. The King caught them in a compromising situation and forced de Monfort to marry Lady Eleanor. Henry is quite pious, and even though there was no child yet conceived, he would not allow his sister’s honor to be tarnished.”
“But I’ve heard they are devoted to each other.”
“They are, my dear. In fact, there are those who think the incident was all a ruse to get Henry to allow them to marry. They gambled that Henry would insist on the marriage even though he opposed giving his sister to de Monfort.”
“What does this have to do with Richard and me?”
Marguerite smiled triumphantly. “We will also use Henry’s sense of propriety to force a marriage.”
“How?”
“You and Richard will be found in an improper situation. Although you are not related to the King, I know he feels great fondness towards you and cares for you like a daughter or sister. If the King believes Richard has dishonored you, he will order Sir Richard to wed you.”
Astra could only stare at her friend. Even the fearsome Black Leopard could not deny the command of his liege lord. If the King did make such request, Richard would be well and truly trapped.
“Richard loves you,” Marguerite continued. “His refusal to wed is nothing more than pigheadedness. Once the marriage is inevitable, he will accept that having you as his wife is truly his heart’s desire.”
Astra nodded. Richard had said he meant to marry her. All they would be doing is forcing him to act upon his words. Still, the scheme made her very uneasy. “We should speak to Will,” she suggested. “He seems to have much insight into Richard’s heart.”
“There is no time. Will is in Thornbury visiting his family, and we must act quickly—before the King sends Richard back to Wales or some other godforsaken battlefield.”
A chill went down Astra’s spine. Richard had spoken of the King sending him away. When might that be? Tomorrow? Next week? If Richard went away to war, she might never see him again. Astra chewed her lip doubtfully. “If I were to agree to your plan, Marguerite, what exactly would we do?”
“First, you will send Richard a message expressing consternation at the rift between the two of you. Suggest that you meet to talk. Then, when you and Richard are alone together, the trap is sprung.”
“How?”
“Don’t be dense, Astra. You seduce him, of course!”
“Seduce him? Why would I want to...”
“Relax, sweeting. It will only be pretend. A few kisses and caresses, your bodice and headdress found in déshabillé. That will be enough to suggest Richard’s intentions.” Marguerite’s smile broadened. “Someone comes looking for you. They
find you in Richard’s arms. He is pawing you, as he is wont to do anyway. The story of the scandal is reported to the King. He is outraged, determined to see Richard do right by the young maiden he has so callously dishonored. Voilà! You have yourself a husband.”
Astra shook her head. “Richard would be furious if I did such a thing. He has a great deal of pride. I’m not sure he would ever forgive me if I tricked him into marriage.”
“I know Richard will be outraged. But in truth, it serves him fairly. For years he has toyed with the hearts of young maidens. He deserves to get his comeuppance. Besides, I have no doubt you can convince him to forgive you. Once the two of you are wed, he will be able to indulge all his desires in your bed.” Marguerite raised her brows suggestively. “I’m certain you will win him over in a matter of nights.”
Astra felt herself being swayed. It took her breath away to think of being in bed with Richard, finally able to sample the delights he had oft tempted her with. Her head swam with feverish, erotic images. Richard’s handsome, enticing face pressed against her body. His mouth and fingers teasing, torturing and then satisfying her. The aching hollowness inside her filled with Richard’s stirring, magical flesh.
She forced the delicious thoughts away. If she went through with Marguerite’s plan, she would be deceiving the man she loved. Their marriage would begin with a lie. It was not right. It simply was not an honorable thing to do.
“I cannot do it. I appreciate your offer of help, Marguerite, but it would violate my conscience to trap Richard into marriage.”
Marguerite’s eyes narrowed. “Astra de Mortain, I am surprised at you. Have you no backbone at all? This man has cozened you and manipulated you shamefully. He dragged you off to Southwark and threatened to abandon you there. Richard Reivers deserves to be forced to marry you. You must prove you are not some cheap doxy he can use and then toss aside. You must let him know that you are a lady, a well-born woman who deserves better treatment!”
