by The Leopard
“For that matter, Astra, a lady does not beg her husband to bed her. She is pleased he satisfies his vile needs elsewhere. She spreads her legs only to beget him heirs, and even then she is reluctant. But you, Astra, are a wanton. Your legs fly open at my touch. You moan and quiver at a mere kiss.”
As he spoke, Richard moved close and thrust his hand between her legs. As he pressed down on her aching flesh, she closed her eyes.
“You are wet for me, always wet.” His caressing hand moved away. “Once you maddened me with lust, but now...”
She heard Richard getting up from the bed. As she opened her eyes, he quit the room, shutting the door behind him. She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself. It was true. She could not resist him. Never, ever. No matter what her resolve, her body betrayed her.
But perhaps that was because her body knew the truth that Richard, in his anger, sought to deny. They were meant to be together, to be joined as one.
* * *
“Watch where you’re going, you wretched scum!” Richard shouted at the drunkard who staggered into him, near knocking him down.
“Peace, Richard,” Will implored. “Your path is not much steadier than his. We’d best hurry before you fall into the gutter.”
They walked on. Will glanced apprehensively at the eerie, mist-shrouded street ahead of them. It was ill chance to be out on a night like this. The fog provided the perfect concealment for thieves, marauders and murderers. They would be lucky to have only their purses cut instead of their throats.
Will breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the Black Swan. The place was near-empty. There was no one here to pick a fight with Richard, or to see him go upstairs with Ruby. It would be a fine thing, Will thought, if Lady Astra should hear of this. What lady would not be dismayed to find that her husband of three days was already off to visit another woman?
Will had hoped Ruby would not be there, that she might have left with some other customer already, or disappeared into the dark maw of Southwark, never to be heard from again. But there she was, serving some ruffians at the other end of the tavern. Watching her lean over the table, her ample breasts jiggling beneath her thin gown, Will felt a wave of disgust. How could Richard desire a woman like that? One who flaunted her body to every man who passed through the tavern? One who sold herself to anyone with enough silver to pay for her pleasure in the cold, dirty room upstairs?
Will shook his head and wondered at Richard’s madness, his stubborn blindness to the beautiful, gracious woman he had wed. Somehow he had to jolt his friend out of this trough of bitterness and self-pity and make him see reason.
Ruby saw them as soon as they were seated. She turned from her rough customers and sauntered over, hips swaying provocatively. “Well, well. Look what the dog dragged in. I thought perhaps you’d found another lair, Reivers.” Her lips twitched lasciviously as her black-rimmed eyes sank to his crotch. “I’ve missed my pet. Not another man in London has a blade that fits my notch so deliciously.” She leaned over the table and the flimsy gown gaped open, displaying her breasts. “The upstairs room is open, love. Would you meet me there now, or have a drink first?”
“He’ll have a drink,” Will answered quickly. Richard nodded sullenly. Ruby gave Will a contemptuous look and went to fetch the ale.
Will leaned close to his friend. “I cannot think you would want that. Ruby cannot hold a candle to the beauteous creature waiting in your bed.”
“Expert on women are you now, Will?” Richard observed acidly.
“Nay, but I do have eyes in my head, and ears, too, for that matter. Ruby’s naught but a nasty trull who’ll spread her legs for any man.”
Richard’s dark eyes drooped sleepily. “They all do that, Will. She’s just more honest about it than some women. I like that. I like her honesty.”
“Honesty?” Will snorted. “She’d rob you while you slept if you had anything to steal. Don’t flatter yourself to think you hold Ruby’s heart. Women like that don’t have one.”
Richard said nothing, merely took a sip from the nearly empty wineskin he carried. If he kept up at this pace, Will shuddered to think how ill his friend would be on the morrow. At least Astra would have a reprieve while Richard slept off his aching head.
Ruby returned and plunked down a tankard of ale before each of them. Then she stood by expectantly, as if waiting for Richard to gulp it down and follow her upstairs. Richard gave her a hostile look and then stood up. “I’ve got to piss,” he muttered.
Ruby watched him walk unsteadily to the door. “You need any help, love, just call me,” she taunted softly.
Ruby turned to go, but Will grabbed her wrist and jerked her down on the bench beside him. “While he’s gone, you and I are going talk.”
“We’ve nothing to talk about, you filthy jack!”
“Yea, we do have something to speak of. We will speak of Richard. I don’t want him contaminated by your vileness. I’m willing to pay you to turn your attentions elsewhere.”
“But he hasn’t even bobbed me yet!” Ruby protested in outrage. “You think I don’t look forward to my nights with him? He’s a far cry from the usual rubbish that comes here. Oh my, Richard is good. The best I’ve ever had. Why should I give that up?”
“I said I’d pay you, bitch. I’ve got gold.”
“Now, why would you do that?” Ruby’s hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’ve never cared if the Leopard quiffed me the nightlong afore this. What ails you, de Lacy?”
“Richard was married three days ago. I’d not have him break his vows so soon.”
“Married? The Leopard?”
Will nodded stiffly. He hadn’t wanted to tell her, but she’d not grabbed for the money as quickly as he’d expected. Maybe there was a chance of deterring her some other way.
Ruby smiled. “Got a rich one, did he? Tush, tush, Willy Boy. I don’t give a fart if Richard’s wed some ugly, rich countess. All the more reason for him to spend time with me. I intend to give him a right proper welcome, remind him exactly what he’s been missing. And I don’t want none of your ill-gotten purse,” she added defiantly. “You’d probably call the beadles after me and say I pinched it. What would the likes of me be doing with gold anyway?”
“I should call them,” Will said coolly. “Turn you in for the cheap strumpet you are. You’d look a fine sight with your head shaved, being carted off to the stocks at Smithfield.” He fingered one of Ruby’s coppery curls. “I don’t think Richard would find you so much to his liking without your pretty hair.”
For a moment, Ruby paled, and Will knew she was considering the punishment for prostitution. They shaved the woman’s head and then dragged her through the streets while the crowd pelted her with offal and called out dirty names.
Ruby jerked her head away from Will’s fingers and gave him a cold, malevolent stare. “The price of being a bawd ain’t near so high as the punishment for what you are. I’ve heard that men who buggar boys are sentenced to be boiled alive. You might think of that before you threaten me.”
Will met her eyes with a steady gaze, but deep down he knew she was right. He was not a man who could use the influence and wealth of his title to threaten others. He was too vulnerable himself. Still, there must be some way to get Ruby to quit Richard. It seemed she genuinely desired him. Perhaps the way to wipe the sneer off her painted face was to make her jealous.
“By the by,” Will began, leaning back casually. “You’re wrong about Richard’s wife. She’s not rich at all, and she’s a far cry from being old and repulsive. She’s as fair to look upon as any woman alive.”
Ruby snorted contemptuously. “I don’t believe you. If Richard’s wife wasn’t a plain, scrawny bitch, he’d not be here so soon after his wedding.”
Will shrugged. “Ask him. Richard will tell you that his wife has the face of an angel—and a body to make a man think he has died and gone to heaven.”
“How would you know? You’re hardly fit to judge a woman’s looks.”
“I’m only repeating things Richard has said. He can scarcely restrain himself when it comes to describing his wife’s beauty.”
“I don’t believe a word you say, Will de Lacy. If Richard’s wife is a beauty, why doesn’t he want to lie with her?”
“A lover’s tiff. He’ll forgive her by tomorrow, and return to her bed. He wedded her for love, you know. She didn’t even have a dowry.”
Ruby’s mouth fell open. “She can’t be poor. Richard had no reason to take a wife except for land and property.”
“She doesn’t have a silver penny to her name.”
Will struggled to repress a smile. Ruby’s face was unpleasantly flushed with jealousy, her painted lips twisted into an ugly grimace of hatred. Let Richard see her like this. It might well cool his ardor, especially if he recalled Astra’s sweet, tranquil countenance.
“Where is he?” Ruby asked suddenly. She looked around. “He should be back by now.”
“Why don’t you go find him? Ask him about his new wife.”
“I will.” Ruby rose haughtily from the bench. “I’ll do just that.”
As she walked away, Will let his grin break free. Richard was very sensitive on the subject of his marriage, and Ruby was too stupid and jealous to leave the matter alone. It should be an ugly fight.
Thirty-three
“Jesu, you startled me!” Richard exclaimed as Ruby appeared beside him. “I thought you were some fiend out to slit my throat.”
“It’s only me, love. Why are you out here alone? It’s so much warmer inside.” Her fingers edged up his arm.
“I’m thinking.” He leaned away from her. He was tired, and the wine was giving him a headache.
“Will told me you’ve wed.”
“Bloody bastard can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“What’s she like?”
“God’s teeth, Ruby, I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Why not?”
He glared at her.
“Is it true she’s poor?”
“Damnation! I said I don’t want to speak—”
“Is she beautiful?” Ruby interrupted. “Does she truly have a pleasing form?”
Richard regarded the woman beside him resentfully. Will was right. He’d been a fool to come here. Ruby was an ill-mannered squall, worse even than Astra. At least Astra didn’t nag him.
“Aye, she’s fair. What of it, Ruby?”
“How fair? What’s she got that I don’t?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Aye, I do,” Ruby said petulantly. “I’ve a right to know. I had you afore she did.”
Richard closed his eyes, fighting his weariness. His head seemed to be spinning. “You never had me, Ruby. You were merely a pleasant lay, that’s all.”
Ruby reached out and put her arms around him. “Tush, love, we had more than that. I never even charged you after the first time. I lay for you because I wanted to. You were always the best, the sweetest, the fiercest... my darling Leopard.”
He pushed her away in disgust. He could smell her, and she was none too clean. It had never mattered before, but now it did. Astra’s pretty flower scent still clung to his hair and skin. He could not believe he had left her for this.
“God in heaven,” Ruby muttered, struggling to regain her balance. “It’s true, isn’t it? You’re in love with her!”
He clenched his teeth, saying nothing.
“I can’t believe you’d be such a dense-pated fool, to fall for a fancy lady bitch. They’re all mewling, white-faced little sticks that don’t know the first thing about pleasing a man.”
“Shut up, Ruby. I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why? Because you’re on the outs with her? Not three days wed and already you’re fighting.” Ruby’s lips pulled into a delighted sneer.
“I told you to shut your nasty, painted slit!”
“You never had trouble with my mouth afore this,” she taunted. “You always liked what I did with it, swallowing your sweet pet almost whole.”
“Jesu, Ruby, what does it take? You keep up with this, and I’ll knock you into the street!”
“Try it,” she taunted. “I have naught to fear from a henpecked fool like you. Next you’ll be wearing the horns for your lady wife. Now that she’s wed she has no reason to keep her legs together. As soon as you leave London, she’ll be lifting her linen for some well-hung gallant.”
The rage rose in him, blotting out the dizziness. “You bitch!” he hissed. His hands clenched into fists.
Strong arms grabbed him from behind. “Christ, Richard. She’s not worth it!”
Will’s words sank in slowly. His friend was right. It was stupidity to let Ruby taunt him. He didn’t want to be here, in this filthy alley. He didn’t want to be anywhere near this place.
He sagged back against Will. His stomach was roiling dangerously. “We should leave,” he said. “Go back to Westminster.”
.“Sure, sure. Go back to your royal slut,” Ruby called out. She turned and went into the tavern, hips swaying.
Richard rubbed his hand over his sweaty face. When he opened his eyes, Will was standing there, watching him.
“I heard what Ruby said to you, how she provoked you,” Will said. “The thought of Astra with another man almost undid you.”
Richard shook his head, trying to clear away his confusion. Will had a point. Why should he care? Why should the thought of Astra being unfaithful anger him?
“You love her, Richard. You’re sick with it, out of your head.”
“That’s the wine.”
“You’re no better sober. Admit it. Admit that you love Astra.”
Richard leaned back against the rough wood of the tavern. Could Will’s words be true? Could he still love Astra, even after what she’d done to him? He’d told her that her deceit had destroyed all his fond feelings for her. But maybe he was wrong. His plans to punish Astra had all gone awry. Every taunt and cruel thing he said and did to her seemed to hurt him as much as it did her, until he felt as if he was bleeding to death from a dozen wounds. He would never forget the dread in her eyes on their wedding night, the tenderness on her face when she kissed him the morning after, the despair that made her weep at his feet. Every barb he aimed at her came back to haunt him. Was that love?
“Let’s go back to Westminster,” Will coaxed.
Slowly, he nodded.
* * *
The room was dark when Richard entered, and the curtains on the bed were pulled closed. His stiff cold fingers fumbled to undo his clothing. He could not forget how he had left her. Astra had offered herself to him, begged him to love her, and he had turned away, mocking her. The memory agonized him. Dear God, how he could possibly keep up this pretense that he hated her?
He pulled back the curtains. It was too dark to see, but he could hear her breathing and smell her faint female perfume. She lay there in her splendid beauty, offering him everything he wanted. And yet he must reject her, again and again. It was becoming impossible to keep his caresses cold and impersonal, to indulge his lust but reject her love. Her tears had tormented him, but no more than her tolerance of his anger. When she gazed at him with that aching look of love that promised acceptance and forgiveness of anything, he was undone. How could he fight an angel?
He eased slowly into the bed. It would be better if he did not wake her. She was a slippery, bedeviling foe, and he could not understand her. Any woman he had ever known would have begun to fight back by now, to wound him with words if naught else. They would have long since complained to the Queen and begged for release from their suffering. It was evidence of Astra’s amazing forbearance and selflessness that she had not done so. Her love made her protect him from the Queen’s wrath.
It was an amazing thing, and he had not known the like in his lifetime. Men could be loyal unto death, but women were weak, fickle creatures. Or so he thought before he met Astra. Now he wondered.
He shook off the mood with
a shudder. Next he would be thinking of children and planning a future with Astra. He was not ready for that. He had no way to keep a family, and no instinct for fatherhood. It would not be fair to curse a child as he had been cursed. He had been lucky so far, but he could not predict that he would not be killed in his next battle. Then how would Astra fare? She was as poor as him. She might be so naive as to trust the future and the benevolence of her friends, but he was not so foolish.
The winds of fortune swept across England every few years, making paupers of lords and destroying great families. There was no security, no future at all. It was madness to bring children into such a world. Born to toil and woe—the Scriptures said man was destined to such.
Richard closed his eyes and let the images come to him until his throat was choked with despair: the men in his mother’s bedchamber, the grunts and moans, the vacant look in his mother’s dark eyes, the bruises that sometimes marred her creamy skin.
At first he had been afraid, but then he grew older and knew shame, the taunts of the other boys, the condescending looks on the faces of the knights he served. They marked him for what he was: a bastard, a whore’s son. Gradually the shame had turned to rage. He lashed out—and was beaten. He had vowed that day to become so strong and fierce no man would ever defeat him again. He trained to be an awesome, intimidating knight, but even as he neared his goal, he learned that strength and battle prowess were not enough. Only land and wealth gave true power, protection from the cruel words and mockery of others.
It was then he set his sights on being rich. It did not seem like such an unreasonable dream. Plenty of men had risen high by winning battles for their king, plenty others had married well and found fortune that way. But always the goal eluded him. Henry was too dissolute and wavering to raise a lowly knight. The heiresses he pursued mistrusted his handsome face and winning smile. He came away empty-handed.
Now his dream seemed farther away than ever. He was saddled with a penniless, helpless wife who foolishly believed in rainbows and the Holy Church and the goodness of her fellow man. A woman so childlike that she actually imagined that love could survive in marriage, that loyalty and faithfulness were the natural way of things between a man and his wife. She likely expected him to never go to whores—even when he was away from her.
