“Isabelle,” he said, taking a few careful steps toward her. “I hope you have enjoyed your first day at Talwar. I am sorry if I have done…or said…anything to mar it.”
“I have enjoyed it very much. You have been so kind to me, my lord, just as your people have been. I have been sitting here wishing that my parents could have known the good man I have married. My mother was so worried before she died about what would become of Senet and me. How glad she would have been to know that Sir Justin Baldwin would make me his wife.” She lifted her face to him at last.
She was not beautiful in the way that women who were called beautiful were supposed to be. Her hair was not blond, her skin was not pale, her features and form were not delicate. She would never be able to affect the commonly approved imitation of the much-painted Virgin Mary, as both Alicia and Lady Evelyn were able to do. Nay, Isabelle was none of those things. Her hair was as black and gleaming as a raven’s wing, her skin was smooth, with the olive complexion that gave testament to her French heritage, her features were full and sensual, just as her figure was. Her eyes, set in the midst of all this, were so stunningly blue that he didn’t believe he would ever grow used to, or weary of, looking at them.
“I am sorry to be so foolish,” she whispered.
“You are not foolish. I also wish I could have met your parents. I wish I could have asked your father for his blessing on our marriage.”
She colored brightly and looked away. “That is a kind thing to say, my lord, but it is not necessary.”
She thought he only spoke out of kindness? If she had even the smallest idea of how glad he was to have her for his wife, she would know that he spoke the truth. And if she knew how much he desired her in that very moment, she would probably be rather afraid. Although not for long. It was the one sure confidence he had, that he knew how to make love to a woman. The whores at Briarstone had taught him well. But Isabelle was not simply a woman, she was also a virgin, and he had never bedded a virgin before. He tried to think back to his own first experience, to the daunting uncertainty and bewilderment. A memory of being teased by the women at Briarstone came to him—for, indeed, he had never had a woman until he went there to live—followed by the more pleasurable memory of what had come after the teasing. The women had taken their turns with him, each seeming softer and more delightful than the last By the time they finished, he’d been too exhausted to move, and too giddy with pleasure to remember the fears that had once possessed him. That was what he wanted to do to Isabelle, he thought. Make her giddy with pleasure.
He moved about the chamber slowly, putting out each candle with care, watching Isabelle as she followed his movement with wide eyes.
“You must tell me if you want me to stay, Isabelle,” he said as he neared the last candle.
“My lord?” Her voice was breathless, trembling.
“Do you want me to stay with you this night?” he asked, walking to her on silent, bare feet. The chamber was lit only by the flames in the hearth, causing the room’s shadows to jump and dance. “Are you ready to become my wife?”
He held out his hand, and she put her own in it, letting him pull her to her feet.
“I thought…once we had reached Talwar…you said that we would…”
He set his hands at her waist, feeling how stiff and tense she was through the thin material of her nightdress. “I said that you would become my wife when we were at Talwar,” he murmured, sliding his hands slowly downward, to her hips, and back up again, rubbing the cloth against her skin. Lowering his mouth, he placed a gentle kiss beneath her ear and pulled her body closer to his own, almost, but not quite, touching. “And when you wished it.” His lips caressed the shell of her ear, softly tickling her with his warm breath as he spoke. “And only then, Isabelle.” He kissed her ear with tender care, feeling a shiver run through her, hearing the small moan that escaped her lips. She pressed against him of her own accord, seeking instinctively the contact that he knew her body craved. His hands slid even lower, answering, curving slowly over her buttocks, lifting and pressing her more tightly against himself. She was warm and soft, moving against him in an awkward manner that bespoke her innocence, arousing Justin in a way that no more skillful touch could do.
“Will you become my wife, Isabelle?” he whispered, searching for her mouth. “Tell me.”
“Aye.” Her arms crept upward to curl about his neck, and she lifted her face to meet his kiss. “Aye, my lord.”
The soldier’s quarters were large and cool, built to house many more than the five young men who presently occupied one of the several sleeping chambers. One day, they all believed, when Talwar was a great estate, these chambers would be filled with fighting men—the army of Talwar—and they, having been the first among them, would hold places of honor. For now, the boys enjoyed the pleasure of living in the great stone keep and not having to share their privacy, even with their master.
“Well,” Kayne said into the dark silence, as they lay on their pallets. “What do you think of her?”
Nobody needed to ask who “her” was.
“She’s a surprise,” Aric said stonily. “And she’s not the one he went to get, that Lady Evelyn his brother wrote him about.”
“I never thought he’d be so happy to wed,” John said. “Not after what the other one did to him.”
“He was full angered when he left for London,” Ralf agreed. “But he came back smiling. I hope she won’t change anything.”
“I hope she won’t change him,” Kayne said vehemently. “Don’t know what he needs a wife for, anyway. He’s got us, hasn’t he?”
“She’s nice,” Neddy’s smaller voice put in.
Chuckling, John turned on his side. “You’re just missing your mother, is what, Neddy. Any lady will do for that.”
“Not for our mother,” Ralf returned hotly. “And he’s right. Lady Isabelle is nice. I’m glad Sir Justin married her and brought her here.”
“He could’ve had anybody,” Kayne said. “Why do you think he chose her? She’s not really even beautiful.”
“I think she is,” Aric said without shame.
“She reminds Aric of his mother, I’ll vow,” John said, laughing again. “Dark-haired alike, aren’t they?”
“Idiot.” Aric tossed his pillow at him. “Stop talking about mothers. You didn’t even know yours.”
“Leave him be,” Kayne told him sharply. “I’ve told you before about that.”
“He’s obsessed with mothers,” Aric muttered, standing up to retrieve his pillow. John lay still and silent as the older boy plucked it away. “And Lady Isabelle is beautiful. Any fool could see it, whether they had a mother or not.”
“She’s not in the common way, I should have said,” Kayne admitted. “But ‘tis clear that Sir Justin finds her comely enough. Did you see how he looked at her throughout the meal?”
“Aye,” Ralf said. “He had no mind for his food, s’truth. He seemed…besotted.”
A silence followed this, as each of the boys thought on how their master’s newly married state would affect them.
“We must wait and see what happens,” Kayne said at last. “It may be that ‘twill pass, like some sickness, and all will be as it ever has been. We have known Sir Justin a long while—longer than she has—and he wouldn’t abandon us for a mere woman. All will be well.”
“Aye,” John said quietly.
“No matter what does happen,” Kayne added. “I charge each of you to treat Lady Isabelle with all courtesy and due accord, as Sir Justin has taught us is right. We will abide by the code of chivalry.”
“You don’t need to tell us,” Aric said angrily. “We know how to treat a lady, especially Sir Justin’s wife.”
“See that you do, then,” Kayne warned. “For if any man among you fails, he will not only meet Sir Justin’s anger, but mine, as well.”
In Isabelle’s chamber, the lord of Talwar and his new wife lay together in the bed they shared, shaking with unrepentant lau
ghter.
“But what did you mean by it, Isabelle?” Justin managed to ask, lifting himself up on his elbows. One look at Isabelle’s wide grin sent both of them back into laughter, and he collapsed on top of her, helpless to stop.
“Oh, my lord!” she gasped after they’d calmed. “You’re crushing me.”
“Forgive me,” he said, chuckling and rolling to his side. “God save me.” He wiped his eyes and smiled at her in the darkness. “Never, in all my life…” he began, but renewed laughter brought the words to an end. Still laughing, he threw the covers aside and, naked, went to wet a cloth in a nearby basin. Isabelle was still grinning when he returned to the bed, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
“You said I’d enjoy it,” she teased, “but I didn’t expect that you meant this much.”
He chuckled and sat beside her, pushing the covers aside to reveal his wife’s lovely, unclothed body. “Ah, Isabelle,” he said, leaning down to kiss her smiling mouth. “You are a jewel, and priceless. I have never in my life laughed so hard. We must be crazed, the pair of us.” He kissed her again, gently and thoroughly, then pressed his forehead against hers and gazed into her eyes. “Did I hurt you very much, little one?”
“You know full well you did.” She began to giggle, and Justin felt more laughter rising in his own throat.
“We are crazed,” he said, sitting up with the cloth in his hand. “It shouldn’t be funny. Let me wash the blood from you, beloved.”
Isabelle clamped her legs together and said, with sudden embarrassment, “Oh, nay, my lord!”
With one hand, he gently persuaded her legs apart. “’Twill not hurt, I vow. Let me care for you, little one. I am your husband in full now.” He bent and placed a quick kiss on her belly, then grinned up at her when she gasped. “There is no longer any need to be shy. I have seen all of you, and you have seen all of me, and we are very beautiful together. There, is it not soothing?” He carefully pressed the cloth upon her. “I am sorry to have hurt you. I have no experience with virgins, but I think you must have been very well fortified, Isabelle.”
“Very…” she began, giggling, “very English.”
It was what she had said when he was in the midst of making her his wife, and when the barrier of her maidenhead proved to be much more difficult to breach than either of them had expected. What had begun for Isabelle as the most shockingly pleasant experience of her life— with her husband’s patient, gentle lovemaking discovering something in her nature that Isabelle could only think of as a hitherto-dormant, and French, passion—had become something altogether different when his several attempts to bind them together were frustrating for him and painful for her. Overtaken by tears and agony, afraid she was disappointing Justin past tolerance, she’d made an apology, telling him that she was sorry to be so very English. A moment later, her maidenhead had given way, and a few long moments after that, Justin had taken away all thoughts of pain. It was only after, as they lay together, damp and exhausted, that he began to laugh, and had asked her what she’d meant by the words. The foolishness of it made her laugh, too, and that had made him laugh even harder. Soon they’d been rolling with amusement, laughing uncontrollably.
Finishing his gentle ministrations, he tossed the cloth on the floor and crawled up over Isabelle, pulling her with him until they lay side by side, facing each other, snuggled beneath the covers.
“Isabelle.” He said her name with a sigh, nuzzling the soft skin at the base of her neck and caressing her back with his fingers. “It will never be painful again, I vow. We shall have only goodness in our marriage bed.” He kissed her mouth, tasting and teasing with slow strokes of his tongue. “No woman has ever given me as much pleasure as you have done this night,” he murmured. “Did you find it agreeable?”
“Aye,” she whispered, tentatively touching his chest, feeling how hot his skin was, how hard his muscles. “You are so beautiful, my lord.”
He made a low, growling sound in reply, his dark head traveling downward beneath the covers, to her breasts.
“I am so glad,” she said, gasping as she felt his mouth on her body, “so glad that you stole me for your wife.”
“But I love you!” Isabelle sat up with a start, panicked and confused, gulping down great mouthfuls of air. Several moments passed before she realized where she was—at Talwar, in her new bedchamber, naked and in her new bed. She felt for Justin and found only the warm place beside her where he had earlier fallen asleep.
“And you are very dear to me, also, Birgitte. Indeed, more than dear, for you have been so good to me—”
“Because I love you, my lord. Please don’t send me away. Please. Please.”
Sobs followed this. Horrible, pain-filled sobs.
“I have a wife now, Birgitte, and I have vowed before God to be faithful to her, to keep myself only to her. If you will stay at Talwar, you must understand and accept this.”
“You don’t want her,” Birgitte cried tearfully. “You can’t want her. She’s ugly and stupid! She won’t know how to please you as I do. Please, my lord! Let me stay! I’ll do whatever you ask of me. Everything I know that you like.”
“Nay, and I will not have you speaking thusly of your lady—”
“It’s the truth! You’re just too kind to speak it. Oh, please, my lord. Please. I know you want me. If not tonight, then tomorrow. Or the next day. Or next week.”
“Never,” he said gently. “Put on your clothes and go. In the morn you will return to Briarstone with Sir Christian.”
Birgitte burst into even louder tears. “You can’t send me away!” she wailed.
“It would be best,” he said patiently. “You have been very good to me this past year, Birgitte, and I will not cease to be thankful, but you must go. I will share a bed now with no other woman but my wife. That is the way it will be.”
“But I’m with child, my lord. With your child!”
Hearing the words, Isabelle squeezed her eyes shut and set a hand to her mouth.
There was silence, save for Birgitte’s woeful weeping, until Justin said, “If you are with child, then it is most likely not by me. You are aware that I have taken every care against such as that occurring. Howbeit,” he went on quickly when she began to wail again, “if you are, I will recognize and support the babe. If you are not, I will yet continue to support you, even for the remainder of your life. You have naught to fear, Birgitte. I shall take good care of you, and you shall want for nothing.”
“But—”
Isabelle could hear his chamber door opening.
“All will be well, little one, and you know that Sir Christian will keep you safe and happy at Briarstone. Lady Isabelle and I will see you in the morn to bid you God speed. Good night, Birgitte.”
There was the sound of a swift kiss, and then of the chamber door closing. Isabelle pulled her legs up to her chest and dropped her head forward to rest it on her knees.
Justin could hear Birgitte weeping as she walked away down the hall, even through the closed door, and he released a long breath. He regretted hurting the girl, but it seemed impossible to keep from doing so. She was a sweet, beautiful and sometimes foolish creature who would someday make another man an enchanting wife. But not him. He needed an entirely different sort of woman, and had been fortunate enough to find one. A woman who not only was beautiful and kind, but who would be the companion he had forever dreamed of having.
Isabelle.
The thought that she had heard what had taken place filled him with dread, and he walked noiselessly to the adjoining door. She was sitting up in the bed, huddled with her head upon her knees. He thought perhaps she must be crying, although she made no sound.
“Isabelle.”
She lifted her head to look at him.
With a sigh, he crossed the chamber and sat on the bed, straining to see her face in the darkness.
“I would have spared you this, if I could have done so. Birgitte has been my leman, on occasion, for the past year. I have n
o excuse, save that I was not wed nor had any intention to wed. If I had, I pray you will believe that I would not have kept the girl here.”
“You do not have to explain the matter to me, my lord,” she whispered, her voice so small that his heart ached for having caused her pain. “I knew that you were not…without experience. And it is an acceptable practice among men, is it not? My uncle has a leman. Her name is Bertilde, and I paid her debts and sent her an allowance every quarter. I will do the same for Birgitte, if you wish it.”
“By the rood,” Justin muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes and thinking that Sir Myles deserved to be drawn and quartered for the contemptible care he had given his niece. “I would never ask you to do such a thing. Never. Isabelle…” He said her name with a groan. “I don’t know how to make this better. What to say to you to keep you from pain. I didn’t know that I would be getting married. And when I did know—when I received the missive from my brother about Lady Evelyn—I no longer shared my bed with Birgitte. For more than a month, until tonight, there has been no one. I have touched no other woman but you.” He searched through the bedclothes for her hand, and grasped it tightly. “For all of our married life, I vow, I will never touch any other woman but you. It is the truth I speak to you, Isabelle, and I ask that you will believe me.”
“I believe you.”
She said the words, but he wondered if she really meant them. If he had discovered that she’d kept a lover for a year before their marriage, he would have been inconsolably desolate.
“What about the child, my lord?”
“The child?”
Susan Spencer Paul Page 10
