Forbidden Love

by Maura Seger

  Only a few days before, the new King's court had received another, more direct warning about the futility of challenging the implacable Earl of Hereford. Having been given an opportunity to wind up his affairs in England, Montague FitzStephen departed in disgrace, carrying with him the promise that if he ever set foot in the realm again his life was forfeit.

  Since there was not a man anywhere who would support him after his disgraceful attempt to steal Colin's victory, he was unlikely ever to be stupid enough to return. Stripped of his wealth and rank, FirzStephen was little more than a broken shell Roanna could almost, but not quite, pity him.

  Putting aside all thought of the hapless Norman, she accompanied Margaret downstairs to where the bridegroom waited with his boisterous friends. The two greeted each other self-consciously. Alaric's gaze was infinitely gentle as he took his lady's hand. Together they stepped outside to greet the arriving King.

  Standing beside Colin, Roanna watched as the royal entourage approached. Since this was one of the few times he had left his stronghold for purely peaceful purposes, William was determined to put on a good show. Banners flew and trumpets blared, caparisoned horses pranced smartly, and row upon row of lords and knights lent a festive air to the usually drab city streets.

  The crowd lining the King's route cheered wildly. For too long, London had been denied the pleasure of such a regal spectacle. Old King Edward, though his memory was revered, had been far too pious to indulge in such displays. And Harold had hardly had the chance during his brief, tumultuous reign. It was left to William to restore to the people their sense of pomp and pageantry.

  Convinced at last that he truly wanted an accord with them, their delight was unrestrained. For the first time, William heard English voices raised in his tribute. The sound elated him. He was smiling broadly as he dismounted before the Algerson residence.

  "Quite a turnout," he exclaimed to Colin. "I had no idea the people could be so enthusiastic."

  The earl smiled drily. "All they needed was a chance, my lord Alaric and Margaret have been kind enough to provide it"

  William glanced at him understandingly. Both men knew full well it was not the wedding the people cheered. They might be glad enough of the couple's happiness, but it was their own great joy in the vastly improved state of affairs that sparked their welcome.

  Nodding silently, the King turned to greet his hostess. A soft sigh escaped him as he drank in the sight of her beauty. He missed his wife terribly and hoped they would soon be reunited.

  Some glimmer of his longing reached Roanna. She made a special effort to make him feel at home as they entered the great hall garlanded with bridal wreaths and lit by dozens of tall, white candles.

  "You are a lucky man," William told his newest earl "Your lady is not only remarkably lovely, but she possesses rare strength and grace." More softly, he added, "I can well comprehend why you guard her so fiercely."

  Colin graciously accepted what he knew to be a sincere compliment "Thank you, my lord. But in all truthfulness, I will be glad to take her home to Hereford. London palls on us both."

  "I share the sentiment," William admitted, "despite today's showing. Being shut up inside city walls is no way to live."

  Talking of the pleasures of country life, the two men proceeded to the chapel where Alaric and Margaret would be wed. Only a few of the guests, those who would fit inside the small chamber, followed them. The rest were content to wait in the great hall, where kegs of ale and wine had already been opened and the drink flowed freely.

  Odo had been asked to bless the union. Highly pleased by the invitation, he had been reluctant to admit that in his twelve years as a bishop he had never performed a marriage and was in fact unfamiliar with the rite. A quick study of the prayer book borrowed from a young priest who managed to hide his surprise at his superior's ignorance sufficed to make him sufficiently eloquent.

  Whatever the prelate lacked in piety he more than made up for with thoroughness. Having gotten through the mass with only a few pauses to consult the missive held up by an assistant, he blessed the couple and admonished them to cleave together in loving fidelity all their lives.

  "Marriage," Odo reminded everyone firmly, "is a holy state endowed by God for the comfort of souls and the procreation of children." It was not to be entered into lightly or, as was regrettably too often the case, for material gain.

  The silver-tongued bishop did such a convincing job of expressing her own feelings about the beauty and meaning of matrimony that Roanna found herself wondering how she had ever believed him capable of leading anyone astray. Not a trace of the unbridled sensualist showed in his somber features as he joined the bridal couple's hands and announced them wed.

  The congratulations afterward were as much for Odo as for Alaric and Margaret. He had given a superb performance, which his audience, knowing him as well as they did, was fully able to appreciate. Still marveling over his magnificent delivery, the guests followed their host and hostess, their liege lord, and the new couple into the hall.

  Their arrival was greeted with jovial shouts as the celebration got underway in earnest. From his seat at the high table, William rose to announce he wished to honor the marriage with a gift. Handing a document bearing the royal seal to Alaric, he declared that henceforth all the lands and property in Norfolk that had belonged to his wife and her family were restored. The news brought especial joy to Margaret's eldest son, who fairly beamed with delight as his stepfather, after thanking the King, asked the young man if he would be so kind as to manage the estate, which would now one day be his.

  No one in the hall was so naive as to think this meant all Anglo-Saxon claims would be upheld. But it was an indication that William would at least be fair in his judgments, and as such it gave hope to all.

  Through the long, enthusiastic merrymaking which followed, Roanna was surprised to discover she had little appetite. The seemingly endless parade of dishes carried from the kitchen made her feel slightly queasy. Only the blandest offerings were at all tolerable to her, and she could eat little even of them.

  Far from detracting from her pleasure in the event, this further proof of her most cherished hope only made her all the happier. Colin, noticing her lack of appetite, looked at her with concern. The beaming smile she gave him made him blink, so joyful was it Reassured that she must be fine, he nonetheless kept a careful eye on her throughout the remainder of the meal.

  Very sensibly, Margaret had claimed one of the few privileges of age and insisted she could do without any bedding ceremony. She and Alaric simply contrived to slip away unnoticed as a troupe of acrobats distracted the company. When their absence was noted, there were some goodnatured complaints from the guests, who hated to be cheated out of any excuse for ribald jokes and suggestions. But with the food and drink more than making up for arty lack, the revelries quickly resumed. It was well past midnight before the last amply fed, tipsy lord stumbled to his horse and took his leave.

  Even then, Roanna's tasks were not complete. She checked to make sure all the fires were safely banked, the candles snuffed and torches gutted, and the remnants of the feast removed so as not to attract vermin. Not until the last servant was abed did she retire to seek her own rest

  Upstairs in the family quarters, it was very quiet Only a faint light shone from the room she shared with Colin. Opening the door softly, Roanna had to bite back a peal of laughter. Caught in the act of relaxing in a tub of steaming hot water, her lord looked up in dismay, only to settle back promptly when he realized who was at the door.

  In the dim candlelight of the chamber, his skin glowed like polished bronze. Thick coppery curls clung to his massive chest. His freshly washed hair hung damply around his broad shoulders. A long, pointed moustache framed the sensual mouth that was drawn in a far tighter line than usual.

  "I thought it might be one of the servants," he admitted ruefully. "Wouldn't do to let them know I'm still hurting."

  Roanna nodded understanding. Her br
ow furled as she took in the lingering evidence of his struggle with FitzStephen. Livid bruises marred the smooth bronze expanse of his shoulders and arms. Angry abrasions shone along his furried chest and powerful thighs. He moved gingerly, owing to the strain of pulled muscle and sinew. Before everyone else, he felt compelled to hide his discomfort and maintain an indomitable air. But with her he could let down his guard and admit that the contest had cost him dear. Neither, had to point out that but for his vast strength and agility, the price would have been far higher.

  Kneeling beside the tub, Roanna reached for the small keg of soap. Gently, she massaged his corded back, arms, and chest. Her hands lingered on each bulging muscle and flat, hard plane. Colin's eyes drifted closed as a soft sigh of contentment escaped him. But his sense of ease turned to something very different as Roanna's soft, skillful touch drifted down his flat abdomen toward the thick nest of hair where his burgeoning manhood lay.

  Her breath became tight and rapid as she stroked his steely thighs before rubbing lather over his heavily muscled calves and long, slender feet Cupping handfuls of water, she rinsed him carefully, heedless of the fact that her snug-fitting tunic was splashed in the process. By the time she finished, her nipples shone tautly through the thin fabric.

  Shakily, she held out a towel for Colin. He stepped from the tub, streams of water flowing off his huge, supremely male body. His molten silver gaze locked on her as Roanna reached up to dry his head. The motion further strained the silk over her high, pouting breasts. He could clearly see the outline of hardened peaks surrounded by generous aureoles, whose velvet smoothness beckoned his touch.

  Though he bent over to give her easier access, she still had to stand on tiptoe to reach him. Briskly drying his hair, Roanna continued on to brush the clinging droplets from his shoulders and chest But before she got more than midway down his torso, Colin's big hands seized hers.

  "Enough, my lady," he growled. "The heat you've sparked will dry me from within!"

  Laughing throatily, she allowed the towel to be taken from her. It was tossed forgotten in a corner of the room as Colin reached for his wife. Arching her back over his arm, he gently nuzzled her breasts before his mouth closed on a straining nipple. Through the thin fabric, his tongue flicked over it again and again.

  Roanna moaned helplessly. Her hands clung to his massive shoulders as waves of pleasure rippled through her. When he at last raised his head, she was panting and her heart slammed painfully against her ribs. Determined that she would not be the only one to feel such acute pleasure, she straightened against him. A soft, teasing smile curved her lips as she brushed them lingeringly against his. For just a moment, their eyes met Colin's gaze held a challenge she could not resist

  Trailing scalding kisses down the long expanse of his chest Roanna slowly sank to her knees before him. Her small hands kneaded and stroked the hard contours of his thighs and buttocks. Not until she had wrung a groan of desperate need from him did her petal-soft fingertips at last brush against the pulsating fullness of his manhood.

  Drawing out her own anticipation to the utmost her soft pink tongue slowly followed the path of her touch. Colin's big hands tangled in her hair as he trembled convulsively. Only after she had fully savored him did Roanna finally allow herself to be drawn upward into her husband's arms.

  The damp tunic was swiftly stripped away. Her skin shone against his darkness like cream sweetened by the faintest drop of honey. Laid on the bed, she welcomed him joyfully. Colin delayed only long enough to be sure she was ready for him before bringing them together in a tumultuous explosion of pleasure that sent shards of white-hot rapture tearing through both.

  With the first shattering burst of passion eased, they were free to explore each other at length. Roanna was almost mindless with joy before Colin drew her to him again. Thrusting deep within her, he drove them both to soaring fulfillment.

  Much later, lying with her husband's burnished head against her breast Roanna smiled softly. When they had first begun to make love, she had thought to tell him of the child and to ask him to take special care. But her intention was lost in the firestorm of her own need, and at any rate it had not been necessary. Colin was far too gentle and loving a man ever to harm her even inadvertently.

  Her smile deepened as she stroked the rough silk of his hair. There was time enough to tell him of the baby later. Joy and a deep sense of peace filled her as she at last allowed herself to believe that for them there would be time for everything.

  Epilogue

  "There must be something we can do," Colin insisted. "She can't just go on suffering like this."

  Brenna touched his arm gently. "You know there's nothing to be worried about Roanna is strong and healthy, and the birth is proceeding rapidly. Your son—or daughter—will be here quite soon."

  "You said that an hour ago," he reminded her tightly.

  Nodding patiently, she reassured him yet again. "It won't be much longer now."

  A soft moan came from the bed, claiming their attention. Roanna's face was pale. Tendrils of damp hair clung to her forehead. Her amber eyes were shadowy with pain, but they nonetheless shone with determination.

  "Listen to Brenna, she said firmly. "I'm fine."

  Colin took her hand in his, holding it as though he was afraid she might break. "It's been going on so long."

  A slight smile curved her mouth. "It only seems that way. Nothing really started until this morning."

  He nodded morosely. Throughout the previous night, she had been troubled by occasional aches and a growing feeling of pressure in her burdened belly. Colin had piled pillows behind her, rubbed her back, and talked to her soothingly. He was as anxious as she for their child to be born, but the knowledge that she had to suffer to bring it forth tormented him.

  When the new day's light at last began to reveal the early spring landscape, her labor started in earnest He had hastily summoned Brenna, who had arrived the week before to help care for her sister-in-law. She took charge immediately, summoning servants with fresh linens and hot water and doing her best to convince Colin he should go downstairs. But he would have none of it stubbornly remaining at his wife's side. Acknowledging that he had as much skill at healing as she did herself, Brenna relented. Together they made Roanna as comfortable as possible and settled down to wait

  Or at least, the two women remained calm in the face of what gave every appearance of being a perfectly normal delivery. The knowledge that there were no apparent problems did not reassure Colin at all. He alternated between sitting anxiously beside Roanna watching her every move and pacing the room in increasing frustration, until Brenna seriously considered asking Guyon to knock him over the head and drag him away.

  Only the memory of her own delivery a few months before stopped her. Guyon had not behaved any differently from Colin. Having missed the birth of their first child, he had insisted on remaining at her side through every moment. Fortunately, this baby came much more easily. So quickly that she could hardly believe it, Brenna had found herself holding a beautiful little daughter. Guyon, however, had not appreciated the swiftness of her labor. He had gone around for days horrified by her suffering and had required great persuading after she healed to resume their intimacy.

  Throughout the long afternoon, Roanna's increasingly anguished moans had mingled with the sharp ring of hammers against stone and the shouts of men working on the castle construction. Like Guyon, Colin was building himself an impenetrable fortress that would dominate the countryside for miles around. Though neither man was concerned any longer about Norman raiders, both their holdings were too close to the Welsh border to take security for granted.

  Thinking of her husband, Brenna hoped he had found some way to distract himself, perhaps with little Alain and Meri, who were an endless source of fascination to their doting father. But she knew nothing could really take his mind from the chamber where his sister labored to bring forth their child.

  "You're doing fine," Brenna told her ge
ntly, mopping the perspiration from her brow.

  Roanna smiled faintly. Caught in the throes of yet another contraction, she could not speak. The torches lit hours before against the late night darkness shone on her strained features. Colin held her hand rightly as pain tore through her. When it was over, she lay panting. All too soon the agony struck again. Her back arched in a frantic effort to throw off the torment as a scream broke from her.

  "Quickly," Brenna ordered, "it's almost time."

  Ashen-faced, Colin obeyed. Taking her place at the foot of the bed, he was infinitely relieved to see that the child was indeed about to be born. "Just once more," he urged huskily. "Push, Roanna, push!"

  Strengthened by his voice, she summoned all her energy to expel the child. Another tearing pain ripped through her, but she was suddenly almost unaware of her own suffering. With Brenna helping to hold her up, she could see Colin's face. His rugged features were suffused with wonder and overwhelming tenderness.

  As he glanced up, their gazes met. An adoring smile lit his eyes before he quickly looked back down. "Almost there, my love. Push . . . that's it. . . again. . . . Good!" With infinite care, Colin reached forward to receive his son, who slid long and perfectly formed into his father's hands.

  Roanna fell back against the pillows. Exhausted, she could only stare in astonishment as Brenna rapidly cut the cord and cleaned the child before wrapping him in a soft blanket

  Once the afterbirth was safely released and the bleeding stopped, Colin gently removed the stained linen from beneath Roanna, washed her, and slipped her into a warm sleeping robe. His hand shook slightly as he filled a cup with nourishing broth into which he had mixed herbs to ease her soreness. He held it as Roanna sipped, noting gratefully that much of her normal color had already returned.