by Ruth Kaufman
“We are married, Echo, like it or nay. We have to kiss or they will all think something is amiss.”
Something was amiss indeed, and it wasn’t just their deceitful story. She had no idea if he was telling the truth, but as nervous as she felt, she wanted to kiss him. Without waiting, she reached out and pulled his head to her, plastering her mouth to his in one hell of a kiss. The crowd cheered wildly, and when she pulled away, he was looking at her and grinning.
“If that’s a simple kiss, I can’t wait to see what you do in bed.”
He didn’t give her a second to respond, as he leaned forward and this time gently placed his lips on hers, in a kiss that warmed her to her toes. The crowd continued to cheer. She got lost in the moment, and closed her eyes, tilting back her head as he kissed her yet again.
His male musk filled her senses, and she breathed in the scent of a powerful man. His essence called out to hers, making her own power feel muted under his touch. She was his wife, and the idea at first infuriated her. But after hearing from Lady Eirian how everyone in the manor admired and respected him, she’d had second thoughts. The conflict inside twisted at her gut as she sat here pretending to be a lady but knowing ’twas all a lie.
She felt her resolve melting as he kissed her thrice, and this time he slipped his tongue into her mouth, making her pull away in surprise.
“That’s only a promise of what’s to come,” he whispered, and she felt herself liven between her thighs. What would happen when he took her to his wedding bed? Would she be able to fulfill her wifely duty – or would she even want to?
“Mama,” she heard a voice from the other side of the room, and looked up to see her son, Edgar with Lady Perdita.
“Edgar!” Her son ran to her and up the dais and she picked him up and hugged him.
“Did ye have a good time playin’ with the other children?”
“I played Queek,” he said.
“Queek?” she asked.
“A game where they throw rocks,” Garrett explained.
“Sounds like what we did on the ship,” she said.
“And we played with wooden swords.”
“Aye, no different than what we did at all – not really.”
“I like havin’ friends.”
Her heart went out to him, and she knew now that Garrett was right in sending him to play with the other children. That was what was missing in her son’s life, and she needed to make up for all the times she didn’t give him what a child needed.
“I’m sorry, my lady. I will take him back to the table now,” said Lady Perdita, taking Edgar from her hold. She thought he was going to object, but he had a smile on his face and went willingly, sitting back down next to his new little friend, Tristan.
“Most boys are fostered at the early age of six or seven,” Garrett told her. “It ensures good alliances with other lands as well as makes the boy a man faster, being taught by others besides his father.”
“Is thet what ye plan on doin’? Sending him away?” she asked.
“He is only four,” he pointed out. “I have not had any time to get to know him yet. I am not planning on sending him anywhere. Now drink from the wedding cup with me, dear wife. I would be using my golden chalice for this special occasion, but you seemed to be busy tossing it in the air earlier. I only hope ’tis still in my solar when I return.”
“Well, my lord husband, I can’t believe ye’d think I’d pilfer the gaudy thing. Now let’s eat, I am starved.” She made a mental note to take the chalice she’d hidden under the mattress and put it back on his mantle where she’d found it, before he noticed.
Garrett drank from the wedding cup and then held it up to her mouth to drink. She tasted the sweet wine, liking the flavor, although it tasted naught like her usual drink of rum.
“I like it,” she said, and Garrett held it out for the cupbearer to refill. He placed it down on the table, and she picked it up and chugged it down, holding it out just as he had. The boy looked at her strangely and filled it again. But before she could drink more, Garrett removed it from her hand and placed it out of her reach at his other side.
“A lady is refined, and sips her wine rather than guzzles it in one gulp.”
“Am I to be taught a lesson every time I do anythin’?” she asked.
“We wouldn’t want anyone getting suspicious, now would we?” he asked softly. “The more you act like a lady, the less chance of Gar being taken from us.”
“Edgar, not Gar,” she ground out, “and fine. I will learn to be a lady but only te ensure my son’s safety.”
“Good,” he said. “Now, let me explain the meal. The brown bread in front of us is called a trencher.”
She picked it up and took a bite. It was very hard and difficult to chew. She gnawed at it anyway, being used to the leather served aboard the Seahawk. He took it from her, and placed it back down.
She threw her hands up in the air. “What? A prayer to the gods of the grain, or am I to wash my hands after every bite?”
He chuckled, and she liked the sultry look of his eyes when they glimmered, and the way his mouth turned up more on the side of his face without the scar, showing his straight, white teeth.
“There are no gods of the grain, and your hands are fine. We are to share the trencher,” he explained.
“Oh. Go ahead and take your bite then,” she said. “It tastes a lot like hardtack, ’tis not bad atall.”
“Echo, you don’t eat the trencher. ’Tis but a vessel to hold our food.”
“Why waste good food?” she asked.
“’Tis not wasted. ’Tis given to the beggars or the dogs when we are finished with the meal.”
“Beggars? Dogs?” she asked. “That’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“This is the meal,” he said, showing her the food laid out before them. She was used to fish, but these platters contained meats of which she was not familiar. She reached for a cut of meat and tore off a bite with her teeth. Garrett was drinking from the cup, and almost choked when he noticed what she’d done. He looked around quickly then guided her hand holding the meat to the trencher, taking a cloth and wiping her fingers.
“The hands again?” she asked, exasperated, thinking she’d never get anything to eat today with all these silly rules.
“You have an eating knife on the table, now keep it at your side every time you come for a meal. You use it for cutting, instead of ripping the meat with your teeth. And there is also a spoon should you need it.”
“I don’t see a need for it,” she said smugly.
“God’s eyes, wife,” he whispered, “start eating more like a lady and less like a pirate.”
“No one would ever think I’m a pirate,” she whispered back.
Just then a page set something down on the table between them and then walked away.
“Oh no?” he asked, looking down.
She gasped. In front of her was a huge ornate . . . pirate ship. The tall metal piece reminded her of a golden chalice, but the bowl at the bottom was the hull of a ship. A tall mast shot up from the center, and dainty thin metal pieces made up the rigging and even the lookout basket at the top.
“They know!” she exclaimed.
He laughed at her again. “Nay, ’tis the saltcellar, but very appropriate, wouldn’t you say?”
She looked closer and realized ’twas just as he’d said. The large vessel was filled with precious salt.
“Take it away from here,” she said, pushing it toward him. “Can’t we put it back in the kitchen?”
“Nay,” he said. “We are nobility, and only the head dais table is allowed to use this salt. And if you’d like some, use your knife and not your fingers, please.”
She sighed, and told herself she wouldn’t be caught dead dipping her knife, or her fingers into the pirate ship. She would do without salt.
The meal consisted of many things she’d never tasted before, and Garrett was inclined to tell her about every one.
> Veal in black pepper sauce, roasted rabbit with rosemary and sage, and whiting with a spiced wine sauce with crispy fried herbed bread cubes, were among them.
Course after course the food came, and ’twas more food in one meal than they’d eaten for a week aboard the Seahawk. Her favorite, by all means, was the candied fruit, or sweetmeats, and currant cakes. To her, this was an elaborate treat.
The minstrels came by and struck up a tune, one of them leaning over the table, his lute so close to her food that it became annoying.
“Shove off,” she told him brushing him away with her hand. She’d been trying to use the spoon and eating knife like Garrett instructed, but she was hungry and it was taking much too long.
Finally, she took the knife and stabbed it into a hunk of veal and brought it to her mouth, ripping off a piece with her teeth. Then, reaching over Garrett, she grabbed the cup and downed the wine. Banging it on the table, she nodded for the cupbearer to fill it again.
The music suddenly stopped. And when she looked up, every eye in the place was on her. Especially Garrett’s eyes.
“What?” she asked. “I am using my knife as you suggested.” Then, out of habit from living with a ship of ill-mannered men, she belched.
Garrett sat motionless, listening to the sound coming from Echo’s mouth, bouncing off the walls of the great hall. There was no way anyone missed it. They were already sitting in stunned silence after she’d told the minstrel to shove off, and stabbed a hunk of meat meant to be sliced for the entire table with her knife, and gnawed on it like an underfed dog.
The silence was broken by the laughter of Edgar from across the hall, and then the laughing of everyone else from the nobles to the servants to even Father Gabriel himself. Garrett felt a heat of embarrassment engulf him, and then the anger rising within him. He was sure his face was bright red from the restraint he was using not to kill her right now.
“I think we are finished now, wife,” he said in a low voice.
“I’m still hungry,” she said, chewing with her mouth open. She went to take another bite, but he pulled the food from her hand and guided her to a standing position. With his hand grasping her arm tightly, he led her away from the table and down the dais stairs.
“Wait,” she said. “My eating knife is still on the table. You told me to keep it with me.”
“You won’t need a knife my dear wife, but a prayer might be in order. Because when I get you in the privacy of the solar, there is no telling what I am going to do to you.”
To his dismay, the crowd overheard him, and several of them jumped to their feet to follow.
“He’s taking her to the wedding bed,” one shouted.
“Let’s go,” cried another.
“What are they talkin’ about?” she asked. “Why would they come to our chamber with us?”
“’Tis customary for the consummation of a marriage to be witnessed,” he explained.
“Witnessed? You mean they are goin’ to watch us couple?”
He dragged her down the hall to the solar with several of his men following close behind.
“Would that bother you, wife? After all, it seems to me this vulgar tradition would be high on your list of accomplishments. I am sure you’ve witnessed many of your father’s crew do it aboard the Seahawk.”
“I have not,” she said, turning to look back at the crowd gathering as they made their way to the solar. “There are no women on the ship, besides me.”
“And how many of them watched you couple with my brother?”
She reached out to slap him, but he anticipated her action and stopped her hand with a powerful hold.
“Not tonight, and in front of my men. You have embarrassed me enough, and I will not put up with any more of your antics.”
When she struggled with him again, he picked her up and swung her over his shoulder. She kicked, and hit her fists against his back, her gown wrapping around her legs as she tried to get out of his embrace.
With one powerful leg, he kicked open the door to the solar and entered. His men were right behind him.
“Out!” he said.
“But ’tis customary my lord,” came a complaint.
“Customary to make sure a virgin has been claimed. But we all know she is no virgin since she already has a child, so the entertainment is over. Now out I say, before I have you all lashed for disrespect.”
Sir Dwight and Sir Jacob herded the men from the room. With a kicking Echo upon his shoulder, Garrett slammed the door behind them, and slid the bar-hold across with a loud click.
He threw her down on the bed, the force knocking the air from her lungs.
Echo looked up to see the anger in Garrett’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong. She was trying hard to do everything he said was expected of a lady, so as not to uncover her true identity. But then everyone laughed at her, except Garrett who suddenly became quite angry.
“You have no idea what you even did, do you?” he ground out.
“Nay,” she said, pushing up on the bed. “I tried so hard to do everything you ordered, but I cannot seem te please ye. Well, I am done being subservient to a man, do ye hear me, I said I am done!”
His arms reached out for her, and at first she thought he was going to hit her. But instead, he pushed her back on the bed and laid one leg over her in a straddling position. He held her down by her shoulders and looked her in the eye.
“There is one way you will become subservient to a man, and I’m about to show you what I mean.”
His lips were upon hers, forceful at first. But when she did naught to fight him off, he loosened his grip and removed his mouth from hers.
“You’re not going to fight me?” he asked.
“Nay,” she said softly. “’Tis our wedding night, and though ye deprived me of a real ceremony, I will not be deprived of the act that consummates the fact we really are husband and wife.”
“Are you saying . . . you want to be my wife?”
“I am saying I want to feel what the other married couples feel.”
“You already have a child – you’ve felt this before.”
“That was not the same. I was young and curious, and as ye said yer brother most likely bedded me in order to gain power over me to convince me to help him escape. I had no feelings for him, nor did he have any for me.”
His face came closer, his long hair hanging down around her. “So you’re saying you have feelings for me?”
She felt his breath on her cheek and she anticipated his lips caressing hers. “I have eyes,” she said. “I saw the way ye looked at me tonight when I entered the hall dressed like a lady. I’d dare te guess ye have feelin’s fer me, though most of the time ye want te kill me.”
He didn’t agree nor disagree, but he didn’t need to. By the tenderness of his next kiss she knew he was no longer punishing her and showing her he was superior. This was a kiss that said he cared. It was filled with passion, not unyielding, domineering power.
She closed her eyes and brought her lips to his. Her body warmed with his atop hers. The excitement grew within her when she felt his arousal against her stomach.
“I don’t know what to do with you, Echo,” he whispered and kissed her again.
“I thought ye’d done this before,” she told him. “But if not, I can teach ye what little I know.”
“You are too precious, sweetheart. So rugged and yet so innocent all at the same time.”
He brought her to a sitting position, taking the metal circlet from her hair and laying it on the bedside table. He tried to remove her necklace next, but she stopped him with her hands on his.
“I never take this off.”
“All right,” he said. “You don’t need to.” He undid her braid and ran his fingers through her thick, lush, black hair. “Married women wear their hair up,” he said, “but I like yours down. So leave it this way.”
She liked it down as well, having always had to braid it and tuck it under her cap while
living on the ship. If not, the wind would destroy it. She felt free and pretty with it loose, and would keep it this way.
“Seeing you like this, it is hard to believe you are the same girl who tackled and fought me aboard the ship.” He ran his hand gently across her face.
“I can fight ye now if it’ll excite you,” she said.
He just smiled and removed the belt from her waist and turned her slightly as he undid each one of the ivory buttons down her back one by one. Her gown slipped from her shoulders and he looked at her in surprise.
“You wear no undergarments,” he said with a smile. “Did not your handmaiden instruct you what to wear beneath the gown?”
“I didn’t like the feel of them,” she said. “I told her I wanted to wear the gown only. ’Twas much softer than the chemise.”
This seemed to excite him even more. He laid her back gently and pulled the gown down, exposing her breasts. One more tug and her womanhood was exposed as well.
“No braies or hose either,” he said, looking like a hungry wolf.
“Nay,” she said, kicking off her leather slippers. He pulled the gown from her body, leaving her totally naked. “Are ye going to undress too or am I the only one required to do that at a marriage bed?”
“Undress me,” he urged her, his smile about driving her from her mind. When he wasn’t frowning or angry, he was alluring and very desirable indeed.
“Alright,” she said, getting to her knees and tugging at his belt first. Once released, he threw it to the side and waited, all the while devouring her with his eyes. She removed his surcoat and reached for the laces of his tunic next, and he grabbed her hands in his and kissed her hungrily upon the mouth. Then she raised the tunic over his head, reaching upward. Her breasts were right in front of his face.
She moaned when she felt the warmth of his mouth over one mound, and cried out when his tongue shot out and encircled her nipple. She felt herself go taut as he used his hands to caress her, playing with her and bringing her to peaks.
“My lord,” she said, sinking back down to her knees, unable to hold her own weight anymore from the shaking within her legs. She felt a wanting within her for this man, so strong she thought it would consume her.
