The Faithful Heart

by Merry Farmer

  “Yes, my lord,” Tom snapped straight and bowed to Crispin. “You can count on me.”

  “I’m sure I can.” Crispin nodded in return and thumped him on the shoulder. “The rest of us should get going.” He sent Madeline a knowing glance before striding off to mount his horse.

  This time Jack caught the communication between them. “Oy, what’s that all about?”

  Madeline grabbed his hand, shaking her head and rushing him to the nearest horse. “I’ll tell you later.”

  As soon as they were mounted and on their way to Derby Simon left Lydia’s side to ride beside Madeline. “My lady,” he said with a fierceness in his eyes, “your face has been bruised.”

  On the other side of her Jack blinked and leaned over to get a better look. “What the bloody hell?”

  Madeline swallowed. “My father.”

  “I’ll kill him!” Jack growled, his high spirits twisting to vengefulness. Simon’s expression matched Jack’s. “As soon as we sign the decree I’ll ride up there and-”

  “No,” Madeline shook her head. “You didn’t see what I saw.” Both men, her two protectors, sent her curious frowns. “My father has hired an army of mercenaries.”

  “Mercenaries?” Simon asked.

  “Why?” Jack followed. “What does he want with mercenaries?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He must be plotting something.”

  “Did I hear you say mercenaries?” Lydia pushed her way into their conversation. The three of them straightened in their saddles, lips sealed, not looking at her. Lydia sighed. “I don’t want to talk about mercenaries on such a beautiful day. I want to talk about all of the glorious changes I’ll be making at Kedleridge, starting with getting rid of the riff-raff.” She stared deliberately at Jack.

  None of them took her bait. They kicked their horses to ride faster. Lydia had to hang onto her saddle for all she was worth to keep up with them. It turned into a race and by the time they reached the city Jack’s joyful mood and humor had returned.

  “Aubrey’ll kill us when she finds out we got married without her,” he laughed as they reached the church and dismounted. “Oy, why don’t we wait a few minutes and send someone to go an’ get her?”

  “I’m not waiting for anyone, not even a countess,” Lydia shoved past him and into the church. “Where are the documents?”

  Simon followed her in silence.

  “Give me just a moment to prepare them.” Father Joseph, who had resigned himself to the odd marriages and was now brimming with good-cheer, walked ahead of them down the church’s main aisle and into a side room.

  “No offense or nothin’, MP, but what’s all the rush about?” Jack slipped his arm around her waist as they reached the front of the church and waited.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Madeline answered with growing anxiety.

  Jack’s smile slipped. “Why, is there somethin’ I should be worrying about?”

  She gave him a short, tight shake of her head.

  His humor disappeared completely. “He is a real priest, right? You’re not trying to pull one over on-”

  She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down for a kiss. He tensed for a moment then closed his arms around her and kissed her back.

  “Oh, I get it.” He broke the kiss with a smirk. “It’s all the bits after the wedding that you’re eager to get on with, isn’t it?”

  She let out a nervous giggle and kissed him again. Come to think of it, that was as good a reason as any as she could think of. His arms were warm, his hands mischievous, and it felt so right to meld against him that for a moment she lost track of why she was so worried to begin with.

  “I love you, Jack,” she whispered when he let her breathe.

  “An’ you know I love you more than anything.”

  She was about to kiss him again when Lydia’s derisive snort killed the mood. “If you can’t wait like a gentlemen why don’t you go out back and rut with her in a ditch like the rest of the filthy peasants.”

  Jack’s body went rock-hard in Madeline’s arms. He straightened and twisted towards Lydia.

  “Don’t!” Madeline whispered against his ear. “Not yet.”

  He glared at Lydia with hatred in his eyes like nothing Madeline had ever seen. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  Lydia laughed.

  “Jack, stop.” Madeline tugged on him. She reached up and put a hand on his face, turning him to look at her. He resisted at first before giving in. She met his eyes and held them. “Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything. Just … wait. Breathe.”

  Her last instruction might have been the most important one. Jack closed his eyes and took a breath. She smoothed her hands down his arms and took his hands.

  “What’s taking so long?” Lydia huffed.

  Jack’s eyes flew open but he didn’t have time to lay into Lydia again. Father Joseph walked back into the nave.

  “If you’re ready you can step into the scriptorium to sign the-”

  Before he could finish Lydia tore past him into the side room. She didn’t even wait for Simon. Jack was almost as eager to get on with things. He took Madeline’s arm and rushed her into the small room. Simon stepped aside, bowing his head, to let them pass.

  “Oy, no need to mess with that.” Jack slapped his arm. “You’re miles above me now, mate.”

  Simon didn’t reply. He arched an eyebrow at Madeline.

  “Thank you, Simon,” Madeline whispered as she passed him, touching his arm with her free hand. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s no more than I deserve, my lady.” He lowered his eyes and followed them to the table at the far end of the room.

  Lydia was already bent over scratching out her name on the parchment. “There!” She straightened with a happy chirp and held the pen out to Simon.

  “What was he talking about?” Jack muttered to Madeline as Simon crossed to take up the pen and sign away his freedom.

  Madeline’s heart hammered into her throat as Simon scratched out his name and stood back to give the pen to Father Joseph. Father Joseph took it and the parchment, whisking it to another table to fix the Church’s seal on Simon and Lydia’s union. At last Madeline let out a breath. It was done.

  “Simon! Simon where are you going?” Lydia barked as Simon turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

  “I’m going home. I have work to do,” he answered without looking back.

  “You’re what? Simon wait!” She dashed after him, bumping into the edge of the table where Father Joseph worked, causing him to spill red sealing wax across the marriage document like blood.

  Madeline bit her lip, sad beyond reasoning in the midst of her happiness.

  “Good riddance,” Jack breathed in relief. “Right, where do I sign?”

  As Madeline followed Jack to the table and signed where Father Joseph indicated the exhaustion of winning a long, emotional war took over. She set the pen down and all but fell into Jack’s arms. He kissed her for a moment and then just held her, resting his head against the side of hers, his weight heavy against her.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Crispin interrupted their moment. Madeline had forgotten he was there. “I haven’t seen my wife in more than a month.”

  “We’ll walk you back to the castle, mate.” Jack stood on his own feet, his arm still around Madeline’s waist. “Oy! I still got a room at the castle, don’t I? We’re not completely homeless are we?”

  Crispin exchanged a look with Madeline before slapping Jack on the back and saying, “You’re still my bailiff.”

  The three of them made their way through the streets of Derby to the castle. Darkness had fallen but it could have been midday for all the joy in Madeline’s heart. True to Jack’s prediction, Aubrey was furious when they met her at the castle. As furious as she could be learning that her closest friends had married against the odds and that Crispin was home. She only had time for a few choice words before Crispin swept her into his arms and ki
ssed her into silence.

  The reunion was short and ended with Jack sending a group of the castle servants off to bring food and a bath up to his room in the High Tower.

  “They hate it when anyone makes them lug water up all them stairs,” he winked as they climbed the stairs themselves, “but I bloody well think we deserve it after all we’ve been through.”

  Madeline wasn’t sure how she, or Jack for that matter, found the patience to sit still on the foot of the bed, peeling their boots off while a dozen servants brought a large wooden tub and bucket after bucket of warm water into the room to fill it. Butterflies filled her stomach as well, and by the time the servants finished with the tub and laid a table with a small feast they had reached a roar.

  “Right,” Jack turned to her with an impish twinkle in his gray eyes once they were finally alone. “Looks to me like you got a choice here, MP.”

  “Oh?” She cursed her voice for wavering.

  “Yes.” He scooped her up and drew her across his lap. He traced his fingers over her cheek and ear. His touch sent shivers into her core. “As I see it, you got a choice between food, a bath, and my personal favorite, this big, glorious bed.” He dipped his lips closer to hers, sliding his nose alongside hers. “So what’s it gonna be?”

  Her body knew its answer and shouted it loud and clear at her. She pressed into him, capturing his lips and kissing them as though she made kissing a habit. He responded eagerly to her hunger, covering her breast with his hand. That wasn’t enough. He teased his fingers to tug at the laces of her vest, working them loose so that he could slide a hand inside. She wanted more, wanted him to touch her as no one had before. She wanted to feel him as well and pulled at the fastenings of his tunic so she could match his eager exploration. Still, the soft linen of his shirt was too much of a barrier for her.

  “I see how it is,” he whispered against her ear and stood, setting her on her feet.

  He yanked the tunic off over his head and tossed it to the floor. His shirt followed, leaving his strong chest bare in the firelight. The slightest hint of ginger hair gave him a warm touchable glow. She leaned into him, breath coming in short gasps, and laid her palms on his flesh. It felt so good to touch him at last. She brought her mouth down on his shoulders, tasting him, sucking the salt from his skin, exploring the lines and scars that were so foreign and yet somehow so familiar to her with her hands and mouth.

  When her lips strayed down to tease one of his nipples he let out a laugh that set her body trembling. “Good God, MP! Where did you learn that?” He reached under her arms and drew her up.

  She stood on her toes, face to face with him, her fingers rising to play in her hair. “I don’t know,” she shook her head. “I only know that I’ve been waiting for this, for you, for my whole life.”

  His expression softened to such longing that all Madeline could do was close her eyes and let him kiss her until her soul was transported. His fingers went to work pulling out the laces of her vest and loosening her shirt. She was so lost in the wonder of the new sensations his touch brought her that he had to nudge her to lower her arms so that he could push the vest over her shoulders, and then raise them so that he could draw her shirt up over her head.

  She opened her eyes when he let out a ragged sigh. His heavy-lidded gaze was fixed on her chest, but not because of her small breasts that were now exposed to him. He reached out a trembling hand and touched the beads of her rosary, his rosary, that rested safe against her freckled skin.

  “You kept them,” his voice cracked as he slid his hand between the beads and her breasts.

  “Of course I kept them,” she laid her hand over his. “They mean everything to me.”

  He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “You mean everything to me.”

  He pulled her close to kiss her. The intimacy of skin on skin, his firm body melding with her slight one, left her light-headed. This was the way things were supposed to be.

  “Right then,” Jack leaned back and took a breath. “I see you’ve made your decision.”

  “Yes, I have,” she replied breathlessly, leaning in to kiss him again.

  “A bath it is!” he dodged her lips.

  She gasped at his evasion and at the sudden rush of air between them as he stepped away. “Jack!”

  “I love a good bath!” he smirked at her and tugged at the ties of his chausses. “Almost but not quite as much as nuns.” Her hands flew to her mouth when she realized what she was about to see. His eyes flashed with wickedness. “Oy, you better get used to looking at my naughty bits in all their glory, MP. I intend to be naked around you a lot in the future.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh, even more so when he shucked his chausses and small clothes in one handful and his penis sprung happy and shining up to salute her. He kicked his clothes aside and stood with his hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised at her.

  “It’s never that funny, MP.”

  “I can’t help it,” she took her hand from her mouth long enough to speak. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.” She stared and stared at him, too jubilant and nervous not to giggle.

  “Oh yeah?” he swaggered closer to her, bobbing with each step. “Good.” He reached her and pulled her close for another kiss. That funny part of him rubbed against the half-exposed flesh of her belly and suddenly it was the most wonderful thing she’d ever felt, not funny at all. She was about to reach for it when he broke the kiss and said, “Right. Your turn,” and started tugging at the ties of the chausses she wore. She sucked in a breath as the part of her that was about to be revealed hummed with need. “You know, I can’t say I’ve ever taken off someone else’s chausses before,” he winked at her.

  She dissolved into giggles again. Those giggles turned into a loud sigh as he undid the last tie and pushed the material down her legs. He held her and teased the soft flesh of her thighs as she stepped out of the worn old clothes. He’d touched her there, like that before, the day she had first seen Kedleridge. She hadn’t been ready then and he’d scared her out of her wits. Now she was more than ready. She reached for his hand and nudged it up to the tingling juncture of her thighs.

  His response was everything she’d hoped for. His hand pressed into her, his fingers delving deep into her folds. A rough moan escaped her throat when he slid a finger inside of her. She gripped his shoulders as a second joined it, stroking inside of her and making it impossible for her to catch her breath.

  “Does that hurt?” he whispered.

  She blinked, ready to answer no, but come to think of it, the way he stretched her did sting a bit. “No,” she answered anyhow.

  One twitch of his eyebrow and she could tell he knew she was lying.

  “Bath time,” he growled, pulling his hand away and picking her up.

  He stepped into the tepid water with her and sat. He positioned her legs on either side of his hips. The position was anything but relaxing. Her body was restless for completion and in spite of her best efforts to stay still as he rubbed soap and water over her she wriggled against him.

  “God, MP, you’re gonna make me finish before we’ve even got started!” he groaned and pushed her hips away from his by a few inches.

  “What?” She barely heard herself speak. She was too focused on touching him, scrubbing her hands over his shoulders, arms, and chest. He didn’t really need washing, she just wanted to feel his body. Every inch of it. Even the fresh scars on his back.

  He was massaging soap through her short hair when she reached for his hard penis, closing her hand around the shaft and stroking up. He gasped and jerked.

  “Oh!” she snapped her hand back. “Did I hurt you?”

  He laughed, sinking lower in the water and leaning his head against the back of the tub. “Not quite.”

  He was the most delicious, perplexing mystery she had ever encountered. She sunk into the water with him, unable to resist the urge to slide her hips closer to his until the aching, urgent part of her rubbed against his hardness
.

  He drew in another breath, gripping the sides of the tub and closing his eyes, shaking his head. “You don’t wanna wait and do this slow and proper, do you?”

  “No, Jack.” She circled her arms around his neck, sneaking a kiss. “I just want you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, all of you.”

  “An’ you’re not gonna get all upset about it later? Accuse me of not bein’ romantic ’n all?”

  She wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about, but she answered, “No, never,” anyhow, and kissed him again.

  “Alright,” he winked at her. “Mind your knees.”

  She didn’t have time to puzzle over his statement. He leaned forward, sliding his hands along her thighs to part her legs further. His eyes met hers as his fingertips stroked the heated opening between her legs. Then they were gone and something much bigger was in their place. A thrill of anticipation swirled through her, and with a rumbling groan he thrust into her.

  For one disorienting moment a crack of discomfort eclipsed the blissful pleasure. It shook her out of the heady stupor she’d fallen into. He moved inside of her, tipping her backwards in the sloshing water, thrusting again. A raw moan escaped from her in time to his movement. She didn’t know where it came from, she didn’t know how she wasn’t drowning in the soapy water, in Jack. The brief pain wasn’t important. He felt so good, it felt so whole to be a part of him, that she gave up trying to figure things out and simply held onto him, letting him use her for his own pleasure. It was the most vital thing she’d ever felt and she gave herself up to it.

  “Oy.” He stopped abruptly, laughing and rocking back to sit on the floor of the tub. “I’m either outta shape or far more tired than I though. You mind moving this to the bed?”

  “Yes, please!” She relaxed the muscles she didn’t know she was tensing.

  He didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, carrying her with him, dripping water all over the floor, and rushed to the bed. He didn’t bother with towels or robes. She thought she might still have soap all through her hair. It didn’t matter. He laid her across the bed, laughter still rich in his throat and his eyes, and carried on where he’d left off. She dropped her legs to the side and lifted her hips to take him inside of her once more. He filled her with a sigh, hips surging in a rhythm of deep need as water dripped off of his hot body.