“Well…” Donald had intended to go at once to the baron and recount what he had learned. But this was a festive occasion, and when he thought of being the bearer of bad tidings for the bride, he decided his news could wait. The two young men followed George into the kitchen, which was a scene of mass confusion presided over by Guido, who had apparently finally been driven to madness, for he shouted at everyone and waved his arms as if he were demented.
George ignored the uproar, and the harried servants ignored the noblemen. “I tell you, all this wedding business makes a man think of getting married himself, eh?” George said philosophically, corralling a startled Alda whose arms were full of linen and giving the wench a hearty kiss on the cheek. She blushed and spun out of his grasp, then reeled toward the hall. “Meet any likely candidates on your travels?”
“I was on an errand for the baron, not looking for a wife,” Donald said severely.
“Might have done both,” Seldon noted with a slow grin. “Might have had better luck.”
The baron had sworn Donald and Seldon to secrecy, so Donald shot his companion a warning look.
“No need to inform me of your doings,” George said cheerfully. If he surmised he was to be kept in the dark concerning the purpose of their journey, he was obviously not offended. “You’ve missed plenty of excitement here, I’ll tell you.”
“Obviously,” Donald observed. “I never would have guessed we’d be coming home to a wedding.”
“You’re not the only one. Bryce Frechette didn’t expect it, either, I daresay.”
“What?” Donald demanded. “Bryce Frechette came here? When?”
“After Osric got caught poaching and lost his fingers.”
“You’d better start from the beginning,” Donald said gravely. “And when you’re finished, I’ll tell you about Philippe.”
“I take it the news is not good?”
Donald and Seldon glanced at each other.
“You are going to leave me in suspense?”
The two young men nodded. “What you have to say is surely more enjoyable,” Donald said with a slight smile.
“I quite agree,” George said, and he proceeded to recount what had recently transpired in Castle Frechette.
“I’m glad for the lady’s sake,” Donald said when George finished, “although it seems the baron sent us away for nothing.”
“Now tell me about Philippe de Varenne,” George replied.
“He’s dead,” Seldon announced with his customary lack of embellishment.
“Dead?” George asked incredulously.
“Dead,” Donald confirmed. “He got drunk and fell off a pier at Dover, or so they say. It could be someone tried to rob him. Either way, he drowned.”
“He never should have tried to make trouble,” Seldon noted with a distinct lack of compassion. “Ambitious fool! Where’s it all got him, eh?”
Chapter Eighteen
Despite Etienne’s pessimistic misgivings, nothing happened to prevent his marriage.
George returned with Donald and Seldon, who reported their news of Philippe de Varenne, and Etienne could even find it in his heart to regret the loss of one so young and so corrupted. He could not help but wonder what part Philippe’s family had played in the man’s ruin, or if, with better men to guide his early years, Philippe might have turned out better.
If he should become a father—a new and now welcome possibility! — he would remember well the influence a parent could wield, for good or ill
At the appropriate time they went to the chapel and when Etienne saw Gabriella awaiting him, her eyes shining with love and trust, he discovered that he could also find some sympathy for his mother. Full of love himself, he no longer blamed her for falling in love with a man unworthy of her devotion, as he had so often done before, and although he did not forgive her neglect of him, he could at least comprehend it.
Then he spotted Bryce Frechette trying not to scowl at him. The impudent fellow was no cipher, and it was clear he did not like the man his sister had chosen, yet Frechette wisely did not make any protest or try to prevent the ceremony.
Gabriella was so obviously delighted by her brother’s presence that when the ceremony was over, and Etienne had bestowed a kiss on his beautiful bride, Bryce Frechette even received one of the baron’s rare smiles, albeit not one nearly as warm and happy as the one the baron bestowed on his wife.
Merry and long was the wedding feast that followed the ceremony, with fine food, excellent wine and delightful music. The hall was decorated with so many evergreen branches and late-blooming flowers that it looked like an enchanted bower. The servants darted about ensuring a plentiful supply of food for everyone, and the several guests laughed and talked and jested until long after the sun went down. George particularly outdid himself making witty remarks, and his reward was the attention of a certain lovely young lady who was, to his very pleasant surprise, unmarried and unpromised. Her pretty face and appreciation for his intelligence were certainly enough to give a man pause, even one so unused to serious speculation.
Donald and Seldon enjoyed the meal and George’s comments in their own particular fashions. Donald was alternately driven to helpless laughter and embarrassed horror by George’s irreverent remarks. Seldon didn’t understand a lot of them, and didn’t pay attention to many more, for there was too much food spread before him to consider inconsequential matters
It was later noted by many that the baron seemed to be mellowing with age, for no one could recall him ever smiling or laughing so much. Indeed, Etienne himself could not remember a time in his life when he felt so happy and carefree, and he thanked God for sending him his lovely bride.
Gabriella smiled much and said little, but her joy shone in her face. In the spring and summer, she had thought she could never be happy again. Now Bryce had come home safe and sound, she would always be able to retain her home and most importantly, she was married to the man she loved.
Chalfront revealed that Osric and his mother had left the village, sneaking away in the night and taking with them several tools that they did not own. Wilham had organized a group to give chase, but the hayward and his mother had eluded them. As for Chalfront and Josephine, the bailiff looked so pleased when he led his beautiful wife into the hall, Gabnella thought he might explode from the warring combination of pride and humility he was obviously experiencing.
He could not have been any happier than Gabriella, though, nor was she nearly as sanguine as she appeared. How could she be, with Etienne seated so close beside her, his hand straying to caress hers at what seemed every available opportunity?
Not that she wanted him to stop. She quite shamelessly wanted him to continue, and begrudged the absence when he took his hand away.
At last the feast was concluded, and minstrels entered the hall from the kitchen, by their contented expression well pleased with the meal they had enjoyed there. “What is your pleasure, my lord?” the leader asked as he tuned his harp. “A ballad? Or a dance?”
“I think a ballad,” Etienne began. Then he hesitated and said with pensive gravity, “No, I believe a dance.” He rose majestically. “Gabriella?”
She tried to maintain an equally dignified demeanor as she stood to join him. “I would be delighted, my lor.. husband.”
She put her hand in his, and even that simple contact made her blush.
He was a surprisingly good dancer, she realized at once, then knew she should have guessed that. Any man who could move with his customary grace should be an exceptional dancer.
It seemed she was not the only one who enjoyed watching Etienne, for nobody rose to join them. “I believe I am making a spectacle of myself,” Etienne whispered sardonically as she passed in front of him to take his other upheld hand.
She shook her head, smiling. “They are all simply astounded by your agility,” she answered.
“Perhaps I should do something completely unexpected,” he whispered next with a roguish grin that made her heart r
ace.
“What did you have in mind?” she replied breathlessly.
He halted abruptly, jerking her to a stop. The amazed minstrels ceased playing, and then the assembly gasped as Etienne pulled her into his arms and gave her a passionate kiss that sent the heat pulsing through her body His lips moved over hers lazily, seductively, until her knees felt weak.
“My lord!” George called out, bringing her back to reality with a suddenness that took away what little breath she had left. “I believe you are under a serious delusion.”
Etienne stepped away, and together they turned to George, who was looking very serious. “This is not your bedchamber,” he fold them.
Gabriella flushed warmly and felt a most undignified urge to giggle, because she had completely forgotten the existence of anyone except Etienne.
“I thank you for pointing that out,” Etienne said just as gravely as George. “If you all will excuse us, I believe my wife and I shall retire to the proper room.”
In the next moment, Etienne swept Gabriella up in his arms and started to carry her toward the tower stairs. “I hope I’m not too heavy,” she said with mock gravity as he began to climb the steps.
“And I hope I don’t stumble,” Etienne replied. His tone was so unemotional, she started to wonder if he meant his words.
“I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself,” she said. “You may put me down.”
“Oh, I will,” he said with a low chuckle. “When I get you to our bedchamber.”
He reached the bedchamber and kicked open the door. Once across the threshold, he set her down quickly, then turned and shoved the door closed. Gabriella didn’t know quite what to do, between her excitement, her nervous anxiety and the fact that she was alone with the man she desired with all her heart, so she went to the table as fast as her weakened knees could carry her, sat on the stool and started to remove her veil with trembling fingers.
Etienne didn’t do anything except watch her.
“It was a very good feast,” she said brightly, thinking she sounded like a very silly and very young girl. “Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. George had better be careful, or he’ll make Emmeline D’Arcy fall in love with him.” She got the veil and headdress off.
Was he simply going to stand there and do nothing? Was there something she was supposed to do? “I was so happy Bryce gave me his blessing,” she babbled. “I hope he’ll stay for a little while, at least.”
Etienne moved at last and she sighed with relief, although she nearly jumped out of her skin when he placed his two hands on her shoulders. “Gabriella,” he said wistfully, “there’s so much I want to say, and I do not have the words.”
She rose and faced him, touched by his humble tone. “I do not need words,” she said truthfully. “I have you.”
He smiled, but he still didn’t seem quite convinced. “I want to explain something. That night m the chapel, when I frightened you…I was trying to show you how much I cared for you, in the only way I knew how.”
She smiled and nodded. “I understand, Etienne. You had no teacher for any other way, but truly, I do not need flowery flattery and empty eloquence. You told me everything when you told me about your past.” She splayed her hands on his broad chest. “Show me how much you love me, and I will do my best to show you how much I return that love.” She kissed him and rejoiced as his arms closed around her and drew her close. Nestling against his chest, she whispered, “Who needs words, when our lips can speak so eloquently without them?”
She became aware that he was untying the lacing of her gown, and her heart began to race with renewed excitement, all the more so because they were husband and wife, their union sanctified by church and state. No shame would attach itself to the glory they were about to share.
His hand slipped inside her gown and stroked her back. She tilted her head for another kiss, this time imbuing it with all the passion she felt.
Etienne responded with equal passion, his tongue making forays into the waiting warmth of her mouth and sensuously entwining with her own. Just as anxious to feel his naked flesh, she fumbled for his lacings.
“I want you so much,” he murmured with closed eyes when she succeeded and pressed her hand along his hardened muscles. “I need you so much.”
He opened his eyes, which gleamed with desire. With a low growl, he picked her up and carried her to their bed. Once he had placed her there, he stepped away and yanked off his tunic, then tossed it aside and took off his chausses.
How magnificent he was! she thought as he crawled onto the end of the bed, his movements as lithe and graceful as a cat’s. She wanted to feel his lips upon hers and closed her eyes in anticipation.
His lips touched her, but not upon her mouth. His hand moved slowly along her leg, pushing up her skirt, his kisses trailing behind, up and up and up, creating an incredible suspense.
“What are you—” she gasped.
“Showing you how many ways I can love you,” he replied huskily, still making his slow progress, which stopped just short. He looked up at her with a wicked grin.
Throbbing with desire, she begged, “Take me now, Etienne, please,” and sat up, pressing hot kisses over his chest and reaching for his waist.
“No, not yet,” he protested softly, with a shake of his head. He gently pushed her back and positioned himself between her legs. With agonizing slowness he helped her remove her gown and shift. With even more agonizing slowness, he bent down to tease and caressed her with his hands and tongue until she thought she would die with pleasure.
Instinctively undulating beneath him, she could not wait. Her eager fingers found his hardened manhood and guided it to her. Gasping, he pressed gently inside. The tempo of their movements increased, building into a tension of incredible proportion. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingers biting into the flesh, until he threw back his head and groaned just as the tension burst within her.
Who could put a word to this feeling? she thought as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her and she cradled Etienne against the softness of her breasts.
After a long moment of blissful rest, he disengaged himself and lay beside her, panting. Then he smiled at her, his chest still slick from the frenzy of their passion.
She reached out to touch his hair. “Here is something I’ve been curious about,” she said pensively, her eyes dancing. “Why is your hair so long?”
“Do you think I look like a woman?” he demanded, half-serious.
“You?” She ran her gaze over his naked body. “Never. But it is so unusual.”
He lifted one of her own tresses and began to brush the end across her cheek. “When I was young, I could not afford to hire a body servant, or a squire, nor could I afford to have my hair properly trimmed. So I let it grow and ignored the stares and taunts of others. And then a very interesting thing happened. After I had won a few tournaments, I noticed that some of those I had fought were arriving at tournaments with longer hair. I heard a few remarks about ‘Samson.’” He smiled at the memory. “After that, I saw no need to cut my hair.” He kissed her forehead. “If you wish it, I will have it trimmed tomorrow.”
“Oh, no, I like it, although at first I thought you looked quite savage.”
“I am,” he said with a wicked smile. “You didn’t let me finish showing you what I wanted to,” he remarked, slipping lower on the bed. “I do not like to be interrupted, as you well know.”
“I lack patience,” she replied.
“So I gather. Fortunately, I have patience enough for both. Because,” he said, lazily pressing kisses along her belly toward her thighs, “this time I am going to take my time, I promise you.”
“Then I had better move this gown,” she said hurriedly, suddenly tense as she rose to remove her crushed and wrinkled wedding dress from beneath them.
He smiled dreamily, imagining a few of the many delights they would share. Then he noticed the frown on her face. “What is it? I didn’t mean to criticize.”
“Then what is troubling you?” He almost forgot his question as he watched her, seeing her body completely for the first time. How splendid she was—all the more so because of the feelings of love and tenderness she invoked within him.
May he always be worthy of those feelings! he thought as she went to the chest of her garments now standing beside his own and pulled out a robe he had given her for a wedding gift. It was rich red velvet, lined with soft rabbits’ fur. She had protested that it was too expensive, but he had assured her that he knew quite well the state of his purse, and that even Chalfront had approved of the purchase. Right at the moment, he thought he had never bought anything so delightful in his life.
“It’s just that… you’ve had so many women and I…I am so ignorant of… in the bed…and…” she said haltingly, hiding her face in a manner that was astonishingly provocative.
He was out of the bed in an instant, gathering her in his arms, the fur tickling his nostrils. “No other woman has ever mattered to me as you do,” he said. “I liked them and enjoyed their company, but I didn’t love them. How could I, when I didn’t know how to love until I found you?”
“Are you sure?”
He laughed, a hearty, full-throated laugh that filled the chamber. “I am absolutely sure, my beloved.” His eyes took on the hungry gleam Gabriella was beginning to appreciate. “Come back to bed, wife.”
“I thought you were a patient man, Baron DeGuerre,” she chided, flushing to the roots of her hair, her body tingling with expectation and her flesh aroused by the softness of the fur.
He started to chuckle, his chest rumbling with the laughter. “My name is Etienne. All things considered, I think you have every right to use it.”
“Etienne.” She sighed, snuggling up to him and toying with a lock of his hair. “You love me.”
“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you, Gabriella.”
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