He put the pack back where it had been, removed his boots and lay down on the bed. It was scarce big enough for two, at least if one of them was as big as he was. He should enjoy the pleasure of stretching out. The feel of the straw-filled mattress giving beneath him and the softness of the bed linens. They were not as finely woven as the bed linens he was used to at home at his father’s castle. But they were better than the rough wool blanket he had at Higham. Bed linens were another thing he should buy here. Then the linen Hawise and the other women were hopefully weaving could be made into other things: bandages and undertunics and cloths for the tables.
Buying bed linens assumed he would someday have a real bed to sleep on. But eventually the new mill would be finished and Aldreth could work on furniture. By then it would be probably be nearly winter. Which reminded him that he needed to see about a warm blanket or coverlet for his bed.
Another item on his long list of household goods he must purchase. That was what he should be concentrating on. Not Rhosyn and her beautiful, alluring body. With effort, he forced himself think about the many things he must search out in the port tomorrow.
*
He woke to a faint sound and knew a moment of panic at not knowing where he was. The night candle—which had been little more than a stub when he arrived—had guttered out. But there was a hint of light from the unshuttered window. In its faint illumination he gradually made out Rhosyn as she stealthily entered the room.
“Rhosyn. Where have you been?”
“To visit a friend. Her name is Orla. Her father is a wool merchant here.”
Her words had the simplicity of truth. Relief flooded him. “I am glad you have returned. But you must be very weary. Come to bed. I promise will I expect nothing of you. Other than your sweet presence.” Why was he speaking as if he had some right to her body and was graciously forgoing his privileges? He sounded so arrogant.
He sat up. “I can go back to the other room. I’m certain Ralf and Gervaise will have claimed the bed, but one of them will have brought a bedroll, so I can sleep on the floor.”
“You should stay. The bed is big enough for both of us.”
Not really true, unless they lay close together. Which is exactly what he wished to do. His heart leapt at the thought. He moved over as far as he could. Although he had taken off his boots, he still wore his tunic and braies. Rhosyn did not immediately climb into bed but began to undress. First, her shoes and stockings. Then she pulled her traveling gown over her head. Instantly aroused, he waited breathlessly to see if she would remove her shift. It would be a sure sign she wished to make love. She left the garment on and climbed into bed next to him.
He froze in place, overwhelmed with longing and yet uncertain what he should do. If their bodies touched, he knew he would explode. He could smell her. That fragrance she possessed that was uniquely hers. The scent of sunshine, fragrant herbs and femininity.
She moved closer, as if she wished to absorb his warmth. It was cooler here along the coast, especially at night, but he did not think she was cold. He put his arm around her and drew her near, so she was cradled against his chest. It should have been wonderful to hold her like this, but it was actually torture. The idea that he would be satisfied to simply hold her in his arms while she slept was laughable. His cock thrust up, urgent and aching with arousal. He worried she would brush against it. If she did, he was not certain he would be able to control himself. And if she knew how aroused he was, she might feel pressured to let him love her. It was important to him that she desire lovemaking as much as he did.
He stared into the darkness, wondering how he would ever sleep. Memories fluttered across his consciousness. The way she’d looked when he first saw her. The silken glow of her tanned skin. Her glossy dark hair. The fine, delicate grace of her form. Her lips, like the petals of a dusky rose. He thought of how it had felt the first time they embraced. The way she had molded to him, her delicious curves fitting perfectly against his body. The taste of her, warm and sweet and as intoxicating as the finest mead.
He was going mad; he must think of something else. All the things he must buy tomorrow. The list he’d gone over many times, but kept adding to. But he could not concentrate. Could not think of anything but her.
She shifted against him and he suppressed a moan. He fought back his raging lust enough so he could speak. “Are you comfortable?”
“Aye.” Her sigh afterwards made him wonder. Was it possible she felt as he did? That she was also miserable with suppressed desire?
He touched her face, moving his fingers to trace the shape of her lips. She let out another sigh. This one made her whole body shudder. Emboldened, he slid his arm from beneath her and sat up, leaned over and brought his lips to hers.
*
At last! At last! Rhosyn’s body sang with delight as their mouths met. This was the moment she had waited for, longed for. To have this man love her.
In moments, their kisses turned frantic. Their bodies trembling with need. Their hands greedy. To touch. To stroke. To caress. Her cursed shift was in the way. She longed to be naked. He helped her sit up and strip off the garment. And then there was nothing but skin against skin. The unbearable need to be joined.
He sought to be gentle and patient, but she could tell from his rapid breathing that his need was as desperate as hers. She cried out as he touched her between her legs. Pressed herself back against the bed, her body rigid with pleasure. Swirling, dazzling bliss. And yet, she knew there was more. A way they could be closer.
Boldly, she reached for him. His shaft felt firm and hot in her fingers. Magical. Alive. He made a choked sound and drew her hand away.
“Please,” she whispered.
He kissed her tenderly, then moved his hand down her body, caressing her breasts, then finally touching the aching, swollen juncture between her legs. He stroked her gently, parting her throbbing, wet folds. Opening her. His body over hers, he guided himself inside her inch by inch. A burst of pressure. Pleasure-pain. Then deep, pulsing satisfaction. To feel him filling her.
Then he was moving. Rocking her. Riding her. Taking her on a journey to the heavens. There was naught to do but hold on.
She peaked, feeling the waves of keen satisfaction flowing outward, waiting for him to reach his own climax. At the last moment, he withdrew and collapsed against her.
She held him close, felt the wild rhythm of his heart as she stroked his hot, sweaty skin. Yet she knew a vague loss. At the last moment he had pulled away to spill his seed on her belly, instead of inside her.
It should be a relief. She did not want to have a child with this man. Not yet, at least. But another part of her ached with disappointment. Her heart told her Fitzhugh was her mate, her destiny and her future. She wanted a child with him. Yearned for it with deep, primal longing. A part of her was hurt that at a moment of such splendor, he was capable of caution. It made her wonder if he wished to save his seed for another woman. Some noble lady who would be his wife and bear his heir.
The thought was like a knife in the belly. A sudden pain that diminished her pleasure and brought her back to thinking clearly. She could never be anything but this man’s leman.
But she did not really wish to be his wife. Being wed meant being subject to a man’s will in all things. As a wife she would lose all her freedom and autonomy. It was better to remain only Fitzhugh’s bedpartner.
That way she would have a chance to know delights like this: Being cradled against his chest. Feeling his strong heartbeat. His breathing slow and steady. She sighed with contentment.
*
The next thing she knew, light was peeking in around the shutters. She shifted away from Fitzhugh and climbed from the bed. After gathering her clothing and getting dressed, she left the room and made her way to the outdoor privy. The sun was well up, the waterfront stirring. Knowing what Fitzhugh hoped to accomplish this day, she decided she should wake him. On the way back to the room, she encountered Sir Gilbert, one of Fitzhugh
’s knights.
When she greeted him, he immediately asked where Fitzhugh was. “Asleep, but I’ll wake him now.”
She slipped back into room, went to the bed and gently shook Fitzhugh’s shoulder. He woke with a start and stared at her.
“Your men are asking for you.”
He glanced around the room, looking confused. “I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” His gaze shifted to the window where light streamed around the edges of the shutter and a look of dismay crossed his face. “I suppose the warehouses and shops are already open and doing business.”
She nodded.
He cursed, then got up and began to dress. “Have you broken your fast yet?”
“Nay.”
He motioned to his pack on the floor. “There’s food inside.”
Rhosyn retrieved the bread, cheese and olives from the pack, all wrapped up in a cloth. She took the food to the bed.
“There’s wine as well.”
She sat on the bed and ate while he finished dressing. When he was done, she held out a piece of bread spread with cheese. He ate it quickly. Then he got up and moved restlessly around the room. “We have much to do today. So many things to purchase.”
“You need not wait for me.”
He turned to look at her. “I had hoped you would come with me and tell me the best places to buy things. And interpret for me.”
“I do not think I should show my face around Cardiff. Someone might recognize me.”
“But last night you went out… alone.”
“Last night I knew exactly where I was going and it was dark. I was also very careful.”
“You will be safe with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
She shook her head. “I can’t risk it.”
“You don’t think I can protect you?”
“’Tis not that. I’m certain you can keep me safe.” Not true. No one could protect her if Bellame discovered her here. “But I don’t want to delay you or cause you difficulties.” She stretched out her hands imploringly. “You have come all this way to buy goods. Having me along could endanger your plans.”
“But what will I do for an interpreter? How will I find the best places to buy things?”
“I can tell you which merchants are to be trusted. And nearly everyone here speaks Norman French. They could not do business otherwise.”
He still appeared distressed. “I don’t like to think of you alone here, hiding away.”
“If you pay the tavernkeeper, he will keep the room. And no one except you and your men, and Orla, know I am here. And we will need the room again tonight.”
She could tell her arguments were swaying him. And he had perked up at the mention of staying the night. She had also felt a tug of yearning at the thought of more lovemaking. The anticipation of that would sustain her through the long hours of boredom, alone in the room.
He approached the stool and leaned down to kiss her, then cupped her cheek. “I hate to be parted from you, even for a short while.”
“I will miss you as well. Now, sit for a moment and I will tell you which merchants are trustworthy.”
He sat on the stool and paid careful attention as she spoke. Then he grabbed up his swordbelt and his pack and was gone.
Chapter Twenty
William tried to quell the uneasiness bubbling up inside him as he and four of his knights walked down the quay. He hated to leave Rhosyn, even for a short while. Not only did he worry she would be safe, he wasn’t that confident trading on his own. He had little experience in bargaining with merchants.
The last time he’d been to a market was in London, where he’d bought goods for his parents’ household. His mother had given him careful instructions on how to find the best quality materials. She’d also warned him not to accept the first price he was given. Or even the second or third. He found haggling tedious, but since he didn’t have an unlimited amount of coin, he knew he would have to do some bartering today.
He’d brought Baldwin, Ralf, Gervaise and Stephen to help carry the items he purchased and left the other men at the tavern to keep an eye on the horses and the cart.
As they walked down the quay, Baldwin asked what William was looking to purchase. “Household goods, mainly. And my first priority is salt, for flavoring and to preserve meat.” He glanced at the knights. “Without salt we can’t butcher pigs and there will be no ham this year.”
He hoped this satisfied his men and made them realize they had an interest in this journey, that he had not come here merely to buy luxury goods for the castle, things that would not benefit to anyone but him.
In a stroke of good fortune, William was able to follow his nose to a warehouse selling spices. There he purchased small bags of the more costly seasonings—cinnamon, cloves and ginger—and two large sacks of sea salt.
He next looked for a place selling cloth goods. Rhosyn had told him there was warehouse at the end of the wharf that sold such things. The quayside was becoming more crowded, with servants, sailors and merchants going about their business. William heard a half dozen different tongues spoken and saw a striking array of people, from tall, fair-haired Saxons to short, dark Welshman, fiery-haired Irishmen and even a man with skin as dark as polished walnut. There were few women in the crowd, and they all looked like servants, with plain gowns and drab head-coverings.
At the warehouse, he bought several dozen els of linen cloth that could be used for bedding and underclothing. He also purchased a beautiful tapestry from Venice featuring embroidery of birds and animals, many of which he was not familiar with. He was rather shocked by how much these goods cost. The money pouch on to his belt was growing lighter by moment.
He sent Gervaise and Ralf back to the tavern with the cloth goods and went on to the next stop. Rhosyn had told him there was a merchant that sold furniture and implements near the quay. He hoped to find some finer pieces that he was not certain Aldreth could make. He was not disappointed. The shop sold not only simple oak furniture that was made locally, but some from faraway places fashioned of much more exotic materials. William admired an ebony chest inlaid with ivory squares that formed a chessboard on the top, and a massive chair with a dragon carved on the back. A huge armoire with the doors etched with gold gilt swans also caught his eye. But he knew their small cart did not have room for such big pieces. Not with the other things he needed to buy.
After bartering extensively with the merchant, a short, broad man with a shiny bald head and shrewd dark eyes who spoke French with a strange accent, William bought a handsome, high-backed, but relatively simple chair, two stools with padded leather seats and a bench of carved applewood. The pieces were too heavy to carry back to the tavern, so William arranged to have his men pick them up with the cart later.
Next, they stopped at a tanner’s and examined a variety of hides and furs, William decided there was nothing here he truly needed. Some of the more costly furs—ermine and wildcat—were beautiful, but he decided for now he would be satisfied with sheepskins for his bed and the fur from locally caught pelts for adorning clothing.
They left the tanner’s and went to a metalsmith shop. Most of the places they’d been to were large warehouses, with a trading area in front where goods were brought out to the buyers. But this was a workshop where the craftsman sold items he made. The craftsman had hair so fair it was almost silver. Although he was relatively young and fit, a burly, well-armed knight remained close by him, presumably to deter thieves.
William bought a bronze brazier and a ewer and two cups. Both were decorated with enamelwork of red, green and silver in a complex pattern of curving lines. William knew this type of design was typical of the Irish and he asked the man where he was from. He replied he was Niall ap Sigurd from Dublin and said he had come to Cardiff because of the growing trade there.
William was drawn to a table featuring jewelry and other small objects. He bought several needles, recalling the incident where Rhosyn had needed one to sew up his wound. Then he examined the
bracelets, rings and necklaces on display. One necklace in particular caught his eye. The pendant featured a gold dragon with eyes of brilliant red. “Are the stones garnet?” he asked Niall.
“Nay. Rubies from Constantinople. Although the gold is from here—Welsh gold.”
William almost gasped aloud when he heard the price. It would take much of the coin he had left. But he wanted to purchase something for Rhosyn, and this necklace seemed perfect. He knew the dragon was the symbol of Wales, or Cymru, as she called it.
After buying a few more practical items, he headed back to the tavern. By now, he was alone, as Baldwin and Stephen had left carrying his larger purchases from the metalsmith to the cart. William felt a bit uneasy walking by himself along the quay, especially thinking of the gold necklace in his money pouch. His hand remained firmly on the hilt of his sword and he continually scanned his surroundings.
It had begun to rain, a light mist that seeped through his clothing. He was glad to be finished with bartering and dealing with merchants, and eager to see Rhosyn and to give her the necklace. The thought of spending another night at the inn with her thrilled him.
He wished there was a way to convince her to share his bed every night at Higham, but he sensed she would not want to do that. She was too independent and too dedicated to her work as a healer.
But he would not think that far in the future. For now, he meant to enjoy the chance of being alone with Rhosyn in room with a bed and other comforts and to explore her enticing body at his leisure.
As he neared the tavern, he became aroused. He told himself to slow down and behave like a considerate, patient lover instead of a rutting beast. To distract himself, he focused on the thought of giving Rhosyn the necklace. He hoped it would bring a smile to her face and banish her usual wary, serious expression.
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