A Memory of Love (12 page)

“I have always enjoyed watching my women bathe,” he said quietly.

“Your women?”
Her eyes had widened at his words.

“Surely, lady, you do not think me a virgin,” he responded. “I am a healthy man with healthy appetites. I have kept my share of mistresses. I shall no longer, however, now that I have a wife.”

She nodded. It was reasonable, and his promise to remain faithful to her was comforting.

“You are flushed with the heat of your bath, Rhonwyn. It is very becoming to you,” he told her.

She did not answer him, for she was not certain what to say. How she hated being made to feel a fool, but this was a situation she had never imagined.

“Are you coming out of your tub soon, Rhonwyn?” he asked her.

“How can I when you are standing here, my lord?” she replied.

“It is my right to see you as God fashioned you, wife,” he told her, and his silvery-gray eyes were twinkling.

“But I have never stood as God fashioned me before any man,” she responded quickly. “I am not certain I can.”

Reaching over the edge of the high wood tub, he put his hands beneath her arms and quickly lifted her out of the water, setting her down upon the floor. He drew a deep breath of pleasure. She had sweet little round breasts that begged to be loved.

With a gasp of both surprise and shock Rhonwyn snatched at the drying cloth and covered her nakedness. “That was unfairly done, my lord!” she scolded him.

“Has no one ever told you that all is fair in both love and war, my lady wife?” His eyes were burning a hole in the cloth.

“There is no love here, my lord, so we must be at war,” she declared, “and you will find I am no easy enemy.”

Reaching out, he plucked the pin holding her hair atop her head. Then wrapping a hank of the gilt mass about his hand, he pulled her against him, looking down into her beautiful but determined face. “You belong to me, Rhonwyn, as my warhorse belongs to me, as my weapons and my castle belong to me. I am your husband, and I have certain rights that I am privileged to take of you. Certainly you know that.” He brushed his lips across her forehead. “You are young and innocent and shy. I understand your fears, but our marriage must be consummated.”

“I barely understand what you are asking of me, my lord, but must this consummation take place tonight? Can we not have time to know one another better? We have only just met.”

“What difference does it make, tonight or another night, eh, lady? Were you any other man's daughter but ap Gruffydd's, I should gladly honor your request, but you are not. My king fears your father will seek to take you back if the marriage is not immediately consummated. That he would seek an annulment and use you in a more advantageous marriage with an enemy of King Henry.”

“Aye,” Rhonwyn agreed, “he is that wily, my lord.”

“I will be as gentle with you as I can,” he promised her, caressing her cheek.

Without realizing, she drew back from his touch. “My mother died when I was five,” she said. “I know nothing of what is expected of me. The nuns did not speak on it. I saw the prince atop my mother, but I never knew what transpired between them. I am sorry for my ignorance, but there it is, my lord, and I should rather be honest with you even if you think me a fool for my stupidity.”

“You are a convent-bred virgin, Rhonwyn. You are not expected to know what transpires between a man and his wife until your husband teaches you,” he said gently.

“My lord, I am not convent bred. I spent the last months with my aunt, the Abbess Gwynllian, but before that I lived at Cythraul,” Rhonwyn told him.

“Let us get into bed, wife, and then you can tell me,” he suggested, releasing his hold on her. Taking the toweling from her, he dried her as best he could and then led her into her bedchamber. Rhonwyn quickly climbed into the bed, and her husband, pulling his sherte off so that he, also, was naked, joined her. It was done so swiftly that she had no time to really examine him as he had examined her. “Now, tell me, Rhonwyn, what is Cythraul?”

“A fortress in the Welshry, my lord. It was only chance that ap Gruffydd discovered my brother and me the day after our mam died from birthing too soon our new sister. When he had buried them, he took Glynn and me to Cythraul and left us in the charge of our kinsman, Morgan ap Owen. That is where we remained until ap Gruffydd came to fetch me several months ago.”

“And you were raised by your kinsman's wife?” de Beaulie asked his bride.

Rhonwyn shook her head. “Cythraul, my lord, is a fortress of men. There were no women there at all. It would have been too dangerous if the English came over the border, you see,” she attempted to explain.

“There were no women at Cythraul?”
He looked down into her face to see if she was making mock of him.

“None, my lord,” Rhonwyn responded softly.

“And would it not have been as dangerous for you and your brother if your enemies attacked this fortress?” he said.

“Perhaps when we were little, before I learned how to be a good soldier, my lord,” she told him frankly.

“A soldier?”
he said weakly. Surely she was mocking him, but he could see that she was quite serious.

“I ride, they say, as if I were part of my horse,” Rhonwyn said. “I can use a sword and main gauche extremely well. I am passably proficient with a mace and a javelin, but it is with an alborium that I excel. I did most of the hunting for Cythraul from the time that I was ten. We ate very well.”

“And your brother is equally soldierly?” She had to be playing a game with him. Women were not soldiers, good or otherwise.

“Glynn has no interests in weapons or war. He is a poet, a singer of songs. ap Gruffydd has no use for him,” Rhonywn explained.

“Rhonwyn, tell me that you are jesting with me,” he begged her.

“Why would I do such a thing, my lord? Nay, I do not jest.”

“But you are so … so beautiful! You are educated,” he said.

“When ap Gruffydd came to Cythraul six months ago and found he had two sons,” she chuckled, “he took me at once to my aunt. All I have learned I learned in the last few months, for I swear to you I could speak no language but my own before then. I knew not our dear Lord Jesus, or anything else, for that matter, but war and weapons. The prince of Wales needed a daughter for this treaty marriage. My aunt saw he got a perfect daughter back, and believe me, it cost him dearly.”

Edward de Beaulie was astounded by her story. “That is why he put the marriage off until now,” he said thoughtfully.

“Aye,” she agreed. “You call me beautiful, my lord. Six months ago I don't think you would have thought so. My father should have put his children with my aunt when he found us nine years ago, but Cythraul was closer, and it was easier to leave us there. Fortunately for my brother and me, our kinsman, Morgan ap Owen, has a large and good heart. I had no woman to model myself after until I went to my aunt the abbess. I am certain that lasses raised in a normal way know enough about consummation not to be considered fools. My aunt is a holy virgin. If she knew of such things, she did not discuss them.”

de Beaulie suddenly laughed. The entire situation was absurd, and yet the upshot was he now had a beautiful wife.

“You find this situation amusing, my lord?” She was puzzled.

“I can but imagine ap Gruffydd's chagrin when he came to fetch you and discovered you as you were. He must have been terrified, at least momentarily,” Edward de Beaulie chuckled.

“You do not like him,” Rhonwyn said.

“I do not dislike him,” her husband quickly replied.

“Nay, my lord, you do not like him,” she insisted. “Neither do I. I doubt I have seen him more than a dozen times in my life. While he was never unkind to us, his passion was for our mother, not his children.”

“But none of what you have told me, Rhonwyn, changes our situation. This marriage between us must be consummated tonight,” he said. Reaching out, he caressed her small breasts tenderly.

Rhonwyn squirmed nervously. “Please, don't,” she told him.

“Why not?” he demanded half angrily.

“I am not used to being touched in so intimate a manner. It unsettles me, my lord.”

“You will grow to like it,” he assured her, brushing his fingertips across her right nipple teasingly.

“
Never!
It is all too possessing, my lord. It is as if you owned me, body and soul,” Rhonwyn cried out softly, moving away from his bedeviling fingers.

“I have already told you, Rhonwyn, that I do own you. You are mine to do with as I please. Our marriage will be consummated tonight. If you let me, I will make the experience as pleasing as possible for you. I am not a man who takes his pleasure heedless of his woman's enjoyment. But whether you will or nay, I will have you, my fair wife.” Then swiftly he was atop her—and as swiftly gasping with surprise at the dagger pressing against his throat. “What, will you kill me then to preserve your virtue, or do you fear I will learn you have no virtue?” he said in a hard voice.

“You will be the only man to have my virtue of me, my lord,” Rhonwyn said, “but I will have something of you in return.”

“What?” He contemplated taking the dagger from her.

“ap Gruffydd will leave Haven once our marriage is consummated, will he not?” she asked.

“Aye. That is why he waits this night to see if he may snatch you back. He will go, however, on the morrow when I show him the bloody bedsheet with the proof of your defloration upon it. Why?”

“You must ask him before he leaves to send my brother, Glynn, to Haven,” Rhonwyn said. “My brother is still a lad. We have never been parted until these past few months. I have seen how much there is in the world since I left Cythraul. I have learned and gained such knowledge as I never knew existed. I want those same advantages for my little brother. He is a gentle soul and does not belong in a fortress of rough men. Only that I was there and as great a roughneck as the others, was I able to protect him. Please, my lord, do this for me, and I will yield myself without further ado to your wishes and desires,” she pleaded softly.
“Please!”

Unexpectedly he grasped her wrist, disarmed her, and threw the dagger across the chamber. He slapped her lightly on the cheek. “In future when you seek a favor from me, Rhonwyn, do not threaten me with a weapon.” Then he pinioned her hard and laughed at the anger in her eyes. “Such a fierce little virgin, it is,” he said crooningly. “I will grant your request, Rhonwyn. Now, what have you for me in return?” His mouth came down hard on hers, forcing her lips to part, and he thrust his tongue into her mouth to ravage hers with wildfire.

Rhonwyn lay still, not knowing what else to do. He was almost gagging her with his tongue, and it was all she could do not to become sick. His lips began to kiss her face and her throat. She shivered. His kisses covered her breasts, her belly. She almost screamed as his fingers began to forage in her nest, pushing through her nether lips. She bit her lips until they bled as his fingers went deeper, slipping into a place she had not even known existed, probing her gently.

“This is the place where our two bodies will be conjoined,” he told her thickly. “It is called your love sheath, and like a sword, my manhood will fill it, Rhonwyn,
now
!” He plunged himself inside her, and Rhonwyn screamed aloud as his manhood made contact with her maidenhead and thrust hard through it.

Oh, God,
she hated this
! It was impossible not to resist him now, and she fought him with all her strength, biting and scratching at him. “No more! No more!” she sobbed, but he only groaned a sound of distinct pleasure and thrust again and again into her body. Finally he stiffened a moment, and then she felt him relax and collapse atop her.

By the rood, the girl had aroused him, much to his surprise. And when she had stopped lying silent and had fought him, his lust had grown so hot he was surprised his head had not exploded. He knew it had not been a good experience for her, and he regretted it. Gently he kissed the tears from her pale cheeks and said, “There, Rhonwyn, it is over and done with now. We have both done our duty, and I shall leave you to recover yourself, wife.” Catching his breath, he climbed from her bed.

Rhonwyn swallowed hard. “Glynn?” she said.

“Your father shall not leave Haven without giving me his promise to send the lad to us, Rhonwyn,” he assured her. “Whatever you may think of me, I want you content.”

“Do we have to? …” The question was unfinished, but he understood.

“Not until we are ready, Rhonwyn. We have done what was expected of us by king and prince. Now we will wait until you are happier. Good night, wife.” He moved through the small arched door separating their bedchambers, and she heard the lock click shut.

For the first time in her life Rhonwyn wept.

Edward heard her on his side of the door and felt sadness that she was so unhappy. Hopefully these feelings would soon pass, especially when her brother arrived. He had never forced a woman in his life. It had never been necessary for him to do so. He felt guilt sweeping over him. Worse was the fact that he had enjoyed her despite everything.
Why?
He shook off the question. She was intelligent, and he had explained the situation to her. Her fears he understood, but her stubborn determination and her sudden threat to his person followed by a demand in exchange for her cooperation had truly infuriated him. She was his wife and therefore belonged to him! She must obey him, and that was all there was to it. Still, he had promised her a respite from his attentions, and he would keep his word. Common sense told him that it could not hurt for them to know one another better. He listened by the connecting door again. Her weeping had died away now, and he felt better for it.

Enit gently shook her mistress awake the following day. “You must wake, my lady. It is time to dress for the mass.” The servant felt shy, for she knew Rhonwyn had lost her maidenhead the previous evening. She had been fearful that the master would be in her lady's bed yet, and was relieved to find it not so. She bustled about the apartment, laying out her mistress's clothing and skirting about the oak tub that still stood before the fire in the dayroom.