Demetrius (Brethren Origins Book 2) (22 page)

“From the brooch.”  She scooted from the bed and retrieved the captivating pin, which she handed to him, and then she huddled under the blankets.  “When thou didst gift me the precious badge, I wore it on my chemise.  Indeed, I never took it off, except to bathe and don a fresh slip.  But regardless of when I slept, I revisited the same reverie, without fail.  Dost thou not understand?  The lore is not some harmless tale.  Thou art my one true knight.”

“Athel, thou art leaping to unsupported conclusions.”  He seemed so calm in the face of her revelation, as he studied the brooch.  “Mayhap my story influenced thy dreams.”

“But thou hast never told me of the conflict, and I only just spied the mark, as thou hast never permitted me to glimpse thy nude body.”  She had to make him believe in the legend, as it just might renew his faith.  “Its powers are real, and it is a gift from Our Lord, as naught that predicts love can be evil.”

“Sweetheart, despite the fact that I am fond of ye, we married because the King commanded it.”  He drew an imaginary circle about her nipple.  “But I count myself fortunate.”

“Nay, thou wilt not deter me.”  When he moved the tray to the side table, and sidled next to her, she reclined in the pillows.  “I care not for the King’s decree.  Thou were meant to be mine, and I am thine.  Thou mayest not doubt that--not now.  Indeed, not ever.”

DEMETRIUS

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Four days anon
, Demetrius emerged from his chamber a contented man, with visions of a naked and sated Athelyna dancing in his brain.  Whistling a happy tune, he strutted into the Great Hall to partake of a light sop before weapons practice.

“I do not believe my eyes.”  Aristide smirked.  “It lives.”

“And he hath definitely shrunk.”  Morgan pounded the table.  “But I am grateful for thy return, brother, as we have taken turns fighting Arucard, and thou art the only one capable of deflecting his attack.”

“Our brother hath grown arrogant in thy absence.”  Geoffrey rubbed his jaw.  “He clipped my chin yesterday, but thou would not know, as thou hast confined thyself to thy quarters.”

And so the baiting commenced, not that Demetrius cared.  Indeed, the more he pondered his warm bed, and his wife’s soft and inviting body, he reversed his decision to partake of his usual activities and opted to rejoin his bride.

“Demetrius, wilt thou have something to eat?”  Isolde set a napkin and a trencher across from Arucard.  “Mayhap thou wilt enjoy a bit of conversation with my husband, whilst I tend Athel, as I suspect she would benefit from a hot bath, and she will require assistance I am too happy to provide.”

With an unruly dragon in his breeches, he hesitated.

“Sit, brother, and fill thy belly.”  Bearing a half-smile, Arucard dipped a chunk of bread and paused.  “Trust me, thy wife is not going anywhere.  And after four days in thy unreserved company, it is doubtful she could walk down the stairs without aid.”

“Art thou not the wit.”  He took his place and designed a sweet invasion, which further aroused him, but all he wanted was to return to Athel’s embrace.  The now familiar hunger burgeoned, and he ached to run back to his room, back to his sanctuary, back to his Athelyna.  “Arucard, given thou dost love Isolde, mayhap thou can tell me how ye dost manage, after what happened in Winchester?”  In a low voice, Demetrius said, “My greatest fear is losing Athel.”

“Thou dost want the truth?”  When Demetrius nodded, Arucard leaned near.  “Thither art times when I want naught more than to lock Isolde and Roswitha in our quarters, but my wife and daughter hath committed no crime, so I can hardly impose such punishment.  But I would caution ye not to overreact, else ye may offend thy bride.  Never forget she is thy partner, not thy property.”

“And I am her steadfast servant.”  Demetrius mulled his next move, as he entered unfamiliar territory, and he needed advice.  “So when thou didst woo Isolde, what expressions of affection worked best to win her heart?”

For a few minutes, Arucard scrutinized Demetrius and cast a sly grin.  “Thou art interested in thy wife’s devotion?”

“I am aware that is a change in tune.”  He braced for ensuing jokes at his expense.  “And thou canst spare me the criticism or amusing remarks.”

“Given I have walked in thy shoes, I would not dream of it.”  Arucard chuckled.  “But I can offer suggestions to help smooth rough waters, as courtship is far more perilous than the most lethal battle.”

“I am listening.”  He shifted his hips, as his senses called to Athel.

“When in season, bring her flowers.  Find an outdoor spot, a private place to spend time with her, as that is the most important commodity thou canst gift her.”  Arucard inclined his head and narrowed his stare.  “Never tell her she is fat, especially when she increases with thy babe.  And take her a morning meal, as she will express her gratitude in a manner that pleases ye both.”

In that instant, Demetrius flagged a maid.  “Prepare a tray for Lady Athelyna.”

“Aye, my lord.”  The girl rushed to the kitchen.

“Any news since St. Valentine’s Day?” Demetrius queried.

“I had a missive from His Majesty.”  Arucard wiped his dish clean.  “Thou art to depart for Winchester in three days.”

“Mayhap we can send the wagons ahead, with some servants, so the castle will be ready when we arrive.”  He made a few calculations.  “But we have no housekeeper or marshalsea.”

“Well, perchance I can provide a solution.”  With his napkin, Arucard daubed the corners of his mouth.  “Grimbaud and Isotta would fill the positions, and given thy wife’s treatment of Grimbaud and friendship with Isotta, it should work.”

“I would be glad to have them, if thou canst spare them.”  The maid brought Athel’s meal, and Demetrius stood.  “Thus I have Briarus as my majordomo, and I have yet to discern in what capacity I might use Gerwald.”

“He shows an advanced aversion to work of any kind.”  Arucard suddenly brightened.  “Ah, hither comes my lady, which means thy wife is prepared to receive ye, and I believe I shall forgo weapons practice, too.”

After collecting Athel’s food, Demetrius retraced his earlier steps.  In the solar, he put away his sword and coif, and then he tugged off his hauberk.  When he entered the bedchamber, he found his bride curled beneath the covers.

“Good morrow, sweetheart.”  He bowed and presented her sustenance.  “Art thou hungry?”

“Oh, Demetrius, thou art so thoughtful.”  As she sat upright, the sheet dropped to her waist, revealing her sumptuous breasts, and she patted the mattress.  “Wilt thou break thy fast with me?  And afterward, I should express my gratitude for thy consideration.”

In silence, Demetrius thanked Arucard.

#

On the eve of her departure for Winchester, Athelyna inventoried additional wagonloads of items.  Given Grimbaud and Isotta embarked on the journey two days prior, along with the bulk of their belongings and the garrison of three hundred soldiers, Athel had not much to pack, other than the few comforts of home she would employ to make their nights more pleasant.

“How goes thy chores, sweetheart?”  Demetrius hugged her from behind and kissed her ear.

“I believe I am done.”  Resting against him, she angled her head in perfect position to receive his kiss.  It still surprised her how much he had changed in so little time.  While she worried about his salvation, given he would not pray, she did not criticize him, as she would not risk ruining their newfound intimacy.  “And what of thy tasks?”

“The same.”  Trailing playful nibbles along the curve of her neck, he cupped her breast, and she sighed.  “And Arucard hath offered to loan us his large traveling bedframe, if thou art interested.”

“While it is a nice gesture, I would decline.”  She wiggled her hips.  “As I am looking forward to making love in our smaller one.”  Then she burst out laughing.  “Oh, my lord.  Dost thou recall our first night on the road, when we took turns knocking each other to the ground?”

“I was trying to be polite.”  He drew her into their inner chamber.  “But those days have long since passed, and I would indulge in a bit of exercise, right now, if thou art amenable.”

“Under normal circumstances, I would satisfy ye, my lusty knight, but I promised Isolde I would help with the feast in our honor.”  In a swift shuffle, she eluded his grasp, and he cast an irresistible pout that brought her right back to his arms.  As she squeezed his waist, she suckled his lower lip.  “I missed ye this morning.”

“My brothers wanted to engage in a final weapons practice, given I will not be hither to defend them against Arucard’s vicious molinetto.”  He rocked, and his stout man’s yard snared her attention.  “Prithee, Athel, as I ache for ye, and I cannot wait until we retire.”

“All right, I relent, but thou must be quick about it.”  She untied his breeches and braies and found him hot and unyielding as forged iron.  “And do not tangle my hair, as I must get to the kitchen.”

“Trust me, it will not take much, as I am more than ready for ye.”  He lifted her to the bed, flicked up her skirts, knelt between her thighs, entered her in a single powerful thrust, and halted.  “Thou dost slay me, sweetheart.  Thy succulent sheath doth offer an oasis of bliss, such that I cannot discern fantasy from reality, and if I had my choice, I would never separate from ye.”

“Demetrius, thou art my one true knight.”  As he moved within her, Athel framed his face and pulled him to her.  Enticing heat simmered in her veins, and desire licked at her senses.  “And I will do whatever thou dost ask, as I am thine to command.”

As he found his rhythm, she curled about him, as he preferred, and he took her hard and fast.  But to his credit, he always made sure she found completion before him and never withdrew in haste.  Nay, he held her, and they kissed.  It was in those cherished moments that Athel’s love grew, and she vowed to protect and defend her man.

In keeping with his routine, he claimed her a second time.  Whereas their initial couplings often resulted in swift release for him, the follow-up featured the softest caresses and tender words of devotion that brought her to tears.  Thither she found unequivocal acceptance, and she labored to extend the same to her husband.

Anon, they righted their clothes, and Athelyna assessed her appearance in the mirror.  “I smell stewed beef.”  She gave Demetrius a quick hug and ran through the solar.  “Thus I am late.”

Soon the beverages flowed, the dining commenced, and the Brethren provided roasting of a different sort.  But when her husband claimed the floor, Athel lamented their impending departure.

“My friends, my family, words cannot adequately express the gratitude Athel and I hold for Chichester and its inhabitants.  Given this was our first home as a married couple, we shall always recall our time hither with fondness.  And thou wilt have accommodations in Winchester, if ye ever have need of it.  Remember, we art but a two-day ride away, and our door is forever open to ye.”  Demetrius raised high his tankard.  “Let us toast to the future and all its possibilities.”