Joining (33 page)

Jhone looked at her askance and said merely, “I did not hear you aright.”

“You did. I said nigh the same thing to him last eventide when he told me he enjoys sewing. He admitted he even used to make clothes for our mother.”

“Now I
know
you are jesting,” Jhone retorted. “I am glad that your nervousness has abated long enough for you to make light of this, but—”

“Look at me,” Milisant cut in. “Do I look like I am jesting? And I really do think he made this gown. Look at the stitching. Who do you know at Dunburh who can ply a needle this fine—other than yourself, of course? For that matter, who do you know whom he would trust to
work with this particular cloth, which has been in his keeping all these years since his return from the Crusades—again, other than you?”

Jhone picked up an edge of the silver cloth to examine it more closely. “No one, at least at Dunburh. But then he could have found someone outside of Dunburh to make it. Not that it matters. You still must wear his gift, because he gave it.”

Milisant chuckled. “You have been taking stubbornness lessons from me, eh? ‘Tis not as if I will not have plenty of opportunities to wear the one you made me. These de Thorpes entertain royalty, after all.”

Jhone was appeased somewhat and poked her in the ribs with a bit of teasing. “I still think you will freeze on the way to the village church.”

Milisant smiled in amusement. “Nay, you would not allow that. I trust you will force on me the very heaviest of your cloaks.”

Jhone nodded. “Aye, and I know just the one that will match perfectly, the double-sided white velvet one trimmed in silver fox.”

It was another brief interlude of distraction for which Milisant was grateful, for too quickly her nervousness returned in full measure, and too quickly she was dressed and on her way to the church. And
much
too quickly, she was joined to Wulfric de Thorpe.

She would remember very little about this day, so deep was the daze of her anxiety. It was the culmination of everything she had dreaded, and that dread was full upon her. The slow procession to the church, the long mass, the priest’s intonements, none of that could be recalled with
any clarity. Even the celebration that followed in the Great Hall and lasted the rest of the day was no more than a haze of loud revelry enjoyed by all—except her.

The painfully embarrassing bedding ceremony, in which she must be presented to the groom—and anyone else who managed to crowd into the room—for the supposed search for hidden imperfections that could, if desired, allow repudiation, must have elicited none, since she had been left alone with the groom. Her only consolation to having missed most of her wedding was that she had missed that as well.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you looked today?” Wulfric asked her.

It was the first thing that Milisant actually heard clearly, after hearing naught but indistinguishable babble all day. “Not that I recall.”

“Actually, I was jesting, since I must have told you at least a half dozen times,” Wulfric said, then, “You really do not recall?”

“Certainly, I was jesting as well,” she lied, and had to wonder what else had been said to her in the last hours that she had no memory of.

She realized she was a bit intoxicated, though she did not remember drinking any wine. But despite the relaxing benefit of the wine, it was still disconcerting to become suddenly aware that nigh the entire day had passed as if she had not been there. To find herself in bed with a husband, both of them completely naked. To wonder—
Jesu,
had she missed the bedding as well? Was it over? And finally, to wish that she could go back to being—not there.

“Have we—finished here?” she asked.

He laughed. She scowled. It had been a reasonable question, she thought.

“I find I want to wait until your mind is cleared of the wine haze, but I find also that I cannot wait any longer, when it does seem like I have already waited forever. A fine dilemma, wouldst you not agree?”

“Nay, seems easily decided to me,” she said with an emphatic nod. “You wait.”

He chuckled. She scowled again.
What
did he find so amusing?

Unfortunately, with her awareness returned, so, too, were her feelings for him fully remembered, including her most recent rage over that incident with the whore. She almost scrambled from the bed, she was suddenly so furious again, would have if, in doing so, she would not have lost the sheet that presently covered them both.

It was impossible for him not to notice the change in her, which prompted a sigh and, “What now?”

He was
not
going to know that she couldn’t stand it, the thought of him touching that woman, or any other woman for that matter, so she said merely, if quite rudely, “Did you clean yourself thoroughly after bedding that whore?”

His new expression said she had baffled him completely. “What whore?”

“There have been that many for you not to remember?” she fairly growled, then, “The one you left the hall with the other day.”

He stared at her blankly for an extended moment,
but then he burst out laughing. “You thought I bedded her?” He laughed yet again.

Milisant had no trouble understanding his humor this time. As Jhone had warned her might be the case, she had apparently jumped to the wrong conclusion that day, and he found that hilarious.

Despite her embarrassment, she still asked, “Then why did you leave with her?”

“Mayhap to find out who she was and why she was working in the hall that day, particularly in readying the tables for the meal, when she was not a Shefford servant and thus had no business being there.”

“She came not with one of the guests?”

“Nay, and she gave my mother an excuse which she doubted, which was why she had asked me to question her, Milisant. She was worried that the woman was there to cause mischief, or more to the point, serious harm—to
you.”

Jesu,
his reason had to involve her? But she was forgetting one other matter.

“‘Twas necessary for you to put your arm around her to find that out?”

He shrugged. “I felt her unease as I was taking her from the hall. I wanted to make sure she did not bolt from me. Alas, she did just that as soon as we reached the crowded bailey, nor was she found again. That she ran proves she was up to no good, so ‘tis unlikely she will try again, now we are aware of that, and I have men watching for her.”

“How did she manage to enter the castle if
she is not of Shefford, nor came with the guests?”

“She had claimed to be a cousin of one of the villeins. He had agreed to say she was a relative in return for her favors, but he had had no intention of supporting the lie, other than with his neighbors. When I put the question to him, he immediately admitted the truth.”

She had no further questions herself to ask on the matter, just the embarrassment remaining, of accusing him of something he had not done. She ought to apologize, was about to, but he had more to say.

“I will allow you your fits and rages, but not here,” he told her.

“Fits?” she sputtered.

“Whatever you wish to call your unreasonable temper. You will not bring it to our bed. Here you will have only good feelings, and think only of pleasing me. I will likewise think only of the pleasure I want to visit on you in full measure. Can you agree to that? And keep in mind ere you answer that I could forbid you your anger at any time.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “You cannot control another’s anger.”

“True, but I can make it very unpleasant for you to reveal yours.”

The conclusion that statement prompted had her retorting, “You think to beat it out of me?”

“Nay, but a time spent in the solar every time you raise your voice in anger—I think eventually you will be very soft-spoken and wear naught but smiles. Actually, ‘tis not a bad idea.”

He sounded like he was teasing, he really did,
yet
Jesu,
he was talking about locking her up, and
often.
She could not take the chance.

“I agree,” she mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I said I agree to your terms!” she snapped.

“Hmm, when do you intend to start then?”

She blushed. She closed her eyes against his smile. She was still amusing him, apparently, while she had to make unreasonable
compromises.
It was so blasted unfair. Not even wed a full day, yet already he was asserting his new power over her.

Forty-six

When Milisant’s silence
continued and her eyes stayed closed, Wulfric’s finger came to her brow and she heard in a soft tone, “Is it so hard for you to not be angry with me for a little while?”

She groaned inwardly. She wanted to say aye just on principle, but that would be a lie. There had been times when she had not been angry with him for one reason or another, times even when he had made her laugh, and certainly times when he—well, when he confused her so much she didn’t know what to think or feel.

At the moment he had defused her real anger by explaining about the whore. She was only annoyed now that he was laying down rules for her already, but she supposed she
could
leave that annoyance for another time.

She opened her eyes again. She found a new warmth in his. He had been staring at her all the while she wasn’t looking, and possibly thinking of that pleasure he had mentioned earlier. She had not listened clearly to those words when said, because of what he had added about
her anger, but she recalled them now. I
will likewise think only of the pleasure I want to visit on you in full measure.

Her stomach swirled unexpectedly.
Jesu,
he
wanted
to give her pleasure? And she knew that he could, for he had done it before.

She had tried so hard not to think of that pleasure after that night, or want it again. Mostly she had managed to force it far from her thoughts, yet it was so hard. It had been so nice, so worthy of repeating. He could also send all her thoughts flying, and she did fear that, but ‘twas a small price to pay for the pleasure she remembered—which she could now experience again.

A shyness came upon her. He was patiently awaiting an answer. But concessions were not easy by any means. And her stubbornness wouldn’t let her make them outright—if she didn’t have to.

So she said finally, “Hard, aye.” But before he could take exception to that truth, she added a slight smile to make it more palatable for him, as well as, “But not impossible.”

He chuckled. “Verily, I would have expected no other answer from you. And I
will
appreciate whatever effort it costs you to keep peace in here. I will also make every effort on my part to assure that you do not regret it.”

“That sounds—promising.”

“Mayhap you need a demonstration?”

It occurred to her suddenly that from the moment the daze left her enough so that she became aware of him next to her in the bed, possibly before that, he had not been his usual
self. As before, his behavior toward her was completely different when he was in this seducing frame of mind, which was all she could think to call his present behavior. And amazingly enough, she liked him when he was like this.

She had a suspicion that it would not be so hard, after all, to set any anger she might be feeling aside whenever they did share a bed. She had a feeling, also, that she was about to find that out for sure, when the fingers at her brow moved slowly down to her chin to angle her face just right to receive his kiss.

And it was an amazing kiss—tender, then hard, then tender, then so heated she thought her lips might combust under his. What made it amazing, though, was how quickly she responded to each nuance of it. Now that she was willing, or rather, accepting, even—anticipating, that they were finally going to get to the bedding part of the joining, she was more relaxed about it, her fear forgotten for the moment. And that left all of her senses unencumbered so she could experience it more fully. And she did.

Slowly, tentatively, she even participated in the kissing. Actually, she was not being daring about it, she simply couldn’t seem to help herself. She suddenly
needed
to know the taste of him, the exact texture of his lips, just how hot his tongue was. It was incredible. The more she kissed him back, the more she wanted to.

She had been sitting with her back against the pillows, the sheet clutched to her breasts. The sheet had fallen now as her arms wrapped about Wulfric’s neck. She didn’t notice that. She didn’t
notice either that he was slowly moving her down until she was lying there, with him leaning over her.

His hair tickled her neck as it fell against her. His breath fanned hotly against her face as his lips moved about in further exploration. His tongue licked at her ear. Shivers raced down her spine just before she gasped in delight. His teeth nipped at her neck. She moaned softly. She heard an answering groan from him, felt his body strain to contain what he was himself feeling.

Her thoughts fast deserted her. It was all feeling now, all exquisite sensation, the taste and scent of him, and then the caressing… In combination with the kissing, it was nigh too much. The hand at her breast was kneading, gently pulling, then suddenly his mouth was there, closing around the turgid nipple, drawing it deeper into his mouth while his tongue laved against it.