Lady of Fire (29 page)

"All right."

He could tell by her terse reply that she was mortified by the prospect of having a dozen or so men see her bedded according to custom. He slipped a reassuring arm about her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Nay, they do not stay—my father will see to that. He has ordered more wine to be brought out so that they may revel into the night."

"Do they have to look on me?" she managed even as her face flamed. She caught the glimmer of amusement in Roger's eyes and flared, "Well, I have never wedded nor bedded before—I know not what to expect!"

"And I have never wedded before either, Lea—nay, do not look at me like you would box my ears—'twas not my meaning," he protested. "But I have witnessed the bedding before and I can tell you that they will strip me, say all manner of vulgar things, and put me into bed with you. someone will witness that my leg touches yours—that is all—and then they will leave if someone drags them off." He fingered a lock of hair, twirling it absently.

She pulled away nervously and shook her hair free. "Don't do that!" He looked down in surprise and she reddened again. "I am sorry, Roger—I… I am unreasonably cross."

"And you are afraid," he finished for her. "Aye, I understand, Lea, but you fear for naught—but we can speak of it later when we are more private. For now, drink your wine and watch that girl in the green." He pointed out to her where he looked. "See—I swear her joints are not the same as ours. Look at that! Could you walk over your head like that?"

"Well, I would not want to—you can see her legs when she does it."

"Aye." He turned back to stare at Eleanor, his gaze warm and intimate. "I would want you to do it only for me, of course." He watched her color yet again, the pink diffusing through her cheeks becomingly. Jesu, he thought, she is beautiful and she is mine. Mine! His heart seemed to swell with pride at the thought. For her, everything had to be right and good and he would see that it was. She would always have the best that he could give her of himself and of material wealth. Even his legitimacy took on a special significance because it was something more that he could bring to her. In time, he could make her a countess.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Earl Richard summon one of the maids to the dais. It was time. He stood and pulled Eleanor up after him. The music and acrobatics stopped as all eyes turned to them. With his free hand Roger lifted his cup high and called out, "I ask you all to wish my wife a long life of happiness as you join me with your cups." He swallowed a long draft to the cheers of Richard's household and guests. A slightly drunk knight yelled back, " 'Tis the custom to wish her fruitful, my lord."

Soon the hall was enveloped in chaos as everyone seemed to vie with everyone else in toasting the bride. " 'Tis now, Lea," Roger shouted over the din. "Run!"

Both Eleanor and the maid lifted their skirts and hurried for the door. Once out of the great hall, they were joined by several other maids and all ran for the tower bower where she would spend her wedding night. Richard's chamberlain lit the way for them and then stayed long enough to inspect the room to make sure servants had left everything in order. Then he withdrew and left them alone to get her ready for bed.

While one of the tiring women pulled off her gown and undershift, others turned back the bed and smoothed the fresh sheets. Still another prepared a tray with wine cups and fruits and cheeses to be set on a table near the bed. When a maid approached with her hairbrush, Eleanor remembered Roger's advice and shook her head.

"But madam," the girl protested, "it will tangle and get in the way."

"My lord likes it down," she managed as she fought rising panic. In a matter of minutes the room would be filled with strangers come to see her bedded, and then she and Roger would be alone—alone to do whatever it was they would do. By now she had a notion of what would happen from what she'd gleaned in snatches of conversations between the maids. It sounded distasteful and it sounded painful, but she'd made her commitment in Holy Church to Roger and she would not draw back now.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Eleanor pulled away from those who yet attempted to straighten her hair and tore open the bed curtains before scrambling frantically between the sheets. The door burst open to admit a crowd of men who pushed a half-naked Roger ahead of them. Eleanor clutched the sheets tightly under her chin and sat up. Her dark hair tumbled down over shoulders and sheets in a cascade of lustrous waves. Rannulf of Chester swaggered over for a closer look, leering and telling her that she at least knew the proper place to await her lord. Her eyes seemed enormous in her face when Roger turned around to face her. They'd finished undressing him and several pushed him toward the bed while making obscene comments about his physique and offering advice on the best way to take a virgin. Before any could lift the sheets, Roger pushed them back.

"Move over, Lea, and let me in before they do me further harm." He tried to speak lightly to hide his own tension at finally being able to lie with her. She edged away while still tightly holding the covers against her. He heaved himself into the deep feather bed beside her and sat up. "At least give me a corner, Lea, if you do not mind. After all, 'tis not your body they laugh at." His teasing fell on unresponsive ears. Finally he reached over and gently disengaged a corner for himself and drew the sheet over both of them. Sliding his foot over to rub against the calf of her leg, he motioned his father to approach. Earl Richard nodded and announced, "They are bedded. Let us go back and finish the rest of the wine—the jongleur and the acrobats stay to perform yet again."

"Aye!" Rannulf snouted. "And I get the one in the green!" He laughed at Eleanor's shocked expression. "I would see what lies above those legs of hers!"

With more ribald comments, the men gradually filed out. Roger quickly rose to bar the door after them. "Jesu, Lea, but I thought I should never have you to myself." He stopped to pour wine into the cups and brought them back to the bed. "Here, drink this—'twill make you feel better."

"Roger, if I drink any more, I shall either be sick or too drunk to know what happens," she protested.

"Lea—" He hesitated while he tried to calm his own racing heart. He wanted her and he wanted her now, but his mind counseled caution. She was obviously afraid. He swallowed some of the wine to wet his dry mouth. "Would you like for me to braid your hair so that it does not tangle while… while you sleep?" His hands seemed to shake as he set aside his cup.

"I don't care."

The wind was coming up, bringing with it the smell of new rain. Roger walked over to open the shutters and to let the breeze cool the heat he felt in his body. He wanted to get back into the bed and throw himself over her to slake the intense desire he felt for her, but this was no serving wench nor free-favored lady of Normandy's court. This was Eleanor of Nantes, his Lea, the woman he'd wanted and fought to have for years. With her, he had to go slowly, to woo gently, to teach lovingly. With her, it had to be a union of spirit as well as flesh. He moved back to sit on the side of the bed.

"Lea—" He reached to clasp her hand. It was small and cold in his. "Lea, I know you are afraid, but I will help you. I am the same man you have known since we were children, love." He tried to keep his voice even and calm, but it sounded strange even to his own ears. "If you will but do as I ask, it will be fine, I promise." He turned to watch her face in the flickering candlelight. She seemed as still as though she were carved out of a fine white stone. Only the rise and fall of the sheet against her breast when she breathed betrayed life. "Lea…"He sought words of explanation and could find none. Finally he looked away with a sigh. "It has been some time since I've laid with a woman, Lea, and I do not know if I can wait until you are ready. I will try not to hurt you this time, love, and I can tell you that after this once, there is no pain." He felt her hand tighten in his as she squeezed his fingers.

"Roger, I love you," she whispered in the dimness behind him. "I always have and I always will. Nothing you could possibly do to me would change that." When he turned to her, he could feel as well as see her timid smile. "Aye, I am afraid, but I will survive because I know you love me."

"Sweet Mary, but I love you, Lea," he managed as he rolled into bed and enveloped her in his arms. "I will do my best to please you." She turned against him, small, soft, warm, and trusting. An overwhelming need to protect her flooded over him. "Would you have the candles doused or left lit?"

" 'Tis up to you, my lord husband," she murmured against the hard flesh of his shoulder.

"Well, I would see what I could of you even in this light," he answered. "Aye, I would watch your face." He shifted her position slightly and bent to brush her forehead lightly with his lips. "Art beautiful, Lea." His fingers kneaded the bare skin of her shoulders as his mouth sought hers. Even as her lips parted, desire flamed through him.

He twisted and turned hungrily against her while exploring her mouth, her earlobes, her neck, and her throat with his mouth. She twined her arms around his neck and tried to press against him. She could feel the hard muscles that corded his back, shoulders, and upper arms, and his strength fed her own desire. When his mouth moved lower to savor the taste of her breasts, her hands worked ceaselessly to caress his back and then to ruffle the thick waves of his hair.

Gradually he let his hand brush lower and lower as it moved from cupping her breast to stroking the soft smoothness of her flat belly and then to the wetness below. She recoiled briefly when he touched her there, and then closed her eyes in pleasure as he began to stroke the entrance to her body.

It seemed that every sense was centered somewhere deep within her belly as something tautened inside and strained to reach some unknown ecstasy. His mouth and his hands felt as though they were everywhere now. Finally he moved back to her lips for one last, long, deep kiss before parting her legs with his knee and easing his body over hers. Instinctively she settled beneath him and clutched at his waist.

"Do not draw away," he whispered hoarsely even as he sought her body with his own. For answer, she twined her legs over his and moved against him.

For one brief moment, when hard flesh met soft, she could feel her body resist his, then give way before him. A sharp tearing sensation made her stiffen and then there was a flood of warmth as two bodies joined. He held himself still inside her for a moment while he whispered anxiously, "Are you all right, Lea? The bad has ended."

For answer, she held him closer and nodded. Her eyes were still closed as he watched her when he began to move. "I love you, Lea," were his last coherent words as she strove to match his rhythm. It was as though they worked to meld themselves into each other, becoming one in a mindless, overwhelming desire to give and receive the extraordinary pleasure of each other's bodies. Roger fought to maintain enough control to satisfy Eleanor, but abstinence and the culmination of years of wanting made it nearly impossible to master what had become a raging need of his own. With a cry of release, he drove himself home deep within her and then collapsed breathless against her.

He could feel the beating of her heart and hear her ragged breathing beneath him. It came home again to him just how small and delicate she was in spite of her passion. He rolled over and away from her, pulling her hair. Propping himself up on an elbow, he disentangled the silky mass and then smoothed it away from her face. Her eyes were still closed, but he could watch her swallowing as she gained command of her own emotions. He bent to brush her lips softly. "Heaven… Lea, you have given me heaven."

She opened her eyes under his gaze and blushed furiously at his expression. Then her face broke into a warm smile that lit his heart. He pulled her closer and hugged her to him.

"Was it bad? Did I hurt you?" he asked above her ear. His arm closed protectively around her waist. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine, my lord husband." She managed to turn over in his arms and face him. "Roger, why did you not tell me it would be like that? Why did you let me worry so?"

"I could not tell you how it would be, Lea—it is different for a woman than for a man. Besides, I feared to disgust you."

She snuggled against him and rested her head beneath his chin. "Nay, you did not disgust me. Do you remember what you said to me in Fuld Nevers' stronghold? That there was nothing wrong with me? Well, I did not believe you until tonight." She burrowed closer as his arms tightened around her. "Oh, Roger, I do love you."

"You are sure you are all right? You are so small that I feared to crush you."

"Well, you did not." She stretched out a white arm for him to see in the dim candlelight. "Behold—I still have two whole arms and two whole legs—I am alive and well."

"Ummmmm." He nuzzled the top of her head. "Your hair smells of honeysuckle." His hand brushed it away from her temple.

"Ummmmhmmmm." She stretched against him and stifled a yawn.

"Are you sleepy, Lea?"

"A little. Why? Did you want to lay with me again?"

"I am lying with you."

"You know what I mean."

"Nay—there is always tomorrow and years after then. Turn over and let me just hold you." When she did as he told her, he tucked an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. "Go on to sleep."

"Are you sure?" Her eyes were heavy as she suppressed another yawn. The excitement of the day and the physical satisfaction of their lovemaking made her drowsy. A gust of wind caught at the bed curtains as rain began to pelt against stone walls and hit like pebbles in the lake below. He was warm, he was safe, she was secure. She settled comfortably in his arms and drifted into sleep even as the storm came up.

Sleep did not come to him for a long time. He lay close to her and savored the feel of her body against his. He felt too elated to give up his consciousness—his mind, his heart, every fiber of his being seemed to sing out, "She is mine!" After years of striving for the impossible dream, that dream had become reality and Eleanor of Nantes lay against him in the flesh. His hand moved again to push back the heavy hair that fell over her face and he could feel the soft warmth of her breath against his palm. A surge of emotion overwhelmed him—she was his to love, his to protect, his to keep. No longer did he have to imagine her coming to him in his dreams. She had given herself to him and that giving exceeded anything he could have imagined. Aye, it was more than the act itself—it was the intense union of body and spirit that gave him fulfillment.