The Conqueror (Hot Knights) (16 page)

She hurriedly climbed out of the bed, then slipped on her gunna and shoes and left. Jobert let out a deep sigh. If he concentrated on the pain in his shoulder rather than lustful thoughts, he might grow flaccid enough that he could make water.

Alan rushed in a few moments later. “What’s wrong? Lady Edeva came and said you need me.”

“Bring me the chamber pot.”

When they had accomplished the thing, Jobert lay back, sweating from the pain.

“Would you like some poppy?”

“Mayhaps I would. But first, we will talk.”

Alan’s face grew guarded. “You know what I think of the woman.”

“Yea, I know. But I am commander here, and ’tis my opinion that matters. She’s not to be harassed or interfered with.”

“Even if she is a Saxon spy?”

“Her loyalties do not concern me.”

“You care not if she meets with the rebels and aids them in overthrowing you?”

“She would not.”

“Hah! While you were away, she went to the village and there met with a Saxon warrior. What could they be planning except treachery?”

“Undoubtedly she has kin among the rebels. It means nothing.”

“Nothing? How can you be so sure of her?”

“Because I am.”

Alan’s face set in bitter lines, then he went out.

Jobert shifted on the bed. Edeva had gone to the village and met a Saxon warrior. It meant nothing. He was sure of her. Wasn’t he?

* * *

“You seem better.”

He smiled at her. “That must mean that the one who nurses me is skilled.”

Edeva felt herself flush with pleasure.

“In fact, I feel well enough that I would like to shave and bathe today.”

“Should I call for Fornay?”

“Nay, I would have you tend me.”

His voice was soft, teasing. Edeva felt the blood spread from her face to other parts of her body. She met his gaze. “Are you certain you trust me with a knife at your throat?”

His green eyes sparkled. “’Twould be witless to murder a man whose life you saved. A practical woman like you can easily see that.”

Practical. He thought her practical. ’Twas why he kept her around, so she could maintain his household. “I’ll go order some hot water,” she said.

On the way down the stairs, she tried to collect herself. Not a sennight ago, he had been near death. She should not be thinking base thoughts about a wounded man. ’Twas unseemly.

But the expression on his face had brought those ideas to mind. She could swear that he looked forward to having her touch his naked body as much as she anticipated it.

A pleasant kind of torment. To touch him and remember what they had shared, and yet know that they could do nothing more. How long would it take him to heal, before he was well enough to...

She must not entertain such thoughts. Her hands would shake and she would indeed cut his throat as she shaved him!

She found some squires in the stables and bid them bring hot water for the lord’s bath. Several of them asked whether he was mending well, and she reassured them that he was.

Still feeling nervous, she stopped in the hall to look in on Wulfget. The young woman appeared much better than Edeva could have hoped. There was color in her cheeks, and she was sitting up. “Where’s Alan?” she asked as Edeva greeted her

“He has many duties. I’m certain he is attending to them.”

Some of the glow in Wulfget’s cheeks faded at this news. Edeva decided that she should talk to Jobert about his captain and the village girl.

When she reached the bedchamber, Jobert was sitting up and trying to get out of bed. His face was ashen, and his limbs trembled with the effort. Edeva raced to him. “Nay, you must not rise! You’ll hurt yourself!”

He allowed her to help him back into the bed, then lay there panting. “Jesu, I hate this! I cannot bear to be so helpless. Let me rest a moment and I will try again.”

“And where will you go?” she asked caustically. “If, by some miracle, you do reach the bathing tub, you will have to remain there. I will never be able to get you back into bed by myself.”

Jobert lifted his head, then lay back, again, swearing. “Stop it,” she said. “I will bathe you where you lay. That is the best we can do.”

White-faced, he nodded.

While she waited for the water to arrive, Edeva fussed with drying clothes and found something clean for Jobert to wear. She avoided looking at the bed, knowing that he was embarrassed by his weakness.

Finally, the hot water arrived. Edeva had them place the buckets by the bed, then shooed the squires out.

She rolled up her sleeves and dipped a cloth into the hot water. Taking a deep breath, she approached the bed and started to pull back the covers, then paused. “I’ll have someone fetch coals for the brazier. You’ll grow chilled otherwise.”

She ran down to the hall to find a servant to carry up glowing coals to fill the brazier. With this task was done, she once again took up the wet cloth.

“Should you not shave me first?” he asked.

She nodded, grateful for the reprieve. After wetting his whiskers with hot water and soap, she sharpened a blade on a whetstone. Praying her hands would not shake, she began to shave him.

She concentrated intently on her task, trying to remain unaffected by his nearness. ’Twas no different than sewing a straight seam, she told herself.

“Mayhaps I should have you cut my hair,” he said, as she was finishing.

She paused, hands in midair. “Why?”

“’Tis the Norman way.”

“Which you have not followed so far,” she pointed out.

A faint smile lit his features. “Do you like my hair worn long?”

“Yea, it makes you look more like a Saxon.” She flushed. ’Twas likely not the best thing to say, but it was true. She had found it difficult to get used to the way Norman men shaved their faces and cut their hair above their ears.

“If it pleases you, I will keep it long,” he said.

An ache of tenderness went through her to think he cared for her opinion.

She wiped the soap from his face and put the shaving things away. Then, when she could delay no longer, she uncovered his chest and dipped a cloth in a bucket of fresh water.

She drew the cloth along his neck, over his good shoulder and arm. He lay still, his eyes half-closed. She rinsed out the cloth and gingerly washed his underarm. He did not seem ticklish. It was she who quivered as she soaped the tawny hair there.

After rinsing what she had washed so far, she started on his chest. His nipples puckered as she touched one of them, and Edeva felt her own nipples tighten in response.

As she had been the first time she bathed him, she found herself intently aware of every detail of his body: the way the hair on his chest was less red than that on his belly, the planes of his hard muscles visible beneath the skin, the corded strength of his neck.

The sight and feel of him made her feel hot and dizzy. She wanted to press her mouth to his skin, to taste him.

Instead, she rinsed the soap away and began on his other side. Washing around the wound took some care, distracting her from her provocative thoughts and reminding her that he was not yet mended. She was almost calm and collected as she helped him sit up so she could bathe his back.

Then it came time to do his lower body.

She spread a cloth over his chest so he would not get chilled and pulled the covers lower. All her nonchalance vanished at the sight of his engorged shaft.

She froze as the vivid, shocking memories came rushing back. The feel of him inside her, stretching, filling and bringing her to ecstatic completion.

Swallowing, she leaned over the bucket of water and rinsed out the cloth. Surely her face was ablaze, her lewd reveries transparently obvious. What did he think of her? Did her embarrassment amuse him? She could not know unless she looked at his face, and she would not do that.

Somehow she got a grip on her nerves and returned to her task. With the blanket pulled farther down, she began to wash the less distressing parts, his legs and feet. She took her time, fighting for some relief to her turmoil. Mayhaps if he grew chilled, his erection would shrivel and she would not have to face it.

Silently, she cursed the brazier, which was now putting out substantial heat. He was not likely to get cold. For that matter, the water would warm him. The thought of him swelling and rising beneath her fingers disconcerted her even more.

“Do you wish me to turn over?” he asked.

Edeva let out the breath she had been holding, “Can you manage it?”

“If you aid me.”

Helplessly, she glanced at his face, then downward. “What do you want me to do?”

“Lean close and support my shoulder.”

She did as he bid, and then stepped back. This view was only a little less titillating. Broad, well-muscled shoulders and taut, rounded buttocks formed an enticing picture of masculine pulchritude.

All at once, she gave up. Why fight the hunger his body aroused? Why not enjoy it? Certainly, he felt no discomfort. Her glimpse of his face had confirmed that. She did not see a man undergoing a miserable ordeal. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, a distinctly lascivious look in his eyes. Whatever pain his shoulder gave him, he had forgotten it for now.

She rinsed the cloth and prepared to enjoy herself. This time, she allowed her hands to linger as she washed. She kneaded his shoulders, enjoying the feel of his firm muscles. Ran her hand down the sleek curve of his lower spine and dared to cup one of his buttocks with her fingers.

He made a low sound and spread his thighs so she could glimpse his testicles hanging heavy between them.

Edeva removed her hand and stood back, wondering if she would swoon from the exquisite tension humming through her. Her insides felt liquid, her skin hot and tight. There was a piercing spasm at the center of her lower belly, and little points of sensation swirled outward from it. She wanted, oh, what she wanted...

“Edeva,” his voice was a husky murmur, “mayhaps you should finish.”

She rinsed the cloth and began to wash his buttocks. Her movements were slow, delicious, and thorough. After again dipping the cloth in the water, she gently soaped between his thighs. The thin cloth rasped against coarse hair, and Edeva let her fingers slip beneath the cloth, exploring the intriguing taut pouches, this essence of his virility.

She sensed Jobert held himself very still, as if he might explode if her fingers dallied too long. Then, with a groan, he turned sideways, balancing on his uninjured arm. “Do my front, Edeva,” he said.

A
s soon as he had turned over, her eyes went to his shaft. Ruddy pink against the blaze of his pubic hair, it stood up bold and proud, a beacon of his desire. But was it desire for her, or could any woman stir it?

“Touch me. Please.”

She reached out. His shaft also rose for Golde. Did his passion at this moment mean anything?

He groaned as her fingers hovered over him. “Edeva,” he whispered. “My lusty she-cat, please touch me.”

She rinsed out the cloth and washed his manhood. He was as hot as she remembered. And as hard.

She tried to be cold, disinterested. Not to fondle the velvety, arrow-like tip. Nor run her fingers lovingly down the smooth length of him. Or curl her fingers around the weight of the tight pouches hanging below.

But such willpower seemed beyond her. Though haunted by doubts, she could not help enjoying the moment. Skin against skin. Sensitive finger pads against keen flesh. She traced patterns along the heated column of his shaft, savoring the fit of him in her hand.

A droplet of moisture appeared at the quivering tip. Her instincts said to lick it. He was clean, smelling of soap, and her mouth had felt wet and yearning ever since they began this fascinating endeavor.

She leaned over and touched him with her tongue. He gave a gasp and clutched the bedcovers in a death grip. “Dear God, you’ll drive me to madness!”

The desperation in his voice frightened her. She drew back. “Your wound! We should not be doing this!”

“Jesu, woman! Do you mean to kill me? If you do not finish now, I’m like to expire of frustration anyway.”

Edeva gazed at him in amazement. “But how do we... that is... you cannot think to...”

“Do as you were doing. I will find release, of that I’m certain!”

She gaped.

“Never fear,” he whispered, “I will satisfy you as well. I would not leave you to suffer aching loins, not after the delight I’ve experienced at your hands.”

The warmth in his voice soothed her. If he did not love her, at least he cared for her feelings.

He sat halfway up on the bed, his green eyes dark with longing. “Take off your kirtle. I would see you naked.”

She did as he bid, feeling half hot with embarrassment, half with desire. Her nipples were swollen, pulsing peaks. Between her thighs, she was so wet, she feared to find moisture dribbling down her legs.

His eyes swept over her, eager and hungry. “Straddle me.”

Awkwardly, she climbed on the bed and did so. He leaned back, nostrils flared, lips parted. The pupils of his eyes were black pools. “Heaven forfend, but you’re spectacular.”

’Twas a heady thing, to display herself to this man. He did not make her feel too big, ungainly or unfeminine. His gaze upon her body was reverent.

“You have magnificent breasts,” he said “I would taste them... one delicious nipple at a time.”

As if he willed it, she leaned over, offering herself. He took the gift, his mouth rough upon her succulent flesh. He swallowed her, drawing her deep between his lips, until the ache inside her erupted in a throaty moan. ’Twas unbearable. She wanted more. Leaning back, she arched her pelvis to meet his skillful fingers.

He thrust one finger inside her and used the others to rub her cleft, finding some magical spot. She braced her body and closed her eyes. Shivers of delight threaded through her flesh; spirals of fire exploded inside her.

As the peak passed, Edeva slowly became aware again. She was draped over Jobert, her body slick with sweat and the moisture of her climax. She looked down at him, fearing to see disgust writ on his features.

His eyes were wild, his features flushed and distorted. “Now, Edeva, you must return the favor.” He took her hand and drew it down to his shaft.

He seemed as rigid as stone as she caressed him. “Faster,” he whispered. “Yeah, my love, that is wonderful!”

In seconds, creamy wetness covered her fingers. Edeva stared at it, thinking of his wasted seed. She would have liked to have felt it gushing inside her.

But she feared to hurt his shoulder. And there would be other times. Wouldn’t there?

She climbed off the bed and rinsed her hand in the wash water, then looked at him. His eyes were closed, his body relaxed. She could not help wondering if it mattered who brought him to release. Could any woman have satisfied him?

His eyes fluttered open. “Lie next to me,” he whispered. “I would have you near.”

She settled herself beside him. His lips brushed the side of her face. “Edeva,” he murmured. “My lovely Saxon.”

* * *

“A boy in the village, Leogyth, fell ill with a stomach ailment,” Edeva said, looking up from her sewing. “Helwenna could do naught for him, and he died a day ago. They will have a pyre to burn his body. ’Tis one of the old ways. The church does not sanction it, but our people have always burned their dead.”

She watched Jobert rock back on the stool. Although he had improved greatly in the last few days, he still spent most of his time in the bedchamber, resting. She brought him news, detailing the events occurring in manor and village.

“I have decided to have Helwenna train someone else as healer.” She smoothed the altar cloth she was embroidering. “She is old and will not last many more winters. I would hate for all her knowledge to be lost. I’ve decided on Eadelm. She is sturdy and quick-witted, and I think she might be good at it.”

“Which one is she?”

“She works in the kitchen. A big brawny girl with a broad face and brown hair.”

“Ah, the one none of my men wanted to bed.”

“’Tis a good thing, too. At least I have one kitchen helper who is not pregnant. Every day when I go to order the meal, I find myself assaulted by complaints and cries of misery. Half of them are ill in the-morning, the other half, too tired to do their duties.” Edeva’s voice rose with aggravation. “I vow, by next summer, your knights will have turned my kitchen into a nursery!”

“Certainly you’ve had young female servants get with child before.”

Edeva’s hands stilled on the cloth, remembering when her mother discovered that Beornwold and Godric had been dallying with the kitchen help. Two of them came up pregnant not a sennight before King Harold and his train came to Oxbury, and her mother had counted it a disaster. She’d had both of Edeva’s brothers whipped, and the women had been given as wives to two of Leowine’s villeins.

’Twas easy to find husbands for women carrying bastards of the lord’s line; most sokemen were not adverse to having a cuckoo in the nest if they thought the sacrifice could earn them rewards in the future. Edeva feared it would be much more difficult to find enthusiastic spouses for women who carried babes from Normans.

“Husbands will have to be found for them,” she said. “And I imagine you will have to pay dearly to get decent men to take on women sullied by your knights. Most of the women do not even know which of your men is the father.”

Jobert gave a grunt. “How much do you think it will take?”

“Mayhaps a cow or pig for each of them, plus increased grazing or fishing rights and other privileges.”

“That seems rather dear. If your female servants keep getting pregnant, I’ll be beggared in no time.”

“Then mayhaps you should have spoken to your knights sooner!” Edeva said tartly. “‘Tis their pleasure you pay for!”

Jobert shook his head. “I could not keep soldiers in my garrison if I grew too strict about their rutting. ’Tis the way of fighting men. Most of them will never marry. They must find their release somewhere. Is it not better now that they know they must make certain that the woman is willing?”

Edeva felt a flush creeping up her neck. This talk of “rutting” and “release” reminded her vividly of what had occurred between her and Jobert four days before. The memory of her wanton behavior still embarrassed her.

“Even if the women are willing, there is still the problem of what to do when they get with child. ’Twould be better if your men confined their lust to one or two wenches. Then we would only have those to worry over.”

“No man really likes to bed a wench who’s had dozens of bedpartners before him,” Jobert pointed out.

Edeva thought instantly of Golde. “The wench, Golde, is certainly well-used,” she said, “yet men do not seem to tire of her,”

“Oh, I do not think that’s true. By now most of the knights realize she only appears eager and willing when she wants something from them. If they go with her, ’tis because they have no better choice.”

Edeva felt a wave of satisfaction. From the sound of it, Golde had fallen from favor with Jobert. At last, he had seen her for what she was.

“I will agree to settle some property on the women,” Jobert said. “Which ones are they?”

“Asa, Aldreda and Emma.”

He grunted again. “They all look alike to me. Except Wulfget. She looks naught like anyone else.”

Which is why Fornay favors her, Edeva thought. Did Jobert also prefer delicate, fragile women?

Once more, she grew discouraged. Both Fornay and Golde had warned her that Jobert intended to wed a Norman. She could order his household for him for months, share his bed and still end up discarded when he took another woman to wife.

Anger at the thought made her voice sharp as she said, “And what of Wulfget? Do you intend to see that Fornay does the proper thing and weds with her?”

“That is up to him. I do not decide whom my captains will marry. And I certainly would not order him to marry a Saxon if he did not want to.”

His words stung, and Edeva feared they held portent for her as well as Wulfget. “But he came to her when she was injured and helpless,” she persisted. “If he abandons her now, ’twill break her heart!”

Jobert grew impatient. “If he has impregnated her, I will marry her off to some villein with the others. I am not responsible for every foolish, lovelorn maid at Oxbury!”

And what of this one? Edeva wanted to scream. What of this foolish, lovelorn maid?

“Tell me how the building progresses,” Jobert said, clearly wishing to change the subject. “Alan said that they had begun to deepen the ditch. I suggested they move it out several feet, so there is more room for the stone curtain wall.”

Edeva folded up her sewing and stood. “You can discuss your building plans with your captains. I have other things to attend to.”

What ailed her? Jobert mused as Edeva left the room, slamming the door behind her. She did not have to endure being bored and helpless, too weak to venture from the bedchamber!

With a curse, he rose from the stool. Although the wound healed well, the loss of blood had left him pathetically weak. Moving from the stool to the bed used up all his strength.

He took a few unsteady steps, then sank down on the bed, his legs trembling. The simple exertion made him thirsty, but the ewer of water lay on the table at the far side of the room. Too far away to make the effort worth it.

He would wait for Edeva to return. If she returned. She had been strangely distant since the day she bathed hint. His shaft grew hard at the memory. The sight of her straddling him, bringing her lush, rose-tipped breasts to his mouth. Her beautiful, golden crotch spread wide so that he might pleasure her. And pleasure her, he had. Fondling her creamy opening until her breasts heaved, her hips trembled and she thrust her head back in a glorious vision of ecstasy, thick golden braids streaming behind her, full, tempting lips parted, her blue eyes half-closed.

He could scarce look at her without remembering that moment and wanting her with a great throbbing hunger that his miserable, wounded body could not fulfill. His weakness disgusted him, and because of that, he had vowed not to cajole her into lovemaking until he could do it properly. He wanted to join with her, fill her with his seed, possess her. And he wanted to do it every night, every day... forever.

The intensity of his feelings shocked him. What he had felt for Damaris was a mere twinge compared to this. A nagging toothache to a bone-deep wound.

When would his answer come from William? He’d sent the letter asking for permission to wed Edeva nearly a month ago. The king should have received the missive by now and sent a message back.

Alan would be appalled when he found out his plans, Jobert thought as he leaned back on the bed. The knight would think his lord had lost his wits. But, in truth, was not wedding Edeva the perfect way to secure her loyalties? From what he knew of Edeva, she would never betray her husband, no matter what her other kinsmen might urge. Once she was his wife, she would be bound by law and honor to support him.

He wondered if she would resist the marriage. She was so proud, so headstrong. A woman like that might well fear the obligations of matrimony.

Of course, if she refused, he could coerce her. The law said a woman must wed willingly, but in truth, the bride’s agreement was meaningless. For the right payment, Father Reibald would sign the documents asserting that Edeva had agreed to the marriage, even if she was brought to the altar bound and gagged.

But it would not come to that, Jobert decided. He had other means of overcoming her objections. Give him a day alone with her in this bedchamber and he vowed he could love her into submission! A smile touched his lips at the thought.

Unfortunately, he would have to be healthy and vigorous for such action. A far cry from his current condition. His smile vanished as he closed his eyes and gave in to the nagging fatigue.

He woke to the smell of smoke. Not the familiar scent of woodsmoke and charcoal, but the acrid odor of war, a conflagration of thatch and wood and burning flesh. He knew a moment of alarm, and then he remembered the funeral pyre for the dead village child.

A primitive sort of rite, but it seemed that once the spirit had left the body, God should not care how the empty flesh was disposed of. Father Reibald was probably incensed by the custom, though. He would use the incident to point out the barbaric nature of the Saxons.

To Jobert, the English did not seem particularly crude, merely different. For all the warlike ways she exhibited in their first encounter, since then Edeva had acted much like other women. If anything, her feminine skills were superior to most females he had known. Her needlework finer, her command of servants and gift for organization more impressive.