Wedding (16 page)

Eventually, inevitably, like coming down from
a high, anxiety began to seep into my brain. Dominic danced once or
twice more with me, but didn’t hover or seem especially eager for
my company. I could hardly blame him after my coldness, but it put
the lie to his earlier ardor.
And it was Midsummer
. If I did
not encourage him, there were plenty that would, and he was not the
sort of man to spend festival night alone with his regrets.
What
had I done?

A
s the afternoon darkened
slowly into evening the music changed just as subtly, offering
progressively fewer reels and circles, until it was all couples
dances. At some predetermined point, those too young for the later
phase of the festival were sent upstairs to bed. The elderly and
unwell, and others not up to the night’s revelry had been leaving
on their own, some gratefully, some wistfully. The tempo and volume
of the music picked up; people whooped and clapped as they danced,
stomping and gyrating in provocative poses.

A man cleared his throat above me and I
looked up. “My lady,” Ranulf said in his gruff voice, “would you do
me the honor—”

I was so taken by surprise that I accepted.
This was an athletic dance for mixed couples, the man lifting the
woman high in the air with both hands around her waist every few
steps. Skirts rose and fell, legs were revealed up to the thigh and
beyond. Ranulf handled me expertly, aware of my inexperience and my
pregnancy, but confident in his strength. If I had known what kind
of dance this was I would have declined. But I was caught up in it
despite myself, the feel of his hard, callused hands on me, the air
under my skirts, my bare legs showing, all arousing me as
intended.

Near the end, as Ranulf held me aloft, he
ducked his head under my ballooning skirts, his breath blowing
between my naked thighs. From my momentary vantage point above the
crowd, I saw Dominic standing on the sidelines, incapable of
performing this dance. He gave me a wink, raising his glass in
ironic congratulations. I almost ran from the dance floor in panic
but for Ranulf’s firm hand that set me down on my feet and spun me
around for the final steps. The music ended and he bowed. His face
near mine, he whispered, “I would ask you for later, my lady, but
it’s my lord’s night tonight, and he’s earned it.”

My heart pounded as if to burst out of my
chest and I stumbled toward the side of the room, searching for a
seat. Everywhere I looked was a tableau of sexual posturing—men
with shirts open at the neck, hips thrust forward, women lifting
skirts above the knees to show off intricate footwork, breasts
revealed in low-cut dresses, hair coming loose, whipping around
faces and necks in the movement of the dance. Another hand touched
my waist and I shrieked.

“Mistress! What’s wrong?” It was Stefan.

I sighed with relief. “Nothing,” I said. “I’m
just not accustomed to these festivals.”

“Me neither,” he said. “It’s my first
Midsummer as a man. Last year I was sent to bed with the
children.”

The group phase of the evening was reaching
its natural end. Stefan and I stood side by side, watching as the
formation of the room changed. The early dances had allowed us to
survey the field. Now, in these very different dances, some lively,
others deliberately slow, people were making their decisions for
the night.

Some choices had already been made. Clara
Galloway and Alaric, our falconer, had discovered an instant
affinity, as I had seen. With their cultivated manner and elegant
bearing, they seemed a natural pair, although she topped him by a
head. It was no surprise that they had left the hall earlier and
gone upstairs to find a free bedroom. Lucretia Ladakh was sitting
out this dance, leaning back in pleasure as Marcin, the tenant
farmer, kissed and wooed her. They, too, made an attractive couple,
she with her lush, wide body and beautiful gray eyes, he with a
farmer’s muscular solidity and a keen intelligence in his ruddy
face. Sir Nicholas had found a willing partner in Magali, and was
wallowing delightedly in her buxom embraces.

Dance with me
, Stefan thought to me.
Really dance with me
. He had not taken his hand from my
waist all this time, and the touch was excruciating, like a finger
just brushing the tip of the clitoris, or lips and tongue teasing a
nipple. He wasn’t actually thinking these acts, nor was I
intentionally responding; it was more the nature of our communion,
our connection with Dominic and the heightened sexual mood of the
evening. Dominic’s companion could not touch me innocently on this
night; there was too great a bond between us.

I understood Stefan’s thoughts. Once I was
’Gravina Aranyi, I would live cloistered, in purdah. In the
mountains women were kept less strictly than in the southern lands,
but no lord gave his wife such freedom as to risk compromising his
own honor. I would be forbidden from being alone with a man under
any circumstances. As Dominic’s companion, Stefan would be most
affected, living in the same house and having always to be careful.
As Dominic’s wife, I would presumably find my greatest temptation
in a beautiful young man who was always available. This was a last
chance for us to be together lawfully, assuming Stefan’s father
didn’t come storming over to separate us by force.

The music started up again, a slower tune
signaling that the dancing was soon to end. Stefan’s arm drew me
close before I could make up my mind. As if to forestall any second
thoughts, he wrapped both arms around me, holding me so tightly I
could barely breathe, my breasts mashed against his chest. He was
wearing only a light shirt for the dancing, and he wiggled a little
to enjoy the feeling of my nipples stiffening through the thin
material. Our one dance movement consisted of shuffling our feet
over a tiny area of the floor. We were a good match in height; I
could rest my head on his shoulder very comfortably. His erection
pushed against my belly, but it was somehow not urgent, not really
for me, and I accepted it without acknowledgement. His hands moved
lower, caressing my ass through the soft silk and velvet.

A hand fell on Stefan’s shoulder as the music
ended, a deep voice said, “That’s enough of that.” Dominic pulled
us apart, scooping Stefan into an embrace with his right hand. As
Stefan fell against him, Dominic was able to angle his left palm so
that he cupped the boy’s erection. Their bodies pressed close,
forming a tight seal around it. Another slow dance began
immediately, and Dominic held Stefan in it the entire time,
Stefan’s head lying on Dominic’s shoulder only because Dominic
stooped just enough to make it possible, something he had not done
for me.

I ran back to my chair at the high table and
sat down before anyone else could approach. My dress clung to me
too tightly, damp with sweat. In front of me couples swayed and
fondled each other, hands snaking under skirts and down necks,
unbuttoning breeches and reaching in, kneading and caressing and
stroking. Occasionally a couple would run off the floor, heading
for the stairs. Some of the women enjoyed pretending to be
unwilling, but none of them were; nobody was coerced into pairing
off. It all came through to my mind in my unshielded, open state.
The suppressed desires that had simmered for six months, and the
sudden passions that had been discovered only after dinner—all were
to be satisfied on this special night.

A tall woman, graceful and wild, led Josh
away outside. Naomi had claimed the seer this night, or he had
called to her, had seemed to pursue her for dancing. I had noticed
her during the feast, flitting from one table to the next, not
eating the entire meal in one place, but landing here for some
meat, there for some bread, yet a third place for wine and fruit.
She had been in the festival mood early, and from her first dance
with Josh she had known what she wanted, dancing with others for
form’s sake, but always with her eye on him, like a cat with a toy
it is too proud to play with but must guard to keep others from
stealing. She would not spend this beautiful, warm night indoors,
but with her chosen partner in tow headed for the soft ground
between the inner and outer walls.

Eleonora had seemed pleased with her
husband’s intention, but had left the hall by this time, carried
off by Ranulf, his grizzled head nuzzling her neck, his strong arms
lifting her slim body. They went upstairs; he would not subject
Lady Eleonora to the rough outdoors. Her soft laughter and cooing
sighs as Ranulf kissed the tops of her breasts had sent shivers of
lust down my spine from her strong gift, uncurbed on this
night.

I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was. I had
seen that married couples, while not absolutely forbidden to spend
the night together, were discouraged from it. This was a rare night
of freedom—why waste it on the person you can have all year?
But
what about betrothed couples?
What about Stefan?

Katrina ran laughing toward the stairs,
pursued by Berend and Myron Ladakh. Magali sat on Sir Nicholas’s
lap. As I watched, they took their hands out from inside each
other’s clothes just long enough to stand up, reinsert their hands,
and walk awkwardly in the same direction as the other couples. Sir
Karl Ormonde, severe and grave before, was almost unrecognizable,
laughing as he dragged a sturdy, curvaceous young woman named
Isobel toward the door. A local widow with two boys, she had been
recommended by Magali as a nursemaid when my child was born. Isobel
too was laughing, never missing the opportunity to return kiss for
kiss and touch for touch as she parried Sir Karl’s hands that
grabbed and squeezed. Luisa Ormonde, respectable as ever, walked
sedately to the stairs, arm in arm with Harald, Magali’s brawny
husband, permitting herself one openmouthed kiss along the way.

Those still dancing were entwined, barely
moving; the music was soft and low. Dominic and Stefan stood still
as a song ended, locked in a kiss that began gently, then
intensified into a long, bruising, swooning prelude to love. As one
last tune began they ended their kiss, smiled into each other’s
eyes and walked, Dominic’s good arm draped over Stefan’s shoulders,
Stefan’s arm encircling Dominic’s slim hips, to the door.

A few singles sat on the benches or stood
watching the dancing. Only the unhappy souls who had missed their
first choice and were unsatisfied with the dregs that remained
stayed in the hall in desperation. Like me. I had rejected my first
choice, my only choice; he was with his companion now, although he
had made it clear to me early on that I was his first choice
tonight.

There was no point in sitting here any
longer. As at La Sapienza, I would spend festival night alone. And
if I shocked Dominic a second time, it was just as well. He had
done worse to me, twisting my guts with sympathy for his terrible
wound, making me sick with worry over his pathetic condition, only
to act as if little was really wrong when he came home. And then to
learn he had brought it on himself!

Really, I decided, I was better off not
marrying such a crazy person. Tonight’s announcement, the glass
comb and the entire last two months notwithstanding, in the morning
I would put an end to my masquerade. I would have to make some
arrangement for the child, but once she was born, Lady Amalie would
disappear, and Amelia Herzog would return to Eclipsia City, to her
old job in the Terran Sector or whatever was available, thinking up
some excuse to offer to her employers for her long absence. A wave
of nausea overwhelmed me; I thought I was going to barf all over
the high table, sicker than if I had drunk as much as most of the
guests. I leaned on my chair and swallowed repeatedly. The worst of
it passed, and I walked unsteadily to the door.

I made my way through the congestion in the
entrance and started up the main staircase. As I reached the third
step someone behind me lifted my hair and the betrothal ornament,
and kissed the forbidden back of my neck. Even if my flesh hadn’t
turned to flaming jelly at his touch, I would know who this
was—Midsummer or not, I felt sure only Dominic was entitled to take
such a liberty with his betrothed. “Going to bed without me?” he
asked. His voice sounded strange, almost giddy.

“Why not?” I said. “It’s Midsummer. Surely
you don’t want to waste this night on me.” I tried to sound cold
and dignified, heard my voice shake, turning shrill.

“Beloved,” he said, “how can you—” He broke
off, seeing in my mind my cold fury and my hot passion for him as
intertwined as any of the coupling pairs in the rooms above.
Amalie
, he thought to me,
it was all I could think of,
every day I was away, that at Midsummer we would be
together
.

He was making love to me with his
crypta
, as we had had to do at La Sapienza, only now we were
close enough to touch. I nearly keeled over from the warring
sensations within me, anger and desire, love and fear. “What about
Stefan?” I asked.

“Stefan is very happily occupied,” Dominic
said, “with that overworked young steward of mine, demonstrating
how two cocks can be sucked simultaneously.” His hand massaged the
back of my neck, hot and sweaty under the hair.

“Berend left with Katrina,” I said. “My
maid.”

Dominic’s hand moved around to the front of
my neck and began a slow descent. “Your maid,” he said, “is of no
interest to me. But if it makes you happy, I can tell you she is at
this moment being well and thoroughly fucked by Myron Ladakh.”
Dominic’s fingers had worked their way in between my skin and the
lace that covered it, and my body leaped at his caress, pushing my
breast neatly into his palm. Dominic closed his hand, squeezing as
if testing for ripeness. “That poor boy’s been walking around with
a hard-on ever since his wife was in her eighth month,” he said of
young Lord Ladakh, shaking his head over Christian notions of
sexual fidelity. “About time he got a chance to sheathe that
sword.”