and heart-stoppingly desirable, and
his cousin and friend Crispin, also naked, locked together in a
passionate embrace behind those damnable blue bed-curtains. The
imagined scene aroused him to an even more painful state, his own
desire for Joanna rapidly becoming an unbearable ache that tortured
not only his spirit but his youthful, ardent body as well.
“Why?” he groaned. “Oh, God, Joanna, why
couldn’t it have been me?”
“You know why. Crispin holds the bordering
barony.” Piers sat down beside him. “Here. I brought another jug of
wine. It’s the only thing that will help you tonight. Tomorrow
we’ll have to think of something else.”
“You’re a good fren’. The bes’ fren’ of all,”
Alain declared with drunken solemnity. Taking the offered jug, he
upended it, pouring wine down his throat.
“You’re going to be sick in the morning,”
Piers observed.
“I’m sick now. An’ I’ll never be cured. You
know that, ol’ Sir Piers? Never cured. Never. Love her till I
die.”
“ Never is
a long, long time,” said Piers, catching the jug just as Alain
dropped it and rolled over in the straw. He had brought Alain’s
cloak along, as well as the wine, and now he covered the sleeping
man, pausing with one hand on Alain’s shoulder. Out of
sympat hy with his cou sin’s pain, Piers took a few swigs from the jug himself
before he rolled up in his own cloak and lay down to
sleep.
* * * * *
Within the blue dimness of the marriage bed,
the new-made bride and groom lay stiffly, not touching each other.
In all her short life Joanna had never been so embarrassed or so
frightened.
“You did say that Lady Rohaise told you what
I will do?” Crispin’s voice beside her startled her.
“Yes.” Joanna’s own voice was just above a
whisper. “I will not fight you, my lord. Do what you must.”
“I’d have you find it pleasant, too, Joanna.”
He moved beside her, his hand brushing across her breast. She
jerked in surprise at the contact of bare flesh with bare flesh,
and Crispin took his hand away.
“It would be better if I could see you,” he
said.
“I am glad you cannot,” she replied. “I’d be
ashamed to have you look at me again without clothing.”
“There’s no need for shame with your
husband,” he told her. “You have a lovely body.”
He put his hand on her breast again, and this
time she stayed still, letting him stroke her skin. Gently he
teased at her nipple. She caught her breath, parting her lips just
as his mouth found hers and pressed softly. It was not at all like
being kissed by Alain. There was none of the lightning-bolt fire of
Alain in Crispin. Thinking to warm his excessive gentleness and at
the same time to please him, she touched the tip of her tongue to
his lips. Immediately he pulled away, and she could sense his
displeasure.
“Where did you learn to do such a thing?” he
demanded. “Only whores do that.”
“I didn’t know,” she stammered. “I heard the
servingwomen talking. I thought you would enjoy it.”
“Joanna, you will please me best by behaving
like the innocent maiden you are now, and after this night by
always acting like a proper wife. There are certain things that
good women do not do.”
“I did not know.” It crossed her mind that
Alain thought she was a good woman and still had kissed her in that
way. Alain had said he loved her, which Crispin had not done.
“Of course you did not know,” Crispin said
tenderly, bestowing another gentle kiss on her lips. “In your
innocence you allowed yourself to be led astray by the gabbling of
foolish servingwomen. You must not do it again; it is not becoming
to the wife of a baron. I will teach you everything you need to
know in these bedroom matters.”
“ Yes, my
lord.” With firm resolution she banished eve ry thought of
Alain and made herself concentrate on Crispin.
She soon
found there was nothing to fear in him. He was by nature a gentle
man, perhaps better suited for a
his cousin and friend Crispin, also naked, locked together in a
passionate embrace behind those damnable blue bed-curtains. The
imagined scene aroused him to an even more painful state, his own
desire for Joanna rapidly becoming an unbearable ache that tortured
not only his spirit but his youthful, ardent body as well.
“Why?” he groaned. “Oh, God, Joanna, why
couldn’t it have been me?”
“You know why. Crispin holds the bordering
barony.” Piers sat down beside him. “Here. I brought another jug of
wine. It’s the only thing that will help you tonight. Tomorrow
we’ll have to think of something else.”
“You’re a good fren’. The bes’ fren’ of all,”
Alain declared with drunken solemnity. Taking the offered jug, he
upended it, pouring wine down his throat.
“You’re going to be sick in the morning,”
Piers observed.
“I’m sick now. An’ I’ll never be cured. You
know that, ol’ Sir Piers? Never cured. Never. Love her till I
die.”
“ Never is
a long, long time,” said Piers, catching the jug just as Alain
dropped it and rolled over in the straw. He had brought Alain’s
cloak along, as well as the wine, and now he covered the sleeping
man, pausing with one hand on Alain’s shoulder. Out of
sympat hy with his cou sin’s pain, Piers took a few swigs from the jug himself
before he rolled up in his own cloak and lay down to
sleep.
* * * * *
Within the blue dimness of the marriage bed,
the new-made bride and groom lay stiffly, not touching each other.
In all her short life Joanna had never been so embarrassed or so
frightened.
“You did say that Lady Rohaise told you what
I will do?” Crispin’s voice beside her startled her.
“Yes.” Joanna’s own voice was just above a
whisper. “I will not fight you, my lord. Do what you must.”
“I’d have you find it pleasant, too, Joanna.”
He moved beside her, his hand brushing across her breast. She
jerked in surprise at the contact of bare flesh with bare flesh,
and Crispin took his hand away.
“It would be better if I could see you,” he
said.
“I am glad you cannot,” she replied. “I’d be
ashamed to have you look at me again without clothing.”
“There’s no need for shame with your
husband,” he told her. “You have a lovely body.”
He put his hand on her breast again, and this
time she stayed still, letting him stroke her skin. Gently he
teased at her nipple. She caught her breath, parting her lips just
as his mouth found hers and pressed softly. It was not at all like
being kissed by Alain. There was none of the lightning-bolt fire of
Alain in Crispin. Thinking to warm his excessive gentleness and at
the same time to please him, she touched the tip of her tongue to
his lips. Immediately he pulled away, and she could sense his
displeasure.
“Where did you learn to do such a thing?” he
demanded. “Only whores do that.”
“I didn’t know,” she stammered. “I heard the
servingwomen talking. I thought you would enjoy it.”
“Joanna, you will please me best by behaving
like the innocent maiden you are now, and after this night by
always acting like a proper wife. There are certain things that
good women do not do.”
“I did not know.” It crossed her mind that
Alain thought she was a good woman and still had kissed her in that
way. Alain had said he loved her, which Crispin had not done.
“Of course you did not know,” Crispin said
tenderly, bestowing another gentle kiss on her lips. “In your
innocence you allowed yourself to be led astray by the gabbling of
foolish servingwomen. You must not do it again; it is not becoming
to the wife of a baron. I will teach you everything you need to
know in these bedroom matters.”
“ Yes, my
lord.” With firm resolution she banished eve ry thought of
Alain and made herself concentrate on Crispin.
She soon
found there was nothing to fear in him. He was by nature a gentle
man, perhaps better suited for a
Similar Books
