By Arrangement Part 17

She laughed beautifully, lyrically, and then turned on her back, joyfully helping him push down the gown. When it was gone, she got to her knees and flew to him as if the separation had lasted an eternity. He lost himself then. In a frantic whirlwind of caresses and kisses, they managed to pull off his clothes. With cries and gasps and little ecstatic laughs, her hands met his on his belt and shirt and finally poured heatedly over his skin. He pushed her shift down from her shoulders, uncovering her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and bent her back so that he could revel in their sweet softness.

Her cries undid him and unraveled his last thread of control. He pushed the shift up her hips and felt for the moisture of her arousal.

"I promise that I will give you slow pleasure later," he said as he laid her down. "All night if you want. But right now I cannot wait, darling."

He spread her legs and knelt between them. She looked up at him, her dark eyes full of stars. He gazed at her lovely face and her round white b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The shift bunched at her waist and the hose were still gartered at her knees. He pushed the bottom of the shift up higher, exposing her hips and stomach. He touched the pulsing, swollen flesh between her thighs and watched the pleasure quake through her.

The fantasies of his desire pressed on him relentlessly. Despite her ignorance and his need, he could not resist them all. He bent her legs so that she was raised and open to him. Her ragged breathing broke through his fog, and he glanced and saw the flicker of wariness and surprise in her eyes.

"Do not be afraid," he said as he lifted her hips. "I want to kiss all of you. That is all."

He knew that he could not indulge himself thus for long. His own body would not let him. Nor, it turned out, would hers. She writhed and cried out from the shock and intensity of this new pleasure, and soon he felt the first flexes of her release.

He left her and came up over her, bringing her legs with him, settling them on his shoulders. She thrashed in frustration that he had brought her to the edge of the precipice but no further.

"Soon, darling. I promise. When we are together," he said soothingly, and he rose up and entered her with one thrust.

His whole body shook from the torturous pleasure of it, but the tremor itself gave him back some of his control. Extending his arms, he stroked into her, his consciousness filling with the exquisite sensation that came from tottering on the edge of his own release.

She watched him as he moved, her hands caressing his shoulders and chest in that open, accepting way of hers, her sparkling eyes and soft sighs telling him that he filled other needs besides those of her body. The emotions seeped out of her and around him and embraced them both as surely as their arms had entwined moments ago.

He felt her tensing, stretching, for her climax. His own control began crumbling. He reached down between their bodies to give her release. As the frenzy possessed her she grabbed fiercely for him, arching her hips up against his thrusts, pulling him with her into the delicious oblivion. He rarely sought a mutual release. In fact he avoided them. Now, as their pa.s.sion peaked and shattered together, he felt her ecstasy even as his own split through him. For an unearthly instant the lightning of the storm melted them into one sharing completeness.

When they were done, he stayed with her, kissing her softly while he moved her legs down, letting himself enjoy the glorious expression on her beautiful face. He rolled over to his back, bringing her with him so that she lay on him. He held her there, her head on his chest and her knees straddling his hips, and watched his hand caress her pale back and hips.

After a long while she lifted her head and c.o.c.ked it thoughtfully. "I hear lutes," she said.

"You flatter me."

She giggled and thumped his shoulder playfully. "Nay, David. I really do. Listen."

He focused his awareness and heard the lyrical tones amidst the distant noise of the party. He moved her off, got out of bed, and disappeared into the wardrobe.

Christiana waited, still floating in the wonder and magic of their pa.s.sion. It seemed that the lutes got louder.

He returned and pulled the coverlet off the bed. "They are for you. You should acknowledge them." He draped the warm cover over his shoulders, and she got up and joined him in its cozy coc.o.o.n. The door to the stairs leading to the ivy garden was open, and they went out on the stone landing. David lifted her up and sat her on the low surrounding wall, tucking the coverlet securely around her legs. Below in the tiny garden she could see four men with lutes. They sang the poetic lines of a love song. She recognized the deep ba.s.s of Walter Manny.

"Who are the others?" she whispered.

"They are all from the Pui. It is a tradition when one of them marries."

They began another song. Torches lit the larger garden, but here the singers were only dark forms in the shadows. Above them the clear night sky glittered with a hundred stars. David stood beside her, holding her under their cover, nuzzling her hair. There was something incredibly romantic about being with him in the cold night with the intimacy of their joining still hanging on them while the music played. Walter sang the next song alone. It possessed a slow, quiet melody that she had heard only once before. It was the song that David had sung that day in the hall, the one she had found so sad at the time. Now she realized that it wasn't sad at all, just soft and beautiful. It had sent her off thinking of Stephen that day, and she hadn't really noticed the words, but this time she listened carefully. It wasn't really a love song, but more a song that praised a woman and her beauty. The words spoke of elegant limbs and n.o.ble bearing. Her hair was described as black as the velvet night, her skin pale as moonlight, and her eyes like the diamonds of the starsa She grew very still. She listened to the rest of the lovely song that described her. David had written this. He had played it in the hall for her that day, and she hadn't even heard it. Walter's voice and lute closed the melody. She looked up at the shadow of the man beside her. Her heart glowed warm and proud that he had honored her in this way, so long ago, even as she treated him so badly.

"Thank you," she whispered, stretching up to kiss his face.

They listened to several more songs, and then the four musicians walked forward and bowed to her.

"Thank you, Walter," she called quietly.

"My lady," he replied, and the shadows swallowed him.

"What a marvelous tradition," she said to David as they returned to their bed. "Have you done that?"

"Aye, I've spent my share of cold winter nights in gardens singing to new brides. We stay until she acknowledges that she has heard us. On occasion the groom is so enraptured in bed that it takes hours. We give him h.e.l.l afterwards then."

She laughed and rested her head on his shoulder.

"It was a wonderful wedding, David." A din still leaked through the windows from the continued revelry outside and below. "I had so much fun. Anne says that I dance very well for an amateur. She said that she will teach me more if I want."

"If it pleases you, you should do it."

"I like her. I like Oliver, too. He is an old friend?"

"From when we were boys."

"Have they been married a long time?"

A peculiar expression pa.s.sed over his face. He looked so handsome now, his golden brown hair falling over his forehead, his deep blue eyes regarding her.

"Christiana, Oliver sells women. Anne lives with him but is not his wife. She is one of his women."

"You mean she is his wh.o.r.e? Anne is a wh.o.r.e? She does this with strangers, for pay? He lets her, and even brings the men to her?"

"Aye."

"How can he? He seemed to care for her, David. Howa"

"In truth, I do not know."

She pictured Anne, with her pretty brown curls and sweet but worldly face. "It must be horrible for her."

"I suspect that most of her isn't really there with them."

Could people do that? Join like this and not even care about it, not feel anything? Or just take the pleasure and close their eyes to the person giving it? It struck her as a sad and frightening thought. She turned her head and gazed up at the billowing canopy of blue cloth above them, feeling sorry for Anne and not much liking Oliver for expecting such things of her. They were poor, true, but surely there must be some other way.

And yet, she had to admit that this lovemaking obviously happened in all kinds of ways and for all kinds of reasons. In fact, she suspected that often love had nothing to do with it at all, especially for men. After all, the desire that she and David shared was mostly physical, wasn't it? For him, that was all that it was. And other women had been here, where she was now, experiencing the same thing. He had wanted them and now he wanted her. Whom would he want next?

The magic and wonder suddenly seemed a lot less special.

Did it last long, this desire? Perhaps if a man paid a thousand pounds for a woman, he felt obligated to desire her for a long time. But when the desire faded, what would be left for her? A home and maybe children. Not small things, but she wanted more.

The admission startled her and she didn't understand the feelings that it revealed. She realized, however, that there could be danger in this bed with this man, and the chance of disappointments far worse than she had known with Stephen Percy.

A strange emptiness opened inside her. It felt like a desolate loneliness, despite the man who held her. She had been having a wonderful time these last hours, laughing and dancing and being overwhelmed by their mutual pa.s.sion. Nestling with him outside while the love songs played had been so romantic. She bleakly realized that she had been foolishly building another illusion, another dream. She felt him shift and then those blue eyes were above her, studying her.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Don't you know? she wanted to say. You always know.

She met his gaze and realized that he did know. At least part of it.

"I am thinking that there is more to all of this than I understand." She made a little gesture that covered the bed. "You must find me very childish and ignorant compared to the other women whom you have known."

Beautiful women. Worldly women. Experienced women. She could never compete with them. She didn't even know how. Why in G.o.d's name had he married her?

His hand caressed her cheek and turned her face to his. "I am most pleased with you, Christiana."

She felt a little better then, but not much.

"Alicia was your lover, wasn't she?" she blurted.

"Aye. But it is over."

"There were others, too, others whom I know and who know me," she said blankly. He just looked at her.

"Elizabeth?" she asked, thinking of that exquisitely lovely woman and feeling a spike of infuriating jealousy. No one could ever compete with Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth is an old friend, but we were never lovers."

Protective indignation instantly replaced the jealousy. "Why not! You are better than most of the men she has been linked with. And that lord she married is old and ugly."

He laughed. "Now you are angry with her because we didn't sleep together? Nay, there was no insult in it. Elizabeth likes her lovers very young."

"You are young."

"Not young enough. She likes them still partly unformed. She wants to influence them."

"Young like Morvan?"

"Aye."

She thought about that, and those months when Morvan had attended on Elizabeth. A long time for him. Worrying about her brother relieved her of the worries about herself.

"Do you know about the two of them, and what happened? Some at court thought that they would marry, but then it just ended. Morvan would never speak to me about it."

He looked down at the pillow for a moment and she could tell that he did know.

"Oh, please, David, tell me," she cajoled. "He is my brother, after all. I am very discreet, you know. I am the only female at court who didn't gossip."

"A rare virtue that I should not corrupt."

"I always listened. I just never repeated what I heard," she said.

"Elizabeth didn't marry your brother because he never asked her to. Also, she loved him and he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted. Elizabeth would never bind herself to such an uneven love. Then there is the fact that she is barren. She has known it since girlhood. It is why only old men offer for her. They already have their heirs. One day your brother will be lord of Harclow again and he will want a son."

"Nay, David, I do not think he ever will be. The King swore to see it happen, but he has forgotten."

"Men do not forget the oaths that they swear."

She wondered what else David knew about the people with whom she had spent her life. Perhaps, if she proved very discreet, he would tell her sometime. This felt very pleasant and cozy, talking like this in the warmth of the bed. When he was up and walking about, he still remained a mystery to her, but the intimacy here temporarily banished that.

"I was surprised that the King came here this evening," she said, wondering how far she could push the mood.

"Even kings like to have some fun. Being regal can get tedious, and Edward is still a young man. He isn't much older than I am."

"He seems to know you well."

"We are of similar age, and he is more comfortable with me than with the city officials who are very formal with him. And I have done some favors for him. He sends me on errands. To Flanders mostly. I carried letters to the governor of Ghent on several trips."

"Do you still do this? These errands?"

"Aye. Some of the trips that I take are for Edward."

That was that. She smiled at her foolish hesitation. She should have just asked earlier. It all made perfect and innocent sense. Stilla "Are they ever dangerous? These trips?"

"They haven't been."

That wasn't the same as saying that they weren't. She decided to leave it, however. She snuggled closer, enjoying the feel of his arm around her. She thought about some of the people she had met at the Guildhall banquet. In particular, she remembered the thin-lipped, gray-haired Gilbert de Abyndon, who had tried to ignore David's presence even while David introduced her.

"I liked Margaret, Gilbert's wife. I think that she and I could be friends. Do you think that he would permit that?"

Actually, she wanted to know if David would permit it. Margaret was not much older than herself, and a friendly blond-haired woman. They had enjoyed their brief meeting and chat, even if their two husbands had stood there like frozen sentinels.

"Most likely. Gilbert is very ambitious. He will overlook your marriage to me because of your n.o.bility and connections at court. Like most of the wealthier merchants, he wants to lift his family into the gentry."

"Still, he may object to her visiting me. It is clear that you and he hate each other very much."

Her comment was met with a long silence. She turned and found him gazing at the blue canopy much as she had done earlier. He glanced at her with a glint in his eyes. Had simply mentioning this uncle angered him? He kissed her hair as if to rea.s.sure her.

"I hate him for what he did to my mother, and he hates me because I am alive and use the Abyndon name. He is the worst of our breed, my girl. Judgmental and unbending. He is full of self-righteousness and attends church each morning before he spends his day d.a.m.ning people. If he had been at this house today, he would have seen nothing of the joy and pleasure but only sin and weakness. If you are going to befriend Margaret, you should know this, because that is the man she is tied to. Hopefully, for her sake, her old husband will die soon."

She blinked at his last words. Wishing someone dead was a dreadful thing. The dispa.s.sionate way he said it stunned her even more.

"We need to find a servant to help you with your clothes and such," he added. "Geva said that you would want to choose the girl yourself. In a few days, go and visit Margaret and ask for her help in this. See if Gilbert permits it."

He stroked her hair and her shoulder and she stretched against him as the tingling warmth of his caress awoke her skin. She suspected that he wanted to make love again. She waited for him to start, and was surprised when he began speaking, his quiet voice flowing into her ear.

"My uncles Gilbert and Stephen were already in their twenties when my mother was still a girl. Old enough, when she turned fourteen, to know what they had in her. She was beautiful. Perfect. Even when she died, despite everything, she was still beautiful. Her brothers saw her marriage for the opportunity it was. They had it all planned. A n.o.bleman for her. Second choice, a merchant with the Hanseatic League. Third, a husband from the gentry. They settled a fat dowry on her and began pushing her in front of such men. Every banquet, they brought her with them, dressed like a lady."

"And did it work?"

"Aye, it worked. John Constantyn has told me what she did not. The offers poured in. Gilbert and Stephen debated the marriage that would be best for them, of course, and not her. They became too clever and played one man off against the other."

"Did she refuse their choice? Is that whya"

"Worse than that, as my body beside you proves. They had not been careful enough with her. Their parents were dead, and the servants who supervised her indulged her. She fell in love. The man was gone by the time she found herself with child."

"Was it one of her suitors?"