The Rose Of Lorraine Part 37

altar wine," he p.r.o.nounced and pa.s.sed the bottle to Bella.

A little more fastidious than he, she took the time to wipe the dust off the bottle with a damp corner of

her sleeve before putting it to her lips. It was surprisingly sweet and mingled very nicely with the after-taste of Sir John. As for Guilamu's undercooked rabbit, Bella ate sparingly of that. Chandos didn't seem to notice as he devoured what she did not want.

Bella looked around and realized they had no tent. "Where do we sleep?" she asked Sir John. His eyes met hers rather steadily while he gnawed on the knuckle end of a bone. "Here." He indicated the clearing around the fire where several of the men already had stretched out and begun snoring.

"Here?" Bella's head turned from side to side, examining the canopy of trees, listening to the chirping of nocturnal animals and insects. "You're kidding?" "A kid is a young goat, Bella. Speak the king's English." "I mean you're joking...playing a trick on me. Where's the tent?" "Back at Crecy in the baggage train." "What do we do if it rains?" "Get wet," he lifted one shoulder easily. "Cool," Bella said. "It could be. It could also be cold. At this time of year it is more likely to remain exceedingly warm for the duration of the night." As he mentioned the heat, Bella lifted her open collar of her cotte hardie and fanned her throat. The swim had been nice, the lovemaking even better, but he really didn't have to remind her about the heat or the humidity. Stuck in wool and leather clothing, it wasn't likely she'd forget how warm it was. "Can't we go on and ride to Calais now?" she suggested. "It's very unlikely that I'll get a wink of sleep here." "Why's that?" John tossed the last bone into the fire and wiped the grease from his fingers on the gra.s.s.

"Too spooky in the woods." Bella shivered. "I'll be listening to owls hooting and waiting for a bug to crawl up my leg."

His eyes rested steadily on her, a secret sort of smile lingering at one corner of his mouth. "Like the way you listened to the owls hoot and the bugs crawl all night long last night, eh?"

"I was sleeping in a tent, last night," Bella reminded him primly, fluttering her collar to cool her throat. His eyes strayed lower, considering the swelling fullness of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"I doubt you'll notice the difference once I let you go to sleep."

"Let me?" Bella's brow peaked. "You've got another think coming."

"Aye, that too," he smiled broadly and turned his gaze deliberately away from Bella's blushing face. He handed her the dregs of the wine and got up, moving to his saddle bags and unpacking his bedroll. Bella watched him shake out the roll of wool and lay it lengthwise at the base of a fairly distant tree. She hadn't got a bedroll of her own to unpack.

Robin and Guilamu's game had wound down to the last roll of the die. Guilamu stood abruptly and stretched then went to his saddle and removed his bedroll. Geoffrey had long since curled up in his blanket and dropped off to sleep on the far side of the fire, between the two soldiers who would take the second watch.

Bella finished off the wine then stood up and decided this was as good a time as any to make the last trip to the bushes. She rubbed her back gingerly on the way, knowing she'd be very glad to sleep in a good bed tomorrow night. Eustace Saint Pierre's luxurious house in Calais seemed the answer to all her prayers after this gruelling trip.

On her return she found everyone bedded down except her. Chandos offered her the sharing of his blanket. As a promising place to bed herself his wool blanket lacked even the amenities of his blasted cot. Bella sat on the gra.s.s near Chandos and patted the ground for rocks. She removed each one and tossed it away.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Bella brought her hair over her shoulder, splitting it into three sections and deftly weaved a braid. "Getting ready for bed."

"Come to me, Bella!" he commanded.

Bella ignored the shiver his words caused her, waved a hand to the various bodies curled under blankets and whispered, "Shush, everyone's to sleep."

"I said," he raised his voice louder on purpose, "Come to me, Bella."

"Sh!" she answered. "The boys, the men, you'll wake them."

"Very well," he tossed the wool off his bare legs and started to get to his feet.

Shocked by his revealing nudity, Bella scrambled over to him, pressing her fingers against his mouth to quiet him.

He sat in the fold of wool, delighted by her easy capitulation and began the determined work it would take to remove her clothing once again.

He caught her chin, lifting it and sealed her mouth with his, savoring the heady flavor of the wine on her tongue. She woozy with drink and stubborn too, furiously b.u.t.toning b.u.t.tons he opened, twisting like an eel to evade the purposeful search of his hands. John caught her head between his hands and whispered in her ear, "Bella, you can't sleep in clothes."

"Yes, I can," she answered.

"Nay, my love. You won't." He lifted her chin, staring into her eyes, seeing the surprise awakening there as she processed his words.

"Did you just call me, your love?" Bella whispered.

"Aye, so I did," John affirmed. He kissed her mouth languidly, sliding his tongue deep inside, duelling with her, dominating her, laying her back on the damp gra.s.s. She made no further protest as he easily parted her cotte hardie, exposing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to the moonlight. Her tongue toyed with his then slide inside his mouth to be teased and suckled.

The ties on her trews gave to the tug of his hand. He pressed the b.u.t.tery soft leather down her hips. Her body quietly told him that she wanted to give in to him, but her sense of propriety wouldn't allow her to make love in so public a setting--even if their sons and the soldiers were all asleep.

"Ach, Bella, 'tis no shame between us. Do you forget I'm a newly wedded husband?"

"But there's no privacy," Bella wailed, so softly though she wasn't positive even he heard her protest.

John lifted his head then and cast a look over his shoulder at the humps here and there on the ground. He knew his men and his sons. They would sleep through the end of the world tonight...as she had slept the night before. He rolled her over him, settling her backside on the wool and shifted to cover her from any view with his own long body. He stripped the heavy cotte hardie off her arms and cast it to the pile of clothing beyond her head. Moonlight shifted into shimmering shadows through the trees glazed her body. He laid his hand on the gleaming whiteness of her belly.

"You're the most beautiful woman in the world, Bella," he admitted in a throaty whisper. "I love you, Bella. Let me make the most of the moments we are given. Deny me not your sweetness, I beg you."

The dying fire outlined his head and the firm ridge of his upraised shoulder. Bella turned her face away, looking at the nearby woods and shuddered. "You're sentry could be watching."

"My sentry is the other direction, Bella." To placate her modesty he drew the edge of the blanket over his shoulder, forming a make-shift tent of sorts.

He had not lied to her earlier, when he promised to plow her belly. His c.o.c.k was again rock hard, painfully so. He slid his fingers through her moist curls.

"You do not really want me to stop. Part your legs, sweetling, aye, that's better now, isn't it?" He dipped his head to her breast and licked the protruding n.o.b of her nipple. With his arm enclosing her, he found the other thrusting nipple and compressed it between his fingers. Her resistance melted against his triple a.s.sault.

He pulled upon her breast, drawing her deep in his mouth, tugging the hardened nipple with firm steady strokes. Her hips bucked against his hand, belly rising, legs straining open wider and wider as her sweet cleft became creamy and slick, wet for him.

"That's it, my sweet," he encouraged. "Come to me."

He pressed her nub rhythmically and slid fingers inside her, lifted his mouth and whispered in her ear. "Ach, Bella, feel how wet you are for me. Tell me you want me as badly as I want you, sweetling."

"I want you," she gasped.

Chandos chuckled deeply as he moved over her, bringing the shelter of his crude tent on his back. "And so, my lady, you shall have me. Each night and each day for the rest of our lives, I promise you."

"Happiness is no laughing matter."

RICHARD WHATLEY.

-34.

"How long is she going to sleep?" Geoffrey whispered persistently.

Guilamu looked from the fish he was deftly filleting to study the woman enshrouded in the scarlet wool. Her hair spilled across the green gra.s.s and a dappling of midday sun filtered down through the trees to illuminate the gold in her tresses. "Not long if you continue to jabber."

Geoffrey scowled over Guilamu's answer. It was very hard to remain quiet this late in the day. If Robin would have let him go hunting with him it wouldn't have been a problem. But Geoffrey's only outlet for his vast energies had been to catch the fish.

"Do you want another fish?" he asked with a tired sigh.

Guilamu's turban moved placidly up and down. "Another fish would be good. White women have a taste for fish."

Geoffrey sighed, got to his feet and shuffled back to the stream. He was good at catching fish. Sir James had taught him how to tickle trout, and praised him for having the patience to do so. There weren't many who could master the trick of it, or so Sir James had told him. Soon enough another fat trout nosed around his quiet fingers and quick as he could blink his eyes, Geoffrey s.n.a.t.c.hed the unsuspecting fish out of the water.

"Ha!" he shouted in triumph, bounding onto the rocks to catch the flopping fish. "I did it again."

"What did you do again?" Bella asked over a soul deep yawn. She blinked bleary eyes at Geoffrey and part of the wool blanket dropped from her shoulder. "Maman! You're awake!" Geoffrey's mood brightened even further. "I caught another fish, barehanded, he announced proudly, holding the good sized trout up for her inspection. "Wonderful," Bella told him around another deep yawn. "Where is everybody?" "Oh, they're around," Geoffrey said purposefully. "I've got to give Guilamu this fish. He's going to cook it. Are you hungry?" "Famished," Bella admitted. "Good." Geoffrey hopped over the rocks and skipped onto the gra.s.sy bank. "Be back in a minute." "Take your time," Bella advised. "I'm going to wash up." "Oh, aye." Geoffrey remembered his manners and the fact that ladies took ever so long to ready for anything. "I'll tell Guilamu to cook the fish." "Geoffrey." Bella turned to watch him. "It would be very nice if you'd bring me my clothes." "Your clothes? Uh, I can't."

"Why can't you? They should be right there by the tree where I was sleeping." "No, they're not. Monseigneur took them." "I beg your pardon?" That shook the last of Bella's sleepy haze from her head. "What do you mean your papa took them?"

"Ah, he said you can't go riding about looking like a boy any longer. So he took your clothes. But, don't worry, he'll be back tomorrow morning." "Tomorrow?" Bella gasped. She also became aware of the dappled sunlight shining on her. The heat of it made her look up at the sky and there was the sun straight over her head. "What time is it?" "Noon." Geoffrey edged further back in the trees. "I can bring you your boots," he offered in a placating voice. "Noon!" Bella said. "Noon! Where has your father gone that he won't be back until tomorrow morning?" Geoffrey wasn't sure he should answer that question. He looked anxiously around for Robin and wished his older brother was there to fend off his mother's questions. "Geoffrey!" Bella said in her sternest, I'm-not-a-happy -mother voice. "Uh, I don't know." He gulped and backed farther into the trees. "Best you ask Robin."

As the boy turned tail and ran, Bella howled into the trees, "What is going on here!"

What was going on she had the dubious pleasure of learning some time later over a brace of tasty fish filets. Her adoring husband sans his sons and his body servant, had gone with his men to scout Calais.

Wrapped in a scratchy wool toga that smelled to high heaven of Chandos' heady lovemaking, Bella fumed over the meal. Robin arrived before the fish were all consumed, proudly bearing the dressed carca.s.s of a yearling. Once he hung the venison he tossed a gunny sack at Guilamu.

"Shallots and mushrooms," he announced the contents with a grin. "Good day, Mother. You slept well, I see."

"Oh, do you, you supercilious whelp?" Bella said. "Where have you hidden your saddle bags? I want something decent to wear."

Robin's brow arched in perfect imitation of his father.

"My pardon, Maman. We travel light. I have only the clothes on my back, as do we all."

"So help me G.o.d, Robin Chandos, if you don't wipe that smirk off your face I'll...I'll...cram this fish down your throat, bones and all."

His teasing, young and truly innocent eyes widened in genuine surprise. "By all that is holy, Maman, is that the best threat you can muster? You've lost your touch, you have. I vow, you are not the same terror you used to be. Is she, Geoffrey?"

"Aargh!" Bella groaned in frustration. She tossed a bony fish spine at the fire, yanked her blanket over her head and stalked back to the pool. She soaked in the water until her skin literally pickled, then sulked the late afternoon and evening away watching Guilamu turn venison steaks into mouth watering delicacies.

Stuffed and sated with food for the first time in days, she curled up in her blanket and listened to her sons and Guilamu exchange scary stories around the crackling fire. Every sound in the forest seemed intensified and Bella wouldn't have been surprised to hear wolves howl or have a wild bear come crashing through the woods on a rampage.

Geoffrey spread his blanket out and said he'd sleep beside her and protect her all night then dropped right off to sleep. Bella tousled his head, loving him more than it seemed possible. Robin produced another bottle of wine, offering it wordlessly to Bella.

"Where did you find room to pack all of that?" Bella asked half-suspiciously.

"Oh, there's another where this came from." Robin grinned boyishly. He tossed his head as he pulled the cork, flipping his black hair out of his eyes. His jaw had taken on a shadowed look again, another testimony of maturity.

Bella propped her elbow on the fallen log at her back and rested her chin on her hand, studying him, comparing him to Chandos and to what her vision of an older Iain would be. She had never been able to see any Saint Pierre traits in Robin before, but as he filled two cups with wine, she saw that his mouth was fuller than John's, softer. The shape of his jaw was a tad different, not so squared and determined.

He handed her a cup and took the other in hand, raising it in a salute. "What shall we toast, Maman?"

"Hmm?" Bella wondered. "To life, all its mysteries and wonders."

"Ah, an excellent thought--to health as well."

"Yes, that too." Bella tapped her cup to his and took a sip. "The brothers at Montreuil make very good

wine. I hope Edward has sense enough not to burn their vines."

"I'll drink to that, but I would not wager on it, were I you." Robin kicked off his boots and stretched his legs out toward the fire. He wiggled pale toes and sighed, content.

Bella also sipped her wine, oddly content. "Did you mean what you said earlier, Robin? About my not

being the same terror I used to be?"

"Odd that you should ask that." Robin shifted his shoulders which looked to Bella as if they gained more width by the day. "Everyone has remarked upon it."

"Everyone? Who is everyone?"

"Oh, why, Prince Edward, James Graham and Guilamu, too. Geoffrey doesn't know what to make of

you."

Bella wasn't certain, but she thought she saw a slight blush heighten the color on his cheeks. It might have been the wine, though.

Robin cleared his throat, then added. "I will admit I am glad you treat Geoffrey more kindly...as he

deserves."

Bella extended her hand, gently stroking the soft curls crowning Geoffrey's head. "He tries very hard to

please. A mother couldn't ask for more from any son."

"He's a pest," Robin said fondly.

"As are all younger brothers." Bella fingered a curl on the sleeping boy's head then let it fall back into

place. "He's grown so much since July. I think he's going to be taller than Sir John."