Mary Gillgannon (26 page)

Richard’s eyes flicked sideways, and he caught a glimpse of his enemy. Faucomberg’s face was flushed with amusement, his mouth stretched into a gloating grin. Richard resisted the urge to smash his fist into his tormentor’s mocking countenance. He would not sink so low as to attack his foe in such a cowardly fashion.

He turned. “If you wish to do battle, Faucomberg, say the word. The choice of weapons is yours.”

The red-haired man laughed, a shrill and effeminate sound. “Fight you, Reivers? I think not. I have better things to do with my time. In a few days I intend to announce my betrothal to a very wealthy young woman.” His smile widened. “It’s a shame you couldn’t have found an heiress yourself, Reivers. It’s obviously the only hope you ever had of being anything more than a common knight. I hear your wife is utterly penniless. Odd, I would never have taken you for such a dolt that you would marry for love.”

Richard’s vision faded, usurped by a red tide of hatred. When he could see again, Faucomberg was walking away. His unprotected back taunted Richard. It would be so easy to pull out his misericord and end the puling bastard’s life! His fingers twitched with the effort of holding back.

Faucomberg disappeared beyond the barracks. Richard took a deep breath and started for his destrier. He heard a sound behind him and remembered Nicholas and the other squires. Anger filled him anew. They had all heard Rathstowe taunt him. Even now they were likely laughing at him. It was obvious the whole court knew how Astra had tricked him.

Richard walked toward his horse and grabbed the fallen reins. He led the animal across the field, stopping at the broken quintain where pulled his dagger and viciously attacked the sack of sand weighting the device.

By the time he finished, the sack was torn to ribbons and sand poured from a dozen gaping holes. He stared at the ruined object a moment, his lip curling in satisfaction. It was pleasing to think of ramming his knife into Faucomberg’s pallid, sneering face.

Then his thoughts shifted, and he gave the sack a tentative poke. This time he envisioned Astra’s lush body, and the weapon became his own fleshly shaft. He frowned, remembering how his plan to punish Astra had gone awry. He had sought to be cold and brutal, to use her body without a thought for her pleasure. But it hadn’t worked. Her body’s incredible responsiveness had undone him.

And yet, her body had not been willing at first. He’d had to gentle her, to coax her body into accepting his. Of course, he could have forced her. Perhaps if he had, she would not have been so tender and sweet this morning. Then she would know what it was like to be trapped and cornered.

It was the perfect revenge, but he hadn’t been able to go through with it. He simply did not have the heart to make her suffer physical pain. Some stupid part of him still admired her, still hungered after her sweetness. It was ridiculous, and he was going to have to get over it somehow. He couldn’t let weakness interfere with his plan to punish her. Astra must pay the price for her treachery. He must make her realize that no one humiliated the Black Leopard.

He gave the sack one last thrust and turned and walked toward the palace.

* * *

Astra glanced nervously at the knights surrounding her at the banquet table. It had been Richard’s idea for her to sit with his “friends”. As soon as she reached the Great Hall for the evening meal, her husband had beckoned her to join the group of rather disreputable-looking soldiers. Richard had greeted her civilly enough. He kissed her cheek, introduced her as his “lady wife,” even helped her to sit beside him. But for all his courtesy, she had no hope he had undergone any change in his feelings. Although he smiled, his eyes were hard. There was a mocking edge to his voice when he addressed her.

The group of knights looked as ill at ease with her presence as she was with theirs. Their talk was subdued, and she sensed they resented having to curb their rough language for her sake. Richard appeared oblivious to the tension at the table. He talked animatedly and encouraged the other men to join in the conversation. Astra flushed as the talk turned to plans for later in the evening and the “stews” of Southwark, the most notorious district of brothels in the city.

“Remember the lady,” one man cautioned, with a nod toward Astra.

“Astra doesn’t care,” Richard assured them. “She’s a married woman now. She’s well acquainted with what goes on between a man and a woman.”

Astra ducked her head. She dreaded to think where this was leading.

“There must be quite a few women in London who will be disappointed to learn the Black Leopard has married,” one of the younger knights said with a guffaw. “What do we tell them, Reivers? Is there no hope you will join us tonight?”

“Not tonight,” Richard said nonchalantly. “For now I am content to keep to my wife’s bed. My intention is to teach her all the skills of a whore. Then I won’t have to go in search of my pleasure elsewhere.”

There was nervous laughter around the table. Astra put down the bite of coney she had been on the verge of eating. She had a glimpse into Richard’s intentions, and it made her feel ill.

“I know of one whore who will be furious that Richard Reivers is a faithfully wedded man,” someone suggested. “What of Ruby, Richard? Do you mean to give her up, too?”

“Ah, Ruby,” Richard answered, smiling gleefully. “She’s a fine piece. I once thought that she had the most beautiful body in Christendom. Now I know that that honor goes to my lovely wife.”

There were gasps of surprise, then muffled laughter. Astra fought the urge to crawl beneath the table.

“Aye,” Richard said loudly. “My wife is the perfect woman—obedient, passionate and a virtual Venus.”

“We envy you, Reivers,” one of the men said. “For all that the King forced you to wed Lady Astra, it seems you have gotten the best of the bargain.”

Astra held her breath, wondering if the reminder of her betrayal would throw her husband into a rage. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and unruffled. “You are correct, Roderick. I’ve decided to make the best of the situation. I did not want a wife, but now that I have one, I can see the advantages. Certainly Astra will require less coin than the famous Ruby. While many whores have special talents and techniques, you have to pay for them. My wife is already paid for, so it’s only a matter of training her to please me. And of course, she is very eager to learn.”

Astra had endured enough. She rose, intending to leave the table. Richard restrained her with an iron-like grip on her arm.

“My wife has only one fault,” he said with a cold smile as he held her arm. “She was raised in a convent, and she can be maddeningly shy and demure when it comes to matters of lovemaking. I intend to change that.”

Richard’s grip loosened, and Astra finally broke away. She struggled to free her skirts and finally darted for the door.

I
t was cold in the courtyard, and she had left her cloak behind. Astra shivered in her velvet gown as she hurried down the darkened stone walkway outside the palace. The chapel was lit with candles along the walls, and the familiar illumination comforted Astra. She knelt for a time before the altar, praying for strength and God’s help in turning Richard’s anger to love. When she rose she felt calmer, more able to deal with Richard and his mocking coldness.

Still, she was reluctant to go back to the main palace and risk facing him again. But then she thought of him drinking wine with his boisterous companions. They might entice him to join them for a night of whoring in the “stews”. The thought disturbed her. Even though it might be better if Richard vented his lust with a harlot, she did not like to think of her husband in the arms of another woman.

She was well and truly mad to care at all. Richard had taunted her and treated her coldly. And yet, she loved him. Her reason was powerless against her feelings for Richard. No matter how blind and crazed it was, she cared for him, worried about him, desired him.

With a sigh, she stood. Perhaps her love for Richard was God’s punishment for leaving the priory and for failing to dedicate her life to the Lord. She had wanted a husband, a lover. She had desired romance and passion. Having received everything she’d wished, she had no right to complain.

She wrapped her arms around her body and sought the strength to return to the palace. There was a sound behind her. She turned and saw a familiar silhouette.

“Are you returning to the scene of your triumph, Astra? Does it thrill you to think of how beautifully your plan worked? How well you succeeded in making me into a groveling ass before the King?”

“It was not like that, Richard. I never meant to hurt you. I... I love you so much. I was willing to do almost anything to have you, but I didn’t mean for things to turn out the way they did. I know you feel you cannot trust me, and I cannot blame you for being angry.”

“You do not blame me! How noble of you, Astra. How fucking noble!”

She flinched. Any attempt to explain was hopeless. Richard could only see it one way. He believed she had humiliated him for her own ends.

She saw his face and was afraid. He reached out and grasped her arms, running his warm fingers along her chilled flesh. Then he brought his mouth down on hers for a rough, possessive kiss.

He kissed her until she felt breathless and lightheaded. Then he released her, and she knew the terrible sense of loss all over again. There was still no warmth in his eyes, for all that his face was flushed with passion. He grasped her arm fiercely. “Come along,
wife
. The night is early.”

* * *

With each step he took, Richard forced himself to remember the pain and humiliation she had caused him.
She had enticed him, betrayed him.

They walked down the wainscoted hallways of the palace. As they neared the bedchamber where they had spent their wedding night, he seized her and began to undo the laces of her gown.

“There was no need for that!” she cried. “We are almost to the bedchamber. I will undress for you there. Can you not wait?”

“No. I want you here, against this wall.”

She struggled to push his hands away, but he maintained his possessive hold. “I don’t wish you to wear undergarments, Astra. I want to be able to unlace your gown and fondle you whenever I wish.”

“That’s indecent!”

“And yet, you didn’t protest when I undid your bodice in the chapel. If you were willing to flaunt yourself then, why not now?”

“I didn’t flaunt myself. I was fully dressed until you near-ravished me!”

“But you knew it would happen. You planned it, and you did not care who saw. Tell me, Astra, was it thrilling to display yourself to the King of England?”

Her eyes widened and she did not answer.

“I’m afraid it was all for naught. For all that he was likely stirred by the sight, Henry is a pious, self-righteous old fart. He’ll never make you his mistress.”

She pushed him away and struggled to be free of his grasp. “How dare you say such a thing? I could not even imagine doing something so despicable. The King is married, and Eleanor is my friend. Besides, I am married as well. I would never betray my vows.”

“They say it begins with little things, Astra, small lies, small betrayals. Gradually it becomes possible to undertake schemes of greater and greater evil. Before you know it, actions you once considered despicable come to seem quite acceptable.”

“It was not like that, Richard. I never meant to hurt you. I thought I could make you happy.”

“You lie,” he muttered. “You wanted me. Your lust for me was as strong as mine for you, but you would not give in to it until you made certain you trapped me into marriage. You pretended to be a pure and virtuous lady, but the truth is, you are ruled by that sweet, warm piece of flesh between your legs. You made me wed you because you wanted me to bed you and that was the only way your precious conscience would allow it!”

* * *

He felt her slump against the wall, distressed by his words. The anger seemed to seep out of him. Nay. He would not weaken.

He began to stroke her breasts. He played lazily with her nipples, watching the rosy tips tighten to hard, enticing points. Overcome, he began to pull up her skirts.

Astra gave a little shriek of surprise. He silenced her with a kiss and pushed her against the wall. His right hand found its way between her thighs.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

“Making you wet. I don’t want a struggle like last night.”

“Please... let’s go to the bedchamber.”

“I like it here. Admit it. You like it, too.”

“Someone could come along at any moment. A servant... anyone...”

“If you don’t want it, why are you so wet?”

“I... I don’t know!”

“Because you can’t resist me. You’re made for me, Astra. For my hands, my mouth, my...”

“But not like this!”

It was only her false modesty that made her protest. He could feel her body welcoming him. “Jesu, you’re nothing like last night. You’re so wet and slippery. My finger goes inside you easily. Mmmm.”

“Oh! Please!” She leaned against him, moaning low in her throat, her whole body shuddering. Then, suddenly, she pushed against him, throwing her weight into his chest. Surprised, he staggered backwards.

* * *

Astra let out a shriek as Richard crashed into the wall behind her. “If you promise to wait until we get to the bedchamber, I’ll help you up,” she whispered.

“What if my ardor has cooled? What if I don’t want you any more?”

She stared at him, saying nothing. She had never known such a baffling, changeable man.

He started to rise stiffly, as if something hurt him.

“Are you well?

“Well enough.”

That was all she needed to hear. She turned and scooted into the nearby bedchamber. For a moment she considered barring the door, then discarded the notion. It would be best if she did not provoke him further.

He loomed in the doorway. She took one look at his intent face and backed away.

“Please, Richard...”

He smiled. “Do you fear me, little wife?”

“No,” she whispered. She must be brave. She must make him see reason. “Why should I fear you? You are my husband.”

“Nay, Astra, I am not your husband. I am your
unwilling
husband.”

She could feel his bitterness, the raw wound she had dealt his pride. Once again, the image of a trapped animal flashed into her mind, unnerving her. She moved backwards until her legs were pressed into one of the large chests that edged the room. He followed her, moving with the slow, easy grace of a cat stalking its prey. She held her breath as he loomed over her.

He stared intently at her ruined bodice and half-exposed breasts and sighed softly. “Despite what you’ve done, I can’t seem to rid myself of the urge for your flesh. I want to take you and take you, again and again, until I am weary of the sight and feel of you.” His gaze moved to her face. “What think you, Astra? How many times must I have you tonight before I am satisfied? Five times? Six?”

She did not know what was wrong with him. He seemed to hate her and yet lust for her at the same time.

He moved towards her and pinned her against the chest with his thighs, clearly intending to finish what he had begun in the hall.

She glanced towards the open door. “My lord, please, cannot we ensure our privacy?”

“Are you afraid the King’s guard will come along and see us? Perhaps I could invite them in. It might be entertaining.” His pressed his groin deeper into her belly.

“I... You would not!”

“Mmmm. I wonder.” He stroked her cheek with a calloused finger.

Richard was only trying to embarrass her. Surely he did not really want anyone to see them like this.

His finger still stroked her face, moving down to trace the line of her jaw. “I think for now, I will keep you for myself.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, although she remained reluctant to open her eyes.

She cried out when he lifted her up onto the clothing chest. A candelabra crashed to the floor. Fortunately, it was not burning or the beautiful carpet would have been ruined. Richard jerked up her skirts. His hands found her bare hips.

“Open your eyes, Astra... and your legs.”

She did as she was told, watching him with expectation and sudden desire. It was horrifying to think that someone might come in and see them. But strangely arousing as well. He pulled down his hose, and she felt his shaft warm against her nether lips. He pushed her legs farther apart and at the same time, pulled her towards him. She gasped as he entered her.

She groaned, somewhere between delirious pleasure and agony. It was too much—surely a woman was not meant to accommodate a man like this.

Richard moaned too, and sweat glistened on his face. “Sweet heaven! I cannot move,” he whispered.

Silently, she praised the heavens that Richard was forced into immobility. If he moved, she was certain her body would break into pieces.

“You are so small, so tight.” His hand slid up her thigh, searching for the juncture of their bodies. His fingers found her taut, aching outer lips where they surrounded him and began to stroke.

“Oh, please,” she moaned. “Don’t do that!”

“Why not?” he asked silkily. “Don’t you like it?”

“Oh! I... I... it is near unbearable!”

“It makes you wet. It makes your sweet slit open wider for me.”

“Oh! Ohhhh!” She cried out as he touched the exquisitely tender spot buried in her cleft.

“Have a care how loud you moan, lovey. The door is still open.”

She glanced behind him, at the open door. It did not matter. She could not move, could scarce think enough to breathe. “Oh, Richard, please stop!”

“I have only begun.”

He began to thrust into her, and everything dissolved into a throbbing, blinding miasma of feeling. Her breasts bounced and her body screamed with pleasure. He braced her as he drove in her, harder and faster. At the last convulsive lunge, she screamed.

He collapsed against her, panting. She was overwhelmed with tenderness for him. She wanted to clasp him to her breasts, to stroke his hair. Yet she hesitated. Lovemaking did not seem to evoke the same feeling in him as it did for her. But now that he was satiated, would he be less angry?

He disengaged himself from her, an odd smile quirking his lips. “That was once, Astra. How many more times will there be tonight?”

She pulled her skirts down and regarded him warily, then slid off the chest. Her legs quivered, but she made it to the door. She shut it tightly and then turned to her husband.

He leaned against the chest, regarding her through slitted eyes. “As unbelievable as it seems, I am still not satisfied.”

She had heard that men needed time to recover after lovemaking. Could he really perform again immediately? “Can we undress first?”

“Undress.” He shrugged.

She felt awkward again. It was maddening. He had just done the most intimate thing to her that a man could do to a woman, and yet she still felt shy around him. Would he ever stop making her feel like this, as if his hot eyes upon her had the power to stop her heart from beating?

She slipped out of her clothing, her breath quickening as she bared more and more of her body. She was keenly aware of the wetness dribbling down her leg, the smell of him upon her.

“Now, undress me,” he said.

She walked towards him, not knowing how to begin. She knew nothing about undressing a man. His clothes baffled her.

“My boots,” he prompted.

She knelt down. He obediently held out his foot. She pulled. The boot came off easily. The other one she had to tug. She was perspiring by the time she moved on to his hose.

She reached beneath his long tunic, and her hands touched his waist, feeling his taut, warm belly. She pulled his hose down. Her face was near his crotch, but the tunic concealed his shaft.

She stood up and began to undo the laces at the neck of his tunic. Her fingers were shaking, although she was not sure why. She reached around to work the tunic up over his back. He made no move to help her, only stood there, his arms dead weights as she tried to pull the sleeves loose.

She had to stand on tip-toe to ease the tunic over his head. It caught on his massive shoulders. She paused and rested while she considered pulling the tunic over his face and leaving it there. Instead, she reached up and gave a final tug, freeing him from the last of his clothing.

Their faces were only inches apart. Richard was watching her with an amused grin. It made him seem boyish. She wanted to kiss him.

“Touch me.”

She took a deep breath. His skin was warm and tantalizingly smooth. Her fingers skimmed over his hard flesh as she savored the strength and maleness of him. She found each scar, each imperfection in his fine, brown skin, and caressed it. He shifted impatiently. Then he grabbed her hands and brought them to his groin.

“Touch me there.”

His shaft was not hard, but neither was it soft. She touched him gingerly, wondering what he wanted. She looked up and met his eyes. They were cold.