The Deed (6 page)

We are both under pressure, my lord, she pointed out grimly.

Aye, but... Muttering, he tugged the blankets aside and gestured to hisat the
momentnot-too- impressive manhood. It had been quite impressive moments ago, while he had
been thinking of his bride undressing behind the screen and imagining the night ahead. But
it had shrunk and shriveled with every new shout through the door, until now, it seemed
almost to be trying to hide within itself. All was lost, he thought miserably.

Emma stared at the third appendage between her new husbands legs with fascination. Never
having seen a naked man before, she had not known they carried one of those around with
them. She had been too embarrassed to look when Fulk had been stripped and set abed with
her. She leaned forward to get a closer look at the item now. It looked to be a shrunken,
deformed leg, much like the arm of the girl in the village who had been born not quite
right. She didnt have any fingers or thumbs on her small stump of an arm either, just as
Amaurys extra small stump of a leg seemed devoid of toes. Perhaps this was not

common to all men, she realized suddenly. Perhaps her husband was displaying a deformity.

My lord, this is not the time to be confessing your... er... oddities, she said in a
strained voice. We all have our flaws. Now, please tell me what I am to... Her gaze was
still fixed on the rather tiny appendage as she spoke, so when it started suddenly to
grow, the words stuck in her mouth and she watched with renewed fascination. As far as she
knew, the village girls arm did not grow. What an odd ability her husband had!

Hes dismounting! someoneEmma suspected it was Mavisscreeched.

Have you done the deed?! Rolfe roared, panic edging his voice.

My lord? Emma tore her gaze to her husbands face.

Lie down, Amaury instructed grimly, hope rising up in him again as the simple act of her
eyes on his body sent it back into action.

Emma immediately dropped back on the bed, gasping in shock when he suddenly shifted to lie
atop her, his sprouting third leg pressing against her inner thigh.

Is this the consummating? she asked anxiously, for while it was a bit more difficult
breathing with him atop her, there really was no pain and she was sure he had said

Not yet, Amaury muttered grimly. Open your legs.

Open my... ? Her expression was bewildered.

Hes at the castle door! came the half-hiss, half- whisper as the castle seemed to shudder
under the impact of that door slamming open. Then there came a rustling as everyone rushed
back down the stairs.

My lady... Aye. I am sorry. Is it done?

Amaury stared down into her anxious face, and had to wonder how just having her peer at
his manhood had made it stand proud in seconds. That had been unexpected. It had also
saved them, or was about to, he thought grimly as a mans bellows moved up the stairway
drawing closer to the room.

I am sorry, he repeated, once again apologizing for the pain he was about to cause and
thrust forward. Emmas cry of startled pain ended on shocked dismay as the bedroom door
suddenly burst open.

The population of the entire world appeared to stand in that open doorway, Emma thought
faintly. At

least the population of her small world. Lord Bertrand, the bishop, her cousin Rolfe, Lord
Blake, Lord Amaurys men, and every single servant of the keepincluding those who had been
sent out on watchappeared to be at the door to that room. Every single one of them was
vying to see the couple on the bed. Eager to assure themselves that the deed had been done
and they were safe from the man standing panting in the doorway, exhaustion and defeat
struggling on his face as he stared at the entwined couple through the bed curtains she
had thoughtlessly left wide open on crawling into bed.

There was a heartbeat of time where everyone simply froze. Then Amaury suddenly moved.
Leaping from atop her, off the bed, and sweeping the blankets up to cover her in one fluid
movement, he snatched his sword from where it leaned against the wall and turned to face
the intruders, completely and gloriously nude.

What is the meaning of this?

Emma glanced sharply at him. Despite the fact that he had been more than aware of the
events occurring, he was giving a most credible portrayal of a groom unexpectedly
interrupted on his wedding eve. She took a moment to marvel at his ability, then glanced
toward Bertrand.

Her memory had not served her well. While she had known that Fulk and his cousin had been
of a similar size and were both smaller than Amaury, she had not realized by quite how
much. Good Lord, the man looked like a boy before her new husband. It did not help that
Blake and her cousin Rolfe crowded the doorway behind him, towering over him by a good
head. He was like a dwarf amid a room of giants. A very diminutive, fair-haired dwarf.
There was not a bit of bulk on his frame, and while his features were handsome, they were
soft and weak next to the harsh planes and angles of her new husband. There was no doubt
in Emmas mind that should there be a battle, Bertrand would not fare well against Amaury
de Aneford. That being the case, she was a bit surprised when the man suddenly drew
himself up to announce, I come from the king.

When Amaury merely raised an eyebrow, the bishop pushed his way through the crowd to the
front of the onlookers.

Our apologies, my Lord Amaury, the older man said smoothly, none of his earlier panic
evident in his voice. As Lord Bertrand says, he comes with a letter from the king stating
that should the wedding not already be consummated, it should be made null. However we can
see

We can see no such thing. There was a note of panic in Bertrands voice now. All we saw was
them embracing. They have not consummated the marriage. Tis null.

Amaury allowed the tip of his sword to drop to the floor, and he leaned on it in a
seemingly relaxed manner. I beg to differ with you, my lord. Unlike your cousin, I did not
dally. This marriage is well and truly consummated.

Bertrands face twisted briefly in defeat mingled with weariness as he glanced to where
Emma sat wide-eyed on the bed, the bed linens clutched to her chest. Then he smiled
suddenly. Prove it.

Emma blinked in confusion as all eyes turned to her, wondering how they were to prove it.
Were they truly expected to perform that atrociously painful act again? And in front of
them? Again? For they had certainly been well and truly joined when everyone had burst
into the room. At least she thought they had.

Peering at the bed, Amaury knew at once the problem. The bedclothes were black... as was
everything

else in this bloody castle. Blood would show on white sheets, but doubtless would not on
black.

True, the sheets would not show, Rolfe said confidently, stepping up beside the bishop now
as he too caught the drift of Bertrands thoughts. Howbeit, Amaury carries the proof
himself.

All eyes, including Emmas, now turned to Amaury and dropped to that odd appendage she had
noticed earlier. At the sudden unexpected attention, the appendage, which had remained
tall and proud throughout, suddenly shriveled under the weight of so many eyes. But that
was not what made Emma gasp. It was the blood that covered the member. Amaury had hurt
himself. She glanced worriedly up to his face to find that, despite his injury, he was
suddenly smiling.

Lifting the tip of his sword off the floor once more, Amaury took a menacing step forward.
If one and all are quite satisfied that I accomplished what Lord Fulk obviously neglected
to do, my lady and I would enjoy some privacy, he said pointedly.

Of course, my lord, the bishop murmured, and with the help of Sir Rolfe, managed to urge
the shocked Lord Bertrand out of the room. Turning back at the door, Rolfe paused long
enough to give his cousin a cheerful wink, then tugged the door closed.

Amaury sighed his relief and set his sword back to lean against the wall, then turned
reluctantly to the bed, only to see that it was now empty.

Eyebrows rising, he glanced sharply around the room to find his wife standing naked by the
washstand. She apparently had not wasted a moment in hopping out of the bed once the door
had closed. He could hardly blame her after the painful fiasco she had just endured. No
doubt she would never wish to repeat the act again, he thought glumly, and sank onto the
side of the bed. Face dropping into his open hands, he propped his elbows on his knees and
sighed wearily.

My lord? Her cool hand on his knee brought Amaurys head up swiftly. If I might? she said
quietly, carefully avoiding looking at his manhood, even as she urged his legs apart.

What? Amaury asked uncertainly, his legs spreading automatically, but her next move
explained all as she began to bathe his stained manhood.

You have injured yourself, she said quietly. It must have occurred during the...

Joining, Amaury finished for her, catching her hands in his own as he felt himself stir
under her gentle touch. My Lady

Emma. Emma? Aye, Emma, she said simply. Tis my name.

Oh, aye. Emma. Here. He urged her up off the floor to sit on the bed beside him, smiling
wryly when she suddenly noticed her nudity, blushed, and drew the bedclothes up around her
shoulders to hide herself.

We should tend to your wound, she said uncomfortably when he continued to simply smile at
her, then regretted her words when that smile faltered.

But I am not the one injured. Careless of his nudity, he stood and urged Emmas legs up on
to the bed so that she was lying down again. I fear tis you who has been injured, he
informed her.

Me? She looked startled at that. But you are the one bleeding.

Nay. He shook his head and gently drew the sheets away to reveal her body again. Tis you.

Emma glanced down when he gestured, and noticed with surprise the blood on the inside of
her legs. Sitting up abruptly, she stared at herself in horror. It was not her womans
time. She should not be bleeding, and yet she was... from inside.

Are you not still in pain from the joining?

Aye, but I have been since... I thought... Putting her hand to her head as the room began
to spin around her, she fell back on the bed with a gasp. Am I dying?

Nay, my lady, he said reassuringly, then frowned at her pallor. Youve turned quite white.
I fear I do not handle the sight of blood well, Emma confessed faintly. Amaurys eyebrows
rose at that. You did not react so to the blood on me. Aye, nay. Well, but then I did not
know it was mine own.

Oh... aye, Amaury said wryly. Bending, he retrieved the cloth she had used on him, wrung
it out, and tended to her even as she had done for him.

Face going from white to red, Emma grabbed at his hands. Nay, I... she began with
embarrassment, falling silent when her new husband turned a determined look on her.

I am your husband, was all he said, and it was enough. Emma released his hands and lay
back, suffering his gentleness in silent embarrassment.

Besides tis no more than you did for me, he added as he finished cleaning away the blood
and tossed the cloth back into the bowl. Rest now.

Aye, my lord, Emma murmured in what she hoped was a suitably dutiful voice as he drew the
bedclothes up to cover her. Her husband seemed satisfied with that as he stood and moved
around the bed to climb in from the other side.

Emma lay silently for a moment. Afraid to move and disturb the stranger in her bed, she
let her gaze move around the room. It had been her bedroom for two years. It had always
looked as it did now, and yet suddenly it seemed completely different. She could not
really understand how. Nothing had changed... And yet everything had.

Concentrating on making her breathing slow and even, she listened to the sound of revelry
floating up from the Great Hall below. Her people were celebrating the marriage and its
consummation as well as being saved from toiling under the hand of Lord Bertrands mother.
That thought made her wonder why the old woman had not been at the door beside her son.
Emma could only assume that in his effort to get here before the marriage was consummated,
Bertrand had had to leave her behind and hurry on ahead.

Whatever the case, Emma was grateful for her absence. Truly the woman was formidable. Emma
most likely would have shriveled under her cold fishlike eyes.

Emmas gaze slid to the window beside the bed and she sighed. It had been an unusual day.
Quite taxing really, what with learning of her upcoming marriage, worrying that her
husband would not arrive, awaiting him at the church, the ceremony itself, and then the
exceedingly tricky business of the joining as Amaury had called it. She felt a bit foolish
now that she realized just what consummating the marriage meant, and had to wonder what it
would have been like with her first husband. As unpleasant as the chore was, she could
well see why Lord Fulk had not seen fit to accomplish it. He had forever avoided anything
unpleasant. Still, it was the only way to achieve children.

That thought startled Emma into laying a hand gently against her stomach. She knew enough
to be aware that that was where the child would grow and be carried. Their child. Hers and
Lord Amaurys. Aye, she must be carrying his child, for surely it only took one such
painful joining to make a babe? Else she was sure people would have fewer babes.

Emma floated to sleep, a small smile playing about her lips as she daydreamed about the
child she was probably already carrying.

Hes gone to lick his wounds.

Emma flushed and straightened from her slightly crouched position by the table in the
Great Hall. She had been surveying the group of unconscious men lying about the floor,
searching out Lord Bertrand. Now she turned to face her cousin as he reached her side. Who?

Lord Bertrand. He departed as soon as we came back below stairs yester eve. That is who
you were looking so cautiously for, is it not?

Emma smiled wryly. You know me too well, Rolfe.

Shrugging, he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. Where is your husband? Still abed?

Aye.

It must have been a wearing night. Emma felt herself blush again at his teasing, and
sought quickly to change the subject. Do you wish to break fast?

Rolfe grinned at her obvious tactics, but decided to let her off the hook. Turning, he
raised one eyebrow at the Great Hall and its contents. Aye, breaking fast would be nice.
However, I doubt you shall have much luck in rousing this rabble.

Aye. Sighing, Emma surveyed the previous nights celebrants. The Great Hall was a-clutter
with people. All of them unconscious. Men and women alike were strewn across the floor
like dropped chess pieces. It would be difficult to cross the hall, let alone make room at
the table to dine. Turning abruptly, she strode toward the double front doors. Come.

Eyebrows rising, Rolfe followed at once, the promise of food a strong lure. Where are we
going?

Around to the back door of the kitchen to find something to eat, Emma announced, tugging
the door open and leading him out into the crisp morning air.

Rolfe grimaced at that. I do not much care for the idea of eating in the kitchens, Em.
Cook will have our ears.

Cook is unconscious by the table beside his wife. Sides, I was thinking we might go on a
picnic.

A picnic?

Aye. Emma threw a grin at him over her shoulder as she led him around the building. We
have not had one for ages. And I have missed our little excursions. Emma smiled softly as
she thought of those brief escapes from the castle when they had been children. They had
collected bits of food while the cook wasnt looking, and then crept out into the woods
surrounding her fathers castle to feast on their stolen fare before playing hide and seek
in the trees. There is a lovely clearing just ten minutes away on horseback. It has a
little brook running through it.

Sounds charming. Rolfe smiled slightly, caught up in remembrances of his own. Emmalene had
not been a proper lady then. She had been a hooligan of the highest order. And she had
always insisted on being the dashing Lord Darion when they had played Catch-me- if-ye-can,
rather than the fair maiden as he had been sure she should. She had been as daring as any
boy as she had flown through the woods, scrambling up trees and swinging from branches.
Her skirts had never slowed her down, for she had hooked them at her waist to keep them
out of the way. Or simply borrowed a pair of Rolfes braies. If her father, his own uncle,
had ever caught them at it, he would most likely have tanned them both.

Ah, who was he fooling, Rolfe thought wryly. Uncle Cedric had indulged them in all things,
especially Emma. He most likely would have turned a blind eye. In fact, he more than
likely had been aware of their games and had turned a blind eye.

Here we are, Emma announced. Pushing through a door into the kitchen, she collected a
basket from the corner and began filling it.

Shaking his mind free of thoughts of the past, Rolfe peered down at the food Emma was
packing away. Whoa, cousin, you do not need that much. There are only the two of us.