Part 18 (1/2)
The little coc.o.o.n of warmth around Alisoun made her want to stretch, but when she moved her legs, every muscle skidded along the bones and she moaned.
”Sore?” David's voice sounded warm and sure, and his hand-the hand that had been resting on her ribs-moved to her thigh. ”Let me...” His fingers moved across the skin, kneading first with gentle strokes, then deeply. ”That better?”
For one cowardly moment, she didn't want to face him. But that was stupid. She'd made the decision to pleasure herself with him yesterday after her discussion with Philippa, and she couldn't hide from him now. Not after the intimacies of the previous night. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and found him face-to-face with her. She was warm because his body draped over her left side and one of his legs wrapped around both of hers.
Maybe she should have pretended to sleep until he'd left the bed-even if he rested all through to the next morrow.
”Good morning.” His brown eyes were almost golden when he smiled, but his gaze was watchful and his smile studied rather than exuberant.
In the early morning light, she could see the chip of an ear that testified to his legendary status, but the hair on his chin and jaws had sprouted black and stubbly, just like any other man's. Yet she'd never seen another man from so close. She ought to say something, to show him she was the same Lady Alisoun she'd been the day before, but she didn't feel the same. She felt almost frightened, as if she'd dangled over a precipice and saved herself at the last minute.
He'd dangled with her, too, and gone over by himself. It was dark down there. She couldn't see what waited below, but she imagined thorns and jagged boulders would tear her to pieces, and what if David didn't catch her when she fell?
And what if he did?
He gathered a handful of long red hair and moved it behind her back. ”Alisoun?”
Shaking herself, she abandoned her silly fantasy and said, ”Good morning. Aye, that rubbing does make me feel better. My muscles aren't used to such activity, I suppose, and that's why...” He was still smiling, still ma.s.saging her, and she began to lose track of her thoughts. ”I'm better now, so probably you can stop.”
Still smiling. Still smiling.
”Really, probably you should stop, or we'll miss Ma.s.s and the priest will be irritated.”
Still smiling.
”Even more irritated than normal.” She couldn't think of another thing to say.
He waited, and when she was done babbling-she, Alisoun, countess of George's Cross, had been babbling!-he unwrapped himself from around her and kicked the rugs aside. Stretching, he groaned loudly. It didn't really sound like the noises he'd made last night-last night had been quieter and more intense-but she s.h.i.+vered under the impact, and she glanced down the length of him. Yesterday, when the men had carried him in and dumped him on the bed, she'd sized him up as a potential mate and father of her child. She'd been pleased to note that her regimen of regular meals had given him a bit more flesh; his muscles no longer stretched like wires under his skin. Yet now the fresh bruises had darkened to purple except where the old scars shone s.h.i.+ny white.
Any man who had survived and prospered as a mercenary knight had proved himself wily and tough. Any man who became a legend might be her match.
Had she swallowed the whale, or been swallowed by him?
”I'm sore, too,” he said. ”Probably more from tumbling off Louis than from tumbling you, but I lost my virginity years ago, so for me, last night was pure pleasure.”
How was she supposed to respond? I enjoyed myself, too? Summon me anytime you have need of hospitality? She knew the niceties of etiquette, but no one told her how to return a compliment like that one.
He studied her, then sat up in all his naked glory. She scrambled to cover herself while he fished around among the bedclothes, and when he came up holding her s.h.i.+ft, she just stared at it.
”Sit up.” He urged her with a hand under her back. ”You'll want your clothes.”
She did want them, but she didn't want him to dress her. He bunched up the hem of the s.h.i.+ft just like Philippa bunched up Hazel's gowns. Then he dropped it over her head and helped her thrust her arms through the sleeves. ”This is ridiculous,” Alisoun said. ”I know how to dress myself.”
”Aye, but I doubt if you get as much gratification out of it as I do.” David tied the ribbon at her neck, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. With his fingers, he brushed the tangled ma.s.s of her hair. ”I still can't believe this is red.”
”Nor can I,” Alisoun said sarcastically.
”It's glorious.”
”It's sinful.”
”If the sunrise be sinful, then this may be. If the daisies be sinful, then this may be. If G.o.d's creations bring pleasure to the eye, who dares complain?” He twisted the end of one lock around his finger. ”I will pluck the beard from any man who says my wife's hair is sinful.”
She fell back. His clasp in her hair caught and jerked her head around, and she exclaimed, ”Ouch!”
”Careful.” He untangled his hand and rubbed the painful place on her scalp in a manner that staked a claim. ”You're mine now, and I don't want you hurt.”
”Yours? I'm not yours.”
He smiled with every evidence of happiness, but that mindful cast still shadowed his features. ”I can see that a woman like you might take exception to that, so let's just say...that I'm yours. Is that better?”
”You're not mine, either. We don't belong to each other. We're not going to-”
Although his lips still smiled, his eyes narrowed.
”-Not going to...get...”
”Married?”
”Not...nay, not...married.”
”How will you avoid marriage with me if this night bears fruit?”
Comprehension came slowly this morning, but when she understood, she asked bravely, ”You mean, if I am with child?” Yesterday when she had decided that Philippa was right, that it was time to lose her bothersome virginity and learn the secrets of the sheets, she had faced the odds of pregnancy with a mature equanimity. This morning, when she imagined that a babe might already be nestled in her womb, she didn't feel so confident.
But she had to stick with her scheme. She'd considered it deeply, after all.
Well, perhaps not too deeply. She feared there might have been a physical part of herself that blocked a paltry bit of her good sense. When she examined her logic today, she might even wonder what she'd thought the day before.
But nothing David could say would change her plan. In a reasonable tone, she said, ”If I'm with child, I'll not point a finger at you or hold you responsible. I know it's unusual, but legitimate or not, my child would be the heir to my lands.”
”Not if you marry again.”
She was regaining control, and she rejoiced. Coolly, she said, ”I've begun to believe that's not likely to happen.”
He sat up. ”Is that why I was granted the honor of your bed? Because Simon of Goodney refused you?”
He might have struck her across the face, so brutal were his words. Her burgeoning control fled, and she stammered, ”Nay, 'tis not so.”
”I was used as a sop to your pride?”
But wait. He hadn't said anything, really. Accusing her of using him because she'd been humiliated in front of the court should bring nothing but scorn to her lips. Valiantly, she straightened. ”Simon of Goodney could never damage my-” She took a breath and fought these conflicting currents of anger, hurt, and embarra.s.sment which threatened to tear her authority from her.
”And you think you can bear my child and I'll gladly leave it in your incompetent hands?”
”Incompetent?” Amazed by his accusation, she scrambled up and sat on her heels. ”I'm not incompetent.”
”You have no idea what a child needs.” She tried to interrupt, but he swept on. ”Water, food, clothing-aye, I know you'll supply those. But what of affection? Will you hold the babe when it cries? Will you nurse it through illness? Will you do more than teach it its duties? I doubt you will, my lady. I doubt you even comprehend a word I'm saying.”