Masques of Gold (27 page)

For a little while, all were busy, Lissa fetching a cloth and exclaiming when she saw the silver salt and cups were also gone with her father. But there was a plain pewter dish into which she could empty some salt from the box, and there were pewter and wooden bowls and horn cups and extra wooden platters on which to lay some of the slices of meat Paul had carried from the cookshop. A single glance at the quantity had told Lissa that he had brought everything to her to be apportioned. She did that swiftly, remembering to take half again as much as her father would eat of each dish for Justin, who was bigger and more active.

When their table was laden, she dismissed Paul with what food remained, drew a stool to the table to sit on, and began to serve. As she poured wine, laid meat on the thick round of bread before Justin, and spooned stew into his bowl, something at the back of her mind kept niggling at her. She knew it was a little thing of no importance, and if Justin had not been so passionately devoted to what she had served him and had begun a conversation, she would have forgotten the uneasiness altogether. Justin did mumble an excuse for his voracious attack on the food, that he had had no proper dinner because of arriving late to the mayor's ceremony, but beyond that he made no effort at polite talk.

Lissa let him eat, confining her attentions to refilling his bowl and cup and piling more meat on his trencher, while she consumed her own meal more slowly. The feeling that she had forgotten something remained, however, and she began to feel a spark of concern, wondering if she had left something undone in the workshop below that would spoil her preparations. She let her eyes wander around the room until they returned to the table, and she suddenly remembered that she had told Oliva to divide the meal and send up enough for herself and Justin.

Well, now, that
was
a matter of huge importance to be nagging and niggling at her, Lissa thought, smiling as she piled what remained of the gravy-soaked trencher into her bowl and pushed it away. Why on earth had the matter even come into her mind, she wondered; but she had the answer almost as the question rose, and Lissa's amusement disappeared. The fact that Paul had brought up all the food had troubled her because it was a sign of Oliva's terror of Justin. Lissa caught herself and began to reexamine that wild-leap conclusion, but slower thought processes only made it more certain. There was no chance that Oliva had forgotten an unusual order. It was customary for her not only to divide the meal but to serve it, and she was in general a resigned and obedient creature, not sullen or rebellious. Some extraordinary pressure had caused her to disobey both custom and a plain order, just as the need to be rid of every reminder of her master had driven her to clear all sign of him from the solar before she cleaned Lissa's gowns.

A mingling of ideas sprang into Lissa's mind—first, that she had not realized how much Oliva disliked her father; that was a good mark for the woman. Second, that Justin was as opposite to William Bowles as it was possible to be, yet both Oliva and Adela feared him for no reason at all. Or was there a reason? Lissa sat, turning her cup of wine round and round in her hand and glancing from Justin to the fire. His face was very hard; she could see that the mouth in particular, with its thin, cruel line, promised no mercy. But she had felt the lips full and soft, and she had heard of many harsh acts but never one of wanton cruelty, cruelty without purpose.

At first Justin continued eating, but he was just picking a tidbit from his bowl now and again, and he soon became aware of those repeated glances. He pinched off and popped into his mouth a last, particularly succulent gravy-soaked piece from his trencher, tore off a piece of fresh bread on which to wipe his greasy hands, then lifted his cup of wine and leaned back in the chair. When Lissa's eyes came to his face again, he smiled and asked if he had turned green.

“No,” Lissa replied, gazing at him contemplatively. “Truly, you are, if not a great beauty, at least a good-looking man. I know you have a good reputation. I can see nothing about you that should induce fear, yet my maid, who is ordinarily sensible and obedient, sent up the whole dinner rather than dividing it belowstairs as I bade her.”

Justin lifted his wine cup and drank. “If you mean she sent it up because she was afraid I would be displeased with the portions she chose for us, that must be nonsense,” Justin said. “She is your maid; she must fear you, not me. Likely she just forgot your order.”

“I suppose you are right,” Lissa agreed, smiling at him; but she did not really agree, she only wanted to soothe the hurt that had flickered across his face and been swiftly masked with the lifted cup. She got up and piled the dishes together, then looked around and said, “Stupid woman, she forgot to send up water for washing our hands, I will just run down and fetch it.”

“Do not bother,” Justin said. “I should go now. My arming tunic will come to no hurt from a little grease and it will do my mail good.”

“Justin!” Lissa exclaimed. “Do not you dare say to me that I invited you to share my evening meal as if that were all I meant. All you want is to force me to ask in crude and blatant words for your body in my bed.”

He smiled, but somewhat uncertainly. “That was not my intention. I only wished to give you time for second thoughts.”

“Because I said Oliva was afraid—and you thought I was naming what I felt under a new name.” She came around the table and leaned against his shoulder. “I swear that is not true. It is exactly the opposite. I cannot see in you anything to fear—”

“And have begun to wonder if you are in some way blinded and whether I am a monster? I do not think so, but I am ready to give you all the time—”

“Justin, stop.” Lissa laughed at him. “You
are
a monster. You look so innocent and prate of giving me a choice, but you will not leave me a shred of decency or pride if I must—”

He pushed the table away, nearly knocking it off its supports, and stood up holding Lissa by the shoulders. “You say you are not afraid, but you are. Twice we have come close to loving; the first time you ran away, and just now you tried to run away again. I do not want any sacrifice. Whatever you want of me—”

“Oh, you fool,” she sighed, pressing forward against his grip so that she could rest her head on his breast. “Of course I am afraid. I fear you will find me wanting. I am no beauty. I am not the best-formed of women. I have no skill in coupling—to speak the truth, I do not look forward much to it. I found it distasteful, but—”

“Did he hurt you?” Justin asked softly of the bowed head.

“Very little. I told you he was kind. But he was—” She swallowed and then shuddered.

“Old and soft, like a used, dirty cloth?” Justin suggested. “You will find me different.”

Lissa looked up and smiled. “Of course. I never doubted that.” She hesitated and then went on very softly, “I was sure it would be better with you because I love you and wish to please you. I would not be only doing my duty with set teeth. But what if you find me like—”

She could not bring herself to say it, and Justin burst out laughing. “More likely I will find you like a new shoe that pinches and must be worn soft.” He caught at her chin as she began to look down again. “Dearling, I am not the handsomest of men nor the greatest lover either, you know. Women do not tie their sleeves or stockings to my tourney lance—and that is not because they fear I will be beaten and shame them. Perhaps I am not such a novice as you, but only because I am some years older and men do not wait for marriage. We will have to learn together.”

“Learn, yes. That I can do. But what if looking on me displeases you?”

“Oh, it will,” Justin said gravely.

Lissa gasped in shock. “Why?” she cried. “I am not crooked or clubfooted.”

“No, but I prefer my women in the ordinary colors for skin—pink or white or sort of tan. I am sure you will be all purple and blue and green and yellow—”

“Oh!” Lissa seized his ears, pulled his head down, and kissed him, whispering “Monster” against his mouth.

“You see, I am not the only one who can be befuddled by the perfect truth.”

He put one arm around her waist as he spoke and turned her toward the door to the bedchamber. Lissa had been about to make a smart rejoinder, but the words died in her throat. However, Justin hesitated again, and it was Lissa who took the first step. She freed herself from his grip as they passed through the door so she could pull it shut behind her, then stood facing him.

“If you will tell me what to do…”

“Come to the fire,” he said, and bent to replenish the fuel when they stood near the hearth. He straightened up and turned to face her. “Now give me your hand.”

She offered her right hand, somewhat puzzled when he lifted it to his lips and kissed the palm; then she gasped when he tickled it with his tongue, but she did not pull away. The next thing she knew, her sleeve was hanging loose, the tie undone. Without further instruction, she offered her other hand. It took quite a long time before Lissa stood only in her shift, but she had been so distracted by Justin's kisses and tickles that she did not give a thought to how the body she was baring compared with others. He ran his mouth up her arm. That bent him forward enough to reach the hem of the shift, which he pulled quite suddenly over her head and flung aside, turning his head to take her nipple in his mouth in a swift, drawing kiss. Lissa uttered a little cry and started back, then stopped and held her ground.

Justin looked her up and down, stepped to the side for an all-around view, smiled at her, and said, “Very neat. I have seen some larger and more curved, but I have no complaint—except about the colors. That shade of puce on your hip…I do not favor that at all.”

She had lifted one arm across her breast, but she lowered it deliberately. “I will promise willingly to avoid such skin colors if I can, but it seems to me you have an unfair advantage. Perhaps I might find this and that to complain of if our conditions were equal.”

“By all means,” Justin said with enthusiasm, pulling loose the ties on neck and sleeves and tossing his shirt to the floor.

Lissa said nothing; no smart words would come because he was so beautiful to her. His skin was very fair below the tanned neck, lined with thin blue veins that fed the swelling muscles of chest and upper arm. Across the chest below the collarbone and pointing down to a neat navel, which Lissa could see peeping over the tie of his braies, was a mat of tightly curled light-brown hair. Her eyes ate the strong body, and she felt her skin prickle. Without realizing what she was about to do, she came closer as Justin twisted to pull off a boot; then she knelt and removed it for him. She took off the other and untied his cross garters.

Meanwhile, Justin had untied the waist cords, and as soon as he felt the garters loose, he pushed off all his nether garments in two powerful shoves, presenting a very shocking sight to Lissa, who was kneeling before him. She uttered a choked cry, but before she could leap to her feet, he had knelt beside her.

“I did not mean to frighten you,” he said, putting one hand on her shoulder and cupping her face with the other. “Surely you have seen a man ready—”

“Not so ready as you,” she said, then giggled softly and shook her head. “No, I never saw a man ready before. Peter tired more easily than I did and always went to bed before me. And if he looked at me, I did not know of it. I—I turned my back.”

Justin bent his head so that their foreheads came together. “I did not know,” he said softly. “We cannot begin again, but we can study each lesson more slowly.”

“Slowly?” Lissa blinked and looked uncertain. “But will not your—your readiness…ah…depart if we do not hurry?”

Her speech ended uncertainly as Justin let out a roar of laughter and clutched her close. “Oh, no,” he assured her. “Master Cockrobin here will not soon tire of standing to arms, especially while he has hope of a soft, warm bed if he remains upright.”

Lissa blushed but did not presume to offer any more advice, since Justin's “readiness” was pressed against her belly by his grip on her and certainly gave no evidence of departing. Her awareness had been mostly fixed on that, and she did not notice that the hand that had been on her shoulder had slipped down until it began gently to stroke her breast. Lissa shivered, but this time she did not draw away.

“It does not seem to me that you need any lessons,” she said, her voice breathless and trembling.

“I need to know what pleases you,” he said.

“
You
please me,” she whispered.

He bent his head and kissed the shoulder he had released, then let go of her face and slipped his hand under her arm, pulling her up with him as he rose. “The floor is too hard. Come to bed.”

“It—I forgot to have it warmed.”

Justin grinned. “We will warm it soon enough, and I will show you a way that you will never know at all the sheets are damp.” On the words, he flung back the covers, lay down, and pulled her atop him. ‘There. Are you not warm and comfortable?”

“Warm, yes,” Lissa replied, startled out of her nervousness into merriment. “Comfort is another matter. You are all lumpy—”

She was about to complain about his hipbones and knees, but a smile of such delight and relief greeted her pert words that two revelations came to her simultaneously: Justin thought she meant his shaft when she said “lumpy” and was delighted that she could joke about it, and more important, he was as uncertain about pleasing her as she was about pleasing him.

“Move up,” he said, pulling at her, sliding her body along his until her mound of Venus had overpassed his shaft, which was moved against her nether mouth by the motion. A thrill of soft pleasure passed through Lissa. She uttered a sigh and, desiring to keep that warm pressure against her, could not control a small gesture of resistance to further movement. Justin stopped pulling at her immediately and whispered, “Open your legs.”