A Man of Value (9 page)

“Aye. My mother is with me, and her maidservant, Enid. My friend, Leofric, isn’t far behind us with another family, the Brightmores. And we’ve travelled part of the way with two other families bound for Kent.”

She had a man embracing her who was the embodiment of masculine beauty, a man who was what women dreamed a knight should be. He was begging her to marry him, but she understood, from what her mother had told her of men, that they were driven by needs different from a woman’s. Ragna Kirkthwaite had often boasted her husband still loved her and was faithful, even after the years and the birth of three children had taken their toll. But she’d cautioned Agneta not to expect that in a man. It was wise to be prepared for a man’s eye to wander, once he tired of his wife.

She’d seen only the kind, gentle side of Caedmon, but he had the heart of a warrior. Look what he’d done at Bolton. Warriors were hardened men. Caedmon burned with hatred for Normans, as her desire for vengeance made her loath the Scots. Would hatred bind them together? She had to make a decision. She had no trust in men, but—

“I will marry you, Caedmon,” she whispered, relieved to be rescued, but resenting she had no choice.

He picked her up, laughing and whooping, and twirled her around until they were both dizzy.

“Caedmon, this is a nunnery.”

“It’s of no import to me!”

She managed a smile, her heart lifting to see him exhilarated. Perhaps he did care for her?

“I love to see you smile,” he said with a grin. “Come, I want my mother to meet you.”

“But my clothes, my hair.”

“That won’t matter to her. She’s anxious to meet you.”

He strode off and returned a few minutes later, with an older woman. Her hand rested on his arm. Her bearing bespoke nobility and pride.

“Mother, may I present my betrothed, Lady Agneta Kirkthwaite. Agneta, my mother, Lady Ascha Woolgar.”

She heard the pride in his voice. Her first impression of his mother wasn’t what she’d expected. The still-beautiful woman greeted her with great warmth, though there was something about her grey eyes—loneliness. Lady Ascha had been a widow since before Caedmon was born. She shuddered at the thought. She saw the love and respect that Caedmon shared with his mother and admired the courage of this woman who had fled to Scotland and raised a child alone.

At least I won’t be alone when I marry Caedmon.

“We’ve spoken with the Abbot, Agneta,” Lady Ascha explained. “He has agreed to marry you after banns have been read out three times, but has suggested he’ll do it in one day at the Morrow Mass, High Mass and Vespers.”

Agneta nodded.

“Now, Caedmon,” his mother suggested, “Why don’t you take Agneta and introduce her to the others in our party?”

All her new acquaintances attended the ceremony. Agneta had to smile when she recognized Enid as the maidservant who’d been searching the group for her.

Mother Superior forbade any of the novices to attend. She acted as Agneta’s sponsor, and Leofric, who’d arrived in time with the Brightmores, stood with Caedmon. Agneta greeted Leofric coolly. She recognized him instantly, despite his disfigurement. This was the man who’d stood at Caedmon’s side looking at the barn.

The ceremony seemed to be over quickly and Agneta didn’t recall much of what was said or done. Everything was happening too fast. She felt breathless. The one image she would remember was her new husband’s smiling face, and his chaste kiss after the Abbot gave permission.

Their meager belongings had been readied for departure, and as she and Caedmon were preparing to leave the Abbey, Agneta was summoned by her Superior. “Come with me, child. I’ve something to give you.”

Once they reached the private office, the woman held out an object wrapped in sacking. Agneta’s heart raced. She didn’t need to unwrap it. She stepped away. “I prefer not to take it.”

“You must take it, Agneta. It can’t remain here. It belonged to your grandmother, and your mother. It represents pain and sorrow for you, but sometimes it’s good to have a reminder of those things. It’s part of your heritage. Something to pass on to your children.”

And what will I tell them? My mother took her life with this dagger.

Reluctantly, she took the bundle, but didn’t unwrap it. The religious smiled weakly and gave Agneta a perfunctory kiss on each cheek. “Go with God, child.”

As she walked back through the cloisters, Agneta remembered how pleased her Superior looked. Caedmon had never questioned why she was no longer wearing a habit when he returned, never asked about her hair being uncovered, or about her vows. “He knew,” she whispered. “He knew I’d been shunned. How could he? How could Mother Superior have known he would come?”

When she reached the courtyard, Caedmon’s voice interrupted her musings. “I’ve only the one horse, my love. We’ll have to share Wyvern. Will you ride before me?”

“Put this in the saddle bags, please, Caedmon.”

He took the bundle she thrust at him, tucked it away, and eased back in the saddle, to make room for her.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

“You and I will go to a nearby lodging house for our wedding night. We’ll return here on the morrow and all travel south together.”

As they rode away from the fledgling Abbey that had been her sanctuary, Agneta turned to look back.

“Tell me your thoughts,” Caedmon commanded softly.

She fingered the coarse woolen cloak. Without emotion, she said, “The nuns gave me shelter, clothing, and sustenance, but it was a strict, Spartan life, a life of poverty, without love and affection. The focus of a nun’s life is to be the Bride of Christ. But, working in the infirmary, I learned a great deal about healing, and it used to bring me special privileges. I was appointed Infirmarian after you left.”

“Special privileges?”

“I was often excused from the soul destroying monotony of daily masses, prayers and rituals that usually started in the hours just after midnight.”

Caedmon laughed. The deep rolling chuckle of his laugh warmed her.

They rode in silence for a while. Once again, Caedmon’s husky voice broke into her reverie as he nuzzled her neck. “It’s a good thing we’re going a short distance to the lodging house today, Agneta. It’s sweet torture to feel your body pressed against me in the saddle. But, you seem preoccupied?”

She blushed. She’d striven to ignore the evidence of his arousal by not allowing their bodies to touch, but that had become a back-breaking physical impossibility. She decided to face him with her concerns. “We may not have love between us, husband, but I hope we’ll have honesty.”

He remained silent.

“How did you know they’d turned me out?”

“You’re right. We have to have honesty. I made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

“An offer? I don’t understand.”

Caedmon hesitated before continuing. “Every abbey, priory, and convent needs money to continue its existence. None of them have enough of it. Your Abbey had something I wanted desperately. They wanted money more than they wanted you, so they can continue with their building.”

“You bought me?” she screamed, swiveling round in the saddle to face him.

He grimaced. “Agneta, did you want to stay there? Are you telling me you would rather stay there than live with me?”

She turned away from him. “Where did you get the money?”

“My mother gave it to me.”

“Did she know what you planned to use it for?” she asked sarcastically.

He reined the horse to a halt. “Look at me, Agneta. I’m not a man who lies to his mother, or tries to bilk her out of money. My mother has made many sacrifices for me and, only God knows why, but she loves me dearly. It was her idea. She gave me the money gladly. It was she who spoke to your Superior.”

She felt instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. Your mother is a loving person. I didn’t mean—”

“Agneta,” he said, urging the horse forward again, “Be happy. I’m happy we’re married.”

“So am I,” she conceded regretfully.

Caedmon cursed inwardly, afraid what he’d told Agneta could interfere with his plans for their wedding night. As soon as the words about the Abbey were out of his mouth he regretted them. They rode the few miles to the large lodging house where he’d made previous arrangements for a private room.

“There are other establishments closer to the Abbey,” he explained, after they’d climbed the stairs to their chamber, “But I wanted to make sure the room was spacious, the bed comfortable and vermin free, the food good and the linens clean.”

Agneta took off her cloak. “Thank you,” she murmured. “It’s a nice chamber.”

As he shed his warm jacket, he noticed she didn’t look at the bed. “My Scottish burr at first made the landlady cautious, but when I explained it was for my bride, she couldn’t do enough to accommodate us.”

A buxom maid entered a few minutes later, carrying a tray laden with something that smelled delicious. She eyed Caedmon with appreciation, but looked at Agneta’s hair with undisguised scorn.

Slumping into a chair, Agneta tried unsuccessfully to fashion a braid at the back of her neck. “I hope my hair grows quickly. It’s ugly, and I have only this one dress and chemise, as well as my cloak.”

Caedmon went to stand behind her, took her hands from her plaiting, combed his fingers gently through her hair and inhaled the scent of it. “Your hair is the colour of chestnuts.”

It was good she was in front of him, and couldn’t see his body’s response to touching her. “We’ll get you more clothes when we arrive in Ruyton, if you can manage until then. Though, I’m hoping you’ll not be spending much time clothed.”

He felt her flush at his suggestive remark. How to get through the supper without tearing off her clothes and taking her right away? The surcoat the nuns had given her wasn’t a flattering garment, but it revealed curves the habit had hidden. He sensed his Agneta had a body that would more than fulfill his needs and he longed to join it to his own. He only hoped he could satisfy the passion he was sure was part of her nature. He’d seen it in those incredible eyes.

They ate the tasty food prepared by the cook. The roast chicken was tender and juicy and they had to lick the greasy goodness off their fingers. He looked away when she turned her gaze on him, sure his eyes would betray his burning need to taste her. He poured each of them a goblet of wine, hoping to relax her. She sipped it, peeking at him over the top of the goblet, her long lashes fluttering as she tested the unaccustomed taste. His heart raced and his arousal throbbed. She was an innocent. He would have to be gentle. He’d never bedded a virgin. He prayed he would do this deed right. He’d long dreamt of it.

He rose from the table and took hold of her hands, pulling her up to his body. He kissed her lovingly and she gradually responded by licking him tentatively with her tongue. He sucked it into his mouth. Slowly, he cupped his hands around her tiny bottom, and pulled her tightly to his body.

She whimpered then whispered his name nervously.

Go slowly.

His hand wandered over her body, touching the curve of her breast, the contour of her hips. He kissed her neck, then her throat. He lifted the dress from her body, and she stood before him wearing only the thin linen chemise the nuns had given her.

She was shivering, her eyes fixed on the wooden planking at her feet. “It’s not a very elegant nightgown for our wedding night.”

“I couldn’t ask for a more beautiful bride,” he whispered.

He slipped the chemise off her shoulders and bared her breasts. She gasped as the garment bunched at her waist, but didn’t raise her eyes. He fought the desire to lick the dark nipples as he slid the chemise over her hips. It pooled on the floor. He stood back to look at her. She wrapped her arms around her breasts. His breath caught.

She’s afraid.

He took hold of her wrists and moved his hands slowly to coax her arms away from her body. He kissed the inside of each wrist, watching her face. She’d lifted her head, but now her eyes were closed. The enticing scent of female arousal invaded his senses.

She desires me.

He had an urge to put his fingers between her legs, sure she would be wet for him. He swallowed hard at the sight of her perfect breasts, the taut dark nipples with their large haloes, the flat belly and curvaceous hips. She was trembling, her eyes open now, but still downcast. “Oh, Agneta,” he murmured.

She thrust her head back. Their eyes met for an instant then she looked away shyly and stared at his feet. “I don’t know—”

He came close to losing control.

My little nun is trembling because she’s unsure, not because she’s afraid of me.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you.”

She nodded, and watched him, wide-eyed, as he tore off his clothes and soon stood naked, his need obvious.

She whispered shyly, “I’ve glimpsed male parts before, Caedmon, in the infirmary. But yours is—”

Though she’d nursed him, she’d never seen his manhood before! He felt like strutting like a cockerel. “Agneta, I’ll spill myself soon, like some green youth,” he groaned. He could tell she didn’t know what he meant. He swept her up and carried her to the bed.

Nudging her legs open, he knelt between them, cupped her face in his hands, leaned over and kissed her deeply. She arched her body to his. His hand found her breasts and tenderly rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, teasing. A sound emerged from deep in her throat, and she arched again.

He suckled one nipple and she screamed a loud throaty yell as her first release took hold. He’d not yet touched her most intimate female flesh and she’d released already. He’d been right in his assessment of her passionate nature.

“My beautiful Agneta,” he rasped, his heart bursting with the knowledge he’d been the one to give her the first taste of ecstasy.

When he stroked her female bud with his fingers, her eyes widened. She keened cries of pleasure and he felt her wet heat. She was ready. He didn’t want the pain to be too great, but couldn’t wait any longer. “Open your legs wider for me,” he breathed. She spread her legs and he slid his swollen phallus into her and pushed past the barrier. It felt right.