A Memory of Love (43 page)

“Hah! I may very well have to protect you,” she laughed, and he chuckled at her sly observation, not in the least offended.

“If it comes to that, I will welcome your fighting skills, wife, but for now it is your
other
skills I prefer.” His hand tightened on her neck, and tilting her head back, he kissed her hungrily. His mouth was hard. His lips scorched her lips, wet and hot and eager.

“Devil,” she murmured when he finally took his mouth from hers. She twisted her body subtly, rubbing against him teasingly.

“Witch!” he returned, attempting to hold her still. But she was quicker than he was and squirmed from his grip, turning her body and steadying herself as she straddled his torso, her tempting little bottom facing him, revealing her sex to him with its little jewel that peeped from beneath the coral flesh. He groaned with pleasure as she leaned forward and took his manhood into her mouth. Bending, he offered her the same service, his tongue finding her sensitivity and working her fiercely until she cried out, releasing his aching member that now longed to bury itself within her.

“Oh, Rafe!” she sighed as she rolled herself onto her back and held out her arms to him.

Sliding between her legs, he entered her hot wet love channel, filling her completely, and then he lay still for a moment atop her. Her breasts were soft beneath his chest. Her torso was silken. He could feel her fingers tangling in his dark hair, kneading at his scalp with her anticipation. Raising himself slightly on one hand, he pushed a finger into her mouth, and she sucked at it so hard he thought she would swallow it. He withdrew slightly, and then thrust hard into her again, and she whimpered with her desire. How often in the months since she had given herself to him had she controlled their passion with her wonderful and varied sexual games? Tonight, however, he wanted to be in charge. Pushing himself up, he sat upon her thighs, his throbbing member deep within her body.

“Please!”
she whispered.

“I am not ready,” he said softly, his hands reaching out to fondle her sweet round breasts.

“You are as hard as rock within me!” she half sobbed.

“Aye, and I would remain that way for now. Was your master, the caliph, always in such a hurry, wife?” He moved subtly on her. “Old men are frequently in haste lest they lose their ardor.” He gently squeezed the soft twin mounds.

“He … c-complained as do y-you. Oh, God, I want it!” she cried desperately.

He reached out and took her little jewel between his thumb and his forefinger, pinching the sensitive flesh until she was half mad with the pleasure he was arousing within her. “There, wife, you see what delights can be attained when you are not so damnably eager?” He covered her body again with his and began to piston her in earnest, his torso meeting hers with a fierce force until they were both mindless with their shared lust and moaning with their fulfillment. When his love juices had filled her, however, he remained within her body. His lips met hers with gentle passion, and they kissed and kissed until he was once again hard with his desire for her.

She had always held a little bit of herself back, but this night Rhonwyn could not restrain her own passions and yielded every bit of her love to him without question. She felt both weak and strong at the same time. He overwhelmed her with his hunger for her, and yet she felt freer than she had ever felt in all of her life, and she was not afraid. Wrapping her legs about him, she encouraged his ardor until they were both weak again and replete with pleasure. Then she wept in his arms with her happiness, and Rafe de Beaulie understood what it was that Rhonwyn had finally given him.

His arms tightened about her, and his big hand smoothed the tangle of her golden hair as he made unintelligible soothing noises to comfort her. Finally he whispered to her, “Wife, do you not know how much I love you? I have told you often enough.”

“There has never been a love as sweet as ours!” she sobbed. “I wish I had been a virgin for you, my darling! Oh, I do!”

Rafe laughed. “Thank God you were not, Rhonwyn mine. I far prefer your skills and expertise in the arts of love to artless innocence.”

“Truly?”
She looked into his face anxiously, and her lashes were spikey wet clumps.

“Truly!” He nodded. “Edward, I suspect, did little for you, but your caliph was obviously a man of sophistication. He overcame your fears and taught you well how to please a husband. I am grateful to him, my love, but I am also very jealous. Should you ever turn a lustful eye on any man but me, I will kill you with my bare hands!”

“Truly?”
she teased, her look wide-eyed and ingenuous.

He swiftly turned her over and spanked her bottom a loving smack. “Truly, you provocative witch!” he told her as she squealed with her surprise. Then he gave her another spank for emphasis.

Rhonwyn rolled over. “Oh, I think I like that,” she said wickedly. “Would you like to spank me again, husband? I can be very naughty, you know.”

He laughed and gave her a quick kiss. “Woman, you are quite wicked enough as it is. Now, let us get some rest. If I am to be alert to your wild Welsh kin, then I must sleep.” He yanked the coverlet over them, wrapping his arms about her and falling asleep almost immediately.

Rhonwyn snuggled against him, breathing in the male scent of him. A small smile touched her lips. I wonder, she thought, if it is right to be so damned happy? Then she closed her eyes and slept.

The summer came, and with it a messenger from Haven Castle telling them that the lady Katherine had been safely delivered of a second son. Rafe and Rhonwyn were asked to come to Haven to stand as Henry de Beaulie's godparents.

“Bless your sister,” Rhonwyn chuckled. “She will have peace within the de Beaulie family in spite of Edward. For all his bluster she rules him with a firm hand. I wonder that we were chosen wee Henry's godparents. It was certainly not Edward's choice.”

“But we will go and please Kate,” Rafe said, “and you and Edward will not snipe at one another.”

“Do not be jealous, husband,” she replied, stroking his cheek with her hand. “How could I feel anything for Edward when I am so madly in love with you?” Then standing on tiptoes, she gave him a quick kiss.

“Do not think to cajole me so easily, wife,” he said. “I am wise to your clever ways, Rhonwyn.” He shook a warning finger at her.

“And you love them all as you do me,” she taunted him. “Do you not, Rafe?” She gave him another quick kiss.

He laughed. “You are impossible, wife,” he told her.

“Would you have me any other way, husband?”

“Nay, I would not,” he admitted.

Haven Castle was a two days' ride from Ardley. How odd it was to be returning there, Rhonwyn thought as they approached it. She remembered the first time she had seen Haven as she came with her father to marry Edward de Beaulie. How impressed she had been by the beauty of the castle. How frightened, and yet how hopeful her innocent heart had been when she met Edward. She had never been like other girls by the very nature of her upbringing. When he had demanded his marital rights, and she had bargained with him to gain custody of Glynn, Edward had been angry. She suspected he had never forgiven her.

How shocked he had been by her skill with weapons. Why could he not, like Rafe, have appreciated her expertise with the alborium and the sword? Perhaps that was why he had been so ready to declare her dead when she had been captured by the infidels. Rhonwyn smiled wryly to herself. Poor Edward. Kate was the better wife for him, and Rhonwyn was certainly the best wife for Rafe. This would be the second time since her marriage to Rafe that they had come together as a family. It had not been a successful meeting last Martinmas.

Kate greeted them joyously, coming slowly across the hall to meet them. “You have come! Mab, bring the baby so his godparents may view him. Come and sit with me, brother, Rhonwyn. Where is the wine for our guests?”

“You are pale,” her brother said, a note of concern in his voice. He took her little hand in his and kissed it.

The baby was brought, and he looked exactly as his older brother had looked the previous year.

“He is your spit,” Rhonwyn remarked cheerfully to the castle's lord.

“Aye!” Edward replied proudly. “Two fine sons in two years, and more to come, I promise you.”

“Perhaps you will wait a bit before you make another,” Rhonwyn said quietly. “Kate looks tired and should have a rest.”

“Are you jealous then, lady, that I can get sons on Katherine so easily when I could not get them on you?” he said belligerently.

Rhonwyn swallowed hard. “I think of Kate, and so should you, Edward. It is not easy, I am told, to conceive and bear new life. If you love your wife, you will give her time to recover from this birth. Two sons in two years is hard on a woman. If, on the other hand, your pride in your randy cock and Kate's fertile womb are greater than your love for her, you will kill your wife sooner than later. But then you would take another wife as quickly as you could find one, would you not? That, it would seem, is your custom.” She smiled sweetly.

Rafe held back his laughter, instead saying,
“Rhonwyn,”
in a warning tone. Secretly he agreed with his fiery wife.

“Outspoken as ever,” Edward said meanly. “Rafe should beat you.”

“He finds loving me works better,” Rhonwyn snapped.

“What? You actually allow him between your legs, lady?”

“As often as he desires me, and that is quite often,” she snarled.

“Enough!”
Rafe said in a harsh voice.

“Oh, yes, please,” Kate said. “Let there be peace between you two. We are a family and must be united.”

“I apologize, Kate,” Rhonwyn said softly. “I shall try and behave for your sake. When is the baptism?”

“Tomorrow,” her sister-in-law said.

“Then we shall be able to return to Ardley afterward.”

“Oh, will you not remain longer?” Kate pleaded.

“We cannot,” Rafe spoke up quickly. “Rhonwyn is in the midst of making soap and conserves, and I must supervise the building of a new granary we must have before the harvest next month.”

“Do you not have a bailiff to do such work?” Edward asked.

“Why should I hire a bailiff to do what I am capable of?” Rafe replied. “I am not the master of a castle, Edward. I have but a small manor.”

“Greatly enriched by additional lands since your marriage,” his cousin said sourly.

“Which reminds me,” Rafe continued, “you have not yet repaid Rhonwyn's dower, and we will be wed a year next month.”

“You will have to wait until I sell some cattle,” Edward replied.

“I will take the cattle in exchange for the coin,” Rafe said. “This is not a debt you want outstanding, Edward.”

“What an excellent solution,” Katherine de Beaulie quickly spoke up. “Is it not, my lord? Now you may avoid all that fuss of driving the cattle to market and the haggling that goes with it.”

“Indeed, my love, you are correct,” Edward said with a smile at his pretty wife.

Kate smiled back, secretly relieved to have avoided any further argument. She was very tired and had not the strength to mediate between her husband, her brother, and Rhonwyn, who was so damned prickly, although she was trying not to be. Kate had had to give her elder son to a wet nurse as she could not nurse both children; but even so the new child had a healthy appetite that exhausted her. He persisted in nursing every two hours.

Henry John de Beaulie was baptized the following day at midmorning. Afterward his family drank a toast to him in the great hall of Haven Castle. The baby had howled loudly as Father John had poured the holy water upon his fuzzy head, and everyone in the church had smiled. The infant's cries were an assurance that the devil was leaving him. Rhonwyn held her godson, and when he turned and nuzzled at her breast, she felt an odd sensation surge through her body. She continued to cradle Henry in the hall until finally his nurse took him away, but not before she had kissed his little downy head. Then and there she realized with surprise that she wanted a child of her own.

“So,” Rafe said, coming to stand by her side, “I see in your eyes that you have decided to stop drinking that brew of yours each morning.”

“You knew?”
She was amazed, and quick tears filled her eyes. He had known she was preventing conception, yet he had not forbid her, even though it went against him and the church.

“You have been forced your whole life. Why would I make you have a child until you were ready? I know I am capable of making babies, for I have two bastards at Ardley. Besides, I am a selfish man, wife, and have been enjoying our shared passion. If you now want a babe, then we shall work very hard at making one.” He kissed her forehead and brushed away the tears that slipped down her cheek.

“I do love you,” she said softly to him.

“I know,” he replied.

“Devil!” She smiled at him.

“Witch!” he rejoined.

Seeing them, a shadow crossed Edward de Beaulie's handsome features. Why had Rhonwyn not loved him the way she obviously loved his cousin Rafe? He would never understand it, but he had at least been fortunate in his Katherine. He had no doubts regarding his sweet wife, and he knew he never would. Still, he could not help but envy the fire that so obviously burned hotly between Rhonwyn and Rafe. Why had not such a fire burned between him and Rhonwyn?

Over Katherine's gentle protests her brother and his wife departed for their own home, but not before Rafe had taken Edward aside.

“Rhonwyn is right,” he told his cousin. “Kate is fragile, and she is now well worn with giving you two sons in so short a time. If you cannot contain your lust, find a willing serf upon which to slake your desires. You do not want to kill my sister with your loving, cousin.”

“I know you are right, though it galls me to be chided by you,” Edward replied. “Still, I do love Katherine, and I would not harm her. I will do as you advise … if I cannot contain my lust.”

Rafe grinned. “Good,” he said. “Then I shall not have to kill you, cousin.”

Edward laughed, and the tension was broken between them. “Tell me,” he said, “do you truly love Rhonwyn?”