BindingPassion (17 page)

Watching the priest bless the stream chosen for this trial,
Philip’s heart pounded in his chest, beating so hard he felt sure it would
break free of the wall of skin and bone containing it. Fear was a drug that
slowed his every movement and tightened his throat to the point of making it
difficult to speak. Where was Thomas? Philip had delayed the proceedings as
much as possible, making a slow, stately procession to the stream, giving a
long-winded speech about the Lord’s Will for justice prevailing, and waiting as
long as he could to signal the priest to start his ritual. Time was running
out.

He couldn’t bear to look at Mary. His one glance her way
since they’d arrived at this spot showed him she’d made her peace with whatever
would happen here. Even did she die, it would be in peace. And indeed it might
well be so. All she had said since she’d agreed to try this plan was that she’d
heard drowning was an easy death.

He’d deliberately not looked at her as he’d announced to the
assembled household that the Lady Mary would undergo trial by ordeal in the
water. It was an ancient form of trial, not much used anymore since the
injustice of it was evident. The suspect was tied hand and foot and tossed into
a stream blessed by a priest. The theory stated that the holy water would
reject anyone with the stain of guilt on their souls, and they would rise and
float on the water, while the blessed stream would take to its bosom the
innocent, and they would sink and stay down. The likelihood, of course, was
that they would drown before anyone was convinced enough of their innocence to
fish them out.

It went against all his instincts to trust someone else in a
mission so critical, but he had to be here to make this work. And he couldn’t
help but admit Thomas’s argument that a lord must know when to do something
himself and when to delegate a task to another. He was right but that didn’t
make it any easier. And how sure was he could trust Thomas?

He looked around at the crowd gathered to witness this. Only
one was missing, but attention focused so tightly on him, Mary, and the priest
that he doubted the absence would be noted. Sir Peter and Derwyn along with his
other men-at-arms stood silent and grim-faced nearby.

The priest finished his blessing. Derwyn stepped forward to
bind Mary’s hands together behind her back and tie her ankles. He wasn’t happy
about it. In fact, he’d protested fiercely and loudly when Philip had assigned
him the task. Unable to explain, Philip could only ignore the man’s protests
and insist his orders be obeyed.

Thomas had better be right, or many of them would be haunted
by the events of this day. Philip knew he would never be the same. Thomas had
better hurry as well. Philip had delayed as long as he could. He had to act.

At his signal, Derwyn picked Mary up. Her green eyes met his
as she was lifted off her feet. A lifetime’s worth of emotion passed between
them in that one glance. He had all he could do to keep from snatching her away
from the man and running off with her. Derwyn carried her into the freezing water,
placing her in the very center. It was only five or six feet deep there, but
for someone clothed and tied, it was deep enough. They’d had to build fires on
the ice to melt an expanse of it for this test.

His heart nearly exploded in his chest as her body hit the
water. For a moment she did float, but as her clothes became soaked, she began
to sink. After a few moments, only her face remained still above water,
peaceful and resigned.
Where was Thomas?

The water dragged her under. Philip wanted to run in and
pull her out right then. He dared not, though. He had to wait a little bit at
the least. His fists clenched and he was nearly sick when he saw her face slip
beneath the surface. How soon could he act? He watched to be sure she didn’t
slide downstream and back under the ice.

Just as he was ready to declare the obvious fact of her
innocence and go fish her from the water, he heard the shout he’d been waiting
for.

“Innocent!” Sir Thomas proclaimed, galloping toward them.
“The lady is innocent! I have the proof.”

“Get her out!” Philip shouted. Derwyn and several other men
immediately jumped in and removed the sunken form. For a moment, though, he had
to turn his attention to Thomas. The man had dismounted. Sir Peter had gone
first to meet him. Philip watched the two have a few quiet words, then suddenly
Peter was running toward the horse and jumping into the saddle. He turned the
mount quickly and galloped off.

Philip was so overcome by the relief at Mary’s salvation, it
took him a moment to understand what had just happened.

He looked at Thomas, running toward him. “Peter?” he asked,
shocked. Thomas nodded.

They both turned to where the men had placed Mary on the
shore. She lay still and unmoving, eyes closed, face gray. “She’s not
breathing,” Derwyn yelled.

“No!” Philip knelt down beside her. He wouldn’t accept that
she could have died so quickly. What to do, though? Following an instinct he
just barely understood, he rolled her over and pressed on her back, pumping up
and down. Water began to pour from her mouth, then after too many long moments,
when his heart began to collapse in on itself, she coughed and gagged, spitting
out more water.

He wrapped his cloak around her and added the one Thomas
handed him as well. He held her until she was breathing near normally, then he
picked her up and began the long walk back to the manor. Exhausted by the
ordeal, Mary lay quietly, her head cradled against his chest. When he looked
down to be sure she was still breathing, she gave him a small, tired smile.

Sir Thomas joined him.

“Tell me,” Philip demanded. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t know with any certainty, but once I decided it
unlikely the Lady Mary was responsible, he became the most likely one. Besides
the servants, only those of us who sat at the head table had access to your
wine cup to put the poison in, but none of the servants seemed likely. And of
the group of us at the head table, only Peter and Derwyn were not on the wall
when the stone fell, but Derwyn was already in the hall when the dagger was
thrown. I found the broken knife in Peter’s quarters.”

Thomas looked at Mary. She still looked pale and her wet
hair and clothes dripped.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he said. “It was well hidden in
the bottom of a trunk. I came as soon as I had it.”

“You did well, and I’m grateful to you,” Philip said. “The
plan was a good one.”

The man nodded. “I wish I could have found it faster and
spared her that suffering.”

To the surprise of both of them, Mary herself spoke up. “You
proved I was not the one trying to murder my lord, Sir Thomas, and for that I
am grateful. My suffering wasn’t all that great, and it was worth it for all to
know I would never harm Philip.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Thomas said.

“My own nephew,” Philip said. “I understand it not. Why
would he do it?”

“I find it difficult to comprehend as well,” Thomas said.
“He was ambitious, was he not?”

“Aye. And he was my heir. He thought to have the manor for
himself, I suppose. If he could murder me in a way that made it appear Lady
Mary was guilty, there would be none to oppose his claiming it.”

Thomas nodded. “Will you have me go and seek to find him?”

Philip considered it. “Nay. I believe he’ll be well away by
now, and I doubt we should ever see him in these parts again. Let it go. He’ll
find his just recompense sometime, in this world or the next. I’d as leave not
have to explain to my sister why I executed her son, in any case.”

When they reached the manor Philip carried Mary straight to
her solar. Brianne met them there and insisted she would stay with the lady for
the next day or so to watch for any sign of lung inflammation.

Fortunately, though, that didn’t occur, and by the next day,
Mary was up and moving around, ready to set to work again on the Wedding
preparations. When Philip offered to delay the ceremony, she told him she saw
no reason for it. As guests began to arrive, her color improved and the sparkle
returned to her eyes.

She didn’t protest when Philip asked that she not come to
visit him again at night until they were truly joined as man and wife. He
regretted that resolution at least once an hour thenceforth until the day
arrived, and he began to plan all the delights he would have for her when they
came together again.

It appeared that even the Lord smiled on their union when
the day of their Marriage dawned clear, bright, and unusually warm for a
January day. People lined the road all along the way from the manor to the town
as they rode in separate carriages to the church. Friends and householders
filled the church to overflowing. They processed down the aisle and stood
before the priest to exchange the vows that would finally make them one flesh.

Afterward, the manor rang with music, talk, and laughter.
Feasting and dancing celebrated the joy shared by all.

The only small shadow on the happiness of the new bride and
groom was Sir Thomas’s announcement that he would be leaving. He said little
about why he was going other than that there were things he must do. Philip
suspected the man had things in his past that haunted him still, and he must
needs find a way to lay those ghosts. He agreed to part with him reluctantly,
promising the knight would always have a place to stay with him and whatever
assistance their friendship might afford him in the future.

The groom’s bridal gifts to his new wife included a set of
satin and velvet scarves, a chain girdle of fine silver links and a necklace of
pearls. Before their Wedding night was over he would manage to use all of those
items in ways their creators had most surely never envisioned.

Once the eating, drinking, singing, and dancing ended, the
ladies departed first to array Mary for the night in the new bridal shift made
for the occasion. The pale linen had froths of snowy white lace at neckline,
hem, and wrists. They undid her hair from the confines of the wimple and
brushed it out until it hung in glittering, rippling waves down her back. Then
they tucked her into Philip’s warmed bed to await her groom.

Meanwhile, the men hailed the night with one last cup of
brew. Sir Thomas proposed a long-winded toast to “the end of a man’s freedom
and his subjugation to the chains of matrimony.”

Derwyn waxed eloquent and concluded a poetic ode to
marriage, with, “‘Tis a thing of beauty when a man and woman who love each
other come together as one. Their love spreads outward from them.”

To which Sir Thomas responded, “So long as they do not
spread outwards too greatly themselves.”

They all accompanied Philip to his solar amidst many jokes
about preparing his sword for use, taking care in his feints and ripostes, and
sheathing it in the proper place. They met a giggly bunch of ladies exiting the
solar and found Mary under the covers, which were drawn modestly up to her
neck. They helped Philip remove his Wedding finery and don a night shift. When
they tried to assist him into the bed, he roared at them to “Begone!”

Only the bravest of men would dare argue with him when he
commanded so convincingly. For a moment it appeared Derwyn might step over the
line into foolishness and linger, but Sir Thomas put a hand on his arm and
dragged him from the room. They were last out and shut the door firmly behind
them.

Only then did Philip turn to Mary and reach out to draw her
closer against him. He kissed her hungrily and hoped he might contain himself
long enough to give her pleasure before his seed burst from his impatient cock.

They clung together for a little while, however, enjoying
the solid feel of each other’s bodies and grateful to find they were both still
alive and free and together. Mary leaned against him and sighed.

“Philip, I do believe you are my own personal foretaste of
heaven,” she said and kissed his throat. “And ‘tis clear the Lord God ne’er
meant me to be a nun.”

It near to robbed him of breath, but he managed to sigh,
“Praise the Lord for his wisdom in that.”

Then he couldn’t keep his hands off her breasts any longer.
He felt, caressed, stroked, kissed and suckled at them. He stroked her quim
until she was quivering with need.

He entered her quickly and pushed in as far as he could.
They were both frantic with need. They pumped hard, Mary pushing upward to meet
his rough thrusts. Neither of them could wait long, and their ferocity rose to
fever pitch within several rapid strokes. She shrieked as the tension wound her
body into a tight knot that suddenly unraveled in a wave of spasms that wracked
her body. Philip held out only one thrust longer before he groaned and spurted
into her hot, tight tunnel.

Afterward, they clung together, joined for as long as they
could.

When he rolled off her, however, Philip had no idea of going
to sleep just yet. He took the scarves he’d given her and teased her with them.
He caressed her throat and her breasts, stroking the soft cloth along them,
then tied a velvet scarf around one thigh and a silk one around the other. He alternated
rubbing them up and down her legs until Mary was squirming and squealing. Then
he used his tongue on her in a long slow lapping, while he caressed her breasts
with the cloth at the same time. He worked her until she screamed and dissolved
in spasms of ecstasy. He held her as the aftershocks continued to rock her
body.

She took the silk scarf and began using it on him in turn.
He sucked in a sharp breath and groaned when she rubbed it across his nipples,
but he nearly spent himself right away when she began to stroke it up and down
his cock. She knotted the scarf and let it flutter from the end of his cock
like a bizarre flag. When she tugged on it, however, the sensation flooded him
all but taking him out of himself. He dragged it off hastily so he could insert
his rod into her before he burst.

Even that didn’t completely slake their thirst, however.
After a brief rest, he began stroking her again, and she responded with her
usual heat and eagerness.

He took the silver chain and wound it around first one
breast, then the other, pulling it just tight enough to be excitingly
uncomfortable. He slid it around her thighs and worked it along her slit until
she sobbed and moaned.

She surprised him when she took it from him and pushed him
back down on the bed. Starting at the base of his shaft, she wound it around
and around his cock, until the entire thing was encased in silver mesh,
glittering in the light of the torches.

“How pretty,” she breathed, blowing along it and squeezing
just hard enough to drive the metal into his flesh in a most irritating and
exciting way. She unwound the chain from his cock and began to work it around
his balls and thighs until he was once again ready to explode. When he entered
her this time, though, he took a long, slow time, working them both up close to
the peak, then stopping, resting, and beginning the climb again. When he
stopped the fourth time, she punched him in the arm and said, “Now, damn you.
Now!”

“How can I refuse such a forceful lady?” he groaned, panting
with the effort to keep from spending right then.

A few more sharp strokes sent them both over the edge into
long paroxysms of pleasurable release.

Eventually they slept, wrapped up in each other. But even in
a sated sleep, he dreamed up new ideas for adventures to try.

Mary looked both surprised and puzzled when the first thing
he said to her as they roused with the dawn light coming in the window, was,
“Honey.”

“Honey?”

“Aye, you’ll see,” he promised. “And feel and taste. Now
come here and kiss your husband good morning.”