Enchantress Mine (36 page)

He was stroking her breasts again. His warm hands cupped and fondled her while his fingers played with the tight buds of her nipples. Gently he pinched the sensitive flesh, pulling it out to roll the tender tips between a thumb and forefinger. Mairin murmured softly with pleasure.

I want him! she thought. I want to be taken and totally possessed by this man; I want my virginity to end.
Sweet Holy Mother!
He doesn’t know! Mairin suddenly realized she hadn’t told him that she was still a virgin! She hadn’t even thought of it seriously until this very minute! It had not mattered, considering all that happened since he had come to Aelfleah.

She was a widow. In light of their love play she knew that he would assume her to be totally experienced. How many virgins had experienced the various kinds of passion she had with Basil? And then came to their marriage beds still virgins? Could a man really tell if a woman was a virgin? It was something she had never considered before. What was she to do? This was hardly the time for them to discuss it.

Josselin was burning with desire for his beautiful wife. Her provocative actions had aroused the most incredible lust within him. He had never felt this way before. She was the most exciting female that he had ever known. He didn’t know whether to be delighted by this knowledge or not. Passion was not, after all, a quality one expected in a wife. Then feeling her warm, silky body atop his, he could no longer resist. With a groan he rolled her over so that it was he who mounted her.

“Enchantress, I will wait no longer! You have kindled a raging inferno within me that I am not even certain possessing you will ease.”

“Josselin . . .” she began, but he silenced her with a kiss, and she felt him seeking between her thighs. She pulled her head away from him desperately. His kisses were like a drug which always left her feeling dizzy with pleasure. “You don’t understand!” She made another attempt to tell him.

Gently he put his hand over her mouth. “No, enchantress,
you
don’t understand. I am hot to have you, my adorable flame-haired wife, and I will without further delay!” His legs straddled hers and his big hands firmly parted her thighs. One hand reached forward, a slender finger slipping between her nether lips to gently rub at her little jewel. He knew the action always excited a woman.

A soft hiss escaped her. His touch sent a tiny flame of desire racing through her which was followed by several others in quick succession. Her body was both weak with her longings, and tense with her imaginings of what was to come.
I must tell him,
she thought dreamily, but it was too late. His mouth closed over hers again, and she could feel the smooth head of his manhood probing her unresisting flesh to finally press forward just within her passage.

I must be gentle for it has been a long time since she last received a man, he considered thoughtfully. She is so tight! So very tight! Ahh, sweet Jesus! How I want her!

She tried to relax, willing her young body to be warm and welcoming, but she was suddenly afraid. Pain! Eada had said there was pain. He was going to hurt her, and she had to stop him! He had to know that she was a virgin! They couldn’t do this thing! She panicked completely, all her sweet memories of pleasures fleeing before her fear. To his great surprise Mairin struggled wildly against him, twisting this way and that, almost unseating him in her terror. Her fists beat against him with serious intent.

At first he thought it some new game she played. Catching at her hands he yanked her arms above her, and began to once more press forward within her. “Why, enchantress,” he demanded of her through gritted teeth, “do you play the virgin with me?”

Bosom heaving with her exertions Mairin managed to sob, “I am a virgin, my lord!
I am!
”

He was about to laugh, then he unexpectedly found his progress within her delicious body impeded by some barrier. Thinking he had imagined it, he drew back, gently advancing only to find himself again prevented from any further progress. Amazement written upon his features he looked down at her questioningly. “What sorcery is this, enchantress?” he demanded feeling the insistent throbbing of his manhood, and the need to complete what they had started.

“None, my lord,” she sobbed. “Basil did not consummate our union. I was too young. There was no time!”

“No time?”
The words exploded in his brain. There had been time enough to teach her a courtesan’s tricks, but none to honestly consummate a marriage? What the hell kind of man had Basil of Byzantium been? Why had he not made Mairin completely his wife? Josselin’s head was beginning to throb. Why was he so angry? he wondered. Mairin was a virgin. No other man had even known her. None ever would. She was his, and his alone. He could feel himself aching with his need to finish what had begun.

“Enchantress,” he groaned, “I will try to go gently, but I cannot stop now!” He began to move once more within her, pulling back to begin a tantalizing, rhythmic motion that left her gasping with pleasure. Then when she did not expect it, he burst through her maiden barrier burying himself as deeply as he could inside her, saddened by her sharp cry of pain, yet glad to have been the only man to have heard it.

Her own cry echoed in her ears. The pain seemed to be everywhere. It spread up into her chest, and down almost to her knees. Was this pleasure? It couldn’t be! And then as quickly as it had claimed her the pain was fast receding from her body like a tide. A different feeling began to grow, a feeling of such enormous proportions that she was almost as frightened of it as she had been of her other fears. Still it was not unpleasant, only unfamiliar. Reaching out she clung to Josselin, some primitive instinct leading her onward now, her lips moving against the side of his face.

He had lain for a long moment atop her, willing himself still so that she might regain herself. Then feeling her arms about him, her soft mouth kissing him, he could no longer restrain himself, and began to drive within her with a sweetly sensual rhythm that he knew would bring them both to eventual fulfillment. Her sharp little nails began to claw him, but at the same time he felt her make the first tentative movements of her own in answer to his body’s call. Very quickly they were moving together as one, and her face soon told him everything he needed to know.

I have died, she thought. I have died of pure pleasure! She was very conscious of him. He was big and hard, and throbbing with an unbelievable heat inside of her own pulsing body. She ached with his loving, and at the same time she soared like a falcon. Up. Up. UP. Surely she could go no higher! Yes, her bemused brain told her. I have died, and it is magnificent. Then she was whirling downward into a warm darkness that suddenly claimed her.

With a groan Josselin loosed the flood of his seed into her eager virgin’s body. In his entire lifetime he had never known such fulfillment with a woman! She was perfection, and she was his wife. Rolling his weight off of her he wrapped his arms about her, holding her close. “I love you, Mairin,” he said simply, smiling against the tangle of her hair as she sighed softly and replied, “I think I love you too, Josselin.”

He managed to pull the fox coverlet over them before they fell into an exhausted sleep, and they slept for most of the night. In the cold, gray light of dawn Mairin awoke. She was aware of an incredible feeling of well-being such as she had never experienced. She heard the sound of his breathing next to her. Mairin turned her head slowly and saw that he lay yet sleeping, one arm flung over his head, the other across his eyes. He looked vulnerable in sleep. She wondered what his life had been like when he had been a child. His father had obviously accepted him despite his bastardy. Who are you, Josselin de Combourg? she wondered with a little smile. Who are you, you who are my husband and my lord?

“Good morning, my lady wife,” his voice said, piercing the quiet. His eyes were still closed.

Mairin chuckled. “How long have you been awake, my lord?”

“Since before you awoke, enchantress.”

“And you lay there while I contemplated you?” He nodded, and she chuckled again. “Thou art a villain at heart, my lord,” she said, but she was smiling, her eyes light with laughter. “Have I properly fed your vanity now?”

“What were you thinking as you looked upon me?” he said.

“Despite our marriage and our coupling I was realizing how little I know you, Josselin de Combourg. I was wondering what your childhood had been like.”

“It was happy and it was unhappy,” he said, fascinated by her thoughts.

“Why?” she probed.

“You know the circumstances of my birth, Mairin. I lived at Combourg from the time of my birth until I was four years of age when my father remarried. My mother and I were then sent to my grandfather’s house. I was happy in both places. I was well loved by my parents, and by my grandfather. My much elder half-sisters, Adelé and Bruis were kind, and spoilt me.

“My father visited my mother each day while we lived away from him. Then his young wife died in childbed delivering my half-brother. At first there was much consternation that Guéthenoc might not live, but a strong, healthy wet-nurse was found for him, and he thrived. By then mother and I were back at Combourg. This time my father would not listen to his relations, and he wed with my mother. I was six then, and it was then my life began to change.

“Of course my mother was anxious to prove to my father’s family that she was fit to be his wife and the chatelaine of Combourg. She lavished great and loving care upon my younger half-brother. Guéthenoc was, of course, by virtue of his legitimate birth, my father’s legal heir. My mother would allow nothing to discomfit Gué. Knowing no other mother my half-brother adored her unquestioningly. When he was two I was sent to William of Normandy to begin my formal education for my father would educate me as he had been educated.”

“And you were unhappy to be sent away,” said Mairin.

For a moment Josselin’s eyes grew distant and sad. Then he answered her, “Yes, I was unhappy. By that time my mother was more Gué’s mother than she was mine. It has been that way ever since. She was a wonderful mother to me for six years, but today there are those in Brittany who believe her my half-brother’s natural mother for she behaves that way. I am considered my father’s motherless bastard.

“I would be lying if I said to you that I did not resent it. I do, yet I feel guilty. My family has never denied me their love or support. By making my own way I learned my worth, and that is important for a man. Still each time I see my half-brother with my mother I ache. Her eyes light with pride for his meager accomplishments. They turn away from the sight of me for my presence embarrasses her. Nothing I can ever do will wipe away for her the stain of my bastardy.”

“And your father?” Mairin queried curiously.

“My father has always been kind, but he has never allowed me to forget that I am his bastard, and not his legitimate son. Still he has provided well for me, considering. It was he who opened the doors to William of Normandy’s court for me, and in the years in which I was yet young he oversaw with honesty the inheritance that my maternal grandfather had left me. He has never denied my paternity, acknowledging me publicly as his son. No, my father has treated me well, considering my birth.”

“How old are you?” Mairin asked him. “I am your wife, and yet I do not know the simplest things about you.”

“I am thirty. My birth date is August 3rd. I know that you are sixteen for Eada has told me, but when is your birthdate?”

“October 31st, Samhein eve.”

“Samhein? Do you keep the old ways, Mairin?”

“I light my fires,” she said warily. “I have done so all my life. Dagda taught me, for my mother’s people did.”

“It is a pagan rite, Mairin. I do not think the church looks kindly upon such behavior.”

“Pah!” she snapped at him. “What do you really know of it, my lord? Do you understand why the fires are lit?”

He had to admit that he didn’t.

“Then I will explain it to you,” she said, “but do not think to forbid me for I will not obey you in this one thing! Samhein is the start of the new year when the earth begins the slow cold death of winter that must always precede its rebirth in the spring. Do you find that un-Christian?” Mairin had conveniently neglected to mention to her husband that Samhein was also the time when it was thought that the barriers between life and death were the lowest, and it was believed that the spirits moved most freely between the two planes. “Imbolc on February 1st celebrates the lactating of the ewes, a certain sign of the returning spring. Beltaine, May 1st, is a spring festival of fertility, of conception, and was once in our past the traditional day for Celtic marriage. Lugnasagh which is celebrated on August 1st is a feast to commemorate the sun, and the energy represented by life in all its diverse embodiments. Is any of this wrong, my lord?”

“It does not sound so,” he considered slowly, “but what does Father Albert think of all of this, Mairin?”

Mairin chuckled. “Father Albert comes from Cymru—Wales—and the Welsh are a Celtic people. The fires are not unusual here in this part of the country. As long as the Mass is well attended the clergy tends to look the other way.”

“It is not so at the Norman court, my lady wife,” he told her. “The king is most orthodox in his beliefs, and seeks to cleanse away any heresy on the part of the clergy. In this he is firmly supported by the pope.”

Mairin raised herself upon an elbow, and looked down into his face. Her flame-colored hair hung like a curtain from her head down one side of her body: “Do you usually speak on such weighty matters as religion with the women who share your bed?” she asked him teasingly. “Is it a Norman court custom?”

One breast was hidden by her arm and the curve of her body; the other, however, was quite visible. Turning himself Josselin clamped his mouth over its nipple, and tugged upon the soft flesh. She gave a little shriek of surprise, and pulled herself into a half-sitting position against the pillows, but instead of releasing his hold upon her he simply moved with her.