For Love And Honor (23 page)

“With good reason,” Piers said. “Roger claims
the Latin priests are so intolerant of other faiths that if he gave
them free entrance into Sicily to build monasteries or abbeys, they
would insist upon all the Greek churches being demolished and the
rubble swept out to sea, along with every mosque and synagogue, and
Latin churches raised in their stead. It would mean the end of
Roger’s peaceful kingdom. If Uncle Ambrose wants to leave George’s
house, except for the Latin cathedral at Cefalu, there are precious
few places where he can go and feel at home.”

“Which is what I wanted to discuss with you,”
Yolande said. “Uncle Ambrose does have a place. He could come here.
We have enough room. I do not think he would object to the
discreetly conducted romantic activities that take place between
husband and wife, do you? And, Piers, consider this: When you
return to Italy, as you must do soon, Uncle Ambrose would be
wonderful company for me.”

“You would be willing to do this? To take him
in?” Piers asked.

“What is this business of ‘take him in’?”
Yolande cried, angry now. “How can you say such a thing? Uncle
Ambrose is part of your family, and therefore part of mine. There
is no question of ‘taking him in,’ as if he were seeking sanctuary
from persecution. Of course I want him to come here. He can easily
use Theo Georgios’s library during the daytime, while at night he
will not have to pray constantly in order to put out of his mind
what Theo Georgios is doing with his two mistresses. Piers, stop
laughing at me!”

“I am not laughing at you. I am laughing in
sheer delight. What an admirable woman you are. Uncle Ambrose shall
come to us. I’ll speak to him tomorrow. Now, tell me,” he asked,
reaching out to lightly cup her breast, “what was that you just
said about discreet romantic activities between husband and
wife?”

The days began to shorten, signaling the
approaching end of the hot Sicilian summer. In Italy there was
still no sign of the long-expected invasion by Emperor Lothair and
his army, but, peace or no, the time had come for Piers to travel
to the mainland and visit his fief at Ascoli. On his last night at
home he and Yolande dined with Ambrose as usual. Ambrose excused
himself as soon as the meal was over and retired to his own room,
saying he had work to do.

“The dear man.” Yolande looked after him with
affection. “He wants to give us this time alone.”

“Then let us make the most of it.” Piers rose
from the table, extending his hand. “Come, sweet wife, it’s time
for bed.”

“Piers, the sun has not set.” She directed a
mischievous glance toward his crotch. “What a ravenous man you
are.”

“
Will you
come with me or no?” He anticipated a positive response, but he was
uncertain just what form the response would take. Yolande had a
delightfully seductive way of teasing him right up to the moment
when they lay unclothed upon their bed, at which point she
invariably turned fiery hot and eager for his embrace. And not
always in bed, either. There had been the afternoon when she had
arbitrarily decided their bedchamber was too far away, so she had
simply sat down upon him on the garden bench, claiming her
voluminous skirts would hide what they were doing. Or the memorable
day when they had ridden into the hills and she had drawn up her
horse at the exact spot where once he had refused to take her.
There, saying she had a promise to fulfill, she had with perfect
calm removed all of her clothes and lain down upon her cloak and
opened her arms to him. The memory of that passionate, sun-drenched
day m
ade him
grow even
harder in anticipation of the next few hours.

Piers knew he was blessed beyond the lot of
most men. Yolande was the loving, healing foundation of his new
life. Oddly, on this evening she made no teasing reply to his
question. She only put her hand in his and mounted the steps by his
side.

The setting sun shone into their bedchamber,
turning their bodies to gold as they undressed each other and
setting Yolande’s hair aglow with reddish light. She returned his
caresses with the same quickly roused interest she always showed,
but he knew her moods well enough to sense that there was something
on her mind. She waited until she was lying in his arms on the
clean white linen sheets, with the covers pushed down to the foot
of the bed because the air was so warm.

“Piers, I have hesitated to tell you this. I
didn’t want you to worry about anything while you are away, but I
think you ought to know. If I want honesty from you, then I should
keep no secrets, either.”

“What have you done, purchased some dreadful
piece of furniture for the house?” he murmured, his lips on her
throat. “Or have you invited the pope to live with us? The Romans
are currently causing the poor man such trouble that he will
probably accept your invitation at once. But how shall we explain
his presence to Roger?”

“Piers, I am serious.”

“
Hmmm.”
He wasn’t overly concerned about what she would say next. She had
some new announcement every day
– that she had taken in a stray cat, or brought a beggar
home to be trained as
a servant, or invited some bewildered
foreign
traveler to stay with
them for a while. He had grown accustomed to what he still called
her wounded birds. The loving heart that cared for him so tenderly
included the rest of the world, too. He could not begrudge her that
caring, nor could he be jealous of it. He knew her deepest, most
passionate love was reserved for him alone.

“I am going to have your child.”

It took a moment for her unexpected words to
sink into a brain befogged by rising desire. When he finally
understood what she had just said he lifted his face from her
shoulder and took his hands off her breasts.

“What?”

“Why do you look so surprised? When a man and
woman make love every day it is bound to happen.”

“Are you sure?”

“
Haven’t
you noticed that I’ve had only one monthly bleeding since we
married? Or did you think it was an arrangement made for your
convenience?” She was teasing him, and he knew it was because he
was so dumbfounded by her news. “Perhaps you thought my breasts
were enla
rged for your pleasure, too?”

“And you were going to let me make love to
you and perhaps harm the child?”

“If our making love last night, or the night
before, or every other night since we were married has not harmed
the child, why would making love tonight harm it simply because now
you know about it?” she asked.

“Yolande.” He cradled her face between his
palms, looking into her eyes. “0h, my dear, how happy you make me.
But are you uncomfortable?”

“Not at all. In fact, that is the real reason
why I haven’t told you before this. I was unsure about my condition
because I haven’t been sick in the mornings. But I went to see
Lesia today and told her my symptoms. She says it’s true: I will
have a child soon after Christmas.”

“I’ll send a messenger to Roger at once.”
Piers sat up, preparing to pull on his clothing. “I cannot leave
you now.”

“Don’t be silly.” Yolande caught at his arm
to stop him. “You have promised to meet Roger at Ascoli and you
will do so. Leave tomorrow, Piers, as you planned to do, and then
come back to me for Christmas and stay until our child is born.
Lesia warned me there will be a time toward the end when I will be
too large and ungainly for lovemaking. You may as well be in Ascoli
then.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” Relaxing back
onto the bed, Piers leaned on one elbow and put a hand on her
softly rounded belly, touching her with a sense of wonder verging
upon the reverent. “Our child lies here. Considering how well I
know your body, I should have noticed.”

“
Piers.”
She stroked his cheek and touched his lips with gentle fingers.
“Make love to me now. Love me all night long, so I can remember
your wonderful manliness while you are gone. Oh, Piers, after
tonight is over it will be so long before we can lie together
aga
in. I shall miss you.”

“But not yet,” he whispered. “I haven’t gone
yet.”

Still overcome by her news, he gathered her
close and put his mouth on hers. She opened her lips at once,
teasing him with her tongue until he surrendered to the passion
that flared so readily between them. When her hands touched his
manhood he took them away, raising them above her head and holding
them there.

“
No,” he
said, “don’t touch me. Later you may do to me whatever you want,
but this first time is for you. Keep your
hands here, where
I have put them.” He placed a kiss in the palm of each
hand, then began to kiss his way along the
inside of her arms. He had almost reached her armpits when she
cried out in protest.

“Piers, I want to put my arms around
you.”

“Stay as you are,” he ordered, “or I’ll be
forced to punish you.” He followed up this threat with a long,
tender kiss on her parted lips, silencing any further protest from
her. A short time later he reached her throat, her shoulders, her
breasts, raining kisses upon her flushed skin, with a bit of
tasting and licking to cool her rising fever. Writhing beneath his
hands, she begged again.

“Piers, please let me touch you.”

“Later,” he commanded, knowing that if she
was to lay one finger on him he would explode at once, for
everything he was doing to arouse her had its effect on him. He had
not half finished what he planned to do to her, and already he was
aching to find his release in her honeyed warmth. But on this night
above all others he wanted her to find a deep and complete
fulfillment. He drew his tongue down across her belly, circling her
navel, caressing her with both hands, fully conscious that beneath
her ivory skin their child rested. Somehow the knowledge made what
they were doing together even more beautiful and more sacred.

“How precious you are,” he whispered,
overcome by tenderness, knowing he spoke to mother and child
both.

As he moved lower in his continuing worship
of her body, her thighs fell apart. He pressed a kiss on each of
her rounded knees, then kissed his way along her inner thighs to
the tangle of dark curls that was the entrance to their personal
paradise. Gently he eased a finger into her.

“
Please,
please.” She thrust against his hand. Her eyes were closed, her
lips parted, her face intent on the pleasure now beginning to flood
every portion of her body. Piers experienced her pleasure as though
it was his own. Which it was.
It was.
His own body was so hard, so tight, so
incredibly hot. Never had he felt such searing desire. He knew he
could wait no longer; if he tried, he would only embarrass himself
and spoil Yolande’s release. Even as he realized this, Yolande went
rigid with the approach of her climax. Piers chose that moment to
thrust himself into her. Her eyes went wide at
the force of
his entry. It
was then, when he
was deep inside his wife’s body, with her warmth and her love
enveloping him and her arms at last encircling his shoulders, it
was then that Piers finally admitted what he now knew had been true
for months.

“
I
– love – you,” he groaned, the
saying of it almost physically painful for him. The second time was
easier. “Yolande, I love you.”

“Oh, Piers,” she gasped. “Oh, Piers.”

There was no time for either of them to say
more. At the moment when he felt his own release begin to overtake
him he was aware that she was melting and throbbing beneath him,
and then they were swept away together into a place of heat and
ecstasy beyond anything Piers had ever experienced before.

* * * *
*

“I do love you,” he said to her the next
morning. “I should have told you long before last night. You are my
heart and my life. If anything should happen to you, I would die,
too.”

“I will be careful. I will do everything the
midwife tells me to do.” She lay back against the pillows, watching
Piers yawn and stretch in preparation for rising. “Must you leave
so soon? Could we not make love just once more?”

“Even if there was time,” he said, smiling
down at her, “I doubt if I would have the strength for it. After
last night I am completely drained. You, dear wife, have a most
inventive imagination.” He stopped, recalling some of the things
she had done to him.

“Tis you who tired me,” she murmured,
snuggling into his arms. “I have never stopped hoping you would
learn to love me. Knowing you do made last night wonderful. You
were wonderful.” She let her hand stray downward, and to his own
surprise, Piers felt his flesh harden.

“There, you see,” she whispered. “It is
possible, after all. You only needed a little encouragement.”

“
Yolande
-” But her mouth was on his, stopping his cautious words, and Piers
could not resist the touch of her tongue against his, or the way
she leaned over him, letting her breas
ts rub
across his chest. And when she straddled
him and took him inside her he was as hot and eager for her as he
had been the first time they had made love the night before. Lying
beneath her, he watched her climax come upon her, softening her
lovely features, and he heard her wild cry. Then he rolled her over
and thrust hard into her, letting himself go, giving to her all the
hot, youthful passion of his manly soul.

“I love you,” he whispered over and over, the
words like a charm, like a refreshing breeze, like the breath of
life itself. “Oh, Yolande, I love you, love you, love you.”

*
* * * *