How to Marry Your Wife (7 page)

“Quiet.” Making suds in his hair, she made sure it dripped down his face and into his eyes.

He dunked under the water, rose, and pulled her into the barrel next to him. Laughing like the village idiot, he grabbed the soap and lathered her body while she tried to slap him away. His fingers found her ribs where he knew she was ticklish and she squealed. “Truce, truce, truce. I give. Oh, help. Stop.”

His thick pintle rubbed her belly. It would be so easy to wrap her legs around his waist and sink onto him.

Suddenly, a thousand memories clouded her vision; the ones that most oft times visited. Alone at night, in her bed, she wept inconsolably. That’s where this would end up again. A man like Thomas didn’t settle. He’d get her with child, an alternate should something happen to little Tom, and then he’d leave her.

He sensed her mood shift and his eyes penetrated. “I fear I don’t like this place that takes you so far away.”

“Neither do I, for I go to the past where I cry night after night for your return. It’s that and only that which I can’t bear again.” She lifted one leg out of the water, then the other. She’d have to be more careful or be condemned to a life alone in Scotland. What in all holy hell had come over her? No more bathing with him. That was a certainty.

His brows furrowed as they had over the last few days, but then released. With a half curl of a smile, he said, “I’ll not lose this battle and I won’t ever leave you. If it takes me from here to eternity to prove it, so be it.”

He stepped out into a pool of water that their playing had caused and winced at the shouting from below. “No doubt I’ll need send coin to the tavern. Quickly, towels, or they’ll storm our room.”

She found a small pile of gray linens and threw them upon the floor and the noise from below ceased. She couldn’t help but giggle, as mean-spirited as that was. Saying a brief prayer for forgiveness, she sat upon the pallet and moaned as a new blister broke open.

He grabbed his bag with the evil ointment and sat down beside her. “Where does it hurt?”

“It’s naught.” She tried to scoot away.

His hand wrapped around her waist and pulled their wet bodies close. “Saddle sores must be tended, especially so early in the journey. Let me look. ’Tis not for bedding. ’Tis for your well-being. Would you rather I call a physician to view your intimate areas?”

She sighed heavily. “There’s a new blister upon my arse, where I rested against you all day.”

He turned her naked body over, hissed, and found his knife among his belongings on the floor. “Don’t move.”

With a tiny prick, he opened it and pressed. “It’s small. Turn over and spread your legs so I can minister to the rest.”

Doing as told, she lifted her head. Thankfully, those areas were healing.

He grunted his approval, pushed her shoulders back down, and slathered the pungent grease over her inner thighs. Once, his hand grazed her intimate spot and she shuddered.

Widening her legs, she hoped he’d touch her again. She could manage sex without kissing and caring just this once. They could be together again. It’d be a shame to go through the rest of her life celibate.

Instead of holding her, which she expected after such intimacies, he dressed, turned on a heel, and grabbed her smelly clothes. Without another word, he exited the room and slammed the door behind.

God’s blood.
Men were such odd creatures. Hot and cold. On and off. How could one possibly track where their thoughts lie? Fine. Her bed was large and although rough on her skin, the sheets were clean. She didn’t remember falling asleep.

The delicious aroma of roasted meat and roots wafted into her nostrils when he shook her. Morning? No. Opening an eye to just candlelight, she lifted her head off the pallet. His dark eyes glistened as he stared at her naked breasts.

She blushed and wrapped the sheet around her. “You took my clothes.”

“Aye, they’re drying by the fire downstairs where my men sleep.”

“Where’d you go?” She sat up.

“I had to agree. The tavern food might kill a hound, so I found us a meal and cooked it.

“For me?”

“And for me. Think not so much upon it.” He moved the table over to the pallet and sat down beside her.

“Thank you.” She touched his leg and he shuddered. Did she still have that much affect upon him? Before she could think further, meat brushed against her lips and she opened her mouth. As he’d done the night he announced she was his so long ago, he fed her with his eyes held fast upon her face. She gazed back and her mind went blank. She smiled as the past and the present intertwined so sweetly it hurt. He leaned in and stopped with his lips just shy of her own.

She whispered, “It won’t be as easy as that.”

“It will.” His voice rasped and he slowly brought a morsel of roasted root to her lips.

She opened her mouth and moaned. So good.

Smiling, he fed himself a good mouthful and chewed while he stared into her eyes with dark lusty looks.

Thus it went, until the plate was empty and the tankard of mead gone. Her head was too heavy so she lay it back down. Her eyelids refused to stay open. Traveling was a chore that bested all others. The straw in the mattress rustled as he lay down beside her.

An arm reached over her waist and tucked her into his warm body. “I’ve dreamed of you here, for hundreds of nights.”

“And I of you, thusly wrapped around me.” She was too tired to lie.

“Kiss me and I will lavish your body with delight.”

“I fear too much.”

“That I’ll hurt you? You must know I wouldn’t.”

She breathed deep. “It’s not for my body I fear, it’s my soul. When you leave, you’ll take it with you and I’ll never ever survive that pain again.”

He sighed and kissed the tip of her ear. “Soon, you’ll believe me when I vow I’ll never leave you. Sleep tight.”

“I will.” She snuggled close, amazed at how much she needed to believe him.

Chapter 10

Jacob tapped a familiar code on his door, while the sun still slept deep within its chambers. Fumbling, Thomas unwrapped himself from around his wife, found a tunic, and felt along the wall on his way to the door.

By the light of Jacob’s small taper, they descended the narrow staircase and navigated between the endless pallets in the dining area. Still more men lay sleeping upon the ground outside. They made their way to the river’s edge by the light of a half-moon, who, like Jacob, refused to sleep.

The frogs started chirping, a clear indication that none followed, and Thomas sighed. “What news have you?”

Jacob’s bright eyes darted up and down the river. He motioned them deeper into a copse of trees. “I’m not sure, but something is amiss.”

“Come now, certainly you can do better than—”

“Do I have permission to speak my mind of your English king and his leaders, Sahib?” His words were barely audible over the night noises.

Thomas nodded.

“Word has spread that Annandale of Carlisle has let more than one English estate fall to the Scots while his son, Robert, fights in Wales with Edward.”

“That would make sense, as many knights were sent to aide Edward in the war.”

“That’s what Annandale would have you think, but the grumblings say more. After all are dead and not one heir left to claim the land, he nobly swoops in and takes it as his own for England. He’s especially fond of the smaller estates, like yours.”

An unbidden hiss escaped from within Thomas. “And Edward, no doubt, is full of gratitude. Damnation. The Steward of Carlisle should protect the northern borders, not plunder them. I’ll never be able to gather enough men to stand against him. You have my thanks. When we get to my estates, I’ll see to it you have a solid roof and a good wife.”

“I’ll gladly accept the roof, but if a wife makes your balls turn blue, I’ll pay for my want with an enthusiastic wench. Tell me, has she finally relented?”

Thomas cuffed him atop the head with a palm. “No, but she will. Her passion lies dormant, like a rose in winter. When she blooms, my balls will be well attended to, of that have no fear.”

With a quick grin, Jacob pointed up the river. “I’ll allow you to believe that tale while we make haste. The men are positioned along the banks for about a mile. I’ve sent word south to Sir Marcus. If what I hear is true, your life is in jeopardy.”

Thomas turned. Not even Jacob should sense his ire. He’d need tread carefully. Annandale was well-loved and none held more land in England other than the king. Any untoward acts would be seen as treason. This battle would be won with cunning, not with swords.

He pondered and picked a path over sleeping bodies in the inn’s front courtyard. The cocks crowed, pigeons cooed, and the first rays of the sun tinted the dark area in orange. On a rack beside the fire, he noted his wife’s still-damp clothes. Grabbing them, he bounded up the stairs and nodded at Harold-the-Younger, still guarding the door.

“Be off and join the men who are waiting to the north along the river’s edge. We’ll follow shortly.”

The young man gave a quick nod and disappeared down the hall.

Thomas smiled as he approached his sleeping wife. Her gold curls covered her face and he moved them aside to give her a kiss.

“Get dressed quickly.”

She jumped up and her eyes went wide. “What’s amiss?”

“Nothing for beautiful maids to worry about.” He patted her head.

Hell’s devils
. Her face grew red and her perfect little mouth pursed into a frown. He broke in before she could let loose. “I promise that I’ll explain better once we’re on the road. Look, your clothes are clean and almost dry.”

Her face softened and he let out a breath of air. In the future, he’d never use that phrase again. She rose and he studied every fine-looking curve while she donned her tunic and grabbed their few belongings. With a hand to the small of her back, he followed her closely out the door, stepping between the simple folk who still slept upon the ground.

“I should like to ride astride on my own mount, today. The innkeeper’s daughter learned of the state of my thighs and she gave me this.” She held up a plump pink pillow in the shape of a ‘U’.

He nodded. “Only if you promise to let me know if you become sore.”

“You’ll be the first to know, after me.” The smile she gave him nearly broke him asunder.

What if he lost his bet? What good was gold and land without Merry by his side? He couldn’t allow that to happen. Despite the danger, she’d have to stay at his side until she relented. They mounted and joined his men. Once they were well clear of the inn, he began a jaunty song.

My Merry, my merry wife.

Down derry, down derry down.

The fairest of fair, my life.

Down derry, down derry down.

She wed me, she wed me

But God’s blood won’t bed me.

Down derry, down down down.

She giggled. “All right, Thomas, I have warned you.

Sir Thomas, he stole my heart.

Down derry, down derry pie.

He left me and did depart.

Down derry, down derry pie.

He swears he won’t leave me

But I can’t believe he.

Down derry, cries my eyes.

The sun glistened on the dew of the newest of spring green leaves and more men joined them who waited along the river’s edge. A dark bearded knight, Arthur, put a lute on his lap and Jacob jumped in for the next verse.

Oh, madam, how cruel are you?

Down derry, down derry down.

Sir Thomas, his balls are blue.

Down derry, down derry down.

You wed him, you wed him,

Is more than time you bed him.

Down derry, down down down.

The men roared with laughter and Merry’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red, making her even more desirable. Harold-the-Younger managed to burst in with the next verse. He’d best do it well if he ever wanted to be accepted as a knight. A brave lad.

A lady must disagree.

Down derry, down derry down.

And force a man upon his knees.

Down derry, down derry down.

But under her ire

Lights a mighty fire.

Down derry, down down down.

“Well said. Well said. Here, here, here.” Thomas joined the men as they lifted their shields and banged upon them.

The lad leaned over on his mount, picked a wild nosegay by the side of the road, and handed it to her. Not to be outdone by a squire, one by one, the others did the same.

Astonishing.

He’d never known any of them to possess a gentler nature. She stuck each colorful sprig into a braid in her hair, until she turned into a bright forest nymph.

The verses went on for miles, until they were all hoarse and out of rhymes. By the time Thomas slowed the tempo of the last verse, the sun was warm and high in the sky.

King Edward gave his commands.

Down derry, down derry down.

So off I went to foreign lands.

Down derry, down derry down.

I love thee, I beg thee,

Forgive me, dear Merry.

Down derry, down down down.

They stopped at a clearing, dismounted for lunch, and ate of the bread and cheese packed by the innkeeper’s wife. Their skins were full of a stout, but sweet, mead of which they drank heartily.

“Walk with me for a moment before we must be off again.” Thomas grabbed Merry’s hand and took her into a nearby field where sheep bleated. A hound barked and nipped at hooves, moving the herd to the far side of the open area.

“I’m waiting for you to tell me why we left in such a hurry and why even now your eyes dart about so.” She cupped her hands around his cheeks, forcing an honest gaze.

He grimaced and looked aside. “I was rather hoping you’d forget.”

“Haven’t you noticed? I never do. Not one thing.” A soft palm turned his head toward her and she raised perfectly arched brows. Hazel eyes that reflected the blue of the sky penetrated his.

His body responded to her loveliness, rushing blood to his pintle. He shuffled to get more comfortable. “I had noticed. An odd gift.”

From where they’d stopped, Jacob whistled and pointed to Harold-the-Elder, who stood close with sword drawn. Thomas waved back in thanks, put his hand to her back, and moved them closer to camp.

She frowned. “So tell me, what’s happened to make everyone so tense?”

“There were rumors at the inn that there’s more to the capture of my father’s estates than just a few rogue Scots.”

They paused as the hound barked repeatedly, maneuvering a wayward lamb back into the group.

Pursing her lips deep in thought, she said, “Annandale of Carlisle?”

“What do you know of him?” He scowled at the mention of his enemy. Was she an admirer?

“Sir Marcus has oft times invited his son, Robert, to The Meadows and a woman has ears. We’re actually allowed to converse, too.” Her eyes sparked fire.

He couldn’t help but kiss the tip of her pert nose. “Don’t get your hackles up. I know there’s a keen mind behind those beautiful eyes, but have patience. I’m set in my ways. Where I’ve traveled, ladies are protected and revered. They’re put in harems and in fancy bedrooms and guarded where no man other than a husband may go. Even in Paris, well-bred ladies don’t speak of politics. Gentle arts of sewing, cooking, and keeping the hearth are for the fairer sex.”

He raised a hand when she began to interrupt. “Hold, don’t speak yet. However, I see how Ann and Marcus have melded together like two strong metals of the finest quality. I crave that for us, too. Don’t you?”

Her lips moved from a frown to a pensive pout. Had he said the right thing at last? If so, no doubt a chorus of angels in heaven were singing hallelujahs. She toed the ground, then her lovely eyes reached his.

One sweet hand went to his cheek and brushed a lock off his forehead. “I still remember what it’s like to mourn the loss of someone who means more to me than the light of the sun or breath that’s taken.”

“You can’t forget just that one small thing?” He tickled under her arm, a spot where he knew she’d giggle.

She slapped his hand away with a half-grin. “Unfortunately, I forget naught. But if I better understand you, mayhap we can move forward peaceably. When I’m free, I promise I’ll come and visit you often.”

“We must get back on the road,” he said a bit too gruffly. There was no way under the stars above he’d ever allow her to leave him.

When they were mounted once again, she tried to maneuver close enough to speak, but fell back to single file when an open cart filled with cages of carrier pigeons passed in the opposite direction. Cart after cart followed. An hour or more passed before they could resume their conversation.

She finally came alongside. “Are we close to that, that Hadrian wall?”

He snorted. “That’s the Witham River and we just passed the castle at Bytham. We’ll arrive in Lincolnshire by tomorrow or next, depending on the weather.”

“So, how much longer before we get to your keep?” A group of minstrels with wagons and song captured the whole of the narrow road. She sighed and moved behind him yet again.

He chuckled and turned his head around. “We’ve barely begun our journey.”

“Haven’t you any allies where we can stay in a real keep for just one night?” She had to shout over the tambourines and horns.

He waited for the garish troop to pass before trying to speak again. “I’ve been back in England less than a whole turn of the moon. I’ve no idea who’s allied with Annandale. It’s best we continue to appear as a worthless group of knights for hire.”

“And what does that make me?”

The sun came out from under a cloud and bathed her in light and he slowed to her side. Dear God, he wanted her. “It’s not uncommon for a free knight to take a wife. No one’ll pay us any mind. It’s the caravan behind, headed by Marcus and his men, that will draw more attention. Thieves will crave what he carries.”

She gasped. “But what about Tom and Marc?”

“Do you think anyone would dare cross The Beast of Thornhill?” He raised an eyebrow and she reddened at his tone.

When she shook her head, a few flower petals fell to the ground. “No. No. It’s just, I’ve never been parted from my son before. It’s as if losing an arm. I miss him fiercely. Is there no way you can send me to him? I promise to return straight away.”

“They ride perhaps two days behind and it’d take you several days of hard riding to catch up. We both know you’re not a skilled enough rider for that.” Her sad face made him wonder for the first time if he’d done the right thing by keeping her at his side.

He had to give credit where it was due. She didn’t give in easily. “Mayhap I can wait in Lincolnshire and ride with Marcus to the wall? You and your men ride ahead? I promise to give you time to woo me once we’re all together at your keep. What say you? You ask that I trust you. Will you not do the same for me?”