RulingPassion (7 page)

He squeezed her hand a little. “More than anything else,
though, I see someone who has made a man I love as a brother happier than he
has ever been in his life. For that I owe you much.”

“You owe me naught for that,” she answered. “My time with my
lord has provided its own rewards. I only wish…”

He waited for her to finish the thought, but when she did
not, he ventured his own conclusion. “That it could be more lasting?”

“It’s selfish of me, I know,” she admitted. “I understand
why he must have a wife who can bring lands or fortune to him. Yet a part of me
yearns to be his in every possible way for always.” She drew a deep breath. “I
think a part of me always will belong to him.”

“In so short a time you’ve formed so deep an attachment?”

“You know Lord Jeoffrey. Can you not believe it?”

“I know him, but I was not as sure of you.” Sir Philip
stood. She expected him to go away, but instead he offered her a hand and said,
“Walk with me a bit. There are things you should know that Jeoffrey will never
tell you. Perhaps when you understand, we can even… But, no, that is not for
now.”

Rosalind allowed Sir Philip to guide her around the stone
paths limning the wildest part of the garden.

“I met Jeoffrey when we both came to Sir Roger Hartman’s
manor to serve as squires,” Sir Philip said. “We were maybe ten, eleven, at the
time. When we finally won our titles, my entire family came to see me dubbed.
No one came for him. His father sent some excuse; I remember not what it was.
Jeoff was not surprised. He had not expected anyone to come. He never expected
anything from anyone that I can recall save from himself. Of himself he
expected and demanded perfection. He asked for it from others, too, and by the
force of his will or personality, he often obtained what he requested, save for
what he wanted most from his father.”

Sir Philip stopped a moment and they looked out toward a
nearby stream. “Jeoffrey grew up here, but it was not an easy thing for him.
His father held him responsible for his mother’s death and never forgave him
for it, never let him forget it. He demanded perfection from him, and was
fearfully hard on him when he failed. And what lively, spirited boy does not…test
the limits at times?”

“I can imagine you both did your fair share of…testing,”
Rosalind commented.

Sir Philip just grinned. “Aye, that we did. Yet, except
where his son was concerned, Jeoffrey’s father was a fair and just man, much as
his son is. Jeoffrey learned the lesson well, but he never felt himself worthy
to follow where his father had gone. He could never meet his father’s
expectations of him.” The knight became visibly angry on the next words. “No
man could have. Yet I have never been able to make Jeoffrey see that.”

He sighed. “Jeoffrey almost never speaks of this, mind you.
I learned most of it one night when we made our way to a nearby tavern and
tested our manhood against the local ale for the first time. The ale, of
course, had the last word. We both nursed sore heads and aching bellies the
next day. But that night, while deep in our cups, Jeoff finally talked about
his childhood and his father’s expectations for his only son, and how he could
never measure up to them.”

“That does help explain some things about him. How long has
he been lord here?” Rosalind asked.

“Three years some. We were both twenty-two at the time,
becoming bored, and we planned to join with the king’s army heading for the
continent, but just before we were to leave, Jeoff got word of his father’s
death. He asked me to come with him here. Sir William had just taken Morton’s
Hill, his first manor, and we all knew he would not stop there. Jeoff feared
there would not be enough fighting men to protect Blaisdell should Sir William
set his sights on it. Fortunately, Sir William’s sights have been trained
mostly on the east, sparing us, so far.”

“Not so fortunate for my family.”

He groaned a little and dipped his head. “My pardon, lady.
I’d forgotten. What was fortunate for us meant devastation for your family.”

“‘Tis done now and cannot be undone.”

“Yet the effects of many deeds linger, as did the old Lord
Orland’s treatment of his son.” A breeze played around them, and Philip reached
up to push dark hair out of his eyes. “I believe Jeoffrey is sterner and harder
on himself and his people than he needs to be, but that is not my judgment to
make. I wish he could be more…”

“Merciful?”

“Nay, he shows mercy enough where ‘tis called for. More at
ease with himself and others. More able to relax. Less completely bound by duty
to everyone else but himself.” He turned to face her again. “Which is why I am
grateful to you. For the first time I begin to see signs that it could be so.”

“Yet, in fact, what he sees as his duty ensures we will not
be together long.”

A muscle flexed in Philip’s cheek as he stared over at the
stream again. “Perhaps we might change what he feels duty demands of him.”

Rosalind wanted to deny the stirring of hope the words
roused, but found she couldn’t. “Think you there is a way?”

“Perhaps. Jeoff has it in him to be a great leader.
Alliances need not be made solely from marriage. If he were willing to do so,
he might find other sorts could serve him just as well.”

“I know not that I understand you,” Rosalind admitted.

His grin was modest, self-deprecating and a bit wry.
“Perhaps I do not understand completely myself. The thought needs more
development. But I believe the right path is along that way.”

“May I say I hope very much you are right?” Rosalind turned
to look to the west where the sun rode low over the treetops. “But now I
believe duty calls me back inside. My lord will return soon and he enjoined me
have a bath prepared for him.”

Sir Philip nodded but caught her hand again. “By all means
go and make sure there is a gracious plenty of hot water prepared. He is
almighty partial to soaking in water that would singe the skin from your toes.”
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back gently. “My lady, if you
need anything, even just a sympathetic ear, please feel free to call on me.”

Rosalind had just time enough to get the bath organized
before the servant came to tell her the master approached and would be within
the gates in minutes. By the time he entered their quarters, the bath awaited
him with ample hot water, fragrant soap and a Turkish towel at the ready.

Jeoffrey’s clothes were rumpled and mud-spattered. His hair
had come loose from the leather thong and strands waved limply around his face.
His shoulders and eyelids both sagged. He looked so tired he could barely hold
himself upright. She led him to the chair across the room, pushed him down onto
it, kissed him, and then went to drag his boots off. He didn’t say anything as
she continued with his tunic and shirt, stripping him layer by layer, but he
watched her the entire time and cooperated when she asked him to move this way
or that. Finally she had him stand and she dragged off his breeches before she
led him to the tub. She poured in the last few buckets of water to make sure it
was hot enough for him, and then helped him climb in.

He settled into it with a long, deep sigh. “Would you ring
for someone to bring me a bit of bread and cheese?” he asked. “I’ve had little
to eat since I set out this morning.”

“Did no one feed you on your visits?”

“Several offered.” He slid further down into the water until
only his head was above it. “But I could tell all were low on provisions, so I
ate no more than a morsel or two at each place.”

Rosalind answered the knock on the door that followed soon
after and conveyed Lord Jeoffrey’s wishes to the housemaid. She dragged a stool
over to the side of the tub. Sitting on it, she could comfortably reach him
with the scrubbing rag she picked up. Trying not to disturb him, she began to
wash the stresses of the day off his body.

Strange, she mused, how satisfying it was to care for him in
this way. While running the soap-doused cloth over his chest and arms, she
indulged a surprising possessiveness about the man. It might not always be so,
but at that moment, he was wholly hers, and she treasured him. Treasured every
last inch of him. Even the rather large feet and nicely formed toes, the sharp
elbows, rough knees, and big ears. Fortunately he kept his eyes closed while
she washed him, so he didn’t see the emotion that must have been plain to read on
her face.

She lavished special attention on his feet, washing them
with care, working the cloth in and out around his toes. She concentrated on
the job so closely she didn’t noticed when he opened his eyes. A few minutes
later she looked up and found him studying her. His expression told her more
clearly than words how much he appreciated her care for him.

He moved to sit up straighter and reach for her.

“Nay, my lord,” she ordered, putting a firm hand on his
chest to push him back down. “Rest.”

She ran the cloth up his legs, moving around to the side of
the tub once she got beyond his knees. He sucked in a sharp, hard breath as the
wash rag traveled up his thigh. Staring down through the water, she could
clearly see his cock enlarging. He groaned when she washed around his balls,
caressing them gently, and began to pant as she scrubbed carefully along the
swollen flesh of his shaft.

He seemed to enjoy the rasp of the cloth along his cock. It
began to throb in her hand. She wrapped her fingers around him and pumped up
and down, getting harder and faster, keeping time with the beat of his pulse in
the hard length. She felt the pressure mounting, his body growing tenser. He
muttered and groaned as his breath came in short gasps. Then he gave a short
yell and his seed spurted out into the water.

For a moment he just watched her, his form still tight and
tense. Then he settled bonelessly back against the side of the tub, face washed
clean of the dirt and stresses of the day. He looked relaxed, peaceful, happy.
She moved around to his head and began to wet his hair, running her fingers
through the strands.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the food, along
with the jug of wine she’d added to the order. Rosalind went to the door,
brought the tray to the tub, and while he rested, she fed him bits of cheese
and bread. She poured a cup of wine for him. He drank while she washed his
hair, gently rubbing the soap into it, massaging his scalp and rinsing it
afterward, careful that none of the sudsy water ran into his eyes.

By the time he was ready to emerge and dress, life had
returned to his features and vigor to his limbs. With just the towel swaddling
his middle, he dragged her up against his hard body and kissed her so
thoroughly her head reeled with delight. Finally he let her go again with a
hard, gusty sigh.

“I would do more now, but should I start, I would not want
to quit and we are expected for dinner shortly. You’ve yet to dress for it. And
your hair needs some putting back in order. I have something I must see to now,
but I shall have your company at table and in bed tonight.” His expression
promised good things to come.

He started to leave, but then, as though drawn irresistibly,
he returned and kissed her yet again, though briefly this time.

Dinner took far too long. Though she normally delighted in
the evening entertainments, Rosalind wondered if the food, the stories, the
laughter, and the music would ever end.

When finally the meal concluded, she hurried back to their
quarters. The fire burned high in the grate, warming the room. The tub had been
emptied, but the buckets sitting near the fire were full again and the water
was warm. Did Jeoffrey plan to take another bath?

He was another few minutes, but when he entered the room and
his eyes met hers, a wicked grin broke across his face. He kissed her, long and
hard, then broke away and went to the fire, where he began to dump the buckets
of water in the tub.

“Mean you to take another bath, my lord?” she asked.

“Jeoffrey,” he reminded her. “Nay, I mean to bathe another,
Rosalind. I shall have revenge for the liberties taken with my body earlier.”

She took a moment to puzzle it out, but by the time she
understood, he’d already come to her side and begun to undo the tapes fastening
her houppeland over the shift. He slid the gown off her shoulders, letting it
drop onto the floor. She watched his eyes as he undressed her, bewitched by the
glints of humor and love lurking in their depths. Once he’d helped her out of
her shoes and removed the last of her clothing, he slid an arm below her
shoulders, another under her knees, and lifted her off the floor.

He carried her to the tub and lowered her gently into it.
After giving her a moment to adjust to the water and relax into it, he brought
a cake of perfumed soap and a wash cloth to the tub. He washed her hair first,
carefully leaning her head back to wet the strands, working soap through them
and massaging it onto her hair. It felt wonderful to have his fingers scrubbing
through the strands and kneading her scalp.

Then he began to wash her body, just as she’d done for him
earlier, starting with her hands, moving up her arms and lingering for a while
on her breasts. The rasp of the cloth across her nipples sent streaks of fire
through her body.

He leaned down to press his mouth to hers and his tongue
began to explore her lips. She moaned and wriggled when he invaded her mouth
and brushed over the insides, touching his tongue to hers. When she was gasping
and trying to pull him to her, he backed away and returned to washing her.

He moved around to her feet and began bathing them. After
scrubbing each one individually with the cloth, he lifted her foot and gently
kissed each toe, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. The heat and suction
were delightful, but then he brushed his tongue around one and it went through
her like a bolt of lightning. She’d never guessed that part of her body could
be so sensitive.