The Dragon and the Jewel (6 page)

“So we all thought until each of us took her on, followed the well-worn path to her bed, and came away almost emasculated,” Toby confided.

“Even Richard couldn’t give her release; he admits it quite frankly,” said Richard’s squire. “He had us heels in the air with laughter when he told us of the king’s dilemma when she tempted him one evening. Poor Henry couldn’t walk for two days, and it was a month before he had an erection again.”

De Burgh was one step ahead of his companions. “A wager,” he proposed. “Five gold crowns for both of you if she isn’t replete and sated by morning. She’ll be the one who won’t be able to walk.”

They took the bet knowing it was the easiest money they’d
ever make. Mick de Burgh slackened the pace of his destrier until the ladies’ maids rode up beside him, then he bestowed a speculative smile upon Brenda.

“You are Rick de Burgh,” she said huskily, mentally measuring the bulging muscles of his thighs.

“Mick,” he corrected, caressing her breasts with his eyes.

“I don’t suppose you could bribe the castellan of Odiham to let me have a chamber of my own, do you, Mick?” she asked, her eyes sliding all over him.

“That very thought was uppermost in my mind, sweetheart,” he assured her.

William heard the high spirits of his young knights who were only half his age and for the first time in his life he envied them.

The twenty miles from Windsor were soon swallowed up by the travelers, and in less than two hours the pretty turrets of Odiham manor house came into view. It was surrounded by apple orchards whose trees were just budding into blossom. William knew immediately that Eleanor was entranced by it. Her deep-blue eyes sparkled when she was happy and excited, and he wished in that moment he could make them sparkle like that for the rest of her life.

All was in readiness when the master arrived. The housekeeper had set the maids to cleaning and polishing from dawn ’til dusk as soon as young Rickard de Burgh had brought the marshal’s message. The steward had brought up the best wines from the cellars and selected two barrels of ale from the small brewhouse. The grooms cleaned the stables and spread fresh straw and hay for the horses. Since there was little for Rickard de Burgh and his men to do save polish their armor and sharpen their weapons, they had gone hunting.

The venison turned on spits alongside lambs and the aroma of roasting pheasant floated across Odiham’s flagstoned courtyard to whet all appetites. Before the steward had assigned rooms to all the illustrious visitors, he was richer by several pieces of gold. Not only had Rickard de Burgh’s twin brother bribed him to give a saucy maid a small, private tower room that opened onto the parapets, but the king’s brother, Richard of Cornwall, had made it worth his while to plenish a large chamber apart from the other females for Lady Isabella Marshal.
The steward shook his head at the irony of it. The master and mistress who were legally wed were accommodated in separate chambers.

The household servants of Odiham were well trained. Cool drinks were the first order of business for the dusty travelers, and hot bath water was the next. Mick de Burgh took himself off to the knights’ quarters to look for his brother. He thumped Odiham’s new captain of the guard with a massive fist and teased, “By the Blood of God, you’ve got a soft touch here.”

Rickard grinned. “Nothing to do save hunt and dice.”

Mick grinned back. “I’m glad you’re well rested, little brother; have I got a wench for us!”

Eleanor had five maids eager to do her bidding. One tended her bath, another brushed her hair, a third unpacked her clothes and hung them in the woodruff-scented wardrobe. A fourth brought her a luncheon tray with tempting hot meat pasties and a silver dish of early strawberries and cream. They were all dressed alike in gray uniforms with crisp white aprons and lace caps.

They whispered with delight over the countess’s beautiful gowns and undergarments. Eleanor had exquisite taste in clothes and knew exactly the vivid shades to wear to enhance her dark beauty. After her bath she chose a peach-colored afternoon dress and tied a matching satin ribbon around her curls in an effort to keep them in order.

William knocked on her chamber door and the maids ushered him in with giggles, then quickly left in a flurry of curtsies claiming pressing duties elsewhere. He raised her fingers to his mouth and brushed his lips across them. “You are so unearthly fair, it takes my breath away,” he murmured.

She dimpled, longing for him to put his strong arms about her.

“Come, I’ll give you a tour of the manor; it’s bigger than it first appears.” He retained her hand in his and Eleanor was content. The outbuildings, though small and compact, were numerous. There was a brewhouse, a dairy stillroom, a laundry, a smithy and weapons room, even a small chapel.

William showed her the neat rows of herbs in the kitchen
garden, then led her through the formal rose garden and out into the orchards where little round hives housed the honeybees that pollinated the apple blossoms. She followed his finger as he pointed up to the crenellated roof and guard towers. He showed her the dog kennel where the hounds were kept penned and even took her to a loft above the stables where the hunting birds were housed. “Well, what do you think of it?” he asked seriously, watching her very closely for her reaction.

“I love it. Odiham is quite perfect, I think.” She knew that anywhere on earth would be perfect if only William was there with her.

“Come up on the parapets and I’ll show you the view,” he invited. Once there he stood behind her, lightly resting a strong brown hand on her shoulder. With his other arm he pointed out the various landmarks close by, then he made a wide arc. “Directly to the south is the sea. You can smell the tidewrack if you breathe deeply, and over to the west is Salisbury Plain … there where it’s so flat, and beyond is Stonehenge.”

“How fascinating. I’ve learned all about it.” She looked up at him over her shoulder. “Will you take me to see it sometime?”

He drew her back against him and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I would like to take you everywhere and show you everything …” His voice trailed off.

Eleanor finished the thought for him. “But you do not have time. Your duties as Marshal of England leave you no time for life’s pleasures. I wish it were otherwise, my lord. I wish we could fly away where no one could find us … where we could be completely alone and I didn’t have to share you with anyone else.”

Her impassioned words flattered him beyond measure. From behind he enfolded her in his arms and said against her cheek, “We have this day.”

Eleanor would have liked to stay clasped to him forever, but he released her almost instantly and led her downstairs to the great hall. He dispatched a page to summon the entire household, and within minutes the hall filled to capacity.

“Are all your servants in all your manors and castles this well trained, my lord?”

“Oh, this place doesn’t belong to me,” he told her solemnly.
Her mouth formed an O of surprise, then he whispered, “It belongs to you.” He raised his voice then, so that the scores of Odiham servants assembled could hear him. “I want to introduce you to the Countess of Pembroke. We will all celebrate tonight because Odiham now belongs to her. I ask that you serve her as faithfully as you have served me.”

A great cheer filled the hall and Eleanor graciously acknowledged their good wishes and their homage. Tears gathered on her dark lashes and William squeezed her hand, hoping he had pleased her. She smiled her thanks to him, but inside she was crying,
William, I don’t
want your presents, I want you!

The evening meal in the great hall was nothing less than a banquet. The entire household was invited to the celebration. Even the scullery maids and stableboys drank toasts to the Marshal of England and the king’s sister and brother. Odiham had never seen the like. Anyone with a talent for music was encouraged to play for the merry company, then everyone began to sing. Richard’s deep voice rang out.

William persuaded Eleanor that a cup of wine would not be amiss, and soon the laughter almost raised the rafters. After her second cup she seemed to see everyone about her in a different light. Her brother was enjoying himself immensely, yet she could tell he had an air of suppressed intensity about him. His eyes were fever bright with excitement over something—some knowledge or secret. Whatever it was he was hugging it to himself, savoring it. Her eyes were drawn to the knights, who were laughing and teasing the maids. There was Brenda gazing at Mick de Burgh with a look of raw hunger. She could certainly understand her attraction to the handsome Irish knight, but why in heavens name didn’t the girl eat something if she was that ravenous?

Suddenly she looked at William’s sister. Isabella was the only one of that whole company who was not laughing. She was preoccupied, biting her lips, worried to death about something. Perhaps she didn’t approve of William giving away Marshal
holdings. Perhaps she didn’t want William to take his wife away from Windsor to live with him. Something was wrong. Isabella’s food sat untouched. Of course, she misses her husband, Eleanor thought. He’s only returned from Ireland once in over a year.

When the trestle tables were cleared everyone stretched his legs, and the company mingled happily as servants rubbed shoulders with royalty as if they did it every day of their lives.

Eleanor dismissed everyone from her mind but William. She watched him with loving eyes as the cook proudly introduced him to her son, and the steward’s wife made her curtsy to him. He was such a fine man. He took a genuine interest in his people. He was deep in a serious conversation with his steward when he glanced up and caught her eyes on him. He immediately drew her to his side. “Eleanor, your steward has just been telling me of a dispute between one of your tenant farmers and a stockman. You will sit with me tomorrow while we hold a court. I’m sure there are many disputes that must be settled. I’ll show you how it’s done so that in the future you can sit in judgment yourself.”

He was not treating her as a child, he was treating her as an equal. Her hopes soared.

Isabella approached, nervously twisting a kerchief in her fingers. She seemed determined to attach herself to Eleanor, as if she was afraid to be alone. After quarter of an hour passed she said, “William, I think I should see that Eleanor gets to bed. The hour grows late.”

William looked bemused. “Go away, Isabella, Eleanor and I are just getting to know each other. I’m sure I can see that she gets to bed. Bestow your prim, disapproving glances upon Richard, he seems in a reckless mood tonight.” William took Eleanor’s hand and they left the hall together.

The steward’s wife said, “He’s besotted with her. I think it was a mistake to give them separate apartments.”

“Don’t worry, the chambers I assigned adjoin each other, just in case his bed is cold to him,” the steward assured her, winking.

“Trust a man to think of that.” She slapped his hand away from her bum cheek, but only playfully.

♥ Uploaded by Coral ♥

W
hen the Earl of Pembroke entered his chambers with the countess on his arm, his squire Sir Walter had just lit a small fire to take the night’s chill from his lord’s rooms.

“Oh, a fire … how lovely! If I could choose, I should always have a fire in my chamber.”

“But you can choose,” William said, bemused. “Walter, build a fire in my lady’s chamber, then take yourself downstairs. The wine flows freely and the company is merry.”

When they were alone William drew a chair to the fire for her. “Let’s be comfortable. Do you think you could handle a little more wine?”

“Allow me to serve you, my lord. It would give me the greatest pleasure.”

He stretched his long legs to the fire and his eyes followed her every move. He had seen her in three different outfits today, and each presented a different Eleanor to him. The black-and-white riding clothes had been striking, but at the same time had been cut to allow ease in mounting and dismounting. Her elegant black riding boots reached all the way to her knees beneath her skirts, showing him she was both practical and modest. This afternoon when she had stood in the orchard in that
peach-colored creation he had thought her the prettiest girl in the world, and now as she came forward with the wine, the firelight caught the sheen of her dark velvet gown, which matched the glowing liquid in the crystal goblets. The sophisticated headdress with its fluttering veils and pearls made her look much older tonight, and William dared to hope that in another year perhaps she would be ready.

“If we are to be comfortable, I’ll remove this,” she said, taking off the headdress. “I hate wimples.” Her black hair came tumbling down to her waist in a silken mass and William’s mouth went dry. She looked so much younger now, but God help him, so much more desirable. She seemed totally at ease with him, talking with great animation, gesturing dramatically with her pretty hands.

He stared at her in fascination. How could a woman’s waist be that tiny, emphasizing the delicious curves both below and above? All his attention was concentrated upon watching her. He had only the vaguest idea of the words they exchanged.

She sat by the fire, leaning toward him eagerly. “Please describe it to me. My tutors are wonderful, but no matter how I beg they won’t teach me battle tactics.”

William blinked and tried to gather his wits. How in the world had they gotten into this conversation? His eyes fell on the chess pieces set out on a small game table. He set the table between them. “Do you play?”

She nodded eagerly, realizing he intended to use the game of chess to teach her the strategies of planning a battle. William warmed to his subject as she quickly grasped the nuances and subtleties of the game of war. It was two hours before he realized it was past midnight. He sent her to bed. She left with lagging steps, wishing they could have sat up and talked all night.

Eleanor was convinced that William was ready to let her come to live with him as his wife. She felt elated, nowhere near ready for sleep, then suddenly she remembered poor Isabella’s haunted look and she felt quite selfish. Decisively she opened her chamber door and made her way to the west wing where Isabella’s chamber was situated. At the door she hesitated, concerned lest Isabella was sleeping, then she heard her moan. The
manor doors were not the impregnable studded portals that Windsor Castle boasted, and again she heard Isabella gasp and moan. She lifted her candle and turned the knob, when clearly her brother’s voice came from within. “I have no intention of leaving. We are going to share a bed. I want to hold you in my arms all night, darling. Damn it, I love you!”

Then she heard another low moan and Isabella’s yearning voice said, “I love you too, Richard. Lock the door.”

Eleanor was so surprised she almost dropped her candle. She hurried back to her chamber and slowly undressed. She was not displeased that two of the people she loved most felt deeply about each other. She understood Richard’s passion. Plantagenets felt passionately about all things. They let nothing stand in the way of what they wanted. Suddenly being alone was too painful to bear. How ridiculous it was to have left William when more than anything on earth she wanted to be with him. Well, that was soon mended, she decided, slipping a white velvet bedgown over her nightrail. He was only in the next chamber.

On the battlements the de Burgh brothers spoke low. “You can go first,” said Sir Rickard, “but remember when we change places, I am on guard tonight.” He grinned and thumped his brother’s shoulder with a mighty blow. “Save some of your strength so you don’t fall asleep out here.”

Sir Michael jabbed him in the ribs. “I’ve never fallen asleep on the job yet,” he said lewdly. The tower door was opened before he finished knocking. He noticed with amusement that the copper-haired wench was already naked. There would be no games of playful reluctance, no need to coax her to a giving mood. Mick reached out and pulled her into his arms. Her impatient hands were on his chausses, aiding him in the swift removal of his clothes. Never in his life had he dallied with a wench who needed it so badly. While he was still shrugging from his doublet her arms went about his neck and she lifted herself onto his upthrusting erection. Her gyrations began immediately, and he realized they’d never make it to the narrow bed. He took firm hold of her buttocks, planted his legs securely to the floor, and moved her up and down on his engorged
weapon. Soon she was doing most of the work. He didn’t even need to support her. She impaled herself upon him over and over.

Brenda grunted and groaned but not with pleasure. It was a wild, animalistic mating. A young man as lusty as de Burgh could not fail to respond to the raw sexuality of the female coupling with him. He felt his seed start, tried to hold out longer but couldn’t. As a result it spurted up inside of her in hot bursts … half a dozen before he was completely finished.

“Mick … please … again,” she begged.

He knew she had not reached her peak and hadn’t expected her to this first time. “Yes … again … hush now,” he soothed, lifting her and carrying her to the bed. The moment he was horizontal she was astride his thighs. Quick as a flash of mercury her tongue came out to lick the pearl drops of semen that still clung to him. His shaft suddenly awoke again and filled rapidly. He murmured thickly, “Perhaps if we take it slow this time …”

“No, no, Mick, please. I have to have it fast … hard and fast … please … hard and fast.”

The wench was almost incoherent in her need. From his experience a girl who could not reach her climax needed stimulation and play. He reached down a strong hand between her legs and slipped two fingers inside her, then encircled her hard little bud with the ball of his thumb. She screamed and writhed, mad with need. She built and built but nothing took her over the edge.

The stimulation was working on Mick much more rapidly. He was hard as marble. Pulling her beneath him, he mounted her with a savage thrust, while schooling himself to make it last this time. He thrust to the hilt, then withdrew all the way, each time stretching her further.

“Mick, fuck me faster, please,” she begged.

With a grimace he obeyed her command. The friction he built up with such fast and furious gyrations soon had its inevitable effect on him, and he exploded into her like a volcano spewing liquid fire. All his body’s tension melted away, leaving him limp and sated.

Brenda cried out her disappointment as he rolled off her. She
came over him again, mounted his thick thigh, and ground her pubis over the hard, bulging saddle muscle. Christ, the wench really was insatiable. She only knew one word: “again.” It echoed through his brain, accusing him of failure. He pushed her off his leg and reached for his chausses. “I need some air,” he mumbled.

She sat in the middle of the bed, bereft. “You won’t come back,” she cried.

“Oh, I’ll return,” he said with grim determination. Mick emerged from the tower room and drew fresh cold air into his lungs in great gulps.

“That good, eh?” remarked Rickard. “Christ, I thought you were never corning out. I’m so hard I could crack walnuts with it.” He took off his chain-mail shirt and slipped it over his brother’s head. Then he handed him his sword. When Rickard opened the tower door, he fully expected to find the girl asleep, exhausted from his brother’s demands. He was delighted when the naked wench flew into his arms and her hand reached down, testing his readiness.

“Oh, Mick, thank you,” she sobbed.

“Rick, sweetheart,” he corrected, taking her luscious breast into his mouth and sucking hard on the nipple.

Dimly she remembered he had corrected her about his name before. “Oh, God, your name should be Dick, you’re so big,” she cried thankfully. She unfastened his chausses and slid down with them.

Rickard could feel her hot breath stirring his pubic hair. Her avid hands slid up the back of his legs. “I want it on the floor,” she said with a gasp.

“Christ, so do I,” he agreed, sinking down and lifting her widespread legs onto his shoulders. In a kneeling position he held her hips immobile in a viselike grip and pumped and bucked into her. Her cries of “harder” and “faster” brought him to a powerful climax, but she clamped the walls of her scalding sheath about him to keep him prisoner inside of her. “Rick, please, please, don’t withdraw,” she begged.

“My pleasure, sweetheart,” he assured her, already semiaroused again because of the girl’s insatiable desire for him. Still inside her, he lifted her with him until he was on his
feet. Then as he supported her bottom with his hands, she wrapped her legs about his waist and thrust her tongue deeply into his mouth. He walked across the room bouncing her up and down on his cock until she was sobbing with frustration and raking his back with her nails.

“I don’t want to be teased, I want to be fucked!”

Rick stretched her out on the bed, towered above her, then drove himself to the hilt. His strokes were deep, lightning fast and savage. She arched her pelvis to meet every one of them, and Rick could not prevent his ejaculation. Though she again tried to hold him, this time it was impossible. He was too flaccid and she far too slippery. “I’m on guard duty tonight,” Rickard said hoarsely. “I must go and make the rounds again.”

“Promise me you’ll come back,” she pressed him urgently.

So far he had failed in his mission; there was no way he would quit the field. “I promise,” he swore.

The brothers stood shoulder to shoulder on the ramparts of Odiham. “This is no longer pleasure, it’s damned hard work. She’s like a bitch in heat, writhing on the floor.”

“Our reputations are at stake. What the hell are we going to do?” Rickard asked.

Mick squared his shoulders. “Double our efforts, ’tis a point of honor.” As he reentered the small tower room, the musky scent of mingled male and female carnality assailed his senses.

“Rick,” she purred possessively.

“Mick,” he corrected grimly, his nostrils flaring, his mind set upon the battle before him. He would breach the ramparts and accept nothing less than unconditional surrender.

Eleanor stole softly to the door that separated her apartment from the Earl of Pembroke’s, knocked politely, and entered before she could be denied. William fitted exactly the night thoughts that drifted in and out of her dreams. Since her childhood he had represented strength, protection, loving arms.

He wore a bedrobe and had been glancing over Odiham’s account books, tallying its income. He arose and came forward instantly. “Eleanor, is aught amiss?”

“No, my lord,” she breathed. “I-I don’t wish to be alone. I have decided to spend the night here with you.”

“My dear, that is impossible,” he said, stiffening.

“Why?” she asked, knowing full well it was not impossible, for here they were.

“It is wrong,” he stated flatly. The sophisticated young woman in the wimple and velvet gown had turned into a child in her nightclothes.

“Why is it wrong?” she questioned in ignorance. “We are married.”

“My dearest child, we are married in name only. You are far too young to be a wife.” He moved purposely to the connecting door and held it wide for her. “You do understand, don’t you, Eleanor?”

Her dark-blue eyes filled with tears and threatened to spill over. Her lips quivered. “No—no,” she whispered huskily, “I don’t understand at all.”

“Oh, sweet, I’ve made you weep. Don’t, please, it breaks my heart.” His arms went about her protectively and he drew her closer to the fire and took her into his lap. Why in the name of God wasn’t her mother here to tell her these things? Then he repudiated the thought. The last person in the world he wanted to teach his bride about intimacy was Queen Isabella. He sighed and his big hand came up to smooth her unruly curls.

He had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who had insisted she be brought up as pure as the driven snow. He took a deep breath and plunged in. “The difference in our ages is so wide, I feel it would be selfish and unfair to ask a young girl of fifteen to share my bed.”

Her eyes were like liquid pools as she trustingly gazed up at him. She thought it would be heaven to share his bed and feel his strong arms about her in the lonely darkness. “I think I would like it. Can we not just try it for one night?” she begged softly.