Allegiance Page 3
The thing that perplexed him the most was his state of constant arousal whenever he was near her. “I suppose I should be glad of that,” he thought. “Perhaps it’s the anticipation of bedding a virgin that has me acting like a rutting fool.”
His heart recognized it was more than that, though he had never had a virgin before. He had been careful with the women he chose to bed.
Perhaps ‘careful’ should be my middle name.
His past relationships had been about alleviating his male urges, and nothing more. He had chosen experienced women who had taught him a great deal about female needs, women who were not looking for a relationship. He was grateful to them, and they appreciated his gentleness and consideration. In deference to his parents, he was discreet about his liaisons and avoided whores. He liked clean, sweet smelling women and never spilled his seed inside his partners, having no desire to sire bastards. He looked forward with unbridled enthusiasm to taking Annalise completely, filling her with his children. He was satisfied. It would be a good arrangement.
* * *
Annalise found the few days she spent with Rhys unsettling. She hated what had happened to her and fumed at being used in a political game. She had longed to leave the life her father imposed upon her, but now it seemed she was exchanging one tyranny for another.
Her belly clenched with dread at the thought of living in the wilds of an unknown, barbaric country. However, to her dismay, she could not find hatred in her heart for the tall, dark nobleman to whom she was betrothed. She liked the sound of his voice, and the melodic way he spoke her language.
She resolved to hide her heart from him. To Rhys she was a means to an end, a business transaction he had been obliged to enter into for the sake of his brothers and the need to produce heirs. He must never discover she liked him.
Wedding
The wedding was an important social occasion for the community in Warwick, and all the local gentry were there. The Earl of Ellesmere attended with Rhys’s younger sister. His older sister, Myfanwy Mabelle, the Prioress of Llansanfraid, was in attendance and she promised to keep Rhun and Rhydderch under her watchful eye. Beaumont had given a special dispensation for them to attend.
His mother came and immediately perceived his anxiety. An hour or two after her arrival, she reached up to put her hands on his shoulders and forced him to look at her. He bent his head. “You’re nervous, my son,” she exclaimed. “Mayhap, you’re taken with this girl you’re about to marry.”
“Mother,” he replied sardonically, shaking his head, “you’re too ready to have people tumble into love. I know you fell for my father the moment you cast eyes on him, and he with you, and, yes, I know Baudoin adores Carys, but you’re the unusual ones. Most men do not love their wives, and, to be frank I don’t want to be in love with mine. I don’t need the distraction. Annalise will be a good wife, and we’ll have children together, and hopefully we’ll become friends.”
Rhonwen put her hands to his neck and shook him. “Hmm! I’m insulted by your remarks. Your father has never considered me a ‘distraction’ even though I’m an old woman now. He wanted to come to your wedding, believe it or not, but I’m sorry to say his health has worsened since you left. He sends his love.”
Rhys was remorseful. He took hold of his mother’s hands and kissed them. “I didn’t mean it that way, and you’re not old,” he said with exasperation, noting sadly the grey hair and wrinkled brow. She spoke the truth and he feared for his father. He too had noticed a rapid decline in his sire of late. But Rhodri was born three score years ago. No one lived forever, and considering the dangerous life his father had led—
She cupped his face in her hands and stood on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. “I know,” she said tenderly. “I simply find it difficult to imagine a satisfying marriage bed without the presence of love.”
She hesitated, then reached to unfasten the amber necklace she wore. Everyone in the family knew his father had given it to her when they first met. His mother smiled and held out the beads. “Bend down, Rhys. I want you to have these.”
He protested. “No, I can’t accept them. Father gave them to you. My grandmother made them for him.”
“Your father would want you to have them now.”
He bent and she placed the treasured, finely-crafted beads around his neck, tying the thong behind his nape with trembling hands. He kissed the tears from her cheeks.
“Now, go take your place with Baudoin to await your bride.”
* * *
Rhys did not later recollect much of the ceremony. Normally articulate and confident, he could barely speak, possibly because the incense was too strong. After they’d exchanged vows and entered the small chapel, the oak beams seemed to press down on him. Beaumont looked like he had fallen asleep.
Annalise suffered the same stuttering affliction. He remembered the sticky warmth of her hand in his. He recalled how stunningly beautiful she looked as she came into his view on her uncle’s arm, the décolletage of her shimmering dress confirming the bounty he had suspected. His eyes wandered from her breasts to the garland of flowers wound around her head. All he could think of was unwinding them later and letting her golden hair fall free. There was an intoxicating scent about her—a potpourri perhaps. Brides wore such to their weddings. But where was it concealed?
Above all, he remembered the kiss they had shared at the appropriate moment. As he bent to kiss her, the swirl of her tongue over her lips undid him. Her mouth was warm and moist and he coaxed her to open. At first she resisted, but then, to his surprise, her lips parted. He licked the inside of her mouth, breathing with her as they stared wide-eyed at each other in confusion.
His hips took over. He gently pressed his aching need against her and she blushed. He was confident he had aroused her. They broke apart quickly, but he suspected Carys, Baudoin and his mother had all noticed. They shared a knowing smile. They were such optimists where love was concerned.
* * *
As she neared the chapel, Annalise forced herself to look at her betrothed. He stood tall and straight, waiting. Any woman would be glad to marry this noble knight, yet she could not willingly accept him. She caught sight of the beads at his neck. The necklace was obviously old, yet the beads shone with a golden glow. He fingered them as if seeking reassurance. Was he as nervous as she?
Her palm had become sweaty. She wanted to wipe it before the earl gave her hand to Rhys, but there was no opportunity.
Even in the tiny entryway, the incense was so strong she could hardly breathe. She worried the cut of her dress was too low and wondered if the flowers in her hair were still straight. Perhaps, they’d wilted in the heat rising from her body.
The potpourri sachet prickled between her breasts. In truth, her whole body was prickly, the heat intensifying when Rhys bent to kiss her. She didn’t understand why she’d opened her mouth. It seemed the thing to do, but he looked as confused as she felt when he teased her tongue.
She had seen her brother’s boy parts more than once when they were little children, but did not recall it being anything like the hard length Rhys pressed against her. Why was she so wet in that most private place? Perhaps she was ill.
* * *
The wedding feast was sumptuous. Guests were served roasted meats and fowl of all sorts, venison, mutton, rabbit, goose and duck. Watching the earl gorge on his food, Rhys was not surprised he had become obese. Even his niece seemed repulsed by his appalling manners. Rhonwen laughed out loud when a multi-colored boar’s head was carried in on an iron pan. Annalise eyed her strangely.
“It’s one dish that never seems to go out of fashion, no matter where you are,” she explained. “Baudoin can tell you what I mean.”
Baudoin nodded and told Annalise the story of his family’s captivity in the fortress of Cadair Berwyn when he was a child. “Rhonwen protected me and my brother, Robert. At the Yuletide feast our captors served a boar’s head, and it reminded my mother and her maid of feasts at Ellesmere.”
Rhys squeezed his new wife’s hand. “Who would have thought Baudoin would be married to Carys, a daughter born of the union of Rhodri and Rhonwen, and I, eldest son of a fierce Welsh rebel, would be marrying a Norman noblewoman.”
He wasn’t sure what to think of the glare Annalise directed at him in reply. But she did not pull her hand from his.
Bedding
After the feast came the bedding ceremony. Rhys had made it clear he would not tolerate any embarrassment anyone might think to cause his bride when they were taken to their chamber. “I’m particularly concerned about Rhun and Rhydderch,” he confided to his wife. “They’ve behaved themselves thus far, but who knows what they might get up to? Teasing and ribaldry are permitted, watching you and me consummate our marriage is not.”
Annalise reddened but was immensely relieved. Having imbibed copious amounts of ale, the twins soon became boisterous, but their teasing of Rhys was all in good fun, and even she smiled at some of their antics. She leaned closer to him. “I can see why you’re fond of those two scoundrels.”
He looked at her strangely. Did he think she had perhaps drunk too much?
As midnight approached, the two redheads hoisted a laughing Rhys on their shoulders and bore him to the chamber. Perspiration beaded on her brow. He was even more handsome when he laughed. Baudoin and another nobleman invited Annalise to be seated and lifted her chair, carrying her off to be with her groom. The knot in her belly tightened.
A screen had been provided in the chamber and Annalise and her maid stepped behind it. Pirette helped her remove the wedding attire. “Should I keep this on?” she whispered, fingering the tiny sachet of potpourri wedged between her breasts, held there by a pale ribbon around her neck.
A smile flickered across the girl’s face. Blushing, she nodded, helping her mistress slip on the sheer nightgown that Annalise had optimistically sewn when she thought she might marry a handsome knight. It was a very feminine garment, beautifully and lovingly embroidered, with bows at the shoulders which, when unloosened, would allow it to fall to the floor. How she regretted the impulse now. She had wed a handsome knight, just not one in love with her. Her dreams of surrendering her maidenhead to a man in her thrall were dead.
She looked across the room. Realizing it would be necessary to walk past the bawdy crowd in order to get to the bed, she looked aghast at Pirette. Fortunately, her trusty maid draped a bed-robe around her.
“Merci,” she whispered gratefully.
They scurried to the big bed and the maid tucked her in, propping her up with the bolster. Annalise kept her eyes averted from the rowdy behavior going on at the other end of the chamber, convinced her face must be a deep red by now.
Rhun and Rhydderch were happily undressing Rhys, tossing his clothing wherever it might land, and he soon stood naked, wearing only his amber beads. The twins seemed momentarily surprised when they saw the necklace, but then smiled and winked.
Men covered their wives’ eyes. There was much laughter and giggling from the women and lusty comments from the men. Rhun held out a bed-robe, but then snatched it away, and threw it to Rhydderch. They carried on this game for several minutes, until Rhys grabbed the robe and shrugged it on.
“Ho ho, Rhys, not cool and calm now, are you?” Rhun taunted to everyone’s amusement.
* * *
Rhys shook his head, aware the heat had risen in his face. “I should have known better than to invite you two miscreants,” he quipped. They teased him because they loved him. They had never thanked him for their freedom, but were here for him now when he needed their support. Danger still lurked for them at Warwick, but it was good to have family close at hand. The twins cheered him on as he crossed the room to climb into bed beside Annalise. She looked nervous. He clasped her hand under the linens and gave it a reassuring squeeze, entwining their fingers together. His shaft responded predictably to the warmth of her skin.
The Bishop of Warwick intoned a brief blessing and sprinkled the bed with holy water. The redheads, with Baudoin’s help, jovially ushered all the guests out of the room, Rhun closing the door with a wink at his newly married brother.
Rhys could not think of anything to say to the beautiful and very nervous woman he had married—a unique situation for him to be at a loss for words. He’d thought this marriage business would be easy, cut and dried.
To cover his nervousness, he said, “I suppose the two of them will grow up eventually.”
“They love you, milord. You’re lucky to have such a loving family,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.
Rhys was mortified. He did not want his wife to recall their wedding night with sadness. Her happiness was important. He reached over, wiped her tears with his thumb and whispered, “Please call me Rhys. I won’t be ‘my lord’ in my own bed with my own wife, and I won’t have tears. This is a joyful night for me and I want it to be the same for you. I’m not the man you hoped to marry, but I’ll take good care of you, and you’ll never have cause to fear me. Perhaps we can be friends?”
She gazed at the linens, her fingers still entwined in his. “I would like to be friends,” she whispered shyly. “I’ve never had a friend.”
His heart went out to her and he rose from the bed, took her by the hand and pulled her up to him. He wanted to enfold her in his embrace and slay whatever demons she suffered from past hurts. “Many married couples never achieve an understanding of friendship, Annalise,” he whispered, pressing her body to his and cupping her bottom with his hands.
He was elated when her hips moved into him a little. The heat of her skin seeped through the fabric that barely hid her body. He kissed her, softly at first and then deeply, exploring her mouth with his tongue, sucking hers into his mouth. His state of arousal urged him to tear away the bed-robe and thrust deeply into her, but he wanted her first time to be a good experience. He slipped the flimsy wrap from her shoulders to reveal the nightgown. For the first time, he noticed the pale ribbon around her neck that disappeared into—
“You look beautiful, Annalise. Did you make this lovely and enticing garment?” He supposed the lingering after-effects of the incense made him sound hoarse.
“I did mi—oui, I made it, Rhys,” she replied, blushing.
He smiled at the thought of his virgin bride making this suggestive and enticing garment. Her very innocence tugged at his heart. She must be aware of his arousal pressed against her. Did she know what was expected of her, of them both? She’d grown to womanhood deprived of a mother’s counsel.
He nibbled her ear. “May I undo the bows?”
“Oui, Rhys, you may untie the bows,” she murmured.
Rhys slipped the first bow from its knot. The fabric fell from her shoulder, exposing the top of one enticing breast. She shuddered when he brushed his lips across the swell. When he slipped the second bow, the silk slid from her body with a whisper to fall in a pool at her feet.
He had never set eyes on such beautiful breasts; they were large, full, bountiful, the taut nipples pink, the areolas pale. And there, in the deep cleft, lay the tiny sachet. Aha! He carefully lifted the ribbon over her head and inhaled deeply of the sachet’s perfume. His senses reeled. He wanted to bury his face in the scented warmth. She was perfection. He was disappointed her maid had taken out the floral garland, freeing her hair to cascade over bare shoulders like liquid honey all the way down to her small waist and curvaceous hips.
She nervously tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Are you happy with what you see mi—Rhys? Am I—?”
Her nervous innocence touched his heart. “You’re everything a man could dare hope for in a wife, Annalise,” he whispered. She wanted him to be pleased even though she didn’t love him.
He cupped her breasts with his hands, brushing a kiss on each nipple. She tensed and threw back her head. He was aroused further at the possibility he had married a passionate woman. “Untie my robe so you can see my body. We must never be embarrassed to be naked together. Honesty is easie
r when you’re naked, and it’s important we have honesty between us.”
When she hesitated, he guided her hands to the belt of his bed robe. She pulled it slowly, exposing his body to her view. She gasped and blinked rapidly, her eyes widening. He slipped the robe off his shoulders, took her hand and placed it on his swollen phallus. “Don’t be afraid, little one. This is all for you, my Annalise,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. “I am a faithful man. I will never betray our vows.”
He moved her warm hand on his arousal, encouraging her to explore him. Pleasure soared. “There’ll be pain the first time, but it will pass,” he rasped. “I’ll make sure you’re ready so it won’t be too painful.”
She nodded. A strange sound emanated from her throat. Her eyes smoldered, but had she understood his meaning? He led her to the bed where he knelt in the center, inviting her to do the same, facing him. He drew her body to his, his erection hard against her belly. Her breasts were almost more than his big hands could hold, and he tenderly squeezed first one nipple, then the other, then both.
“Rhys,” she panted.
So far so good.
“Don’t fight the sensations,” he said. “They are what we were born for. Men and women were made for each other’s pleasure. Don’t be afraid. You know what happens now? You know we’ll join our bodies—become one?”