“Oh, so very sweet.” She clung to him, burying her head against his chest, hiding her face and trying to choose her words. “But – if that is how it’s done – as I suppose it must be – how will I know if I carry your child?”
He smiled at the top of her head. “No doubt I’ll know before you do, my love,” he said, “and will tell you.”
She mumbled, “Now you’ve said it again. Last night you called me that – over and over – my love. But you don’t love me. You don’t even know me.”
“I love you while I’m making love to you,” he murmured to her ear, caressing her tangled curls. There was a short pause, a restful silence as his hands then wandered a little below the bedclothes and found her breasts, creeping lower to her legs. “And I will learn to love you more,” he said, “as I hope gradually you learn to love me.”
She hesitated, then said simply, “I do already.”
“That, my dear, is honest lust speaking,” he grinned at her, “and the flush of a first climax. It will wear off very quickly the next time I annoy you.”
“Will you annoy me?” Her heart beat had quickened.
His fingers rubbed gently between her legs and he pulled the covers from her once again, nuzzling her breasts and kissing her. “Without doubt,” he said, “perhaps very soon. Before last night you thought you hated me. Now perhaps you think differently. A child’s romantic notions – no more. Did you dream endlessly of romance with Peter? And now you find it suddenly with me? Yet once this first discovery of lust wears off, then perhaps annoyance will return. But for me, if we speak of love making then it’s love making I want, with you as wet and sticky as I left you last night. So do I take you again, as I want to? Or think with my head instead of my prick, and leave you in peace to get dressed?”
“Oh, please don’t stop. And besides,” she murmured, “my dresser won’t know where to find me,”
“Would she be so surprised to find you in your husband’s bedchamber?”
Emeline admitted, “And first I should go – before anything else – to the garderobe.”
He did not remove his hand, and would not let her hide her face. “Lean back, and let me explore you in daylight. I’ll be gentle, I promise. But where a man would have trouble swiving when his bladder’s full, with a woman it’s different. The pleasure increases. Look, when I press up here, you feel it tighter and deeper.” Emeline groaned a little, lay back and closed her eyes. Then she sat up with a squeak. He had stopped abruptly.
She tried to grab his wrist. “Don’t you – won’t you?”
“Modesty already abandoned, my sweet?” He stood, grinning and looking down at her.
She screwed up her nose. “You made me feel – and now you’re just teasing me.”
“Only two days more, and we’ll have the peace and comfort to learn a good deal more about each other.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Then you can decide whether you hate me or want me. Now eat your breakfast while I get a boy to find your maid. There’s a lot to organise today, both for our travels and for the months of repairs to be undertaken by those left behind.” He was moving away, but turned back. “I intend riding out a mile or so to see how the roads are for tomorrow, but so far it’s a mild spring and promises a pleasant journey. The wild lilac’s in bloom already in the hedgerows. Soon we’ll see the first swallows on the wing.”
Emma had tugged the eiderdown back up to her chin. “Oh, do you love the countryside too?” she said, peeping over the thick feather quilt. “I always looked for the first swallows over the Cotswolds back home.”
He gazed at the now well covered bundle beneath his bedclothes. “Sadly swallows seem to be the only thing on my horizon at present. Modesty is evidently a hard habit to break after all, my dear. Now, how, I wonder, do I teach you to be a wanton, and encourage you to climb bare arsed into my lap?”
She giggled. “At the dinner table?”
“I’d have no objection.”
The door clicked shut behind him. Emmeline waited, holding her breath. Then she kicked off the blankets, swung her legs from the bed, flung both arms out to the intruding daylight, and began to dance with the shadows. The shy sun’s warmth spangled her body as she whirled. She was interrupted by the door opening again. “My lady?”
Petronella had never before seen her mistress wheeling stark naked and entirely abandoned, especially considering this was, admittedly her husband’s, but still a gentleman’s bedchamber. Emeline flopped backwards onto the bed. “It is,” she sighed to the ceiling beams, “a beautiful day after all, Nellie. Such a beautiful life. And a truly beautiful world.”
“I’m sure it is, my lady.” Petronella eyed her mistress with misgiving. “Tis surely good to see you recovered from the sullens of recent, madam. I was worried, as was Mistress Martha.” The maid did not admit that she still was.
“That,” beamed Emeline, “was before I understood what real love was all about. Now everything has changed.”
Just as predawn paled the stars on the following morning, Nicholas helped his wife mount her palfrey, swung his leg over his own bay’s back, and waved the outriders on ahead. The litter with the lady’s nurse and personal maid, the trundling cart of baggage and the four armed guards rattled slowly some way behind, for Nicholas hoped to make Nottingham by that evening and had no desire to ride at the same speed as the pack horses. The square young man Emeline already recognised as the squire David Witton, rode at the retinue’s head, but sometimes Nicholas called to him, and they travelled some miles alongside, speaking quietly together.
Although left almost entirely in silence, Emeline watched her husband’s strong boned profile, square shoulders and long legs tucked to his horse’s flanks in complacent anticipation. Before the light had fully risen behind the trees, they were on the road leading east, and the dawn’s increasing pastel luminescence was in their eyes. Nicholas remembered occasionally to ask his wife how she felt, and whether, being a country girl, she was content to pass long hours in the saddle. But, more accustomed to solitary pursuits and lonely journeys, he was generally a quiet companion, leaving Emeline to relive her memories. The birds were tiny black shadows in the lightening sky and the wind had sunk to breezes by the time Nicholas signalled to halt. The wayside inn was expecting them, arrangements having been made by the outriders, and stopping for bread, cheese and light ale allowed Emeline to stretch her legs and back.
They were back in the saddle having ridden a few miles more with the sun now climbing higher when, although without any threat of rain or creeping cloud cover, the light dimmed as though it might suddenly snuff out. Emeline stared upwards, pulled on the reins and slowed her pace. Nicholas called, “The next roadside tavern isn’t far away. We may have to stop again.”
She pointed. Nicholas came beside her, one hand to her horse’s bridle as it backed, abruptly skittish. Where the sun’s light had been vividly visible, now, in a moment’s blink, it had begun to turn dark, edged aside by a steady return to night. The sun’s brilliant circle was swallowed as if by a great black throat and hungry invading teeth. Rich blackness sank across the road and over the banked green roadside, the trees ahead and the fields all around. A star, just above the horizon’s forested tips, flickered awake. For an instant, the sun’s circle glowed as a huge empty ring with one tiny and terrifying point of dazzle. Then was gone into startling pitch.