How to Marry Your Wife (19 page)

Chapter 35

Hadrian’s Wall reflected the warmth of the spring sun, increasing it twofold. Surrounded, a small army sang gaily in time to the clomping of horse’s hooves. Thomas removed Merry’s scarf and her hair blew freely in the wind, whipping about her face. Deep dimples dug into his clean-shaven cheeks as he tucked her close. Under her cloak, his clever fingers toyed with one hardening nipple.

“Stop that.” She squeezed her thighs tight where wetness pooled and punched at him playfully. In retribution, her fingers wrapped around his rising pintle.

He snickered. “Truce, dear wife, we’ve arrived.”

A man shouted from a turret, above a gated entrance in the stone wall. “What ho?”

“Sir D’Agostine requesting entrance.” Thomas groaned as he slid her off his body and to the ground. He followed and adjusted belt over bulge.

The thick oak door, deep within the wall, creaked as it opened wide into a bricked courtyard. A smiling man in Templar colors and sandals strode forward. He grasped forearms with Thomas and whacked his back. Then he ushered them all through the gate. “
Entrez-vous
.”

“
Merci
.” Thomas handed Demon’s reins to a young acolyte and motioned for Jacob to see to the men. Little Tom waved, dressed in miniature mail, happy to spend time as a knight for a few days.

She turned her attention to the huge church that dwarfed the courtyard and her mouth dropped open wide. Ten marble statues graced the façade. Countless gargoyles grinned. Above, a mosaic of the Virgin Mary smiled down kindly. The halo and sky around her head sparkled in gold, almost too bright to gaze upon.

Merry turned to the sandaled man. “Can we go inside?”

Thomas chuckled. “Sir Guy, meet my wife, Meredith D’Agostine. Merry, this is the abbot, Father Guy Dupuis.”

The Templar gave Thomas a wink as he took her hand and kissed it. “Ah. She is so, so,
belle
. But later, no? For seeing the sights? Already, your husband drools like a hungry dog.”

He released her hand, placed it in Thomas’ and she giggled. “Are we going to take vows of celibacy? Or get our marriage annulled, yet again?”

Thomas smirked. “If that’s what trolls prefer.”

“You need to desist with that word. I may take offense.” She laughed, caught in his fond gaze.

His eyebrows creased as if in pain and he squeezed her hand. “When I call you that, I remember how fiercely you rescued me and I’m undone.”

Brother Guy snickered, made the sign of the cross, and strode toward the barracks where Jacob directed the men. He turned his head and shouted, “Best you bed her quickly,
mon ami
.”

She held up her tunic and skipped as Thomas sped her across the brick palazzo. He led her past rows of stone houses, each with their own garden and strong slate roofs. Finally, the road narrowed into a thin alley and he stopped at a red door. “Welcome home.”

She fingered the smooth paint. “Ours?”

“Aye. At least until we finish the repairs to our keep.” With a hand to the small of her back, he unlocked their door and ducked them under a keystone arch. Crossing the room, he opened a shutter and bathed the room in yellow light. He answered her unasked question with a proud tap on the window. “It’s shaved amber.”

But that wasn’t what drew her attention. Covered in deep blue curtains, a huge bed hung from the ceiling, requiring more space than the long table that stood in front of it. She swallowed hard.

He barred the door, sighed, and placed his frog, sword, and Templar colors on a peg. “At last, we’re alone. Can you get at my leather ties?”

“No. I can’t reach.” She pulled him over to a bench by the door, kicked off her shoes, and stood upon it. Knots that held his mail refused to loosen. “Argggg. Even your clothing works against us.”

“Patience. I’ve let the word out, we’re to be left alone from Sunday to Sunday.” With a chuckle, his hands kissed her stomach in front of his face.

She giggled when he cupped her arse and put his face below her belt. If he kept this up, they’d couple with him fully mailed and she’d end up bruised. “And what of mass?”

A priest has been well paid to pray for our sins.” He sat down between her legs, pulled off his boots, and removed metal leggings while she continued to fight with the leather ties.

“Stop wiggling about so.” When she took teeth to them, the knots finally let go and his mail clunked to the floor atop one of his feet.

“Christ our savior.” He jumped up off the bench and hopped around the room while she rushed after.

“I’m so sorry.”

Turning the frown into a hoot of laughter, he rolled with her onto the bed in a fierce hug. She giggled and kicked when his fingers met her ribs. “Nay, stop. Oh, stop.”

“Ha. Serious punishment must commence for the untalented squire.” His eyes turned dark with lust, he cupped her face, and firm lips surrounded hers.

She closed her eyes and shivered. Mint, mead, and the exotic flavor of Thomas flooded her senses. Moaning, she reached around his head and played with his thick hair. He gave a small growl and all thoughts vanished.

She opened her mouth to allow his tongue entrance and he took the kiss deeper into bliss. Tongue greeted tongue in an erotic dance. She arched to his hands as they stroked up and down her body, but too much cloth still lay between them.

Gasping for breath, she broke out of the kiss and untied the crisscross lacing at his chest. “This has got to go.”

Dark eyes penetrated hers as he kept her locked in his gaze and slipped out of his thick vest. He kissed her fiercely once more, stopped, and tore off his under-tunic.

Her hands shot to his warm strong chest.

More.

She needed more of him.

She lifted her arms, thinking he’d remove her clothing, but he grabbed both hands and held her there. He purred deep in his throat as his other hand moved from cheek, to neck, then to breast. There, he stopped and played before letting go and finding the hem of her tunic. It tore as he tugged it over her head.

Breathing hard, his hands fingered her new dainty underthings, no doubt looking for how to release them. She giggled. With a flick of the wrist, she untied the ribbons at her sides and wriggled out.

For a moment, he just stared as she lay bared before him. Then one finger caressed a breast and moved down lower to her navel, and lower still. He found her wetness, moaned, and wrapped around her. His coarse chest hair met tender nipples.

She kissed a spot just below his ear and he shuddered. He gently placed hands to her shoulders, lay her upon her back, and opened her inner thighs wide with his outer. With pintle close to her opening, he rested upon one elbow and pinched the tips of her already over-sensitized breasts. A thread of longing shot to her core.

She arched up and whimpered. “Please. Now.”

He moaned as he pushed into her fully, and his base met the spot that wanted him most. More urgent than her next breath, she arched up as he thrust down. Again and again they met as one, climbing higher and higher and faster and faster. The bliss she needed was so close it sang out. The sound of his groan sent her over the edge and into heaven. He followed with a shout and two magnificent pumps that sent her off again.

After he’d spent his seed, he lay heavy upon her. His rapid breath slowed and the drum in his chest came to a steady cadence. She traced a scar on his muscled upper arm and explored his back while he lazed atop her.

He twitched still within and sighed. “Are you happy, oh trolly, mine?”

“Aye. Never better.” She played with the hair on the back of his neck.

He snickered. “Never?”

“I don’t believe so. Why?”

“Ha. Do you throw down a gauntlet? I’ll need to make you happier still. I’ll have a very merry wife forever.” He pulled out of her and began to kiss her anew.

This time, his caresses were slow and gentle. The urgency had passed for both of them. She smiled. Sweetness lay ahead for many days and nights to come.

She sighed contentedly when she realized not one memory had plagued her while joining with her husband. “Come, Sir Thomas, Lord of No-Man’s-Land, most favored merchant, and husband to troll. See if you can add another accolade.”

“What do you have in mind?” He kissed her ear as he whispered.

I’m sure you can think of something.” She giggled and opened her legs.

Epilogue

Thomas smiled at his wife’s big belly, as she wandered from table to table, wishing all a blessed Christmas. Mayhap by next year they’d have a daughter with hair the color of sunset. Many of their villagers still remained and drank mulled mead by the warmth of his large hearth. More snored upon straw cots that’d been laid out when tables were pushed aside hours ago.

Tom and Marc giggled as they sat by a smaller fire on the opposite side of the room. They played ‘George and the dragon’ with Merry’s nine-year-old half-brother, Robert-the-Sixth. Earlier, a fierce battle of snowballs had waged until teeth chattered and she’d insisted upon a truce.

Thomas grabbed a present from one of the branches of the tree that sat in a wooden bucket filled with stones. Hiding it in his hand, he rested back in his stuffed chair by the fire. Marcus snoozed with the latest of his brood asleep in one arm, while Ann did the same with the next smallest.

Most of his knights had retired to their barracks. He snickered when he remembered how Merry had to be convinced that the animals housed below would create more than enough warmth above. His men were horrified when she’d decided to sleep a frigid night within their building.

With a fingertip to her lips, Merry approached and directed several of the townsmen to lay a straw cot at his feet. She shooed them away and sat onto his lap.

He reached around her belly and put her gift into her hand. “Open this.”

“I really should wait until tomorrow.” Her fingers squeezed the bag as she tried to guess the contents.

He chuckled. “Go ahead. I just recently had it brought back from London Towne.”

“Very well.” Eyes wide as a child, she stretched open the tie at the top of the linen bag, reached in, and pulled out the precious jade. With a frown, she turned the Buddha around and around. “Mayhap this was intended for Tom? What an odd little man.”

He snickered. “He’s a god in another culture.”

“This foolish little jester? She held it up to the light and the Buddha laughed at her.

“Aye. The gods smile in faraway places. That’s my gift to you. My vision of god-the-father. He laughs, he jokes, and he’s an all-around fine fellow. He’s not your God, who miserly counts sins and doles out a just punishment for each. Think of all your blessings. Which one suits us better?”

She broke into a wide grin and kissed him on the mouth. “I love it. I’ll keep him with me always, to remind me.”

“There’s one more.” He leaned over, reached under his chair, and handed her the hurdy-gurdy that he’d bought years ago in Venice.

With the most beautiful of smiles, she squealed. “I thought it lost, stolen, with the rest of my things in Scarborough.” She turned the handle and a tune played with a plink-plink.

He circled his arms around her. “I had a hinge put on the lid.”

Her eyes questioned his, as she popped the lid open. She uncurled the parchment within and the ruby-of-kings fell into the mechanism. “Oh, my.” She lifted it toward the firelight and red prisms danced across the walls of their home. Placing it back into the box, she read aloud.

My Dearest Cherished Wife,

I hasten to fall asleep every night for there is the only place I can feel your sweet lips upon mine and hold your body near. During the day, the vision of your loveliness is what beats the drum in my chest and causes my breath to draw in and out. You are my life.

I have paid a king’s fortune to see this safely to you, for I fear that all the rest have gone astray. Fear not for me. I will love you forever and will return home to you. On this belief, you must hold fast.

I still have not amassed enough wealth to dare return to Edward, which drives me further into lands unknown . . .

Her voice cracked. “The rest is smudged.” She snuggled her wet face into his neck. Soft lips tasted of mead and eyes held promise of more. “I shall cherish this parchment above all other things for the rest of my days. Thank you.”

When their lips separated, she smiled, jumped off his lap, and grabbed a small bag off the tree. “I have one more for you. Open your hand and close your eyes.”

He chuckled. “I already have more tunics and belts than I’ll be able to wear before next Christmastide.”

Sitting back in his lap, she punched him playfully, and placed a small rough object in his open palm. Within his hand was a ring made from the button he’d placed on the ground in front of her nose, so many months ago.

“Whenever I’ve felt disheartened, it has given me hope. Your love makes all things possible.” Her angelic smile sliced him asunder.

He put the ring on his finger and wiped an eye with the sleeve of his tunic. He cleared his throat as his father-in-law entered from the kitchen, along with wife, Marjorie.

“We should head upstairs before the minstrels start again. One more chorus of ‘Christ is Born this Day’ and I do believe I may draw blood.”

Thomas shifted Merry closer into his lap and off his knees. “Agreed.”

“And those God-forsaken bagpipes. Who thought those were a good notion?” Robert sank down into a nearby chair and pulled his wife to him.

She pushed at his chest with feigned indignation. “I believe
you
were the one who insisted.”

Robert chuckled. “Well, next year, invite the Scots, but not their wind . . . I must say, you two, this keep is a miracle. There’s sheep in the field, tight thatch, food fit for a king . . . How did you do it all in so short a time?”

“Except for guarding the walls and providing the coin, it’s all your daughter’s doing.” Thomas squeezed Merry’s thigh and she beamed.

Her father leaned over, patted her belly, and lifted her hand to his mouth. “When’s the next D’Agostine due?”

“Still several more moons.” She smiled back at him with a daughter’s love.

Releasing her, he stood and wandered to the staircase with Marjorie at his side. “I wish we could spend the whole of twelve nights with you, but we’re off to Carlisle in the morning.” He directed his gaze to Thomas. “’Tis good you made peace with my father.”

“Gold forges ties that bind. For your father, even more so than blood.” Thomas shrugged.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Robert winked at Merry, strolled back to the tree, and reached into a wool bag with a large bow. He handed Thomas a parchment with Edward’s seal.

Merry stood, gasped, and pushed at her father’s chest. “I’ve been worrying myself daft all day that Edward changed his mind.”

With an eyebrow raised, her father smirked. “Really? I just assumed you knew. Promises are met. Annandale and Edward are at ease. This just makes it all legal. I’d no idea you were worried. Well, well. Now that’s done. Thank you, my dear. I don’t believe we’ve ever had a finer Christmas.”

Her lower lip went out in a bit of a pout. “I do wish you’d stay. Tomorrow we have more caroling and more bagpipes—”

“No, no. We have to go.” He shook his head vehemently and his wife rolled her eyes.

Thomas stood, curled the parchment, and placed it safely in a round hole in the wall at the foot of the stairs. “Is your father still angry that you side with Edward against his ambitions?”

“I don’t give a fig. The time’s not ripe. As long as Edward keeps away from our borders, I see no reason to war.”

“That’s good news. I’ve no desire to pick up arms again.”

Nodding, Robert and Marjorie strolled across the room, said goodnight to their son, and ascended the staircase.

Thomas snuggled deep into the furs on the cot with Merry and whispered promises of lovemaking. They closed their eyes and were soon asleep.

A clanging upon iron woke them from outside. Thomas grabbed his sword and opened the keep door at the insistence of his guard. With face bloodied and battered, Nicholas dropped to the floor panting. “Quick. Say naught and hide me well. They follow.”