Stuart, Elizabeth (51 page)

In
such a setting, Elen flowered into womanhood with all the trusting abandon of
any seventeen-year-old bride who knows herself well loved. She learned the
names of Richard's men and servants, seeing to their needs as if they had been
her own. She even grew to enjoy the pleasant conversation with his knights
after meals.

When
she and Richard retired to their chamber was when the day truly began for Elen.
Richard had opened the door for her to an undreamed world of pleasure and she
sought to return the favor. Having once been shown the way, she was an
uninhibited lover seeking to please the man she loved in a hundred little ways.

Michaelmas
came and went and with it Edward's call to the Shrewsbury Parliament. During
Richard's absence, Elen busied herself and the servants with a vengeance. The
old, soiled rushes were swept out and every floor in Gwenlyn scrubbed and laid
with a carpet of fresh rushes sprinkled with herbs. The bedchambers were aired
and cleaned and even the foul-smelling garderobes emptied and washed down.

Now,
entering the bedchamber she shared with Richard, Elen's whole body quickened
with longing as she thought of his return. The days and nights had seemed
endless since his departure, the great, curtained bed empty and cold without
him at her side. She knew she was being foolish, that there would be weeks and
months when he would be away far longer than this. Still, she attended Father
Dilwen's mass every morning, and prayed thrice daily for Richard's quick and
safe return.

And
she had learned a surprising fact about herself. She was jealous—terribly so.
She knew few men were faithful, even told herself it didn't matter if Richard
took some woman when she was not around. It was only a physical thing—Richard
had told her he loved no other. But the truth was it mattered. It mattered a
great deal.

Sudden
shouts rang out in the bailey. Elen hurried to the window and glanced down. Men
were moving about excitedly, but with no alarm in their motions. They couldn't
be under attack—it must be Richard!

She
whirled toward the sheet of polished metal hanging above her coffer which she
used as a mirror. Jerking the leather thong from her fat braid, she tied her
hair instead with a blue ribbon Richard had brought her. There was time for
nothing more. By the time she had tucked a few wisps of hair behind her ears,
the sound of steel-shod hooves rang on the lowered drawbridge.

Smoothing
her skirt into place, Elen hastened to the hall, calling orders for food and
drink as she hurried outside. Giles was already there, welcoming Richard and
his men as they dismounted.

Elen
shot a glance over the group. The men were muddy and travel-stained, their
mounts showing evidence of hard riding. She sent a brief prayer heavenward.
Whatever the trouble, she was thankful they had returned safe.

Richard's
eye caught hers over Giles's shoulder. After a few brief commands, he hurried
up the stairs.

They
met halfway and he caught her to him, his mouth seizing hers for a fierce kiss.
"Next time I take you with me, sweet," he mumbled, kissing her again.
"I'll not spend another two weeks like these last!"

So
he had missed her. Elen wound her arms around his neck, not caring for the stares
and good-natured grins of Richard's men. The steel of his hauberk dug into her
flesh but she ignored it, enjoying another long kiss of welcome.

Richard
was the first to draw away. "I've ruined your gown," he muttered,
staring down at the mud staining her clothing. "And before God, I must
smell like a goat. How can you stand so near?"

Elen
linked her arm through his, drawing him with her toward the hall. He smelled of
nothing besides horses, sweat and healthy man. "I happen to like
goats," she remarked, smiling, "and the gown can be cleaned. But what
of you?" She glanced back at the lathered horses, her worry rekindling.
"Was there trouble?"

"Trouble?
No. But I'd an unholy urge to reach Gwenlyn this day. I'd no wish for another
night on the road."

The
look in his eyes sent a delicious shiver of anticipation down her spine. She
glanced quickly away lest he sense her eagerness. "Come inside. There's
naught but bread and cheese and some smoked fish to hold your hunger till
supper, but there's ale aplenty to quench your thirst. And I'll have a bath
readied for you upstairs."

"But
I thought you liked goats," Richard murmured as they entered the hall.

"I
do, but they belong outside." She gave him a push toward a maidservant who
held out a bowl of water for handwashing. "See to your master, Agnes,
while I make sure food is readied."

Elen
stayed below only long enough to see the servants passing food and drink among
Richard's men. When she was sure all were being cared for, she hurried upstairs
to check that her husband's bath was being prepared.

Richard
followed a short time later, still chewing on a large hunk of bread he had
brought from the hall. "I see someone's been busy during our
absence," he remarked. "I doubt Gwenlyn has ever been so clean or
well run."

Elen
warmed to his praise. "With winter coming on the men will be much indoors.
I thought it best to take care of the matter now." She smiled at him
across the room. "Besides, it helped pass the time."

Richard
put down the bread and began to unbuckle his sword belt. He'd obviously bade
Simon remain below. Elen sent the servants from the room, then crossed to help
her husband disrobe. "Did you see that dog, de Veasy?" she inquired,
lifting off Richard's heavy steel hauberk. "I pray every day he will die
of a bloody flux!"

Richard
chuckled. "I saw the man, but we kept a polite silence. I think he fears
my wit if he provokes me. He'd appear a bit foolish were it known two lone men
entered his keep, bound him fast, and stole his treasure." His hands
lifted to her face and he held her head gently between his palms. "And
what a treasure you are," he whispered, lowering his mouth to hers.

Elen
leaned into his embrace, the tender kiss rapidly deepening into passion. How
could a simple kiss so rock her world? "I missed you," she admitted
when he lifted his head at last. "Each day seemed twice its length."

"And
I missed you, sweet, though I'll confess the long, dull nights were more my
enemy than the days."

Elen's
heart was racing painfully. Had he eased his desire with someone else? She
stepped away from him, turning to lay out towels beside the steaming tub.
"Oh? I heard you were a favorite among the queen's ladies," she
remarked, trying to speak as if in jest. "Were they so unattentive to your
needs?"

Richard
bent and stripped off his chausses, moving deliberately to climb into the tub.
So Elen was jealous. He scarcely dared believe it. "They were attentive
enough," he remarked blandly, "but none can hold a candle to a
certain chestnut-haired hellion I know. I fear my stay in Wales has given me a
taste for a woman who can near burn up the sheets in my bed."

Elen
blushed and bent to gather Richard's scattered clothing. She wasn't sure his
words were a compliment. He was telling her she was different from the English
women he knew, but he hadn't said he hadn't bedded with them. She felt a
flicker of doubt. Perhaps it wasn't good to be so obvious in her desire for
him.

Schooling
her face to show no emotion, she moved toward the door. "I'll just give
your things to the servants and—"

Richard
caught her wrist as she passed, drawing her back to the tub. "You'll do no
such thing," he said softly. "I didn't ride my horse near into the
ground to have naught but a moment of your time, Madame. And as for your
question—there's been no other woman for me since Beaufort. Now are you
satisfied?"

No
other woman since Beaufort; he had waited for her a long time. Elen's
confidence returned and she smiled bewitchingly. "Yes, my lord. But I hope
to be even more satisfied ere long."

Richard
leaned back, his lips framing a sensual smile. "Then I suggest you remove
your gown—unless you wish to have it washed on your back. I want you with me...
now."

"Richard..."
Elen tried to draw back, but he held her wrist firmly. She began to laugh, but
when he rose up from the water and made as if to lift her into the tub, she
drew back with a gasp. "No, no, wait!" she choked out. "Give me
a moment."

"A
moment only. Then you're coming in, clothing or no."

She
moved away from him, quickly slipping out of her gown, but leaving her shift in
place. She hastened to the mirror and unfastened her braid, letting her hair
become a thick, shining mass down her back. Stepping out of her shift, she
turned back to the sheet of polished metal to secure her hair atop her head with
a set of ivory combs Richard had given her.

Each
movement was slow, deliberate. She knew Richard was watching, felt the heat of
his gaze warming her like the sun. She put down the brush and moved toward him.
"Is this what you had in mind, my lord?"

"Witch...
come here and I'll show you what I had in mind."

She
halted beside the tub, staring down into Richard's narrowed eyes. His mouth was
set, the pulse beating visibly in his tanned throat. Wordlessly, he rose and
lifted her over the tub's edge, returning to his seat on the bathing stool as
he settled her in his lap.

Elen
wound her arms around his neck, closing her eyes and lifting her head for the
kiss she was sure would come. But to her surprise, Richard didn't kiss her at
once. Squeezing water across her shoulders, he drew the cloth across her body,
encircling her breasts in long, lazy movements that near stopped her breath.

His
hands dropped lower, drawing the cloth slowly across her belly then down to
wash her legs, the sensitive place beneath her thighs. His mouth sought the
taut peak of her breast, tugging at it until she was gasping.

Such
inflamed play was new to Elen and all the more rousing for its unexpectedness.
The silken warmth of the water enfolded her, Richard's lips enticing,
demanding, hot against her skin. Her hands slid over his chest and she sighed
his name, shifting against him as a rising tide of wanting built between them.

Richard
eased her from his lap, deftly moving her against the side of the tub. He
pressed against her, his mouth urgently seeking hers, their bodies all but
joining. "You've burned up my bed, love, now you set my bath aflame as
well," Richard whispered against her mouth. "How am I to think about
duty, work, anything save making love to you?"

His
eyes were dark with passion. Elen gazed back at him, her whole being afire with
his touch. "Stop talking and love me," she whispered. "Love me,
Richard, before I come apart."

Richard
swept her up in his arms, climbed out of the bath, and strode to the bed.
Dropping her in the center he dragged the combs from her hair, tumbling it
about them in a fiery sea of silk.

Elen
caught him to her, tangling her legs with his, wanting him with a desperation
that was almost frightening. Their mouths joined, separated, joined again. And
then he entered her—the release immediate, uncontrolled, shattering.

***

Some
time later, Elen awoke. The last burnished gold of evening filled the room; she
could tell it was growing late. She eased cautiously out of Richard's arms, but
he slept the sleep of exhaustion and didn't stir as she left the bed.

She
gazed about the room in amusement. Clothes were scattered everywhere and as
much water was out of the tub as in. The servants would have a good gossip over
this, she thought with a grin.

Gathering
up the clothing, she put it aside to be washed, and quickly restored the room
to as much order as possible. She hesitated beside the bed, staring down at
Richard, trying to decide whether sleep or food was his most pressing need.

Richard
slept on, unmoving. Her face softened. Dear God, how she loved him—more than
she had ever dreamed possible! She had never known this shattering ecstacy she
felt at Richard's touch, this deep need to be with him despite all reason to
the contrary. True, she had loved Enion, but she had come to realize it was in
much the same way she loved her brother Rhodri. She still missed her family,
still missed Enion's easy laugh and teasing ways, but the men were dead and she
and Richard alive. And life went on. As Eleanor had said, the war and killing
were done, the past best forgotten. The Wolf of Kent was no more.

Slipping
out of the room, Elen closed the door softly behind her. She would fetch up
supper on a tray and, when Richard awoke, he would have whatever he needed
without having to stir from his bed.

She
entered the hall, ignoring the knowing glances a few of the men cast her way.
She made her way along the side of the room, seeking Agnes to gather what she
needed from the kitchens. But within moments, all thought of food was forgotten.

"I'll
tell you, friend, the Welsh dog weren't so high and mighty when our Edward's
horses dragged him to the gallows through the streets of Shrewsbury!"

"Before
God, I wish I'd been there!"

"Aye,
they cut him down while he was breathin'. Had his entrails torn out and burnt
before his eyes, he did! His screams were something like." A round of
cheers went up and, for a moment, the speaker's deep, bass voice was drowned.