“You are evil, wench, beyond your years. If I live to see this out, I will have you exorcised by the monks.”
Aislinn sat up and smiled down at him. “What is your proposal, Wulfgar?” she inquired gayly. “As you know only a husband truly wed can exorcise his spouse.”
“Aaargh.” Wulfgar writhed as if in pain. “You even bait me in my hour of need when I am stretched up the rack of your spell.”
He opened his eyes and peered at her and even now some of the red had left them and a more healthy color returned to his cheeks.
“ ’Tis but a cleansing balm,” she sighed in feigned disappointment. “With the poisons gone you’ll soon feel much better.”
Wulfgar probed with his fingers about his head. “It does feel almost normal and I vow I could devour the Hun.”
He drew another pillow beneath his shoulders and regarded her more warmly.
“Are you pleased with the garments the tailor made for you?”
Aislinn nodded happily, setting her coppery locks tumbling over the blanket she clutched about her. “I have never known such finery before, Wulfgar. Thank you for the gift.” She bent and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “The gowns are worthy enough for any queen.” She lifted her eyes to his. “The price must have lightened your purse sorely.”
He shrugged, noncommittal, as his gaze dipped to where the blanket gaped away from her breast, but Aislinn sat back upon her heels, his lustful regard unnoticed, and frowned slightly.
“But I fear the garments might meet the fate of my own. They are far too lovely to be let alone.”
Wulfgar half grunted his reply. “I’ll attend to that.”
Aislinn plopped down beside him again and snuggled close against his side. “Then they are truly mine? To wear as I will?”
“Of course. Would I give you gifts then take them back?” he questioned, peering at her from the corner of his eye.
She brushed a cheek against his shoulder. “What can a slave claim without the will of the lord?” She sighed then laughed lightly. “I vow I must be the first slave ever to be robed so richly. I will no doubt be the envy of many at Darkenwald. What will you tell them when they ask you about dressing a slave so?”
Wulfgar snorted. “Only Gwyneth is rash enough to dare such an inquiry. But what I do with my wealth, whether meager or large, is my own affair since it was my labors which accumulated it. If I chose I could give it all away and she could say naught to me. I owe her nothing nor any other woman.”
Aislinn traced a finger across his hardened chest, following the path of the scar there. “Then I must feel doubly grateful for your generosity since I am, after all, only a woman.”
Wulfgar turned on his side to face her and lifted a curl from her breast. “You are more worthy than most. That you are here with me is proof.”
Aislinn shrugged her lovely shoulders. “But I am still your whore and that title bears no proof of your fondness. What am I to you that other women have not been? I am the same, no more.”
He laughed derisively. “Do you think I would open my purse so freely for another woman even to see her nakedness covered? I have told you in the past my thoughts for the fairer sex. Be honored that I place you above the rest.”
“But, Wulfgar,” she murmured softly. “Wherein does the difference lie? In this gift you give? In others’ eyes I am that and no more.”
He bent to her lips. “I care naught of wagging tongues or what others think,” he said then kissed her, silencing further words from her. He could not resist running a hand down that finely curved back and over a full hip, but Aislinn bit her lip and drew away as his fingers touched the tender spot that remained from Gwyneth’s stroke of the whip. Wulfgar frowned and held her still as he lifted the blanket to view the ugly welt that curved across her hip and buttock. Aislinn could almost feel his anger build.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“A bruise, nothing more, Wulfgar,” she returned lamely. “I but fell—”
He snarled and raised to his knees drawing her up to hold her by the shoulders. “Aislinn, you play me for a fool.” He spoke softly but spit the words out as if they soured his mouth. “I know the mark of a lash when I see it.”
Tears welled in her eyes as their soft violet met his. “You hurt me, Wulfgar.” As his grip relaxed she raised a hand to his chest. “ ’Tis nothing.” She shook her head vigorously. “A pretty squabble now set aright.” She rubbed her hand on his chest and murmured softly, “ ’Twill heal and in time be gone, but spiteful words are never so. Speak no more of it I pray. ’Tis done.”
She drew away from him and stepped from the bed and set about clothing herself while he watched with a puzzled frown. In her he never ceased to find new cause for amazement. A strength, a beauty, a wisdom, her understanding when he himself could scarcely name his mood. A softness grew in him, a yen to hold her close and see that the world would never prick her more. He squelched the feeling quickly.
Bah! Women, he thought. Ever playing the tender heart. I have no need of weakness nor of prattling mouths to ever bind me down.
He rose and stretched and wondered at his recovery.
“Truly, cherie, your cures mend me well. But come, let us be about and see this day out. There is a Yuletide fair and you may view the city as is your wont.”
He reached out and pulled her to him, gathering her close within his arms. He kissed her brow and then her lips and smiled down at her.
“Or better yet,” he murmured huskily. “We will let London view you.”
The morning sun had burned the early mists from the streets when four knights and a lovely maid left the merchant’s manor and strolled leisurely through the streets of the awakening city. They soon came to a broad thoroughfare where the city folk had set their stalls and bid for the attention of wandering lords and ladies with their hawking voices. There were mimes and mummers, some with carved masks who strove to gain an audience and prattled lines of crude jokes. There were groups of acrobats who sailed high in the air from boards. There were venders of sweetmeats and wines and every sort of fare. There were also thieves and cutpurses and tricksters who would hide a pea beneath one of many shells and sought to confuse the eye.
Aislinn’s gay laugh rang as the four Norman knights escorted her through the throng that grew in ever surging numbers. Young smitten lads trailed behind to catch another glimpse of that winsome face and if they pressed too close were met with a darkening scowl from the one who towered full head above them all. They strolled and stopped whenever a trinket or show caught the lady’s eye. Aislinn soon found that she had but to admire a bauble and it would be purchased for her by one of her four guardians. It was Beaufonte who saw her lift a silvered mirror and rushed to her side to lay coin for it and press it into her hand. She had never seen the like of the thing and thanked him for the gift most sincerely. Still she grew cautious at openly displaying interest in such wares.
Sir Gowain’s subtle witticisms were met with giggles of delight from her and Wulfgar’s dry humor added to the revelry. Beaufonte, himself a quiet man, stood back and laughed at their play as Milbourne chortled and repaid twice over Gowain’s playful jibes.
The day was late when Aislinn tugged at Wulfgar’s sleeve and pleaded succor from the crushing mob. They sought a side lane and soon found their haven where Hlynn awaited with a savory repast. A messenger from William had come in their absence with a command for all lords and knights to be present at a Yuletide mass hosted by the King, followed by the presentation of the court and then a feast. Aislinn felt her hopes dashed, for she had anticipated spending another day with Wulfgar before his duties interfered.
When the food was removed they sat awhile around the warming hearth before seeking their beds in preparation of the long day to come. Aislinn found herself again the object of attention from Wulfgar as he brusquely dismissed Hlynn and then with eager fingers sought the fastenings of her clothes himself. She was lifted up in his arms and placed gently in the great
bed, but that Norman knight was sorely pressed to find that he had not yet met the price of her willingness, for though she knew again the ultimate in pleasure, afterwards he stared at the ceiling while she sobbed into her pillow.
Aislinn sat on the bed with her knees drawn up beneath her chin watching Wulfgar as he laid out his raiment for the day. Again he chose the black and red of his colors. He called Sanhurst to prepare him a bath and in deference to Gowain carefully added a touch of sandalwood to cover the hint of lavender that still clung to him.
Aislinn laughed at this last precaution. “If you would share my bath again, my lord,” she said through her mirth, “I will leave the choice of scents to you.”
He grunted and lowered himself in the steaming tub and began to wash.
“Will you be late this eventide, Wulfgar?” Aislinn asked somewhat hesitantly. “Or shall I wait the evening meal for your return?”
He lowered the cloth from his face and peered at her. “My men will dine as is their wont, but knowing these affairs I vow we shall probably be out till a late hour indeed.”
Aislinn sighed in disappointment. “The day will be long without you, Wulfgar.”
He chuckled. “The day will be long for sure, my sweet, but you will spend it at my side.”
Aislinn gasped at his words and rose from the bed, her red hair swirling about her naked form in resplendent disarray. Seeing Wulfgar’s appreciative gaze lower she snatched up a blanket to cover herself and came to stand beside the tub.
“But, Wulfgar, I am Saxon. My place is not there.”
He scrubbed his chest undismayed. “Your place is where I choose to take you. There will be Saxons.” He smiled slowly as he lifted his gaze to hers. “Though to be sure, their loyalty is not as yours. I trust you to use some discretion. You are not a simple maid and can hold your tongue when warranted. As for you being enemy”—he raised a mocking brow—“I would swear I have never found such pleasure with a foe before.”
Aislinn’s cheeks brightened with color. “You are vile,” she returned impatiently.
Wulfgar threw his head back and guffawed his mirth, but Aislinn whirled and strode from him.
“I have never been to court,” she argued. “I could embarrass you.”
He grinned as his eyes consumed her. “The English court is overfilled with stout Saxon dames and it seems that I have met every last one of them—from the giggling lass to the pinch-faced spinster—and had them pressed upon me because I chose to come without a wench upon my arm. Embarrass me? Nay. ‘Twill do them good to witness my standards.”
“But Wulfgar,” she sighed in exasperation. “All the nobility and William himself will be there to see—I have no proper escort. They will know I’m your mistress.”
He snorted. “Because you have no fat dame eyeing your every move?” His eyes smiled at her. “I could say you are my sister.” He lathered the soap up in his hands and shook his head. “Nay, that would not do. They would think something amiss when I look at you and we would only be accused of a greater sin. Nay, ‘tis best we bear with their questioning stares and say naught of what we are.”
Aislinn groaned and tried again. “Wulfgar, I can bear the wait here—”
“But I cannot. I’ll hear no more of it,” he returned sternly. “Prepare yourself.”
By his tone Aislinn knew he would not yield in this matter and in sudden panic realized she wasted valuable time in trying to dissuade him. Flying to the door, she pulled it open and called for Hylnn. Wulfgar sank lower into the tub as the girl quickly answered the summons. He watched in wry amusement as the two of them rushed about the room sorting out what Aislinn would wear and planning the most becoming style for her hair. Finally he caught Aislinn’s eye.
“Cherie, I would not frighten young Hlynn, but should I rise I fear she would tear the door asunder in her haste to leave. The water cools and I have wrinkles to my knees. Could you spare me a moment to end this bath?”
Aislinn sent the young girl out on an errand, and with considerable relief Wulfgar climbed from the tub and resumed his dressing while Aislinn began to comb out her hair.
“I would have you wear the yellow gunna today, Aislinn,” Wulfgar said over his shoulder. “The gown will do you justice.”
“I beg to decline, monseigneur,” she returned and waited as his questioning gaze turned her way. She smiled. “I would save it for another affair.”
Wulfgar seemed somewhat bemused. “What affair is more important then meeting a king?”
Her smile widened into a beguiling grin and she shrugged her shoulders innocently. “I dare not say for what, Wulfgar, but did you not give me leave to choose as I may?”
He nodded. “I would but have you at your best and the color is becoming.”
She rose and came to him, setting her hands upon his bronze chest as she lifted her gaze to his. “There is another gunna I would wear and it is a rich gown.”
Her violet eyes plumbed the depth of his in silent plea. Wulfgar was dazzled by their beauty and found it hard to remember the cause for argument. Aislinn caressed his chest lightly as she waited for his reply and he could only sigh in submission.
“ ’Tis your choice.”
Aislinn threw her arms about his neck and managed to place a kiss upon his cheek while thanking him profusely. Wulfgar scowled and turned away. But some time later when she stood before him adorned in her finery he had cause to silently vow he would not interfere again with her choice of gowns.
The gunna was of a rich creamy hue trimmed about the neck and long flowing sleeves with a silken braid sewn with tiny pearls. The girdle of delicate gold links rode her trim hips with her own jeweled dagger occupying its sheath. Her hair had been woven upon her head into an intricate fashion and twined about with narrow ribbons with a sprinkling of dainty, silk flowers of the off-white color. Her fair face glowed with its own radiance and her eyes against the black of her lashes were clear and sparkling violet.
In all of his rovings Wulfgar could not remember seeing a maid so fetchingly beautiful. For a moment he grew concerned, knowing Ragnor would be there, and he wondered what the day held for them. Perhaps the wisest thing would be to leave her behind, but he did not fancy the thought of long hours apart from her. He admitted to himself he had come to enjoy her companionship and did not grow bored with her as with other women when they were not abed. It was purely a selfish reason he had for taking her with him. He never felt entirely at ease at court. The whining complaints of fat spouses, the treachery of ambitious lords, the roving eyes of cuckolding ladies gave him reason to be ever on his guard. He was more at home on a battlefield, where he knew his enemy and could meet him face to face. With Aislinn’s presence beside him he could find comfort with the day and ease the monotony of the long mass.
At Wulfgar’s continued silence Aislinn turned about in a circle before him, holding her arms wide.
“Do I please you, monseigneur?” she asked.
She missed the glow in his eyes and raised her gaze to his sardonic stare when she again faced him. He folded his arms across his broad chest as he grinned.
“Do you try to weedle praise from me, cherie?”
Aislinn made a face at him. “You are stingy with your words,” she accused, then laughed gayly as she swept around, tossing over her shoulder a roguish look that drew the length of him. “But I am more generous, my lord. You are indeed a fine sight. I do not wonder that you are beset with widows and giggling lasses.”
The mass was indeed long and tiring. They knelt and rose only to kneel again as the archbishop began another prayer. Wulfgar’s gaze repeatedly went to Aislinn and he took pleasure in moments when others did not. The serenity of her slender hands clasped in prayer was soothing to his thoughts. She was quiet and uncomplaining beside him, only raising her head when a prayer ended and dutifully bowing it when another began. Her gaze, when he lent a hand to assist her to her feet, radiated warmth and softness. He marveled at her long-enduring graciousness when later in t
he throne room of the castle they were pressed into a corner by high ranking nobility seeking an introduction. His companions of two nights prior pushed others aside in their haste and with a great display of amiability clapped him on the back while their eyes dwelt mostly on Aislinn. With long suffering patience Wulfgar presented each to her and wore a stoical countenance as they casually let drop their closeness to William, as if to distinguish themselves above the ill-born knight who stood at her side. Aislinn gently withdrew her hand if they were wont to linger over it and answered their inquiries courteously, but with such skillful evasion that only Wulfgar knew she had not told all. He smiled to himself and knew she would be able to hold her own in any court, even William’s.
Her elusive dignity seemed only to arouse further interest from the zealous Normans and many by their regal airs thought to win her favor. It was with considerable relief that Wulfgar heard a command for attention as the King entered and knew that knights and nobility would shortly be presented to him. In their corner Wulfgar felt Aislinn’s slim hand slip into his and he glanced down to find her glowing eyes upon him. For a moment he stared down at her, wanting to say some gentle word of praise for her wisdom with his fellow Normans, but he found that his reserve with women did not lend easily to glibness here. He smiled lamely instead and pressed her hand. Aislinn’s gaze searched his somewhat worriedly.
“My lord, does the day distress you or is it me you find disfavor with?”
He chuckled. “Nay, cherie, I can find fault with neither.”
Aislinn smiled in relief. “You should not scowl so when you are thoughtful, Wulfgar. If I were a maid of lesser heart you would frighten me.”
“Ah, lady,” he sighed. “If you were of a softer mold, mayhap you would come to my bed more willingly.”
Aislinn’s cheeks grew flushed and she glanced quickly about to see what ears might be near to catch their words. Finding none attentive to their exchange, she smiled at Wulfgar sweetly.