sandalwood and lavender. It is nothing like that rank, greasy mess they gave us at Stafford. Use as much as you like, Astra. There is plenty more.”
Astra smoothed the soap over her skin. As she soaped her breasts, she was horrified to observe her nipples harden and thrust out. She glanced at Marguerite and was relieved to see her friend was turned away.
“Your hair needs washing too,” Marguerite noted. “Get it wet and then hang it over the back of the tub so I can soap it.”
Astra obliged, ducking her head under the water. She shivered slightly as the cooler air struck her skin.
Marguerite squeezed the excess moisture from Astra’s hair and rubbed soap through it. Marguerite’s touch was gentle, soothing. Astra felt herself slipping into a peaceful state of relaxation.
“It is a good thing we have all summer to get you ready for court,” Marguerite announced briskly. “Not only must we look to your manners and household skills, but your wardrobe from Stafford is fit for naught but burning. We’ll have to have everything made new—right down to your shifts. It’s a pity that full surcotes are all the fashion at court now. The style is flattering to tall women like myself and the Queen, but a little thing like you is likely to be lost in a heavy, ample gown. You would do better in a fitted bliaut that gives some hint of your figure.”
“I assure you I have no intention of dressing so that men can imagine my form beneath my clothing,” Astra answered stiffly.
“You have left the nunnery behind, Astra,” Marguerite reproved. “Modesty won’t help you catch a husband. My father is right when he says most noblemen seek a wealthy wife. The estate Papa means to gift you with will be respectable, but not extravagant. To attract an appropriate suitor, we must make use of your beauty.”
“Surely a Christian man should be more interested in his wife’s virtue and character than her appearance.”
“Aye, they should . But the truth is that women have been snaring men with their beauty since Eve. How do you suppose the Queen came to be queen? Do you truly think Henry married Eleanor solely for her bloodline and character?”
Astra nodded grimly. Marguerite was right. She had left the nunnery behind, and she must learn to face the unpleasantness of a world ruled by the crude values of men.
“You may be poor in land,” Marguerite continued, “but your wealth in beauty is as great as any woman at court. The knights will be drawn like bees to honey by your angelic features and exquisite coloring. If they were to catch a glimpse of your lovely breasts as well, I imagine some of them would be on their knees proposing in a trice!”
“Marguerite—you’re jesting!” Astra gasped.
“Aye, I am,” Marguerite chuckled. “Still, there is some truth to it. I recall a certain Lady Veronique at Louis’s court who said she had only to undo her gown and let her husband press his face into her generous bosom, and he would willingly gift her with whatever jewels or new gowns she desired.”
Shocked beyond words, Astra slid down in her bath water, frying to hide the objects of their discussion. It did no good. The water wasn’t deep, and her breasts seemed to float, the deep cleft between them plainly visible above the soapy water. For a moment Astra imagined a man’s dark head resting there. The image unleashed a painful ache deep within her.
“Perhaps I should not go to court at all,” Astra murmured. “If men of character tolerate their wives manipulating them in such a disgusting manner, it is clear I am not fit to be a nobleman’s wife. A wife has a duty to endure her husband’s attentions for the sake of producing heirs, but she certainly should not encourage repulsive carnal acts.”
Marguerite’s hands paused for a moment in soaping Astra’s hair. Then they began to tremble as Marguerite indulged herself in a fit of exuberant laughter. When she finally calmed, her voice still bubbled with
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