laughter, as Emma paused indecisively,
trying to work that out. But she did not wait for the girl’s slow processes of
thought to come to a conclusion. She drew William into the room she had chosen
and shut the door.
“What the devil is wrong with you, Elizabeth?” William
snarled when they were alone.
“There is nothing wrong with me. I am in excellent health,”
she replied mischievously.
This room was better lit than the hall, and William had to
struggle with his breathing again. Elizabeth watched him with a twinkle in her
large, misty green eyes, a strange color like shallow water over pale golden
sand. Her nose was a little too long, her mouth too wide for her thin face. She
looked more like a naughty elf than a fairy princess. Her complexion was of the
earth also, a warm brunette, and her hair of a nondescript brown, was very fine
textured and curly. It was mostly hidden by her wimple now, but little ends had
escaped here and there and curled deliciously around her face and forehead.
“Perhaps you cannot drive that creature out,” William said
in a constricted voice, “but there is no reason for you to treat her with
courtesy nor to endure her attempts to usurp your place.”
Dear William , Elizabeth thought, he always does
exactly the right thing . Mauger had always had a woman or two in the keep
but the others had been clever enough to keep out of the way. Emma was simply
too stupid to do so. It did not mean anything, Elizabeth knew that.
Nonetheless, the open exposure of the thing was painful, shameful. William’s
fury had turned it funny, although there was nothing funny about the emotion
that fueled his rage.
“She cannot usurp my place,” Elizabeth replied. “You know
that is not Mauger’s intention.” She paused, watching William’s face, and then
added softly, “Why should I not be courteous to her? She does me a great
service.”
For a moment William stood and stared at her without
answering. For ten years they had met frequently, sometimes they had been quite
alone, as now, yet in all that time no single personal word had passed between
them. Of course, William had never before been greeted by Mauger’s whore,
acting as if she were the lady of the keep, either. William understood that his
rage on Elizabeth’s behalf had broken through some wall of reserve she had
built. It had driven her into making a clear statement of her own feelings
about her husband. It was dangerous, horribly dangerous, but William did not
care.
“It is disgusting,” he said, his voice shaking. “He could at
least keep her in the village.”
Having already said too much, Elizabeth threw all caution and
reason to the wind. “But Mauger likes his comfort. If it should be a chilly or
wet night, he would not wish to ride out, and then… No! I prefer to have Emma
here.”
Knowing he was mad and that he would bring his world
crashing down around his ears, William took a step forward and pulled Elizabeth
into his arms. He almost expected her to cry out or push him away, but she did
not resist, allowing her head to fall back so that he could kiss her. And her
mouth was as sweet, as warm and willing as it had been twenty years ago.
Completely lost, heeding now only the siren song of his long love, William
devoured her face, kissing eyes, cheeks, chin, and returning to her lips
between. Elizabeth was no passive partner. Her mouth opened under his, inviting
the invasion of his tongue, and she clutched him with one arm while she ran her
other over his neck and shoulders, down his back, as if she wanted all of him
included in the caress.
After a time, William pulled his mouth free. “Come to me,
Elizabeth,” he begged. “I will honor you as you deserve, I will—”
She put a shaking hand gently over his mouth. “You are
asking me to play Emma’s role in your home.”
“I have no wife,” he cried.
“You have a daughter. Should I ask Alys to give countenance
to such a thing? Should you?”
“I love
trying to work that out. But she did not wait for the girl’s slow processes of
thought to come to a conclusion. She drew William into the room she had chosen
and shut the door.
“What the devil is wrong with you, Elizabeth?” William
snarled when they were alone.
“There is nothing wrong with me. I am in excellent health,”
she replied mischievously.
This room was better lit than the hall, and William had to
struggle with his breathing again. Elizabeth watched him with a twinkle in her
large, misty green eyes, a strange color like shallow water over pale golden
sand. Her nose was a little too long, her mouth too wide for her thin face. She
looked more like a naughty elf than a fairy princess. Her complexion was of the
earth also, a warm brunette, and her hair of a nondescript brown, was very fine
textured and curly. It was mostly hidden by her wimple now, but little ends had
escaped here and there and curled deliciously around her face and forehead.
“Perhaps you cannot drive that creature out,” William said
in a constricted voice, “but there is no reason for you to treat her with
courtesy nor to endure her attempts to usurp your place.”
Dear William , Elizabeth thought, he always does
exactly the right thing . Mauger had always had a woman or two in the keep
but the others had been clever enough to keep out of the way. Emma was simply
too stupid to do so. It did not mean anything, Elizabeth knew that.
Nonetheless, the open exposure of the thing was painful, shameful. William’s
fury had turned it funny, although there was nothing funny about the emotion
that fueled his rage.
“She cannot usurp my place,” Elizabeth replied. “You know
that is not Mauger’s intention.” She paused, watching William’s face, and then
added softly, “Why should I not be courteous to her? She does me a great
service.”
For a moment William stood and stared at her without
answering. For ten years they had met frequently, sometimes they had been quite
alone, as now, yet in all that time no single personal word had passed between
them. Of course, William had never before been greeted by Mauger’s whore,
acting as if she were the lady of the keep, either. William understood that his
rage on Elizabeth’s behalf had broken through some wall of reserve she had
built. It had driven her into making a clear statement of her own feelings
about her husband. It was dangerous, horribly dangerous, but William did not
care.
“It is disgusting,” he said, his voice shaking. “He could at
least keep her in the village.”
Having already said too much, Elizabeth threw all caution and
reason to the wind. “But Mauger likes his comfort. If it should be a chilly or
wet night, he would not wish to ride out, and then… No! I prefer to have Emma
here.”
Knowing he was mad and that he would bring his world
crashing down around his ears, William took a step forward and pulled Elizabeth
into his arms. He almost expected her to cry out or push him away, but she did
not resist, allowing her head to fall back so that he could kiss her. And her
mouth was as sweet, as warm and willing as it had been twenty years ago.
Completely lost, heeding now only the siren song of his long love, William
devoured her face, kissing eyes, cheeks, chin, and returning to her lips
between. Elizabeth was no passive partner. Her mouth opened under his, inviting
the invasion of his tongue, and she clutched him with one arm while she ran her
other over his neck and shoulders, down his back, as if she wanted all of him
included in the caress.
After a time, William pulled his mouth free. “Come to me,
Elizabeth,” he begged. “I will honor you as you deserve, I will—”
She put a shaking hand gently over his mouth. “You are
asking me to play Emma’s role in your home.”
“I have no wife,” he cried.
“You have a daughter. Should I ask Alys to give countenance
to such a thing? Should you?”
“I love
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