of honor, the duke shook his head
and covered her cup with his hand. Ignoring her glare, he gripped her arm and
drew her to her feet.
“It is time, milady, for you to retire. Your husband will
soon join you.”
“What about you, milord? Will you also join me? Us?” Pulling
free, she swayed a little but steadied when he glared at her.
Unscathed, he rallied. “Do not tempt me, Diane. Do so at
your peril for, although I cherish Adrian’s friendship, it is not so great as
to keep me from what I want.”
Baring her teeth, she murmured, “Touch me again and I’ll
stuff your balls down your throat and pray you choke on them.”
Instead of looking shocked by her threat, he seemed amused.
“After I have filled your juicy quim, I shall not mind,” he said, the truth of
his words shining from his eyes.
She tried to ignore her quim tightening with
excitement rather than dread. With a disdainful sniff, she turned her back on
him.
The Days led her away, moving gracefully despite their
collective bulk. All were near term, all but one expecting her second child by
Arnaud de Vesay. Just looking at their swollen bellies renewed her outrage at
the man responsible—dead or not. He hadn’t cared enough about these women or
his own children to stay safe and come home.
Upon reaching her rooms, the Days reintroduced themselves
and chatted about their children as they removed her clothes. She felt dazed,
as if all this were happening to someone else. When Marget, the woman she’d
seen at the cottage, slid a gown so sheer it hid nothing over Diane’s head, she
gripped the woman’s wrists and clung to the only solid object she could reach.
“Do not worry, m’lady,” Marget soothed, guiding Diane to the
wooden chest at the foot of the bed. “It may hurt a bit at first, but if Adrian
is as skilled a lover as Arnaud…” Seeming truly upset by saying her dead
lover’s name, she gulped a breath. “You shall find great pleasure.”
“Arnaud,” said the youngest-looking Day—Taite, if Diane
remembered correctly, “was hung like a bull.”
“A stallion,” Fenella contradicted, then giggled. The rest
of the Days—Wilda, Tully and Suma—joined in the laughter.
A gentle smile on her face, Marget pressed Diane to sit on
the chest and began to comb out her now-unbraided hair.
Bemused, Diane said, “It’s not the size of Adrian’s sword so
much as how he’ll wield it.” The sudden silence had her scrambling for a reason
she might know such a thing. “Or so I’ve heard.”
Hellfire and damnation! She had no idea if she was
still a virgin in this life or not. And if not, would Adrian notice? And if he
noticed, would he throw her out? And if he did toss her out, would he at least
pleasure her first?
Her jumbled thoughts made her laugh out loud. The Days
looked puzzled but smiled as they continued preparing her and the bed for
Adrian’s arrival. Inhaling, she caught the faint aromas of cloves and nutmeg
rising from the bed along with rosemary-scented rushes strewn over the floor.
Believing them infested with vermin and nest-building rats no matter how fresh,
she would have forgone the rushes. Perhaps once the Days left she could gather
them up and dump them…where? Down the privy hole, where no amount of water
would carry them away? Where the rotten stench would blend with that of shit
and—
On the verge of hysterics, she bent over her knees. Her hair
drooped all around her, reminding her of all the trouble the Days had gone to
trying to make her presentable for her husband.
Straightening, she swept her hair back over her shoulders
and gave Marget an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“No reason to apologize, m’lady. You are nervous—as were we
all the first time.” Drawing the comb through Diane’s hair one last time, she
added, “There now. A more beautiful a bride a man could never hope to find in
his bed.”
“Thank you,” Diane mumbled.
“It is we who thank you. Allowing us to return to the
and covered her cup with his hand. Ignoring her glare, he gripped her arm and
drew her to her feet.
“It is time, milady, for you to retire. Your husband will
soon join you.”
“What about you, milord? Will you also join me? Us?” Pulling
free, she swayed a little but steadied when he glared at her.
Unscathed, he rallied. “Do not tempt me, Diane. Do so at
your peril for, although I cherish Adrian’s friendship, it is not so great as
to keep me from what I want.”
Baring her teeth, she murmured, “Touch me again and I’ll
stuff your balls down your throat and pray you choke on them.”
Instead of looking shocked by her threat, he seemed amused.
“After I have filled your juicy quim, I shall not mind,” he said, the truth of
his words shining from his eyes.
She tried to ignore her quim tightening with
excitement rather than dread. With a disdainful sniff, she turned her back on
him.
The Days led her away, moving gracefully despite their
collective bulk. All were near term, all but one expecting her second child by
Arnaud de Vesay. Just looking at their swollen bellies renewed her outrage at
the man responsible—dead or not. He hadn’t cared enough about these women or
his own children to stay safe and come home.
Upon reaching her rooms, the Days reintroduced themselves
and chatted about their children as they removed her clothes. She felt dazed,
as if all this were happening to someone else. When Marget, the woman she’d
seen at the cottage, slid a gown so sheer it hid nothing over Diane’s head, she
gripped the woman’s wrists and clung to the only solid object she could reach.
“Do not worry, m’lady,” Marget soothed, guiding Diane to the
wooden chest at the foot of the bed. “It may hurt a bit at first, but if Adrian
is as skilled a lover as Arnaud…” Seeming truly upset by saying her dead
lover’s name, she gulped a breath. “You shall find great pleasure.”
“Arnaud,” said the youngest-looking Day—Taite, if Diane
remembered correctly, “was hung like a bull.”
“A stallion,” Fenella contradicted, then giggled. The rest
of the Days—Wilda, Tully and Suma—joined in the laughter.
A gentle smile on her face, Marget pressed Diane to sit on
the chest and began to comb out her now-unbraided hair.
Bemused, Diane said, “It’s not the size of Adrian’s sword so
much as how he’ll wield it.” The sudden silence had her scrambling for a reason
she might know such a thing. “Or so I’ve heard.”
Hellfire and damnation! She had no idea if she was
still a virgin in this life or not. And if not, would Adrian notice? And if he
noticed, would he throw her out? And if he did toss her out, would he at least
pleasure her first?
Her jumbled thoughts made her laugh out loud. The Days
looked puzzled but smiled as they continued preparing her and the bed for
Adrian’s arrival. Inhaling, she caught the faint aromas of cloves and nutmeg
rising from the bed along with rosemary-scented rushes strewn over the floor.
Believing them infested with vermin and nest-building rats no matter how fresh,
she would have forgone the rushes. Perhaps once the Days left she could gather
them up and dump them…where? Down the privy hole, where no amount of water
would carry them away? Where the rotten stench would blend with that of shit
and—
On the verge of hysterics, she bent over her knees. Her hair
drooped all around her, reminding her of all the trouble the Days had gone to
trying to make her presentable for her husband.
Straightening, she swept her hair back over her shoulders
and gave Marget an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“No reason to apologize, m’lady. You are nervous—as were we
all the first time.” Drawing the comb through Diane’s hair one last time, she
added, “There now. A more beautiful a bride a man could never hope to find in
his bed.”
“Thank you,” Diane mumbled.
“It is we who thank you. Allowing us to return to the
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