Read Online The Reckoning - 3 by Sharon Kay Penman - Free Book Online
Authors: Sharon Kay Penman
Tags: Fiction, Historical fiction, General, Historical, History, Medieval, Great Britain, Wales, Wales - History - 1063-1284, Great Britain - History - 13th Century, Llywelyn Ap Gruffydd
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lip rouge, as soft and red as strawberries. He must not do this. But his legs received another message; they took a hesitant step toward the girl on the bed.
She had an expressive face, had been regarding him in puzzlement that was slowly turning into impatience. But then she cried out and clapped her hands together. She had a light, pleasing voice, and her words pattered about him like raindrops, an assault of musical notes.
34
He seized upon a familiar word, the one she kept repeating. Primo. First. He nodded slowly and pointed to the bed. "Si," he said softly, "primo."
Serafina was delighted to have her suspicions confirmed, delighted that she was to be the one to initiate this young inglese into the mysteries of manhood. It was great good luck to bed a virgin. Rising, she came toward him, took his hands in hers. "I know you do not understand fie. But I will teach you all you need to know. You shall find joy in my bA and you shall remember me, English. You shall remember me even when your hair has greyed and your bones ache with age. For a man never forgets his first." Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed Hugh on the mouth, then drew him toward the bed.
When Hugh would later acquire the experience that allowed for comparison, he'd realize how well Bran had chosen for him, how fortunate he was to have found a
Serafina. She was patient and tender and she made him forget the sordidness of their surroundings, forget the fire-and-brimstone sermons of Evesham's parish priest, forget that she was a Sienese whore. They might have been two youngsters out in a meadow, under a haystack, alone in a world whose borders ended at the bed's edge. Serafina was right; she did give him joy and he would remember her.
Hugh was awed by his body's explosive response to Serafina's caresses. He understood for the first time why the Church looked upon women with such suspicion, for lust did indeed allow them to exercise great power over men.
But then he thought of Juliana, risking pregnancy and scandal and damnation for Bran. Mayhap women, too, burned with the same fever. If so, it seemed unfair to blame them for the cravings of men. After a moment, he began to laugh. "I cannot believe that I am lying in your bed and thinking of theology!"
Serafina did not understand a word he said, but she laughed, too, and he bent over, kissed her cheek. They were both very pleased with themselves, Hugh proud of his performance and Serafina proud of her tutoring. She was no less gratified by his attentiveness afterward, for she was accustomed to men who lost interest in the time it took to roll off of her. But Hugh continued to hold her in his arms, to murmur "bella" and "tesora." Men often told her she was pretty, but none had ever called her a "treasure." No man had taken her brush and combed out her long, dark hair, either. She was so delighted with
Hugh's gallantry that when his hand slid from her shoulder to her breast and his mouth sought hers again, she did not rebuff him. Instead, she broke an iron-clad house rule, gave a customer two tumbles for the price of one.
Fetching the wine flagon, Serafina offered Hugh the first swig. "For
35
a man's work, a man's thirst," she said coyly. Hugh accepted the flagon, but when she called him "Barnabas," he burst out laughing again.
"Ah, no, lass, that was a joke! My real name is HughHugh," he repeated, thumping his chest. But she merely giggled. He was still trying to break through their language barrier when a knock sounded on the door. They both stiffened, not yet ready to have the real world intrude, to have Serafina claimed by her next customer.
"Chi e?" she called out warily.
"Sono io." A singularly unhelpful response: it's me. But then the door swung open and Bran entered. His eyes flicked to the clothing strewn wildly about the room, but he kept a straight face as he said, "I thought I'd best look in on you, lad, make sure you were not being held hostage by that conscience of yours."
Hugh did not reply, made mute
She had an expressive face, had been regarding him in puzzlement that was slowly turning into impatience. But then she cried out and clapped her hands together. She had a light, pleasing voice, and her words pattered about him like raindrops, an assault of musical notes.
34
He seized upon a familiar word, the one she kept repeating. Primo. First. He nodded slowly and pointed to the bed. "Si," he said softly, "primo."
Serafina was delighted to have her suspicions confirmed, delighted that she was to be the one to initiate this young inglese into the mysteries of manhood. It was great good luck to bed a virgin. Rising, she came toward him, took his hands in hers. "I know you do not understand fie. But I will teach you all you need to know. You shall find joy in my bA and you shall remember me, English. You shall remember me even when your hair has greyed and your bones ache with age. For a man never forgets his first." Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed Hugh on the mouth, then drew him toward the bed.
When Hugh would later acquire the experience that allowed for comparison, he'd realize how well Bran had chosen for him, how fortunate he was to have found a
Serafina. She was patient and tender and she made him forget the sordidness of their surroundings, forget the fire-and-brimstone sermons of Evesham's parish priest, forget that she was a Sienese whore. They might have been two youngsters out in a meadow, under a haystack, alone in a world whose borders ended at the bed's edge. Serafina was right; she did give him joy and he would remember her.
Hugh was awed by his body's explosive response to Serafina's caresses. He understood for the first time why the Church looked upon women with such suspicion, for lust did indeed allow them to exercise great power over men.
But then he thought of Juliana, risking pregnancy and scandal and damnation for Bran. Mayhap women, too, burned with the same fever. If so, it seemed unfair to blame them for the cravings of men. After a moment, he began to laugh. "I cannot believe that I am lying in your bed and thinking of theology!"
Serafina did not understand a word he said, but she laughed, too, and he bent over, kissed her cheek. They were both very pleased with themselves, Hugh proud of his performance and Serafina proud of her tutoring. She was no less gratified by his attentiveness afterward, for she was accustomed to men who lost interest in the time it took to roll off of her. But Hugh continued to hold her in his arms, to murmur "bella" and "tesora." Men often told her she was pretty, but none had ever called her a "treasure." No man had taken her brush and combed out her long, dark hair, either. She was so delighted with
Hugh's gallantry that when his hand slid from her shoulder to her breast and his mouth sought hers again, she did not rebuff him. Instead, she broke an iron-clad house rule, gave a customer two tumbles for the price of one.
Fetching the wine flagon, Serafina offered Hugh the first swig. "For
35
a man's work, a man's thirst," she said coyly. Hugh accepted the flagon, but when she called him "Barnabas," he burst out laughing again.
"Ah, no, lass, that was a joke! My real name is HughHugh," he repeated, thumping his chest. But she merely giggled. He was still trying to break through their language barrier when a knock sounded on the door. They both stiffened, not yet ready to have the real world intrude, to have Serafina claimed by her next customer.
"Chi e?" she called out warily.
"Sono io." A singularly unhelpful response: it's me. But then the door swung open and Bran entered. His eyes flicked to the clothing strewn wildly about the room, but he kept a straight face as he said, "I thought I'd best look in on you, lad, make sure you were not being held hostage by that conscience of yours."
Hugh did not reply, made mute
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