Medieval Brides. Anne Herries

      The loft ladder creaked, and Adam’s footsteps sounded on the landing outside.

      Alert for the sound of her husband lifting the latch, Cecily quickly peeled off her gown and underskirt and dragged a cream linen nightgown over her head. The nightgown had miraculously appeared in her mother’s clothes chest some time during the day. There had been no trace of it immediately after her wedding. Gudrun, she was sure, must have hidden it. Gripped by a shyness that years of convent life had bred into her, Cecily’s fingers became thumbs. She wanted to be safely under the bedclothes when Adam came in. Her heart thudded.

      Would he want to do that again? She had no idea how often married people did that, except…A vague memory surfaced—one of the novices giggling as she recited the list of days when married people were permitted to have carnal relations. There were not very many of them. They could not do…that…on Sundays, they could not do it on a Saint’s day, they could not do it on Fridays, nor in Lent…In fact, according to Mother Aethelflaeda’s calendar there were not many days when carnal relations were allowed, so she was probably not going to be called upon to perform her marital duties again tonight. Conscious of a vague sense of disappointment, Cecily frowned.

      The latch lifted. She had not finished tying her neck fastenings. With a small squeak she dived into the bed, sat up, and wrestled with the ribbons.

      Adam came in with a smile and latched the door. Heeling off his boots, he kicked them into the corner. His hand hovered over the wine jug. ‘Wine, Princess?’

      ‘N-no, thank you.’

      He waved at the poker propped up against one of the braziers. ‘I can mull it, if you’d prefer?’

      ‘No, thank you. I had enough earlier.’

      Adam grunted, and started to strip. Cecily sat, loose plait over one shoulder, and watched him out of the corner of her eye, half-curious, half-embarrassed. He did not have a shy bone in his body. His belt followed his boots into the corner, his tunic was tossed onto a hook and then his shirt. The bed shifted as, naked to the waist, he sat to unwind his leg-bindings.

      The sight of so much naked male skin had curls of nervous excitement winding in her belly. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch, to see if he felt as warm and smooth as he had last night when, apart from the dim glow of the braziers, they had both been cloaked with darkness.

      Throat dry as dust, she swallowed. Might he want her again? Perhaps a cup of mulled wine had not been such a bad idea? she thought, shooting another covert glance at her husband’s bare back. The muscles there flexed in the most fascinating manner. His shoulders were so wide, and the way his back narrowed down to his waist…Why, even his back pleases my eyes, she realised, startled. His hair was glossy in the candlelight, dark as a raven’s wing. His neck still looked vulnerable to her, used as she was to men who wore their hair long, in the Saxon fashion.

      Adam turned, caught her watching him, and a dark eyebrow arched upwards. The scattering of hairs on his chest was dark and ran down—ran down to…What did he look like there?

      ‘Cecily?’

      Cheeks burning, she wrenched her gaze up and caught the tail-end of a grin. ‘Mmm?’

      Leaning towards her, he took up her braid and idly began to unplait it. ‘I ride for Winchester with Richard in the morning. I’ll leave young Brian in charge of the men, and I plan to be back well before nightfall. Are you happy to rest here for the day?’

      ‘Of course.’

      He fanned her hair out over her shoulders, warm fingers lingering on her breasts. Her nipples tightened. Oh, no, it looked as though Adam Wymark was going to want to do…that all over again. How shocking. She swallowed. When he repeated the movement, cupping her breasts through the linen nightgown, a pleasant ache started in her belly. Oh, yes! So it had been last night, she thought, holding back a moan. How did he do that? Carnal love. He was very skilled at it. And truly Mother Aethelflaeda would be disgusted with her response. So wanton. She felt hot all over. And she was sure today was not a day that was approved for doing…that…

      ‘That’s good,’ Adam said, clearing his throat and continuing with his gentle caresses until her nipples felt as though they were going to burst free of the gown. He was touching her, and her body was straining towards him, greedy for more. ‘Very good.’

      Fingers under her chin, he brought his head to hers and their lips met in a lingering kiss. The moan escaped her and Adam drew back, his hand going to the tie of his chausses.

      ‘Wait! Adam, you forgot the candles!’

      Eyes immediately guarded, he gave her one of his lop-sided smiles. ‘The candles—of course. How could I forget?’ He pinched out his candle; she pinched out hers. Around the bed the darkness thickened, save for the glowing braziers. ‘Better, Princess?’ She heard a quiet sigh.

      ‘Y-yes. I’m sorry, Adam.’

      His body met hers, warm and welcoming, and Cecily melted. He had the power to turn her bones to water. Carnal love. Why had no one thought to tell her how exquisite it could be? And on a forbidden day too.

      ‘No matter,’ he said, skimming his hand down her flank as she fell back into the pillows, helpless with sinful longing and guilty delight. Utterly reprehensible. He twitched at her nightgown. ‘But, since you are trying to hide in the dark, this can come off.’

      ‘Yes, Adam.’ She raised her arms to help him. ‘I did not think you would want me tonight.’

      ‘Not want you?’ Hand on her gown, he stilled. ‘Why on earth not?’

      ‘It is not one of the approved days. Mother Aethelflaeda had a calendar—’

      ‘A calendar? Dear God! Cecily, I will not permit that woman to poison what we have. If we want each other, we will have each other. Do you understand?’

      ‘Yes, Adam.’ If we want each other, he had said. Not If I want you, but we. Her heart swelled.

      ‘One day, Princess. One day.’

      ‘Adam?’

      The nightgown was being drawn over her head and muffled his answer. ‘One day we will make love naked, in broad day. We will hide nothing.’

      ‘Adam…’

      ‘But in the meantime…’ Shifting over her, he gently bit her neck. ‘In the meantime…’

       Chapter Seventeen

      ‘Matty? Matty!’

      Gudrun, Cecily thought sleepily, has the voice of a trumpet when she chooses. She rolled over, buried her nose in Adam’s pillow, and breathed in his scent. Last night, after they had done that not just once but twice, Adam had muttered something about not wishing her to catch a chill and pulled her nightgown back over her head. She had fallen asleep in his arms, but this morning he was gone—to Winchester, apparently. She inhaled deeply. Adam. She would get up in a moment, truly she would. She only wanted to doze on his pillow for a couple more minutes, recapturing…

      ‘Not got him!’ Down in the hall, Gudrun’s voice rose to a wail. ‘Saints, where is he? He can’t have walked!’