Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

He smiled at her. “Nay, but I do think you need to relax a bit, my lady. Here.” He handed her a goblet of wine, then poured himself one.

She sipped at the cool sweet wine slowly, wondering vaguely how it slipped down her clogged throat. She felt her face grow warm as she downed a second goblet. Everything seemed softer, her tongue loosened, and she spoke her thoughts aloud. “Why is it important to you that I . . . that I like coupling with you?”

“I do not want my child conceived in fear,” he said, knowing he wasn’t being honest with her.

“Does it matter?”

“To me it does.” He did not want to probe his own reasons, and said abruptly, “Enough wine, Kassia. Get into bed now.”

She obeyed him, forcing herself not to burrow under the covers.

He watched her from the corner of his eye as he quickly undressed. Indeed, he thought, why did it matter what she felt? She was but a woman, and his wife. But it did matter, and for whatever reason, he was pleased that he had thought of a way to ensure her compliance. He saw her face pale when he eased into the bed beside her. She thinks I will savage her now, he thought. He smiled wryly, stretched upon his back, and pillowed his head with his arms. After a moment he asked, “Did Nan do your bidding?”

“Aye, but unwillingly.”

Her reply was barely above a strangled whisper. It was time, he decided, to see if she would hold to the bargain. “Kassia, come here.”

He did not look at her, but felt the bed sink down as she moved toward him. “Now,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at her, “I want you to kiss me.”

Kassia frowned a moment, wondering at him. He hadn’t moved. His hands were still pillowed beneath his head. Slowly she rose on her elbow, leaned down, and quickly pecked him on his mouth.

“Excellent,” he said gravely. Still he did not move. “Now I want you to kiss me again, only this time, part your lips just a bit.”

He felt her warm breath, sweet from the wine, as her lips brushed his mouth again. He looked up into her eyes and smiled. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

She shook her head.

“I want to feel your tongue on my mouth. It will not hurt, I promise you.”

As Kassia, filled with embarrassment and wariness, did as he bid her, she became aware, very slowly, of her body pressed against him. He is so large, she thought vaguely, for the first time feeling his tongue lightly touch hers. She drew back an instant, but as he made no move, joined her tongue with his. It is the wine that is making me feel warm, she thought. She was unaware that her hand now rested on his chest, and her fingers were tentatively winding in his thick mat of hair.

When she raised her head, she was panting slightly, and there was a look of profound worry in her eyes. He wanted to laugh and at the same time to crush her against him, but he did neither. “Again, Kassia,” he said softly.

He allowed her to do just as she wished, and was delighted when she deepened the kiss, her hand now on his shoulder, her fingers digging into his flesh. He felt her soft breasts pressing against his chest, and wondered if he could control himself. Very slowly he brought one hand from beneath his head to rest lightly on her back. He felt her start and draw back, wary again. He began to stroke her soft hair, steeling himself against the raging desire she was raising in him.

He thought he would explode when her hand drifted over his chest, downward to his belly.

“Do you like the way I feel?” he asked her, the words warm in her mouth.

He answer was a small gasp as she whipped her hand away. She did not know why she had wanted to touch him. It was as if her body was no longer taking orders from her mind.

“I . . . I do not mind kiss

ing you,” she managed after a breathless moment.

“I am pleased,” he said, hearing the rough huskiness in his voice. St. Peter’s bones, he thought, barely stifling a groan, this was a torture he could never have imagined.

She was kissing his chin now, her fingers sliding beneath his head to bring him closer to her.

When she made another foray into his mouth, he felt her quiver when his tongue touched hers. Her bare thigh was rubbing lightly against his, and he could feel her tentative urgency. If he allowed her to continue, he knew that he would lose control.

He gently brought his other hand down and clasped her shoulder, pushing her away from him. “You have done well,” he said, looking closely into her vague eyes. “Go to sleep now, Kassia.”

She stared at him stupidly, aware of the coiling heat in her belly, aware that her breasts felt tingly and swollen, aware that she did not want to stop what she was doing. “I . . . I don’t understand,” she gasped.

“Go to sleep,” he repeated. He pushed her gently away from him and rolled over onto his stomach, his head turned away from her. He knew that she had not moved. He smiled painfully, and added quietly, “I want you to take off your bedrobe. When you become cold during the night, I want you to come to me for warmth. Good night, wife.”

Kassia’s numbed fingers pulled at the belt, flinging it away from her. She slipped out of the bedrobe, and with a deep, confused sigh, curled up on her side. “I will never understand you,” she said into the darkness.