Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

“True, you are my wife. Surely the sight of my body will not surprise you or offend you.”

She felt a wave of

heat suffuse her face. It had been so long. She cursed him silently for teaching her passion. Then she dropped to her knees and untied his cross-garters. He pulled off his chaussures and stood naked in front of her. He did not move to cover himself when two serving girls entered, bearing buckets of hot water.

I will not look at him, Kassia swore to herself. She watched the tub filled with steaming water. When he stepped into the tub, she tossed him a bar of lavender-scented soap.

Graelam did not appear to notice the gentle scent. He leaned back in the tub and closed his eyes. “Ah,” he sighed, beginning to rub the soap over his broad chest, his eyes still closed. “You have led me a merry chase, Kassia.”

She said over her shoulder, still not looking at him, “Nay, my lord. I did nothing but leave a most unhappy situation.”

“With Dienwald de Fortenberry,” he added mildly.

“Why not?” she flung at him. “After all,” she continued in a snide voice, “he has helped me on previous occasions. Surely you cannot doubt our . . . devotion to each other.”

“I certainly do not doubt his devotion to you.”

“Then why are you here?” she snapped. “I have proved to you that I am not trustworthy, that I have no honor, indeed, that I have lied to you from the very beginning.”

“I suppose I could regard it in such a light.”

He was toying with her! She gritted her teeth. “I will not return with you, Graelam. I will no more suffer your foul humor and your indifference to me. I will not play brood mare to your stallion.”

Graelam opened one eye and regarded her flushed face. “But, my dear wife, you have not yet proved to me that you can even fulfill that role.”

She sucked in her breath in fury. “I have no intention of playing any role for you, my lord! And you cannot force me. My father will protect me!”

“I imagine that Maurice would,” Graelam said lazily. He began to lather his hair, as if he had no other concern in the world.

“I repeat, my lord, why are you here?”

He did not reply, merely continued washing his hair, then rinsing it, cupping his hands in the hot water, and splashing it liberally. He shook his head, sending droplets of water flying toward her, then asked, “Will you scrub my back, Kassia?”

“No! Your dirt is your own, my lord. I will have nothing to do with it.”

He sighed. “You left Wolffeton in something of an uproar, my lady. Your nurse was so noisy in her tears that she could only hand me your message to her. As for yours to me . . .” He shrugged. “Well, it made me want to thrash you, but very gently.”

“You will not touch me, my lord!”

He cocked a thick wet brow at her. “I would not be too certain of that, Kassia.”

Before she could frame a reply, he rose in the tub, and her unruly eyes coursed down his body. She gulped, for his manhood was swollen. She whirled about, clutching her arms over her breasts.

“You are quite beautiful,” she heard him say softly behind her. “I have found that more generously endowed women no longer appeal to me.” She felt his fingers touch her hair. “So soft. You will give me a daughter, Kassia, endowed with your beauty.”

“Stop it! Please, Graelam, I do not want—”

His arms closed around her, and he gently drew her back against his chest. His powerful arms prevented any escape. She stood stiffly, willing herself not to succumb. He did not love her. She was a woman, and he merely wanted her as such.

“Release me, my lord.”

He did, much to her bemused disappointment. “Have you a bedrobe for me, Kassia?”

She shook her head mutely.

“No matter. I am weary, wife, and wish to rest for a while.” He took her arm firmly and drew her toward the bed.

“I will not let you take me, Graelam,” she spat at him. “It will have to be by force. But then again, you are quite uncaring of how you take a woman.”