I held it in. I did not let the people see the state I felt inside.
At night I began to pray for my husband.
*****
Sunniva convinced me to stay in the Women’s Room during my bleeding just to keep with the tradition though I was not required to do so with Branford away. The days there passed even more slowly as I hid my disappointment, for I would have been quite grateful to discover that Branford’s child grew inside of me. I had thought of what it would have been like to be able to tell him of an expected child when he returned, but it was not to be. I thought of all the times Branford had not returned to our bed at night when he had been consumed with the impending battles. If he had been with me, perhaps a child would have started to grow.
The day after I returned to my own rooms, Janet was there, filling the bath with hot water from the kettle. I finally allowed her to coax me into the tub. Janet poured water over my head as I sat in the person-sized bathtub in the bedroom. I had never even taken such a bath, but apparently, Sunniva advised it. I assumed her words to be more of an order than a suggestion.
I leaned back and tried to relax in the warm water as Janet washed my hair. I had not yet before this evening even thought of using the person-sized leather tub for bathing while Branford was away, and I had to admit it definitely had its advantages. It was obviously made with Branford in mind, and there was plenty of room for me to stretch out my legs and just let the warm water flow over me. I breathed in the deep, lavender scent from the herbs Janet had added to the water and tried not to think.
It was difficult.
It had been so long since Branford and his army had left for Hadebrand. There had been a messenger who brought news to Camden of the war’s progress nearly every day, though I was not privy to all the information. Camden would hear the messenger’s report first and would then speak with Sunniva, Ida, and me. I was quite sure we did not hear everything he did, but what we did hear was bad enough.
Hadebrand’s army outnumbered Branford’s two to one, and even though Branford’s men were skilled, many had been lost in the three battles that had commenced since the beginning. At the time of the last report, both Parnell and Branford were without great injury.
Janet poured more water over my head, and I closed my eyes. The warm water felt good, but all I could really think about was how I now wanted to have Branford back so I could bathe him here. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathed deeply, and tried to pull myself together. Janet finished rinsing me and then helped me out of the bath. She brought forth a soft cloth to dry me and then helped me into my dressing gown. I dismissed her soon after, preferring my solitude.
I rubbed the top of Amarra’s head as I stared at the fire, passing what I hoped would be enough time to allow me to sleep. When I felt so exhausted I could barely see the embers, I finally moved myself to the bed.
The evening was stiflingly hot, and there was little breeze from the window. I wrapped my hair up around my hand and lay it out against the pillow to try to cool myself off. It did not truly help or at least not significantly. I pushed the sheets away and rolled over, closing my eyes tightly until sleep finally came, however briefly.
I woke abruptly.
The fire had gone out, but the heat of the summer night was still nearly choking me. The warmth
would have made it difficult to sleep under the best of conditions, and in my mental state, I had only dozed off and on through the first part of the night. I could hear Amarra getting off of her raised cushion to opt instead for the coolness of the floor near the morning room.
I dozed for a short time.
My head felt strange, and I had no ability to focus as I was roused unexpectedly from sleep yet again. I felt movement on the bed, and for a moment, I thought Amarra had actually jumped up to the mattress. I could not see anything in the deep black of the moonless night, but whatever was sitting beside me was much larger than the dog. I felt deft fingers brush against my arm, and I gasped in a breath in order to scream.
“Shh, shh, shh!” A voice called out, and I felt a hand cover my lips, pressing down. “Do not cry out, my beautiful wife.”
“Branford?” My dreams had become so real now, I could hardly tell the difference, for I was sure the hands on me belonged to my husband, but how could it be so?
“Yes.” His fingers released my lips, and both hands coiled around my back. I inhaled his scent, heavy and comforting.
“Branford!” I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, realizing I was not dreaming. “Branford, are you really here?”
“Yes, my wife.” He lay down beside me, and I moved close to him. I reached up and stroked his cheek as he laid his head atop mine.
“Is it over?” I asked tentatively. His hair, grown longer since I had seen him last, brushed my cheek as he shook his head.
“I needed to see you…to know for myself that you are all right. The messenger’s information was too vague.” His hands traveled my body as if taking inventory. He paused as his fingers brushed over my sides. “You are not eating enough.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my face into his neck.
“I am trying, my…Branford,” I told him. He pulled me away from his skin and kissed me softly. I placed my hands on his shoulders, and I gripped the chainmail shirt he wore over the leather armor covering his body. I wondered again if I was dreaming, but if so, it was a dream made of the most real sensations.
“I have missed you so much,” he whispered against the flesh at my neck. He opened his mouth and tasted my skin. His hot breath covered my face as his hands covered my body. “You smell so good…like the lavender bushes in the garden. Please…Alexandra…I need you.”
“Yes,” I said with a nod, and his hands grasped the hem of my nightdress, ridding me of it quickly. I heard the clink of his mail shirt as he dropped it off the side of the bed, and a moment later felt him pressed close against me, the warmth of his skin enveloping me as his mouth crashed to mine. He slid his hand down my arm, over my waist, and to my leg before he brought his fingers around to the inside of my thigh. He nudged my legs apart, and his fingers searched and discovered.
Branford drew the moisture from my body with his fingers, using it to coat me between my legs and up to the tiny spot he knew so well. His fingers circled it, moistening the flesh before they reached back inside of me, and his thumb pressed and rubbed. He sucked gently at my neck as his fingers pumped inside of me, curling back suddenly as he pressed again with his thumb.
“Branford! Branford!”