“Maella, go you to see that Verna has found the other tub and is serving Sir Victor,” she said at last, uncaring of the shrewd look her maidservant flashed at her.
“Aye, my lady. ” Maella reluctantly turned to leave, glancing at the two other maidservants who still assisted her mistress.
No sooner had Maella brushed out the doorway than Allegra found other contrived excuses to send the remaining servants away…and at last she found herself alone with Michael.
He rested comfortably in the tub that had been fashioned to hold a body as large as Merle’s, eyes closed restfully. A wad of soft linen propped his neck up from the rough wooden edge of the oval tub. Allegra knelt, folding his tunic, and watched as steam rose from the water. His fine blond hair was plastered to his neck, and the fine features she’d never forgotten were flushed with the heat. He breathed easily, and she allowed herself the luxury of remembering the warmth of his smooth, muscular chest.
As she watched, one ice blue eye slowly opened and his gaze rested knowingly upon her. “At last,” he murmured as a smile quirked his generous mouth. “I’d given up hope that we should be alone. ”
“Aye,” Allegra breathed, clasping her hands in her lap to keep from stroking a thick lock of hair from his forehead.
His eyes, both fully opened now, greedily looked over his former lover. She knew she was still a very beautiful woman, and when he shifted in the tub, turning slightly to the side she was gratified that his response to her was as obvious and immediate as it had been eighteen years ago. “You’ve not changed much at all, Allegra,” he said quietly.
“Nor have thee. ” Her chest swelled with love and affection, making it quite difficult to breathe.
“Come, soap my back,” he invited, and sat fully upright.
Allegra’s hands trembled as she drew a fine linen cloth from the water and over the large expanse of his back. There were more scars that marred its golden surface, and the ridges of muscle that she remembered were not as pronounced. But it was Michael.
The strong lye soap that was usually used for bathing had been replaced by one of Maris’s specialties: a rosemary basil scented soap. Its minty smell pervaded the air, accented by the steam rising from the scented bathwater. Michael eased back into the tub so that Allegra could massage his hair with the same soap. And when he closed his eyes, she wanted nothing more than to lean over and press a kiss to his lips.
She didn’t speak to him until she was nearly done scrubbing his body. Relearning every area, finding every new scar and marking.
At last she broke the silence. “Michael, did you—did you not know that Merle is my husband? Did you not know whence you came that I would be here?”
He stood at that moment, water cascading down the length of his slim, wiry body. Allegra’s breath caught in her throat, and she turned quickly to retrieve a cloth that had been warming by the fire. As he stepped onto a thick wool rug in front of the fireplace, he spoke, “Aye, my love, I’d hoped to see you again. ”
Her hands, wrapped in the towel, smoothed over his legs and upward to his buttocks. She could not think, could not make sense of what he was doing here….
When she reached his chest, she caressed his shoulders with the towel. “Allegra,” he said softly.
She tilted her head up and his arms suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against his body as he lowered his mouth to hers. With a moan of relief, she dropped the towel and found herself in his embrace. His damp body pressed into her bliaut and left marks at her breasts and thighs, and his arms slid into a taut band around her waist.
She’d felt nothing like this in her years of marriage to Merle. Aye, he’d been patient and slow when he thought she was a virgin, and, aye, he’d been tender with her and passionate during the nights they coupled…but he’d not been able to spark her insides as Michael had ever done.
His hands were on her breasts now, and his mouth left a moist trail on her neck. She felt his need pulsing against her thigh, and her hand slipped to touch him. Suddenly, they were on the floor in front of the fireplace, and she felt his hands moving up her legs. Michael’s weight pressed her head back onto the floor as he kissed her thoroughly. She was raising her hips to him even as he pushed her bliaut up to take two handfuls of bare breast and bring a nipple to his mouth. Allegra nearly screamed at the pleasure of it, her breath coming in small little pants.
At last. At last.
At the urging of his wicked fingers, she spread her legs and suddenly he filled her as he’d done eighteen years earlier. He breathed her name as his fingers threaded through the mass of curls that was her hair. Allegra raked her fingers down the length of his back, gouging his skin when she felt him climax, shuddering against her.
Tears shimmered in her eyes when they opened as he pulled away to sit up moments later. “Michael…I have missed thee so,” she told him.
He didn’t have a chance to answer, for at that moment Maella burst into the room, stopping short at the sight that greeted her. Allegra had rolled to her knees as Michael left her body, but her hair and clothing were disheveled and there were wet marks on her bliaut.
“Aye, Maella?” Allegra asked sharply to hide her guilt. She hadn’t thought to bolt the door, it had all happened so quickly. Her lips tight, she struggled to her feet. Knowing that her maidservant was loyal to her above all gave her the courage to act as if nothing had happened.
“My lord Merle wishes to see you in the hall,” her servant told her pointedly. “He bade me finish bathing Lord d’Arcy and send you to speak with him. ”
“My lord Michael’s tunic and hose rest by the fire,” Allegra said with as much grace as she could muster as she fled the room.
Maella, in turn, gave Michael a hard look as she proceeded to clothe him in silence.
CHAPTER EIGHT
That evening, Maris returned from the village in just enough time to change from an herb stained over tunic to a well laced bliaut of cinnamon colored wool with gold embroidery.