Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

He gently drew her hand down between them and let her feel his fingers caressing her. Her embarrassment was a brief illusion. “Feel how you want me,” he murmured softly against her lips.

She moaned in his mouth and felt him smile. She moved her fingers away from his grasp and touched him. At his sharp indrawn breath, she smiled. “I feel how you want me, my lord.”

34

They walked together in the gentle sunlight, Graelam’s arm about his wife’s waist, his head lowered to hear her speak.

“Graelam, my father knew! He looked at me so oddly this morning!”

Graelam chuckled. “At least he did not believe that I was holding you in your bedchamber, thrashing you. The glo

wing smile on your face testified to my innocence.”

“Speaking of smiles, did you see how Rolfe looked at us? And the rest of the men?”

“Aye, they are most pleased, and relieved that I am no longer a braying ass.”

Her eyes twinkled at him, and her dimples deepened. “Aye, my lord, as am I!”

Graelam was silent for a moment, his gaze resting thoughtfully on the bare-branched trees in Belleterre’s orchard. “I wish to tell you something, Kassia.”

She tensed at his tone, and he felt it. “Nay, love, ’tis not a bad thing, but a confession of sorts. I wish there only to be truth between us.” He paused a moment, then lifted her in his arms and kissed her soundly on the mouth. “That is to assure you that my feelings have not changed and never will.”

She wrapped her arms about his neck and pressed herself against him. “I need no confession, my lord.”

He set her down. “Nay, little wench. Listen to me. When I left Wolffeton to visit the Duke of Cornwall, many things became clear to me. I will admit to you that the duke, the interfering old goat, did call me a fool whilst we spoke of you. But he did speak the truth. To love a woman well, to yield to her, does not weaken a man. It has been a difficult truth for me to accept, but accept it I did. When I returned to Wolffeton, I intended to tell you of what I felt for you. But you were gone.

“Two nights ago I was lying in my tent, as miserable as a man can be, when Dienwald de Fortenberry entered. When he told me who he was, I was ready to break his neck. He told me, Kassia, that he owed you a debt, and to pay it meant he must speak the truth to me. We parted friends, my love. No, do not draw away from me. Had he told me that you had hired him a dozen times to remove you from my hold, it would have changed naught. You see, it no longer mattered. It was up to you to forgive me my distrust, my blind conceit, not the other way around. So you see, Dienwald or no Dienwald, it made no difference in my feelings for you.”

Graelam chuckled softly. “I think he would have liked to return that damned necklace to me.”

“He has been kind to me, Graelam,” Kassia said, “and I hoped that when Sir Walter brought him to Wolffeton, he would tell you the truth then. I released him only to spare him pain. But he had to escape. He felt very guilty about it, I think.”

“He did indeed. Do you believe me, Kassia? Believe that I did not change my feelings for you because of his words?”

“I believe you, my lord.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, if I could see Blanche. How I should love to sever her tongue!”

“Why not ask her and Guy to visit Wolffeton? You can then challenge her to an archery match.”

She giggled, and because she was so happy, threw her arms about his waist, squeezing him with all her strength.

“Attacked by a fly,” Graelam said, leaning down to nibble at her ear. “Ah, my love, I see your father eyeing us. Shall we assure him that I am not coercing you?”

Geoffrey could scarce credit his man’s words. Graelam de Moreton, his enemy, the only man who stood between him and Belleterre, was in Brittany! Over the past months he had ground his teeth in frustration, especially when it had become clear to him that to assassinate Graelam in Cornwall was a plan doomed to failure. The man was always too well-protected, his men too loyal. But now he was here, and with but a dozen men guarding him.

Geoffrey knew every hillock in Brittany, every likely spot for an ambush. He wondered idly if Kassia would care if he butchered her husband. If she did, it would take him a bit more time to bring her around. If she threatened to denounce him, he would simply lock her away and beat her, for he would force her to wed him immediately. He smiled at the thought. His proud little cousin would not long berate him. He was, after all, a man who knew women well. They were simple and easily led.

He rode purposefully away from his keep, wanting to avoid his mother. He had not seen her for many weeks now, having just returned from the court in Paris, for her acerbic tongue was enough to drive any man to distraction. She would change her stance once Kassia was his wife, and Belleterre would be his after his uncle had died.

Graelam and Kassia left Belleterre three days later. Early-spring weather blessed their journey, a sign, Graelam assured Kassia, straight from the Duke of Cornwall. That wily old man believed he had the direct ear of the Lord Almighty.

“Mayhap Papa also talks into that same ear,” Kassia said. “I have never seen him so pleased!”

“Do not forget your winsome stepmother. I vow it was her influence that kept your father from beating down your bedchamber door that first evening I arrived. Aye, a wise woman. She doubtless recognized me as your proper master, and knew you would succumb quickly enough to me.”

“Conceited brute!” Kassia said in high good humor.

“I was forced to tell her that you would not allow me out of your bed,” Graelam continued in great seriousness. “Likely she was concerned that your woman’s appetites would exhaust me.”