When he only grinned at her, she pummeled his shoulder. “Graelam, tell me! What has happened?”
“It seems your Aunt Felice and Joanna have formed something of an alliance. Geoffrey, a bridegroom of only three months, has fled to Paris to escape their plans to improve him.”
Kassia’s merry laughter filled the chamber. “I can almost feel pity for him. Poor Geoffrey!”
“Well, he did not leave until he got Joanna with child. At least he did something that must please that mother of his.”
“Speaking of children, when will we see Guy’s son?”
“Soon, I expect. Unfortunately, Blanche will not accompany him for she is breeding again.” Graelam sighed deeply. “Such an accommodating, submissive woman. So gentle and understanding of her master’s needs and wants.”
Kassia eyed him severely, but humor lurked in her eyes, for it was a jest of long standing between them. “Aye, you may keep nurturing that illusion, Graelam, though it crumbles so easily at but a touch or at the smallest word.”
As she spoke, he gently cupped his hand under her breast, weighing its heaviness. “Did I tell you how beautiful you are, Kassia?”
“Not since yesterday, I think. But—”
She grew silent yet again as her husband pulled down her shift, lowered his head, and gently suckled at her breast. She felt a ripple of pleasure that brought a delicate flush to her face.
She caressed her fingers through his thick hair and held him close. He raised his head and stared at her for a long moment. “I cannot believe,” he said in a thick voice, “that my greedy son received as much pleasure from his mother as I just did. Your milk is warm and sweet, like the rest of you.”
“I pray you will always feel thus, my lord,” she said, her voice breathless.
“I think it likely, my lady. Very likely.”