A True and Perfect Knight Read online

  “Oh.” She hesitated.

  He could imagine her blushing.

  “But what of Gwyneth?”

  “Gwyneth is asleep. And since we shall sleep too, I do not see that Gwyneth is a problem.”

  “But…”

  “But what, wife?” His eyes searched her face in the dim light cast from the brazier.

  “Nothing.” She shifted, placing herself under the covers and stretching along his side. “Nothing at all. Good night, husband.”

  It was progress, he told himself. Content, but far from satisfied, Haven folded his arms under his head and closed his eyes. “Good night, wife.”

  Gennie slapped a sodden shirt against a rock and pretended it was her husband’s head. The man was torturing her. During the day he was cranky and cross. Gwyneth decreed that Haven should not rise until all trace of pain disappeared. Haven argued with her, each then enlisting Gennie’s support. Gennie fled, taking refuge in chores that, as lady of the keep, she didn’t have to do. Today it was the wash.

  But the nights were worse. At night Haven would shift and sigh, utter an occasional moan and shift again, until Gennie was forced from her bed to discover what ailed him. He would insist that he could not sleep without her near. She would lie down beside him, and they would both fall sleep. If that had been all, she might have tolerated it.

  Two days ago, she had woken to the stroke of his fingers across her breast. She had elbowed him. He had grunted and turned over. The next night it had been her fingers that had wandered. Haven’s groans had awakened her, and she had snatched her hand away from their intimate clasp. This morning the heat from his hips pressing against her bottom had burned sleep away. He had been snoring. How her gown had twisted above her waist, she didn’t know. But she remained awake until he shifted in his sleep.

  Thank heaven for Gwyneth’s presence, or Gennie might have given in to temptation and had her way with her husband. What kind of woman was she? The man had not yet left his sickbed. If she succumbed to her baser urges, he might not leave it for another se’enight.

  Was this what Father Jonas meant when he said that one purpose of lust was to strengthen the bond of marriage begun with the vows into a love that would last a lifetime? How could that be, if Haven did not love her? Even if she did love him, he had denied any love for her. Shouted it in his delirium. Yet he still wanted her in his bed.

  And what of her own unspoken fear that Haven would one day betray her as he had Roger? Were her husband forced to choose between wife and knightly duty, which would he pick?

  Mayhap she should sleep in the other gate tower chamber with her sister-in-law and son. Doing so would certainly protect her heart, even while her body might ache for Haven’s touch. Although not fully recovered, Haven was much better now. He hardly needed both herself and Gwyneth keeping watch over him at night. Yes, that would be best.

  She rose, leaving the remainder of the laundry to the Welsh women. They had come with their husbands, fathers and brothers when, at Gennie’s request, Gwyneth had spread the word that work could be found at Two Hills Keep. She nodded and called a farewell to the women, who nodded and smiled back.

  She dawdled on her way back to the gatehouse. She had decided the right course, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to put it in place. She played with Thomas and Caesar. Consulted with Rene on the state of supplies for the winter, listened to Soames, Owain and Pwyll report on their progress. Pwyll was quite pleased. Due to the extra laborers, the repairs making the keep habitable would be complete next week. Then he could concentrate on the improvements. Soames and Owain too seemed optimistic about their projects, and reported frequently to Haven.

  Dark descended and Gennie could delay no longer. She took the tray with Haven’s dinner upon it and climbed to their room. She entered the room and set the food beside Haven’s bed. He was sleeping, and she didn’t want to wake him, so she went to the corner where she kept her few things. Determined, she rolled up her sleeves, knelt and folded her belongings. She lingered a moment, stroking the soft wool of the blue cloak Haven had given her as a wedding present. She shook her head, then stood with the pile of clothing and turned to take them across to the other chamber.

  “What are you doing, Gennie?”

  Haven’s voice brought her to a halt.

  “I had thought you asleep.”

  “I was.”

  “If my work disturbed you, I am sorry.”

  “Nay, ’twas not your work. You were most quiet.”

  “What then?”

  “The scent of lavender.”

  She smiled. “That is ridiculous. Flowers don’t wake anyone from sleep. In fact, lavender is known for its soothing properties.”

  “I do not find it so.”

  “I am sorry. I will cease to wear the scent.”

  “Nay. I insist you wear it always.”

  “But you dislike it.”

  “I said it did not soothe me. I did not say I dislike it.”

  “Very well.” Gennie shook her head at his nonsense and moved toward the doorway.

  “Do not go.”

  “I must put these things in the other chamber.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you no longer need two nurses at night.”

  “But if you go, I shall have none.”

  “What do you mean, husband?”

  “Gwyneth agreed to move to the other gatehouse chamber, so that you and I might have some privacy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed. Now put those things down and come here.”

  Gennie swallowed. She put her folded clothing back in the corner and approached the bedside. Haven patted the surface next to where he lay. Gennie sat. She bent and lifted a plump berry from the tray. “Are you hungry, husband?”

  “Aye, wife. Feed me.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Haven opened his mouth and watched Gennie lean forward. Her eyes widened, and she licked her lips. She hesitated, as if she expected him to bite her or worse. Wise woman, his wife.

  “Do you like berries?” she asked, her voice soft but far from soothing.

  Haven looked at the fruit in her hand. Juice ran down her wrist and arm. He watched the liquid drop from her elbow to a spot at the top of her thigh. He lifted his gaze to her breast. “I love berries. Especially if they are firm and plump.”

  Her hand crept forward, until the tidbit rested against his lips.

  He raised his eyes to hers, while his tongue darted out and plucked the fruit from her fingers into his mouth. He held her with his gaze and closed his lips around her forefinger. He engulfed the digit, savoring the mix of berry juice and Gennie. With small nibbles, he pursued the small stain into the sensitive web of flesh that linked fingers and thumb. He watched her shudder and close her eyes. Then he covered her thumb, suckling there, letting his tongue play with the tender pad and his teeth scrape over the soft flesh.

  Haven released her hand. She all but fell into his arms. He reached down beside the bed and found another berry. Rolling over, so Gennie was on her back, he pressed the sweet to her lips with his own. The explosion of taste and texture so overwhelmed him that his hips shifted to the rhythm of his tongue.

  Gennie responded in kind. Her tongue sought his, her hips lifted against him. She moaned.

  Yes! Haven lifted his mouth and chest away.

  “No,” Gennie whispered. “You are not yet well.”

  He forced himself to be still. He gazed down at Gennie’s kiss-glazed eyes. “I am well enough.” He flexed his hips, rubbing the evidence of his health against her.

  “Yes, please,” she murmured.

  He kissed her eyelids. “First, I will have these clothes off us both.”

  Gennie smiled. “Let me help.”

  “Certainment, mon coeur.” He lay back and allowed her to remove the nightshirt, which he had taken to wearing to preserve his modesty in front of Gwyneth,

  She pulled the cloth over his head. “Are you sure you are up to t
his?”

  Haven smiled at her, then looked down the length of his body.

  Gennie followed his gaze. “Oh, my. I guess you are.” She reached out to touch the pulsing flesh. Her hand circled its steely softness. She stroked upward, then down, then up again.

  Haven groaned.

  Gennie let go.

  “Nay do not stop.”

  “But you are in pain.”

  He caught her chin with his hand and looked into her eyes. “Surely Roger taught you…?”

  Gennie could feel herself blush.

  “No, I guess not. I am sorry, I keep forgetting how stupid my friend was with regard to his wife.” He leaned forward, brushing her mouth with his. “I will continue to be in pain unless you do as you just did.”

  She resumed her stroking.

  Haven sighed at the sweet tension that she built in his body.

  “I still do not understand.”

  The woman would drive him mad. He grasped her hand, pushed it away from his body and over her head. In a blink he had her on her back and was lifting her skirts.

  “Wait.” She mumbled from inside the swath of over-tunic and chemise that covered her head.

  “Nay, I will not, wait to make you understand.” Her clothes now lay in a tangle around her raised arms.

  Haven sat back on his knees between her legs and grinned.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Enjoying the view.”

  Gennie cast a glance down her exposed body. “I see nothing of interest.”

  “Really?” He looked at Gennie’s nipples, coming erect in the cool air. Haven licked his thumb. He passed its dampened pad across the very tip of one partially distended crest.

  Gennie’s reaction was instant and obvious. A red flush colored her from chest to brow. Her back arched slightly, and she uttered a sharp, “Oh.”

  Haven repeated the action several times, until he had thoroughly soaked that one taut bud. Then he blew gently on it and sat back once more.

  Gennie wore a mixed look of pain, pleasure and surprised understanding on her face.

  “Do not stop.”

  “So, you understand now?”

  Gennie studied him.

  He bent slightly and breathed on her quivering breast.

  “You are a cruel man.”

  “I can be.”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “I understand.”

  “Good, because I have no intention of stopping again for a very long time.”

  Gennie smiled. “Excellent. Now take these clothes off my arms.”

  Haven stretched out beside her. He reached up and brushed the hair from her face and neck, then leaned over, placing his lips on the pulse just below her earlobe. “I think not,” he whispered.

  “But I cannot touch you.”

  His teeth closed around her earlobe. When he heard her breath hitch, he let go and soothed the flesh with gentle flicks of his tongue.

  “I am pleased that you wish to touch me, but for now it is best that you do not.”

  Her lower lip emerged in a pout. “I disagree.”

  “Ah, but I have the upper hand.” To prove it, Haven set about pleasuring her with all his skill.

  Gennie knew she was going to die. Haven had touched and stroked, licked and suckled, teasing her with his passion until she nearly screamed at him to have done. He refused. Instead, he had loosed her arms and started again. He praised her body and urged her to touch his. He had questioned her, refusing her favored caress of the moment, until she spoke her most lustful desire. Then he fulfilled that desire tenfold.

  He was relentless, driving her from murmurs and pleas to screams with the most intimate of kisses. Never had she felt so admired, so valuable. Never had frustration been so enjoyable. She moved beneath him, restless, needy, anxious for the ease that would come when he had finished killing her with pleasure.

  “Gennie, look at me.” The dark rasp of his voice stroked down her body.

  She opened her eyes. His body was a shadow made tangible by the throb of his sex against hers. His gaze shone above her, a faint gleam in the web of heat that surrounded them.

  “I need you, Gennie. Give yourself to me.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she felt his plea in every corner of her being. Her heart clutched. He spoke of need, not love. If she gave to him now, she would gain nothing. Dare she trust him and risk her heart? Dare she love him, when he did not love her? Could she prevent it? The emotion that welled in her would have to suffice for them both.

  She lifted her hands and grasped his hips. Her eyes focused on his, she pulled him into her, and all thought shattered. She tumbled headlong into the maelstrom. His thrusts tossed her from crest to crest with increasing speed.

  Like a wild rose, need vined through Haven, caught him against its thorny pleasure and burst into bloom with a shout. He folded a dewy and dreaming Gennie into his arms and drifted. For that moment, with her secure next to his heart, he knew he could trust her.

  Slowly, Haven descended from the gatehouse to the bailey. The sun was well up and the keep bustled with activity, yet no one had disturbed his privacy with Gennie. He smiled. After last night, she could have no doubt about her place in his life.

  He looked about him. He had been abed too long and needed exercise. Sharp skills were a key part of survival, and he insisted his men practice wherever they were. Where had Soames set up the practice yard?

  As he wandered in search of either his second-in-command or the sounds of mock battle, the construction progress he saw pleased him. Soames and Owain both had reported on the condition of the keep during the course of his recovery. The curtain wall was completely mended. Several outbuildings had been restored, and more were in progress. Even the central tower of the keep would be habitable in the next day or so. He must remember to find the castle builder and praise him for his efforts.

  In fact, Haven was surprised that so much had been accomplished. The more he saw, the more he wondered how it had been done. Both Soames and Owain, on the few times he had seen them, commented on the shortage of labor needed to achieve repairs in a timely manner. His inspection had shown hundreds of men and women at work on various tasks. So where had all these workers come from? Edward had said he would send one hundred English families to ensure the countryside remained loyal to the crown. Could so many of those families have arrived so soon?

  On closer examination, Haven frowned. The voices he heard were not English but Welsh. Over the past weeks Gwyneth’s gabbling had become so familiar that he could recognize the Welsh tongue when he heard it. Edward’s orders regarding the distance the Welsh must stay from the keep were quite explicit. This situation could prove disastrous and must be rectified immediately. Haven might persuade Edward that one old Welsh woman was harmless, but not several hundred able-bodied men and their families. Even if work on the keep came to a dead halt, the Welsh would have to leave.

  To that end, Haven intensified his search for Soames. He found the older man with a group of the other warriors. They were busy clearing stones and rubble away from what appeared to be a cistern. It was menial labor and beneath the dignity of a warrior, but with so much to be done, it made good use of the strongest backs.

  Haven waited while Soames and five other men lifted a huge slab of stone. Simply watching the strain evident in each man’s effort exhausted Haven. So he sat. The slab was tipped up on end and then allowed to crash back to earth in the opposite direction from which it was lifted. The impact shattered the stone, making it easier to remove. Soames ordered the men to cart the pieces to the wall, where Haven could hear a Welshman supervising a team of masons.

  Soames approached. “Good day, Sir Haven. It is wonderful to see you up and moving about.”

  “I have been too long from my duty.”

  “Mayhap, but you were gravely ill. We feared for your life until Owain found the beldam, Gwyneth. I didn’t want to let the woman near you, but Lady Genvieve argued strongly that without Gwyneth’s aid you wou
ld die of a certainty.”

  Gennie’s concern pleased Haven, although he regretted causing anyone anxiety, Gennie most of all. He must thank her when next he saw her. In the meantime, orders banishing the Welsh workers must be given. “Do you recall what I told you of Edward’s wishes regarding the Welsh?”

  “Aye, Sir Haven. And it caused me no little discomfort when your wife promised Gwyneth a place by your fire, then asked the crone to spread word throughout the countryside that shelter and food could be had for work done at the keep.”

  “I should have known my wife was behind this. You had the authority to override her, Soames. Why did you not?”

  “Lady Genvieve is a determined woman. You have firsthand experience of how strong her will is. Would you have opposed her in my position, when her prayers would be inflicted not on myself, but on a man who lay defenseless in his sickbed.”

  “I doubt my wife would have inflicted on me prayers meant for you. But I understand your concern. Still, we are left with hundreds of Welsh in the castle, when our king has ordered that none come within one hundred paces of the outer curtain wall.”

  “What’s to be done, sir? If the Welsh leave, we’ll not finish repairs to the keep before winter.”

  “I understand, but they must leave all the same. I will give the order. Please assemble them to hear it.”

  “Aye. But it goes against the grain to do so. These people have borne much abuse from Daffydd. They work hard and ask little in return. Less than many English peasants would in a similar case.”

  “’Tis another reason the Welsh must leave. Edward is sending loyal English workers here. We must feed, house and clothe them through the winter, until they can grow crops and build homes of their own. I doubt that our supplies will stretch to feed the Welsh as well.”

  “’Tis a shame nonetheless. I will call the Welsh together in front of the gatehouse. Will that be satisfactory?”

  “Certainly. While you do that, Soames, where might I find the engineer the king sent?”

  “Why, right over there, sir.” Soames pointed at the young man Haven had heard earlier.