“I would be a poor example if I did not care for my guests,” Cicely said.
“Good morrow, my liege,” Kier said as he entered the chamber. “ ’Tis a good day for grouse, I think. Will you join us, madam?” he asked his bride.
“I think I shall remain with Her Highness,” Cicely said. “We still have much catching up to do, my lord. And I shall see a fine meal awaits your return.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Kier replied somewhat dryly.
Mab had indeed supplied the high board with a very generous breakfast. And afterwards the king and the laird departed to hunt grouse.
They had no sooner left the hall than the queen dragged Cicely to the chairs by the fire. “What happened?” she asked her friend. “Tell me all! Leave nothing out!” She sat down, putting her feet upon a stool. “Is he a good lover?”
“You know my knowledge is not great,” Cicely said, “but I believe him to be a magnificent lover,” she told her friend.
The queen’s blue eyes widened. “What did he do?” she demanded to know.
“I think the question would be, What didn’t he do?” Cicely said, smiling.
“Blessed Mother!” Joan Beaufort responded, and she leaned forward in spite of her big belly. “Tell me, Ce-ce!”
Cicely giggled, and then she began to speak in hushed tones so no one else might hear her recitation. She left no detail of their late wedding night out, and the queen was fascinated by it all.
“Has he been in your ass yet?” she asked her friend.
“Nay,” Cicely said. “Is such a thing possible?”
“Aye. I’m not particularly fond of it, but sometimes Jamie wants to do it, and so I allow it,” the queen explained. “Your husband, if he is as adventurous as he seems, will want that pleasure eventually.”
“I hope not,” Cicely said, looking dubious.
“How long did he fuck you?” the queen inquired.
“Forever, it seemed. I thought he would go on until Twelfth Night. He seems to have reasonable stamina, Jo. And he went so deep.”
“He’s long then.”
“Aye, and big too,” Cicely responded.
“There is nothing like a stiff, manly cock,” the queen agreed.
“I complimented him,” Cicely said.
Joan Beaufort giggled. “Blessed Mother! I’m sure you quite startled him.”
“Are you not supposed to tell a man when he pleases you?” Cicely wanted to know. “Ian always seemed so happy when I told him.”
“It cannot hurt a man to know he is appreciated,” the queen replied. “But I am certain it does embarrass him, for men are like that. Do what pleases you, Ce-ce.”
“Indeed I shall, Jo. Since he doesn’t like me, it doesn’t really matter,” Cicely answered the queen. “I’ll be a good chatelaine and a good wife to him. I will bear his children and give him the respect he is due. He’ll have no complaints in me.”
“Doesn’t like you? Oh, no, Ce-ce, you are quite mistaken,” Joan Beaufort told her friend. “Kier likes you very much, I suspect. But like most men he thinks he must be strong, and being strong means showing no weakness. Men think love a weakness.”
“Then why does he tell me he doesn’t like me?” Cicely wanted to know. “I don’t understand such a thing. Ian always said he loved me. He showed no hesitation in doing so, Jo. But Kier is most blunt in his dislike of me.”
“Have you said you don’t like him?” the queen asked.
“Of course I have. I do not want him to think me so weak and simpering a little fool that I cannot manage without being assured of his love. I don’t need his love to do my duty to Glengorm,” Cicely said stubbornly.
“In other words, he hurt your feelings when he said he didn’t like you, so you retaliated by telling him you didn’t like him,” Joan Beaufort replied.
