“Ah, but now you will be a Baron,” my father declared, and Bayard's eyes went wide.
“Come inside, please,” my mother ushered us in, giving my father an annoyed look, for being so brash about the news. “It is a bit loud out here. Your sons have made quite an impression on the kingdom, Bayard.”
“I would say it's unbelievable,” Bayard grinned. “But I always knew they were destined for greatness.”
The men stopped and looked at their father quizzically.
“Soon I'll tell you my own story of magic,” he promised us. “But for now, let's focus on you five and your happiness. May it be eternal.”
The feast was still being prepared, and the scent of roasting meat filled the lower floors. The crowds in the courtyard would be fed too, in honor of my engagement, but the eight of us would dine together within the dining hall, at the high table. First, though, the men were sent to their rooms to prepare for dinner. Bayard was given a room in my parent's wing of the castle, and Barret went to see his father settled before he found his way to his own chambers. I escorted the other three brothers to their new rooms, shyly showing them to chambers on either side of, and below, mine.
Robyn and Hugin, as the eldest, were given rooms on the same floor as mine, and they had doors which opened directly into my bedchamber. The younger two, Barret and Arnet, were put in rooms directly below mine, and they each had hidden stairways which led up into my bedroom. I'd had to be moved specially into this new chamber to accommodate all these secret passages and doorways (all new additions as well- our poor masons had been busy). But that's how things were done. A husband and wife didn't share a bedroom. They each had their own rooms, but they also had private access to each other. At least, that's how it was with royalty, who could afford such extravagance.
After the brothers were settled, I went to freshen up. I went into my new bedroom, trying not to look at the massive bed, big enough to sleep five easily. Husbands and wives may have separate rooms, but that didn't mean they didn't enjoy sleeping together. The individual rooms were for propriety's sake... and for escaping into, if you happened to be unlucky in marriage.
My lady's maid had just finished setting my hair into a complicated arrangement when a knock came at the adjoining door within the left wall. Robyn's room. I swallowed hard as my maid went to answer it. The manservant assigned to Robyn stood there, waiting patiently.
“My master requests that his betrothed attend him at his bath,” the man intoned.
My maid looked to me.
This was also very proper. A betrothed man, or even a highly respected guest, could request to be attended on by either his bride-to-be or, in the case of the latter, the lady of the castle herself. Which would have been the Queen. Generally, the practice wasn't followed by royalty. At least not for the highly respected guest. But as for a betrothed man and his bride? It was perfectly normal. The glint in the manservant's eyes told me all I needed to know. He had just endeared himself to his new master by informing him of this practice.
“Of course,” I tried to be casual about it, but my heart had flown up into my throat and was making it difficult for me to speak.
As I passed the manservant, he eased into my bedroom, and made a hasty retreat through my bedroom door, along with my maid. I was alone with Robyn. I saw him immediately, submerged already in a wood tub full of steaming water. There was a cloth draped over the edges of the tub, but that was beneath him, to make the hard wood more comfortable. It wouldn't be covering anything on him.
Robyn lounged back against the rim of the tub, arms draped over the sides and head fallen back in bliss. Steam rose around him, making him appear even more mysterious than he already was. Even in the bath, the man was hooded. The mist collected on his skin, beading along his neck and arms, and soaking his hair. Robyn's shaggy locks were slicked back and dripping onto the stone floor behind him. His eyes were closed, but as I stepped forward, he opened them. A relaxed roll of the head brought his stare to mine, then it dropped, slowly.
It was so different than when Saunder had ogled me. Robyn gazed on me like he barely dared to believe I was real. As if I could be a ghost or a witch there to taunt him and disappear before he could touch me. He looked longingly at my face, his eyes dropping to half-lidded seduction. Something shook, low inside of me. A quivering that I'd never felt before. I took a hesitant step forward. And then another, and another.
“Addy,” Robyn whispered. “Is it acceptable for me to call you Addy?”
“Of course,” my voice was a low purr, which startled me into clearing my throat. “You... we are betrothed, you can be more intimate with me now.”
“Intimate,” he rolled the word over his tongue and then held a hand out to me. “Do you want that?”
“Yes,” I whispered as my stomach clenched.
“I thought this might be a way for you to get more comfortable with me,” Robyn sat up, water sluicing from his body. He was more muscled than I'd originally thought, his wide chest sprinkled lightly with crisp curls. “Would you like to touch me?”
The words hung in the air between us. I could hardly breathe with the thickness of them filling my lungs. I swallowed once. Twice. And then simply nodded, taking that last step to bring me into his reach. Robyn fished a chunk of soap from the water and a wet piece of cloth, then handed them both to me. There were two chairs set by the tub. One held towels, and the other was empty. I slid the empty chair behind him, took the soap and cloth, then eased onto the seat.
I didn't dare look down into that cloudy water. The parts of Robyn already bare to me were making me flush, and sweat was starting to bead at my temples. I wasn't sure I could handle any more of him. The fire on our left was too warm, my dress felt stifling, but it cast a seductive glow over Robyn's skin. He was a golden god in that light, sleek and wet, straight from the forge. Robyn leaned forward a little more, giving me his back as well as some space between us. It was a considerate gesture, distancing himself just a little, and it put me at ease. I could wash his back. I'd seen hundreds of bare backs. Touching one wouldn't be a problem. I soaped up the cloth and laid it to his skin, my fingertips spreading over the edges.
Robyn flinched as if I'd hurt him, and I jerked away in shock.
“No,” he whispered, “don't stop. I was just... I wasn't prepared for your touch.”
I felt a rush of confidence fill me, a woman's pride over what she could do to a man. I found myself smiling as I leaned forward and set to gently soaping him. After I scrubbed Robyn's entire back, I used the cup, set beside the tub, to rinse him. He sighed and leaned back after I was done. It brought him into the curve of my arms, and I automatically leaned forward. The back of his head and the width of his shoulders pressed into me. I was getting my dress wet, but I didn't care. He felt so good there.
Robyn angled his head onto my shoulder, the stubble on his cheek tickling my skin. It felt so perfect, the way we fit together. I slid my arms over his shoulders and began to rub the cloth over his chest, skimming the curves of his tight muscles. He twitched when I crossed over a nipple, and I froze. What's this, then? Men are sensitive there too? I bit my lip and brushed it again. Robyn moaned, his mouth falling open as his legs thrashed in the water. I glanced down and saw his manhood, a hazy shape beneath the surface, growing more solid. It was longer than I thought it would be, sticking out straight, as if seeking my touch. I swallowed hard and moved my hand down his belly.
I was so distracted by what I'd glimpsed, the cloth slipped from my grip and splashed into the water. I would have got up for another cloth, but Robyn grabbed my hand and moved it onto his knee.
“You don't need the cloth,” he turned his head to whisper into my ear. His lips were slick with steam, and the flutter of them on my skin felt like a kiss. “Just soap your hands.”
I pulled away, but only to do as he asked and soap up my hands. I gave Robyn the soap to hold and ran my hands over his shoulders, then down, kneading the muscles of his arms. He moaned again and laid his head back, this time on my chest. Robyn was soaking my dress all the way down to my skin, and I didn't care. I loved the way his wet hair felt on me, sticking to my skin, and the way he moved against me. I slid my hands down Robyn's chest, stopping to roll his nipples between my fingers, and he shouted, his hips bucking out of the water.
