He sat up, his breathing irregular, and pushed aside her leather girdle. The laces on the sides of her bliaut were not so easily shed and, impatient, Rolfe drew the dagger at his waist and slit the sides open.
Her small shriek drew his eyes back to hers. “Do not begrudge me my impatience, dearling, for you have caused it. Your laces will be replaced, I promise.”
Leonie bit her lip. It was his methods she objected to, not her ruined laces. She was reminded of Ethelinda’s rape, for Ethelinda had been cut from her clothes too. Rape was no more than her husband was offering her, for he quickly took his knife to the laces of her chemise as well.
She began crying silent tears of shame and misery, and she hated him for that. She had sworn she would never cry in front of him, and now…
“Did the laces mean so much to you, little flower?”he whispered, his face a study in contrition. He truly thought she mourned her silly laces, and he was sorry for it. What was she to make of this?
“I—I have a hundred laces to replace them, my lord, but I have never had my clothes cut from me.”
“Ah, then I am indeed at fault. Will it appease you to do the same to me?”
Leonie stared wide-eyed at the sharp blade he placed in her hand. “You jest, my lord. I could not cut through your mail.”
“You will have to help me remove that, but the rest you can shred to rags if it will stop your tears.”
The idea of taking the knife to his clothing with his permission was so ridiculous that a very slight grin curled Leonie’s mouth.
“If I could find clothes to replace yours I would do it, but we have no one here quite as large as you are, and I wouldn’t like to send you away with only your mail covering you. Though Iwouldbe interested to hear how you explained that to your men,” she said with a laugh.
Rolfe laughed with her. Tears in bed were not something he was accustomed to, but neither was humor, and he found it delightful, especially from this shy girl.
“As to that,” Rolfe said, grinning, “I would have told the truth—that a saucy wench was so hot for me that—”
“Lies!” Leonie gasped, a giggle escaping. “Would you really say such an awful thing?”
“My men would believe me after seeing my bony knees poking out from beneath this heavy armor,” he said.
“Then it is just as well I decline the use of your dagger.”
“Well, indeed. And now, if you would help me remove these trappings?”
Leonie nodded, grateful for the opportunity to move behind him, to where he couldn’t see her. He had almost made her forget that she was naked, but her vulnerable state made her feel even more embarrassed when she realized that he would soon be naked too.
What had Leonie confused was a strange feeling of acceptance. Her fear of him was gone, dispelled by kind words and lighthearted banter. She spared a moment to silently beseech God not to let this be a cruel trick.
“Wouldn’t it be easier for you to stand before me, dearling?” Rolfe asked as he removed his belt and sword and set them on the floor. He lifted the heavy chain-mail hauberk to his waist.
“No, my lord.” Leonie gripped hold of the armor. “I am not so tall that I could manage this even with you sitting.”
It was the truth, for she had helped Sir Guibert often enough, and each time he was forced to kneel while she stood on a stool to raise his armor over his head. But even on her knees behind Rolfe’s back she was having trouble, and at last had to stand up on the bed to finish the task.
At last he was naked, and Leonie moved slowly to stand in front of him. She wondered if she could unbraid her hair for the mantle it would make, but doubted he would have the patience to wait for that. He was thoroughly enjoying her bashfulness and he reached for her, putting his hands on her waist, then moving them slowly up and down her sides, over her gently curving hips, over the full swell of her breasts.
She was biting her lower lip in an endearing way, a little frown puckering her brow. She was trying tokeep her head down, too mortified to meet his eyes. His head bent and his lips fastened on the high pointing perfection of a nipple, his tongue grazing over skin like silk. He heard her gasp, and just at that moment there was a single knock.
The door opened and Beatrix stepped into the room. “Leonie, I—oh! Oh, my lord, forgive me!” Beatrix turned scarlet. “Leonie, I—I did not—oh, it can wait—” Beatrix backed out of the room as fast as she could.
Leonie’s first impulse was to laugh, and she would have except for the look on her husband’s face. He wore such a perplexed frown.
“You must not mind my aunt,” she said. “She shares this room with me and…”
He did not take his eyes from her face. Nor did his expression change.
“Lady Leonie?” It was a question.
She jerked away from him.
