‘You are squashing me,’ she complained breathlessly and stifled the urge to giggle as his face fell.
‘Did I hurt you? I thought …’ He narrowed his eyes, considering her. The clawing of her nails could be misconstrued, perhaps even the muffled cries, but not the tremors of her inner flesh. ‘Wanton!’ he pronounced, rolling over and drawing her with him. ‘I shall not call youCath fachagain.Cath wyllt, perhaps!’
Judith moved sinuously upon him. ‘It is better than getting drunk,’ she admitted, giggling openly now. ‘Just.’
‘Remind me to ask you in the middle next time, not afterwards.’
‘Next time! You mean we have to do all this again?’ She widened her eyes in mock horror. ‘Where’s the nettle salve?’
‘For my back you mean? You must have clawed it to shreds!’
‘You should not be so clumsy,’ she retorted swiftly, poking out her tongue and then using its tip to flick over his throat, her hips surging playfully.
Guyon laughed. ‘Then I needs must practise,’ he said and caught her down to him.
Judith awoke to the noise of a flock of sheep being driven down the road on their way into the city and the sharp whistle of the shepherd commanding his dogs. They were sounds with which she had grown up and it brought to her now the image of the marches greening lushly into summer and filled her with longing to be out of the city and home.
There was a warm weight across her body – Guyon’s arm, the fingers in relaxed possession of the curve of her breast. He was still sleeping deeply, sprawled upon his stomach, and had not moved since their last pre-dawn bout of love-making. Her mouth twitched. It was her fault, she knew. She had told him that it was better than getting drunk. Well, indeed it was but, just like wine, it could become addictive.
So great had been her fear of the sexual act as a result of witnessing her mother’s degradation at the hands of her violent, contemptuous father, that her own survival of the deed, indeed her enjoyment and satisfaction, had led her to prove to herself several times that it was no illusion. It was not. The last time, Guyon had asked her, groaning, if she was trying to kill him. Her gaze flickered over his lean, sleep-relaxed body. Coaxed and cajoled, he had become aroused, but it had taken him a long, long time and it had been wonderful. There was a low, dull ache in the small of her back and her body was languorous with content. It was certainly a better aftermath than a drink megrim.
She heard Sir Walter speak to the shepherd and make a fuss of one of the dogs. Secure, and reluctant to break her mood of drowsy contentment, she snuggled back down into Guyon’s embrace and closed her eyes.
When Guyon finally roused sufficiently to lift his lids, the morning was high and hot, first mass a memory and the hunters long gone on their quest. Sunlight slanted dustily through a warped gap in the shutters and shot the red silk bed hangings to the colour of flame. The night candle was burned to a puddle of congealed wax. He empathised. He flicked a wary glance at the sleeping innocence beside him … Innocence! Good Christ, Rhosyn and even the inimitable Alais de Clare were mere novices compared to the supple, oblivious girl in his bed. Rape. She had feared rape. He stifled a chuckle at the irony.
Gently he touched a tendril of her hair and looked at her curled form, remembering when she had cowered from him, a half-grown starveling with terror-filled eyes. They had come a long way since then, not always along the same road, but converging here at a new crossroads. The Conqueror’s granddaughter with the Viking blood of Duke Rollo and the common tanners of Falaise mingling in her veins.
In the light of what he had realised last night, he pondered her immediate parentage, wondering what had driven Alicia to mate with a boy of half her age and twice her experience. Probably he would never know and there were good reasons for keeping such knowledge private, not least the needs of this vulnerable wanton at his side.
As if aware of his musing regard, Judith stretched and opened her eyes, and yawned at him.
‘Good morning, my wild cat,’ he greeted her with a kiss.
‘You missed the hunt,’ she said with a sleepy smile.
‘No I didn’t,’ he contradicted with a grin. ‘I just had no inkling that I was the quarry.’ Judith blushed. ‘No matter, I can think of better ways to spend the day than aiming a bow at a driven deer or whatever. Besides, I’d rather not straddle a horse today.’
Her blush deepened and extended to include her throat and shoulders. ‘Are you angry with me about last night, Guy?’
‘Which part?’ he teased. ‘Where you froze Henry’s manhood in the fingerbowl, or when you drained mine to a husk?’
Judith bit her lip. Against her scarlet chagrin, her eyes were brilliant, almost topaz. ‘It was like drinking that yellow wine, I did not want to stop,’ she excused herself, hanging her head.
‘Drunk two nights in a row!’ he chaffed her. ‘What am I to do with you? No, don’t tell me, I haven’t the strength. Just don’t ask me to show you anything ever again, even if you are desperate to know! God’s life, it nearly killed me!’
Judith fisted him in the ribs and he yelped. ‘But if you were content, it was worth it.’ He sobered, looking at her rosy, flustered face. ‘I have no objection to dying like that, unless it be four times a night!’
She slanted a quick glance through her lashes. ‘At least there will be naught left of you for Alais de Clare,’ she said with a return of her accustomed tartness and, sitting up, shook back her hair. The sunlight lit her eyes with sparkling glints of mica.
‘I don’t want Alais de Clare,’ Guyon answered, stretching. ‘Why settle for dross when you can have gold?’
Judith looked at him. ‘I am dreaming,’ she said pensively. ‘One day I am going to wake up alone and cold and realise I have been the dupe of illusion.’
‘What has happened to last night’s blind faith?’ He tugged a strand of her hair. ‘Isn’t it enough now?’
‘It’s not that, Guy,’ she answered, frowning. ‘It is the opposite. I have too much. It isn’t true.’
‘Never satisfied, are you?’ He put his arm around her. ‘What do you want me to do? Cut my other wrist for you as well and swear an undying oath?’
