A Stern Lord for My Lady by R.R. Vane
Chapter 12
It seemed her husband was at last able to get King Henry to agree to having his eldest son crowned in Winchester for a second time, and Alicia breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the queen was pleased with Henry’s acquiescence. The days that followed passed uneventfully, yet Alicia felt weary of the court, and of Lady Edith’s constant sneers and snide remarks. It was, as one of the ladies-in-attendance who came to befriend Alicia told her, that Lady Edith had a daughter and she’d hoped to make a match with Lord FitzRolf, which gave good cause for her aversion to Alicia. It was also that Lady Edith must have already perceived Queen Eleanor held Alicia in high esteem, which increased her jealousy. It did not help that Eleanor dismissed her ladies from time to time to confer with Alicia.
On one such occasion, the queen chose to speak to Alicia about the events, which would take place on the morrow.
“This tournament. It is a good thing,” Queen Eleanor mused. “Did you see my son Henry’s face light with pleasure upon it? Unlike his father, my son loves jousting and he is almost certain to win the tournament.”
Alicia nodded, knowing it was so. At seventeen, Young Henry had already showed his prowess in tournaments, and was certain to win even more glory as he advanced in age.
“I wonder who would win the joust I wagered upon with my husband. Do you think it will be Sir Erec or your own husband in tomorrow’s joust?”
Alicia shrugged, feeling worry rise in her chest. Both her husband and Sir Erec were worthy knights, and, even if he was lither of form, Sir Erec was a redoubtable tourneyer. In truth, she did not know which of the two knights would best the other, and she had begun to worry her husband’s pride and standing would take a great blow if the outcome was not the one he desired. The king was urging him to win and he would be angered if Bertran did not prove himself the victor. Besides, she’d come to see how her husband clenched his fists whenever Sir Erec’s name was mentioned. She avoided speaking that name in his presence, because she saw he had become jealous of her former suitor. She wished she were able to tell him he had even less cause for his jealousy than he thought, yet Sir Erec had sworn her to secrecy and she’d never betrayed her word.
“I do not know, my queen. I hope it will be my husband,” Alicia muttered with a sigh.
Eleanor sighed in return.
“It would give me great satisfaction if it were Sir Erec, just to see the smirk wiped off my royal husband’s arrogant face. Yet perchance you are right. It is better your husband should win. Henry will be appeased. And he won’t begrudge my son’s own glory in the rest of the tournament.”
Alicia nodded, understanding that, once again, Eleanor was proving herself a wise politician. She saw now that Eleanor had deftly manoeuvred Henry into giving a tournament to make her son shine in front of all to see, and the wager concerning her own husband and Sir Erec had been just a clever ploy. Henry despised tournaments, and the fact he’d been forced to give one must still chafe. So she prayed her husband would win the joust with Sir Erec that would take place on the very morrow. She sensed that much depended on it.
That night at home, she had occasion to see her husband was tenser than usual. He was not sharp with her, because it was not his manner to behave so, yet she saw the taut line of his mouth and the set look in his eyes. He seemed far away, and Alicia guessed he was probably dwelling upon tomorrow’s events. She pretended not to notice his mood, and let him have his peace, because she sensed it was peace and a distance from her that he needed at this time.
So she did not look at him with invitation in her eyes, nor attempt to touch him teasingly or press herself against him when they were finally alone, as had become her habit in the last days. Nor did she engage him in talk as she usually did. She kept her distance instead, just busying herself with righting things about their chamber and with ordering their garments in one of the chests.
She was mightily surprised when she at last sensed her husband’s hand upon her shoulder from behind. She’d thought him still occupied with his goblet of wine and his own thoughts. She turned to face him, and found him grim and frowning upon her.
“You’ve not even glanced upon me this night, my lady,” he muttered, and his voice sounded displeased.
“I thought to leave you your peace. The tournament’s tomorrow,” Alicia answered him an earnest.
It was the first time in their marriage that he was speaking so grimly to her. He was usually of good humour whenever he addressed her. But she understood he was entitled to feel grim tonight. He did not have an easy task ahead of him tomorrow.
“You have been cold to me,” he said and his voice sounded sharp. “Perchance you’re pining for another?”
The name of Erec de Jarnac remained unspoken between them. Alicia nearly opened her mouth to tell Bertran that Erec had in mind a vastly different kind of lover and not her, yet it did not feel fair to impart this secret to him, especially since Bertran would fight this man tomorrow. It was not her place to interfere in the fight in any way. Besides, it would be wrong to break a word she’d given.
She touched her husband’s long lashes in a caress meant to brush off the jealousy that was smouldering there.
“Peace, husband, I burn only for you!” she whispered, letting him hear the truth in her voice.
He glanced at her searchingly, as if to make sure she spoke true. But then, all of a sudden, he closed the lid of the chest that she’d been setting to rights, and he hoisted her on it, impatiently moving her skirts aside and making quick work of parting her thighs.
Soon he was pulling his own garments aside, letting her see his engorged cock. “Why, here?” she asked in sheer surprise, understanding he meant to plunge into her swiftly.
Yet she already felt wet and ready just by glancing upon his rigid manhood, and she heard his quick grunt of satisfaction as he brought his hand between her legs and could feel she was already gushing for his thrust. And thrust into her he did, with a vengeance that nearly took her breath away and made her swoon with pleasure. He loved her very deep, and punishingly, and Alicia understood she would feel sore after this kind of loving, yet she revelled in every moment of it, and in the way he possessively whispered as he was thrusting in and out of her.
“Mine. You are mine, my lady. Fully mine!”
“Aye!”
She cried her full acquiescence, as rapture made her sex convulsively clench around the hard shaft that was going in and out of her at a punishing rate. She’d nearly swooned with pleasure, crying out her joy, yet when she came back to herself, she perceived her husband was not done loving her hard. So he went on, loving her just as hard, until tears simply came to her eyes, and something she’d not thought possible happened at last. She felt rapture seize her again, even more powerful than the first time, and she shouted her joy a second time, just as he was spending his hot seed inside her.
It was with difficulty that she came back to herself, and scrambled to her feet to go and clean off his seed from between her legs. Her legs trembled and her knees nearly buckled as she did so, and she softly cursed under her breath. She heard him chuckle behind her, and she could hear male arrogance in his voice as he said:
“Methinks I loved you rather well…”
She heaved a sigh, unable even to speak at this time, and thinking he would be the death of her if more tournaments like this one took place and he was tense with battle longing. Yet he held her tenderly when she joined him in their bed, and his voice was full of warmth when he told her, “In truth, I’m glad you’re fully mine, my lady. I do not think I could ever wish for a better wife.”
She pressed herself against him, savouring his warmth. She opened her mouth to speak words in return, telling him she’d never want a better husband. Yet it was different words that came upon her lips instead. I love you, husband. She was astounded the very moment she opened her mouth to speak them, and at the last moment bit them back. She’d never thought marriage was for love. Love was a courtly tale, that only troubadours believed in, wasn’t it? Marriage meant caring and loyalty and sometimes lust. But love? At that moment she understood in puzzlement that, in truth, she felt now certain she loved her husband, and had just failed to acknowledge it to herself in the past days. Aye, there was caring and loyalty and lust between them. Yet there was also love. She loved Bertran already and could not picture in her head a world where he was not her husband. She opened her mouth to tell him the words, thinking he would be glad to hear them, yet stopped herself in time. He had a tournament tomorrow. Now was not the time to utter stirring words like these. Perhaps he did not want to acknowledge such feelings at this time. His thoughts should perhaps be on what needed to be done on the morrow. On knightly battle rather than on courtly love.
“I am well pleased with you too, husband,” she said instead, kissing him lightly on the cheek and snuggling against him.
