Lord Tristram’s Love Match by R.R. Vane
Chapter 10
Two years ago, 1172, Redmore
Tristram looked upon the walls of Redmore and wanted to shout with joy. It had been so long since he’d seen his bride. The turmoil caused by the killing of Thomas Becket and then the illness which had swept London had made it hard for them to reunite. And then there’d been the grief of both his mother and her father’s passing. Tristram now counted no less than eighteen months since Judith and he had set eyes on each other. A long time – far too long. In the past months Henry had given him many duties, and then there had been other pressing things which had forced him to join his own demesne.
While his lady mother had been alive, she’d overseen their home and lands, but now with Lady Aelis gone, he’d had to go to Devensey and appoint a chatelain who would look upon things. Nevertheless the whole business had taken far longer than he’d assumed as there’d been many loose ends and many things neglected while he’d been at Court. In truth, had his wife’s mother not been ailing, he would have called upon Judith’s help to see to their demesne. She may be young and unschooled in such things, but she was clever and seemed a fast learner. He felt confident she would learn to see to their lands and home just as capably as his sisters ruled their own demesnes. However, he’d been loath to ask for Judith’s help. Every letter he’d had from her had impressed upon him that her mother was feeling poorly. The pain over his own mother’s passing was still fresh and he hadn’t wanted to rob Judith of even an hour spent in the company of Lady Fenice. Besides, Judith was now the heir of Redmore, and the castle and lands would fall mainly upon her shoulders. He’d understood that at this time he couldn’t be as selfish as to call her away from where she was needed more.
He’d been apart far too long from his new bride, but now he was here at long last, and he couldn’t wait to set eyes upon her. He’d missed her. And, he admitted to himself with a suppressed sigh, he’d also missed a woman’s touch and caresses. Certainly, he’d kept faith with his lady, because he’d never been the man to break an oath, but heated images of lovemaking had plagued his dreams and even his waking hours.
His face lit with a smile when he finally caught sight of Judith, waiting for him in the outer bailey accompanied by her people. And his first thought was that he should run to her and take her in his arms and carry her up the stairs to her bedchamber. Yet he restrained himself. So many people were waiting by her side, having gathered to witness his arrival. Instead of running to his wife and kissing her ardently, he made himself give her a gracious bow. She replied with a curtsy.
“My lord,” she said, and her voice sounded restrained, rather than full of joy.
She proceeded to let him meet Sir Roderick and his wife, Dame Berthe who aided in the overseeing of Redmore, as well as those other people who saw to the welfare of her demesne. Tristram strived to focus upon the introductions, although his thoughts were only upon the bride he hadn’t seen in so long.
At last, he caught a moment of respite and clasped her hand in his. And he simply found he could no longer care for those around them.
“Come away! Let us talk, wife – the two of us,” he blurted out artlessly.
Certainly, talk was not the first thing upon his mind, and it seemed plain the other people around them had perceived this, and were already looking upon them with faint smiles. Judith blushed scarlet, and he felt truly embarrassed to have made her ill at ease. His lady mother would be tossing in her grave to think her son was behaving so discourteously.
“For privacy, it’s best you seek the solace of my lady’s chamber, my lord. You must have much to talk about,” Dame Berthe interceded smoothly.
Unlike the others’ countenances, the lady’s expression betrayed nothing.
“My lady Judith,” Dame Berthe added. “Perchance you, as the lady of this house, should be the one to lead your lord to the chamber?”
Still blushing fiercely, Judith nodded, yet she stepped towards the stairs and Tristram found himself eagerly following her, unable to still care for what the others might think of his behaviour. Together they climbed the stairs which led to Judith’s bedchamber, and for a while they climbed in silence. They soon reached a spot where no one else could see them any longer, and where the space around them narrowed. So Judith had to lead the way and Tristram followed, because the staircase was now too cramped to fit two people walking side by side. And Tristram’s eyes didn’t tarry to fall on the swish of Judith’s ample hips as she was making her way up. He bit hard into his lip, recalling how he’d dreamt of Judith’s curves and of finally caressing her body at leisure. He must have been tarrying because Judith suddenly turned her head over her shoulder to see why he’d paused. And at that moment Tristram could bear it no longer. He stepped up to her and simply pinned her against one of the walls in the narrow space. He kissed her hungrily, pressing his heated body against hers.
“So long,” he muttered against her lips, loving the velvet of the kiss.
There was a hot urgency to it he revelled in, and he only belatedly recalled the kisses they’d shared so far in their marriage had been scarce, and that he’d mostly contented himself to brush his lips against Judith’s hands and cheeks, quite chastely. He had barely even kissed her lips. And now he was kissing her wantonly, with tongue and teeth. He also became aware that one of his hands had already reached to hoist her skirts, while his body was pinning her against the wall.
He hastily disentangled himself from her, feeling deeply ashamed of his behaviour.
“I humbly beg forgiveness, my lady,” he found himself muttering, capturing her hand and brushing a light kiss upon it.
Judith was now blushing even more deeply than before, and she was touching her lips, with a stunned expression on her face. Tristram cursed himself in his mind. She was still a maiden. And they’d not seen each other in so long. Instead of treating her gently and of seeking to talk to her, he’d behaved like an unfeeling lout.
“Perchance… if you will lead the way,” he muttered, feeling mortified.
Judith nodded after what seemed to him like a long while. They reached Judith’s bedchamber in silence, and Tristram felt grateful he was finally able to sit himself in a chair and catch his laboured breath. His heart was thumping fiercely. And he felt thankful his long tunic must hide most of his painful arousal.
“So,” he said artlessly, clearing his throat. “At last we meet, my lady.”
Judith said nothing, still staring at him with a deep blush in her cheeks. Tristram suppressed a heartfelt sigh of regret. He had behaved wretchedly. And in the next days he should strive to be courteous and mindful of his wife. He willed himself to temper his maddening arousal, reasoning it would be wrong to rush things. In a day or so, when Judith had taken the time to reacquaint herself with him, things were bound to take their due course. He well recalled that, whenever he’d touched her in those first days of the marriage, Judith had appeared shy, but she’d not appeared to fear his touch. In truth, on the stairs, it had seemed to him she was returning his kiss with abandon. But at this time his mind was so fevered with lust of her that he simply couldn’t tell if her acquiescence had been all a figment of his heated mind. So he reasoned it was best to temper his ardour. He was too famished for her touch. A famished man might end up ill-treating a woman who was unschooled in lovemaking.
He willed himself to disregard his lust, and, as he started to talk to his wife, telling her how his journey had been, and hearing her talk in that lovely voice of which he’d often dreamt, he soon began to feel more at ease. He’d missed Judith so! And he immersed himself into the sheer joy of being with her after such a long separation. They talked at length, and she told him of Redmore, and of the things she’d done in his absence. They talked at leisure until evening fell, and at last they descended to have supper. Tristram was yet to meet the lady Fenice, who had been unwell before, but who now sent word she felt up to meeting her new son-in-law.
