Lord Tristram’s Love Match by R.R. Vane
Chapter 9
Present time, 1174
Judith hardly saw her husband during the day and she strived not to think too much upon him as she busied herself with her tasks over the week that passed. With relief, she saw he didn’t seek as yet to change the ways in which she oversaw her household. It appeared she was still the lady of this house and of this demesne, and Tristram hardly interfered with her ruling over her people as he fulfilled the pressing duties of looking upon his men and upon the demesne’s defences. In this, he had mainly to deal with Sir Roderick, and Judith was mostly spared from her husband’s presence during the day. However, Judith was not as simple to believe this state of things would go on for much longer.
As the new lord of Redmore, Tristram was soon to take over several of the duties Judith had fulfilled until now. In truth, if their marriage had been a genuine one, Judith would have welcomed the presence of a husband who would share in the burden of overseeing their demesne. Yet their marriage was not a genuine one, and Judith had no doubt Tristram would not tarry to make it plain to her own people that she was only a chastened, repentant woman who lived under his rule. And while she’d been mainly spared from Tristram’s presence during the day, she always had to deal with him at night, when it was time to seek her bedchamber.
Indeed, tonight when Judith came to bed, she found Tristram had already had a bath and dressed for the night. She suppressed a sigh, bidding the servants to empty the tub, and she waited for them to bring it again, filled with new, hot water for her to bathe as well.
The servants fulfilled their duties diligently before retiring, but Judith now felt tired and cross, and in no mood at all for Tristram. By the way he was now looking upon her, he must be already thinking of chastising her again. Judith closed her eyes tiredly, not wanting to think of the spankings she’d already received from him, and of the way her treacherous quim had been gushing wet and pulsing shamefully for his thrust each time he was done punishing her.
At this time his brooding stare roamed upon her as she began to undress, and she found herself unwilling to hold her peace.
“Quit staring, please, my lord. I wish to have my bath in peace,” she found herself muttering, only belatedly understanding she was already giving Tristram further reason to claim she was in need of chastisement.
“Defiant words, since you’re my lawful wife and I can stare all I please,” Tristram soon countered just as she’d thought he would.
“And I suppose now you’ll spank me for them,” Judith said wearily, starting to step out of her gown.
Tristram said nothing, just letting his gaze linger upon her.
“Do you also plan on having to me tonight?” Judith asked, knowing already his course was set whatever she meant to say.
Again, Tristram said nothing.
“Because you can’t have me tonight,” Judith added mockingly, knowing he would not like at all that she was further defying him.
She stalled removing her underdress, loath to get naked in front of him at this time. All she wanted was to have her bath in peace, away from his sombre gaze.
“I did not think I would,” Tristram suddenly said in a quiet voice. “Not when your monthly flow is upon you.”
Judith’s cheeks heated, because he was the first man to speak of such things with her.
“How do you know?”
Tristram shrugged.
“I grew up with sisters,” he replied tersely, now turning his back on her to go to the window.
Judith felt grateful he had ceased staring at her. He blissfully ignored her when she had her bath and saw to the rags she’d been using for her monthly flow, replacing them with new ones. She soon felt refreshed after she’d had her bath and slipped into a clean shift. Yet, as she climbed into bed, she couldn’t help wondering whether Tristram might still want to punish her tonight. Her gaze upon him must have been searching and anxious, and he raised his dark eyebrows at her when he strode to the bed. However, with sheer relief, Judith perceived he was now reaching to snuff the candle. It seemed tonight she’d been given a reprieve.
“It’s best you saw the midwife in the village one of these days,” Tristram spoke in the dark as he was climbing into bed by her side.
“Midwife?” Judith asked, uncomprehending.
She sat up, downright puzzled, because it had been but a few days since they’d first coupled, and she was now having her courses. Surely, he wouldn’t think…
“I’m certain she will know of a brew, herbs and some such,” Tristram went on and his voice sounded cold. “I’ll have more care and will no longer spill my seed inside you, but it’s best to speak to her as well.”
As Judith recalled their heated couplings, with a fierce blush in her cheeks, she understood it was only twice that Tristram had given her his seed. She frowned, at first not understanding why that was, but then she remembered how the priest in her village had one day ranted in Church against those who coupled only for pleasure. He’d said both the men who withheld their seed and the women who used herbs and pessaries were certainly risking eternal damnation. At the time, Judith had not truly cared for his words, but now Tristram was acting just like those the priest had called sinful.
“Don’t you wish for a child?” Judith found herself asking.
She strived to tell herself that what he’d uttered was blasphemy, but at this time, when she conjured up the image of a child they might have, she could think only of her own estranged parents and of how they’d always looked upon one another coldly. It was a strange thought, yet it came unbidden. If Tristram and she soon had a child, it would be the child of bitter, estranged parents.
“Do you wish for children?” Tristram countered, and his voice sounded cold.
Children were God’s gift, Judith knew full well. At one time she’d thought she would give Tristram both sons and daughters and had welcomed the thought. Things between them had not been bitter then. Now Judith felt a chill run through her veins, understanding things between her and Tristram might always be just as bitter as they were now, in spite of the lusty heat when they coupled. Did that mean it was best not to ever have children?
“You will want sons. Not now perchance, but later. All men do,” Judith said, making her own voice cold and recalling what her mother had taught her.
Lady Fenice had schooled her on this, saying men set little store on daughters and wished for nothing but sons. Judith had always thought this unfair. And now she remembered she’d spoken to Tristram of this during the first days of their marriage. She plainly recalled Tristram had told her he would cherish a daughter just as much as he would a son. Had he been lying at the time, perceiving this was just what she’d wanted to hear?
“All men do, you say,” Tristram spoke in a voice which sounded mocking in the dark. “How well you seem to know the heart of men!”
His mockery stung, but Judith clamped her mouth shut, knowing it was no use to exchange angry words with him. She had well understood he no longer cared to hear anything she said. Yet she also noticed he had not said anything further of the sons he might wish to have one day. She suppressed a sigh, trying to chase away the heart-breaking feeling which enveloped her and striving not to think of the dreams she’d once had of a life where she would bear Tristram’s children.
“Go speak to the midwife. She would know how to advise you,” Tristram now commanded. “Her name’s Nell Tyler.”
“I know too well what her name is,” Judith retorted, hissing through gritted teeth.
But how did Tristram already know this woman? Judith recalled he had already visited the village several times since his arrival, so it was plain he must have met this woman there.
“I see you wasted no time in getting yourself acquainted with the people in my village,” she muttered savagely.
“Certainly. I am their lord, aren’t I?” Tristram countered. “Besides, I have at last learnt to speak their English quite well.”
He had. Ever since his arrival, Judith had noted Tristram no longer had any hardship in understanding or speaking the English of the North. It was now plain he’d learnt it. And she recalled the first time she’d spoken to him in her English, on one of those nights when they’d talked and laughed together and shared dreams of happiness. She closed her eyes, burying her head in the pillow and simply wanting to weep.
