Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,100
a perplexed frown. “They are not causing harm.”
Adeliza shook her head. “I cannot,” she repeated. “I will run mad. They have escorted us here, and they have all seen the bed. Let that be enough. What else is there to see?”
“It is tradition,” he said, eyeing her as if she was making an unnecessary fuss. “It will soon be over.” She tightened her grip. “Please. For my sake.” He looked at her a moment longer; then his gaze softened and he sighed. “For my sake too,” he said with a small shake of his head. “I do not want a madwoman in my bed tonight.” Turning, he spread his arms and began gathering up and ushering the guests from the room, thanking them for their good wishes, being by turns assertive, polite, jesting, and rueful, but never taking no for an answer until the cloak of the last one had flipped out of the door and he was able to close it behind them and shoot the bar across. Leaning against the wood, he folded his arms. “There,” he said. “Is that better?”
“Thank you, yes.” She gave him a wan, grateful smile. “I thought it would not matter, but suddenly I could not face the thought of them all staring at us. It brought back too many memories.” She shivered and, rubbing her arms, went to the hearth.
“Now they will speculate to themselves,” he said, adding wryly, “undoubtedly led by Lady Maude of Wallingford. Small 248
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wonder that my lord FitzCount used to spend so much time at court.”
“You should feel sorry for her too,” Adeliza said. “She and Brian FitzCount are as mismatched a pair as were ever yoked to an ox cart.”
“And what of our own ox cart?” He checked that the door was secure and took a few steps towards her before stopping again, as if she were a wild creature and he was unsure how best to approach her.
“If I did not think we might manage to draw a straight furrow between us, I would never have consented to wed you.”
“I want to make new memories for you,” he said softly. “If you will allow me…but I do not know where to begin.” She looked at him standing there, doubtful now, when a few moments ago, for her sake, he had driven everyone from the room with authority. “Then let me help you.” Facing him, she unfastened the brooch at the neck of her gown, and then the one lower down. She lifted her arm and showed him the tight lacing from armpit to hip.
“My hands are too big for such a delicate task,” he said gruffly, but nevertheless came to unfasten the ties.
She did not ask him if he had ever done this before because she did not want to know. “No, see, they are not. You are deft when you choose to be.” She gave a little laugh and tried not to flinch as he accidentally tickled her. “There.” Easing the gown off her shoulders, she stepped out of it.
Very gently he removed her crown so that he could unpin the veil from her long, ash-brown hair; but then he replaced it on her head and took a backstep to look at her. “I have never seen anything so beautiful,” he said softly.
Adeliza stood very still beneath his scrutiny. His swift breathing and flushed complexion kindled a glow in the pit of her belly.
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“I am glad you asked them all to leave,” he said. “Because otherwise I would not have seen you like this.” He came closer again, cupped her face using one hand, and kissed her. His lips were warm and she could feel the heat and strength of his body. It was a good thing, she thought. Women’s humours were known to be cold and to sap a man’s strength. They needed a man’s heat to complete them, and if one’s mate was not sufficiently hot in his humours, then his seed might prove ineffectual. She had read every medical treatise she could while trying to conceive with Henry. She gave herself up to the kiss, and it was pleasant, as was the strength of his arms; yet he held her as delicately as he had held the crown, and she felt protected and secure.
With great ceremony he left her and, going to the bed, drew back the sheets, opening the covers for her like a gentleman.