Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,18

while she irritated him, he appreciated that their marriage was not one she would have chosen for herself had the decision been in her hands, because he no more measured up to her standards than she did to his ttt

Still red-cheeked and glowing from her walk, Maude looked at Brian expectantly. The servants had made up the great bed for the night and been dismissed, taking the dog pack with them.

“If we do not have an heir now, it will be too late,” she said.

“My fluxes barely come at all these days and you are returning to court within the week.” She jutted her fleshy jaw. “I am entitled to claim the marital debt from you. I know you have no desire for me, but this is not about desire, it is about procreation.” Brian bit his lip. If the situation had not been so appalling, he would have laughed. Besides, it was no laughing matter, because if he did not pay that debt, then he was violating his oath of marriage. She removed her wimple and gown. Reluctantly he took off his tunic and his shirt, but it was she who approached him. Her chemise was plain but clean. The smell of lye soap mingled with that of fresh sweat from her recent exercise. She rubbed her hands together to warm them and, without further ado, unfastened the drawstring on his braies. Delving down, she began to fondle him. Brian closed his eyes. He wasn’t a stallion in the breeding pen. He had never felt less amorous in his life and he was flaccid in her grip, which was becoming ever more desperate and vigorous. “Give me a moment,” he gasped, pushing her away. “Go and get into bed.” She heaved a sigh, but did as he bade, and lay back, hitching up her nightgown and opening her legs. Brian hastily snuffed the candle and climbed in beside her. It would be better in the dark, he told himself, easier to pretend. He banished the thought of Maude’s dimpled flesh from his mind; blotted out 46

LadyofEnglish.indd 46

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Lady of the English

too the smell of lye and sweat. He tried to ignore the grunt she made as he mounted her and imagined instead a lithe taut body scented with royal incense and roses, eyes the blue-grey of lavender flowers and a mouth that drove him wild. Such fancies in his mind, he became hard enough to do his duty. To enter her body and give her his seed. And once inside her, it became easier to envisage that this was not Maude but Matilda, and the act not just one of procreation, but of lovemaking.

When it was over he lifted himself off her and sat up, his ribs heaving. In the aftermath of release, he felt sullied, but at least he had given her what she wanted.

“There, there,” soothed Maude, patting his back as if he were a dog or a horse that had performed well. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“No,” he said, and thought that while he was relieved at a duty done, she was obviously satisfied that she could remove it from her own list of things to do while he was home. Her hand left him; she turned over and was soon asleep, soft snores catching at the back of her throat. Brian quietly dressed in the dark and went out. As he opened the door, he felt her dogs trotting past him into the room and he heard them leaping on to the bed, encouraged by Maude’s sleepy murmur of welcome.

Rousing a squire, he had the lad kindle a lantern and guide him to his own chamber. Let her have her dogs; he would seek the comfort of the written word.

47

LadyofEnglish.indd 47

6/9/11 5:35 PM

Six

Palace of Westminster, London, December 1126

Y ou will go to your grave with ink-stained fingers,” Robert of Gloucester told Brian with deep amusement.

Brian looked at his hands and gave a self-deprecating smile before concealing them beneath his cloak. “I think you are right.

The marks do come out, but by the time I get rid of one lot, more are waiting to take their place.” His expression sobered.

“There are worse stains in the world.” He glanced round.

Westminster’s great hall was packed with courtiers, all robed in their furs and finery. Snow had fallen earlier that morning and there was a light dusting on the ground, fine as flour. There had been much talk concerning the oath that the king was expecting everyone