Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,55

said. “If I ask you to render the marriage debt, you must obey.”

Matilda remained rigid in his hold for a moment, but as he began to kiss her, she set her irritation aside and gave in to him.

Geoffrey knew how to arouse her and the pleasure was often more intense when she was irritated or angry—like scratching an itch. He drew her to his bed, kissing her, awakening her desire. She felt his hand on her inner thigh, and then between her legs, stroking, rubbing, questing. Then he hissed through his teeth, but not with lust.

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“What’s this?” he demanded and, pulling back, held up the piece of moss she had inserted as a matter of routine that morning at her ablutions.

She stared, sick, horrified, and angry that she had been found out, but strangely relieved too. “Nothing,” she said. “It is a woman’s matter.”

“A woman’s matter?” he repeated. “I will know what it is, by God.”

“It’s a protection when the womb is delicate.”

“I know what this is,” Geoffrey snarled. “It’s a whore’s trick to prevent conception, isn’t it? I have heard of such things, but I did not think to find you engaged in such foul subterfuge!” He hurled the moss across the room.

Matilda swallowed and said nothing, waiting for him to hit her. He would beat her for this. Perhaps he would kill her, and that might not be such a bad thing. Or perhaps he really would seek annulment this time.

“Why?” he snarled, setting his hand around her throat and rolling over on top of her. “Why do you do this? To spite me?

Do you really hate me so much that you would deny me an heir? Do you think that God will forgive you for this? Who taught you these things? Your stepmother? Is that why she is barren? Is she a lying bitch too?”

“No!” Matilda gasped, choking at the constriction of his hand. “Adeliza knows nothing of this! It is of my own doing!” And yes it was in part to spite him and in the hopes of annulment, but she was not going to say so with his hand around her neck and his body shuddering over hers with incandescent rage. There was another reason too; one that made her eyes flood with tears. “I…my first son…He was…” She swallowed against his hand. “He was born deformed and I almost died in his bearing…I could not endure that again…” He removed his hand and bowed his head into the space 138

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between her shoulder and throat. She felt his body heaving against hers, and the slam of his heart against her ribs. “Your first husband was an old man,” he said after a moment. “I am not and my seed is potent, although you have been denying it ground to grow. If it is God’s will that you die in childbirth, then it is God’s will, but I will have sons of you. You will not deny me the right.”

He pushed her skirts out of the way and entered her in a swift, hard thrust. “You will bear my son,” he said.

When he had finished, Matilda lay on the bed and stared at the canopy while he panted beside her. She wasn’t sore because she had been ready, but she had taken no pleasure from the encounter. Did that mean she was safe this time? Did it mean her seed would not descend and mingle with his? Now he had found out, she was open and vulnerable. She had lost this particular battle and must prepare for the next one. If she did get with child, then she might die in the bearing, but at least it would be an honourable death, and while she was carrying, Geoffrey would not dare to touch her. The latter, at least, was an advantage.

He rolled over and sat up. “Take off your clothes,” he said, his eyes bright and predatory.

“What?” She looked at him in dismayed surprise.

He gestured to the open shutters. “It’s pouring down,” he said. “What better way for you and me to spend a wet afternoon than on the business of governance and making future policy?” ttt

Outside the lazar hospital at Fugglestone, built in close proximity to the nunnery of Wilton, Adeliza stooped to the final leper in the line and placed a loaf of bread in his bandaged hand.

The man bowed and thanked her with a crooked smile. A cloak of strong brown twill embraced