at him without reproach, and indeed she had no right to reproach him.
But he wished she would.
He stroked her breasts again, feeling the difference in them. She must have fed the babe recently, for they were not full of milk, but they were different.
To his relief, his lust was somewhat under control, perhaps because it knew it would soon be assuaged. He was hard, and every nerve was humming, but he could wait.
A little.
For some reason, it seemed important, now the moment had come, that he not just rut like an unruly stallion.
He moved his leg over her slender ones while exploring with hand and lip the wonderful softness of her skin, the curves and edges of her bones, the silk of her hair. ...
He buried his face in her hair, fighting tears at the familiar feel and smell it, the stuff of dreams during exile, the stuff of torture now, as he shivered and his mind fell apart.
She had been passive, but suddenly her arms went around him, drawing him close, stroking down his back, over his buttocks, urging him over her, drawing him into her, so mat - shuddering with agonized relief - he was home without intent or consciousness.
He wept as he found his release, and wept afterward in her arms, feeling her own tears trickle down onto his skin.
They lay together in silence, speaking through their skin, renewing their senses in the taste and smell of each other.
Then Galeran laid his head against hers. "Why?" he whispered.
She shook her head. "Not now, not here." She slid down and took him in her mouth, licking, tasting, tormenting....
After a moment he found the strength to drag her back up to face him. "Are you trying to whore away your guilt?"
Her eyes sparked anger in her old manner. "Are you afraid I'll bite it off?"
He could keep demanding answers, but he saw in her face that he wouldn't get them here, not even with torture, so he settled for what he could get. He let her drive him wild with her lips and tongue and clever fingers, then en- tered her again in a fierce, violent passion that set the bed shaking and started her breasts pouring milk.
Their bodies slithered against each other, lubricated by the milk, and he started to laugh. She gave up trying to stop the flow and laughed, too, as she rose to meet him.
He licked the sweet milk off her, and she off him, as yet more spurted out to drench them and fuel their wild laughter, fuel their wild passion.
At the time of his last mighty thrust, there was a crack, a jolt, then one end of the bed collapsed, tumbling them, still interlocked, to the floor. Jehanne squealed, Galeran cursed, and the guard dashed in.
He stared. Then retreated, grinning.
After a frozen moment, Galeran and Jehanne dissolved into laughter again, rolling with it like children, wet and sticky among the ruins of the great bed.
When they finally sat up, however, Galeran's mind was clearing. "It would have been a clever move to half saw through that joint."
Jehanne's lingering smile disappeared. "By the Rood, Galeran, are you going to suspect every move I make?"
"Why not?"
She erupted to her feet. "Because of who I am! And anyway, I half expected you to whip me and send me to a convent, so why would I plan this pretty scene?"
"You were always capable of planning for many opportunities. And I might still. Whip you and send you to a convent, that is."
"I might prefer it to living with suspicion." She turned to the bed and wrenched back the mattress to inspect the wood. Then she swung to face him. "Look. Worm!"
He leaned closer. It clearly was worm, but a sour madness had taken control of him. "Not very good housekeeping," he pointed out. "I suppose it was merely good luck that the bed didn't collapse under you and Lowick."
And that was what really ate at him - the thought that the last time she'd joined in passion here it had been with another man. That she'd explored milky sex with another man . . .
She froze, half turned from him. "We never used this bed."
His relief was out of proportion to the words. "Why not?"
She walked away and pulled on her shift. "Probably because it was wormy."
Galeran sighed and rose to his feet. Another door slammed in his face. He watched her slip on her clothing, enjoying the way it settled over her damp curves as much