Bertrice Small - A Memory of Love

"Ah," Rafe said, and then he grinned at her. "And being fearless, wife, you went on to taste and experience all the pleasures of the flesh, did you not? I hope the caliph taught you well, for I am a man with a prodigious appetite for carnal delights."

"But you will not force me," Rhonwyn taunted him. "You have said it yourself, my lord, that until I desire you, you will not have me." Her fingers reached up and caressed his cheek, sliding down the curve of his visage and trailing across his lips.

He caught her hand and shoved her fingers into his mouth, sucking upon them vigorously, his eyes meeting hers in a silent challenge.

"You said you would not force me," she quickly reminded him.

He licked her fingers dry and kissed the tips of the digits before releasing them. "I said, lady, that I should not force you. I did not say I should not tease you, fondle you, caress you, or kiss you. I said I would not force you."

"Is what you have said not coercion?" she demanded. Her fingers were tingling.

"You are proud, Rhonwyn, and you are a poor liar. You lust for me every bit as much as I lust after you, but you refuse to admit to it." Yanking her up, his arms closed about her. Their lips were dangerously close. "Tell me now that you do not want me!"

"I do not want you!" she cried.

"Liar!" he mocked her, and then he kissed her lips. They trembled beneath his, soft and yielding despite her protest. "Tell me you do not want me," he said once more.

"Bastard!" she hissed at him fiercely.

"Say the words, Rhonwyn," he pressed her.

"But you don't believe me," she half sobbed. Her heart was pounding wildly. Her legs felt like straw.

"Nay, wife, 1 don't. Edward was foisted upon you, as was your caliph. I am the first, the only man, whom you have ever truly desired with ever fiber of your being, Rhonwyn. Why do you deny so desperately what is so plain to me?" His mouth brushed hers again. "So proud. So fierce. So damnably sweet," he crooned low to her. "Do not fight it, lovely, I beg of you!"

She struggled against his grip. "You claim I am proud," she cried. "Your pride is far worse than mine, Rafe de Beaulieu. Let me be! You have promised not to force me, and I will not have you! Can you not understand me?"

He kissed her brow. "You will come to me sooner than later, wife," he told her as his grip loosened suddenly, and she almost fell.

Recovering, she stood facing him, her cheeks pink, her green eyes wide. "What makes you think I want you?" she demanded.

"I see it in your emerald eyes," he told her. "You trembled in my arms, and I felt the little nipples of your breasts hardening against my chest. Your mouth was sweet and did not deny me, Rhonwyn."

"I cannot remain here," she said desperately. "You are a devil, Rafe de Beaulieu! You confuse me with your wicked tongue!"

"Oh, my darling," he said, laughing, "you haven't begun to know the impact of my wicked tongue upon you, but you soon will."

She turned away from him. He was right, damn him! For the first time in her life she actually desired a man. She had almost desired Edward, and the caliph's passion had opened her eyes to the pleasures that could exist between a man and a woman, but she had never truly wanted a man as she wanted this one. But it was wrong! To give in to his wicked cajolery before they knew more about one another was not right. This was the man she would be married to until death. She wanted his respect, and if she was to have it, she must not yield to his taunts like some common whore of the streets. Drawing a deep breath, Rhonwyn turned herself about and looked directly at her husband.

"Aye, I do desire you," she admitted, "but I am not being coy when I ask you for a bit of time so we may know one another better. Because I have lived in a harem does not make me a loose woman, Rafe. Do you understand how I feel?"

He sighed. "Aye," he told her, "I do, but waiting will not make me want you any less, lovey."

Rhonwyn laughed. "1 don't want you to desire me less, husband," she said. "I just want to know the man I am wed to better than I knew the last one. Perhaps we can learn to love one another in the romantic sense, but I seek your respect as well. Neither of us are children, Rafe, and we have both known passion. There is little that can surprise us, my lord, so let us be patient for now."

"You surprise me, Rhonwyn," he told her.

"Sometimes I surprise myself," she returned.

"If you had been Eve, and I, Adam," he said, "I believe we should still be within the Garden of Eden, wife."

Rhonwyn was unable to restrain her chuckle. "Perhaps," she said.

They stood awkwardly for a long moment, staring at one another, and then he said, "It is almost time for the meal, wife. Let us go down into the hall together. Tomorrow you must begin to learn the ways of this household. Browne will help you, I promise. He is a good man. It is he who trained Kate properly after our parents died."

The meal was simple. There was a broiled trout and a venison stew along with bread and cheese. They both ate with good appetites. Afterward they sat together by the fire in high-backed wooden chairs with tapestried cushions. A huge gray wolfhound with a rough coat came and put his large head in Rhonwyn's lap. Delighted, she stroked the beast until his dark eyes closed in obvious pleasure.

"His name is Flint," Rafe said. "I have never before seen him take to anyone. He has always been very aloof."

"He was but waiting for me," Rhonwyn told her husband, and as if to agree, Flint's eyes opened, and he barked.

They both laughed.

"So you like dogs, do you?" Rale said.

"Cythraul had a small pack of them," she replied, "and there were animals at Haven, although none ever attached itself to me as this charming fellow has." Flint was now lying at her feet.

"Having done so, he'll guard you with his own life," Rafe told her seriously. "That is the way wolfhounds are if they attach themselves to any one person."

Flint ambled upstairs after them, and Rafe allowed him to sleep before the fire in the solar.

"Not our bedchamber?" Rhonwyn teased him.

"First he'd be on the floor, and then he'd push me right out of our bed," Rafe said. "Don't think I don't understand his tactics, wife."

Enit helped her mistress to wash and disrobe, then sought her bedspace in the solar. Rhonwyn climbed into the big bed with the dark green hangings. Turning on her side, she waited nervously for Rafe to join her, wondering if he would keep his promise. She found herself a little disappointed when he did, and when she awoke in the morning he had already gone.

Browne began guiding her through the business of being Ardley's new mistress.

The household was small and practically ran itself, but there were certain things done in season that were Rhonwyn's responsibility as mistress of the household.

"Most have been done for the year," Browne told his mistress, "for even though Lady Katherine is now at Haven, she would not allow her brother's household to falter. It will soon be time for the making of the October ale. The apples and pears are being harvested now and must be made into conserves or dried for winter use, and of course the pigs will need to be slaughtered for winter."

"I've never done such work," Rhonwyn admitted. "When I lived at Haven, these things were done by others."

"And so they will be here, my lady" Browne said in kindly tones, "but Ardley being a small manor, it will be up to its lady to oversee all these tasks. Do you know how to make salves and other medicines?"

"Aye, I was taught at the convent," Rhonwyn replied.

"It is a good time to seek out the berries, roots, and leaves you will need for that endeavor," Browne remarked. "Shall I call Enit and fetch a basket for you, my lady?"

"Yes," she told him. By the rood! She had missed what it was like to be a lady of the manor. Her time at Haven had been short, and in the harem she had done nothing more strenuous than gossip in the baths with Alia and the other women while beautifying herself for the caliph's visits. She had almost forgotten that a good English chatelaine's days were scheduled to match the march of the seasons. If they were to survive the winter, there was a great deal that would have to be done. Having lived at Haven, Rhonwyn remembered that Shropshire had the worst winters in all of England.

September and October flew by. The ale was made and sealed in barrels. The fruit was preserved by either drying or enclosing in jugs of honey and wine. Rhonwyn was delighted when her husband invited her to go hunting. Over the next few weeks they brought back several deer and a number of water fowl, which were hung in the larder. Rhonwyn purchased a barrel of cod and directed her servants to salt the fish in order to preserve it over the coming winter months.

At Martinmas they had goose, and Edward came in his wife's company to Ardley for the family feast. He could hardly wait to tell his brother-in-law and his former wife that Katherine was once again with child. It would be born next summer.

"You must not allow him to wear you out with childbearing," Rhonwyn scolded Kate. "This child will be born only thirteen months after its sibling. Go to Enit's mother afterward. She will help you to avoid conceiving again too soon."

"Such a thing is forbidden," Katherine said piously. "Edward would be very angry should he ever learn of such a thing."

"He will be angrier if you die too soon. Do you want your babes raised by an uncaring stepmother? He sensible, Kate. Rafe would certainly agree with me, I know," Rhonwyn told her sister-in-law.

"I do not need Rafe telling me what to do as he always did before I wed with Edward," Kate said heatedly.

"Doesn't Edward tell you what to do?" Rhonwyn asked.

"Edward is my husband," Kate answered with what she consid-erd perfect logic.

"What were you and my sister discussing so hotly?" Rafe asked her afterward when their guests had departed.

"Kate is sweet, but she is a dolt," Rhonwyn said bluntly, and told him of their conversation.

Rafe's visage grew concerned. "I will talk to her," he said firmly.

"Don't," Rhonwyn warned. "She will not listen. I will have Enit's mother conspire with her other daughter, who is Kate's maidservant. They will see Kate is protected from her foolishness."

"You are a good wife," Rafe said.

"Not yet, my lord, but soon, 1 promise," Rhonwyn told him. "Soon I will be the best wife you could ever have, Rafe."

The hall was practically silent. The fire crackled, and Flint snored contentedly, his massive head on his paws. The servants had disappeared, the meal having been cleared away an hour ago. Outside the windows a winter storm howled unrelentingly, the snow and ice beating against the windows as the shutters rattled with each windy blast. Rhonwyn and Rafe sat before the blazing fire, a chess table between them. They were well matched in skill, and the nightly battle between them was indicative of the other silent battle they fought.

Her fingers toyed with the carved ash-wood chess piece as she contemplated her next move. "Do you think the storm will be over by morning?" she wondered aloud, not even looking up as she finally moved her queen.

Rafe studied the outline of the chessboard now. "Nay, wife, this is a bad storm even for Shropshire. It may end by tomorrow's nightfall, but certainly not before." He checked her queen.

"By the rood!" Rhonwyn swore, surprised. She had not considered his clever move and felt a slight tingle of irritation as he removed her piece from the board.

He laughed. "Are you ready to concede this match, wife?"

Rhonwyn searched the chessboard for a way out, but finding none, she said, "I surmise I must. What forfeit will you have, my lord?"

"A kiss," he told her. "On the lips, wife."

Now it was Rhonwyn who laughed. "I did not expect you to kiss my hand, my lord," she told him and, standing, said, "Come, and receive your prize then."

Rising, he moved around the table and took her into his arms. His silver blue eyes searched her face, and to her chagrin, Rhonwyn blushed. His eyes asked her the one question that until now she was not ready to answer. She initiated the kiss, quickly pulling down his head to give him the answer he had been waiting for for the past five months, as their lips met tenderly in a sweet, but brief kiss.

"You are certain, wife?" His look challenged her.