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?"