Bertrice Small - A Memory of Love

"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.

Rhonwyn nodded. "There is only one way I may come to know you better, Rafe," she said softly. "We have waited long enough."

"Aye!" he agreed, and then he swept her up into his arms and carried her from the hall, up the narrow staircase, through the solar past a startled Enit, and into their bedchamber. He shut the door firmly behind them, and set her on her feet, taking both her hands in his. He turned them over and placed a hot kiss in the center of each palm. Not a word was spoken between them.

Retrieving her hands from his light grasp, she undid her girdle and lay it aside. Her eyes locked onto his as she drew her gown off and placed it with the cincture. Sitting upon the single chair in the chamber, she held out a leg to him. Kneeling, Rafe drew the soft house shoe from her foot, and slipped the garter holding her stocking up off her. Slowly, slowly he rolled the stocking down her slender leg, tossing it aside as his dark head bent to kiss first her slim foot, and then to run a succession of kisses up her leg, stopping at the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

"Ummmmm," Rhonwyn murmured as a shiver ran down her back. "That is nice, husband." She offered him her other leg.

His fingers brushed the inside of her thigh teasingly and then he repeated his previous actions with her second leg. This time, however, when he had finished his reverence he pushed her chemise up as far as it would go and parted her legs. He stared for a long moment at her plump, pink Venus mons. The shadowed slash between her nether lips beckoned him, and unable to contain himself, he ran a finger lightly down it, smiling as he felt her shiver Opening her lips to his deeper view, he gazed upon the badge of her womanhood. It seemed to shimmer to his sight. "Jesu," he murmured low, "you are so beautiful there." Leaning forward, he kissed the moist flesh lightly.

"Oh, God!" Rhonwyn whispered, her voice ragged, and she shuddered at the touch of his tongue as it swept over her sensitive jewel.

Straightening, he closed her legs to his view. Taking her by the shoulders, he kissed her lips, his tongue plunging into the deep recess of her mouth to make contact with hers. She could taste her own salty muskiness as he teased at her. She almost swooned in his arms to her great surprise, for his desire was the most deeply sensual thing she had ever known. Hungrily she kissed him back, realizing very clearly how much she wanted to be loved by this man who was her husband. Not simply made love to, but loved.

Surprised by the intensity of her kiss, he released his grip on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes. "By the rood, wife!" he exlaimed, seeing the truth.

"If you gloat, Rafe, I swear I will slice your ears off!" she threatened him.

"I should be an odd sight then," he teased back gently, taking her hand in his and kissing the palm softly. "You are so damned proud, Rhonwyn uerch Llywelyn, and so I shall say it first. I love you, wife."

"For how long?" she demanded, but her heart was hammering with the incredible joy overtaking her entire being. He loved her!