Chapter Sixteen
Tiberius made it as far as he could that night, moving through the dwindling suburbs of London, looking for a decent place to spend the night with his new wife.
Contrary to his habits in the past, where he was willing to take a woman any time or any place so long as his sexual urges were satisfied, he wanted his wedding night with Douglass to be as special as he could make it. Already, it meant something to him.
From the White Friars section, he made it up to Holborn Street and headed west, away from the smelly, dark city, traveling through the boroughs with their small homes, all nestled together along the avenue, like berries clinging to a vine.
Holborn turned north and he traveled up to the main road of Westway, which took them out of the city.
Soon, the structures thinned out and they continued along a stretch of road, plodding along beneath the full moon, until they came to another group of structures that were situated along a crossroads.
There was a two-storied tavern on the northeast corner of the crossroads and the sign that was hung from an iron rod announced The Hummingbird and the Rose.
Tiberius didn’t want to travel any more tonight and he hoped that the tavern had an empty room.
If not, he wasn’t beyond throwing someone out so he could take the bed.
Wearily dismounting Storm, he led the beast around the side of the tavern, with Douglass still on the horse, until he came to a small yard behind the building with an equally small stable.
There was a boy just inside the door, sleeping on the straw, and Tiberius kicked the lad’s foot to awaken him.
The boy, with straw in his hair, leapt up and rubbed his eyes at the sight of the knight and lady. He approached the big, gray charger to take him but the horse snapped its teeth at him and the boy jumped back, eyes wide. With a smirk, Tiberius muzzled the beast before turning him over to the lad.
“Make sure he has a manger of feed in front of him before you unmuzzle him,” he told the boy. “He’ll be distracted by the food and less apt to take your arm off. Do you have any cold porridge?”
The lad blinked his eyes in confusion. “Porridge, m’lord?”
Tiberius pointed at the horse. “He loves it,” he said. “Give him some porridge and he will consider you his friend.”
The lad seemed to think that was a very good idea and, confident his horse would be well tended, Tiberius pulled Douglass off of the saddle and set her on her feet. Collecting his saddlebags, he took his wife by the hand and led her into the tavern by the back door.
The inn was crowded inside, which was odd because it clearly hadn’t looked crowded from the outside. Smoke floated in a thin mist along the ceiling and Tiberius had to duck his head to keep from hitting it as they passed through the narrow doorway that connected the kitchens to the common room.
The common room was full of drunk, loud people; several soldiers near the door at the far end with a few wenches between them, the occasional traveling merchant, and other travelers and visitors.
The tavern keeper and his employees were very busy keeping everyone full of food and alcohol but when the man spied Tiberius standing at the edge of the room, he quickly made his way towards him through the rabble.
“M’lord,” he greeted, wiping his hands on his dirty, stained tunic. “What’ll it be?”
Tiberius kept a tight grip on Douglass in this room full of men with little self-control. “A room for my wife and me,” he told the man. “The best room in the place.”
The tavern keeper lifted his eyebrows. “I only have the master’s room available,” he said. “It will cost you.”
“I will take it.”
“Let me see your coin first.”
Under normal circumstances, Tiberius would have been grossly insulted by that comment, but with Douglass at his side he found he couldn’t become too angry about it.
He didn’t want to upset her, especially on the night of their wedding.
Therefore, he dug into his purse and produced a gold crown, more than enough to pay for a room and meal. The tavern keeper took it gladly.
“Up the stairs and go to the right,” he told them. “It is the last door on the right. I will send food up to you.”
Tiberius didn’t even thank the man, still miffed by a demand to show coin. There was little trust in doing business these days. Grasping Douglass by the hand, he pulled her up the stairs with him, following the tavern keeper’s directions until they reached the master’s room.
Douglass entered first, observing the room they had paid so handsomely for.
It was dark, with a cold fire and no illumination anywhere.
As Tiberius came in behind her, carrying their possessions, she stumbled into the very big bed, feeling around for a flint on the table next to it.
There was a small taper and, as Tiberius bumped into something in the darkness behind her and grunted in pain, Douglass found the flint and lit the taper.
“Did you hurt yourself?” she asked, holding up the taper to illuminate the chamber.
Tiberius set their possessions down on the bed, rubbing his knee. “Not much,” he said. “Usually, I hit my head, not a knee.”
Douglass grinned, setting the taper down. “You are the tallest man I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Our children will probably be giants.”
He gave her a half-grin. “Let us hope the girls are not,” he said. “It would be difficult finding them husbands.”
She gasped in mock outrage. “My daughters have not yet been born and already you are marrying them off,” she said. “Allow me to spend the first few months of their lives with them, at least.”
Tiberius snorted at her, humorously, as he moved to the hearth to start the fire. “What about the boys?” he asked. “Do you want to spend the first few months of their lives with them before I send them off to foster?”
Douglass sat on the bed, which was rather comfortable and surprisingly clean, watching as Tiberius lit the kindling in the hearth.
“Of course,” she said. Her gaze lingered on him as she grew serious.
“I look at you and I can still hardly believe we are married. After everything that has happened, it does not seem possible.”
Tiberius stacked more peat onto the new blaze, watching it catch fire.
“You have me for life, lady,” he said, turning to grin at her.
“I will tell you about some things now that it is too late for you to change your mind. I snore, I like to eat and drink to excess, and I forget to bathe. I have gone months without bathing until my brothers force me into water so I will not offend their wives.”
Douglass bit her lip to keep from grinning. “I will do the same,” she said. “Have no fear that I will make sure you bathe once a week whether you want to or not. You will not offend me with your smell, either, or I will kick out of our bed and force you to sleep with the pigs.”
He laughed, standing up and brushing his hands off. “So you think to kick me from our bed, do you?” he said thoughtfully, but it was all a ruse. Suddenly, he flopped onto the bed beside her, pulling her down with him. “Think again, Lady de Shera.”
Douglass shrieked with surprise as Tiberius pushed her to the mattress and partially covered her with his big body.
The man was easily twice her size and she found great comfort and great excitement in that knowledge.
But she was also quite virginal, having never even been kissed by a man before she met Tiberius, so his intimate closeness, so suddenly, rattled her.
She was having trouble forming a coherent thought as Tiberius began to nibble her tender earlobe.
“Ty?” she gasped. “What… what are you doing?”
Tiberius, vastly experienced in lovemaking, could hear the apprehension in her voice. He was very careful with her, his hand on her face as he gently kissed and suckled her neck and ear.
“What does it look like?” he asked. “I am tasting my wife for the first time. You knew I would, did you not?”
“You did not marry me simply to bed me, did you?”
“Nay,” he murmured, his lips on her neck. “I married you because I love you.”
Douglass didn’t know what to say to that.
She was staring up at the ceiling, becoming acquainted with the feel of Tiberius next to her, his lips on her flesh.
It was rather pleasurable. In fact, it was more than pleasurable.
She liked it a great deal. As the fire in the hearth crackled and popped, gaining speed, Tiberius’ hands began to move.
As his lips nibbled on the tender skin of her shoulder, his big hand moved up her arm, to her neck and face, and finally to her hair.
He pulled all of that glorious golden-red hair over his face, smelling its delicate scent, acquainting himself with the texture.
It was one of the most erotic experiences of his life, already finding great pleasure in even the simplest of things.
Her hair was glorious and he ran his fingers through it, rubbing it against his stubbled cheeks and thinking that it felt like silk.
“I can hardly believe you actually belong to me,” he whispered.
“When I first met you, marriage to anyone was the furthest thing from my mind. But with both of my brothers married, I knew there would be a time when I would have to prepare for it. That day you smacked me over the head as I tried to save you was the best day of my life.”
Douglass, utterly breathless over his attentions, giggled at the remark. “Will you ever forgive me?”
Tiberius growled suggestively. “I am sure I will,” he said. “There is much that you can do to convince me to forgive and forget.”
Douglass knew he meant something intimate, sexual even, but beyond that she had no idea what he truly meant or how to respond. She started to giggle, nervously. “I am sure you will tell me what you want from me.”
Tiberius growled again, this time more gently. “Better still,” he murmured. “Let me show you.”