Chapter 4
Chapter Four
A Wife’s Duty
ALDFRITH FOLLOWED CUTHBURH into the alcove and drew the heavy tapestry closed behind him. Over the past two moons this warm, comfortable space had become his refuge, the place he had found peace in the turmoil of his new life.
Now he would have to share it with another.
Hooting and catcalls followed them. His ealdormen, now well into their cups, had wanted to carry the newlyweds into the alcove and dump them onto the waiting bed of furs. Aldfrith had forbidden them.
His bride was frightened enough—such roughness would traumatize her.
The alcove had been prepared for them. Sprays of meadow flowers lay scattered across the plush furs covering the floor. Tallow candles burned either side of the pile of furs dominating one end of the space, illuminating the alcove in pale gold.
Aldfrith took two strides inside and stopped, watching his bride make her way over to the furs. She had a regal walk, with a straight spine and shoulders back; only the tension that rippled off her in waves gave her fear away.
She stopped, her back to him, and looked at the far wall as if hoping a door would appear there through which she could flee.
“I can’t remove my gown without your help, milord.” Her voice trembled.
Aldfrith unclipped the brooch fastening the wolfskin cloak to his shoulders and shrugged the mantle off.
Then he crossed to where Cuthburh stood silently waiting and began to unlace the back of her gown.
It was a beautiful, intricately sewn garment that would have taken a number of women many moons to make.
All for one special day.
He finished unlacing her gown and stepped back. He supposed he should slip it off her shoulders, take advantage of the moment to force intimacy, yet he did not. She was lovely though, and the smoothness of her skin made his breath catch.
After a moment she removed the gown, stepping out of it. Underneath, Cuthburh wore a thin gauzy tunic that revealed the slender length of her body, the curve of her buttocks, and the coltish length of her legs.
Aldfrith felt the stirrings of desire. It had been years since he had been this physically close to a girl, and it was hard not to be aroused by the sight of a beautiful half-naked woman standing before him.
Perhaps this union would not be such a burden after all.
“Turn around, Cuthburh,” he commanded softly.
Slowly, reluctantly, she complied.
From the front, she was even lovelier. High peaked breasts showed through the thin fabric, and he could see the shadow of the blonde triangle of her sex.
“You are beautiful,” he breathed, meaning it.
He had no feelings for his bride, he barely knew her, and yet he did at that moment want her.
Her face went rigid, and she looked down, appearing fascinated with the furs beneath her feet.
It’s just nervousness, he told himself. She isn’t as horrified as she looks.
Aldfrith unlaced the heavy tunic he wore and shrugged it off. Then he began to unfasten his breeches. However, when he saw his bride was now trembling like a reed in the wind, he stopped.
“Cuthburh …”
Her head bowed, a curtain of white-blonde hair obscuring her face, she did not answer him.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” he said after a long moment. “I will be gentle with you.”
She remained silent; if anything, her trembling increased.
Aldfrith inhaled deeply. He could not bed his wife while she was in this state. She needed to be calmed, soothed. He would show her that love play could be gentle, unthreatening.
He refastened his breeches before bending down to remove his boots. Then he stepped close to her, placing a hand upon her shoulder.
“Let us lie down upon the furs, Cuthburh.”
She nodded and wordlessly turned, padding across to where the pile of furs awaited. There she lay down, rolling over from him to face the wall.
Aldfrith stretched out next to her. They were close, barely a handspan apart. After a long moment, Aldfrith reached out and stroked her shoulder. Her skin was as smooth as it looked. His groin hardened in response, and he suddenly became aware of the heat and nearness of her body.
“Do you know what happens?” he asked for a moment, continuing to caress her. “Between a man and his wife … have the other women told you?”
“Aye.” Her voice was choked. “It sounds vile.”
Taken aback, Aldfrith stilled his caresses. “It doesn’t have to be,” he replied finally. “It can give pleasure. We must lie together as man and wife … if we are to have children.”
“I don’t want them,” Cuthburh answered, speaking the words in short panicked gasps. “I was to be a nun … I don’t want to be a wife or a mother.”
And I don’t want to be a king … but sometimes we don’t get a choice in matters.
“Cuthburh.” He reached out once more and placed a hand on her upper arm. “We were given a duty, you and I, to unite Northumbria and Wessex in marriage. We must fulfill it.”
She turned to him then, so swiftly that they nearly collided. Her face shocked Aldfrith. Gone was the meek, blushing bride. An enraged young woman with cold eyes glared at him instead.
“Don’t touch me,” she snarled. “The devil take duty. I will not lie with you.”
Osana was sitting upon a stool, brushing her hair, when Raedwulf stumbled into their alcove.
Disappointment flooded through her at the sight of his florid face and glazed eyes. She had hoped, even whispered a prayer, that he would drink himself into a stupor with the other men and fall asleep at the table. However, God had not answered her.
“Good eve, wife,” Raedwulf greeted her with a grin. “I have not forgotten my promise to you, see?” His gaze raked over the long tunic she wore. “Take that off.”
Osana put down her hairbrush. “I’m tired, Raedwulf … can’t we just go to sleep?”
Raedwulf shrugged off his tunic and started unlacing his breeches.
He was a strongly built man. Crisp blond hair covered a muscular chest. The bronze and silver arm rings he wore gleamed in the light of the cressets burning on the alcove wall.
Yet Osama was not inflamed by the sight of his half-naked body.
Her stomach clenched. Just leave me alone.
He finished unlacing his breeches and freed his manhood. Red and swollen, it thrust up at her, eager and hungry.
“I’m not ready to sleep yet. Take off your tunic, wife,” he growled, impatient now, “and get down on your hands and knees.”
Osana recognized the warning edge in his voice. If she hesitated any longer, he would rip her tunic off her and take her roughly. She tensed, hating him at that moment. However, she knew that if she did as bid it would be over soon enough.
Rising to her feet, Osana pulled the tunic over her head and lowered herself on all fours onto the furs. Then she closed her eyes and prepared to be serviced.