Chapter 18 #2
Before them, the Welsh bard entertained all with his lively music, accompanied by the lyre, a reed instrument Serena told him was a shawm, a drum and a pipe whistle.
The bard kept darting glances at Serena, as he strolled among the wedding guests singing his Welsh tunes, which caused Renaud to wonder what still lay between them.
At the high table, Maugris kept them entertained with stories of other brides and bridegrooms, including the story of Renaud’s parents’ wedding.
Though he had heard it before the story still held a kind of charm for him.
It was, by all accounts, the one time his stern father had allowed himself to appear besotted.
The wise one delighted in retelling the story and said Renaud’s father would be quite pleased with the turn of events at Talisand.
“I must send your father and brothers an account of your success and your beautiful bride,” said the wise one.
Renaud didn’t smile. He wondered, instead, if he was yet successful.
He had claimed his bride, but there was still Morcar and Sir Hugue to contend with.
And what of Serena’s brother? Might he show up any day with a band of wild Scots to protest what had happened to his sister and try and retake his lands?
* * *
Aethel heard the lively music drifting up from the wedding celebration to the bedchamber where she kept watch on the handmaiden.
She did not mind missing the gaiety. It was meager penance for her part in Morcar’s scheme and her failure to see that Serena had changed her mind and was truly resigned to marrying the Red Wolf.
With a shudder, Aethel reflected on what might still happen to her if the Red Wolf were to learn of her perfidy.
I pray, in time, all will be forgiven.
A quiet knock drew Aethel’s eyes to the door, which opened to reveal the hulking form of Sir Alain.
“If ye’re here to see Cassie, she’s sleeping.”
“Nay, Aethel. I am here to see you.”
The big, burly knight stepped into the room making the chamber seem smaller. “Me?”
“Aye.” He reached back and closed the door, darting a glance at the sleeping handmaiden before he slowly walked toward Aethel. “When I heard that the guards had been given a potion, I immediately thought of you with your knowledge of herbs. It was you, was it not?”
She rose from the bench. “I meant her no harm. I thought she wanted to leave.”
“Does Lady Serena know of your involvement?”
“Yea, she does,” Aethel said contritely. “I think she has forgiven me.”
“All that to the good, it is time you had a husband to keep you from further mischief, Aethel.”
She looked into his hazel eyes and decided with not even a kiss between them that she wanted him to be that husband. “Mayhap ye are right, sir knight.”
“Aye, I am.” He closed the small distance between them, wrapped his powerful arms around her and, drawing her close, kissed her.
She knew then she would never want another man.
* * *
Serena could not take her eyes off her husband.
He had come to their wedding magnificently attired like the Norman lord he now was.
He wore a tunic of the darkest blue over a cream undertunic and brown hosen crisscrossed by leather straps.
On his feet were short leather boots. At his waist was a belt of silver to which was secured a scramaseax; the handle of the long knife was studded with silver.
Around his neck was a wide necklace of gold and silver bejeweled with the same stones that decorated the sword he had given her.
On his head was a black velvet cap that gave him a regal appearance with the chestnut waves of his hair curling at his nape.
The warrior was cloaked and the earl revealed in all his splendor.
Admittedly, he was a magnificent exemplar of a man.
“My lord, you appear as one on his way to your king’s court,” said Serena, unable to resist a grin.
Setting down his goblet of silver, he smiled. “And would you look forward to a visit to William’s court, wife?”
Serena stared at their shared trencher. “Nay, I confess I would not.”
“William may yet visit Talisand, Serena. You should be prepared. He will want to see his castle. And I’ve heard rumors of discontent in the north that may draw him to Northumbria before the year is out.”
Serena had not forgotten what Morcar had told her about the anticipated gathering of the Northumbrians and their allies, but she said nothing, only worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she considered what might take place in that city.
She preferred to think of Steinar safely in Scotland and her new husband safely at Talisand, not meeting on a battlefield. Yet she feared it might be inevitable.
They finished the meal, and Renaud took her hand leading her from the dais to the area cleared for dancing.
The tables had been pushed close to the walls allowing the couples to dance around the central hearth, which did not bear a fire this day.
Instead, the wooden shutters were thrown open to allow the sunlight to fill the hall.
The music of the harp, lyre, bone whistle and drum urged them to join the others.
The steps involved much turning and gesturing as Renaud led her through the dances he knew.
Sir Geoffroi and Eawyn joined them, as did the rest of the knights and many of the villagers.
Soon every maiden was partnered with either a Norman or an Englishman.
The hall was crowded with bodies moving in time to the music.
Angus pulled Maggie into the twirling couples, causing Serena to smile.
“You are pleased, my lady?” Renaud asked her.
“Aye, my lord. It has been a long while since any at Talisand had cause to dance.”
* * *
Sunlight from the windows in the hall shimmered in Serena’s flaxen curls drawing Renaud’s gaze to her beautiful face and to the swells of her breasts rising above the neckline of the elegant gown, enticing him beyond measure.
Content he had finally claimed his English bride, he wanted to be alone with her.
To lay her down on their bed and make long, lingering love to her.
Enough eating, dancing and celebration. He wanted his bride naked in his bed. And he wanted her now.
As their heads passed close with the movement of the dance, he whispered in her ear, “When the music ends, my lady, we are away to our chamber.”
Serena blushed as he’d expected she would. Still new to lovemaking, she had much to learn before she would be comfortable with all he wanted to share with her. But her passionate response to his forays the day before told him she would enjoy what was to come.
The song ended and Renaud swept Serena into his arms and carried her from the hall with much cheering and ribald raillery shouted from his men.
“My lord!” Serena gasped as they passed through the doorway leading from the hall to the manor. “Must you carry me like a sack of grain?”
“Ah, Serena,” he replied kissing her on the forehead while striding through the entry, “it is but a small thing to hasten our departure. Besides, my men heartily approve, and your maidens are all bearing smiles. I like having you at my disposal.”
Up the stairs he hurried with his bride in his arms. Kicking open the door to his bedchamber, he crossed the room and tossed her playfully upon the bed’s cover.
“You have little idea what torture I experienced at being so close to you yet allowing propriety to have its sway. Now you are mine!”
He closed the door and returned to her, unlacing her gown and sliding it from her.
“I see you are in haste to dispense with my clothing, my lord. Would you like me to help divest you of yours?”
“Saucy wench,” he said with a grin.
Her arms were outstretched to him, but he was too anxious to wait. Setting aside his blade and belt, he pulled his tunic over his head. Kicking off his boots, he doffed his shirt, leaving him only in his braies and hosen.
Casting her a smile, he fell upon her, raining kisses down her neck and over her face as her arms wound around him.
He took her mouth in a gentle assault, his tongue reaching for hers.
He pressed his hips to her belly and felt his passion rise.
She wrapped one of her legs around his as she returned his kiss.
Raising his head, he looked into her violet eyes, darkening with her pleasure. “You are not in a hurry, are you my love?”
She blushed. “You have made me eager with your kisses.”
“Not so eager as I.” And with that he made short work of their remaining clothes to leave them both naked.
Her flesh was soft and warm and he wanted to sink his shaft deep within her.
His gaze devoured her. She was so lovely, skin as luminous as cream, her rose tipped breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths.
He could wait no longer to sample them. Threading his fingers through hers and raising her hands above her head on the pillow, he pressed his shaft against the juncture of her thighs and she opened to him.
Taking a nipple into his mouth to feast upon the hard crested peak, he pressed against her moving his hips in an action designed to drive her wild.
“Oh, Renaud…”
Quickly he let go of her hands and moved his mouth to her nether region where he lapped at her wetness with his tongue, feeling her shiver beneath his hands kneading her breasts.
“So ready, so soon,” he said. He could not wait a minute longer to have his bride. Rising above her and positioning his shaft at her entrance, he plunged deep.
Serena inhaled and sighed out her breath.
She was so tight, her muscles gripping his shaft with a vengeance; it took all his control not to spill his seed.
But he had no intention of quickly concluding this lovemaking.
Slowing his heart from its racing pace, he began to move while bending his head to kiss her deeply.
She clung to him raising her hips to accept his thrusts.
He raised his head to look at her face flushed with passion.
“Your leisurely pace inflicts its own pleasant torture,” she spoke huskily.
“’Twas my intent, my lovely Serena. I would extend this time beyond our enduring.” With his warrior’s control, Renaud took his time until she was near the peak only to back off ’til her passion subsided, and then to raise it again ’til she was moaning beneath him, tossing her head on the pillow.
Soaked in the sweat of their lovemaking, he plunged deep, hard and fast, and together shouted their release.
And this was just the beginning of a night Renaud knew he would never forget.