Chapter 15 #2
He kissed his way back up to her mouth and slipped his leg between her thighs, opening her to his touch. He was gentle, not sure how strong she was. But after only a few strokes through her damp, ready flesh, she nudged away his hand. “I can wait no longer.”
Geoff raised above her, positioned himself at her entrance and in one thrust sank deeply into her warm, tight sheath. She wrapped her legs around him and threaded her fingers through his hair as she pulled his head to her, kissing him with abandon.
Her tongue tangled with his as they moved together. She broke the kiss to press her cheek to his, holding tightly on to his shoulders. “Geoffroi,” she whispered, as she clung to him, “oh, Geoffroi.”
He was surrounded by the woman he loved, happily drowning in his passion for her. Their bodies grew slick with sweat as they moved more swiftly.
He felt her muscles constrict with her release. It was all he needed to send him over the precipice. His own release came with a storm-like violence.
Coming back to awareness, he kissed her temple and rolled to the side, bringing her with him. For a time he drifted, content just to hold her.
She tucked her head into his shoulder and laid her hand on his chest.
“Are you all right?” he asked, hoping he had not been too rough.
“Oh, yea. I am,” she said, moving her fingers through the smattering of hair on his chest.
Geoff began to drift toward sleep. The knock on the door below sounded loudly in the quiet of Emma’s bedchamber, startling him from the twilight just before sleep.
He gave out an exasperated sigh. “I had best see who comes before they storm the door and find us like this.”
With great reluctance, he climbed from the bed and donned his braies, leggings, tunic and leather boots.
Running a hand through his tousled hair, he descended the stairs and unlatched the front door. Alain stood next to Mathieu, their cloaks dusted with snow. The Bear’s arm was draped over the squire’s shoulder.
“Remember us?” Alain asked with a grin.
He managed only a droll smile, knowing his hair was likely mussed and his color high. “Aye, how could I forget? What brings you here?” He gestured them inside where he had kept the hearth fire going and shut the door, closing out the bitter winds of winter.
Reaching for a pitcher on the table, he was about to pour them some mead when Mathieu took the pitcher from him. “I can do that, sir.”
Geoff tipped his head to the squire and allowed the squire to serve the knights.
“William asks for you,” said Alain, taking a drink of the honeyed wine Mathieu had poured him. “He would have you attend the crown-wearing ceremony he intends to hold tomorrow as a part of his Christmas celebration.”
“In the ashes of the Minster, no doubt,” observed Geoff, running a hand through his tangled hair, trying to imagine such a ceremony.
“I suppose he must make his show,” Alain replied.
“He sent men to retrieve his crown and king’s robes all the way from Winchester,” said Mathieu, setting down his empty cup.
Geoff’s companions had never questioned his love for the daughter of the rebel leader. They did not question him now. But they would remind him of his duty. The crown-wearing ceremony was yet another demonstration that William was the lawful King of England. Geoff must attend.
“At least the ceremony will not be far from here,” he said, “and Emma is nearly well.” Looking at Alain, he asked, “Will you stay with her while I pay homage to the king?”
“Aye. I will take the watch while you are away,” Alain replied.
“If you need me, I am at your disposal,” said Mathieu.
Geoff placed his hand on the squire’s shoulder. “I could not have tended Emma without your help. You, too, Alain. I am in your debt.”
Alain smiled, the genuine warmth of it eclipsing the scar on his jaw. “The mead is much appreciated.”
The next day, Geoff was present amidst the blackened walls of the Minster for the ceremony.
The king, wearing crown and robes, sat in a newly built chair, looking as regal as if he were in Westminster.
To Geoff it was a dim shadow of what might have been had Archbishop Ealdred lived and the fire not destroyed the church.
But despite the miserable setting, William was announcing his rule in the North.
It mattered little to him that he did so among the ruins of a once proud cathedral.
The ceremony was brief. William had made his point and clearly did not wish to linger among the ruins of the once beautiful edifice. He and his men, Geoff among them, retired to the hall in the new square tower to eat the Christmas feast.
The roast goose was served on silver plates that William’s men had retrieved from Winchester along with the king’s crown and royal robes.
Geoff was certain the feast paled in comparison to what William would have enjoyed in London, but it was not the food that was important to his sovereign.
It was the record history would make that it was King William who dined in York this Christmas, not Edgar AEtheling or Swein of Denmark.
After the meal was finished and they had toasted the day, William disbursed vast tracts of land to his loyal followers, for he was rich with demesnes from those he had claimed as king.
Geoff was among those rewarded. He was relieved the lands were not in the wasteland that was now Yorkshire.
Instead, William awarded him lands abutting the great demesne of Talisand.
His friend, the Red Wolf, would be pleased, as was Geoff.
But the price had been high. Not just the decimation of Emma’s people, which he would regret forever, but he had to wonder if the price had included his honor.
He believed he had turned from the brutality William inflicted on the North before it was too late, and in doing so, had saved the lives of innocents, but he would always wonder if he could have done more.
As he rode back to Emma’s, he longed for only two things: Emma as his wife and peace. Both were very much in doubt. Emma might love him, but would she come with him to Talisand? He already knew William was not finished putting down rebellions and would demand Geoff’s sword arm.
* * *
Heated male voices woke Emma from sleep.
“She should come to Talisand where she will be safe.” Geoffroi.
“She should come with me to Scotland where King Malcolm welcomes us.” Father.
“I have asked her to be my wife,” Geoffroi intoned.
“Should she wish to marry, my daughter has many suitors… noble ones.”
“I may be a younger son, but my family is of noble rank,” Geoffroi protested.
“Your family is Norman French,” her father spit out.
“We are noble Danes. Well half, in any event,” he said in a softer tone.
Emma knew he was thinking of her mother.
“Julianna was an English thegn’s daughter, but that matters little to my point.
Emma’s future lies outside of an England ruled by a Norman king. ”
Rising up on her elbow, she said, “Will the two of you stop arguing about my future? I have a mind that is no longer so fevered I cannot decide my own fate. Besides,” she fell back onto the pillows, “I have a family to care for.”
“You can bring them to Talisand,” said Geoffroi, casting her a glance from where he stood at the foot of her bed next to her father.
“They can come with you to Scotland,” her father declared, his voice deep and commanding.
Pushing herself higher onto the pillows, she said, “I will hear no more of this tonight. It is bad enough I am not with my family at Christmas. I would at least have peace in my house.”
At her chiding, both men looked sheepish. She loved them both. Yet they were sworn enemies. She was glad that tonight they warred only with their tongues and not their swords.
“I will look in on your little family before I depart for the Humber,” said her father. “None of you can remain in York.”
“On that, at least, we agree,” said Geoffroi.
“How were you able to leave the Humber, Father?”
“I was not with the Danes and their ships, but in the marshes nearby. It was not difficult to slip away.” He gave Geoffroi a look that said he thought little of the Normans who guarded the marshes.
“Were it not for Osbjorn’s poor planning, we would hold York still.
King Swein would not have made that error. ”
Geoffroi ignored him and came to the side of her bed.
“Emma, I must go with the king when he leaves for Cheshire in a day or two. Duty compels me. But he has promised to release me after that to go to Talisand north of Cheshire. Send word and I will come for you. Tell me now you want me to come and I will make plans.”
“She need send no word from Scotland,” her father insisted. “I will make plans for her and her family. You need not come, Norman.”
* * *
Before Geoff left York with the king, he and Emma spent one last night together.
The memory of it warmed him even in the relentless cold of winter as he, Alain and Mathieu rode southwest toward Cheshire.
She had given herself to him in a way that told him her love was sincere, but he was still uncertain if she would come to Talisand.
It was not as simple as just the two of them.
She served her family like he served his king. And then there was her father…
He thought back to the night he had sat watching her sleep, shocked when the rebel leader managed to sneak into her chamber.
“What do you do here, Norman?” the tall Dane demanded as he had stepped from the shadows.