Chapter Twelve #2
The stable yard was full of men and animals at this time of day.
Horses were out being brushed and watered, and goats roamed in packs.
She expected to see Tristan somewhere in the mix, but when she didn’t, one of the grooms pointed inside the stable.
She followed the trail, heading into the dark, hay-smelling structure, on the lookout for a certain brawny knight.
Their encounter wasn’t long in coming.
“My lady,” a voice purred in her ear as a big body gently pushed her against the wall of the stable. “What could you possibly be doing here, I wonder? Were you looking for someone?”
Backed against the wall, Andromeda smiled up at the familiar face with the dark, twinkling eyes. He had a way of looking at her that made her heart burst right out of her chest. But she quickly turned her head away.
“I do not see him,” she said, pretending to be uninterested in his attentions. “He must be elsewhere.”
“Will I do?”
She broke into a smile and looked at him again. “I suppose,” she said softly, putting a hand to his bearded cheek. “You’re handsome enough.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“And you are rather sweet.”
“Again—thank you.”
“But I’m afraid I cannot give you my heart.”
“Why on earth not?”
She sighed loudly and pushed away from him, digging into her pocket and pulling out the poem he’d written her.
“Because I intend to give my heart to whomever has written this poem,” she said with feigned dramatics, holding the vellum up.
“I am sorry to tell you that I have been wooed away from you. Someone has been writing love poems and slipping them under my door, and after the last one came this morning, I realize that I must seek out whomever has done this. Any man who writes me poetry must surely be worthy of my love.”
Tristan stood there, lips twisted wryly and his big fists resting on his hips. “Is that so?”
“It is,” she declared, putting her hand to her forehead, the back of it against her skin in a gesture that suggested she was about to swoon. “I am mad for this man and will not rest until I find him.”
He was trying very hard not to smile. “I see,” he said. “I should not wish for you to be so distressed. May I help you find him, then?”
“Aye,” she said. “I was hoping you would. It is a generous offer, considering it will cost you my hand in marriage.”
“I will survive.”
“Then my loss must not be that great.”
He put his hand to his mouth, pretending to rub at his chin when he was really covering up his grin. “It is not,” he said. “But I must confess that I think I know who wrote those poems.”
“Truly?” she said, pretending to be very interested. “Who is it? Tell me this instant.”
He was still rubbing his face. “I think it’s one of the priests in the village,” he said. “You know they’re not allowed to have anything to do with women, so he’s trying to lure you into his lair. All he wants is to ravage you and leave your bones for the birds.”
Now it was Andromeda’s turn not to laugh. “Is this true?” she said. “Is he handsome, at least?”
“He thinks so.”
“Rich?”
“A priest? Hardly.”
“Then he must have something worthy of such talent?”
Tristan just stood there and shook his head at her. “Surely you are not so blind.”
Her brow furrowed. “Me?” she said. “Blind? Do not be a poor loser, Pat. Tell me who it is this very moment.”
He rolled his eyes and let the grin break through. “You silly wench,” he said. “I wrote the poetry. Who else would dare to leave you notes like that?”
“A priest trying to lure me into improprieties.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
“You told me so.”
“If I told you the moon was blue, would you believe that?”
“I would believe anything you told me.”
He snorted, but he also moved like lightning and was on her in a flash. Suddenly, she was in his arms as he carried her into the nearest stall, listening to her giggle as his mouth slanted over hers.
The giggling stopped.
The kiss was heated. He was such a big man that for Andromeda, it was like being enveloped in a powerful mound of flesh, safe and warm and delightful.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, matching him kiss for kiss.
When he pried her lips apart with his tongue, they feasted on one another, and Andromeda lost herself in the man.
He drove bolts of excitement through her body, sensations she’d never felt before but a sensation that made her feel hot and weak.
She couldn’t get enough of him.
Her reaction to him was purely instinctive.
Her body responding to his, her limbs winding their way around him, arms and legs holding him close.
Before she realized it, he had her pinned against the wall of the stable, her thighs parted and his big body wedged in between.
His mouth left hers, sucking her neck as his hands held her knees.
It was a lovemaking position, though she didn’t realize it, but his pelvis was against hers, and she could feel something hard pressing against her woman’s center through the fabric.
As he devoured the flesh of her shoulder, she put her hand down where he was pressing against her, only to feel his rock-hard erection straining against his breeches.
The moment she touched him, he jumped, and she nearly fell to the ground.
“God,” he breathed, holding her up so she wouldn’t tumble. “I’m sorry, love, but don’t… don’t do that right now.”
Andromeda was breathing heavily. “Don’t do what?”
He sighed sharply. “Put your hand… down there. Against me like that.”
Andromeda knew what he meant. Sort of. She looked at him seriously. “Are you in pain?”
He snorted loudly, struggling not to laugh because he could tell she really didn’t know what he was talking about. “Aye,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “I am, so don’t touch me like that. Not now, anyway. But there will be a time when I will welcome it.”
Andromeda scratched her head, trying to put the pieces of his puzzle together. She ended up looking right at his swollen manhood, contemplating their kiss, his stiff crotch, but she still wasn’t entirely clear on the situation.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I will admit that I am rather na?ve when it comes to the ways of men and women. Or, at least, I was fairly na?ve until I started working at the tavern in Ruabon. I saw quite a bit there that leads me to believe your manhood is swollen because you were kissing me. I saw that at the tavern.”
Tristan wasn’t entirely comfortable talking about the subject.
In fact, she was being far more logical than he had the capability of being when it came to the joining of men and women.
It was a deeply private thing to him and always had been.
The truth was that Tristan de Royans, a seasoned and experienced knight, was the slightest bit… prudish.
“I can only imagine,” he said. “But it is unseemly to speak on such things, so let us end the subject.”
Andromeda refused to comply. “How can I learn anything if you will not talk about it?”
He lifted his eyebrows. “That is a simple answer,” he said. “If I were your husband or your intended, it would be proper. But we are not betrothed. I cannot speak to you of such things because it simply isn’t proper.”
She frowned. “Yet you grab me and kiss me and suck the breath out of me,” she pointed out. “How is speaking on the ways of men and women any different from kissing?”
She had a point. Tristan eyed her a moment before sighing sharply.
“Aye, my manhood is swollen because I was kissing you,” he whispered loudly.
“That is because my body is reacting to yours. It wants to join with you as a husband joins with a wife. It wants to love you, but I do not have permission to do so as of yet, so that is why you cannot touch me… there.”
She knew what he meant—she hadn’t yet consented to his offer of marriage, which made her smile. She went to him, pressing her body up against his as she gazed up at him.
“I think weeks of sweet kisses and flirtation have been enough of a consent,” she murmured.
“But since you do not think so, I will make it plain. Aye, I will marry you. I would wither away and die if I could not marry you. You are the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins, Tristan de Royans. You have my permission to love me.”
A smile spread, very slowly, across his bearded lips. “Thank you,” he said simply. “You have made me a very happy man.”
“Have I really?”
His answer was to wrap her up in his arms and kiss her deeply again, this time with all of the lust and passion and emotion he was feeling.
Andromeda gave herself over to him, willingly, feeling his hard crotch against her belly because he was much taller than she was.
She reached out to touch it again, and he whispered, “Stop,” with his lips still on hers.
She giggled, he giggled, and all was right in the world.
All was right with them.
“Although it is only a formality, I suppose that I must ask your father for his permission,” he murmured in between heated kisses. “I will ask him today.”
Andromeda had her arms around his neck, holding him close to her. “I do not know why,” she whispered as he kissed her chin, her neck. “He cares nothing for me. Why should a man who has never had any involvement in my life suddenly need to be consulted?”
He slowed his kisses to look at her. “At the very least, I must tell him.”
“I would agree with telling him,” she said. “But do not ask him. He has not earned that privilege.”
He nodded, kissing her one last time before releasing her.
“Then I shall find him immediately and tell him,” he said.
“Another person I should tell is William Marshal. Since he and John were the ones planning to marry you to someone else, I think it is only right he know that I intend to marry you. I cannot imagine he will contest it. If he wanted an English noble for you, then he shall have it in me.”