Chapter Sixteen
Deo woke with Emily still curled into him and his cock hard as an iron bar.
The sun was up, just. The events of last night played out for him as he lay there, staring at the canopy of the bed, and he smiled with a small amount of smug satisfaction.
He had brought Em pleasure, so he wasn’t a complete failure as a lover after all.
And the prospect of being able to do it again—and more—was very enticing.
But how much more? Temptation was a slippery slope—no pun intended, he snorted to himself.
Em moved, pressing her face into his chest, and he looked down at the top of her head.
His chest felt full and tight, warm with an emotion he was not familiar with.
It made him want to gather her up and squeeze her, stroke her, kiss her, bring her more pleasure.
The sun was a candle to Em’s smile. It lit up his world.
He would do anything to make her happy, to protect her and make her his.
She is mine, isn’t she? The niggle of doubt over the marriage contract wouldn’t let him be.
He needed to make sure everything was right between them before he took the irrevocable step of consummation.
But further than that, he needed to secure her affection, for without that, the marriage would be a hollow shell.
A cold wash ran over his skin. She seemed well-disposed toward him, but what did it mean? He was woefully ignorant of emotions, his own and others’. How should he read her behavior? What did it mean? A kind of desperate panic seized him. How to ensure she cares for me and will continue to do so?
Kes interrupted his train of thought by jumping down off the bed and going to the door. With a sigh, he gently eased himself out from under Em and rapidly pulled on breeches, boots, shirt, and jacket to take Kes out.
By the time he got back, he was no nearer a solution to his problem beyond continuing down the path he had begun last night to bring her pleasure.
Perhaps if I give her enough of that she will come to care for me a bit?
For the hundredth time he wished he knew more about females.
He had never learned anything about the art of courtship, concluding that such a path was not for him.
When he had placed the advertisement, he had not anticipated the need for courtship.
The whole point of the ad was to avoid the necessity.
He would contract himself a wife, and they would somehow rub along all right.
He hadn’t thought through the ramifications of physical relations with his wife.
He hadn’t anticipated that he would desire her, desperately.
That he would want to please her. And if he thought about all the complications of emotions and marital relations too much now, he would start to panic.
He needed to focus on the problem of the tree at the base of the mound. That was a physical problem he could tackle. Much more comfortable than thinking about Em and how warm and soft and lovely she is . . .
Tree, Deo! Tree, Deo!
By the time he was washed and dressed again, Em was stirring.
“Deo?”
He turned to the bed, she blinked at him, prettily tousled, and he couldn’t resist walking toward her and perching on the side of the bed.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asked.
She stretched, which thrust her nightgown-covered breasts outward and caused him a rush of heat that stained his cheeks and filled his breeches. “Yes, I did.” She smiled shyly and took his hand. “Thank you for last night.”
He flushed deeper and smiled. “My pleasure.” He raised her hand and kissed it.
She sat up and put her arms round his neck. “I had no idea it would be so—wonderful!”
His smile became a grin, but before he could say anything, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
As always, the touch of her mouth swamped his senses, and he lost focus on anything but the connection between them.
Putting an arm round her waist, he drew her closer and kissed her thoroughly.
Kissing Em was definitely his favorite thing to do.
She tugged at him, and the temptation to press her flat to the pillows and—Tree, Deo!
He put out his hand to stop her tugging him down on top of her and broke the kiss.
“I’m sorry, Em. As much as I want to, we need to locate the entrance to the tomb today so we can clear the barrow before it rains.”
“Oh!” A flicker of disappointment in her eyes smote him in the chest. “Yes, of course.” She made an effort to smile. “I was forgetting. Yesterday was such a perfect day. But we do have lots to do, you’re right. I’d best get up.”
He got up and went to the door. “I’ll ring for Jenny for you. I’m going down to speak with Emrys about the most efficient way to locate the entrance.”
*
It was a long day. All the men, even Kenrick and Bidenden, were roped into helping with excavating the rest of the base of the mound in an effort to find the entrance, while the women, under Emily’s direction, sieved the dirt removed by the men.
Kes had been confined to the house along with the children.
By mid morning they had cleared the base on the north and south sides with no sign of the entrance, which left only the east side, guarded by the tree. Which was what Deo had said he hoped wouldn’t happen.
“What are we going to do?” Emily asked.
Pausing in his shoveling of dirt, Deo mopped his face and took the water flask Emily passed to him. “Thank you.” He wiped his mouth and pointed at the earth at his feet. “We should have found the entrance by now if it was on the west, north, or south sides. It must be on the east side as I feared.”
Emily looked up at the tree looming over them. It was a grand old oak, quite gnarled and twisted. “Do we have to remove it?” she asked.
“I don’t see a way round it if we’re to gain access to the entrance. The tree is practically on top of where it must be. She must be several hundred years old and has been guarding this tomb for a long time. Our comes has been well protected by it.”
Smiggens came over to them. He had obviously heard their conversation. “You can say a prayer for the tree, my lady, if you like, to thank it for its service and apologize for hurting it. It’s an old Celtic ritual. You’ll need a white ribbon and a libation of honey and water to pour at its base.”
Emily turned to Deo. “Could we? It seems awful to remove it with no mark of respect.”
Deo nodded. “It’s an ancient tree. It seems fitting to observe ancient ritual.”
Drawn into the conversation, the other ladies agreed. “I have a length of white ribbon,” said Lady Ashford.
“I shall go to the kitchens and fetch a libation of honey and water,” said the duchess. “And I know just the receptacle to put it in,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.
So everything stopped until the items were fetched.
Then Lady Ashford tied the white ribbon around a large, low branch of the tree with a murmured prayer for its forgiveness of what they proposed to do, and Emily and the duchess held the carved, stone urn covered in a Celtic knot design and poured the libation at the foot of the tree.
“Thank you, great oak, for your service in protecting the dead,” said Emily. “We honor you in turn for your silent vigil through the centuries, and we are sorry to disturb your rest.”
“Amen,” murmured everyone, gathered in a circle around the mound to witness the ritual. Emily wiped a tear from her cheek and exchanged a look with Deo, who squeezed her hand surreptitiously.
With the ritual complete, the men began discussing logistics with Smiggens about how to bring the tree down safely.
“We need to remove the lower branches first,” said Smiggens, “to be sure they don’t do any harm to the barrow in the felling. Once they are removed, we can move on to the tree itself and then the removal of the stump.”
Each man was assigned a task, whether it was chopping or sawing off branches or catching them to lay them carefully aside. They worked methodically over the great twisted tree, slowly revealing its structure as the branches with their foliage were removed with chop, crack, and the rustle of leaves.
Em knew she should be sieving, but she was mesmerized by the sight of the men systematically destroying this magnificent old tree.
All of them were working in shirtsleeves and breeches.
Even Lord Bidenden. Absentmindedly, Em noticed he had stopped to drink some water.
She had never seen him look so disheveled.
His dark hair curled slightly with the sweat from his brow and gave him a vaguely Byronic air.
He caught Emily’s gaze on him and smiled.
She looked away hastily, lest he misinterpret her looking at him as some kind of interest in his person.
Deo’s voice broke into her introspection. “You had best step back, Em. I don’t like you being so close to the tree. We’re being careful to catch any falling branches, but these are large, heavy limbs, and I don’t want you hit by any inadvertent slips.”
She grimaced. “I shall not be at ease until you have finished this exercise. It is fraught with danger. I do not want any part of the tree to fall on you, either.”
“I don’t want it to fall on anyone,” said Deo frankly. “Have you found anything of interest in the sifting?”
“A few unmarked pottery sherds and some coral beads, a couple more coins—these ones seem to be King George and one that is perhaps Elizabethan. Nothing Celtic, Roman, or post-Roman yet.”
He nodded and picked up his axe. Taking this as a signal to retreat, Emily went back to her sieving.
The women had set up at the base of the mound on the north side, several feet clear of the estimated reach of the tree’s canopy should anything break off and plummet to earth.
Deo’s comments had not reassured Emily at all, and as she worked, she was constantly looking over at them and checking the stability of the tree.