Chapter Thirteen #2
Tears popped from her eyes and streamed down her face but Stephen tried to ignore them as he picked up the surcoat that Mereld and Tilda had left out.
It was a dark blue Perse fabric, very fine and soft, and light for the more mild temperatures of summer.
Stephen stood Joselyn on her feet and forced her to put her arms up, pulling the thing over her head and then fastening the ties.
There were two at her waist and one big one that laced up the front of the bodice from her naval to her sternum.
He grumbled the entire time about playing serving maid, but the truth was that he was enjoying it.
The garment accentuated her glorious figure to a fault and Stephen was aroused as he tightened the ties.
He kept running his hands over her torso, smoothing the dress, feeling her warm body beneath his palms.
Joselyn had wept silently through most of it, finally quieting enough to put her hose on herself.
She tied them off with dark blue ribbons, so focused on her task that she didn’t see the lust in her husband’s eyes until it was too late.
Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and threw up her skirts, his mouth on her legs as he shoved her back onto the bed.
Joselyn gasped with surprise as he began to gently kiss her pelvic region, the insides of her thighs.
All she could see was the skirt of her surcoat over his head as he went to work.
“Stephen,” she gasped. “Please… not now….”
His head popped up and he pulled the skirts off his head, mussing his dark hair. He could see her pale face gazing back at him breathlessly and he pulled her skirts down contritely.
“Sorry,” he reached out and pulled her up to sit.
“The thought of not seeing you for some time… well, it eats at me as it eats as you. If I were any weaker, I would be joining you in your tears. But I know that our separation is only temporary and I comfort myself with that thought. You should as well. You should also comfort yourself with the idea that this will give you and Cade a chance to spend time together and to get to know one another. Forestburn is a lovely place and you will enjoy the hospitality of Tate and his wife a great deal. They are like family to me.”
She gazed at him, her expression so sad that he could feel his composure waver. “But when will you come for me?”
He touched her chin affectionately and stood up. “As soon as I can, I swear it. When the threat passes, I will come.”
“But that could take years.”
He shook his head. “It will not be years, Jo-Jo, more like a few weeks at the very most. Be a good girl and no more complaining, please? It will not change the way of things.”
She lowered her gaze and silently went to fetch her shoes.
She sat back down on the bed and pulled her slippers on, all the while remaining silent and submissive.
Stephen opened the door and bellowed for a soldier, who came on the run.
He shoved the last trunk at the man, who took it downstairs.
Finally, he turned to Joselyn as she ran the horsehair brush through her hair, watching her as she braided it into a thick braid that hung over one shoulder.
The more he watched her, the more his heart began to long for her.
He had grown so attached to her that it was difficult for him to think of Berwick, and him, without her.
But he had to stay strong, for her sake.
As Joselyn finished with her hair, she turned and looked at him. Their eyes met and he smiled sweetly at her. Joselyn returned his smile, but in her case, it was weak and resigned. More than that, she suddenly had an odd gleam to her eye that peaked Stephen’s curiosity.
“If I tell you a secret, will you promise that I can stay here with you?” she propositioned him.
Stephen shook his head. “I will make no such promise but you may tell me your secret.”
She shook her head and turned her nose up at him. “I will not tell you a thing. You will simply have to wait to find out.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Find out what?”
“I am not going to tell you.”
He suddenly swooped on her, wrapping her up in a big bear hug and growling as he nibbled her tender earlobe. Joselyn squealed.
“Stop it!” she commanded, although there was little force behind it. “I am not going to tell you unless you promise that I can stay here with you.”
“I am not going to promise.”
She made a face as he kissed her loudly on the side of the head and released her, going to retrieve the lightweight cloak that was hanging by the door.
It was a dark color so as not to show dirt, which made it excellent for travel.
He swung it around her shoulders, adjusting it in a fatherly gesture.
When their eyes met as he was fastening the ties, she stuck her tongue out at him.
He laughed heartily as he led her from the chamber and down the stairs.
He held her hand tightly, memorizing the feel of her flesh against his.
When they reached the bailey, de Lara’s contingent was ready to leave.
It was clear that they were waiting for her.
Stephen led her towards the first provision wagon that held all of her possessions.
Mereld and Cade were in the back of the wagon, but Tilda was missing.
Joselyn’s perusal around the bailey showed the plump woman hustling towards them from the direction of the kitchens with the fawn wrapped in her arms. She reached the wagon, out of breath.
“I did not think you would want to leave the fawn, my lady,” she said, gasping for air.
Joselyn smiled as she petted the animal, practically the only smile she had shown all morning. “Of course not,” she took the little beast, hugged it, and then extended it to Cade. “Would you like to tend him for me?”
Cade nodded eagerly and took the fawn from her, very pleased to take charge of the pet. As Stephen and Joselyn smiled at the lad, Tate walked up.
He was clad in full battle armor, well used and expensive stuff. His dark eyes moved between Stephen and Joselyn, and Stephen could see the veiled impatience in the depths.
“If there are no more delays, I should like to depart,” he told Stephen pointedly.
Stephen nodded, sweeping his wife into his big arms and planting her on the wagon bench next to the driver.
He helped her smooth her cloak and placed the oil cloth over her lap that the driver handed him, a cover designed to keep the dust and elements off her.
As Tate made his way back to the head of the column and the men began to move out, Stephen held Joselyn’s hand and gazed deeply into her pale blue eyes.
“Take care of yourself and enjoy your trip,” he said softly. “I will send word to Forestburn to let you know how the situation at Berwick fares.”
Joselyn nodded, struggling not to burst into tears again. She didn’t want to go but knew that begging would only leave a bitter taste in both their mouths when he refused. She didn’t want that lingering between them at her departure. So she kept silent on the matter.
“Please take great care, Stephen,” she murmured. “I will miss you with every breath I take.”
“And I, you.”
“I love you very much.”
He kissed her hand sweetly. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” he replied. “I will come for you as soon as I can.”
The wagon began to move and he was forced to drop her hand. Her pale blue eyes were riveted to him as the wagon pulled away. “You had better make it sooner rather than later,” she told him.
He was halfway following the wagon as it lurched forward. “Why is that?”
“Because I do not think you want your son to be born at Forestburn.”
After that, de Lara’s trip back to Forestburn was delayed another four hours while Stephen, Tate and Kenneth celebrated. Stephen was bloody drunk by noon.