The King's Mistress. Terri Brisbin
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Hell!
Orrick strode quickly around to her and held his breath as she lowered into a curtsy before him, as a dutiful wife would before her lord husband. He took her hand and helped her rise, still surprised by her behavior. He had expected some sulking and unpleasantness. Instead the perfect woman presented herself to him and his people.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist, watching her eyes to see her reaction. Marguerite startled, but not enough that anyone but he could see it. As she moved to stand at his side, he entwined his fingers with hers and held on to her hand. He turned to the others.
“I thank you for your efforts in making this meal and this occasion a special one. Now, I ask you to make welcome my…wife, the Lady Marguerite of Alencon.” His voice broke slightly as he referred to her as wife for the first time before his people. Some of his servants had been with his family since before his birth and he felt a nervousness not known before as he tried to impress them.
Marguerite’s gaze met his and he saw the puzzlement there. Then he realized he had spoken in English and she probably had not understood a word of it except her name.
“My lady, I thanked them for making your first meal in our hall a special one. They have worked hard to make your welcome a good one,” he said in Norman. Continuing once more in English for his people, he said, “My lady does not speak our language, at least not yet, and so I ask you for your assistance in making her welcome.”
His throat tightened as the clapping began in the back of the hall and spread forward, getting louder as it did so. Some called out her name and some called out “Huzzah.” He smiled as he looked at her.
Marguerite lowered her head in an acknowledgment of their welcome and then returned his smile. Leading her to their seats, he was surprised again when she stopped near his mother and curtsied to her, as well. This sign of respect was not missed and the crowd cheered again. Marguerite hesitated only a moment when she caught sight of Gavin, and then she continued toward the center chairs.
Finally, they were seated and, with his wave, the servants first approached with a bowl of water for washing their hands. Then they surrounded the table to place platters of fish and fowl and beef and mutton before them. Warm loaves of white flour bread and tubs of freshly churned butter were delivered to the table, as well. Cabbage and peas, stewed with mustard seed and pepper, and boiled turnips completed this course. Orrick nodded and everyone began to serve themselves, each two sharing a trencher between them. Because of the occasion, Orrick had ordered that the silver platters he owned be used as well as the silver spoons for those at his table.
The meal commenced and he spent his time offering Marguerite the choicest of the foods placed before them. She smiled and accepted them with a grace he had not seen before. Conversations swirled around them and he translated for her. Soon, the main dishes were removed and the cook delivered some treats that he had prepared especially for this meal. A warm tart of apples and pears filled the air with the smell of cloves and cinnamon as it was brought to table. It was his favorite and he told Marguerite of it.
This was proceeding far better than he thought it would and Orrick found himself relaxing as he finished his wine. His wife was a changeable woman. Mayhap she had accepted her fate? Could this work out between them?
With those thoughts, others broke through. He had been aware of her throughout the meal. He noticed the smell of the soap she’d washed with and the softness of her skin when she placed her hand in his. Her glorious hair, wrapped into two long braids, still made his hands itch to touch it. When she leaned closer to share a quiet comment with him, he was sorely tempted to turn his face and take her lips in a kiss.
But one glance at his mother’s worried expression and he remembered what he wanted to forget—she might be breeding and he must know before he bedded her. Otherwise, as his mother’s words had warned, he would raise the king’s bastard as his heir and never know. Another whiff of her enticing scent and the sound of her husky whisper near his ear and Orrick was not certain that his mother’s way was the right one.
She was his wife and any son she gave birth to was legally his heir. Since he had raised no objection to the marriage, he had no recourse but to accept any child she bore as his. And if she carried a child by Henry and he made it known, only he would suffer embarrassment for her role as Henry’s mistress was known.
Marguerite raised her eyes to him and he reached over and pushed a stray tendril of hair off of her face. She did not flinch at his touch and even leaned into his hand, turning a casual touch into almost a caress. Heat raced through him and he felt a certain part of his body harden in response to her acceptance. His blood pounded in his veins and he knew that he would have her this night and not wait for an answer to the question his mother had raised.
His bride was no cringing virgin. She knew the ways of physical love and seemed to welcome his attentions. Mayhap ’twas best to get this first joining over quickly so that their fears and nervousness would cease?
Aye. He would not wait. He would have her.
As if she’d read his thoughts, Marguerite leaned closer and spoke to him.
“May I have your permission to seek my chambers, my lord?”
The urge to kiss her grew until he thought he would die if he did not taste her mouth. She smiled and waited for his answer.
Orrick cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course, my lady. Mother, would you accompany Marguerite?”
Although his mother’s face hardened, she nodded and rose. Marguerite stood and curtsied to him. He noticed a blush creeping up from the fair skin of her chest where it was exposed by the cut of her gown, onto her neck and cheeks. He stood and kissed her hand once more and then watched her leave the table and make her way to the stairs that led to their chambers. His mother glanced at him before she followed his wife out.
He knew of his mother’s concern, but nothing could change the fact that Marguerite was his wife. He must take this important step in establishing their relationship.
“I guess the lady’s temperament has improved with some rest and good food, then?” Gavin’s words interrupted his thoughts.
“’Twould seem so.”
Gavin grabbed his arm and pulled him to his seat. “You must not appear too eager or you lose your advantage, Orrick.”
“What advantage?”
“You are lord here. Even when hot with lust, you must appear to be in control of your actions.”
“She is my wife and it is my right to have her,” he answered. Focusing his attention on his friend, he was puzzled by Gavin’s words. “Say whatever it is you hint at.”
“Do not be fooled by the display she presented to you and your people. There is more to her than a biddable wife.”
“And that would be…?” he asked.
“I do not know yet, but tread carefully with her.”
“Are you saying you think her a danger to me or to Silloth?” It was absurd, but he had learned to trust Gavin’s judgment. “Tell me what you suspect.”
Gavin took a deep breath in and let it out, looking around at those still at table and in the hall. Then he shook his head and spoke quietly. “Go. Wear yourself out in her bed. You are thinking with your cock now and my words will mean nothing until you have satisfied your need for her.”
He should not have been surprised by Gavin’s candid words, but he was. He began to argue, but Gavin stopped him.
“Your pardon, Orrick. Go. May you find joy in your marriage bed.” Before Orrick could speak, Gavin grabbed the jug of wine from the table, handed it to him and strode off.
His body reminded him of the woman waiting for him and he took one more look around the hall before leaving. The expressions of his people told him that they knew his condition. With nothing more to do or say, he carried