Page 16 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

A lais woke up right after dawn to a gentle kiss. Victor was up and dressed and smiling. His twilight blue eye had a hopeful twinkle.

“Good morning, my lovely, luscious wife.” He took her hand and kissed it, then sucked on her pinky, grazing it with his teeth and making her sigh and giggle. She felt a wave of desire at his touch.

“Victor, what are you up to?”

“I did everything wrong yesterday, so today I want to try again and hopefully this time get it right.” He pulled a bouquet of hellebores from behind his back. He plucked one flower out and tucked it behind her ear then handed her the rest.

“These are lovely! Thank you, my husband.” She sat up and buried her nose in the blossoms, then set them aside on the bedside table before folding her hands and resting them on her lap, at the same time making sure her hair didn’t cover her breasts at all. She smiled at him, sure that the picture she presented to him would stir his manhood in no time. “I’m intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

Victor swallowed hard and made an inarticulate noise, his gaze lingering on her exposed chest. It was delicious how easily she could stun him into speechlessness.

There was a quiet knock on the door.

“That would be breakfast,” he said, waking from his reverie to retrieve the tray from the servant at the door. “I thought we should get an early start.”

Alais got out of bed, stretched, and ran her fingers through her hair, angling herself to provide him with an unobscured view of her naked form. There was a satisfying clatter as the tray slipped from Victor’s hands onto the table. “Dear God, I am never going to get used to this.”

Alais sauntered over to Victor and threw her arms around his neck. “You blaspheme a lot.” She nibbled on his ear.

“That’s the least interesting of my many sins,” he mumbled into her hair as he finally gave in and took her back to bed.

Touching her exactly where she needed him, he pressed her back into the bed, making her come and come again as he pulled off his clothes and joined her beneath the blankets. When she was frantic for more, he sank into her and made sweet, gentle love to her, treating her with a delicacy that drove her mad. As she tipped over the edge a third time, his control began to slip, and she trembled in release as he thrust deep and hard, again and again, until he groaned and collapsed on top of her.

They nibbled on breakfast as they dressed and kissed and then kissed some more.

It was mid-morning when they emerged from their room and rushed down to the stables to avoid her family. Nonetheless, Carenza saw them in the halls and gave her a wink that made her cheeks burn.

Soon they rode through the west gate of Winchelsea and out into the surrounding farmland. Alais was on Snow. Victor was on Socorro. He broke into a gallop as soon as they were on the open road. “Beat you to the next farm,” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Never,” she yelled back, urging Snow faster and faster along the well-trodden Roman road as the wind whipped through her hair. Snow had no chance against Socorro, of course, but it didn’t matter. It felt like heaven to race through the cool autumn morning, galloping with abandon after Victor as he whooped like a barbarian. He and Socorro moved together like a single creature with one mind, a graceful blur of lean muscle and movement.

“I win,” he crowed, turning sharply, and circling back to ride alongside her.

“Not a fair contest! Let me ride Socorro, and we’ll see who wins,” she objected with a laugh, slowing Snow to a walk.

“Would you like to? I’m happy to trade. Anything to please my lady…”

“That depends. Where are we headed?”

“I thought we’d start with a visit to Hastings.”

“What?” She came to a halt.

“We won’t go anywhere near my aunt, I promise.” She started walking again, giving him a wary look. “I thought I might spoil you some, given that you didn’t have a chance for the usual pre-wedding shopping spree. I know the best merchants in the city. Their wares will put what you can find in Winchelsea to shame. My lady deserves only the finest.”

“Heavens!” Alais didn’t know what to say. She thought back to the occasions when he’d been forced to accompany her and her sisters out into Winchelsea on shopping expeditions. He’d always looked so miserable, but then, in retrospect, maybe that had nothing to do with the shopping.

“Then I’d like to take you to meet a talented friend of mine whom I think you might find entertaining. And this afternoon, if you’re willing, I’d like to take you to Guestling to meet my father. He’ll adore you. But beware, he will feed you within an inch of your life. His cook is an artist of rare skill, but you will feel like a stuffed capon by the time my father is satisfied that you’ve eaten enough.”

“I would love to meet your father, and I’m sure I’ll have quite an appetite after everything you described. What’s your father like?”

Victor narrowed his eye and then raised an eyebrow. “A fat goat.”

Alais burst out laughing.

“It’s true! You’ll see for yourself soon enough. He is a hairy man with voracious appetites and no shame. You think I blaspheme? Brace yourself. He’s far worse. But he’s a good man. He might have left me to the servants after my mother died, but instead, he gave me a happy childhood until I was old enough to foster.” He looked off in the distance.

“And what were you like as a child?”

He laughed. “Trouble.” Of course, he was. “You?”

“Also trouble.”

He smiled. She flushed as she returned his smile. She was tempted to sneak behind a tree with him and do wicked things. But no. Plenty of time for that later.

“So what’s the worst thing you got caught for?” he asked, a smolder in his look as if he knew what she was thinking.

“When I was seven, I got mad at Carenza for tattling on me about stealing a honey cake from the kitchen, so I cut off all her hair.” Victor sputtered and snorted loudly. “It took months for it to grow back. She had to wear a wimple the whole time. Mother made me wear one too for punishment. To this day, I still hate covering my hair, though I suppose I’ll have to, now that I’m a respectable married woman.” She made a disgusted face.

She could see the boy in him when he laughed. She could just imagine him as a tiny troublemaker with twilight eyes, an angelic face, and a sandy mop. He could probably have gotten away with anything.

“Your turn.” She grinned. “What’s the worst thing you didn’t get caught for?”

“Good question. I rarely got caught. I was sneaky.” The mischievous look he gave her made her bite her lip.

“I believe that.”

“All right. If I tell you, you have to swear you will never reveal my secret to another living soul.” He looked so serious, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I swear on Carenza’s hair.”

“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Fine. I swear on my deepest, darkest, and best-kept secret.”

“Which is?”

“You already know it.”

“No I… Oh.”

She watched him replay the events of last night in his memory. The laughter disappeared from his face. There was a fire in its place. And guilt. She shouldn’t have mentioned it. It was like a piece of broken glass between them, injuring them both with its jagged edge.

“So? What did you do?” She forced a smile and raised an eyebrow.

“I…” He stopped and exhaled, gritting his teeth. “Alais, you have to know your secret is safe with me. You’re my wife. What happens between us is no one’s business but our own.”

She halted her horse, and he did the same. She looked him in the eye. “I trust you. You stood by me when no one else would. I know I’m safe with you.”

She started forward again. He didn’t move. His gaze was burning a hole in her back. She turned to look over her shoulder and beckoned for him to join her. At last, he did.

“You trust me?”

“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”

“I can think of at least a dozen reasons. Why do you?”

She sensed that her answer mattered a great deal and took the time to compose her thoughts before responding. “Every single time I have been in danger of any kind in your presence, you have come to my rescue. You’ve protected me from harm. You’ve defended my honor. Even the first day we met, you saved me from my own rude curiosity by turning it into a joke and laughing it off. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve your loyalty and protection, but you have always offered it without question and without expectation of anything in return.”

She searched his face for some indication of his response. He stared back, his expression unreadable. “Even last night,” she continued, “I know you were trying to protect me. I know you thought you had my best interests at heart. How could I not trust a man who was willing to marry me when no one else would, and who obviously desired me, but had no expectation of consummation? It’s true we hardly know each other, but I know who you are to me.” He still stared, inscrutable. “Victor, say something.”

Finally, his serious expression softened. “I’m yours, utterly and completely, for as long as I live.”

“And I am yours.”

He took a deep breath. “Good God, I want to drag you off and do sinful things to you right now.” Alais wished he would. “But I promised you a day out, and a day out you shall have. We’re nearly there.”

Alais had been to Hastings before on several previous occasions but only to Lady Helisende’s castle. She’d never spent time in the city proper. As they rode through the city gates, surrounded by a steady stream of colorful riders and wagons, she couldn’t help thinking Victor was right. This was so much bigger than Winchelsea.

He guided them away from the central road up to the palace and into winding side streets that seemed to have no rhyme or reason. She soon lost all sense of direction. The streets were so narrow that she couldn’t imagine how a wagon could fit through.

They stopped in front of a stone building that looked exactly like all the others crammed together in these narrow streets. He was certain of his destination, though, and helped her down. They entered a tiny shop filled floor to ceiling with bolts of cloth in every imaginable color and texture.

“Sir Victor! What an unexpected pleasure,” squeaked a short, squat merchant dressed all in green velvet and who had only the slightest fringe of white hair. Alais didn’t think he looked pleased at all to see Victor, unexpectedly or otherwise. “Is your aunt looking for something special? I just made a large delivery to Lenore up at the castle. Is anything amiss?”

“You’d better hope it’s not. As you well know, my aunt doesn’t appreciate mistakes, but today I’m here on personal business. Allow me to present my wife, Lady Alais.”

The merchant bowed and licked his lips. “An honor to make your acquaintance, my lady. May I offer you a seat?” He gestured toward a tall, padded stool beside a large, wood table marked with measurements. “Let me show you a sampling of my wares.”

He began pulling down a bewildering array of fabrics in a rainbow of rich colors. There were silks, brocades, satins, velvets—every luxurious fabric she could imagine.

“You can do better than that,” said Victor, shaking his head. “Show me what you show Lenore.”

The merchant blanched, but there was also a gleam of greed in his eye as he put back all the dazzling fabrics he’d pulled out and shuffled into the back of his shop. He returned with a much smaller pile, but each one was fit for a queen. Victor rejected half of them for minor flaws in weave or dye that Alais couldn’t even see, leaving only the finest for her to choose from. She chose fabric for two winter dresses, two summer dresses, and a cape, and gave Victor a worried look, not sure if she’d over-indulged. He just smiled.

“Are there any of these fabrics you don’t like?” Victor asked her.

She pointed to three, leaving six.

“We’ll take these six as well,” Victor told the merchant. She watched Victor loom over the merchant’s shoulder as he measured and cut, making sure he didn’t skimp. They haggled over the price, but Victor still paid a sum that made her heart skip a beat. The merchant heaved a sigh of relief as they left with a large, wrapped bundle.

“I caught him cheating on his import taxes last year,” Victor explained after they left. “He’s dishonest to the bone, but he has the finest selection in Hastings. My aunt is his biggest customer. She used to send me along with Lenore to make sure he didn’t cheat her.”

“Who’s this Lenore? Should I be jealous?” Alais teased.

Victor laughed. “Lenore is a fifty-year-old grandmother who’s missing her two front teeth. She’s my aunt’s chief seamstress.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “It’s sweet, though, that you think there’s anyone you need to be jealous of.”

He put the cloth in a saddle bag and led her through the winding streets to a cobbler, then a furrier, then a milliner. Each one had run afoul of him at some point, avoiding taxes or cheating customers, and they all fell over themselves to provide Alais with their finest wares and keep him happy.

Last, he led her to a shop with an elaborate display of bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors. “Ah, here we are. Esteban’s perfume shop is the best you’ll find outside of the Mediterranean. And he has other useful skills too.”

A tall, thin man with dark skin and a long, white beard stepped out of the shop. He was wearing a spotless white robe and had a scarf wrapped loosely around his head. His eyes lit up when he saw Victor, and they embraced like old friends, exchanging a few incomprehensible words in what she assumed must be Spanish. She watched Victor gesture toward her, and Esteban’s eyes went wide.

“Congratulations, my friend! My lady,” Esteban said in English, turning to her with a bow, “felicitations on your marriage. I wish you joy.” He turned back to Victor. “Come inside. Come inside. Let me take a look at that scar.”

Alais’s eyebrows raised at that. Few people dared refer to Victor’s scar, let alone ask to look at it. And here she’d thought she was here to buy perfume.

Esteban sat Victor on a low leather stool and lit a bright lantern. Then he removed Victor’s eye patch. Alais’s jaw dropped. She’d never seen Victor without his eye patch. She stood back in the shadows and watched with fascination as Esteban examined the dark pit and discolored flesh where Victor’s left eye used to be, as well as the scar on his face, in minute detail. Esteban nodded and smiled as he sat back and let Victor put the patch back on.

“Some of my finest work,” Esteban said, clapping Victor on the shoulder.

Victor turned to Alais. “Esteban is the finest physician I’ve ever met. He stitched me up when I was wounded in Spain. You can thank him for my handsome face. Without him, it would have been far worse. I still say it’s a pity you went into trade, Esteban.”

Esteban shrugged. “The money’s better, and I like sleeping through the night.” He handed Victor two bottles.

“Onion extract and lavender oil?”

Esteban nodded. “Onion in the morning, lavender at night, as before.” Esteban turned to Alais while Victor put his patch back on, and he inhaled deeply. “Lemon and thyme with just a hint of citron. Am I right?”

Alais smiled and nodded.

“You favor fresh scents, yes? Bright and sweet?”

“I do, though I’m open to other options as well. Nothing too heavy or cloying, though.”

“Nothing with roses,” Victor added, which surprised her. She hadn’t realized he knew her disdain for heavy floral scents.

He brought her bottle after bottle with different mixes until she started to sneeze. In the end, she chose two scents. The first reminded her of a spring morning with light floral and citrus notes and a hint of rosemary. The second was a heavier, more sensual scent with sandalwood and subtle herbal notes. It made Victor smile, which was all she needed to make her decision. Victor paid for their purchases, said goodbye to his friend, and they headed out.

She would never forget this day, she thought as they made their way through more narrow streets. It wasn’t the gifts he’d purchased but the way that he’d revealed a little bit more about himself with each stop. Who would have expected Victor to be such an expert in silks and millinery or to be such a sharp negotiator? Then there was the visit to Esteban. She had no doubt that he had deliberately chosen to let her see him vulnerable, to see the injury he had always kept hidden in her presence. It spoke to the trust he placed in her, trust she wasn’t entirely sure she had earned.

Their next stop was an elegant inn called the Lute and Tambour, filled with intricately carved tables and chairs, and lit with silver sconces. Everything was polished to a shine, and the uniforms of the serving staff were all spotless and neatly pressed. Victor requested a private dining room and asked the innkeeper to bring wine and refreshments and to find someone named Richard.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Victor pressed her against it and kissed her with a passion and ferocity that made her wish they’d asked for an actual room instead of just a dining room. But before she was ready, Victor stepped away, leaving her panting. “Richard and the food will be here soon. I can’t let myself get too carried away. Have you been enjoying your day so far?”

“It is fun to watch you torment merchants. You’ve bought me more finery than I could wear in a year. But Victor, you do know you don’t have to buy my affection, don’t you?” It was all a bit much. She liked a pretty dress as much as the next woman, but he’d showered her in silks like he had something to prove.

He pulled her close again. “I would never mistake you for a woman who could be bought, Alais.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek.

“Am I interrupting?” asked a man with a wry smile who was wearing blue and yellow motley and carrying a lute. He had dark curly hair and an outrageous mustache. “Paul told me you had a woman with you. I was hoping you might have thought to bring one for me too, but it looks like I’m out of luck.”

Victor’s grip on her tightened as he answered through clenched teeth, “She’s my wife, Richard.”

The man gave Victor a disbelieving stare. “Wife? You ?”

“Alais, please forgive my friend for his ignorance and insults. He’s one of the finest performers at my aunt’s court, but sometimes he’s a complete lout.”

She cleared her throat and gave Richard a haughty glare.

Richard looked dubious, but he bowed in apology. “I did not mean to offend, my lady. I made a mistake. I hope you will not hold it against me.” He looked at Victor. “Perhaps you would care to explain why you invited me here. I like drinking with you, and you always bring me good songs. But I can’t imagine why you’d bring your wife along to spoil our fun.”

“I have a fabulously filthy song for you, courtesy of my new brother-in-law, but first I am hoping you will satisfy my wife’s curiosity about a certain song about a cat. She’s been after me for over a month, and I can’t do it justice.”

Alais gasped and clapped her hands together. The song about the cat at last! It was the best present of the day so far.

“You must be joking. For your wife ?”

Victor nodded with a mischievous smile.

Richard stared for another moment then shook his head and sighed. He checked the tuning of his lute, then began singing a long tale of two sisters who found a pilgrim in Auvergne who pretended to be mute. They thought him the ideal candidate to satisfy their lusts without any risk of being found out. To make sure he was mute, they went and got their cat.

“When we had drunk up all the wine,

They shed their clothes, and I shed mine.

They brought the cat up from behind,

Its claws dug in. It was unkind.

The ladies pulled it down my side,

It hurt so much, I nearly cried.

It scratched again. I almost screamed.

It hurt more than I ever dreamed.

They gave my flesh a hundred sores.

I crumpled down onto their floors.

But I would not cry out. Oh no!

Despite the way they hurt me so.

‘Oh, Sister dear,’ one of them said,

‘He’s mute, all right, and safe to bed.

So, Sister, let us bathe right now.’

The evil cat just said, ‘Meow.’

Eight days and more I stayed with them

And laid with them and played with them.

I fucked them both repeatedly:

One hundred eighty times, you see.

I nearly broke my saddle strap

And harness as they rode my lap.

They fucked me raw. It hurt so much!

But I could not ignore their touch.

They fucked me raw. It hurt so much!

But I could not ignore their touch.”

Alais sat with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth, unable to believe what she was hearing. Victor was doubled over with laughter. It was an admirable performance, right down to the ridiculous falsetto Richard used for the sisters. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but this was certainly far beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

“And that, my dear wife, is the song about the cat. Are you satisfied at long last?” Victor was still heaving with laughter.

“What diabolical mind would compose such a thing?” she demanded. Surely this went beyond the usual troubadour excess.

“The queen’s grandfather, Guillaume IX, Duke of Aquitaine, if you can believe it,” Richard announced in a bored voice. “But, Victor, you said you had something new and filthy for me?”

“Oh yes,” said Victor, borrowing Richard’s lute. “It goes like this…”