AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She trailed up and down the small terrace garden, her skirts brushing against the grass, knocking the petals off the flowers and the dew from the blades. Gervais had shown her his fine chambers, the elegant tapestries purchased in exotic lands, the glass in the windows of his solar, and to her delight, an oriel window, one that cast enough light into the hall to allow her to sew without candlelight.
“This isn’t a fortress,” she’d said to Gervais.
“Not all of it, no. The outer walls serve as the defence, but the keep is for living in. I plan no wars with my neighbours.”
A chivalrous knight, then, and not a warlord.
The supper served was simple and tasty, washed down by weak ale, which he insisted they both drank. His sobriety bolstered her fractious state of nerves.
The plates were swiftly cleared from the table, the dogs given the scraps left over. Gervais petted one, an old mastiff with a scarred nose.
“My favourite. He’s been with me all over Europe.”
“A fine beast.” She dipped her hands in the rosewater.
Smirking, he drained his tankard and wiped his chin with a napkin. “Now, Matilda, let us move to the crux of the evening’s affairs.”
“I’m prepared,” she lied. Her weak knees knocked atrociously.
He rose and held out his hand. “Come then.”
She walked by his side, her long gown gliding behind her. She clung to his arm, allowing him to support her as she battled the nausea pitting in her stomach. The tower he proposed to use was across the courtyard. In the gloomy evening light, the dark stone and weeping ivy climbers were forbidding. There was not a single window facing into the yard and the gnarled oak door was locked.
Gervais jangled the keys hanging from his belt and picked an iron one. The door hinges creaked upon opening, and a rush of cool air escaped into the dusk. She heard what seemed to be the desperate sigh of a forgotten sanctuary brought back to life.
“Have you not used this tower?” she asked.
“Only for specific purposes,” he said mysteriously.
He lit a torch and carried it before her. The stairs led up and down. Down to where? She expected a dungeon given the lack of windows or a cellar for storage. To her relief, he led her upstairs, past the first storey, and into the space beneath the timbers of the roof. Above their heads would be the turrets of the tower: a lookout post.
The round chamber he had unlocked with another old key filled the expanse of the tower. There were window slits facing out, providing archers with a good view of the forests below the walls and across the moat. A trickle of a draught seeped into the room, but otherwise it was not as damp as she expected. The fireplace was lit, the burnt embers still glowing; somebody had prepared the room for them.
The rest of the chamber was furnished with stools, a low bench, and a table the size of a bed. There were stands for tapers, and Gervais lit each one with his torch, before kneeling to rebuild the fire. She waited, her hands clasped before her, clutched into a knotted ball of fingers and sweaty palms.
He took his time, blowing on the fagots until they roared with flames. The heat filled the room swiftly. She welcomed it; she was shivering uncontrollably, and the reason was not entirely from the discomf
ort of the cold.
“There’s no hurry,” he said pleasantly. “Once you’re a sufficiently warm, you can undress.”
“Undress?”
“Yes. You’ll be punished naked.” He removed his cloak and laid it on a bench. He perched on a stool. “This bench will suffice. I shall have you lie across my lap, your outstretched arms at one end, your legs pointing to the other.”
The blood drained from her face into her toes. “Naked.”
“Why the long face? Were you expecting a covering on your poor behind? No, no, my sweetheart, you’ll take this upon your bare skin and for the duration you will not curse, nor attempt to dissuade me. This is your guilt we are ridding, not mine. I have no compunction for the part I play in it.” He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head. “Have you changed your mind?”
“What good will that do,” she said grumpily. “I will know you hold me in contempt until this is done.”
“Contempt? A somewhat harsh assessment of my opinion of you. I do think you are a spoilt maid. This business of the priest has merely given you licence to speak and say whatever you like, believing yourself to be a spirited lady, when to me, you’re still an untried maiden with no knowledge of the needs of a man, let alone a husband.”
She stared wide-eyed at him. “You, sir, have strong, arrogant opinions yourself. This business, as you put it, has haunted me. My father keeps his distance from me and is keen to have me packed off. Only the young men who care not for reputation have stalked my every move in the hope of winning my hand.”
“Is Geoffrey one of these predators?” He raised an eyebrow.
“No,” she said. “He’s the exception.”
