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“I am sorry for it. Come, my lord, I have some wine for you and some delicious capon smothered in almonds. You will tell by the tenderness that it is not Gilbert the goat.” She gave him a side look, then turned quickly, went onto her tiptoes, and kissed his mouth. She was a bit crooked, but it was his mouth. He tasted warm, his lips soft. She hadn’t expected that, but then it was over and she wondered if she remembered aright.
She said, her breath warm against his chin, “Almonds, Severin. Do you not love almonds?”
He was staring at her mouth. “You have killed someone, haven’t you? You have hung our priest. You have burned down the armory. You have destroyed all our winter storage.”
She kissed him again. He was actually jesting with her, wasn’t he? She kissed him again. She hadn’t been wrong. His mouth was incredibly warm, as was his breath.
“Hastings,” he said, then heard his men laughing behind him. He looked up to see Dame Agnes standing on the steps, smiling down at them. “You wish me to take you here in front of all our people?”
She kissed him once more, a fleeting kiss, a girl’s kiss, as all her other kisses had been, at least those that had landed on his mouth, for indeed, she was naught more than a girl when it came to kisses, and smiled up at him. “Nay, I just wished to greet you as you deserve. Won’t you kiss me, Severin? The kisses I gave you were my first. I know nothing about how it is done. But I like the taste of you. And your mouth is so very warm and soft.”
He actually shuddered. He pulled her against him, grabbed the thick braid in his hand, and pulled her head back. He kissed her with all the hunger in him, and it was a lot. He felt surprise in her and shock. Not revulsion, just shock. He was going too fast, too hard. She had never been kissed before. He eased, just caressing her mouth now, and slowly he ran his tongue along her lower lip.
She made a strange noise. He lifted his head.
“That was your tongue,” she said. “Surely it is an odd thing to do. Not that it wasn’t nice, but still, Severin, are you certain that is done?”
“There are many things men and women do to each other that you would think odd right this moment, Hastings. But not tomorrow or the next day.”
There was now a good deal of jesting and laughter all around them. “I think we have provided my men an entertainment that will have them giving me advice throughout the rest of the day and night.” He cupped her face in his palm. “I do not understand this change in you, but I will accept it. It is pleasant.”
She laughed, pulled away from him, and shouted to all his men, “Come into the great hall. MacDear has prepared bounty for all of you.” She added low to Severin, “If you would come to our bedchamber, I will see to your bath.”
His eyes nearly crossed. He’d been so weary he had thought he would fall out of his saddle, but no more. He wanted to grab her up into his arms and run up the solar stairs with her, kissing her and fondling her al
l the way until he had her on her back in the center of that big bed, and then he would pull off all her clothes and come into her and . . .
“My lord, welcome home.”
He shook his head. His men laughed harder. His voice came out rough and mean. “Aye, Gwent, it is excellent to be back. All went well else you wouldn’t be smiling like a buffoon. And Beamis, you have helped train all these louts?”
There was more laughter, Beamis and Gwent poking each other, insulting each other, and he was pleased that the two men had become friends. He suddenly saw in his mind’s eye the young girl who had come to his bed at Fontivale keep some three days’ ride from Oxborough. She was younger than Hastings and had known more than some of the women he had taken to his bed in the Holy Land. He swallowed, remembering how she’d been there in his bed, waiting for him, smiling, her arms ready to clasp him to her. She’d told him how magnificent he was, how he made her feel, and he remembered so clearly that he thought that this girl didn’t think he was an animal. She’d made him feel strong and powerful. But then he’d seen Hastings clear in his mind in those moments when he’d come into Anne. He’d seen Hastings’s face pale and set as he moved over her. He’d known that she hated this joining with him, he’d known it and hated her for her hatred of him. He’d taken Anne three times before he had fallen into an exhausted sleep. And then he had dreamed of Hastings, dreamed of that moment when she had saved him from death by the assassin’s knife, how she had wiped him down when he had lain there roasting with the hellish fever. The coolness of her hands, the lightness of her touch.
He had felt immense guilt the next morning. At first he hadn’t recognized it for what it was, but when he had, he’d hated himself for it. Guilt was the spawn of weakness. Guilt? Because he’d taken his pleasure with another woman? It was absurd. But he had left the next morning, a day earlier than he had planned, not seeing Anne again.
What had happened to Hastings? Why had she changed toward him? Had she dreamed about him? Did she feel guilty that she had not treated him as she should have?
He heard Gwent say quietly, “I do not yet know if Torric the steward is a thief. I do not calculate and figure as well as you do. You will have to see to it, Severin.”
“Aye, I will see to it on the morrow. But today—”
“I know. Today and tonight it is your lady who will get all your attention.” Gwent stared after her. “I wonder,” he said slowly, “if your lady has experienced an epiphany.”
“You mean, has a vision visited her and told her how to be a proper wife?”
“Something like that,” Gwent said, still staring after that laughing girl he didn’t know. “Don’t muck up this miracle, Severin.”
“But—”
“Bend as she has bent.”
“Oh aye, but I’m too hard to bend, truth be told. She kissed me, Gwent. It was a girl’s kiss, for she doesn’t know yet what to do with her mouth, but I will teach her, and it wasn’t bad, all soft and warm, and—”
Gwent threw back his head and laughed deep and long. Other men joined in, not knowing why they laughed but seduced by the laugh from a man who could pound most of them into the ground in the practice field within a matter of minutes. Beamis laughed, picked up his little boy, whirled him over his head, then tossed him to one of his waiting men. The child shrieked and shrieked with laughter.
Severin punched Gwent hard and strode into the great hall.
Had Hastings really had an epiphany? Or had she let another man in her bed and felt guilty for it? Was that why she had run to him, hurled herself at him, and kissed him? No, not Hastings. Why had she changed toward him? Would it last, this change of hers, longer than a goblet of wine?
