’Tis a fire in the blood that draws me
to thee, my maid of Brittany.
A softness in your eyes that makes me
dream of nights in your gentle arms.
His voice, gentle as spring rain, filled the silent hall. At his words, Kassia smiled shyly at her husband.
Your woman’s beauty meets my hungry eyes
calling me, my maid of Brittany.
’Tis a fire in the blood that makes me
yearn to hold thee close.
Graelam pressed his shoulder against hers and gently squeezed her hand. “A fire, my lady?” he teased her softly. “Soon we will know if he speaks true.”
The sweetness in your smile draws me
to thee, my maid of Brittany.
’Tis a fire I long to give thee
the fire of my song and my heart.
Louis kept his head down as he softly played a crescendo of minor chords. At the finish, he raised his eyes and bowed his head to Kassia.
“ ’Twas well done, Louis,” Graelam called out over the enthusiastic clamor of the men. “I am pleased as is my lovely bride.”
“It is my pleasure, my lord,” Louis said. He began again, this time a song of the great Roland and his death fighting the Saracens at Roncesvalles.
Graelem said quietly to Kassia, “Go to our chamber, Kassia. I will come to you soon.”
Kassia rose and nodded to Blanche, who was sitting quietly beside Blount, the steward.
“God give you sweet sleep, my lady,” Guy said, smiling at her. He watched her wave a slender hand at him, then turn and walk from the hall. His eyes went back to Graelam. He had never before seen his master treat a woman so gently. It boded well, he thought.
Graelam lifted his goblet to his lips and sipped slowly at the sweet wine, his eyes thoughtful. A woman should want a man. He would make Kassia respond to him, make her moan softly, and make her forget her maiden’s fear. The fire in his body would warm her. He downed the rest of his wine and rose from his chair when Louis finished his song. He saw a speculative look on Blount’s craggy face, an open smile on Guy’s, and knew that all his men were in no doubt about how he would spend his night.
“Please continue, Louis,” he said to the minstrel. “As to the rest of you louts,” he called out to his men, “listen well and learn.” He strode from the hall, feeling something of a fool, for everyone knew he was going to his wife. He took the stone steps two at a time. He opened his chamber door and saw Kassia seated on the bed, wrapped in her blue wool bedrobe.
“Come here, Kassia,” he said.
She slipped off the bed, clutched her robe closely to her, and padded to him on bare feet. He held out his arms and she moved against him, wrapping her arms about his waist. He closed his arms about her back, and began to gently stroke away the tension he felt in her shoulders.
“You smell so sweet,” he said, inhaling the lavender scent of her. He stroked his long fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp and tangling the soft curls about her ears. He drew her more tightly against him, lifting her against his hardening manhood.
Kassia raised her head from his shoulder and gazed into his dark eyes for a long moment. Slowly, without instruction from him, she closed her eyes and pressed her mouth against his. She felt his exquisite hardness against her belly and felt again that strange tremor of warmth flow through her.
Graelam swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her on her back and sat beside her. Slowly, he untied the sash about her waist. She gave a soft distressed gasp, and he stopped.
“Did I tell you about my destrier, Demon?” he asked.
She stared up at him, blinking in surprise. “Nay, my lord.”
“He was bred near York,” Graelam said softly. “His sire was called Satan and his dam, Witch.” He lowered his head and gently kissed her closed lips. He caressed her lower lip with his tongue, all the while talking quietly about his stallion. “He saved my life in the Holy Land when a Saracen would have carved me. He reared up and stomped the fellow.” He realized belatedly that though he spoke softly, his words were anything but seductive and soothing. Why the devil was he talking to her about his damned horse? He shook his head at his own foolishness. “I want to see you, Kassia,” he said, and drew her robe apart.