“I have told you the truth!” she wailed.
He had filled her, made himself a part of her, and she hated it and him and herself. She lay like cold marble beneath him, suffering him in silence, unmoving. She was separate, apart from the helpless woman who lay beneath the man.
Graelam cursed her, his words catching in his throat as his seed exploded deep within her. He rolled away from her immediately and lay panting on his back.
“Your love is short-lived, I see,” he said, not turning toward her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I suppose it must be. How can love survive cruelty and distrust?”
He cursed again softly.
Kassia rose shakily from the bed, walked to the basin, and quickly bathed herself. She knew he was watching her, but she said nothing, did not acknowledge him. She hugged the side of the bed, pulling the covers to her chin, but she could not get warm. She realized vaguely that the coldness was coming from deep within her. She would probably be cold for the rest of her life.
26
“Edward’s coronation is in a week and a half.”
“When will you leave, my lord?” Kassia asked, finishing the fresh peas from her trencher.
“I, my lady? Do you not recall that the both of us are invited? Do you find my company so distasteful that you would even forgo such an exciting event?”
She raised pitifully hopeful eyes to his face. He watched her pink tongue flicker over her lower lip, and cursed himself silently for wanting her, wanting her simply because she sat beside him, and in a hall full of people!
“I am to come with you, my lord?”
“I do not dare risk leaving you here,” he drawled, effectively dampening the sharp edge of his desire for her. He saw a flash of anger in her eyes, and added lazily, his eyes roving over her body, “And do eat more, wife, else I will have naught but sympathy from Edward when he sees I am wed to such a skinny child.”
He watched with great interest when her hand closed about the stem of her goblet. “Go ahead,” he taunted her softly. “Toss your wine in my face. I at least would enjoy my retaliation.”
Her hand fell away from the goblet as if it had burned her.
He laughed harshly. “It matters not, Kassia. Coupling with you gives me little enough pleasure. If you continue as you are, you will soon enough look like a boy. Then perhaps I will think of myself as a pederast.”
She gritted her teeth until her jaw ached.
“What?” he mocked. “You will not even raise that little chin of yours?”
Kassia picked up a ribbed piece of pork. She raised it to her mouth and slowly began to nibble off the meat. She heard him suck in his breath, and let her tongue lick the gravy from the bone. She eased it deeper into her mouth, sucking at the tender meat.
Once, so long ago, it seemed, he had taught her to give him pleasure. He had laughed at her, teased her at her clumsy efforts until he had moaned, and laughed again at her obvious delight. She saw his eyes fastened on her mouth, and felt the momentary power of revenge. She withdrew the bone and tossed it carelessly to her trencher. She raised her chin.
“Bitch,” he said softly.
He rose abruptly from the table and strode from the hall.
It had begun to rain, and she nearly called to him. You are such a stupid fool, she chided herself, worrying that he will take a chill!
Graelam strode at a furious pace up the winding wooden stairs to the ramparts. He leaned forward against the harsh cold stone and looked toward the sea, but the sliver of moon showed him no more than an occasional white-topped wave. The rain was warm on his face. At least, he mocked himself silently, it cools my passions.
He realized that he was tired, tired to the depths of his being of baiting Kassia, tired of watching her show alternately her fear and her hatred of him. None of it was his fault, damn her! But he knew that it was. She would never have left him if he had not driven her to it. The events of the past months careened through his mind. The weeks of warmth and caring they had shared when he had decided to forget what she had done, forget her lies, excusing her by blaming himself. Dienwald de Fortenberry. The knight’s name rang like a death knell in his mind. I did not leave with him because I love you. His eyes darkened, anger at himself flowing through him for believing her even for a moment.
Graelam pounded his fist hard against the stone. He hated himself for his feelings of deep uncertainty. He had never experienced the emotions she had evoked in him. If Edward called for another crusade, he would have agreed immediately. On the heels of that thought he saw her face, her dimples deepening as she smiled at him, saw her eyes widen with bewildered astonishment when he had first brought her pleasure.
“Saint Peter’s bones, but I am weary of all this!” he muttered. He strode back into the keep, shaking off the rain like a huge mongrel dog.
It would take them six days to travel to London, but Kassia didn’t mind. She was filled with excitement, and even her husband’s distance did not overly upset her. He had simply ignored her, leaving all preparations to her. The string of details and decisions to be made allowed her to bury her feelings for him, and her hurt, until she lay in bed at night, listening to his even breathing. The day before they were to leave, Graelam had walked into their bedchamber unexpectedly. He paused a moment, watching Kassia twirl around in her new blue satin gown. She looked utterly beautiful, despite her fragile slenderness. Her hair lay in thick soft curls about her small head, now falling to her shoulders. Her laughter died in her throat when she saw him.
“My lord?”