Unicorn Bride: A Medieval Romance Page 7

  Alienor trailed in her wake, her eyes widening in surprise when the older woman dropped a length of heavy red samite into her hands. The cloth gleamed with the luster of silk, and Alienor ran one hand across its rich softness in admiration.

  “I have saved this cloth but do not trust myself to the task,” Iolande confessed.

  Alienor looked up, relief settling in her heart when she met the hope in those blue eyes. She was being granted an honor and she knew it well.

  “I shall do my best, my lady,” she vowed.

  Iolande smiled. “Aye, I know it.” she said, though there was little opportunity for Alienor to savor that compliment. “His insignia is a crowned unicorn on a red field such as this samite. I will call for his old standard that you might learn the design.”

  “I thank you, madame.” Alienor curtsied and held the beautiful fabric to her chest. Indeed, she would make a place for herself in her husband’s home, even if Dagobert did refuse to speak with her at night.

  To embroider his standard was the task of a wife and she would do it well.

  The sun had passed its zenith when Iolande called for a harpist to entertain the women, and Alienor sensed without turning that Alaric had entered the solar. She glanced up in time to note Iolande’s lips thin in disapproval, undoubtedly because such a man had no place in this chamber. Another of the women smiled secretly to herself, which Alienor could not explain so readily.

  Then she turned and met the warmth in the goatherd’s gaze and all else was forgotten.

  Had anyone else noted that she spent time with him? Alienor thought of the woman’s smile and feared there was gossip in the hall about her. Was that why Dagobert declined to speak to her?

  Her cheeks burning, Alienor bent quickly back over her work to hide her reaction. If only her husband had troubled to speak to her as this man did.

  ’Twas then she realized that he had answered the summons for a harpist. He carried an instrument and braced it on his knee, clearly familiar with it. Alienor alone seemed surprised that a goatherd should possess such a skill.

  The other women’s voices rose as they requested different songs and vied for Alaric’s attention, but Alienor concentrated on the evenness of her stitches. Despite her efforts, she was unable to keep her ears from burning when Alaric finally strummed his harp and began to sing a romantic ballad in his deep voice.

  If her husband had possessed the ability to sing thus, she would have been unable to deny him naught.

  She supposed she should be grateful for such mercies.

  “Sidon has been attacked—Anjou will not come.” Eustache said by way of greeting when Dagobert met him to climb to the solar and his lady wife.

  Dagobert cursed under his breath at the unwelcome tidings. His gaze flew immediately to the knight following his friend: the messenger was a man he knew and whose word he trusted. With a last longing glance up the darkened stairs leading to his solar, he turned his attention to the two men.

  “Sidon was lost?” he demanded, and the tired knight shook his head, giving Dagobert’s worst fears a momentary reprieve.

  “Nay, but they have taken heavy casualties and are loath to march out so soon.”

  Dagobert frowned slightly at the import of this news. “How long ago?”

  “Two weeks past,” the knight replied, shuffling his feet for a moment as though unwilling to continue, his gesture drawing the attention of both Dagobert and Eustache.

  “Out with it,” Eustache demanded sharply.

  The knight flicked an apologetic glance to Dagobert. “’Twas but a rumor,” he confessed uneasily.

  “I would hear the tale,” Dagobert insisted.

  “’Twas said the attackers headed for Montsalvat.”

  Eustache and Dagobert exchanged a glance of surprise at this unanticipated development.

  “To parlay?” Eustache asked, but the knight shook his head.

  “To lay siege,” he confirmed, and Dagobert’s heart sank.

  “’Twould be madness,” Eustache muttered under his breath, but Dagobert heard the concern in his friend’s voice.

  Truly, things were turning for the worst and he sighed with dissatisfaction. There would be no leisure for him this night. He had to learn every detail that the messenger remembered, and with all haste.

  “I would speak with you in private,” he said to the knight, gesturing along the passageway when the man nodded. Despite the proven loyalty of Dagobert’s household, the hall was no place to discuss such delicate matters.

  Alienor had not been able to bear the prospect of Iolande’s evening draught of wine, for her stomach was uneasy. Alienor had refused the chalice politely but firmly. The flicker of panic that lighted her mother-in-law’s eyes struck her as odd, for ’twas not that great a breach of the lady’s hospitality. The expression was banished as quickly as it appeared, leaving Alienor wondering whether she had imagined it as she lay abed.

  It was the first time she had been unable to sleep in her marital bed.

  How curious. She tended to sleep well, but certainly her circumstances had changed and could be said to be unsettling. She had expected a restless night sooner.

  Was she making much of little to ponder that quick change in Iolande’s expression?

  What if there was something in the wine to encourage her sleep?

  What if she might see more than she should by not accepting the wine?

  It was an intriguing notion and one that gained in credence as she waited and her thoughts churned. The unicorn chewed steadily, consistent if naught else. Would Alienor witness the “transformation” this night? As much as she intended to hold to her vows to respect her husband’s privacy, ’twas only natural that she was curious. Or so Alienor told herself as she studied the beast and waited.

  The sky outside her window grew ever darker, the fire flickered low in the grate as the sounds of merrymaking in the hall below faded into oblivion, and still Alienor stared wide-eyed at the canopy over her bed. Without a doubt the hour was late, the air outside thick with the expectant silence of the night. The moon rose and climbed into the indigo sky, casting its silver rays into the room, and still Alienor did not sleep.

  Still Dagobert did not change. She rolled over and stared at the unicorn, who returned her regard unblinkingly. Alienor propped her chin on her hand and, recalling their disagreement of the night before, wondered if her spouse had the power not to change, just to spite her.

  A tap at the door disturbed Alienor’s slumber, her heart leaping in her throat at the sound before she opened her eyes and noted the full brightness of the morning.

  “I would light the fire in the brazier, my lady, for the morning is chill,” came Giselle’s voice through the thick wood door.

  The unicorn lifted its head at the sound of the other woman’s voice. Had he refused to change, or had she missed it all? Alienor hated that she could not be certain. She rose and unlocked the door, admitting her maid.

  Giselle bustled about with characteristic efficiency and soon, the fire was made, the bed linens pulled up and hot water poured for Alienor’s bathing. When the younger girl made to take the unicorn’s lead and escort it to the stables as she did each morning, Alienor stayed her with one hand. Enough was enough. Had she not kept her side of their bargain? She expected Dagobert to keep his share of their agreement, and if he would not grant her the opportunity to tell him, then she would tell this beast.

  “I would have a word with my husband afore he goes,” she said, and Giselle looked startled.

  “But, my lady—” she protested.

  Alienor silenced her with a look.

  “I will speak with him,” she repeated.

  The maid’s glance darted from one side to the other as if she sought some escape. “Aye, my lady,” she agreed, her uncertainty clear. She surrendered the lead with obvious reluctance.

  “Alone,” Alienor insisted.

  Giselle hesitated only a moment before she bobbed a curtsy and ducked out of the roo
m.

  “I be waiting in the hall,” she said with a bright smile, then turned and fled the chamber.

  Alienor did not note the maid’s haste, for she never lifted her gaze from the unicorn’s disconcerting yellow eyes. She crouched down before him. “Now, my lord, listen to my words and listen well...”

  “Oh, my lord!”

  Dagobert looked up at the sound of Alienor’s young maid. Someone knocked rapidly on the door to the chamber where he had held council throughout the night and Eustache shrugged. When that man turned to open the door at Dagobert’s gesture, Giselle burst into the room. She pushed past an astonished Eustache, her brown eyes wide. The older knight stood and straightened his tabard.

  “Sir! My lady would speak with the unicorn,” she whispered.

  The men’s gazes met over the girl’s head and Eustache’s expression turned grim.

  Dagobert shook his head to silence whatever his friend might have said and turned his attention to the girl. “Explain yourself, if you please.”

  Giselle took a gulping breath, nodding even before she spoke. “She said she would have a moment alone with him to talk to him.”

  To talk to him? Alienor was talking to the goat?

  Dagobert had never imagined that she truly believed the tall tale she had been told, and her inquisitiveness of the past few nights had convinced him that she sought his daytime identity. Apparently, he had been mistaken and he was disappointed for a moment that her wits were not as keen as he had believed.

  But what on earth was she telling the goat?

  Dagobert’s eyes widened at the realization that he would be expected to know what she had confided in the creature. Eustache’s chuckle revealed that his friend had come to the same conclusion. His lady was no fool!

  Dagobert swore under his breath and darted out of the room, taking the stairs three at a time. Giselle ran in his wake, and Eustache laughed heartily far below.

  When the maid was gone, Alienor reached out to grip the tufted beard beneath the beast’s chin so that it would not turn away from her. Her fingers tangled in the kinky white hair and she was momentarily surprised by its silky texture before her resolve hardened anew. This was certain to be ineffective, but she had to talk to someone. And who knew the truth? Perhaps some element of Dagobert’s tale was true, unlikely as that seemed.

  “So, you would punish me for my curiosity, my lord, for demanding more of you than your touch in the night,” she murmured. The creature stared fixedly at her, its chewing stilled for the moment. Surprisingly, she did not feel silly addressing the unicorn for she had the sense that it was actually listening to her words with rapt attention.

  “I would have your touch rather than naught of you at all, sir,” she admitted, finding herself rubbing the hard nub of its chin beneath the beard. “Should you return this night, I vow I will ask no more than you would willingly give.”

  Alienor fairly held her breath while the creature looked over her features as if it would discern whether she spoke the truth. The tension eased in her shoulders when it began to chew once more and tugged impatiently against her hand to free its beard. She could only interpret the gesture as one of acquiescence. She smiled as the silky beard slipped through her fingers, certain that her ardent lover would be back in her bed this night.

  Perhaps she had dismissed the old tale too readily.

  Perhaps there were mysteries at Montsalvat beyond all expectation.

  Too late, too late. Dagobert’s heart sank when he crossed the threshold and saw Alienor’s satisfied smile. She was stepping away from the unicorn, their conversation clearly at an end. If only the creature could talk and tell him what it had heard! His chest tightened as he recalled his mother interrupting his councils with the news that Alienor had refused her draught of wine. He studied her, wondering what she had seen, or not seen, during the night past, and what she had made of that.

  She evidently sensed his presence, darting a glance over her shoulder toward him. He saw the dark shadows beneath her tawny eyes, the tired droop to her full lips. Her sleepless night was echoed by his own exhausted body and he stifled the urge to gather her up and carry her back to bed.

  Their eyes met and she flushed scarlet, her shielding hands drawing his attention to the sheer gauze of her chemise and how little of her femininity it concealed. He caught a glimpse of one rosy nipple hardening to perfection and felt his own body respond in kind. He wondered how he had managed to spend even one night without her caress.

  “Do you not knock?” she demanded, and he almost smiled at the breathlessness in her voice. Truly they were each as aware of the other and he was amazed that she had not guessed the truth. He inclined his head now, playing the role of meek goatherd as well as he was able, gesturing with one hand to his four-legged ward.

  “My pardon, my lady, my concern was that Dagobert see the stables in time to avoid you embarrassment. As the door was open, I thought you gone,” he explained. “I will be only a moment.” His heart pounded as he realized that his path to the unicorn would take him within an arm’s length of his lady.

  “I would ask that you be hasty about it,” Alienor said. She turned her back to him, tugging a cloak over her shoulders and holding her hands out to the fire in the brazier. Dagobert stepped quickly across the stone floor, though the alluring scent of sandalwood that teased his nostrils when he drew near Alienor made him grit his teeth.

  He spared one glance to her and immediately regretted it. The thick ebony mane that tumbled down her back called to his fingers to tangle in its wavy length. The pale curves of her figure beneath the cloak invited his caress. Even the delicate bones of her ankles fed his desire this morn and he had difficulty grasping the unicorn’s leash as he made his way from the room.

  Tonight, he vowed to himself, tonight his wife would learn the meaning of passion.

  It seemed all went awry for Alienor that day. Alaric barging into her chambers and seeing her nearly nude, never mind her clear awareness of his presence, set the tone for the day. Her needle seemed cursed as she worked in Iolande’s solar and she was certain she ripped out three stitches for every one she made.

  The unicorn’s failure to change troubled her more than she might have hoped, and as the day progressed, she found herself growing more skeptical of the tale. That, in turn, led down a dangerous path, one that left her wondering where her husband secreted himself during the day and why he did so. Both of these thoughts were disturbingly inconsistent with her vow to honor his privacy, but Alienor did not know how to still her mischief-making thoughts.

  Alaric did not come to sing to the women this day, which was a disappointment to Alienor, for despite the embarrassment of this morning, she had looked forward to seeing him again. To make the day complete, one of the knights had killed a boar at the hunt and all were compelled to partake of the meat and salute his skill at the board that eve.

  Alienor excused herself early from the celebration, unaware of how many watched her departure with avid interest. She dismissed Giselle quickly and crawled into the great bed, cold and lonely. All day long, she had fretted about Dagobert’s agreement to her vow, hoping against hope that she had not misread her husband’s intent, and now her fears returned to haunt her.

  If he was not truly the unicorn by day, how would he know her desire?

  What if he did not ever come to her again?

  Alienor’s heart leapt when the bed curtains were pulled open and she sat up startled. A tall, broad-shouldered man stood at the foot of the bed, silhouetted against the dying embers of the fire. He surveyed in silence, his long hair streaming over his shoulders. Alienor almost panicked, but then a gold circle hanging against his chest caught the light.

  “Dagobert!” Alienor threw herself on her husband with delight. “You came!” She had the chance to say no more before his arms closed around her and his lips claimed hers, his hunger as fevered as her own. The intensity of his kiss made her head spin and she gripped his shoulders, closing her eyes
against her instinctive response to his touch. His tongue was in her mouth, the sure grip of his hand on her nape holding her captive beneath him, his other arm binding her against his chest as he carried her to the center of the bed without breaking his kiss. His demanding embrace was all she had ever wanted and more.

  It was too much, this passion of his, it was everything, and she feared she would melt in the heat of it. Even then, she did not care. Her skin was on fire, her blood turned to molten metal, her heartbeat echoed in her ears and she wanted only more. She struggled to return his caresses, to touch him as boldly as he touched her, but she was lost to sensation, stretched to endurance to merely respond to his demands.

  Before Alienor could think, she was pinned to the bed, Dagobert’s weight between her thighs, his pelvis imprisoning hers as she reveled in his endless kiss. He moved her chemise aside with one smooth gesture, his strong hands exploring her hills and valleys in one unceasing caress. The pulse pounding in his manhood thumped against her secret lips and Alienor moaned, wrapping her knees around his waist to welcome him closer.

  He slipped lower, his elbows bracing her knees wide, his hands capturing her wrists. His tongue lit on that pearl hidden between her thighs, laving, teasing, caressing so that Alienor thought she might be driven to madness. She writhed against his strength, but he would not let her twist away from his touch.

  The heat built to a crescendo within her, onward and upward till she thought she could endure it no more, and still it grew. Suddenly, abruptly, light ran through her veins to her fingertips in a bright explosion of color. She thought she screamed as her back arched off the bed, every muscle extended in ecstasy and then satisfaction.

  She gasped for air, her arms clasping Dagobert’s neck when he rose to nuzzle the soft spot beneath her ear. The weight of his hands sliding over her breast quickened her blood again. Almost dizzy from her release, she felt her body begin to respond anew. She gasped with pleasure as his fingers slipped into the dampness between her legs, knowing that he intended to cast her over that precipice again.