‘How close?’
She could tell from his tone that he was smiling, and her heart rose to hear the old, teasing note was back in his voice. Since Ned’s death, it had been missing. It’s the wine, she thought, the wine has relaxed him. ‘So no one can get between us. Please, Alan, I want you next to me.’
Abruptly, he shook his head and dropped her hand. And then the scales dropped from her eyes and Gwenn understood. Her unhappiness had blinded her to why Alan had been so remote. He had not taken a dislike to her. It was not that. It was not that at all, in fact it was quite the reverse. Alan desired her, and he was trying not to take advantage of her. Something clicked into place inside her, and she became aware of an overwhelming sense of justice, an overwhelming sense of rightness. It felt extraordinarily joyous. Yes. This was meant to be. This would right the wrong in her life. Still uncertain as to whether what she felt for Alan was love or lust, her revelation had her sitting bolt upright, and she cracked her head on the rafters.
‘Jesu, Gwenn, be careful,’ Alan muttered, and he put a hand on her hair and rubbed her smarting skull. His hand lingered, and she wanted it to, for she had been missing human contact, lately.
‘It’s alright, Alan,’ she caught his hand. ‘It’s alright. I understand–’
‘Shut up, will you,’ an irascible voice cut in. ‘Some of us are trying to sleep.’
‘Alan–’
He placed a gentle finger on her lips. ‘Hush, Blanche. I’ll fetch my things.’ He dragged his pack over and prepared for sleep.
She waited till he was stretched out at her side, and timidly touched his shoulder. His fingers covered hers.
‘Go to sleep, Gwenn.’
‘But, Alan... It’s alright. I understand, and I....I don’t mind.’
He rolled over, and their faces were less than a foot apart. ‘Hush. You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s your grief that speaks for you.’
‘That’s not true!’ she mouthed back at him, happier than she had been in months. She loved Ned, and his death was a tragedy, but Waldin had seen they were unsuited. Would Waldin have considered Alan her match? ‘I know you want me. We...we could comfort each other, and I’m perfectly safe, in case you’ve forgotten.’
He was slow to catch her meaning. ‘Safe?’
‘No harm could come of any...union. I can’t have your baby because...because I’m already carrying Ned’s. So you needn’t worry about having to commit yourself to me. I know you would hate that. We could comfort each other. Just a little comfort, Alan. I...I would like that.’
‘Comfort,’ Alan muttered, and then his voice went hard, and she knew that he would refuse her. ‘No, Gwenn. I can’t.’
The need to be held made her bold. ‘Why?’ she demanded, as the tight knot twisted in her belly. ‘Why?’
He smoothed back her hair. ‘Because, sweet Blanche,’ he was gentle again, as though he understood she hurt inside, ‘if we ever make love, it will not be in the common bedchamber of a common inn with a dozen strangers as our witnesses. If we ever make love...’
‘Aye?’ The knot in her belly dissolved. This was not outright rejection. Alan’s head was a dark shape against the lamplit rafters. He shook it, and she imagined him smiling.
‘It will not be like that.’ He sighed deeply, and she felt his breath as a warm caress on her cheek. ‘We must sleep now, Gwenn. We’ve a long ride in the morning. Good night.’
Someone turned down the lamp. Alan settled into his cloak and, rolling onto her back, Gwenn gazed up at the ceiling. Half of her was astounded and shocked that she, a widow of barely a week, had offered herself to Alan le Bret, but the other half knew it felt right. They were lying so close she could feel the heat of his body. It was reassuring. She heard him shift, and angled her head towards him. The lamp flickered, and it was hard to see, but she thought that he was watching her. She closed her eyes, and surreptitiously, shamelessly, edged closer, till her forehead was lightly pressed against his arm. She heard a break in the regular rhythm of his breathing and froze, vowing not to move again in case he pushed her away. After she had been lying still for what seemed like an eternity, she felt a light pressure on her head. She dare not move, and kept her own breathing light and even, in the hope he would think she had fallen asleep.
‘Gwenn?’
She did not respond.
‘Gwenn, I know you’re awake.’
She hardly breathed at all.
‘Gwenn?’
His hand slid down, and he caressed the skin under the neck of her gown. She kept her eyes clamped shut. Alan gave another sigh, and then he rolled slowly towards her and eased her into his arms.
Gwenn decided she could allow herself the smallest sigh of pleasure.
‘Sorceress,’ his voice, amused, murmured in her ear. ‘I knew you were awake.’
‘I didn’t think you’d mind. I...I only wanted to be held. I thought I’d feel better if you held me.’
‘And do you?’
She felt her colour rise and was thankful the lamplight was weak. ‘Aye. You don’t find sin in that?’
‘No. There’s no sin in that.’ He added something under his breath which sounded like, ‘More’s the pity.’
Gwenn wound an arm about Alan’s waist. ‘Good night, Alan, and God bless.’
‘Good night.’
Comforted, Gwenn dropped easily into sleep, but Alan lay awake turning their conversation over in his mind. He had been startled by her reaction when she had realised that he desired her, but not displeased. He kept remembering what she had said, about it being safe. And being pregnant with Ned’s child, she was right. She had said that she did not mind their coupling. Alan’s pride wanted more than that. Alan’s pride demanded that Gwenn should desire him too. It was not clear in his mind whether good women felt desire in quite the same way that bad women did. He saw Gwenn as a good woman, but... His thoughts trailed off, he was not in the mood for philosophising. At least it appeared that Gwenn thought she might be comforted by the act of love...
He rested his cheek against the softness of her hair, and breathed in the sweet, fresh smell of it. His loins ached. It was almost too much temptation. Briefly, he wondered whether any harm could come to her baby, and instantly there flashed into his mind the memory of his mother and stepfather making love in the room the family shared above the forge. His mother had been pregnant then, with Will, and she would not have consented if lovemaking threatened her unborn child; Alan’s mother had always been the best of mothers. No harm then would come to Gwenn’s babe if they did make love. He suppressed a groan. It was like a gift from God, every man’s dream. The woman who was the sum of his desires was safe and willing.
If Gwenn had not consented, he would have kept his distance till she was safely at Sword Point, but her consent made that impossible. He would go mad if he didn’t have her. He was barely managing to keep his hands off her tonight, and that was only because they were not alone. Odd that, he had never felt the need for privacy before. Privacy was such a luxury that most men must take their pleasures where and when they could.
Gwenn gave a moan of distress in her sleep, and involuntarily his arms tightened round her. She was so slight, just a skinny wand of a girl, with too-small breasts rather like the beggar-woman, not at all the sort of woman he usually took to his bed.
Alan calculated that if they rode between thirty or forty miles a day, it would take them a week to reach Richmond. He had kept the patched tent that the Duke, God rest him, had issued him with. He had avoided pitching it for fear of what he might do, but now... They could make love in glorious privacy in the tent.