‘No. My mind’s going round like a wheel on a cart.’
Rosemary, Ned could smell rosemary. His hand moved down Gwenn’s cheek and came to rest on the small pulse in her neck. He could see it beating, and slid his thumb across it in a delicate caress.
Gwenn enjoyed the sensation, and it came to her that she wanted Ned to kiss her. His kisses would heal her hurts. He would bring her back to herself. He would bring her down to earth. But Ned would not kiss her, despite his desire, unless she encouraged him. Ned would not have forgotten that she had once told him her liking did not match his.
She closed her eyes. ‘I like that.’
‘You do?’ Ned repeated the gesture. He was holding her as though she were as fragile and precious as glass from Araby.
‘Mmm.’ Reaching up to Ned’s neck, Gwenn caressed him in the same way. Ned groaned and she snatched her hand back. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘Like it?’ He caught her hand, kissed her fingertips and replaced them on his neck. ‘I love it.’
Gwenn smiled. She had never seen a man look at a woman the way Ned was looking at her. All soft, and gentle, and so very open. Ned looked...vulnerable. Men did not always look at their wives in this manner. She was privileged to have Ned as her husband. The knowledge warmed her. A memory from happier times sprang to the forefront of her mind. She saw her uncle telling her she must take care with Ned Fletcher. She had heeded his advice and had thought she understood what Waldin had been driving at, but even so she had not realised the extent of the power she had over Ned. His happiness rested entirely in her hands. It was a responsibility she was happy to shoulder, for Ned was kind. Ned cared for her. Ned would help her look after the children. She would fight to keep him happy when he gave so generously to her. No harm would ever come to Ned from her, their need for each other was a mutual need.
Gwenn let her fingers wander over his neck, watching the play of expressions on his face. He groaned again, shut his eyes, and when they reopened, they were all but black. She felt a rush of tenderness for him. His love drove away the dark shadows. He healed her hurts. ‘Always look at me like that, Ned,’ she murmured.
‘I always have,’ he muttered, and pulled her close to his chest, ‘only you were never allowed near enough to see.’
Gwenn untied the neck of his borrowed tunic and ran her fingertips over the sprinkling of fair hairs on his chest. Tentatively, feeling as though she were in a dream, she pressed her lips to his skin. Ned’s breathing was becoming ragged.
‘Gwenn don’t.’ He sounded so hoarse she hardly recognised his voice.
‘Don’t?’ Gwenn rubbed her cheek against his chest, bemused at her own actions, but she could not stop. She had not realised how good it would be simply to cuddle Ned. He felt so nice, so warm and solid – so alive.
‘Please, Gwenn, you’re driving me to distraction!’
‘In what way?’
Another row of explorative kisses burned Ned’s throat. He took her wrist and tried, rather feebly, to push her away. ‘I...I think you know in what way.’
‘But Ned, I’m your wife.’
‘I thought to spare you your wifely duties.’
‘Honourable fool,’ she said affectionately.
Ned groaned.
‘You want me, don’t you?’
‘Want you? Sweet Christ!’
‘Then make me Gwenn Fletcher in truth, Ned. Please. Help me.’
Ned swallowed.
‘I need to forget Gwenn Herevi. Help me look forwards, because if I don’t look forwards I will look back. And, if I look back, like Lot’s wife, I’ll turn into a pillar of salt. Help me, husband.’
Ned raised a trembling hand and stroked her cheek.
‘Kiss me, Ned.’ And, for modesty’s sake, lest Katarin should awaken, Gwenn reached for her cloak and drew it over them. Trustfully she twined her arms about Ned’s neck and waited for the touch of his lips. He was gentle, as she knew he would be, and his lips were soft. It was the second time Gwenn had been kissed, the last time had been with Ned’s cousin, and that had felt very different – exciting and not a little frightening. Ned did not frighten her. He was all reassurance. After a moment, she made to draw back, and immediately he loosed his hold as though he feared she was rejecting him. ‘I like kissing you, Ned.’
Ned’s eyes shone. ‘There are plenty more where that came from.’
They kissed again, and Ned’s hand slid over the curve of her hips and thighs, to the hem of her skirt. With his lips clinging to hers, he unclasped her belt and drew her gown and underskirt up to her waist. One of his legs found its way between her thighs.
Gwenn shifted on the mattress. ‘Show me what to do, Ned.’
Ned’s hand moved lightly over her waist, and Gwenn gasped when he reached her breasts. He pushed her clothes higher, and her mind clouded. It was bliss not to think. Blindly, she pressed closer to her husband and, in the absence of any direction from him, pushed one of her hands down the waist of his breeches and moved it gently over his buttocks. Ned groaned. Rightly taking this as encouragement, she pulled his hips to her, feeling the muscles cord and bunch under her fingers. He felt good, did Ned. Perhaps this marriage of hers would work in more ways than one. Perhaps what she felt for Ned could turn to passion...
As feeling took over, Gwenn’s thoughts became more tenuous. She was dimly aware that Ned was reaching for the ties of his chausses. Aware of a feverish impatience in him that she was half-beginning to understand, she assisted.
‘Gwenn, I don’t want to hurt you.’ Ned leaned up on his elbows, and she saw he was gritting his teeth in an effort to control himself.
She arched up and kissed his shoulder. ‘Ned, you’re too far away.’ She tugged his shoulders and that was that.
Ned fell into her.
‘Oh, Ned.’
Ned pushed once, twice, and then it was over, almost before it had begun. ‘Jesu, Gwenn, I’m sorry.’ Shuddering, and obviously shamed to the point of tears, Ned buried his face in her neck.
‘No need to apologise.’ Gwenn stroked the flaxen hair back from his damp brow.
‘I must have hurt you.’
‘No.’
‘It was too quick. You didn’t...like it. Oh God, Gwenn, I wanted so much for you to like it.’
Cradling his head, Gwenn kissed a hot cheek. ‘On my soul, it was fine, Ned.’
‘I love you, Gwenn.’
‘And I love you,’ Gwenn responded, realising with a start that she did love him. Not in the way of the grand passions that the troubadours sang of, but she did, most definitely, love him. Who could know Ned and not love him?
She became aware of a sticky wetness seeping out of her. Ned’s seed. It had been over more swiftly than she had thought it would, and the whole process was a thousand times more...animal than she had imagined, but whatever deficiencies there were in Ned’s technique, his love more than made up for it. And as for her not liking his lovemaking – it had hurt a little, but Gwenn had expected that. She had been a virgin. She would grow to like it, in time.
Easing himself out of her body, and filled with self-loathing, Ned drew his wife’s hand to rest on his shoulder. He avoided her eyes for fear of what he might read in them. Gwenn would despise him now, assuredly. Grimly, he hitched his chausses back into place. He had spoilt it. His rushed, callow fumbling had left them both fully clothed, and he’d reached a climax the instant he had entered her. Last time Ned had had a woman – a whore in Vannes – he had gone on for an age. Why could it not have been like that with Gwenn, whom he loved? She must hate him...hate him...
Gwenn grasped his chin with cool fingers. ‘Look at me, Ned.’
Ned braced himself to meet scorn and instead found himself basking in smiling warmth. Gwenn leaned forwards and pressed loving lips full on his. ‘Good night, my husband,’ she murmured, and nipped his lower lip between her teeth.