The Blacksmith's Wife. Elisabeth HobbesЧитать онлайн книгу.
he is,’ Hal replied so curtly Joanna stepped back in alarm. His eyes hardened as he waved his hand across the room, shadows flickering across his face as he obliterated the candlelight. ‘What sensible man would want this gaudy pageantry?’
Now it was Joanna’s turn to feel sceptical. ‘How could anyone not wish to be a part of such excitement?’
‘Quite easily. When it’s over what is left of the opulence beyond empty lists? I prefer things that last.’
Joanna considered his words. When the fairs and tournaments were gone York felt empty and she spent her time dreaming of their return.
‘Why are you here if you hold it in such contempt?’ she asked.
Hal’s jaw tightened. ‘I would much rather not be. I have my own reasons for being in York, which will be poorly served by standing with you. If you are determined to wait until my brother notices you I shall leave you to your solitude. Good evening.’
He bowed briefly and strode past her, skirting around the edge of the room towards the entrance hall. Impulsively Joanna turned after Hal to follow after him but at that point the music ceased. She glanced to the dancers and saw Sir Roger dancing with yet another woman. As he bowed to his partner he turned and saw Joanna. She beamed at him, her heart beginning to race.
Sir Roger sauntered to where she stood. He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I had given up hope of you coming,’ he said.
Joanna’s stomach fluttered with satisfaction. Of course he had not seen her or he would have come sooner. He held out an arm and she slipped hers into it. She moved towards the centre of the room but Sir Roger tightened his grip and tugged her in the opposite direction.
‘I’ve been dancing long enough,’ he muttered.
Sighing with regret, Joanna allowed him to lead her outside. She shivered, wishing she had brought her cloak. ‘It’s cold,’ she protested.
Sir Roger pulled her around the side of the building and backed her against the wall. ‘I can warm you up.’ He grinned and kissed her. For a while all thoughts were obliterated, but as Sir Roger’s hand once more began to stray towards her breasts a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach.
‘We should go back inside. This isn’t seemly.’
Sir Roger rolled his eyes. ‘We are hardly alone.’ True enough there were others who had taken the opportunities afforded to them by the shadowy corners and archways of the Common Hall. ‘I have been away for months. You would not deny us this chance to get reacquainted?’
‘No...only...when will you speak to my uncle?’ Joanna asked shyly. ‘He spoke of other husbands, of men he knows would want me.’
Sir Roger’s jaw tightened. ‘And you would prefer one of these other men, is that what you are trying to tell me?’
Joanna reached hastily for his hands. ‘No, I love only you, I swear!’
Sir Roger’s mouth turned down petulantly. ‘Good. I hate the thought of you belonging to someone else. You say you love me but how can I believe you when your kisses are so cold and chaste? You may as well be my aunt or sister! Give me some token of your affection so I can believe you,’ he breathed.
Joanna smiled and began to unwind the scarf from her neck but Sir Roger caught her wrist. ‘Not that sort of token,’ he said. ‘Save that for the lists.’
‘Then what?’ Joanna asked.
‘I don’t believe it was my conversation you craved when you came to my tent. Show me how much I mean to you. That you want to be my wife.’
He tugged her closer until his mouth covered hers, tongue forcing her lips apart. His hips ground against hers, one leg pushing between her thighs. She felt his hand slip from her hair and begin to travel across her body. His teeth grazed her lips and Joanna winced. She tried not to cry out as Sir Roger’s fingers groped and dug into the soft flesh of her breast. Without warning he pinched her nipple hard.
Waves of unpleasant heat spread through her torso. She was dimly aware of what took place between a man and woman, but feeling these sensations bordering on pain the low cries that issued in the night from her aunt’s bedchamber began to make sense.
Were women supposed to like this show of male affection? Perhaps in time she would learn to, but at that moment Joanna would have given up all prospects of marriage to make it stop. She closed her eyes, reminding herself that this was the price for getting what she craved. A life of excitement with the man who made her heart pound. Not a bleak existence in a damp Welsh village with old Thomas Gruffydd. No longer an unwanted inconvenience in Simon’s household. Sir Roger would be satisfied soon and it would not happen again until after they were married.
The sound of someone whistling floated around the corner, a familiar tune that had been playing while she had talked with Hal. Sir Roger’s hand dropped from Joanna’s breast. He smiled down at her, his eyes still hungry. She returned his smile faintly, glad that she had pleased him.
The whistling stopped. For the second time that day Hal interrupted them but now Joanna found herself glad to see him. He sauntered across to where they stood, his eyes flickering knowingly from Sir Roger to Joanna.
‘I had barely crossed the room to find you and you were gone, Roger. I thought you might be out here.’
Had he followed them deliberately? His face was grim. Joanna looked away shamefaced. Clearly his opinion of her virtue, or lack of, had been confirmed afresh.
‘Joanna, go back inside. I’ll find you later,’ Sir Roger commanded. She nodded obediently and left, turning back briefly at the corner to glance at the two brothers. They mirrored each other, arms folded, legs apart and identical expressions of anger on their faces. Sir Roger’s was easy to understand but why Hal should have seemed so furious was a mystery.
* * *
‘Who is she?’ Hal asked curiously.
Joanna was different from the women Roger usually favoured, preferring them slender with chestnut hair and flashing eyes, not small and shapely with the air of a startled cat when surprised.
Roger gave the satisfied grin that never failed to set Hal’s teeth on edge. ‘You were talking to her while I danced. Did you discover nothing yourself?’
‘Only that she adores you and believes you feel the same,’ Hal snapped. ‘Do you?’
A guilty expression flitted across Roger’s face. ‘I’m fond of her I suppose. She amuses me and she’s so devoted. So biddable. She’s more innocent than I prefer but one can get tired of the same wine. White can provide a pleasant alternative to red occasionally.’
Hal wrinkled his nose. The description of Joanna struck him as apt. For all her indiscreet behaviour at the camp she had been modestly dressed. Her unhappiness when her virtue had been called into question had been real enough and her discomfort just now as she had submitted to Roger’s clumsy caresses was genuine.
‘You were doing your best to relieve her of any innocence she still possessed,’ he said darkly. ‘Is that fair? Or wise?’
Roger leered. ‘If she’s willing to play I’m not going to object.’
‘Do you intend to marry her?’ Hal asked.
‘I did consider it for a while,’ Roger said candidly. ‘Though sadly I’ve discovered this vintage turns out not to be as rich as I first hoped it might be.’
‘Stop jesting.’ Hal glowered. ‘Mistress Sollers is not the first woman you have deceived. If you do not intend to marry her make it clear and take no more liberties or I will inform Father of your behaviour. I don’t have to tell you what that might do in his current state of health.’
He strode away and was swallowed up by the city.