A Tapestry of Dreams Read online

Audris knew the last few words were part of what the priest said to a bride and groom. She clasped Hugh’s hand and said firmly, “And I to you, in sickness and in health, until death—”

  Hugh wrenched his hand free and covered her mouth, knowing he could have and should have stopped her sooner. He had been paralyzed by the joy of hearing her give herself to him, but he could not let her finish making what she might believe a binding oath.

  “Audris, dear and beloved Demoiselle,” he murmured, taking his hand away and barely touching her lips with his in recompense for his seeming rejection. “You must not promise what circumstances might make impossible for you to perform.”

  “You swore,” she said.

  “My case is different,” Hugh pointed out. “I am my own master, and it matters not at all whether or not there is issue of my body. Whatever I am, it is not a king’s son or a great earl’s, which would make my marriage a matter of state. I am free to swear my life and my soul to you, but you are not free. If your uncle ordered your marriage—”

  “He will not,” Audris broke in. “He would never force me. And what difference can it make whether or not I say the words aloud for you to hear? You can stop my tongue, but what is in my heart and mind is there already. I will never marry until—until I can have you, unicorn.”

  She had been about to say “until my uncle dies,” but she could not force out those words. Up to this moment she had thought them often, and said them sometimes, with ease and freedom—because her uncle’s life had been her protection, and she truly wished that he should live long, even outlive her. Now, suddenly, Oliver’s life was an obstruction, a firm wall between her and Hugh. But Oliver had given her her life—only a little neglect would have disposed of the babe that had come into his hands—and he had cared for her for over twenty-three years. Could she wish him dead now, just because she had found a man she desired?

  “You must not say such things. There is no chance that I would be acceptable to your uncle.”

  But Hugh was only saying words demanded by his strong conscience. Inside him was a growing determination to have this woman who set him afire body and soul. Others had won great estates by the strength of their arms. He knew his ability as a fighter. What he had lacked had been a reason to fight. Fortunately, he had taken the first step; he was Sir Hugh. The next must be to establish himself as nobly born, if possible. Hugh did not doubt that there would be lands and honors enough changing hands in England and elsewhere. Rebellion was brewing all over. If Audris was right about her uncle—and she might be, Hugh thought, for he was not unaware that Audris’s husband must supplant Sir Oliver—he might win enough land to make him a suitable match. He could sweeten the pot, too, by offering to take Audris to his lands and letting Oliver remain in Jernaeve. It was Audris he wanted, not the castle.

  The grim expression that had formed on Hugh’s face as he made his decision alarmed Audris. “I will say nothing to my uncle of how I feel, and he will not ask,” she assured him, but then she added passionately, “And I will never marry. I want you and none other. Hugh, please…”

  She was not sure for what she was pleading, only that Hugh’s face had become hard, the brilliant blue of his eyes suddenly seemed as cold as the blue of deep ice, and he seemed to be slipping away. But when she spoke, his expression changed at once to concern and tenderness, and he took her in his arms.

  “You need not say ‘please’ to me,” he murmured. “You have only to tell me what you want, and you will have it.”

  Relief brought Audris’s lighthearted mischief bubbling up. “Even if I ask for the moon?”

  But Hugh did not laugh as she expected. He loosened his grip and drew back just enough so she could see his face and he hers. “I would try, Audris,” he said very soberly. “I would die trying, even though I knew what you asked was impossible to achieve.”

  He had meant to reassure her, to say without actually saying the words that he would strive up to and including the giving of his life to make himself fit to ask for her in marriage. But Audris shuddered and pulled herself tight against him, burying her face in his chest.

  “I want you, only you,” she cried.

  “Yes, beloved Demoiselle.” He tightened his arms, trying to give her comfort. “I hear and understand.”

  Instead of comfort the words sent a chill of terror through Audris, and she lifted her head, her eyes wide with fear. Hugh answered in the only way he could; since his words seemed only to add to her unhappiness, he offered his lips. He had intended a brief touch, but Audris locked her arms around his neck and clung to him.

  Hugh was torn apart between guilt and desire. He realized that he had done a grave wrong in showing his admiration so openly when they had first met, but he had thought then that he was unlikely to see Audris again for many years, perhaps never. It had not occurred to him at the time that she would even remember him, except dimly as Bruno’s friend. What had passed between them when he came to beg lodging for Thurstan’s men had been more to blame, perhaps, but it was as if he were being carried along by an irresistible force. In any case, it was too late, he thought, as his tongue stole out between his lips to invade Audris’s mouth. She had remembered, as vividly as he had, and longed and desired as he had.

  Carefully, with his mouth still bound to hers, Hugh eased them down on the blanket so that they lay side by side but with Audris almost atop him. He pillowed her head on one upper arm, bending his elbow so that he could touch her ear and throat. His free hand stroked her body from breast to hip. Although she shivered from time to time, little by little the frantic grip around his neck relaxed. Audris’s lips had parted when his tongue came seeking, had closed around it, parted again; now Hugh’s tongue touched her teeth and slipped between them. She shivered more violently, and suddenly let go of his neck completely to slide her hand down his body. She found what she sought unerringly, laid her hand quietly over it, and then stroked upward. Hugh had to free his mouth to gasp air. He caught her hand and held it away from him.

  “It is too dangerous, Audris,” he said thickly, pressing quick kisses to her chin and cheeks between the words.

  “Dangerous?” She sounded as if she had never heard the word before.

  “Think, beloved,” Hugh said. “What if you were to get with child? Think!”

  She drew back and stared, then her fair brows drew together. “Why do you speak as if that were a dreadful thing? To me it would be a great joy, the greatest joy. To have your child—”

  “Out of wedlock!” Hugh interrupted bitterly. “Do you think I could bear that my son live as I have? As Bruno has?”

  “But he would not!” Audris cried. “I think if I had a child, my uncle would agree to my marriage with the father.”

  She said it only to soothe Hugh. Although she felt sure her uncle would yield and let her marry the man who fathered her child, she was not sure she could ask it of him—even for Hugh. But the thought of having a child, Hugh’s child, was a joy that drove her more forcefully than the demands of her body. Her only regret about the decision never to marry while her uncle lived was that she might be too old to have a child by the time she was free to marry.

  “More likely he would kill me for so dishonorable an act,” Hugh muttered. “And I would not blame him nor raise a hand to defend myself.”

  Audris stroked his face. “Uncle Oliver would know it was my doing as much as yours.”

  “Audris, you are mad! Even if what you say is true, we cannot take such a chance. What if some ill befell me before I could return?”

  “In wedlock or out of wedlock, there could be no doubt the child was mine,” Audris said stubbornly. “My child could not suffer the same fate as Bruno. My father did not recognize him, would not accept him, because his mother was a whore. My uncle could not deny my child—and who is to say it would be a son? Perhaps I would have a girl-child—”

  “Audris!” Hugh interru
pted again, rather despairingly, for her whole face had lit with joy.

  “Uncle Oliver would not like it,” she went on as if Hugh had not spoken, “but he would protect my child, and if—if he grew too old or—or died, I would call Bruno back, and he would stand by me.”

  Hugh pulled away from her completely. “No, Audris. No. I cannot—”

  “Am I to have nothing?” she cried. “Do you think I did not understand you when you warned me that ill might befall you and said you would struggle to the death to get me the moon?” Tears rose in her eyes and spilled over. “I desire you! I desire your child! We harm no one by what we do, no one!”

  It was true, Hugh thought, surprised. He had been thinking of Audris as he had been trained to think of any nobleman’s daughter—as her father’s possession to be used in marriage to make an advantageous alliance. To make such a girl desire him so that she would resist her father’s will, to take her maidenhead so that she would be less valuable as a marriage prize, would be stealing from her father as literally as taking his purse. But Sir Oliver had no such purpose for Audris and probably would prefer that she did not marry. If Oliver had wanted her married, he would have arranged for a husband years ago. And there was only a small chance she would conceive a child. Some women tried and prayed for years without success. Her words “Am I to have nothing?” rang in his own heart, too. When he left Jernaeve he would complete his duty to Thurstan and then set out to win an estate. If he should die in that attempt, his memories and Audris’s would be bitter and incomplete.

  Hugh did not answer in words, but sat up and undid his cloak and laid it aside, then pulled off his tunic and shirt. The air was chilly for a moment because he had been too warm without realizing it, and his body was damp with sweat. The mist had cleared while he and Audris were talking, the sun struck full into the sheltered hollow, and he was soon adjusted. Hugh was aware of movement beside him, but did not dare look to see what Audris was doing until cloth brushed his arm and her riding dress fell half over his lap in a crumpled heap. Then he turned.

  She was standing, reaching down to grip her shift so she could pull it off, but her eyes were on him and she seemed to have forgotten what she was about. Hugh smiled at her, took one of her hands and set it on his shoulder, then lifted first one foot and then another to pull off her shoes and stockings. He stroked her legs, shapely and hard muscled from climbing, then sighed deeply and bent down to kiss her feet.

  When Hugh sat up without replying to her plea, Audris had closed her eyes over her tears, but when she opened them again it was to see his tunic being pulled over his head. A spurt of joy lifted her to her feet and lent her fingers agility in undoing laces, but by the time she had dropped her riding dress, Hugh’s upper body was bare. It drew her eyes, and they caressed the swelling muscles of shoulder and arm, the flat, powerful bands across chest and back. Warmth stirred in her, laced by spikes of cold, for here and there were scars—ugly, puckered lines of dead white tissue and a few still angry pink, which stood out boldly against Hugh’s fair skin. The cold spikes of fear only added urgency to the growing heat of passion until Audris was bemused by the turmoil in her body.

  Placing her hand on his shoulder made the sensations more intense, and the removal of her shoes and stockings sent pulsing waves, like cramps but exquisitely pleasurable, across her thighs and belly. Then Hugh bent down and kissed her feet, taking away the support that had held her upright. Her knees gave way; she would have fallen except that her hand, elbow locked, still gripped Hugh’s shoulder. As he bent, she began to tip forward, but his head came up, and his hands gripped her waist and eased her down so she was on her knees before him. Then slowly, as if he wished to give her time to stop him, Hugh lifted off her shift. He did not turn his head as he laid it aside but bent forward and took her nipple in his mouth.

  Audris uttered a choked, wordless cry, and her fingers tightened on his shoulder until her nails bit into his flesh. Her other hand came up to press his head closer, but what she felt was already perfect. She needed more. There seemed to be a hungry emptiness between her thighs, and memory displayed the image of what she needed. Her hand fluttered away from Hugh’s head, touched his arm, then slid across to his chest, where her fingers stroked his skin, reaching steadily lower until they came to the tie of his chausses. She plucked at it blindly, and Hugh sighed and released her breast. Crying out softly again, this time in protest, Audris brought both hands to his head to redirect his attention.

  “Hush, hush,” he murmured, and lifted her bodily so he could lay her down.

  She clutched at him, fearing in her unreasoning need that he would leave her unsatisfied, but he kissed first one breast and then the other, and dimly she realized that he was struggling to undress himself. Although she still held him with one arm, the other followed his hand as he pushed the chausses down over his hips. Her fingers struck the curly hair and then the hot flesh of his shaft. Hugh shuddered and groaned softly as she slid her hand down and then up. He seized on a nipple again, simultaneously laying his hand over her mount of Venus and probing inward. Audris would have screamed with excitement, except that her breath was caught in her throat. Without realizing what she was doing, she tried to close her legs over his hand and drive it deeper. It was wrong. It was not enough. Audris was far beyond any capacity to think, but she knew what she wanted. She used the arm she had wrapped around his back to pull him over her, even pulling gently with the other hand.

  For only a moment Hugh resisted. He had never in his life been so intensely excited nor handled a woman as he was doing with Audris, and he did not want to stop. His past couplings had nothing to do with the woman he used, being solely a result of a need to relieve his sexual tension; he had desired only to satisfy the animal urge, to be rid of it as quickly as possible, and then confess his sin and cleanse himself. His total commitment to Audris had wiped out the guilt and shame that had been mingled with his earlier sexual experiences, resulting in an intensity of pleasure he had never imagined possible. Moreover, Hugh had never seen a body so much his notion of perfection as Audris’s. More than he wanted to take her, he wanted to caress—to touch, kiss, fondle—that perfect beauty.

  Not only perfect, but pure, for to Hugh, Audris looked virginal. Her skin was white without any hint of sickliness in its pallor, for it was so delicate that a faint rosy flush from the flesh beneath tinted it, and here and there a pale-blue network of thin veins marked it like lace. Her breasts were full but not large, with small nipples and aureoles a light, rich pink. And the curls that peeped from under her arms and crowned her mound of Venus were pure, pale gold. He felt her pull, but he had not yet kissed those golden curls or the moist lips they hid. Insanely, Hugh felt he wanted a dozen heads and a hundred hands with which to kiss and suck and touch.

  Then Audris pulled at him again, thrusting her hips upward toward his hand, and the sensuous movement brought an urgent peak to his desire. He turned and lifted himself over her, placing his hand over hers to position himself to thrust. But her hand was so small in his grasp, and she almost seemed to have disappeared under his bulk; Hugh hesitated, but Audris lifted herself toward him, and the head of his shaft, swollen to bursting, slid between her thighs and into the moist opening ready to receive it. Still, fear for her had tempered Hugh’s driving need, and he pressed forward gently. Audris gasped. He stopped and began to pull back, but her arms slid around his back, and her legs came up around his thighs and held him.

  “More,” she gasped.

  “I will hurt you,” he whispered.

  “I do not care!” she cried.

  He had hurt her already, but Audris was wild with excitement, and the pain mingled with the pulsing heat and need and seemed to increase it. There was a gaping hollow in her that must be filled, whatever the cost, and she tensed her legs and lifted her hips to drive him down into her. Hugh plunged.

  Audris felt she would tear apart, but at the same time there was
a blessed fulfillment, and then as he pulled back he tilted to one side, took her breast in his hand, and ran his thumb back and forth over the nipple. The sensation flooded over, down into the hollow that ached and throbbed with pleasure. Audris heaved again, and the pain/pleasure grew and grew and grew, making her thrust up harder and faster each time Hugh drew back, until a convulsion of joyful agony burst so violently that she had to scream aloud.

  Hugh heard her, but he had reached a point at which all outer awareness had no meaning. His rod felt large as a tree trunk and as if it had been filled with burning pitch—and each thrust pumped more and more, hotter and hotter substance into him. He had to burst—he had to, and yet he knew there was some compelling reason why he must not, and he fought to hold back that bursting. A moment or two after she cried out, Audris’s body relaxed under him. There was no place for thought in the maelstrom that was Hugh’s mind and body, but her stillness was the signal he had awaited. With a groan of release, he thrust once more, his seed springing from him in a hot torrent, and then again and again, sobbing softly with pleasure as he emptied himself.

  Release brought Hugh back to rationality, and in a moment terror had replaced passion; Audris was lying too still under him. The fear lent strength to his trembling arms, for he felt weaker than after a hard battle in which he had been wounded. Desperately, he pushed himself up and to the side. Audris’s eyes were closed. Holding his breath, Hugh laid his hand on her breast to feel for her heart. Instantly, her eyes snapped open.

  “Just give me time to catch my breath, Hugh.”

  He flopped over on his back, breathing out in a long sigh of mingled relief and exhaustion; nonetheless, it came to him that Audris’s remark was very peculiar.

  “What do you mean, give you time to catch your breath?” he asked. “Do you think I want to run races?”

  “I thought you wished to couple again,” she said, turning to look at him. “I am very willing, but—”