Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(226)
“Shhh,” Shanna giggled, leaning against him. “You’re drunk. Someone might hear you.”
Assured that in the din his words would be unheard by any other than she, Ruark grinned lazily. “Aye, I’m drunk, but only on this nectar that is more heady than any wine I’ve dared to drink. I have a fever in my blood, a fire only you can quench. I feel it throbbing in my loins. Ride with me, fair damsel. Ride upon this horny dragon, and I shall set to flight any dreams of knights. A kiss, a soft caress, a gentle word, and like a moth I change my scaly armor for the softer coating of man. Ah, love, have care for this great beast. He lumbers in your wake like some poor, plodding soul begging just one glance, some sign of recognition from his adored one. Your gilded locks wave like a gonfalon on an airy breeze, and I think that now the fair damsel will turn and look at me and see me not as a monster, but as the one who would gladly kiss the soles of her feet. Ah, Shanna, my Shanna, be merciful to this besotted beast. Take me to your soft breast and release me from this scaly weight.”
Shanna was suffused with a warmth and tenderness she could neither fathom nor explain. It was on the tip of her tongue to deny her dreams as frivolous, a fantasy once held dear by a young girl but outgrown, like porcelain dolls. This was real, the hard feel of Ruark’s thigh against her own, her arm against his lean ribs, this cacophony of sight, smell, and noise that surrounded them yet, at the same time, shielded them from prying eyes. He was her lover, whether husband or not, and she gave herself freely to him whenever the moment was ripe. She had stopped denying him. She had ceased calling herself widow. She had come out of mourning, and strangely her spirit thrilled with the awareness of him.
A toast to the newlyweds broke her reverie, and Shanna turned as everyone around them rose to their feet, lifting their glasses high, and quickly followed suit. It was a prelude for the merrymakers to escort the blissful pair to their cottage, a procession which wandered through the streets as a moving celebration. Shanna found herself laughing again, though at times she cringed at the drunken humor of the sailors, which abused the imagination but elicited squealing giggles from the virginal maids.
It was almost a relief when the party began to disperse and Ruark took her back to her father. The carriage was brought, and Shanna was properly seated and left as a search began for Hergus. When the group was formed, complete with Hergus and Gaylord, Shanna was still in her place, her shawl neatly folded and held against her breast, both arms wrapped securely about it. The smile on her face reminded one of a cat well fed at the cost of a flock of canaries. Thus she sat, giving almost no heed as Ruark and Hergus crowded in on either side of her, leaving Sir Gaylord a choice of sharing the footman’s bench or a long, lonely walk. Seeing the knight’s dilemma, Pitney relented with a smile and sliding tightly against Trahern, causing the squire to give a disgruntled snort, Pitney patted the narrow space beside him in invitation. Gaylord sighed. He was not about to walk or to share the seat with a servant and had little choice but to wedge himself in. It was only casually noted by the others that Pitney’s huge elbow rested against the knight’s ribs, and it was not until the ride commenced that Gaylord, with each bump in the road, was given to sudden abrupt grunts as if he were pained.
Once at the manor, Shanna preceded Hergus up the stairs, and it was not until the door of her chambers was closed behind them that Shanna carefully laid the shawl on the bed and unfolded it to reveal an unopened bottle of champagne. Hergus was taken aback and gaped at her mistress, thinking for sure the lass had taken leave of her senses.
“Now what do ye intend to do with that, miss? I be believing ye’ve had enough of spirits, seeing how ye were flaunting yer bondsman beneath the noses of every moony-eyed twit who’s set their sights on him. And there yer pa was, too! It ye think the squire is an addlepated old man and blind to all yer shenanigans, then ye be lacking the wits I was thinking ye had.”
“Oh, I don’t think that,” Shanna declared with a laugh and went searching for glasses in the sitting room. “ ‘Tis just that I’ve come out of mourning, and it seems only fitting to celebrate.”
“What do ye mean, mourning?” Hergus called after her in bemusement. “I never knew ye to care overly much for Milly, nor even that the two of ye got along.” The maid shrugged and commented much to herself, “Mostly ‘cause the little chit, God rest her soul, had it in her mind to be envious of ye. If that Abe Hawkins wouldna taken himself to drinking his life away, she and her ma coulda had a lot more. But then, he hasna ever done an honest day’s work.”