pour

Sabine stood before her chamber door and turned to face her husband. He bent forward, kissing her cheek lightly.

"A good night to you "

"And to you, M'lord"

Geoffrey squeezed her hand fondly and walked to his own chamber door, leaving Sabine to enter hers alone. She shut the door behind her, resting against it a moment, letting out a small sigh. Another long night was about to begin. She moved automatically as Margaret, her lady's maid, removed her gown and slipped a clean linen night shift over her head. Sitting at her dressing table, Sabine let her mind drift as Margaret brushed out her waist length, chestnut hair. James used to do this for her. Sabine closed her eyes, willing the image out of her mind.

A howling wind blew through the window, causing the candle flames to dance upon their wicks. Margaret paused in her brushing, and spoke quietly to her mistress.

“’Tis an enchanters wind, m’lady. You should put a copper piece in the window.”

Sabine nodded, and the girl began to braid her hair. Such superstitions were common amongst the village folk. Just this morning, when she was at market an old beggar woman had approached her. Pressing a small, cloth bag into Sabine’s hand, she spoke in a whisper.

“Toss this in your fire this eve, m’lady and that which you long for most will find you.”

Practicality told Sabine that the woman would have said anything had she thought it might produce a coin. But there had been something about the woman’s eyes, so vivid and sharp in her heavily lined face. Sabine had tossed the bag onto the embers of her hearth when she’d returned home. A puff of fragrant smoke coiled up from the bag as it burned. Sage, if Sabine knew her herbs, a simple bag of cooking spice whose only magic was that it had brought the old woman a silver piece.

Such folly, she thought as Margaret finished her braiding and bade her a good evening. Once again, Sabine was alone as she climbed into bed. The night loomed ahead of her, vast and empty. During the day, her household duties kept her far to busy to dwell on her loneliness, but at night, it threatened to consume her. She rolled to her side, then onto her back, knowing no position would ease the emptiness of her bed. She longed for the solid form of a man beside her, warm and comforting. Not just any man, but James, with his broad chest against her back and strong arms around her waist. Sabine curled onto her side, wrapping her own arms around her middle. James was dead, and he would never lie beside her again.

She thought of Geoffrey, the man she had married several months after James' death. Friends since childhood, their marriage was of mutual benefit to them both. For her, Geoffrey represented protection against the would-be suitors and gold diggers who flocked to a healthy young widow's door. For Geoffrey, whose true love was a man; Sabine was an acceptable wife, who would never ask for more than respect and companionship from him. They shared a genuine fondness for each other, but there were some things their marriage of convenience could not provide.

Unbidden, the memories of her first marriage came to her mind. Her father introducing her to James, a second son, thrust into Lordship upon the death of his brother, and in need of a noble bride. James was only a few inches taller than she was, but he had inherited his father's broad shoulders and chest, which made him seem larger. He had made her laugh that evening, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. Yes, her first marriage had been anything but a marriage of convenience. How many nights had they spent in this bed, discovering all the magical things that made their bodies sing. James would often light every candle in the room, so that her skin would glow like warm honey. He would run his fingers lightly over her skin,
again and again until it she fairly trembled with desire. Then, when the candles were thick with their waxy drippings, he’d slip into her aching body and make her burn brighter than all the flames combined.

James had made love to her that last morning in this bed also, and as he reached his climax, he’d whispered her name against her hair. Sabine tried to stop the next memories, but it was too late. She’d stood on the stone stairs of the keep, tying a blue silk scarf around the plate armor covering James’ arm. A favor for my champion, she’d said.

“A favor I shall return, m’lady” he’d replied with a kiss, keeping with tradition.

But all that had been returned to her was his lifeless body.

Sabine flung herself from the bed, clenching her teeth against the tears, having cried too many of them since that day. Finally, unable to bear the emptiness a moment longer, she yanked open her wardrobe to get her cloak. Wrapping the soft wool around her shift, she fled her chamber and slipped quietly down the stairs, through the kitchen and out to the gardens.

She hurried along the path until she reached the boxwood hedge maze. She'd solved the secret of this maze years ago and knew without thinking how to get to its center. She stepped into the circular clearing as the moon emerged from a passing cloud. Its pearlescent light illuminated the wild roses that clamored untamed over an arbor seat and the base of a gray marble statue standing in the center of the circle. It was of James, his right hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his smiling face looking out at the land. She had intended it to be a gift for his natal day, never thinking it would instead be his memorial. Sabine moved towards the statue, reaching a shaking hand out to rest against the cool stone. How he had loved this private garden, she used to wait for him in the arbor, running into his arms when he arrived. They'd made love here often; once James mounted her like a stallion, the crushed rose petals beneath their knees surrounding them in a heady fragrance. She sank to the ground, tears flowing freely down her face and bathing the statue’s stone feet as she finally gave into her sorrow.

The wind came again, stirring the loose strands of hair around Sabine’s face before gaining strength. A gust whipped one of the rose vines against her hand, the thorns scratching her skin, drawing fine beads of garnet. A soft object, carried by the wind fluttered over the base of the monument, coming to rest on her hand. Crimson blood bloomed like tiny roses through the faded blue silk.

“Your favor returned, M’lady."

Sabine stiffened, her sobs cutting off abruptly at the masculine voice. She rose stiffly, her hands clinging to the statue as if to support herself. Her breath was shallow and quick as she turned slowly towards the sound. Her eyes widened and her trembling hand flew to her throat, gasping as a figure moved towards her.

"James...?"

"Of course m'lady, who else do you meet in this garden?"

The laughter in his voice was hauntingly familiar but Sabine narrowed her eyes, stepping back against the statue's pedestal.

"How can...what sort of trickery is this?"

The man's eyes, James' eyes, gazed at her, his smile faltering at her retreat.

"'Tis not a trick, Sabine. You wished for me, so I came to you."

"But you can't be James...you're..." her voice caught in her throat, "He's dead."

A wistful smile curved his lips and he said softly "M'lady, haven’t I always told you death cannot stop True Love?"

He stepped towards her and reached out his hand. Sabine's body trembled as she felt the touch of his fingers against her cheek. He stroked it gently, curving down to cup her jaw, running his thumb over her bottom lip in an intimate gesture. Her eyes fell closed and a tear shimmered down her cheek. "Sweet heaven..."

"You remember." His voice was as soft as his caress. She felt him move closer to her, his words a warm whisper against her lips. "Do you also remember this?"

Eyes still closed, she felt the featherlight touch of his lips on hers, kissing first the corners, then the bow of her upper lip, and finally the full curve of the lower. He ran the tip of his tongue along it, tracing its shape before pulling it gently between his own. She swayed on her feet, but James snaked an arm around her waist, anchoring her solidly against him. His fingers still cupped her jaw and he moved his thumb to the corner of her mouth, stroking softly until her lips parted. He released her lower lip and he slid his tongue along its inner surface, before finally placing his lips full upon hers.

All doubts of who he was fled her mind as she kissed him back, drinking the passion from his lips. He moved the kiss from her lips, using his fingers to ease back her head. His lips traveled a sensuous path down her throat, dipping his tongue out to taste her soft skin as she whispered, "Yes, I remember..."

She could feel a soft chuckle hum against her skin as he rested his lips at the hollow of her throat. He moved his hands to clasp of her cloak, undoing the heavy brooch that fastened it closed. Next he worked the thin ribbon at the neck of her shift, laying bare her shoulders and the tops of her breasts. His hands brushed the material off her shoulders as his lips kissed along her collarbone, and Sabine felt the linen snake over her body and fall to the ground. He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and stepped back from her.

"Merciful god, I'd forgotten how the moonlight looked on your skin"

She started to open her eyes, but he lightly placed his fingertips over them.

"No, let me touch you, close your eyes and remember."

He trailed his fingers over her face; stopping briefly on her damp, parted lips. Then he moved them over her neck lightly, almost beyond her perception, to her shoulders again. He traced the slope of them, moving back, one hand pulling her braid forward so he could touch the nape of her neck. Like a sculptor, he smoothed his hands over her shoulder blades, down her spine to the subtle indentation of her waist. He rested his hands at her hips, sliding them forward until his thumbs brushed against the soft flesh of her stomach. Circling her navel once, he continued to skim his hands up her body, sensitizing her skin to a tingling warmth. A deep sigh escaped his lips, matched by one of her own as he cupped his hands under her breasts, lifting their fullness and squeezing gently. The rough pads of his thumbs brushed over the hard peaks of her nipples, then he bent his head and dropped a light kiss on each. With a soft moan, Sabine ran her fingers over his cropped hair, pulling his head up for a fierce kiss. He returned it in kind, pulling her up against him, the solid heat of his body seeping through his tunic to warm her naked flesh. He pulled away again, and she opened her eyes, watching him remove his cloak and lay it on the fertile ground along with hers. Taking his offered hand, she let him lead her down onto the woolen cloth and watched as he began to remove his clothes.

Lying back against his cloak, his masculine scent surrounding her, she drank in the sight of him. His eyes were dark with passion as he stripped off his tunic and breeches, though they never lost the underlying hint of merriment. When he stretched out beside her she reached out to touch him. She almost lost herself as at long last she felt his firm, living flesh beneath her fingers. She slid them over his chest, dancing over his flat male nipples and up to his shoulders. Pulling him against her, she pressed her soft breasts against his chest, wrapping her arms around him. She stroked his back, reacquainting herself with every inch of him. The raised scar low on his shoulder, the small dimples at the base of his spine, the firm muscles of his buttocks. His breath fanned the loose hair at her temples, and she could feel his heart pounding along with hers. Her fingers moved over his hipbone and delicately trailed down to trace the length of his manhood, smiling to herself as she felt him shudder.

"M'lady..." he started huskily "it seems…you have forgotten nothing"

He rolled her over onto her back, trailing light kisses down her torso, following with the sensual caress of his hands. His fingers gripped the gentle swell of her hips and she parted her legs without pause. She felt his lips brush the softness of her inner thigh, then blowing lightly over the silken hair covering her mound. His hands slipped lower to the tops of her thighs and he used his thumbs gently part her lower lips. In an echo of his earlier kiss, her slowly ran his tongue along the slippery folds of her sex, lightly kissing first one, then the other before flickering over the hard bud at their apex. Sabine cried out, her fingers clutching the heavy wool beneath her squirming body. James placed a last kiss over her damp curls and moved up her body. He captured her mouth, the taste of her desire clinging to his lips, and slid into her waiting body.

Her throaty moan broke the kiss, and her body closed around his familiar hardness. She wrapped her legs around his thighs in a long remembered motion and pulled him deeper inside her. His hips rocked hard against her, his face buried in her neck, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Forgive me...it's been so long"

"Too long" she replied, digging her fingers into his buttocks and pressing her hips up to meet his thrusts.

The familiar magic spiraled up from their joined bodies, quickening up her back and making her arch up off the ground. He climaxed seconds before she did, their mutual cries muffled from the outside world by the thick hedges that enclosed them. He murmured her name, kissing her shoulder softly, while she stroked his trembling body.

As they regained their breath, he rolled to his side, pulling her back against him, resting his hands low on her belly. He freed her hair from the remainders of its braid and lightly ran his fingers along her scalp, soothing her into relaxation. Just before she drifted off to sleep, she felt James slip something on her finger and whisper, “When you need me, remember this, Sabine”

The morning sun awoke Sabine in her own chamber, her hair spilling like a veil over her naked body. She opened her eyes and reached across the pillow. A ray of dawn light spiked through her window, glinting off something on her hand. Sitting up, she brought her hand closer to her face. Fine red lines were scratched across the back, and on her center finger was the wedding band she’d buried with James; a thick sterling band carved with the Norman script - pour toujours - for always.

©2001 A.M.Bÿlin. Not to be reproduced or redistributed in any way without express written permission of the author.