Twelve Kisses Read Free Page A

blue gown, a cut-down from her mother‘s, her
wifely cap, her belt of scarlet. Her new furs were there, bought
for her by David. They were gray and white—mostly white—and very
deep and thick. These must have been costly
and possibly against the law for a simple woman like me, though we
all ignore such foolish laws. His own cloak
was tossed over a stool. It was serviceable but patched. David wants me to be warm .
    Her eyes ranged to the flask and cups, the fine soft bread and
cheese, the bags of raisins, apples, and dried cherries. He had
remembered she loved cherries. David wants
me to be fed and comfortable.
    She smiled and rolled over to say her prayers.
    * * *
*
    David found her sleeping, her long hair loose and draped over
a pillow. He lifted a dark lock and kissed it, then dropped it,
feeling foolish. She slept on, a half-smile on her lips, her dark
lashes fluttering in a dream.
    I have been too long outside, seeking to master
myself .
    Amused at his own misfortune, he dropped off his clothes and
slid carefully in beside her. She sighed in her sleep and still
sleeping, thrust out her bottom for him to curl up against her
narrow back. He gathered her into his arms, aroused and wakeful,
but curiously content.
    I will never sleep, but what does it matter? It is
Christmas-time, a holiday, and I am here with Alis.
    He kissed the back of her neck and smiled.
    * * *
*
    Alis dreamed she was shoving a boulder uphill, but as she
reached the summit a man wearing a crown kicked it back again. She
started awake and realized the “rock” was her new husband, snoring
gently against her.
    She pinched his arm to encourage him to lift it off her, and
he merely tightened his iron grip about her middle.
    “ David, you hurt me,” she whispered, and he relaxed at once.
Inspired, she whispered, “Roll over.”
    He did so, turning onto his back, and she was free to stare at
him by the flickering fire. He looked younger in sleep, less grim,
less massive. His mouth wore a faint smile in sleep, and his
eyelashes were as blond as she had wished her hair to be when she
was a girl. Flames burnished his short hair and his fair chest
hairs. Shadows added definition to his tall, sinewy
frame.
    She looked a long time, wishing to touch his thick blond
eyebrows, or steal a kiss from his relaxed, generous mouth. Growing
bolder as he slept, she lifted the covers and peered as well as she
could beneath the sheets, blushing at her own curiosity.
    She had known he was strong, but not how beautiful his
masculine body was. Each muscle curved where it should. His arms
were sinewy from years in the forge, and his chest was broad, his
belly flat, his legs shapely. His manhood—hastily Alis dropped the
sheet, wondering if her staring was a sin.
    She ran her toes against his calves, relishing their strength.
She brushed a fingertip against a scar on his right flank then a
scar on his right arm. War
wounds , she thought, wondering what horrors
he had witnessed. He had fought for the enemy, but she knew he had
not harmed her brother, nor any of hers. He would have told her,
else. She kissed the scar on his arm and placed her palm against
his ribs, feeling him breathe.
    “ You are awake,” she said, flustered at having been found out
in her spying. “Forgive me, should I bring you some
ale?”
    He clasped her fluttering hand and placed it back across his
navel. “You are lovely,” he said. “Do as you wish.”
    She wanted to do more but dared not. “May I ask—” The rest of
her question became trapped in her throat as he leaned up and
kissed her.
    “ Happy Christmas, wife.”
    “ Is that my first Christmas kiss?”
    He smiled, his eyes bright in the semi-dark. “Do you wish it
to be?”
    * * *
*
    She said nothing, but somehow he knew. In bed together, naked,
nestled close like puppies, he felt close to her. Bed could be
their own soft world, where he could spoil her, where he could
forget wars and kings and be himself again.
    And she desired him.