Chapter 6: For Better, For Worse
Title: Denial II: Chapter 6, For Better, For Worse
Author: jagnikjen
Characters/Pairings: Will/Djaq, Much/Carter
Rating: NC-17
Genre: angst, romance
Words: 3399
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by teamlavender . Takes place at the end of an AU 2x13. Introduction and chapter links for DII are here...
Summary: King Richard marries Will and Djaq. Much and Carter exchange vows privately. Robin's heart aches for the love he has lost...
>>-------------------->
Chapter 6: For Better, For Worse
Robin watched the others, his heart heavy. It should have been he and Marian being married by the king--first, at least. Not that he begrudged Djaq and Will their love, their child, or their wedding. But it hurt. It hurt a lot. He swallowed against the anger and the sorrow that churned within him.
Will caught his eye, his face somber. Robin could read the sympathy and the apology in Will's eyes. Robin offered Will a small smile, more like a grimace, if he was honest--it was the best he could do--and a nod. Will nodded back and then turned when Much called his name.
Robin's gaze also turned to Much. He looked good, very good. Better than he had in a long time. And happy. Mostly. That's what hurt Robin the most. And confused him the most. Much deserved all the best life had to offer. And Robin couldn't give him that right now. But it didn't set well that someone else could or that Much had actually left to take it.
Robin took a deep breath and shifted his gaze to Carter. The man who'd made Much happy; who'd provided that which Robin could not. He liked Carter. And he hated him. He'd taken Much away--Robin's friend, his brother, the person, after Marian, who meant the most to him.
As if feeling the weight of Robin's thoughts, Carter looked up and their gazes locked and held for several moments. To his credit, Carter kept his expression neutral, although he couldn't completely hide his sympathy.
A whistle from the front of the tent pulled both of their attention away from each other and to Bassam. Everyone else was looking in his direction as well.
"She comes," Bassam said to the small company with a bow.
Everyone remained facing the tent flap and the king rose from his throne and stepped forward.
A pair of guards pulled back the tent flaps and Djaq appeared in the opening. Everyone gasped. Djaq smiled, a shy but pleased smile.
She stood there swathed in a brilliant blue-green gown that covered most of her petite frame. Only her face and her hands, which held a single white cyclamen blossom, were visible. The thin gauzy fabric was shot through with silver threads and edged with intricate silver embroidery. The dress itself was long-sleeved, semi form-fitting, and fell to her feet. The long head scarf was loosely draped around her head and shoulders, one end hanging down her front, the other, down her back.
Robin watched her walk toward Will and the king.
The bride and groom exchanged shy but joyful smiles.
Stopping next to her groom, she looked from Will to the king and then inclined her head.
"You are a mighty beautiful bride, young lady," said King Richard.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." She offered a half-bow.
Will took her hand and the guests gathered round behind them.
The king looked from the bride and groom and scanned the faces of the guests. "We are gathered here today in the presence of God and this company to join these two people in holy matrimony."
"And Allah," said Djaq, looking up at the king in all seriousness.
"What?" asked the king, looking surprised to have been interrupted.
Robin's own breath caught. Oh, Djaq... He understood her need, her desire, but Robin wasn't sure the king would see it the same way. Robin saw her straighten her back and take a quick breath.
She dipped her head once and then looked the king in the eye and said, "With respect, Your Majesty, I am not a Christian. I do not worship your god. I worship Allah and I believe his presence is here also."
Just about every man in this tent knew of the king's mercurial moods. He could just as easily walk away as continue to perform the ceremony. Finally, the king nodded. Robin heard a collective release of breaths that echoed his own.
"Of course," said Richard. "We are gathered here today in the presence of God, Allah, and this company to join these two people in holy matrimony--"
Djaq nodded at Richard and softly said, "Thank you."
Richard inclined his head. "--which is commended to be honourable among all men and is not to be entered into lightly…but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two people now come to be joined. If anyone can show just cause why they should not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
The company remained quiet, although Robin fought the urge to scream about the unfairness of it all. But it was not Djaq and Will's fault that Marian was dead. It was Gisborne's, and as soon as Robin returned to England, he would exact his revenge. But now was not the time or the place for such thoughts. It was Djaq's day. Robin swallowed the lump in his throat and focused his attention on the king. It was easier than witnessing Will and especially Djaq's joy.
"...marriage, Will and Safiyya make a commitment together to face their disappointments, embrace their dreams, realize their hopes, and accept each others failures. Will and Safiyya promise one another to aspire to these ideals throughout their lives together through mutual understanding, openness, and sensitivity to each other."
A movement caught Robin's eye and his gaze strayed from the king to Much. And Carter. The two men shared tender looks and gentle smiles. Remembrance dawned, and hurt and anger sat like a stone in Robin's gut. How did he not recall what that sailor, Brooks, had said? How could he have been blind to the deep affection between them? Overwhelming sadness brought tears to his eyes and he blinked them back. Not that they were amiss--he was happy for Will and Djaq and overcome with Marian's loss. But he would cry in private. He would not cry here in front of his friends. Or in front of the king. He blinked and swallowed, forcing his emotions under control and his attention back to the ceremony.
"...take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, to keep thee only unto her, as long as you both shall live?"
Strong and sure, Will said, "I do."
"And Safiyya, do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, to keep thee only unto him, as long as you both shall live?"
Equally assured, Djaq said, "I do."
"Then by the power vested in me as the king of England, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Will enveloped Djaq in his arms and kissed her. Thoroughly and with as much passion as Robin had ever seen from his stoic quiet friend.
The newly married couple broke apart to the cheers and whistles of their witnesses. Djaq looked radiant and joyous. Will looked equally so. Robin hugged each of them in turn. "Congratulations, my friends. I am happy for you."
"Thank you, Robin," Djaq said softly. "I know this was not easy for you."
"No." He shook his head once.
"Refreshments in the mess tent," called one of the king's personal aides.
"Come, my love," Will said, taking Djaq's arm.
The group moved along in high spirits, Will and Djaq holding hands on the way. The soldiers and squires they passed smiled at the happy group. Robin lagged behind--he could not endure any further revelry. He hoped Djaq and Will would understand. He wasn't even sure they'd notice. He veered off and headed for the privacy of his own tent.
Much watched Robin change course and avoid the party altogether. His heart hurt for his beloved Robin, but he didn't know how to help him. If he even could. Much had a hard time having fun, although for Carter's sake he faked it. But he finally had enough and slipped away from the reception shortly after Djaq and Will departed.
He left Carter behind laughing and joking with his fellow private guards. Much told Carter he was off to relieve himself so Carter wouldn't worry and come looking for him. Too soon, at any rate. Much needed some time to himself, with his thoughts--he was worried about Robin. Old habits died hard. And even more-so since Robin's return to the Holy Land and Marian's death. Robin always held his feelings bottled up. It wasn't healthy and Much just hated to think--
Much shook his head. That was no longer his burden to carry. Not now that he and Carter were together. But still... Robin...
With a sigh, Much meandered back to the tent he shared with his new master. Nay, not his master any longer. Not since yesterday when, by word and deed of the sovereign, he'd been knighted and given his much-longed-for Bonchurch. He disrobed to his braies and fell to his pallet. He listened to the rise and fall of voices and laughter from the party. The cooling night air wafted through the netting and felt delightful to his skin. It reminded him of Sherwood. He closed his eyes and imagined the tall trees, the leafy canopy. He imagined their camp. Small and cosy. And he remembered even farther back to summers when he and Robin had slept in the loft in the barn, talking of girls and sex late into the night.
A tear trickled from his eye but he didn't bother to wipe it away. Sometimes life was just awful. And it was wonderful. Sometimes both at the same time.
"Much?" called Carter's familiar voice, soft and curious in the darkness. The tent flap lifted a moment later and his beloved stepped inside.
"Yes, I am here." He cleared his throat and tried to sound normal, but failed miserably. He could hear it himself and decided to confess. "I... I am just overwhelmed and needed to get away."
"You sound upset, my love." Carter dropped to the ground beside Much and felt around for his hand. "What's going on?"
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," Carter said as he stretched out along side Much, resting his head in one hand and resting the other hand on Much's heart. He felt the steady thump beneath his palm. His eyes adjusted to the darkness within their tent and he could finally make out Much's profile in the inky blackness. "Don't you know that I can sense your disquiet, your...sadness. You and I are connected, you see. And it hurts me when you hurt. Perhaps I can offer my shoulder to cry on, my ears to listen, my arms to comfort..."
Much remained quiet for a time and then nodded. "It is..." Much took a breath and said, in a rush, "It is Robin."
Carter couldn't help the sigh. But it wasn't a big surprise. He'd seen Much watching Robin on several occasions earlier in the day, Much's countenance always softened and fell when Robin was the object of his observation.
Much rolled away and Carter's hand hit the blanket.
"You see?" Much said. "I knew you would not be happy to hear about Robin."
He was right and he was wrong. It did pain him to hear Much speak of the other man, especially with such devotion. But as long as he did, as long as Much continued to share his thoughts and his feelings, then at least Carter knew what he was up against. "I know how much you still care for Robin, Much. And it is never easy seeing those you...love..." Carter was loath to use the word applied to Robin, but there was nothing for it. "...hurting. But in Robin's case there is little you can do. He must work through his grief in his own way."
"I could be there for him," Much said adamantly.
"You could, but would he let you? Has he ever let you?"
"After he was wounded." Much's voice became small. "When he was delusional--when he called for Marian...he let me... Then it was awkward for awhile, but eventually...we..."
Carter nodded, his heart clenching, suddenly remembering Much's confession. As gently as he could, he said, "He used you, Much." He hated to think of them together in that way, but that was part of Much, what made him him. And Carter could no more not love him than he could kill the king. He placed his hand on Much's upper arm. "You know that I love you, right? It's because of that love that I have a hard time dealing with your feelings for him."
"What?" Much rolled back to his back. "Why? I love you, too. I am with you now. I cannot go back."
"He does not deserve your loyalty or your love, Much."
Much sat up. "Don't ever say that again."
The vehemence in his voice startled Carter.
"I know what you think...what you think you see. But you cannot ever know what was between us. Please..." Much's voice broke. "...please don't hate him. He is just a man, you see. A broken and hurting man. And he will always hold a special place in my heart. I cannot help that."
Carter sat up as well and put his arms around Much. Much's words hurt. Carter only hoped that Much's feelings for him were equally as strong and long lasting. "I'm sorry, Much. I do not mean to hurt you. It's just that I am afraid of losing you."
Much softened within Carter's embrace and leaned his head onto Carter's. "You worry for nothing."
"Nay, Much, not for nothing." Another long sigh escaped Carter.
"How can I prove--oh, I know."
Much crawled away and Carter heard the rustle of clothing as Much searched for something.
"Ah..." he said and then returned and sat cross-legged in front of Carter. He held up two gold rings. They caught what little light filtered into the tent and shone softly.
"Where did you get those?" Carter asked, taking a hold of them, feeling them in Much's fingers.
"I saw them in the market...they have some designs etched into them. Hard to see in the dark, but they made me think of you...of us. And I, I bought them..."
"Much..." Carter whispered, his being filling with love.
Much took Carter's hand and cleared his throat. "I, Much, new knight of the realm and earl of Bonchurch, take you, Carter, beautiful, wonderful Carter as my beloved. For now and for always, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad, till death us do part." Then Much slid the ring down Carter's finger.
"That's a real possibility here, you know. Especially now that you're a true knight."
"Yes, I do know." Much squeezed his hand.
Carter readjusted their hands. "I, Carter of Wilton, knight of the realm, take you, my loyal and loving Much, as my beloved. For now and for always, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad, till death us do part." Carter pushed Much's ring into place.
"You may kiss your beloved," Much said.
Carter leaned in and brushed his lips across Much's, their hands still clasped between them. Much pressed closer, moving his mouth the way he did when he wanted more. Carter parted his lips, as did Much, and their mouths fused and their tongues slipped and slid and caressed the others'. Desire shot straight to Carter's groin and he groaned.
Together, they shifted and moved until they were lying together, Carter spooned in behind Much.
"I think one of us has too many clothes on," whispered Much.
"Are you sure?"
"We have just taken vows. We must con...consume...be together."
Carter chuckled as he stood and shucked his clothing. Then he rolled Much to his back and straddled him. "I believe the word you were looking for is consummate." Leaning over, he took control of Much's mouth in another heated kiss as he pressed his erection against Much's hardening flesh.
He pushed all thoughts but those of Much aside and concentrated on leaving his own mark on his lover's heart. He prayed it would be enough.
>>-------------------->
Will stood just inside the door and looked about the room Bassam had shown them into. "You know, after all that time in the forest, I was really looking forward to a real bed." He eyed the thick pallet dressed with jewel-toned fabrics and pillows of every shape and colour that dominated the space. Four lengths of a silvery gossamer fabric hung from a ring centred over the bed and were tucked under each corner of the pallet. "How are we supposed to sleep with all those pillows?"
Djaq laughed. "Well, first of all, it is our wedding night. We are not supposed to sleep. And those pillows may come in handy. Second of all, there is no real bed so that we do not break it while making mad passionate love. Plus, if we are rolling around, then we will not fall off and become injured."
Shock and confusion was written all over Will's face and Djaq grinned. "Come...I will show you." She took him by the hand and tugged him forward.
Then he caught sight of a low table just to the left of the door and laden with all sorts of food and drink. "What's with all that? We just ate."
"In my language, honeymoon is shahr el assal--which means month of honey. Some traditions say the bride and groom must spend the entire first month together in seclusion in order to firmly establish their marriage and ensure an heir."
Will's mouth dropped open and Djaq giggled. "Do not worry, my love. We only have provisions enough for a week. Then we mu--"
"A week?" Will brown eyes were large. "We're supposed to...to...for a week?"
Djaq rolled her eyes. "We will be allowed to sleep and eat at some point...just not yet..." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "Now do you have any other questions?" She ran her fingers along his furry jaw line and up into his soft dark hair.
He shook his head and pulled the scarf from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. "What's that?" he asked, eyeing her neck.
She smiled and said, "Another custom here in my country is that the bride is tattooed, temporarily, for the wedding. The mehndi is applied using henna which contains barakah."
"Barakah?"
"Blessings."
"Ah." He nodded. "And is it just on your neck--like a necklet?"
She sensed his hesitance as she slid her sleeves up and revealed her wrists and forearms. "No. Here and on my feet and legs."
"It's very...nice."
"You do not like it." It wasn't a question, nor an accusation; just an acknowledgment.
"I...I'm not sure. It's just different, Djaq, that's all. I'm sorry." He took a hold of her upper arms and kissed her. "But you always look beautiful to me, you know that, don't you?"
She saw his face, the remorse for not being as enthusiastic as she'd hoped, the apology in his eyes, and she instantly forgave him--not that there was really anything to forgive. As it was being applied, she'd wondered at his reaction and had half-expected it. But she was the bride and her traditions included the mehndi. She nodded. "Yes, my love, I know. Now, are we going to just stand here all night?"
Will shook his head. "No..." He then inspected her gown for fasteners, but she shook her head and crossed her arms across her mid-section and took hold of the fabric at her waist.
"No...let me," Will said.
Djaq dropped her arms. Will knelt and gathered handfuls of the soft fabric and rose slowly, pulling the gown up as he went. He gasped softly. "Djaq..." Her feet and lower legs were decorated with trees and vines and leaves. "Did you do that for me?"
"No, silly, I did it for John."
"What?" He looked up at her, his eyes wide in question and surprise.
"Just kidding. Of course, I did it for you. I wanted to honour your heritage as well...and your name has been written somewhere on my body for you to find."
His brow arced and a slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah?"
"Yes."
He began to lift her gown again and when he got to her middle, she raised her arms and Will tugged the gown up and over her head and dropped it next to her head scarf.
Her breasts, fuller now, were bound with soft linen, but she wore nothing else. Will looked in awe at her rounded belly-the place where their child grew. The child they’d created. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms about her waist, kissing her stomach.
Djaq rested her hands on his head, curling her fingers into his hair, and sighed. “Will, my love, come…” Reaching behind her, she took his hands. Then she stepped back and pulled him to his feet. She pulled off the linen from her upper body and divested Will of his tunic and reached for his breeches. Once they were both naked, she pulled him to the lavishly made-up pallet and lay down.
He tugged her over and up and she sat astride his thighs. His hands roamed over her and hers over him. Their gazes locked for several moments. His hands gripped her hips and guided her onto his erection, settling her snugly against himself until he was fully sheathed in her warm heat.
"Will..." she said on a sigh. His fingers tightened on her flesh.
With her strong thighs, she lifted herself partially off him and proceeded to ride him, grinding against him when they were flush once more. He bent his arms, offering her his hands for leverage and she laced her fingers through his. She established a slow, almost lazy, rhythm that sent delightful sensations rippling through her, until he too became caught up in the moment and met her downward glide with an upward thrust. They continued coming together and withdrawing, the pace increasing until they both were panting for breath.
"Djaq..." Will said.
Her name on his lips in that low pleading voice sent her soaring into climax. Her body spasmed around his and pulled a lusty groan from him as he bucked upwards twice and found his own release. She fell in a languid heap onto his chest, kissing the moist skin. "I love you, my husband."
"I love you, too."
On to Chapter 7...
Author: jagnikjen
Characters/Pairings: Will/Djaq, Much/Carter
Rating: NC-17
Genre: angst, romance
Words: 3399
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by teamlavender . Takes place at the end of an AU 2x13. Introduction and chapter links for DII are here...
Summary: King Richard marries Will and Djaq. Much and Carter exchange vows privately. Robin's heart aches for the love he has lost...
>>-------------------->
Chapter 6: For Better, For Worse
Robin watched the others, his heart heavy. It should have been he and Marian being married by the king--first, at least. Not that he begrudged Djaq and Will their love, their child, or their wedding. But it hurt. It hurt a lot. He swallowed against the anger and the sorrow that churned within him.
Will caught his eye, his face somber. Robin could read the sympathy and the apology in Will's eyes. Robin offered Will a small smile, more like a grimace, if he was honest--it was the best he could do--and a nod. Will nodded back and then turned when Much called his name.
Robin's gaze also turned to Much. He looked good, very good. Better than he had in a long time. And happy. Mostly. That's what hurt Robin the most. And confused him the most. Much deserved all the best life had to offer. And Robin couldn't give him that right now. But it didn't set well that someone else could or that Much had actually left to take it.
Robin took a deep breath and shifted his gaze to Carter. The man who'd made Much happy; who'd provided that which Robin could not. He liked Carter. And he hated him. He'd taken Much away--Robin's friend, his brother, the person, after Marian, who meant the most to him.
As if feeling the weight of Robin's thoughts, Carter looked up and their gazes locked and held for several moments. To his credit, Carter kept his expression neutral, although he couldn't completely hide his sympathy.
A whistle from the front of the tent pulled both of their attention away from each other and to Bassam. Everyone else was looking in his direction as well.
"She comes," Bassam said to the small company with a bow.
Everyone remained facing the tent flap and the king rose from his throne and stepped forward.
A pair of guards pulled back the tent flaps and Djaq appeared in the opening. Everyone gasped. Djaq smiled, a shy but pleased smile.
She stood there swathed in a brilliant blue-green gown that covered most of her petite frame. Only her face and her hands, which held a single white cyclamen blossom, were visible. The thin gauzy fabric was shot through with silver threads and edged with intricate silver embroidery. The dress itself was long-sleeved, semi form-fitting, and fell to her feet. The long head scarf was loosely draped around her head and shoulders, one end hanging down her front, the other, down her back.
Robin watched her walk toward Will and the king.
The bride and groom exchanged shy but joyful smiles.
Stopping next to her groom, she looked from Will to the king and then inclined her head.
"You are a mighty beautiful bride, young lady," said King Richard.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." She offered a half-bow.
Will took her hand and the guests gathered round behind them.
The king looked from the bride and groom and scanned the faces of the guests. "We are gathered here today in the presence of God and this company to join these two people in holy matrimony."
"And Allah," said Djaq, looking up at the king in all seriousness.
"What?" asked the king, looking surprised to have been interrupted.
Robin's own breath caught. Oh, Djaq... He understood her need, her desire, but Robin wasn't sure the king would see it the same way. Robin saw her straighten her back and take a quick breath.
She dipped her head once and then looked the king in the eye and said, "With respect, Your Majesty, I am not a Christian. I do not worship your god. I worship Allah and I believe his presence is here also."
Just about every man in this tent knew of the king's mercurial moods. He could just as easily walk away as continue to perform the ceremony. Finally, the king nodded. Robin heard a collective release of breaths that echoed his own.
"Of course," said Richard. "We are gathered here today in the presence of God, Allah, and this company to join these two people in holy matrimony--"
Djaq nodded at Richard and softly said, "Thank you."
Richard inclined his head. "--which is commended to be honourable among all men and is not to be entered into lightly…but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two people now come to be joined. If anyone can show just cause why they should not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
The company remained quiet, although Robin fought the urge to scream about the unfairness of it all. But it was not Djaq and Will's fault that Marian was dead. It was Gisborne's, and as soon as Robin returned to England, he would exact his revenge. But now was not the time or the place for such thoughts. It was Djaq's day. Robin swallowed the lump in his throat and focused his attention on the king. It was easier than witnessing Will and especially Djaq's joy.
"...marriage, Will and Safiyya make a commitment together to face their disappointments, embrace their dreams, realize their hopes, and accept each others failures. Will and Safiyya promise one another to aspire to these ideals throughout their lives together through mutual understanding, openness, and sensitivity to each other."
A movement caught Robin's eye and his gaze strayed from the king to Much. And Carter. The two men shared tender looks and gentle smiles. Remembrance dawned, and hurt and anger sat like a stone in Robin's gut. How did he not recall what that sailor, Brooks, had said? How could he have been blind to the deep affection between them? Overwhelming sadness brought tears to his eyes and he blinked them back. Not that they were amiss--he was happy for Will and Djaq and overcome with Marian's loss. But he would cry in private. He would not cry here in front of his friends. Or in front of the king. He blinked and swallowed, forcing his emotions under control and his attention back to the ceremony.
"...take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, to keep thee only unto her, as long as you both shall live?"
Strong and sure, Will said, "I do."
"And Safiyya, do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, to keep thee only unto him, as long as you both shall live?"
Equally assured, Djaq said, "I do."
"Then by the power vested in me as the king of England, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Will enveloped Djaq in his arms and kissed her. Thoroughly and with as much passion as Robin had ever seen from his stoic quiet friend.
The newly married couple broke apart to the cheers and whistles of their witnesses. Djaq looked radiant and joyous. Will looked equally so. Robin hugged each of them in turn. "Congratulations, my friends. I am happy for you."
"Thank you, Robin," Djaq said softly. "I know this was not easy for you."
"No." He shook his head once.
"Refreshments in the mess tent," called one of the king's personal aides.
"Come, my love," Will said, taking Djaq's arm.
The group moved along in high spirits, Will and Djaq holding hands on the way. The soldiers and squires they passed smiled at the happy group. Robin lagged behind--he could not endure any further revelry. He hoped Djaq and Will would understand. He wasn't even sure they'd notice. He veered off and headed for the privacy of his own tent.
Much watched Robin change course and avoid the party altogether. His heart hurt for his beloved Robin, but he didn't know how to help him. If he even could. Much had a hard time having fun, although for Carter's sake he faked it. But he finally had enough and slipped away from the reception shortly after Djaq and Will departed.
He left Carter behind laughing and joking with his fellow private guards. Much told Carter he was off to relieve himself so Carter wouldn't worry and come looking for him. Too soon, at any rate. Much needed some time to himself, with his thoughts--he was worried about Robin. Old habits died hard. And even more-so since Robin's return to the Holy Land and Marian's death. Robin always held his feelings bottled up. It wasn't healthy and Much just hated to think--
Much shook his head. That was no longer his burden to carry. Not now that he and Carter were together. But still... Robin...
With a sigh, Much meandered back to the tent he shared with his new master. Nay, not his master any longer. Not since yesterday when, by word and deed of the sovereign, he'd been knighted and given his much-longed-for Bonchurch. He disrobed to his braies and fell to his pallet. He listened to the rise and fall of voices and laughter from the party. The cooling night air wafted through the netting and felt delightful to his skin. It reminded him of Sherwood. He closed his eyes and imagined the tall trees, the leafy canopy. He imagined their camp. Small and cosy. And he remembered even farther back to summers when he and Robin had slept in the loft in the barn, talking of girls and sex late into the night.
A tear trickled from his eye but he didn't bother to wipe it away. Sometimes life was just awful. And it was wonderful. Sometimes both at the same time.
"Much?" called Carter's familiar voice, soft and curious in the darkness. The tent flap lifted a moment later and his beloved stepped inside.
"Yes, I am here." He cleared his throat and tried to sound normal, but failed miserably. He could hear it himself and decided to confess. "I... I am just overwhelmed and needed to get away."
"You sound upset, my love." Carter dropped to the ground beside Much and felt around for his hand. "What's going on?"
"It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," Carter said as he stretched out along side Much, resting his head in one hand and resting the other hand on Much's heart. He felt the steady thump beneath his palm. His eyes adjusted to the darkness within their tent and he could finally make out Much's profile in the inky blackness. "Don't you know that I can sense your disquiet, your...sadness. You and I are connected, you see. And it hurts me when you hurt. Perhaps I can offer my shoulder to cry on, my ears to listen, my arms to comfort..."
Much remained quiet for a time and then nodded. "It is..." Much took a breath and said, in a rush, "It is Robin."
Carter couldn't help the sigh. But it wasn't a big surprise. He'd seen Much watching Robin on several occasions earlier in the day, Much's countenance always softened and fell when Robin was the object of his observation.
Much rolled away and Carter's hand hit the blanket.
"You see?" Much said. "I knew you would not be happy to hear about Robin."
He was right and he was wrong. It did pain him to hear Much speak of the other man, especially with such devotion. But as long as he did, as long as Much continued to share his thoughts and his feelings, then at least Carter knew what he was up against. "I know how much you still care for Robin, Much. And it is never easy seeing those you...love..." Carter was loath to use the word applied to Robin, but there was nothing for it. "...hurting. But in Robin's case there is little you can do. He must work through his grief in his own way."
"I could be there for him," Much said adamantly.
"You could, but would he let you? Has he ever let you?"
"After he was wounded." Much's voice became small. "When he was delusional--when he called for Marian...he let me... Then it was awkward for awhile, but eventually...we..."
Carter nodded, his heart clenching, suddenly remembering Much's confession. As gently as he could, he said, "He used you, Much." He hated to think of them together in that way, but that was part of Much, what made him him. And Carter could no more not love him than he could kill the king. He placed his hand on Much's upper arm. "You know that I love you, right? It's because of that love that I have a hard time dealing with your feelings for him."
"What?" Much rolled back to his back. "Why? I love you, too. I am with you now. I cannot go back."
"He does not deserve your loyalty or your love, Much."
Much sat up. "Don't ever say that again."
The vehemence in his voice startled Carter.
"I know what you think...what you think you see. But you cannot ever know what was between us. Please..." Much's voice broke. "...please don't hate him. He is just a man, you see. A broken and hurting man. And he will always hold a special place in my heart. I cannot help that."
Carter sat up as well and put his arms around Much. Much's words hurt. Carter only hoped that Much's feelings for him were equally as strong and long lasting. "I'm sorry, Much. I do not mean to hurt you. It's just that I am afraid of losing you."
Much softened within Carter's embrace and leaned his head onto Carter's. "You worry for nothing."
"Nay, Much, not for nothing." Another long sigh escaped Carter.
"How can I prove--oh, I know."
Much crawled away and Carter heard the rustle of clothing as Much searched for something.
"Ah..." he said and then returned and sat cross-legged in front of Carter. He held up two gold rings. They caught what little light filtered into the tent and shone softly.
"Where did you get those?" Carter asked, taking a hold of them, feeling them in Much's fingers.
"I saw them in the market...they have some designs etched into them. Hard to see in the dark, but they made me think of you...of us. And I, I bought them..."
"Much..." Carter whispered, his being filling with love.
Much took Carter's hand and cleared his throat. "I, Much, new knight of the realm and earl of Bonchurch, take you, Carter, beautiful, wonderful Carter as my beloved. For now and for always, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad, till death us do part." Then Much slid the ring down Carter's finger.
"That's a real possibility here, you know. Especially now that you're a true knight."
"Yes, I do know." Much squeezed his hand.
Carter readjusted their hands. "I, Carter of Wilton, knight of the realm, take you, my loyal and loving Much, as my beloved. For now and for always, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad, till death us do part." Carter pushed Much's ring into place.
"You may kiss your beloved," Much said.
Carter leaned in and brushed his lips across Much's, their hands still clasped between them. Much pressed closer, moving his mouth the way he did when he wanted more. Carter parted his lips, as did Much, and their mouths fused and their tongues slipped and slid and caressed the others'. Desire shot straight to Carter's groin and he groaned.
Together, they shifted and moved until they were lying together, Carter spooned in behind Much.
"I think one of us has too many clothes on," whispered Much.
"Are you sure?"
"We have just taken vows. We must con...consume...be together."
Carter chuckled as he stood and shucked his clothing. Then he rolled Much to his back and straddled him. "I believe the word you were looking for is consummate." Leaning over, he took control of Much's mouth in another heated kiss as he pressed his erection against Much's hardening flesh.
He pushed all thoughts but those of Much aside and concentrated on leaving his own mark on his lover's heart. He prayed it would be enough.
>>-------------------->
Will stood just inside the door and looked about the room Bassam had shown them into. "You know, after all that time in the forest, I was really looking forward to a real bed." He eyed the thick pallet dressed with jewel-toned fabrics and pillows of every shape and colour that dominated the space. Four lengths of a silvery gossamer fabric hung from a ring centred over the bed and were tucked under each corner of the pallet. "How are we supposed to sleep with all those pillows?"
Djaq laughed. "Well, first of all, it is our wedding night. We are not supposed to sleep. And those pillows may come in handy. Second of all, there is no real bed so that we do not break it while making mad passionate love. Plus, if we are rolling around, then we will not fall off and become injured."
Shock and confusion was written all over Will's face and Djaq grinned. "Come...I will show you." She took him by the hand and tugged him forward.
Then he caught sight of a low table just to the left of the door and laden with all sorts of food and drink. "What's with all that? We just ate."
"In my language, honeymoon is shahr el assal--which means month of honey. Some traditions say the bride and groom must spend the entire first month together in seclusion in order to firmly establish their marriage and ensure an heir."
Will's mouth dropped open and Djaq giggled. "Do not worry, my love. We only have provisions enough for a week. Then we mu--"
"A week?" Will brown eyes were large. "We're supposed to...to...for a week?"
Djaq rolled her eyes. "We will be allowed to sleep and eat at some point...just not yet..." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "Now do you have any other questions?" She ran her fingers along his furry jaw line and up into his soft dark hair.
He shook his head and pulled the scarf from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. "What's that?" he asked, eyeing her neck.
She smiled and said, "Another custom here in my country is that the bride is tattooed, temporarily, for the wedding. The mehndi is applied using henna which contains barakah."
"Barakah?"
"Blessings."
"Ah." He nodded. "And is it just on your neck--like a necklet?"
She sensed his hesitance as she slid her sleeves up and revealed her wrists and forearms. "No. Here and on my feet and legs."
"It's very...nice."
"You do not like it." It wasn't a question, nor an accusation; just an acknowledgment.
"I...I'm not sure. It's just different, Djaq, that's all. I'm sorry." He took a hold of her upper arms and kissed her. "But you always look beautiful to me, you know that, don't you?"
She saw his face, the remorse for not being as enthusiastic as she'd hoped, the apology in his eyes, and she instantly forgave him--not that there was really anything to forgive. As it was being applied, she'd wondered at his reaction and had half-expected it. But she was the bride and her traditions included the mehndi. She nodded. "Yes, my love, I know. Now, are we going to just stand here all night?"
Will shook his head. "No..." He then inspected her gown for fasteners, but she shook her head and crossed her arms across her mid-section and took hold of the fabric at her waist.
"No...let me," Will said.
Djaq dropped her arms. Will knelt and gathered handfuls of the soft fabric and rose slowly, pulling the gown up as he went. He gasped softly. "Djaq..." Her feet and lower legs were decorated with trees and vines and leaves. "Did you do that for me?"
"No, silly, I did it for John."
"What?" He looked up at her, his eyes wide in question and surprise.
"Just kidding. Of course, I did it for you. I wanted to honour your heritage as well...and your name has been written somewhere on my body for you to find."
His brow arced and a slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah?"
"Yes."
He began to lift her gown again and when he got to her middle, she raised her arms and Will tugged the gown up and over her head and dropped it next to her head scarf.
Her breasts, fuller now, were bound with soft linen, but she wore nothing else. Will looked in awe at her rounded belly-the place where their child grew. The child they’d created. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms about her waist, kissing her stomach.
Djaq rested her hands on his head, curling her fingers into his hair, and sighed. “Will, my love, come…” Reaching behind her, she took his hands. Then she stepped back and pulled him to his feet. She pulled off the linen from her upper body and divested Will of his tunic and reached for his breeches. Once they were both naked, she pulled him to the lavishly made-up pallet and lay down.
He tugged her over and up and she sat astride his thighs. His hands roamed over her and hers over him. Their gazes locked for several moments. His hands gripped her hips and guided her onto his erection, settling her snugly against himself until he was fully sheathed in her warm heat.
"Will..." she said on a sigh. His fingers tightened on her flesh.
With her strong thighs, she lifted herself partially off him and proceeded to ride him, grinding against him when they were flush once more. He bent his arms, offering her his hands for leverage and she laced her fingers through his. She established a slow, almost lazy, rhythm that sent delightful sensations rippling through her, until he too became caught up in the moment and met her downward glide with an upward thrust. They continued coming together and withdrawing, the pace increasing until they both were panting for breath.
"Djaq..." Will said.
Her name on his lips in that low pleading voice sent her soaring into climax. Her body spasmed around his and pulled a lusty groan from him as he bucked upwards twice and found his own release. She fell in a languid heap onto his chest, kissing the moist skin. "I love you, my husband."
"I love you, too."
On to Chapter 7...