Cenwulf does his duty

Cenwulf added a log to the fire and then sat on the edge of the chest so that he could remove his boots.

He was still not accustomed to the empty space where Ardith’s cradle had been. Edris had not wanted to see her go at all, but Ardith had turned a year old two days before, and a year was as long as he was willing to share his bedroom with the child.

He was usually up and gone before dawn, but Ardith tended to wake soon after, and that meant Edris had to wake as well. He knew that Edris liked to sleep a little later–needed to sleep a little later. He wouldn’t have her tired out to please that wee lady. That was why they had nurses.

Ardith also had a disconcerting habit of poking her face up over the edge of her cradle at precisely the moments when he would least like to have an audience, but that was not among the reasons he gave to Edris.

In any event, it was convenient at times to be the lord and make the rules.

He stood and removed his belt, his tunic, his shirt.

Edris was sleeping on her side with her back to him, as she often did – at least at first.

The blankets were draped lightly over her body, and from this angle, each of her curves rose and partially hid the curve behind. There was the long, slow rise of her legs, the sudden swell of her hips that dipped down into her side and rose gradually again in her back, and then her round shoulder that hid the hollow of her neck, her chin, her cheek, and finally the top of her head, and her silky, fox-​​colored hair that flowed off across her pillow.

He dropped his bundle of clothes onto the top of the chest from on high, thoughtlessly but deliberately, and then cursed himself for trying to wake her.

Anyway, he told himself, the muffled thump of fabric on wood was not enough to wake Edris. She never heard him come in unless he spoke aloud. Even if he was careless when he took off his boots.

He picked up his boots and moved them a bit to the side, dropping them from a few inches off the floor. So! She didn’t stir. He obviously hadn’t meant to wake her with his clothes.

He shook out his long hair and came around to his side of the bed. From here, the successive curves of her body resolved themselves into a single, sinuous line. The curve of her back lifted her hip to the height of her shoulder. The hollows of her flank and of her long neck were both places where a hand would naturally come to rest, even if it set out to sweep over her shoulder, her hips, or along her spine.

Of course, she must not be awoken.

He pulled down the blankets and fumbled into bed. He hadn’t awoken her, had he? He would check.

“Edris?” he whispered.

She turned. Her head turned to a profile, and her shoulder fell back half-​​way, but her hip remained in place, and its twist only lengthened the long curve of her back.

He also could see now that she was not wearing the high-​​necked gown she often wore, but instead the soft, pink gown that had a habit of slipping off her shoulder, and, even if it didn’t, could easily be opened and loosened with only a tug at the little ribbon that tied it.

Colburga had never dared to wear pink with her red hair, but Edris wore whatever color she pleased. He liked the pink on her, the color of a blush upon her pale skin… But of course, Colburga had been right. Red-​​headed women should not wear pink. Edris had no style.

“Are you just coming to bed?” she whispered.

“Yes.” He laid a hand on her arm. His hand could go nowhere from that point.

She rolled over onto her back and looked up at him. His hand had to move, so he laid it on her belly, just below her ribs. That was safe. It rose and fell as she breathed.

“Is it late?” she murmured.

“I suppose it is. I’m sorry to wake you.”

“It is no matter.”

She struggled up out of the blankets to sit up, and he slid an arm behind her shoulders – to help her. But she relaxed against it, and so he could not remove it. It was not his fault.

“Did you check on Ardith?” she asked.

“I am certain she is sleeping well. You mustn’t worry about her.”

“It is so quiet without her breathing.”

“You won’t even notice it once I start to snore.”

“You don’t snore, though, I don’t tink. But sometimes you stop to breathe, and I don’t like dat.” She was missing the half of her th’s in her sleepiness, and her head rolled drowsily upon his arm.

He tried to think of something droll to say, and failed; something gallant to say, and failed. “Does it frighten you?” he asked.

“Oh, every time I tink you will not breathe again, and every time you do. It is wearing after a while. But you only do it when you sleep on your back. If I come next to you, and tickle your chin, you put your arm over me and stop.”

“You tickle my chin when I am sleeping?”

“It is the only ting you notice.”

“How do you do it?” he asked – only because he didn’t believe he had a ticklish chin.

She smiled and turned to him, and she lifted her hand to tickle him beneath the chin, just behind his beard.

It did tickle. He caught her hand in his and held it – only so that she would not try it again. “What else do you do to me when I am sleeping?”

“Oh, nothing.” She pronounced it almost like no-​​ting. Her tongue was too tired to cooperate. A sleepy tongue, that was something funny – but he should not be thinking about her tongue.

“Only sometimes I only look at you,” she continued. “Sometimes you look happy when you sleep.”

He thought it must be when he dreamt of Colburga. He didn’t dream of Colburga very often, anymore. Surely she didn’t often see him happy.

Her eyes began to drift closed. “I am foolish to tell you all my secrets,” she smiled. “Now you will turn your back to me, so I don’t tickle your chin or look at you.”

He didn’t have to, did he? Surely she could do as she liked.

“Perhaps you don’t like it when I look at you,” he suggested.

“Oh, I don’t mind. So long as you don’t laugh.”

“Laugh? Why should I laugh?”

“Because I am so funny-​​looking.”

“What nonsense!” he whispered.

It was true she hadn’t Colburga’s beauty. It was true she had a good many freckles, and her eyelashes were more red than black, and her hair was more red than auburn, and one of her brows was far more mobile than the other… and it was true she cocked her head like a blackbird listening for a worm when she was thoughtful… and it was true that the way her nose curved up at the end tended to make one smile… but that didn’t make her funny-​​looking.

She opened her eyes suddenly, and he drew back his head. He hadn’t realized it was so close to hers, and he was worried about the expression she might have surprised on his face. It was only that her nose had made him smile…

She put her arm behind his shoulder and pulled herself closer to him. His hand had settled in the hollow of her flank, as he had suspected it would if he laid it on her hip. Had he? Hadn’t he been holding her hand?

Her gown had slipped down over her shoulder, but it was the wrong shoulder – the shoulder on which she lay. To see the other he would have to give the ribbon a tug. But then she would know.

But wasn’t it his duty? Surely the rest… Alred and Sigefrith didn’t know anything… that was different… But this? He was her husband. It was his duty. Whether he liked it or not.

He smoothed her pink gown out over her hip and then rolled over onto his back, pulling her down on top of him. Then it would not be his fault. If she loved him, what could he do? Only his duty.