The following day arrived bright and clear with a cool breeze that sharpened the senses. Alais rose once more to discover that she was alone and she attended to her toilette hastily, glad of having her own things in the room. Today was when those who had fallen in the battle would be buried and Father Almaric would be grateful for her assistance. She went down to the small chapel within the castle to find men hard at work digging the graveplots required, as well as some of Cynric's own men, and Jack Marshall.
It was clear that the grave he was working on was intended for his father. He had chosen a prime spot in the shade of a yew and was working diligently, his shirt and tunic discarded on the soft grass. Alais watched his strong, lean muscles slide underneath his golden brown, sweat dewed torso. He was whipcord thin but with the sinewy strength that came with young manhood. His muscles were clearly defined and his chest bore the merest smattering of golden fuzz that tapered down into his loosely tied braies most distractingly. She wondered how it would feel to lie with a man as young and sweet as herself. Though Cynric was in the prime of his years and more than a match for her, he was cynical, aggressive, controlling and he mocked her youth and inexperience. She wondered if Jack had already lain with many women. Most young men felt that they were entitled to a few years of sport before they settled upon a marriage mate. Jack could not be past his 18th or 19th year and yet the freedom afforded to men and the nature of their competitiveness and lewd jesting meant that he was probably far more worldy-wise than she was. He felt her eyes upon him and raised his head before putting his spade down and standing somewhat to attention in the presence of his betters. Alais flushed, embarrassed, before hastily gathering her scattered wits. Once again she reminded herself that she was his duchess and however unwillingly, a married woman.
"Good morrow Jack, I am sorry that such menial tasks are falling to trained men like yourself." Jack was a knight now and by rights he should be exercising his horse or practising swordplay with a couple of young squires to run his errands for him. That he seemed equally content with such a task as grave digging elevated her respect for him considerably.
"Good morrow lady. In truth I do not mind. It keeps me from mischief and I will not be first in line to stand shoulder to shoulder with Cynric's hired heathens. My horse is lame and I do not like to sit idle." Alais smiled despite herself, surprised and pleased that he would speak so freely with her. She kept her eyes downcast though, or else they would be all over his exposed flesh and any pretence of propriety would be lost.
He was so like his father. John Marshall had possessed the same easy grace and plain manner of speaking. John had been loyal to a fault but if he disagreed with his orders he would say so and usually his reasoning was sound.
"That is very diplomatic of you. Cynric appears to be here for the foreseeable however and I will need men like you when Henry sends knights and men to challenge him. If you really feel that you cannot stay... I am sure you could be released from your pledge."
Naturally, she knew without question that he wasn't a deserter, she simply wanted to hear him say once more that he would serve her till death. She knew exactly where she stood with Jack and it was dangerously seductive.
"Lady..." Jack climbed out of the grave and moved closer to her. Alais' heart thundered in her breast and she felt sure that he must hear it. She could smell him, the manly tang of sweat, soil, ale and horses. She fought the impulse to step away, as he appeared to want to confide in her. He looked around furtively and then bent to speak low in her ear. "It does not have to be this way... if it is
you
who should desire release. As you say... I have been trained and not just to swing a sword like a cudgel. I could free you lady and it would be quick, clean and untraceable." He lifted his eyes to meet her own and she trembled, not with horror at his suggestion but naked desire for him. He interpreted the former however and stepped away, chagrined.
"I am sorry, it was not my intention to upset you thus." He raised his hands apologetically and returned to his task. "I ask you only to consider things as a pragmatic ruler must. I will do nothing without your command." Alais nodded curtly and turned away, unable to utter a single word in this exquisite young man's presence.
As she walked away, Alais realised that Cynric's coupling with her had awakened a part of her nature that had been entirely dormant. She had never responded in such a way to a young man before. She had a new knowledge and maturity now and she was not sure she could bear it when it came to Jack Marshall. Her loins throbbed and she knew that once alone in her chamber, she would be touching herself and imagining that warm brown skin pressed against her soft, pale curves.
Later that afternoon, she stood beside her husband as prayers were said for the fallen and those worthy of a burial plot were interred. By necessity, some were to be cremated today and a huge communal funeral pyre had been built in the grounds. She watched Jack from beneath her lashes as he said a few brief words about his father and then left the ceremony to bury him properly. Some would not be properly interred until the morning and it was not unheard of for foxes and other animals to interfere with partially filled graves, let alone those desperate and unscrupulous enough to seek valuables among the corpses.
Alais' attraction to Jack was causing her to start resenting Cynric and later in the evening, when he suggested that they retired, she sighed with resignation as she rose to walk with him from the great hall.
