'Mauger!' Her hand went to her mouth, to her lips still full and red from Benedict's kisses. 'What… what are you doing here?'

He gave the reins to a groom and turned round. 'I could ask the same of you,' he replied while removing his coif and arming cap. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a short, deep cut under his left cheekbone.

'I, I…' she stammered, hoping against hope that Benedict would not leave the garden now beneath the full suspicion of Mauger's jealous gaze. Dear Jesu, what if the troop had arrived just a little later into the night. Her face flamed. She sought swiftly for a means of escape. 'Oh, that is easily explained, but surely you will be more comfortable if you come within and let me help you unarm.'

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded stiffly and consented to follow her towards the keep.

'You look as if you have ridden hard,' she said to engage his attention, and forced herself not to crane her neck in the direction of the garden.

'I have.' He rubbed a weary hand over his face. 'There is news, grave news from Rouen. Your father must be summoned, and Benedict too.'

Julitta's entire spine prickled with cold. Somehow she managed to keep moving. To have stopped and stared at mention of his name would have given her away. 'Benedict and Gisele are already here,' she said, averting her face so that he would not be able to read her eyes. 'They rode in from Rouen just before vespers. Neither of them mentioned anything about grave news.'

'No, they would have departed the city before Duke William arrived.'

'It concerns the Duke?'

They climbed the stairs of the motte slope together. Mauger's breathing grew laboured beneath the weight of his mail and Julitta had to slow for him. At the top of the steps, he paused to regain his wind, one hand pressed to the stitch in his side.

'The Duke is dying,' he panted. 'We went for the throat of the French, attacked Le Mans and set fire to it. His stallion, the chestnut your father gave him last year, it stepped on a burning ember and shied. The Duke was thrown upon his saddle pommel and it has torn him somewhere inside — mortally torn him. Messengers have gone out. All the tenants-in-chief who are able, are summoned to Rouen to hear his dying wishes for his lands.' He removed his hand from his side and straightening, walked slowly towards the hall.

Julitta now hastened before him and chivvied the servants to bring food for the returning men. Fires were stirred to life, and people poked to wakefulness. Julitta threw herself wholeheartedly into the duties of chatelaine, hiding her anxiety within her attention to domestic detail.

Mauger eyed her bustle with pride. Her behaviour these days was all of his doing. He had been right when he told Rolf that all she needed was a household of her own and the guiding hand of a firm husband. And yet the pride was mixed with a certain amount of doubt. She was a little too meticulous in her observations of duty, and he was not sure whether it was deference or fear that caused her to keep her lids lowered and avoid his gaze.

'That is my reason for appearing so suddenly at Brize's gates,' he said as she helped him remove his armour. 'But you have still not told me yours.'

She had fine, milky skin that coloured easily. Even though the solar was only illuminated by candlelight now, he could tell that she was blushing. Her lower lip chewed from side to side and she quickly turned away from him to set his discarded garments upon coffer.

'You said there was a simple explanation,' he said, watching her closely. 'Perhaps it is as simple as Benedict de Remy.'

He saw her stiffen for an instant before she turned round. This time, although her colour was high, she looked him straight in the eyes. 'Gisele and Benedict did not ride in here until sunset. I came to Brize because Lady Arlette had need of me. That is the truth, and you may ask anyone to confirm what I say.'

Mauger eyed her broodingly. Clad in the old, sweaty tunic he wore beneath his armour, he sat down at the solar trestle which was adorned with a spread of cold meats, a raised pie, bread, cheese and honey cakes. There was also a flagon of wine. He stabbed a sliver of meat on the point of his knife, and eyed the length of her legs beneath her garments. His loins tightened with pleasurable anticipation. Leaning over, he placed his left hand possessively on her thigh and squeezed.

'I hated every moment of soldiering in the Duke's army,' he declared. 'Jesu, I almost went mad of a night thinking of you alone at Fauville. You were alone, weren't you?'

Julitta looked down at the trestle, at his hand upon her thigh. 'Yes, Mauger, I was alone.'

He reached to the flagon, filled his cup and drank. 'But wishing you were not,' he said, and kneaded her thigh. She blushed again. Smiling, Mauger drained the cup, then drew her towards him. 'Show me,' he said huskily, 'show me how much you missed me, and I will show you how much I missed you.'

'Here? In the solar?' Her eyes darted. 'Someone might disturb us.'

'Let them. We are husband and wife.'

'But…'

Mauger's expression was tense with desire. 'I laid not so much as a finger on the whores of the Duke's army camp,' he said through clenched teeth. 'I haven't had a woman since I left you. We are alone, and you'll not deny me. Do as you are bidden.'

With shaking hands Julitta reached to the neck fastening of her tunic. Mauger watched her fumble. She looked as if she might cry. He thought that either he had done an excellent job of teaching her modesty, or that she did not want to lie with him, and because the latter was damaging to the image he had of himself, he chose the former.

'Come, come,' he cajoled. 'Pretend that we are at home, that this is our bedchamber. Leave that.' Pushing her fingers away from the clasp, he laid her down on the solar floor with its thick covering of straw, and raising her skirts, mounted her. Julitta gasped as his weight covered her. Mauger groped within his braies and his erect organ sprang free, purple and bursting. Once, twice, he jabbed at her, and then he thrust home, full and strong. She was ready for him, he could feel by her moist-ness that she was. Mauger closed his eyes and savoured. Two weeks had seemed an eternity. He held onto the exquisite sensations burning in his groin. Two hard thrusts and he would be home, but he wanted to prolong the agonising pleasure, and so he checked himself, holding his breath and moving just the barest fraction. Lifting himself a little, he was able to fondle Julitta's breasts. He almost wished that he had let her undress so that he could caress them unhindered. Beneath the slow rubbing of his palm, he felt her nipple bud and harden and heard her breathing quicken. Usually she was passive, as befitted a dutiful wife, but tonight he felt a change in her, as if she had caught the scent of his own desire.

Mauger had found his rhythm now, a gentle rocking that kept him on a plateau beneath the pinnacle and allowed him to explore his wife's body. Now and again she whimpered softly. Her eyes were closed, and there was a slight frown marking the smoothness of her brow. Her hips began to rise and fall against his, urging him to more vigorous motion.

Had Mauger but known it, he was only completing what Benedict had started in the rose garden. Julitta's earlier arousal had left her body receptive to Mauger's intrusion. And Mauger himself, by exerting more control than usual, had brought her to fever pitch.

Her hands clenched upon his spine, and her legs parted further. The whimpers rose in volume and became a drawn-out cry. Unable to resist any more, Mauger seized her buttocks and plunged, his body shuddering in the throes of climax.

He was still pushing lazily in and out, responding to the twinges of aftermath when Benedict walked into the solar. The young man stopped dead and for a shocked moment stared at the two of them. Mauger did not rise off Julitta, or try to conceal himself. Instead he smiled at Benedict with triumph in his eyes. Julitta, her eyes still closed, made a soft sound and rotated her hips, seeking further pleasure. Benedict whitened. Without a word, he turned on his heels and left.

Julitta's lids fluttered as she felt the swirl of cold air from the disturbed curtain.

'It's all right,' Mauger said, 'nought but a draught.' Then he gave a rich, self-satisfied chuckle, and pinched her thigh. 'I see indeed how much you have missed me.' He withdrew from her, and did not turn away as he usually did to tuck himself back inside his braies. Mauger's sexual confidence had increased by leaps and bounds during the last quarter candle. The look upon Benedict's face had been the gilding on the moment though.

Julitta stood up and shook down her rumpled, straw-decked skirts. Her legs felt shaky; her woman's parts still quivered and pulsed. She had closed her eyes and imagined that she was still in the garden with Benedict; that the floor was made of crushed herbs, not straw and that the body to which she was joined, owned a slender, wiry strength, instead of a stocky bullishness. Indeed, she had almost sobbed Benedict's name aloud as Mauger brought her with him to the moment of supreme pleasure. It was the first time he had ever done so. She thought she knew the reasons, and yet she was disturbed by the very sensuality of her own nature. Perhaps any man would suffice to satisfy her if she just imagined him wearing Benedict's face. She just wanted to be left alone, and was too relieved to be resentful when Mauger told her to go and join the other women while he attended to 'men's' business.

'Were you looking for me a moment ago?' Mauger asked innocently as he joined Benedict before the fire in the hall. He chuckled. 'You must forgive us. Julitta was as eager to greet me fittingly as I was to greet her. Time apart whets the appetite.'