Free The Blacksmith's Wife by Elisabeth Hobbes Page B

her skirts, pulling at the cloth as if they would begin undressing her right there. Laughing faces leered at her as for one terrible moment she became the centre of a circle of dancers before a pair of strong arms gripped her and she was clasped against someone’s chest. She tried to pull free but a soothing voice hushed her, brushing her hair from her face.
    ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen and ladies, but there will be no bedding,’ Hal said.
    Joanna gave a gasp of relief. He smiled down at her with eyes full of intent that caused a shiver to race along her spine.
    ‘My wife is my own tonight,’ he said quiet enough for only her to hear.
    Joanna leaned against Hal weakly to catch her breath and felt his arms tighten reassuringly around her. Her heart thumped as he led her through the last steps of the dance and back to the table.
    ‘Thank you,’ she breathed.
    ‘I have no desire to put either of us through that humiliation,’ Hal muttered under his breath.
    * * *
    Curfew had passed long before the guests began to depart from the hall. Hal and Joanna were escorted through the streets by a crowd reluctant to see the end of the festivities. Joanna’s throat tightened at the thought that, despite Hal’s insistence, they would be accompanied into the inn and into the bedchamber itself. She need not have feared as Hal firmly bade the guests goodnight and shut the door behind him before leading Joanna up the narrow staircase to his room.
    The chamber was large, clearly the best in the inn. Lamps glowed in the corners of the room and on the table where a jug of wine also stood. A large, low settle stood in front of the fireplace that burned brightly. The bed stood against the furthest wall. Joanna tried to ignore it.
    Hal removed his cloak and took Joanna’s from her hand. He hung them on the peg behind the door, removed his outer tunic and untucked the shirt from his breeches. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his boots.
    Silently Joanna began to undress. She slipped her cotehardie off and let it fall to the floor. With her outer layer gone she became conscious of how closely her kirtle emphasised the curves of her figure. With trembling fingers she began to undo the laces at the side, but only succeeded in pulling the knot tighter until it was impossible to undo. She exhaled loudly in frustration.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ Hal asked, looking up.
    Joanna’s cheeks began to flame as she admitted her predicament. Hal grinned, his brown eyes crinkling with amusement.
    ‘Don’t laugh at me!’ Joanna cried, pulling angrily at the laces.
    Hal crossed the room in easy strides and stood before her. Joanna’s chest tightened. Shadows played across his face and torso where the light flickered. He exuded an air of unfettered masculinity that sent Joanna’s stomach lurching with alarm. Despite the roughness of Roger’s touch and kisses once they were in private, in public Roger had always appeared restrained, behaving with the decorum that etiquette had demanded. Now alone with Hal, Joanna was aware of just how different the brothers were. Facing him felt as though she had stepped from the saddle of a highly trained thoroughbred only to be confronted with an unmastered stallion.
    ‘Put your arms out to the side,’ Hal said.
    His voice was so commanding that without thought Joanna obeyed. Hal’s hands began to work at the laces. He was close enough that Joanna could feel the heat of his breath on her exposed neck causing shivers to play across her skin. Soon there would be no dress in between them and Hal’s quick, dexterous fingers would be moving across her body. Her heart pounded in her breast with a violence that caused her head to spin. She reached out a hand to the table to steady herself.
    Hal gave a small cry of triumph as he worked the lace free and Joanna felt the material of her bodice loosen. She took a deep breath of relief as the air filled her lungs. Hal stood back and held his hands