her skin with his open mouth, and the warm silence of the room combined with his tender attentions convinced Simone that Didier had politely left. She placed her hands on the warm, smooth skin of Nicholas’s shoulders and breathed a delighted sigh at the contact. She had never been touched so intimately, and the baron was nudging her covering away…
“In truth, he has hair everywhere.” The awed statement came this time from somewhere over Simone’s head.
Simone squeaked and stepped away from Nicholas, hitching the fur around her. Her gaze flew upward and she spied Didier lounging on his stomach atop one of the canopy’s wide beams. His chin rested in both hands, and he peered down curiously.
Nicholas blew out a frustrated breath. “Simone, this cannot continue. I understand your—”
“Lord Nicholas, a moment, I pray,” she interrupted. “I have need of a bit of privacy.” His frown clearly displayed his annoyance, and Simone’s mind worked frantically to devise an excuse. She spied the chamber pot resting discreetly in one corner and glanced at it pointedly. “Please?”
Nicholas sighed. “Simone, we are married now. There is no need for—” Married or nay, he was mistaken if he thought to ever witness her using that base convenience. The horrified look on her face must have convinced him to humor her. “Very well. I shall wait just beyond the door.” He rose and moved around the bed, where he scooped his discarded chausses from the floor.
Simone looked away as he adjusted himself to put them on. He did not look happy in the least. “My thanks,” she called after him as the door slammed.
She spun to glare up at the boy now perched atop the canopy, his legs dangling below him. “Didier du Roche, get yourself down from there this instant!”
Didier reappeared in a blink, sitting cross-legged in the center of the rumpled bedclothes, his look of fascination making him wide eyed.
“Sister, mayhap the baron is half beast,” he ventured in an excited whisper. “There are such things, you know—half beast, half man. His staff looked to be as long as my—”
“Nay!” Simone held out a hand and shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed briefly. When she opened them again, Didier was looking at her with an offended frown. “You cannot be here at the moment, chéri. This night is proving difficult enough without your spying.”
“Where would you have me go?” the boy demanded, and then sat taller. “And you are upset. I want to stay and protect you in case the baron truly is half beast. What if he tries to eat you?”
Simone sighed. “’Tis very thoughtful of you, Didier, but I do not require protection from Lord Nicholas. The time we will spend together—as a husband and a wife—is very special and must be private.”
“I vow I won’t utter another word,” he promised.
“Simone?” Nicholas’s muffled voice called through the door. “Are you nigh ready?”
“A moment longer, my lord!” Simone turned back to Didier, frantic to convince him. “You cannot be here, little one. Please, try to understand.”
“I understand that you prefer the baron’s company to mine.” Didier’s face drew into a pout. “Why can I not stay?”
“’Tis unseemly for you to witness—”
“I won’t look, then. Whatever it is, I’ll avert my eyes.”
“Nay, Didier! You must leave before—”
“Simone,” Nicholas called. “I’m coming in, now.”
Simone clasped her hands together before her breasts, beseeching Didier. “Please, ma cher?”
Didier stretched out on his back and interlaced his fingers behind his head just as Simone heard the chamber door creak open. She spun to face Nicholas as he entered, a wary frown on his face.
He glanced about the room before closing the door and locking it behind him. “Were you speaking to someone?”
Simone forced a smile to her wooden lips. “Nay, my lord—only myself.” She cringed inwardly. Talking to oneself was not exactly indicative of sanity. Brainless twit…
The air in the chamber was becoming significantly more chilled, and Simone glanced at the bed. Didier glared at the baron.
Nicholas was silent for a moment, studying her with his hands on his narrow hips. She saw him give a shudder before he turned to the hearth.
“It grows cool, Lady Simone,” he said, stooping to feed the fire. “Let us retire to the bed and seek some warmth. I’ve grown weary of chasing you about the chamber.”
Simone looked to Didier, who was grinning broadly and patting the mattress at his side with one small hand. “Come, then—do as your husband commands.”
Get out, she mouthed to him, but he merely wrinkled his stubby nose and shook his head.
Nicholas rose from the now blazing fire and rubbed his arms. He seemed a bit surprised that Simone still stood at the bedside. He slowly made his way toward her, his hands dropping to the ties at his waist.
“My lord,” Simone stuttered, pulling her fur higher around her breasts and searching her mind for any excuse for Nicholas to remain clothed. “Perhaps we could talk for a bit—become better acquainted with each other?” She smiled brightly. “You could tell me about your home!”
His chausses were nearly undone as he reached her. “Let us not play games, Simone,” he said, not unkindly. “’Tis no secret that we hold no great affection for each other and ’twill do us no good to attempt to induce such feelings now. Let us be satisfied with our physical attraction and perhaps, one day, friendship will follow.”
Any hint of passion Simone had earlier felt for Nicholas vanished completely as Didier chortled on the bed behind her. She felt her ears burning in the cold air.
“Do not remove those!” she shouted when Nicholas brought his hands to the waist of his chausses.
“Why not?” Nicholas demanded, his frustration clear in his tone. He composed himself. “Simone, I understand your fear, but you must trust that I will be as gentle with you as possible.”
Didier was laughing so hard that he fell off the far side of the bed. Simone felt sick to her stomach.
“Nicholas, you do not understand,” she whispered. “We cannot…be together at this time.”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed, and then comprehension dawned on his face. “Are you having your monthly?”
Simone’s hands flew to cover her flaming face as Didier’s head popped up over the side of the mattress.
“What’s a ‘monthly’?”
“Nay.” Simone’s voice was a muffled wail behind her palms. She dropped her hands and sighed. Her defeat was imminent.
Before her, the baron crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Then why in God’s name can I not enjoy my wife on our wedding night?”
“Oh,
