I've been waiting for today, for my beloved William to return from the east. We all have, I suppose -- it matters when an heir leaves home -- but I think I missed him the most. More than his cold, dull wife. He never looked at her the way he looked at me, even though he never sought any warmth in my arms. He was too good for that, but I saw the look in his eyes the day he left. Well, today, our heroic crusader should reach home, and I know what he'll do, where he'll go, and I'll be waiting.
***
I'm right, and pleased for it. As he approaches the castle, William turns off the main track, sending his men on, telling them to pass on word he has something to do first. He certainly has, although he doesn't know what yet.
He's always loved this section of the river, but now he approaches it with a sense of almost worship.
Slowly, he removes his armour, piece by piece, until he is in only shirt and breeches, his white lacing hanging undone. My gasp at the sight gives me away, but as our eyes meet, I see my own attraction reflected back in his. They still have the spark I remember.
"Alais."
"You remember me?"
"How could any man forget?"
Oh, his words are like honey. I step forward, admiring what I see; he is battle-hardened, fit and muscle-bound, his arms stretching the seams of his shirt.
"I'm glad you're home," I say, as I reach him, making the pretence of flicking dust from his chest. "But I think you need to bathe."
He smiles, that delicious smile, and in one movement his shirt is off, lying in a heap at his feet. "Would you join me?"
"My pleasure."
"I hope mine too," he replies, as he unties his breeches, and drops them to the floor too.
He is naked before me now, and I pause for a moment to admire him further. The shoulder-length, raven-black hair, the taut chest, the scar on his left upper arm.. and a sign that he is, indeed, pleased to see me.
"Now you?"
Slowly, I untie the laces at the front of my gown, and let the material pool around my feet. I've worn no shift today. He reaches for my hands and pulls me near. For half a heartbeat, I almost freeze. Will he be gentle, a noble knight, or a rough warrior? He has been away for over a year, after all.
His kiss answers my question. Softly, a breath of a touch to begin with, his lips caress mine, teasing of what else he could be gentle against. I feel my knees weaken, as he increases the pressure, our tongues entwined, tasting each other.
Suddenly, he stops, pulls away, and for a moment, I wonder if he regrets his actions. Then his arms are around me, lifting me from my feet as he turns to the water. We're on a small sandy beach on a corner, with the water shallower here, making it easy to enter. It's why this has always been his favourite spot, and mine. We've both swum here plenty of times. I have a feeling this is going to be my most memorable visit.