No Ornament

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/2298266.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Coldfire Trilogy - C. S. Friedman
Relationship: Almea Tarrant/Gerald Tarrant
Stats: Published: 2014-09-13 Words: 348

No Ornament
by Ariss_Tenoh

Summary

She continued to surprise him.

Notes

Originally posted on May 23rd 2007.

Gerald looked at his wife; she lay on her side facing him, deeply asleep. They had wedded the
previous spring. It had been a time of quiet effervescent joy. She still managed to surprise him with
word or deed even now. He recalled the first time they'd kissed.

The Crusades were spreading toward the last strongholds of the heathens in the east. As a Knight
of the Church, his presence was a necessity. It would be a good opportunity to prove himself, and
there were certain spells he wanted to try on a battlefield. His only regret was that he'd have to
postpone his wedding. Fortunately, his betrothed understood.

Gerald mounted his horse and looked around. In the courtyard, noble and common women alike
were smiling, weeping, or trying to be brave as they bid their consorts and lovers goodbye and
good luck. He'd hoped she would be here but perhaps he'd put too much faith in a woman's
temperament.

"Gerald!"
He turned and found her running toward him, a groom held her horse which was dripping with
sweat. She reached him and pulled on his sleeve. He leaned down, thinking she wanted to whisper
some loving words. Instead, he was astonished when she kissed him full on the lips in front of the
King's entire court. By some miracle of the One God he managed to retain his seat on his horse.

"Come back alive. Whether you're victorious or not. I'll be waiting," her voice trembled yet there
was no moisture in her eyes. Having said that, she turned away from him and went seeking her
horse. Clearly intending to leave immediately.

Gerald Tarrant found himself touching his lips with his gloved hand. That had been their first kiss.
He had not wanted to sully their courtship with anything remotely inappropriate, yet he should
have known the woman he intended to marry was no ornament to be dangled on any man's arm.
Not even his.

The Neocount brushed his wife's hair and ran the back of his hand across her cheek. No, Almea
was no ornament.

~ End ~

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