A Moment in Time

by Bertrice Small

  "Aye, you nosy old witch," he told her in response to her sly unasked question. "I'm taking this girl for my woman. Does that tell you what you want to know?" He chuckled.

  "And about time too, my lord," she snapped pertly back at him, and then she eyed his naked figure boldly. "Yer still a young man, my lord. You should have your own woman and not have to go about tumbling serfs beneath the hedges."

  "Is there nothing that goes on at Aelfdene that you do not know about, Ealdraed?" he demanded in mock outrage.

  The elderly lady cackled merrily. "I do not think so, my lord. I do not think so," she told him. "What else is there for a woman of my many years to do but put her nose in everyone else's business?" She gathered up his clothes and began to fold them. "There is water in the basin, my lord."

  He quickly washed his hands and splashed the water upon his face, brushing the droplets from his beard. "Good night, Ealdraed," he called, hearing her footsteps as she hobbled down the stairs. Then, turning, he walked across the room and climbed into his bed space.

  Wynne lay as far away from him as she could, her back to him, next to the wall. He could tell from her breathing that she was not asleep though she attempted to feign it. He held the coverlet back admiring the graceful line of her back as it moved downward into her prettily rounded buttocks. She shivered suddenly and, softly chiding himself for his thoughtlessness, he drew the coverlet over them both.

  "You are not asleep," he said.

  "No, I am not," she answered honestly.

  He moved himself next to her, rolling onto his side, reaching out to draw her into the curve of his body. His big hands cupped her breasts in a tender embrace. "Tell me," he said quietly. "You are not slave born. I would know who you are and how you came to me."

  Wynne told him. She didn't know what else to do, even though she was uncomfortable in her present position. Eadwine Aethelhard seemed a kind man. When she had finished, she said, "Will you return me to my husband, my lord?"

  "No," he told her, and when she stiffened in his arms, he continued, "this is the way of the world, Wynne. There are always captives who are sold into slavery. Perhaps the story you have told me is entirely true and perhaps it is not. I cannot trek you across the countryside ascertaining the truth of the matter. You have been sold to me as a slave, and I have paid for your purchase. You will be safe with me, Wynne, and your child too. I have not taken a woman since my wife's death. You will have a place of honor in my household, and if after you have borne the child you carry you give me a child, so much the better. I should not be unhappy to have another child."

  "You cannot mean to couple with me," she said, shocked.

  "Do you dislike the act then?" he asked gently.

  "No," she replied, "but I am a married woman!"

  "No longer," he answered. "Whatever you once were, you are no longer, Wynne. You are my wild Welsh girl, and I mean to love you. What fine breasts you have," he noted, and he fondled them.

  With an agility that surprised even herself, Wynne squirmed about so that she was facing him. "Eadwine Aethelhard," she began, "if I must be your slave, I will be your slave. I will do your bidding in all things, but please, I beg of you, do not force me to couple with you. There must be other slave women and serf girls who would be honored by your attentions, but I am a married woman."

  "Slave women do not wed," he said patiently. "You are my slave, Wynne, and you must accept it. A woman with child should not fret herself so as you are doing."

  "I will run away," she said defiantly.

  "You will not be allowed the opportunity," he said with a small chuckle.

  "I will find the right moment," she persisted.

  "Having found you, my wild Welsh girl, I will never let you go," Eadwine Aethelhard told her. Then he leaned forward and kissed her.

  She realized his intent just a fraction of a second too late. His mouth closed over hers warmly, pressing firmly, gently coaxing a response from her though she strove to deny that impression. How could she feel anything toward this Anglo-Saxon when she loved Madoc? Madoc. Why could she not reach out to him? During the weeks she had traveled from her home over the mountains and the hills into England, she had not once seen a raven, let alone old Dhu. Did he really believe her dead?

  Eadwine Aethelhard sensed her sudden distance from him. He pressed the woman in his arms back into the mattress and allowed his passions somewhat freer rein. This girl set his blood to boiling as no woman ever had. Not even his late wife, he thought guiltily. He knew as he kissed her that he wanted far more from Wynne than she was able to give him at this moment in time, but eventually she would give him everything he desired from her. For now, however, he must impress upon her the need for change, because whatever her life had been, it was now changed. In order to be happy she must adjust to that change. He wanted her to be happy.

  She was not made of stone, Wynne thought, shamed as his lips traced a trail of kisses across her face and down the straining column of her throat. "Don't, " she pleaded with him, and she shivered. "Please don't."

  "Your skin is so fine," he murmured against the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck. "It is like silk cloth." He tasted the flesh he praised with his tongue and his lips. "You smell of fresh air and the sun, my wild Welsh girl."

  She wanted to fight him, but she feared his reaction should she seriously defy him. She had her child to consider. She had heard of warriors like this one going berserk in the heat of battle, and this really was a battle between them. As his hot kisses and his sensual caresses increased in ardor, Wynne was suddenly very aware of his big naked body pressing against her nude form. She had been so concerned with trying to divert him from his intentions, she hadn't even considered their mutual state. Now she was very aware of it and increasingly mindful of her own rising passions.

  She had never expected to feel passion for any man other than Madoc, but she knew from her grandmother and from the women's chatter she had overheard in her childhood at Gwernach that such a passion was possible. A woman's body was a delicate and frail thing. It could be played upon like a lute, and in the hands of a skillful lover, it would respond. There was no doubt in her mind that Eadwine Aethelhard was just such a talented lover. If her heart and mind could not respond to him, her body surely could.

  "My babe," she protested softly, hoping against hope to elude him.

  His big hand delicately caressed the gentle, barely discernable mound of her belly, which was only beginning to swell with her child. "You are still able," he said softly, "and I will not hurt either you or your son." The hand slipped lower and pushed between her tightly clenched thighs.

  "H-How can you be certain I carry a son?" she asked, and felt his fingers exploring the wetness of her. Her cheeks grew warm with her embarrassment.

  "Because a woman like you would sire a son first," he said, and then he kissed her once more.

  Her lips parted slightly beneath his. She simply couldn't help it. He was arousing her passions in a most masterful fashion. She felt his tongue move into her mouth and his breath was sweet. Finding her tongue, he caressed it adroitly, and Wynne could not contain the little moan that welled up in the back of her throat. The taut nipples of her breasts were tingling painfully; and all the while his fingers continued to play with the sentient flesh between her thighs. The heat of her desire was almost suffocating her, and she pulled her head away from his, gasping for breath.

  "Look at me," he commanded her.

  Wynne raised her eyes to him, surprised that in such an intense juxtaposition she should feel shy of this man with whom she was so intimately entwined. The pink in her cheeks, however, entranced him greatly. "Many men," he said softly, "will take a woman with no care for her own pleasure. I have found greater pleasure, however, in the knowledge that my lover is as well satisfied as I am. I know you fear for the child, Wynne. I am a large man and I could crush so delicate a creature as yourself if we did not take a care. I do not want you to be afraid." Then to her great surprise h
e turned her over onto her stomach and continued, "Draw your legs up, Wynne, and trust that I will not hurt you."

  To her own surprise, she obeyed him, silently shocked by knowing that she wanted him. His clever ministrations had seen to her full arousal, and she shuddered as she felt his hands closed firmly over her hips. She bit back a cry as he carefully slipped between her thighs, and her back arched slightly as, finding her woman's passage, he pressed his manhood home, sliding deep into the dark warmth of her. She felt engorged by him as he delved and probed into the secret depths of her. Her face was hot with her shame as she felt the throb of his male organ, and then he began to move upon her; his fingers marking her white skin as he held her tightly in his grasp; his great lance thrusting and withdrawing, thrusting and withdrawing, until she could no longer contain her cries, and her own body plunged up and back with frantic impetus to meet his downward drive. Her head whirled in confusion at this assault upon her most tender senses. She tried desperately to block his final victory over her, but she could not stem the tide of pleasure that was beginning to wash over her.

  He was groaning with intensity. The sound of a man close to his own crisis and well-pleased with his efforts, and yet he held back. She could feel it and realized that he needed the knowledge of her own pleasure to release his own satisfied passions.

  "No! No!" she sobbed.

  "Yes!" he countered fiercely and ground into her, immersing himself in her sweet flesh. "Yesss, my wild Welsh girl!" he shouted, triumphant as her despairing cry of defeat filled his ears, and he poured his hot love juices into her eager sheath.

  Wynne burst into tears and found herself swiftly turned about and cradled in Eadwine Aethelhard's strong arms. "There, my sweeting," he crooned low to her. "There, my wild Welsh girl. Now you know to whom you belong. Do not weep, Wynne. Do not weep!"

  But she could not stop at first. "I… I… I want to go home!" she sobbed.

  "You are home, my sweeting, and I will keep you safe so that you need never be frightened or in danger again. This Madoc did not care for you well," the thegn said, and there was disapproval in his voice. "I will allow no harm to come to you, Wynne. You and your child will be safe with me." His blue eyes looked down upon her, and she saw the determination in them to do precisely what he said he would do. This was a strong man.

  "My babe!" she said, and her hands flew to her belly.

  "He is safe," Eadwine said with assurance. "In another few weeks I must leave you in peace for the child's sake, but for a short time we may enjoy one another." He caressed her dark hair. "You have hair the color of a raven's wing," he said. "It is so different from our yellow-haired Saxon women." Then he smiled down at her arid she saw that his teeth were quite good. He was a handsome man.

  "You are not a bad man, I think," Wynne told him.

  The smile broadened. "No," he answered her. "I am not a bad man."

  "You are a determined man, however," she said, and he chuckled. "I am a determined woman," Wynne told him.

  "Then we are most admirably suited to one another, aren't we, my wild Welsh girl?" He kissed her mouth with a hard, quick kiss. "You make me feel like a stripling again, Wynne. I want to begin anew! I am sick unto death of my old life and all that comes with it. I want a new life, and I want you to be the centerpiece of that new life."

  "What of your family?" she asked him. "Can you so easily cast them off, for that is, I suspect, what you desire to do."

  "Caddaric and his women," grumbled the thegn. "Pah! They make me sick! My eldest son is a good fighter but a bad man, and I do not know how he got that way except perhaps my late wife, God assoil her soul, was too soft with him. Still, Mildraed was a good woman, and I cannot hold her responsible for the lad. My grandfather was very much like Caddaric. A hard, cruel man. Perhaps it is just as well he can whelp no pups."

  "And Baldhere, my lord?" Wynne inquired.

  "He will inherit his father-in-law's estates, although Aeldra casts eyes upon Aelfdene as well. Baldhere's wife is a greedy woman. How it would please me to get a son on you, my wild Welsh girl! A son of your body could inherit if I so desired it," Eadwine Aethelhard said. "Such a decision on my part could cause Caddaric to suffocate on his own choler, although Baldhere could find the entire thing amusing. He is basically a simple man with little ambition, although, like his elder brother, he too is a good soldier. He became one in order to survive his childhood with Caddaric." Eadwine chuckled.

  Wynne giggled. She simply could not help it.

  "Now there's a nice sound," the thegn said.

  "It does not mean that I forgive you for forcing me," Wynne told him. "How could you? We don't even know one another."

  Eadwine's eyes grew serious. "I wanted you," he said. "From the moment I set eyes on you, I wanted you. For now, I know that your heart and your mind resist me, Wynne. Your lovely, ripening body, however, does not. That will not always be enough for me, my sweeting, but for now I am satisfied. We will come to care for one another as the months pass, I promise you. And after you have borne your child, I will take you for my wife and free you from your slavery."

  Wynne shook her head sadly. "As long as Madoc of Powys lives, Eadwine Aethelhard, I can never be your wife, for I am his wife. This is a Christian land, my lord, and your sons have married their wives in the Holy Church despite the lesser women that they keep in the manner of the old ways. I cannot in good conscience wed anyone, for I am already wed. I have been kidnapped from my husband and my home, to be sold into slavery, but that cannot change the fact that I am a married woman. You may take my body, and you may arouse my passions, but I am still Madoc's wife."

  "Yet he thinks you dead, you tell me," Eadwine countered.

  "No, Brys of Cai has conspired to make Madoc believe that I am dead, but Madoc loves me. We are bound together through time and space. He will know that I yet live. He will seek me and our child out, and eventually he will find us," Wynne told the thegn in a firm and determined voice.

  "He will never find you, my wild Welsh girl. You delude yourself if you believe that he senses you live," Eadwine told her. "If it comforts you to believe that now, then believe it; but in the end you will come to realize that I am right. Your prince will grieve greatly for you. That I understand, but he will eventually take another woman to wife, for he dare not allow his ancient line to die out lest the ghosts of his illustrious ancestors rise up and curse him. You are lost to Madoc of Powys, and he is lost to you forever."

  "If it comforts you to believe that, Eadwine Aethelhard," Wynne replied, "then believe it, but in the end you will see that I am right."

  He fell asleep quickly, his arm possessively about her. Wynne, however, despite her long and tiring day, lay awake. She was more than well aware of how fortunate she was in having been purchased by Eadwine Aethelhard. Another man would certainly have been less kind. A slave. No, whatever her legal position was in this land, she was not a slave in either her mind or her heart. She did not intend behaving like one either, or allowing anyone to make her feel less than that which she had always been. She was Wynne of Gwernach, wife to Madoc of Powys. She was a freeborn woman, and she would behave as one no matter her position in this household.

  Time. She needed time to assess her surroundings. To discover just where she was and how she might escape back to her own land. It was already November, and the winter would be upon them very soon. Did she have time to make her way home now, or should she wait until spring? But come the spring, her child would be born. It would be harder to travel with a baby than to travel with the baby unborn. Unborn, the child was safely sheltered within her body. She did not know what to do. For the first time in her life she was faced with a situation to which there seemed to be no right answer.

  Sleep. She needed to sleep. Her exhaustion was making her fearful and indecisive. These were qualities she dare not indulge if she was to survive; if her child was to survive. Madoc! Her heart called out to him in the silence of the night. Madoc! Why could he not hear her? They ha
d loved one another from the first moment of their first meeting somewhere back in the dim mists of another time and place. He had pursued her through the other times and places that had followed in order to gain her forgiveness, to regain her love. He had both those things now, but fate had separated them once more. Still she struggled to reach out to him. Why was he not reaching out to her? He could not believe her dead! No matter what Brys of Cai had plotted and planned! No matter what Eadwine Aethelhard had said. Madoc could not believe her dead!

  Could he? And as if in answer to her question, Wynne felt her child moving within her for the first time. No, little one, she thought, her graceful hands protectively cupping her belly. Your father does not believe us dead. He will find us one day. He will!

  Chapter 12

  When Ealdraed woke her the following morning, it was, to Wynne's embarrassment, well past sunrise. "The lord wanted you to be well-rested," the old woman assured her. "I was told to leave you until now." She helped Wynne to wash and dress, giving her a dark green tunic dress to wear over her lavender under tunic. "The lord said you were to have it. It belonged to his late wife," Ealdraed said, and then took her downstairs into the hall.

  There was no one at the high board when Wynne calmly seated herself to the left of the thegn's place.

  "Yer a bold wench for a slave," Ealdraed noted.

  "I am not a slave," Wynne said firmly, "though I have been stolen from my home and forced into this servitude. I will not behave as a slave."

  Ealdraed cackled and hurried off, to return shortly with a trencher of freshly baked bread filled with a steaming barley cereal and a goblet of brown ale. "Eat," she said. "The lord has told me I am to show you Aelfdene and then set you to light tasks."

  Light tasks? Wynne almost giggled, but she did not wish to hurt Ealdraed's feelings. Instead she ate her meal, thinking as she did that the cereal lacked flavor and the bread was tough. The ale, however, was excellent. When she had finished, she followed Ealdraed from the hall and out into the courtyard of Aelfdene.