by Anne Herries
He lay her down on the bed and began to discard his own clothes, ripping at the fastenings in his urgency to join her. In a moment he was there beside the bed, gazing down at her, the hot passion in his eyes, feasting on the creamy perfection of her body, and she was able to let her own eyes dwell on the hard suppleness of his.
Lean and honed to supreme fitness, Stefan’s arms, chest and thighs were strongly muscled, his skin ridged in places by small scars that he had received in battle. As he lowered himself to the bed beside her, she traced one of the larger scars with the tip of her forefinger.
‘You have been hurt many times, my lord?’
‘They are nothing, Elona. When I thought you lost to me I received a far deeper wound.’
‘Forgive me…’ she began but his lips were on hers, cutting off her words. And then as his hands began to stroke and caress her, she forgot everything but the sweet sensations he was arousing in her. ‘Stefan…’
‘My lovely Elona…my wife…’
She had never felt such pleasure, never dreamed that her body could feel this way, could respond to his touch so readily. It was as if she were an instrument on which he played, making her body sing in perfect harmony. Their bodies seemed to fit together, lying side by side, his teasing lips and tongue making her writhe as the pleasure intensified to an almost unbearable pitch. If it did not end soon, she would die of it!
When he parted her thighs to allow his entry, she prepared herself for the inevitable pain she must feel, but this time Stefan did not thrust heedlessly into her. This time it was slow and easy, sensuous, her body opening in welcome to his hardness, her moistness enclosing him like a silken sheath.
She gasped with pleasure, her back arching to meet him now, yet still he held back, moving slowly and surely, bringing her with him as he climbed towards that moment of supreme ecstasy.
She cried his name aloud, her nails scoring his shoulders as she felt a spasm of something that was both pleasure and pain shoot through her. The next moment she felt the weight of his body on her and heard his deep breathing, the shudders that ran through him convulsively as she writhed beneath him, and she knew that he was as shaken by this thing that had happened between them.
‘’Tis no wonder they call it the little death,’ Stefan murmured. ‘I vow I died and woke in paradise.’
‘You must not blaspheme,’ she chided, but with a gurgle of delighted laughter for his words had echoed what was in her mind.
She expected that he would leave her as he had the first night, but instead he lay beside her, holding her close, stroking her back as if he could not bear to let her go. Was it possible that he did truly love her more than she had ever thought he would? Tears stung her eyes as she realised that she had been given so much that night, but she would not let them fall.
She felt a strange lassitude steal over her, closing her eyes as he whispered softly to her. He spoke of love, of their life together, and of the children they would have.
Elona slept. She felt at peace. Stefan spoke of love and she must believe him. She knew he wanted her, knew that their loving had given him pleasure, and that was as much as she could ask for. Perhaps he truly loved her. Only time would tell.
‘Will you take me hunting with you tomorrow?’ Elona asked as they were at supper a week later. ‘I sometimes hunted with my brother in the forest at home.’
‘If you wish it, my lady,’ Stefan said and sipped his wine, his eyes thoughtful as they dwelt on her. ‘But remember that we hunt for food and not for pleasure. I dare say your brother took you hawking, which is a very different thing.’
‘We also hunted for deer and wild boar as you do, for my father also had a concession from the King to take so many deer each year, and our forest had herds of wild boar. In truth, I do not care so much for the kill, but the chase is always exciting.’
‘Well, you need not be there at the kill,’ Stefan said. ‘Our men will see to that side of things and we may walk a little in the woods.’
The look in his eyes made her laugh, her cheeks a little pink, for she knew well enough what it meant. This past week he had come to her bed every night and she had learned to know him.
Life had become full of good things for Elona. She enjoyed the work she did, ordering her household, keeping her accounts, filling the shelves of the stillroom and visiting the villagers.
Already life had begun to return to normal there. New stone cottages were being built to replace those destroyed by the fire and a wall was being erected, with a warning bell to sound the alarm, to make it more difficult for the village to suffer a surprise attack in the future. Stefan was also training the villagers to defend themselves so that they were able to hold off an attacking force for long enough for help to reach them.
The man Ulrich had taken a wife from a village nearby, and his son had begun to learn his father’s trade. It seemed to Elona that everything was almost perfect.
‘We have only to hear that Danewold has been captured and we need fear nothing,’ she said to Stefan, as she lay in his arms that night, content from his loving. ‘It is for our people that I worry, in case he tries to harm them again. Is there nothing more that we can do to see that he is punished, my lord?’
‘Did I not tell you? He has been captured…’
‘And when was that?’ Elona raised herself on one elbow to look at him, her eyes bright with suspicion in the glow of the candle. ‘I believed he was captured all the time. You told me he was outlawed to keep me from leaving.’
‘I would have told you anything to that end,’ Stefan whispered as he pulled her down to him, so that she lay on top of him, her lips close to his as he began to kiss her. Little, teasing kisses that aroused her even though she had thought herself satiated from their last loving. ‘Shall I never have enough of you, Elona?’
‘I hope that you will not, my lord,’ she said and laughed as, greatly daring, she straddled him. Seeing what she meant to do, he laughed and lifted her, his hands about her waist, letting her ease herself on to the hard shaft of his manhood, easing her silken moistness down to its root so slowly that he cried out with pleasure. Her hair fell over his face and he twisted his fingers in the scented tresses, holding her fast as he kissed her long and hard, and then, with one surging movement, swung her over on her back and took the dominant position. She laughed up at him, her love in her eyes, surrendering to him completely as she said, ‘For I do not think I can ever have enough of you.’
‘You are my love, my heart, my life, and I should die without you,’ Stefan breathed, and Elona felt the sweetness of his words like honey. At last she believed. He loved her as much as she loved him. ‘Never forget that I adore you, Elona. If God should take me from you…’
‘Hush, my lord,’ she begged him and pressed her lips to his.
He must not tempt fate, for his words had sent a cold shiver down her spine. Her happiness had seemed so complete and now she realised that it could change in an instant, for without Stefan her life would once again be empty.
Chapter Eleven
By the morning Elona had forgotten any foolish fears she might have had the previous night. Stefan was strong and healthy, as was she, and there was no reason why they should not have a long life together.
It was a crisp winter day; the air was chill but not yet bitter, a pale sun promising to break through later, and the earth hard beneath the horses’ hooves.
‘A good day for hunting, my lord,’ Malachi the huntsman said as Stefan and Elona went out to join the small crowd of men awaiting them. ‘We should have some good sport.’
‘You have not forgot my orders?’
‘No, my lord.’
Elona caught the excitement of the men. It was a day to remember, the clean crisp air like wine on the tongue.
The dogs were baying madly, straining at the leash as the runners set off ahead. They were to hunt wild boar rather than deer that day, for Stefan’s men had already taken the permitted number of royal venison that year. Wild
boar belonged to the lord of the manor, as did the other game in his woods.
Hunting the boar was different from stag hunting, for the dogs were not unleashed, at least until the boar was wounded and cornered. Their keen scent glands were useful for picking up the scent of the dangerous beasts and their baying for flushing the boars out of the undergrowth for the bowmen to shoot.
The horsemen rode at a canter, keeping pace with the dogs and the runners who had an easy loping movement that they could keep up for hours at a time. Hunting deer was a more thrilling chase, but it was pleasant enough in the forest, and although they found no scent for quite some time, Elona was content. For herself she would not have cared if they had not put up a quarry. However, hunting for food was a necessity rather than a pastime and when the dogs started to howl and strain at the leash, she knew what to expect. Clearly they had picked up a scent.
Suddenly, a boar plunged out of the thicket and charged towards the dogs and runners. It was a massive, fearsome beast with huge, sharp tusks and red eyes.
A bowman took aim, his arrow piercing the beast at the back of its neck, but, instead of falling, it plunged back into the forest and disappeared from sight. The runners would have gone after it, but three more wild pigs had broken out of the undergrowth and the bowmen and dogs were kept busy.
‘Come, Elona,’ Stefan said as the serious business of slaughtering began. ‘We shall ride this way a little.’
She turned with him obediently, for the bloodletting held no appeal for her, though she understood that it must happen if they were not to starve that winter. Once the snows came there would be little fresh meat available and they would rely on the salted meat taken from this hunt. Such were the facts of life and a good housewife must be prepared to deal with whatever the huntsmen brought in.
‘Shall we walk a little?’ Stefan asked as they came upon a pretty glade. ‘The men do not need me and we shall not ride into the forest again until next spring, for if I am not mistaken the weather will change soon.’
‘Your weather here in England is much colder than in France. Often my father and brother were able to hunt throughout much of the winter. And that meant we had fresh meat most of the year, though we always salted several barrels just in case.’
‘You were fortunate,’ Stefan said. ‘Here the game is plentiful in spring and summer, but the last time we hunted we took only one boar and a hind. I think we have done better today. You must have brought us luck, Elona.’
She smiled as he came to help her down, his hands lingering about her waist as he gazed into her eyes, then drew her close to his heart for a moment. He kissed her, and touched her face with his fingertips.
‘I love you so much, my dearest wife.’
‘And I love you.’ She stretched up to touch her lips to his, and then as he let her go and she looked about her, she pointed to the other side of the clearing excitedly. ‘Oh, look, Stefan, are they not filbert nuts? We have stumbled upon them quite by chance. I shall pick as many as I can for they will make good eating.’
‘How will you gather them?’
‘In my wimple,’ she said. ‘Will you unpin it for me, Stefan?’
She was wearing a simple covering, which she fashioned into a small pouch to carry the nuts. Stefan followed a few steps behind her as she ran across the clearing, amused at her determination to make the most of her find. She was happily pulling the small nuts from the bush when the grunting sound alerted Stefan. Something was hidden behind those bushes next to hers.
Suddenly, the wounded boar that the bowmen had not killed broke from the undergrowth. Behind it came a bowman and a runner with his dog, but neither of them were close enough to stop the boar charging—and Elona was in its path.
Nothing was more dangerous than a wild boar when wounded, which was why the dogs were kept leashed until the animal was cornered. They had no chance against those evil tusks and Elona had even less.
Stefan was unarmed. He could do nothing except what he did, which was to thrust Elona into the bush and turn to face the charging beast. With only his bare hands, he tried to ward it off, but he was caught by those cruel tusks as they tore viciously at his thigh, his scream of pain alerting the bowmen and the runner.
The runner released his dog, and the brave creature rushed to his master’s defence, growling and attacking the boar from behind. Snarling and growling, the dog closed with the boar for a few seconds, diverting it from attacking Stefan, and as the two fought savagely, the bowman took careful aim. His arrow pierced the boar’s neck. Maddened by the fresh pain, it tossed the dog to one side, where it lay bleeding and spent, and looked for the source of new danger, and then a second bowman had found a surer mark and an arrow pierced the beast’s eye.
This time it staggered and fell, grunting and twitching until the huntsman dispatched it with his merciful knife. The wounded dog was also dispatched, for it had fought bravely but suffered grave injury and there was nothing to be done.
Elona had meantime scrambled to her feet and was bending over Stefan as he lay on the ground. The wound to his thigh was deep and bleeding profusely, his face pale as he struggled to fight the terrible faintness that threatened to rob him of his wits. He had other gashes on his hands and arms, but they were skin deep and not serious.
‘He is losing too much blood,’ the huntsman said. ‘We must tie him above the wound, my lady, to stop the flow.’
‘Stefan…’ Elona’s voice caught with tears as she saw that he was in terrible pain. ‘You foolish, foolish man…’
‘Would you have had me leave you to your fate, my love?’ Even now there was a wry smile upon his lips.
‘We must get him back to the house,’ she said to the huntsman, fighting the tears and faintness that threatened her. She must be strong for his sake! ‘That wound must be cauterised or he will die.’
Stefan’s eyes were closed. She thought he must have lost consciousness as the huntsman tied a belt tightly above the wound, cutting off the crimson flow.
‘It will hold for a while,’ Cedric told her. ‘We must do as you say, my lady, though the wound is deep.’
His face told her what he would not say. Men seldom recovered from such wounds.
‘I shall do the cauterising,’ Mary said once she had examined her master’s wound. ‘It must be done thoroughly or it will not serve.’ Her eyes met Elona’s. ‘I shall need men to hold him, for he may wake—and the shock could kill him.’
‘Stefan will not die,’ Elona said. ‘Do what you must, Mary.’ She signed to four strong men who were standing by, ready to take their places. ‘You know what to do. Hold him well, for he will fight you.’
The iron had been heated over the fire until it was red hot. Mary glanced at Elona, pausing for a moment as though she feared what she must do, and then, at a nod from her mistress, she held it against the open wound.
The stench of burning flesh was terrible, but not so fearful as Stefan’s scream of agony. He jerked violently, fighting against the unbearable agony as Mary continued to hold the iron against his flesh for what seemed an eternity. And then, mercifully, he fainted, his endurance at an end as his body gave its own response by robbing him of his senses.
‘He is merely unconscious,’ Mary said as Elona gave a sobbing cry. ‘Fear not, my lady, he lives.’
‘God be praised,’ one of the men said and another made the sign of the cross over his breast. All four of them looked sick and shocked, and as Elona dismissed them she could hear them murmuring to each other of their fears that their master would die.
‘What must we do now?’ Elona asked of her women as the men departed. It had been agony to watch Stefan’s suffering, but she would not spare herself anything. ‘Do any of you know a remedy for the pain he will feel when he comes to himself?’
Melise had a remedy for a sleeping draught, which she warned must be used sparingly; if not, the sleep it induced would be permanent. Mary had something that had helped her husband when he was in fever, though, as she r
eminded Elona, it had not saved him.
‘His life is in God’s hands,’ Elona said. ‘We can only tend him and pray that he recovers, but there are books in my lord’s special chamber—and I believe that the good Father and I might find some remedy in them that may help us.’
‘We must take turns in sitting with him,’ Mary said, ‘for he will need constant watching, and it is too much for one person alone. You have had a terrible shock, my lady. You should rest for a while.’
‘You will call me if he wakes?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Then I shall leave him to your care for the moment. I have other tasks that I must perform.’
Elona went over to the bed, bending down to kiss Stefan’s forehead as he lay with his eyes closed, his skin damp with sweat from the pain he had endured before he lost consciousness.
‘Sleep well, my beloved husband,’ she said. ‘I shall come to you soon and my thoughts are always with you.’
Elona was frowning as she left the chamber. Piers would be waiting for his orders, as would the men. She must take charge of the household now, for Stefan might lie on his sickbed for many weeks—if he ever rose from it again. Her eyes were stinging with the tears she could not afford to let fall. Weeping would not save her husband nor oversee his affairs. She had to be strong for there was no other choice.
‘My lady…’ Piers came hurrying to her as she reached the great hall, his face working with grief and anxiety. ‘What are we to do? If my lord should die…’
‘My husband will not die,’ Elona said. ‘He may be ill for a long time, Piers, but we shall nurse him and he will recover. In the meantime, you will do all that was done before. His men must train every morning as they have always done. There will be no slacking just because Stefan cannot be there to watch them. I charge you to see that everything goes on as it must.’