by Wendy Stone
A contract of marriage had been reached with a neighboring kingdom, the son a man of royalty and bearing who would make Rose his bride. A bride price had been decided upon and the date set. All that remained was for the two to meet and then the final preparations would be decided.
Geoffrey D'Arneaux was fair and stout, with brown eyes that looked disparagingly upon anything he deemed unworthy. He feigned indifference in all but the most exciting of things, waving a hand around as if offended even by the air he breathed.
But his lands were large, his coffers full to bursting and the price he promised more than enough to see Hawke's sons married with lands of their own. Rose was to be sacrificed, but Hawke would see that she was happy, for he loved his daughter and her bright ways and sweet smiles.
"Come, Mother, please. You must help me change, for I cannot meet my bridegroom in this,” Rose begged, glancing down at the plain gown. She took her mother's hand, pulling her in an attempt to hurry her along.
"Settle, daughter. Your father will hold him up in the main hall, for there are matters yet unattended. You have time. You shall not meet him until the dinner hour.” She moved a little quicker, smiling despite the dread in her heart. This contract hadn't set right with her, but Hawke would hear nothing else, happy that Rose would be close enough to visit and with such a dowry.
The high society connection would also benefit the family. Even the king had deigned to come to the wedding, a boon not often granted, busy as he was with his wars and the upstart pretender trying to claim his throne. Maddie could scare believe the honor being bestowed upon them, one unheard of for a villager's daughter.
She followed her chattering daughter, through the long hallways and up a circular stair, entering a spacious room. Brightly colored tapestries covered the walls, each telling a favorite fairytale. Lovingly sewn by Maddie's own hand, they would be taken down and sent with her daughter. When the time came, they would decorate her nursery as well. Light shone from the open windows; in front of one of the window seats, a ball of colored yarn on the floor told what Rose had been doing when she spotted the procession.
Maddie forced the flighty girl to hold still, patiently unlacing the ties that held sleeves to the bodice of her dress. Then the dress itself was unlaced, falling to the floor with a small shimmy of Rose's hips, leaving her in a delicate chemise of the softest material.
It clung to her breasts, outlining their shape, tenting slightly at the ruby points visible through the thin material. The fabric hugged her lush hips, a dark triangle of hair noticeable at the apex of Rose's thighs. She had long legs for such a tiny girl, bared by the short material of the chemise.
Despite the healthy curves, she had an air of fawn-like fragility about her. As she rushed to the rough hewn chest at the foot of her bed to pull a bright gown free, she babbled about her intended, her nervousness and fear evident.
"Hurry, mother. I must pin up my hair. Geoffrey must see me at my best.” She turned, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Will he like me, do you think?"
"He would be a blind fool not to, daughter. Now, settle. How am I supposed to do up your laces with you dancing about so?” Maddie couldn't prevent the smile that touched her lips.
"I cannot help myself, mother,” she sang, tearing away from her mother's hands to dance around the room with her dress still half laced. She stopped at the window, staring across the courtyard at the horses being unsaddled and led into the stables.
Beyond the huge wall that surrounded the castle, a small movement in the woods caught her eye. She paused, squinting to see what it was.
A man stepped from the edge of the forest, blonde hair shining brightly under the midday sun. He was tall and well built, a knightly figure in stature. Yet he was no gentleman, for he stared back at her in an unseemly fashion. She couldn't see his eyes from this distance, but she could feel them upon her person. A flush of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks and she stepped back from the window.
"Mother, who is that man?” she asked, pointing towards the edge of the woods.
Maddie stepped to the window, her eyes searching the woods. “What man, daughter? There is no one there. Are you sure your exuberance isn't causing you to imagine things?"
"He was there,” she said, rushing back to the ledge and leaning out far enough to cause her mother to gasp and grab for her waist. “He was tall, and blonde. He stared at me as no knight would dare to do, Mother."
"Well, he probably mistook you for some hoyden, dressed as you are with your hair just so. Come, daughter, we must make you presentable."
* * * *
Rose made her way down the stairs to the great hall, her sedate steps belying the rapid beating of her heart. She was about to meet her intended, the man who would be her husband, her lover. Just the thought sent a flush to grace her cheeks.
She entered the room, unaware of the stir her appearance caused amongst the visiting knights. Her hair had been braided, coiled around her head like a crown, tiny white flowers woven into the mass. The yellow of her gown complemented her perfectly, her skin and hair glowing in reflected warmth. With her hands clasped in front of her, she went to her father, bobbing a small curtsey in front of him.
"Good eve, father."
"My daughter,” Hawke said, holding his hand out and drawing her closer. “We were just discussing you. Come, join us.” He guided her to the chair next to his, between him and Lord Geoffrey. “Sir, allow me to present my daughter, Adaira Rose, though we call her Rose. Daughter, this is Lord Geoffrey D'Arneaux, our neighbor."
"Sir, ‘tis a pleasure,” Rose said softly, bowing her head and curtseying.
"Come, sit so we may eat.” Geoffrey's low voice projected boredom and he did not bother to return her greeting.
Rose looked over at him, sizing him up and finding him vastly wanting. “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, her bright mood suddenly subdued. Geoffrey stayed seated as a servant pulled her chair out, though those around him rose. His eyes glanced across her gown, grudgingly accepting the color, fit and cut. But his gaze lingered on the unfashionable tawny color of her skin and the scratch across her hand from rescuing one of the stable's kittens.
Trenchers of bread were shared between seatmates. Yesterday's leftovers, scooped out to hold choice pieces of meat and tangy cheeses. Servants carried huge platters of the stuff between the many tables. The Lord ‘s Table was graced by a tiny pot of sea salt. Salt was hard to come by, and thought a decadent treat to savor and delight.
Rose shared her trencher with their guest, her intended. She sat, hands folded meekly in her lap, watching as he liberally used the tiny pot of salt, heedless of the luxury. He rudely ate his fill, choosing the tenderest morsels for himself, with no regard to her hunger. He answered questions from her father, but spoke not at all to Rose, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
Was this the way it was to be? Would she be delegated to a corner of his hall, brought out to grace his arm or to care for his guests, sating his lusts in the dark of night? No care paid to her wishes and desires?
"You'll do, I suppose,” he said softly, leaning closer when her father answered a question from her mother, who sat on his other side. “You'll be comely enough when dressed appropriately, though I would have wished for someone a little less... ordinary.” He waved his hand negligently in her direction. “We leave in the morning. Be ready."
With that he rose, bowing low to Hawke and lifting one of Rose's hands to his lips, though they never touched her skin. “We shall be leaving early. I should like to have this trip over, Sir Hawke. Will your daughter be ready to travel in the morn?"
"We had expected a somewhat longer visit, Lord Geoffrey. At least a fortnight."
"Oh, I could not be gone that long from my lands, Sir. We shall leave on the morrow and the wedding shall be held within the week. That should give his majesty time to travel to D'Arneaux Keep.” Before Hawke could say anything else, Geoffrey bowed once more and called for his man to show him to his room.
"My lord, a bath shall be prepared for you,” Maddie said courteously, leaving the rest of her meal uneaten. “I shall attend to you myself. If my lord agrees?” she asked, staring at Hawke with a warm smile upon her pretty face.
He nodded his agreement and Maddie left the hall, calling for water to be fetched and heated, directing the copper tub to be taken to Lord Geoffrey's room. It was the position of the lady of the household to help attend a guest's bath, providing whatever succor was needed—within bounds. Maddie pulled a tiny pair of scissors from a pocket sewn in the front of her gown and used them to strip off her sleeves of the gown, folding them and handing them to her maid. Covering the rest with a simple white apron, she ran lightly up the stairs to see to the water.
Hawke watched his wife leave before turning to the daughter of his heart. “So, what think you of your bridegroom? Is he everything you wished?"
Rose glanced up at her father before once more studying her hands, lying upon her lap. “I...I'm not sure, Father. We've only met the once.” She couldn't look at him, for she had a dreadful feeling in her stomach.
"You have your entire lives to learn each other. I knew your mother but one short day before asking her to wed. Look how that has turned out.” His hand swept over the grandeur of his castle.
"Yes, Father. I am sure everything shall work out for the best. Might I be excused?” At his nod, she rose, bobbing a quick curtsey and leaving the hall, headed not for her rooms but slipping out a side door that led to the stables. On her way past the kitchens, she snuck an apple from the small basket of fruit waiting to be made into tarts for the morrow's breakfast.
Hurrying down the path, she tried to rid herself of worry. But it nagged at her like a bad tooth. She was still frowning as she entered the stables. The rich smell of horses, leather, straw and grain assaulted her nose. As always, the familiar scents lifted her spirits. She walked down the long line of stalls before reaching the very end, whistling softly. A delicate black nose poked out over the half door.
The nostrils flared and a sharp whinny pierced the air. Rose laughed, reaching out and patting the huge head of her horse as he snuffled at her hair, nipping lightly at the braids. “Hey,” she said, pushing him back. “How would you like it if I bit your hair?"
Hermes shook his noble head, almost rolling his eyes, as if in disbelief of her words. Then he reached out and gently butted her with his nose, whinnying again, demanding the treat he knew she'd brought him.
"You are spoiled, my fine, fiery steed,” she said gaily, holding the apple out to him. He lipped it off her hand like the gentlest of pets, not the dangerous animal that he was. “Did you allow Boyce to give you your brushing today, or did you chase him out of your stall once again?"
"He chased him out, my lady. He is the fiercest of horses. Are you sure you should be so close?"
Rose jumped, startled at the unexpected voice that came from the darkness of the stables. She turned, her skirts swishing through the scattered hay, her hands coming to her breasts as if to stop her heart from thundering away. “Who is there?” she called, trying to sound commanding.
"I am an admirer, lady, and no one for you to fear. My name is Wulf,” he said, coming out of the shadows towards her.
It was the man from the forest, the one who'd stared up at her with such insolent eyes. She felt her heart leap once more, her pulse racing as she took her first look at him.
His bright hair was long, curling past his shoulders, three small braids at each temple keeping it out of his eyes. It was bound back with a thin black ribbon that matched his leather jerkin and breeches, making his hair appear even more golden in contrast. His eyes were green, true as emeralds, wide set under an intelligent looking brow.
He was tall, towering over her in a way that made her step back cautiously. His build was formidable, with wide shoulders tapering to a strongly muscled abdomen and thick thighs. He stood at ease in front of her, seemingly unaware of his effect upon her.
"Are you one of Lord Geoffrey's men?” she asked, letting her hand rest against Hermes stall. The animal stirred as Wulf approached, nickering softly.
"You could say so, Lady Rose,” he answered, stepping closer to the petite beauty. “Is it safe for you to wander so closely to a knight's horse?"
"He is my horse, raised at my hand from the time he was weaned. He would no more hurt me than I would him.” She stared up at Wulf, trying to be brave against the fear tickling her senses. Had he recognized her as the woman in the window? She knew she must look quite different in the finery of a Lord's daughter, but his impudent gaze focused not on the fine clothing but on her hair and skin. “He...He is very protective of me,” she added quickly, hoping to deter him if he had thoughts of foul play.
"I shall have to remember that, my lady.” Wulf stepped to the stalls edge and held out his palm to the beast. “What is his name?"
"I named him Hermes, for he runs with the passion of the messenger god."
Wulf cocked his head to the side, studying her. Not many young girls were classically educated and she had surprised him. Then he spoke softly to the animal, stroking the noble head with his big hand. “A fine and true animal you have raised, lady. I congratulate you."
"What are you doing here in my father's stables?” she asked him suddenly.
"I saw you leave the castle. I wished to make sure you were safe and perhaps to exchange a pleasantry or two. I plot no evil deeds, Lady Rose. Maybe I just hope that you might share one of your lovely smiles with a man far from his home.” He gave her a winsome smile and she felt a stirring in her stomach, one that made her breath catch in her throat.
"Your tongue is glib, Sir Wulf. If you are a visitor to my father's keep, how is it that I did not see you during the meal? My father invites all visitors to break bread with him."
"Perhaps you had eyes for no one but your intended, lady. I saw his rudeness and deplorable lack of care for one so gentle as yourself. But perhaps you don't wish for me to mention his treatment of you.” He gazed down at her, his hand coming up to touch a small lock of hair that had escaped the braids. “It is rude of me to speak of such, if it will cause you distress."
"It was naught but our first meeting,” Rose said quickly, trying to ignore the hand that held her hair in such a gentle grasp. “He might have felt hampered by the people watching us or by my father's presence.” She turned her head so that she looked up into his face.
"Rudeness is inexcusable, no matter the place, lady. I wanted to take him to task for his abruptness and his tasteless actions.” His hand slipped from the captured lock, the back of his knuckles brushing softly against her cheek, seeming mesmerized by the satin texture of her skin. “He should be taken to task, do you not agree?"
Rose was lost. His eyes, his touch, his scent, all wrapped around her, leaving her in a fog of new emotions. She wanted to preen under the admiration and heat of his gaze, arch into the stroking of his touch. She wanted to step closer, to be swept away. She wanted to feel his kiss...
"Oh,” she gasped, her hand lifting to her mouth. The thought of his kiss, of those warm, wide lips touching her own, had jolted her from his spell. “I must go. My father will be searching for me.” But she did not back away. She remained, staring up at him.
He lowered his head slowly, using the same easy movements he had with her horse. His eyes stayed on hers until hers fluttered closed. His lips were gentle, a mere brush against hers, returning again and again until a strangled moan rose from her center and she stepped forward, his arms coming round her petite form, lifting her so that he could more easily reach her lips. The brushing turned to rubbing, then they clung as his tongue swept out, pushing past the moist softness of her lips to taste her.
His growl mixed with her gasp even as her hands rose of their own volition, sliding up the wide muscled planes of his chest and over his shoulder, one tangling instinctively in his hair. His hands moved from her back, holding her easily against him, slipping down to cup the curve o
f her bottom.
Rose felt as if the fires of Hades blazed low in her belly, an insistent heat that drove her to press closer to its source. His mouth was no longer soft, but demanding and dominant, parting her lips further as his tongue investigated. She felt him take a step, his hand coming down to curve round her thigh, pulling it up so that her leg wrapped around his waist. Only their clothing prevented his conquest of her.
"Stop,” she breathed against his mouth. “You must, please."
"Please? Yes, I want to please you,” he growled, his eyes fiery green flames as they gazed at her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “I will please you more than that lout ever could.” He buried his mouth in her neck, his lips sliding down her throat to her shoulder, suckling against her soft skin.
She groaned at the pain-pleasure of his act, his teeth nipping as his hands kneaded her bottom, tugging up her skirts to try to reach her flesh. “No,” she moaned, finally finding the strength to push against him, though it was the last thing she wanted. “No, stop."
He lifted his head, his nostrils flaring as if he scented her heat and knew that she didn't really wish to stop him. Then his eyes shuttered, turning cold and blank. He stepped back, holding her up until she caught her balance.
Rose's body was on fire for more of his kisses and caresses. Her breath hissed from her, a sob causing her breasts to heave under the low bodice of her dress. She stared up at him for one moment and then turned, running from the stables, her feet flying in her panic to be away from the source of the strange emotions flooding her body.
Wulf watched her go. With a slight smile, he lifted the tiny white flower he'd plucked from her hair, holding it to his nose before turning away.
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Chapter Two
Maddie slid her elbow into the heated water pleased with its temperature. She added a few drops of the oil Lord Geoffrey's man had haughtily informed her was necessary in his bath. The somewhat spicy scent of sandalwood filled the air. She'd barely finished when the lord himself arrived, dismissing his man with a sly look.