by Wendy Stone
"Lady Madelaine, I must thank you for this service. My man does not travel well and has gone to retire. Might I bother you for help with all these fastenings?” He smiled, sending a shiver down Maddie's spine. A sudden dread filled her.
She moved toward him slowly, reaching tentatively for the first fastening of his shirt. The small wooden toggle slid through her fingers and she fumbled for a moment before guiding it through its loop. The rest followed quickly and she slid the soft material from his body.
Averting her eyes, she knelt on the floor at his feet, lifting his shoe and slipping it off his foot. The other soon joined its pointy-toed mate. “Would you care for a robe, sir?” she asked softly, without looking up at him.
"No, my lady, finish. I find I grow chilled in the draftiness of this chamber.” He glanced around, his disdainful gaze resting upon the well-made furnishings as if they were less fine than his normal surroundings.
Maddie lifted her hands to the fastening on his trews, her normally nimble fingers stumbling over the ties. She gasped in shock as the sturdy fabric parted and his thick cock protruded, standing hard and proud from his body.
Instead of trying to cover himself, Geoffrey smiled down at her, his hand stroking slowly over the length of his hard member. Maddie's face blushed red to the roots of her hair and she averted her eyes, grasping the material and pulling it down and over the hard muscles of his thighs. “The water is ready, lord,” she managed to whisper.
"It is a convincing blush, Maddie,” he said, dropping all pretense of respect. “But I know of your birth and the lowly village Hawkesmoor found you in. I know of women such as you and how you use your bodies to make your way.” He laughed, stepping toward the tub and lowering himself. “Why not remove the gown, lady,” he said, turning the term of respect into a mockery. “Join me. I will show what a young cock can do for you."
Maddie stared at him in shock, her eyes wide, her body tensed. She rose, wanting nothing more than to flee this foul man and his even fouler manners. “I am no slattern, Sirrah. I share my body with none but my husband. When he hears of this...this disrespect, I am sure he shall sever the contract."
"I think not, lady,” Geoffrey laughed, leaning back against the inclined end of the tub. “He shall not find any willing to take his daughter if he refuses my suit.” He laughed again at the mutinous look on her face. “Then what shall happen to his sons when they reach the age of marriage? No member of society will touch a contract of marriage with a Hawkesmoor heir, not if they value their positions."
There was a knock and Maddie breathed a huge sigh of relief when she saw the girl at the door. “Lord Hawke bade me come find you, lady. He is in need of your attentions and asked that I finished his lordship's bath, if it pleases him."
"Thank you, Molly.” She turned to curtsey quickly at Geoffrey, her face paling as she saw his brow raise, a slow smile spreading upon his lips.
"Remember our conversation, lady,” he said softly, turning his attention upon the comely maid who approached the tub. Before she could do more than blink, he'd reached out, grabbing Molly's arm and pulling her into the water with him.
The husky sound of her laugh followed her initial shriek and Maddie knew Lord Geoffrey would be taken well in hand. She hurried out of the room and closed the wide wooden door softly behind her.
What to do? Maddie's head spun. She didn't want to believe what Lord Geoffrey had said. Could he be so highly appointed that his word would influence so many?
When she reached their chambers, she entered slowly, hearing a splash. Her head lifted, her eyes roaming the room until she saw her husband.
"Come join me, wife,” he called to her, stretching in the huge tub and holding out his hand. “You can scrub my back."
"Hawke,” she began, carefully searching out her words. “Are you sure of this bargain? Are you sure this is the best for our Rose?"
"Maddie love, Lord Geoffrey is well connected. He has the ear of the King. Our blushing Rose will go to court, where she will want for nothing. We cannot give her much better than that.” He took her hand, tugging gently. “Why all the questions, wife?"
She turned, letting him release the laces on her gown. It dropped to the floor. Her chemise fell next, leaving her bare but for her simple leather slippers. Kicking them free, she climbed the small wooden steps, her toes dipping into the water before she allowed her strong and handsome husband to draw her into the wide pool. “I wonder at his intentions, ‘tis all,” she answered as he drew her close, his skin slipping against hers.
"He is honorable, wife. You confuse me with this attitude.” He frowned then handed her the small cloth and a sliver of hand-made soap, perfumed with the clean scent of lemons. He leaned forward in the tub, so that she might move behind him. The first touch of the cloth on his back made him moan, his head over his bent knees. “Must we discuss this now? I've spoken to Rose and she seems content with the match."
"Are you content with ours?"
His head shot up and he turned, grabbing her wrist in his wide hand. “I wanted you from the first, Maddie, you know ‘tis so. Is there something amiss? Are you aware of something I should know?"
She tried to smile, staring into the dark of his eyes, shuttered by thick lashes as black as his hair. “No, my Hawke. I want for naught, but ‘tis a mother's prerogative to worry that her children will be happy and healthy, is it not?"
"So I should blame this mood upon a mother's worry?” He wrapped his arm around her still slender waist, drawing her around until she pressed up against him. His eyes studied her intently, as if trying to see inside her mind. “Is that all it is, Maddie?"
She nodded, smiling up at him, her fingers coiling in the wet length of his hair. “Foolishness, Hawke. It is just that she is the first to leave."
"'Tis not true, the boys have been fostered out and not once did you vex me with moods such as this."
"She is different,” she said, shrugging, her blue eyes not exactly meeting his. “I will be fine when all is settled, my husband. Mind not my moods."
"You are certain? You know I will listen, Maddie."
She smiled, arching her back and pressing her breasts against his hard chest, something that never failed to draw his attention. “I am,” she said, her tongue licking over her soft lips.
"Oh ho,” he chuckled. “You work now to change the subject."
"I do?” she asked, feigning surprise at his words. Pouting her full lips, she gazed up at him beneath her own rich lashes. “I wouldn't do such a thing, lord."
"Yes, you would, and without a hint of remorse,” he chuckled, his hand slipping over the front of her body. He lifted her heavy breast in his palm, his thumb rubbing over the wide tip. “I miss these since you weaned Garren,” he sighed.
"So it is your desire to fill my belly once more with your child?” She laughed, knowing her husband's love of her milk and how he craved its sweetness.
He lowered his head, nipping at the taut bud. “It is a thought,” he muttered around her flesh.
She reached between them, finding his cock hard and ready. A smile touched her lips as her sex grew wet with anticipation, her lower lips growing plump and engorging with heat. Moving closer, she wrapped her leg around his waist, aiming the huge plum-colored head into her heat. He split her flesh, filling her.
He groaned, moving into moistness wetter than water, her spongy walls gripping his cock. Her inner muscles moved over his flesh as if she clasped him in a hot, damp hand. His hands grasped her hips, grinding her onto him, amazed as always by how she took him so easily, every long hard inch.
Her moan made him smile. He loved her; he had from the first, when she'd stood so defiantly in the center of the village, her blonde hair shining in the bright light of day, her face hard as she tried to be brave. He never once regretted taking her for his bride, nor her daughter as his own.
The water sloshed around them, waving gently then more roughly as their movements grew frenzied. He thrust into her urgently,
his hands roaming over her body, kneading the flesh of her breasts, finding her mouth with his.
Her sweet cunny clamped upon his rampant cock and she gasped and moaned as he brought her readily to her pleasures. Her eyes grew heavy, her panting breaths making him smile. “'Tis too easy, love,” he growled. “You respond to my cock so lustily. Perhaps I haven't been fulfilling my husbandly duties?"
She gaped at him, for in truth Hawke was as randy after many years of marriage as he'd been from the first, seeking her out at all hours, throwing her over his shoulder to carry her away to their chamber, whiling away an afternoon in bed. The words were on her lips to accuse him of lunacy when he surprised her once more, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her easily. He stood, stepping out of the tub.
"What do you do, Hawke?"
He walked to the bed, caring little for the water that left trails on the floor, nor the sheets that grew wet as he fell to his back upon the bed. “Ride me, wench,” he ordered, slapping her lovingly on her bottom.
"You've lost your senses,” she accused, a giggle escaping her lips at the look on his face. He had the naughty smile of an incorrigible four-year-old caught stealing a bite of a treat. His eyes twinkled with green flame even as his hands grasped her hips once more, moving her over him.
"That just proves that I love you, Maddie,” he drawled softly, his voice deepening as he gazed at her. “You make me forget myself."
She laughed, leaning down and letting her hands rest on the bed as she drew her breasts across his chest, hearing him groan. He lifted his head, forcing her back to arch as he buried his face between her damp breasts. His tongue licked at the drips of water, then found her turgid nipple. He suckled upon her like a babe, though the sensation he wrought inside of her had nothing to do with the maternal.
"Perhaps you'll make me pregnant now,” she groaned, holding his head to her breast with one hand. “I think I'd like another child, Hawke."
He groaned at her words, his hips slamming her as she continued to whisper to him, promising him her breasts full of sweet milk. The thought grew in his mind, his head falling back to the pillow as his hot seed churned, spewing up through his cock in rapturous spurts, filling her cunny with his cream. Her cries urged him on, and he jerked beneath her, giving her all of himself. Finally he lay still against the bed, his chest heaving. Her head fell to his shoulder, her hair covering his face.
His hands held her close as he fought to control his breathing, stroking the softness of her back and down to her rounded bottom, squeezing those sweet cheeks fondly. “You'll be the death of me, wench,” he growled in her ear.
"Never, my love,” she sighed, lazily lifting her head to look down at him. “And if I do, I shall resurrect you with my kiss."
He chuckled, rolling her over, moving his slowly hardening cock inside of her. He flashed her that smile, the one that always let him get his way, cocking his black brow when she narrowed her eyes.
"Again?"
"While there is still life in me,” he vowed, making her giggle and then sigh.
* * * *
Rose stood outside her parents’ chamber, hand raised, indecision in her stance. Did she tell about the stranger she'd met in the stables? Seeing him outside of the gates earlier, when Lord Geoffrey's party had already been welcomed to Hawkes Landing, seemed quite strange. Shouldn't he have already been through the gates?
Her mother's sudden giggle and the deep tone of her father's voice changed her mind. She knew they would resent the interruption though neither would make it seem so. Her hand fell to her side and she retraced her steps, turning up the winding stair that led to her chamber.
She would be leaving home tomorrow. The thought struck her suddenly and pain streaked through her. She would never again walk these steps after tonight, not as a member of this household. After her wedding, she would have her own home, her own servants to manage, accounts to keep. She sat at the top of the landing, her legs suddenly giving out as she realized the difference.
She would be married. She would be married to Lord Geoffrey, with his cold eyes and indifferent attitude.
The difference in the two men she'd met tonight was night and day. Wulf was heat; intense, searing heat, frightening her with his advances even as her body craved more. She could still feel his hands upon her bottom cheeks, the way they had kneaded her body, arching her against him so that she might rub against the bulge at his groin. She knew what was there, what caused that lump that had grown and strained at his breeches. She might still be virgin, but she'd grown up with four younger brothers, helping her mother care for them.
The difference though, of her young brothers to a man of Wulf's stature was...she buried her hands in her face as heat flashed through her, leaving her body aching.
"Rose?"
She lifted her face, desperately hoping the dimness of the stairway hid the blush she knew lit her cheeks. “Is aught amiss, Challen?” The oldest of her brothers came to stand beside her.
"I was about to ask the same, sister. You seem quite flushed. Are you ill?” He turned, sinking down on the step next to her, placing his wrist against her forehead.
"I am well,” she said, slapping at his hand. “It is good to see you. I am glad you were able to take leave from Lord Damon."
"It is not every day that your sister marries, especially not to a man of Lord Geoffrey's standing and reputation."
"His reputation? What of it?” she asked, suddenly curious.
"He is a fierce warrior, sister. His prowess with the sword is well known. He shows no mercy upon the field of battle and gives no quarter.” Challen's voice seemed to grow dreamy as he thought of the man his sister was to marry. He was a knight in every sense of the word. “Lord Damon is a true knight, but I would have killed to have been fostered to Geoffrey."
Nothing he said gave the young girl succor. She wasn't worried over Geoffrey's tendencies on the field. His battle strategies and prowess with the sword or lance didn't tell her how he would be with her. “Oh."
"Oh? Is that all you can say? You are marrying a fine knight, sister. You should be proud of the honor he is bestowing upon you."
"I...I am.” She paused, but her curiosity would not be denied. “Challen, did you notice a stranger tonight, a man with blonde hair and green eyes dressed all in black?"
"Why do you ask?” he asked, suspicion in his tone.
"I took an apple to Hermes and he was in the stables. He...He talked to me, ‘tis all,” she said quickly as Challen stared at her.
"You should not have gone to the stables, not with strangers in the keep. Father would..."
"Father would have forbidden it, I know.” She rose, frustrated. “Sleep well, Challen."
He stared after her, watching as she closed the door behind her. The light of her candle faded out under the crack of her door before he rose and made his way back down the stairs and out the side door to the stables. He would see about this strange man in black himself.
* * * *
The sun rose, shining brightly as if to greet her. Rose sat in her window seat, where she'd spent most of the night. She'd tired of rolling and tossing in her bed, unable to sleep.
She'd watched as the stars moved across the night sky, her eyes dreamy as she thought of Wulf, berating herself when she'd realized what she was doing. The moon had stared back at her, the face upon its surface chiding her for self-indulgence. She was to marry a good man; she should be dreaming of him and their life together. Not a handsome blonde stranger who made her pulses leap with heat.
The sun chased the moon from the sky as puffy white clouds raced the winds across endless blue to some undetermined goal. Still she sat, dreading the day ahead.
"Good morn, my daughter,” Maddie called, entering after a quick rap of her knuckle upon the hard wood door. “'Tis a beautiful day, is it not?"
"It is, Mother.” Rose's eyes were far away.
"We must make you ready. Your intended wishes to leave soon. We have time
to prepare but one trunk. Your father and I will bring the rest of your household necessities in our baggage wain. So come, my lovely one. Let us make you even more beautiful for your intended.” She held her arms out to her daughter.
All too soon, she was dressed and her trunk packed. She wore one of the bliauts that her mother had sewn for her. Blue with a silken undertunic of the lightest purple, it made her dark curls seem even darker in the sun. The garment was studded with semi-precious gems and the undertunic shot through with silver thread, making it sparkle in the morning light. Her mother had demanded the trimmings. She announced to all that the residents of Lord Geoffrey's huge castle must not think of their new mistress as dowdy.
Nerves made Rose's cheeks pink and hid the circles under her eyes that looked like bruises. A thin cloak covered her shoulders, hiding the upper curves of her breasts, otherwise exposed by the low cut bliaut.
She heard a noise beside her. Her father strode down the steps of the keep toward her. Rose tried to smile at him, wanting desperately to leave him thinking she was happy with the match. In truth, her trepidation grew with every moment that passed.
Hawke reached her side, his hand sliding over her loose curls, a caress so familiar it brought a tear to her eye. “He will be good to you,” he said softly.
"I know,” she said, her lips trembling as she tried to smile up at him.
"I shall miss our nightly talks, daughter,” he said as he bent his head to hers, pressing a chaste kiss upon her forehead. “But I will be happy knowing you are well looked after."
"Oh Father,” she sniffed, trying to hold back the tears. She launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I will miss you, also."
"And what of me?” Maddie asked, wiping away her own tears.
"Of course, Momma,” she cried, wrapping her arm around mother's slender form.
"We shall arrive but two days after you. Geoffrey's mother and sister shall be there to greet you and take you in hand until the wedding,” Hawke said.
"We must be on our way,” Geoffrey announced coldly, walking up to the two women lost in their goodbye embrace. He reached out, wrapping his hand around Rose's arm. “Come Adaira, you shall see your mother again soon."