Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Of course. I understand . . . my lord,” she spoke softly. He kicked off his boots next and took a step toward her. She felt like a helpless doe being stalked by a hungry wolf. And she could not run because she was in the wolf’s den.

  “If I want to purchase imported goods at a certain price, I’ll do it.” His surcoat came off next, and then his undertunic, leaving him standing there bare-chested – a glorious spectacle to her eyes which she eagerly drank in, wanting her fill.

  “Aye,” she said, her eyes trailing across his sturdy chest, settling on his erect, dark nipples. She felt his lust, and it intrigued her. She wanted to feel more. The small space between them suddenly closed as he took another step toward her, so close now that their chests almost touched. Once again she found herself backing away from him, and this time she felt the down-stuffed sleeping pallet against the back of her legs, stopping her from going further.

  “If I want to eat my main meal at a certain time, I will,” he continued. “And no one will question my choice.”

  “Of course . . . I mean of course not,” she sputtered, not certain how to answer. She wondered if he was complaining about her now, since he’d known she’d been hungry earlier when he’d decided to change the scheduled mealtime. “We could have waited until tonight,” she apologized.

  He untied his braies as well as his hose and dropped them to the ground next. Her mouth fell open as she realized she was now staring at his magnificent naked body. His chest was wide and corded with muscle, and his waist narrow, but his legs thick and long and strong. And below his waist dangled a fully erect weapon of love, so hard and straight that she couldn’t look away now if she wanted to.

  “And if I want to bed a merchant’s daughter, then no one is going to tell me otherwise.”

  “A – m – merchant’s daughter,” she repeated, feeling like she was in a trance. That was her! He was talking about coupling with her right now, and she couldn’t dare tell him otherwise after the speech he’d just given her.

  He took one more step forward, and this time his length brushed against her hand. She pulled back sharply, startled at the feel of it, and gasped.

  “Muriel, I want you,” he said in a hot, sultry whisper, reaching out and putting his hands on her shoulders. His fingers made small lazy circles over the top of her clothes. It felt so sensuous and intimate, but nothing compared to what he did next. He slowly bent forward and nibbled at her ear.

  A wave of raw desire and excitement rushed through her body, and as he kissed her neck, she threw back her head and closed her eyes. It felt so good. So right. So pleasurable that she never wanted him to stop.

  “I – want you, too,” she whispered.

  Then ever so gently he brushed his lips against hers, and together their mouths joined, forming the union of a kiss. The softness of the harsh warrior’s mouth surprised her, and she found herself wanting more. His mouth lingered, and the kiss lengthened, and when it did, she felt his expert fingers unfastening the ties of her bodice. Part of her wanted to push away from him, but another part of her wickedly wanted him to have his way with her. It was something she’d been waiting for her entire life. Not many spinsters would be able to say they’d bedded a noble. This was a true experience, and she wanted to enjoy it to the fullest.

  He slipped his tongue into her mouth the same time he slipped the shoulders of her gown off her body. Her heart raced, her body heated, and she could only imagine what it would feel like to have him inside her right now.

  He cupped her breasts in his hands right over her clothes, and if he hadn’t kissed her again and put his tongue into her mouth at the same time, she would have cried out in delight at the euphoric feeling. Never had she felt this way with the boy from town.

  “You intoxicate me like no woman ever has, and I don’t understand it at all.” He slipped his hands under her chemise and rolled her nipples with the tips of his fingers as he spoke, and she felt herself go taut. “You are like the illusive hind which every nobleman desires to bag. You are unique, and desirable, and every man’s secret dream.” She wasn’t sure she liked being compared to a hind, nor his choice of words when he said he wanted to bag her, but it seemed petty at a time like this, and she shook the thought from her head.

  His hands felt afire as they caressed the bare skin of her breasts, and she could think of nothing else.

  He was saying in his own way that he desired to make love with her, and that was more excitement than she ever thought she’d feel in this lifetime. Heat pulsed between her legs, and before she knew what he was doing, he took hold of the front of her gown, gripping it tightly in his clenched fists. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or just lustful. Then, like an animal, he ripped the cloth open along with her shift, exposing her bare breasts to his hungry green eyes.

  “Gorgeous, but how do they taste?” His head dropped down and his tongue flicked out, bringing her nipples to harder peaks, tho she didn’t think it was possible. He opened his mouth wider and suckled at her breasts hungrily, about driving her out of her mind.

  “Ohhh,” she moaned, grabbing onto his hair and arching her back, pushing herself further into his mouth.

  “You want this too, Muriel, don’t you? Tell me the truth.”

  His hands were gripping the bottom of her gown now, pulling it up higher and higher, ever so slowly as he spoke. The anticipation of his next action had her teetering on the edge. Then she felt the heat of his hand at the top of her thigh and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Yesssss,” she whispered, her eyes still closed, as his hand slowly slid higher. “I . . . do want this,” she admitted, knowing that it would do no good in the midst of the situation to lie, nor to deny a man who was a noble right now.

  Then he obviously realized she wore no braies under her gown, and his hands cupped her bare buttocks cheeks, squeezing them as if he were testing for ripe melons at the market.

  “No braies? Really?” he whispered into her ear, pushing his hardened form against the juncture of her thighs.

  “Nay,” she said, wetting her lips with her tongue. She felt her mouth go dry and she could barely find the words to answer him. “It is too easy to get raped if one were to have to lift their gown and then pull down braies to relieve themselves in a public place. It is easier and safer just to lift the skirt slightly without showing any skin.”

  “Ahh, well we don’t have that problem here,” he told her. His hand cupped her womanhood, and before she knew it, his finger had slipped between her folds and she felt him enter her body.

  She squirmed against his palm, feeling a wetness between her thighs. He pulled back a little and removed his finger, pulling her hips up against him tightly next. “You’re not a virgin,” he said, as if he had been testing the waters before he took the plunge. She knew she couldn’t fool him. She didn’t want him to stop because of it, but neither could she do anything but give him the answer he wanted right now.

  “Nay, my lord. I am not.”

  “When is the last time you laid with another man?”

  Her eyes popped open at that. Did he think she was a harlot that she’d be doing it regularly? “I’ve only coupled with a man once and it was two years ago.”

  “Good.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because.” He ripped the rest of the clothes from her body and she felt the cool air kiss her skin in a promise of what was to come. “If a child comes from this union, I need to know it is mine and not a mere stableboy’s.”

  “A ch-child?” The thought terrified her yet excited her at the same moment.

  “Are you against the possibility of this happening?”

  “I . . . I . . . nay,” she said, feeling dizzy and giddy. If the thought of having Lord Nicholas Vaughn inside her wasn’t exciting enough, the thought of possibly having his child – a noble’s baby – was enough to make her go mad with desire.

  “Take me,” she told him, reaching up and grabbing his face in her hands, kissing him deeply on the
mouth.

  “You are a little vixen aren’t you?” he said, pushing her away from him, sending her sprawling across the bed. “But I told you, no one tells me what to do.”

  She thought for a moment he was going to turn and walk away, and a sharp pain spread across her heart. She couldn’t let him leave her now – not like this. Not when she wanted him more than anything in life. And not while she was naked and so vulnerable. She desired him – she needed him, and she couldn’t let him just walk away right now. Still, she couldn’t make it sound like she was telling him what to do either.

  “Whatever you wish, my lord.” As he glanced back at her over his shoulder, she did something she never thought she’d do in this lifetime in front of a man. She wasn’t proud of it, but being desperate for what she wanted wasn’t a new game for her lately either.

  She grabbed one of her own breasts with one hand, and the other went between her thighs. Then she closed her eyes and moaned, pretending like she was pleasuring herself.

  “What are you doing?” he snapped.

  “Don’t mind me, my lord,” she said, and purposely raised the intensity of the situation by moaning louder. “Ohhhhhh, ahhhhh,” she faked her pleasure, peeking out of her half-closed eyes to see him reach down below his waist to grab his hardened form.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he said, stretching one of his large legs over her body and settling himself atop her. He positioned himself between her thighs and slowly slipped inside.

  This time her intake of breath at the size of him was real. This time her moan of passion was not faked.

  He reached over, and holding himself up on his elbows he kissed her once more as his form stretched her slightly. “Don’t think I don’t know you were faking that,” he said in a low voice. “But right now, I don’t even care.” With that he pushed his entire form into her body and she arched up off the bed at the action.

  “You like that?” he asked, and it was all she could do to nod. Her breathing labored, and as he thrust in and out vigorously like a man possessed, she found herself climbing . . . climbing higher. Then his hand was on her breast again for a second, and she felt the slight scrape of his nails over her hardened nipple. She cried out loudly this time, and when she did his thrusts became faster and faster.

  He sounded like an animal, growling at the back of his throat, and she loved every minute of it. The intense heat rose between them, and as she reached her climax, she heard him cry out as well. Then she felt something happening inside her, and the release of a liquid passion between her thighs. She knew it was the explosion of his seed as he spilled his pent-up desires, coming to his climax as well.

  He started to pull away after that, but she grabbed onto him and wrapped her legs around his hips feeling her excitement rising a second time. “Again,” she said, feeling herself starting to climb from the thought of his seed within her.

  “Muriel, it doesn’t work that way for men,” he said, but she couldn’t understand since she felt as if she could go on forever. “Again,” she said. “Please,” she begged him desperately as he pulled out from her body, and just shook his head.

  “Again,” she said with tears in her eyes, so close to completion that if she couldn’t have him she thought she’d go mad.

  “Nay, we’re done here,” he said, but she wasn’t going to let him walk away. She got to her knees and pulled him back down to the bed as he tried to stand. As he fell, she pushed him onto his back. Then she quickly straddled him and rode his leg, screaming out her passion loudly, her voice echoing off the high stone chamber walls. Then sated and spent, she collapsed atop him, and she happily felt his arms encircle her in a lover’s embrace. One of his hands pushed back a stray strand of her hair and he kissed the top of her head.

  “Are you certain you’ve only done this once before?” he asked.

  “Aye,” she said, laying her head on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart that matched her own.

  “Damn, you are a wildcat in bed. That really excites me, Muriel.” Then when she thought it was all over, he started kissing her and fondling her again. “Bid the devil, I don’t understand this . . . but I think . . . I think . . . I could do it again, too.”

  She pulled back and looked him in the eye and they both laughed. “As you wish, my lord,” was all she had to say, and with those words she held all the power over a man who said he’d never let anyone tell him what or what not to do.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Muriel awoke the next morning, she found Nicholas already gone. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, not having had such a good night’s sleep in a long time. Mayhap it was the goose-down pallet and the soft linens, or the velvet bed curtains that had made her sleep so well, but she doubted it. She knew it was from the satisfying coupling with Nicholas last night.

  She smiled and put her feet on the floor, feeling her body aching in a good way from her time with Nicholas as she stood, looking for her gown. It was lying at the foot of the bed torn to pieces. She bent down and scooped it up, and giggled as she thought about the games she’d played with the baron last night. He’d said she was a wildcat in bed, but by the looks of her torn clothes, he was the one mating like an animal, not her.

  There was a knock at the door, and she held the clothes in front of her to hide her nakedness. Her eyes darted around the room. She was in the baron’s bedchamber, and she wasn’t sure if one of his men were on the other side of the thick wood. So she didn’t answer, hoping whoever was there would just go away.

  “Muriel, are you in there?” she heard a voice from the corridor that sounded a lot like her friend, Cecily. But it couldn’t be.

  “Muriel, can we come in?” came a boy’s voice next and she realized it was her brother as well.

  “Cecily? Isaac?” she called out, trying to make heads or tails of the torn clothes so she could put them on. “Is that really you?”

  “Lord Nicholas has sent me up here with a gown for you to wear,” said Cecily. Muriel grabbed the bedcover and wrapped it around herself and ran to the door. She pulled it open to see her brother and her good friend standing there.

  “What are you two doing here?” she asked, giving them both hugs, about losing her coverlet in the process.

  “The baron sent for us early this morning,” said Isaac, repositioning his travel bag on his shoulder. “He said you wanted me here.”

  “Of course I do, Isaac. I want both of you here. But will both of you be living at the manor and working for the baron as well now?”

  “Only Isaac,” stated Cecily. “I am here just for the day.” She handed Muriel the gown. “Here, put this on.”

  “Isaac, go find something to eat in the kitchen and we’ll join you later in the great hall,” said Muriel.

  “Aye.” Isaac did as instructed, not even questioning the fact he could obviously see she’d spent the night with the baron. As soon as he left, Muriel pulled Cecily into the room and closed the door.

  “Muriel?” asked Cecily with a grin. “Did you couple with the baron?”

  “I did,” she answered with no remorse at all.

  Both the girls squealed and held hands. It was an honor to sleep with any noble, and most commoners would never have the chance to do it.

  “What was it like?” asked Cecily with wide eyes. “Was he rough or was he gentle?”

  Muriel removed the coverlet from around her and went over and quickly washed up with the basin of water across the room, while Cecily removed the tapestry from over the window, letting in the bright sunlight.

  “He . . . was both,” she said, feeling a warmth engulf her just thinking about the night they’d shared.

  “Both? How could that be?” asked her friend, going over to sit on the bed.

  “He had a gentle touch at first, but then his passion was strong and almost overwhelming. And he called me a wildcat in bed, so mayhap I was the rough one, not him.”

  They both giggled, and Muriel felt happier than she ever had in her life.
She took the gown and donned it over a chemise. It wasn’t a gown of a servant. This time it wasn’t made of coarse brown wool, but rather fine spun wool dyed a forest green. It still wasn’t as ornate as the clothes of a noble, but it was the clothing a merchant would wear instead.

  “What will you be doing for him?” Cecily grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. “Besides the obvious.”

  “Cecily, please,” said Muriel feeling very sated. “I am his Personal Clothier.”

  “Making his clothes or taking them off?”

  They both giggled again. “Wait until you see the Ladies’ Solar,” Muriel told her excitedly. “You will not believe the wealth of the baron.”

  “Then show me,” she said, getting off the bed and heading toward the door.

  “I will. But I am famished and want to eat first. I hope we didn’t miss the main meal. Let’s go find out.”

  *

  “My lord, this man is accused of running away for the third time,” said the bailiff, holding his hand out toward Henry. Nicholas just shook his head. He sat on his dais chair in the great hall with his father and brother watching at his side as he conducted his court. He’d just finished giving out sentences for some petty crimes that had been committed on the docks, as well as some from the serfs who worked his lands and hadn’t paid the proper amount of coin or livestock required in exchange. The last he had to judge was Henry.

  “Are you not treated fairly on my manor, Henry?” he asked the man.

  “My lord, you treat all your servants fairly,” he said, looking to the ground.

  “And haven’t you learned from your last two punishments that I won’t put up with this kind of behavior? This is the third offense, and you do realize a few days in the stocks will not suffice this time.”

  “I understand, my lord,” he answered.

  Nicholas saw Muriel walk into the great hall across the room with Cecily and her brother at her side. Damn, he didn’t want her here now. He’d hoped to be done with handing out his punishments before she arrived.