They slept soundly on the floor in a disarray of bed clothes that now smelled like Tevin.
*
The bottle prison was black but for the glow of a distant torch that filtered in through the opening in the ceiling. Charles could barely see his hand before his face, which is why he had taken to sleeping a great deal. There was nothing more to do. Moreover, sleep brought dreams, visions of Brac and he found comfort with his son. But then he would awaken, realize it had been but a dream, and close his eyes to beg for sleep once again. He had no idea how long he had been in the pit. Long enough, however, for his madness to grow.
Since the prison was so silent, the sounds of footsteps immediately roused him from his stupor. It was like hammer sounds in the deep. He leapt to his feet, unsteadily, straining to see who it was that approached from above. After a moment, he could see a face looming in the darkness but could not make out any features. His heart began to race.
“Who is it?” he demanded. “Announce yourself.”
“It is Dagan, my lord,” the knight lowered his face so that Charles could see clear his features. “I came to see how you are faring.”
Charles looked up at the knight in the hole, recognizing him as one of the knights who had imprisoned him.
“I am still in my own dungeon, fool. How would you be?”
Dagan lifted an eyebrow. “My lord, I suggested the last time I saw you that a display of good behavior could possibly see you released from your confinement.”
Charles put his hands on his hips. “Are you in charge of my dungeons now?”
“Lord Tevin has given assignments to his men. I hold the dungeons and the gatehouse.”
“Then let me out.”
“I cannot, my lord. Not without orders.”
A food basket came down to him, lowered by a rope. Charles ignored it for a few moments, thinking to make a statement, but reconsidered when he realized how hungry he was. He did not know when last he ate. He grabbed the bread and mutton and chewed noisily. The basket was reeled back up.
“Did you consider my offer?” he called up to Dagan.
The knight knelt beside the opening. “What offer is that, my lord?”
“My son’s wife for my freedom.”
Dagan’s attention lingered on the old man below. He was half-hoping to hear the question, half-hoping he would not. Truth be told, he was struggling. Dagan was an honorable knight, but he was also growing old and fewer opportunities were presenting themselves. Though the offer came from a madman, still, he could not completely discount it. He had actually allowed himself to entertain it and felt like a devil for doing so.
“I have not, my lord,” he lied.
“Why not?”
“Because it is not reasonable, nor is it possible.”
“But it is. Rochester, and my son’s widow, belongs to me. They are mine to do with as I please, and I would offer Lady Cantia to you in exchange for my freedom.”
Dagan sighed heavily. “Though your offer is generous, I cannot seriously consider it. In the first place, to release you from this prison would be in direct violation of my liege’s order. Secondly, the lady and I would have nowhere to go. I do not have property and I would surely have to take her from this place.”
“But she has property,” Charles stopped chewing when he realized he might actually be able to bargain himself from this hell. “Her father left her two manors. They would belong to you if you married her.”
“And where are these magnificent homes?”
“Gillingham is a fortified home to the west and Darland is another home a few miles to the southwest. They are wealthy holdings with grain and sheep production.”
It was odd how Charles did not sound so much like a madman at all when discussing his daughter-in-law’s holdings. Still, Dagan was not convinced. He was filled with guilt for even listening to the offer, but there was selfishness in him. He was almost forty years old and had nothing to show for it. A beautiful widow and her lands would be a small price to pay for disobeying his liege. Moreover, he could declare himself an independent lord with such wealth through marriage to Penden’s widow. These were desperate times. He had to take what he could.
“Even if I were to accept your offer, my lord, were I to release you, Lord Tevin would simply capture you again,” he said. “You could not stay here.”
“Rochester is my home,” Charles rumbled. “I am the Steward.”
“But du Reims is your liege.”
Charles tossed aside the half-eaten mutton. “Surely you know that what he has done to me is not right,” his voice was low and pleading. “The man has imprisoned me in my own dungeon so that he may steal my fortress. Do you not see this?”
“He imprisoned you because you were a danger. Your grief has made you mad.”
Charles threw down the bread and lifted his hands, like claws, into the weak light that streamed down into his cell. “There is no madness in my observations. Tell me that he and my son’s wife are not conspiring against me as we speak. Tell me that du Reims has not taken over every aspect of Rochester. He wanted to be rid of me to confiscate my holding and has used any excuse he could think of to do so. Can you not see that?”
Dagan inevitably thought of the past few days. Lord Tevin had indeed spent a good deal of time with Lady Cantia and her young son. In fact, his attention had gone beyond mere concern, some thought. There was talk. Though Dagan wanted nothing more than to refute Charles’ assertions as the ravings on an old man, he could not entirely. Some thought there was truth to what he said.
Without another word, Dagan stood up and quit the vault. Surprisingly, Charles let him go without vehement protests. He continued to stand in the weak light, listening to the footfalls until they faded completely and wondered if he would, indeed, ever find freedom from this place.
*
Faint shouts could be heard in the bailey beyond the lancet window. Tevin was enjoying the best sleep he’d had in a long time with Cantia wrapped in his arms. There was warmth and peace there, a wondrous world of satisfaction he’d never before experienced. It was enough to make him forget everything else. But the shouts eventually woke him and he sat up, his massive shoulders silhouetted against the soft moonlight. Cantia, jostled by the movement and by the fact that he had moved his big warm body, stirred.
“What is it?” she asked sleepily.
He didn’t say anything for a moment, putting his hand on her head to comfort her. “I am not sure.” He bolted up from the floor and collected his breeches. Cantia sat up, clutching the coverlet to her nude chest. She watched Tevin pull on his breeches in the darkness. Silently, he pulled on his boots and marched to the door. As she sat there in confused silence, Tevin suddenly turned around, marched back to her, bent over and kissed her gently on the lips. He kissed her again because she tasted so good. Retracing his steps, he quit the room and shut the door softly behind him.
Legs hugged up against her chest, Cantia had a smile on her face. His kiss had brought back memories of a most passionate encounter. Then her eyes moved to the bed she was unable to sleep on and inevitable thoughts of Brac came back to her. She put a timid hand on the mattress, feeling the linen beneath her fingers. Her tender thoughts of Tevin began to turn to thoughts of Brac. Lying back down on the warm bedclothes, she gazed into the darkness, torn between thoughts of two very different men.
Was she betraying Brac? The man had been in his grave a month and already she was fornicating with someone else. She wondered what Brac would say to her, or if she had died, if he would have found comfort so soon after her passing. Though she would not have wanted him to mourn the rest of his life over her, surely there was an appropriate length of mourning for one so well loved.
Perhaps what she was doing was wrong. Perhaps she was being too selfish and not giving Brac the appropriate respect. Tevin was new, exciting, kind and intelligent. But he was also her liege and had been very kind to her in her time of need. No matter that she told him the feelings she
held for him were different from those she held for Brac. The fact remained that the situation was one of convenience. He was here, he was kind to her, and in her weak state, she had responded. She was beginning to think she was a very weak and foolish woman.
More thoughts filled her head, those of longing and grief and what the future might hold. A lone tear trickled down her temple, tears for Brac, for herself, for Tevin. She should have never allowed herself the warmth of Tevin’s comfort. But she had needed it. She realized that she did not regret her actions for one moment, and perhaps that was her greatest guilt. She had wanted Tevin to touch her, to explore her, and she in turn had wanted to explore him. She did not think of Brac at all when Tevin was around. All she could think of was him.
Cantia didn’t know how long she lay there, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Tevin. She didn’t even know what time it was, though the room was a soft shade of gray so she imagined it was somewhere close to dawn. Suddenly, the door to the chamber opened and closed and she sat up quickly in time to see Tevin rounding the side of the bed.
His gaze fell on her, the nearly-black eyes intense. He was naked from the waist up and for the first time, she got a very good look at just how enormous the man’s chest and shoulders were. A soft matting of dark hair covered his chest, hair that had been fuzzy and wonderful against her skin. Gazing up at him, all of the passion and excitement from the night before washed over her and she shuddered.
“Did you discover what the herald was about?” she asked.
He nodded. “I did.”
She waited expectantly for him to continue, but he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed and looked at her. His gaze lingered and she smiled.
“Why do you stare at me?”
He lifted a dark eyebrow, a smile on the corner of his mouth. “Because you are so beautiful,” he reached out, taking a strand of her hair between his big fingers. “Honestly, Cantia, it seems that all I can do is stare at you.”
Her smile turned modest. “What is happening in the bailey?”
His eyes took on a hard cast. “Trouble, I’m afraid.”
“What trouble?”
He sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It would seem that my cousin has arrived early,” he said. “Geoff and his entourage are filling the bailey as we speak.”
Her eyes widened. “So soon?”
“I’m afraid so. Unfortunately, he’s made very good time upon the road and arrived sooner than expected.”
“But… what do we do? Do I still go to Darland?”
Tevin was silent a moment, his gaze lingering on her lovely face. “Not right now,” he said quietly. “You and Hunt will stay put. I will have Val brought up to your room. She can stay with you until I can figure out what’s to be done.”
“You intend to hide us?”
“For the time being.”
“I do not mean to cause problems, but I am not sure how long we can successfully hide Hunt,” she said. “He is a very active little boy. He will want to run and play.”
“Then we must explain to him that, for now, he cannot,” Tevin replied. “I’ll think of something to tell him. Perhaps if we make it into a game, he will willingly go along.”
“What kind of game?”
He shook his head. “I do not know. But we shall have to think of something.”
She nodded, her mind racing to encompass all of the possibilities that might coerce her son in to playing a restrictive game. But her thoughts also inevitably turned to Val, and in doing so, she spoke before she could stop herself.
“If Val stays with me, then you and I.…” she trailed off, unable to finish.
He looked at her. She looked so entirely beautiful in the early morning light. He was secretly glad that Geoff had come early, secretly glad that he would not have to send her away. He could not bear the thought of sending her away, not after last night. With his big hands, he reached out to take her face in his hands.
“Then perhaps I had better steal a kiss when I can,” he said softly, kissing her gently on the lips. When he pulled back, their eyes met and they grinned at each other. “And more.”
She smiled broadly as his mouth came down on her again, gently at first, then more insistently. He left the bed and ended up lying beside her on the floor, holding her in his arms and kissing her as if to never let her go. She was still nude, warm and cozy in the bedclothes, and in little time he pulled off his breeches and boots and joined her in that cozy warmth. His mouth moved across her shoulder, her chest, familiarizing himself with the taste of her. She most definitely had a taste, something between honey and silk. It was delicious, like food to a starving man, and he suckled deeply of her flesh.
The second time around, he was more familiar with her and it only served to intoxicate him. Her nipples were succulent and tender, the flesh of her belly delicious. He could hear Cantia’s moans of pleasure and it spurred him onward until he reached the soft mound of curls between her legs. Even then, he did not stop. He continued to taste her, to savor every movement, every flavor. She had him by the hair as he held her tender core to his mouth, her legs over his enormous shoulders and his tongue doing wicked things. When he felt her stiffen in his hands, her body convulsing, he abruptly lifted himself and drove into her, feeling her tender walls throb around his manhood, drawing him deeper and begging for his release. But he could not answer so swiftly. He thrust deeply into her, so deeply that in little time her body was convulsing again and this time, he joined her.
Tevin lay with Cantia in his arms, still embedded in her sweet body, hearing the sounds wafting up from the bailey and trying not to listen. He did not want anything to interrupt this moment because he knew, more than likely, their next chance at being together would be far in the future. With his cousin around, there was no telling what was to happen during the course of his visit. Geoff was, at best, unpredictable. He found himself wishing he could run away and take Cantia with him, someplace where no king nor queen nor cousin could find them. Someplace peaceful. He sighed heavily. He wondered if such a place really did exist. It was the first time in his life he’d ever entertained such a thought.
“What’s wrong?” Cantia’s muffled voice came to him.
He shifted slightly, gazing down into her sleepy-eyed face. “Not a thing in the world, madam. Everything is wonderful.”
“But you sighed.”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I suppose I am sighing with contentment. Or with discontentment at the thought of leaving you.”
Her head came up, mussed and lovely. “Leaving me? Where are you going?”
He gently pinched her chin. “Downstairs, to my cousin. Remember?”
She looked sheepish. “I thought you meant… well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Surely if your cousin is here, you must go and retrieve Val immediately.”
He just looked at her. “Does the thought of me leaving distress you that much?”
“Of course it does.”
His smile broadened and he kissed her again, realizing he wasn’t finished with her, and rolled her onto her back. As the sounds of the bailey below grew louder and the room brightened, he took her again, savoring every stroke, every touch. When they were finished after particularly strong and multiple releases and lay sated in one another’s arms, the sound of a young boy at the door quickly roused them.
“Mam!” Hunt was pounding on her locked door. “Mam, I’m hungry!”
Tevin sat up, pulling Cantia with him. She looked apprehensively at the door until Tevin silently encouraged her to respond.
“A moment, Hunt,” she called out. “Be patient and wait a moment.”
“You cannot go to the kitchen,” he reminded her with a whisper. “I will go and bring some food to you both.”
She nodded. “And do not forget to collect Val.”
He sighed heavily. “Madam, would that I have enjoyed my time alone with you, for I fear I shall not be able to survive until our next encounter.
The strain will be more than I can bear.”
“You will have to unless you can think of a better sleeping arrangement. We do not want an audience.”
With a grin, Tevin tossed back the bedding and Cantia stood up, a little unsteadily at first and they both laughed. Her legs were slightly sore from the strenuous morning. But in the soft glow of daylight, Tevin had a full view of her delicious body and he was not disappointed. She was soft, round, and perfect in every way. Watching her heart-shaped bottom cross the room to collect her shift had him licking his lips at the sight of her. His heart was thumping loudly against his ribs, his breathing doing strange things.
Shift in hand, Cantia wandered near the bed in preparation for dressing and he abruptly reached out, taking her by the waist with his enormous hands and shoving his face into her belly. Cantia giggled softly as he nipped at her and kissed her flesh, but her giggles soon turned to moans of pleasure when his hands moved to her buttocks and his mouth began to tease the soft mound of curls between her legs.
“Tevin,” her legs were growing weaker and she struggled to stop him. “Not now. Hunt is waiting.”
His response was to gently shove her backwards on the bed. Cantia tried to leap up again but his big hands were on her, holding her down as he wedged his head and shoulders between her legs. His tongue was exploring her intimate pink folds and she had not the strength to resist. With her shift shoved into her mouth to bite of her screams, she experienced release after release at his expert tongue.
Twice, Hunt yelled at her from the other side of the door and she breathlessly quieted him. In her lust, she remembered thinking that she was glad he was only five years old and would not wonder why his mother sounded so winded. When Tevin was done with her and she lay satisfied, boneless and limp, he ran his tongue up her belly, to her breasts, and pulled her up to sit by the arms.
Masters of Medieval Romance: Series Starters Volume 1 Page 54