by R. R. Vane
Sir Lambert shook his head and now his predatory eyes glinted with sheer malice.
“You may not know, but she is a harlot.”
Tom saw the woman flinch as the knight spat the word, and he found himself recoiling from it at the same time as she did. He made his tone even firmer when he spoke.
“My lord, you are mistaken. This woman is no harlot. She is my serving woman.”
Sir Lambert widened his eyes in astonishment, but, before he could open his mouth to speak, Tom turned to talk to the woman, who was now gazing upon him with a look of astonishment of her own. He spoke sharply.
“Don’t you have business scrubbing the floors?”
It took only a moment’s hesitation, but he saw, with relief, she nodded.
“Yes, master. I’ll get to my business at once.”
“Mind that you do,” he tossed at her, making his voice dispassionate and stern.
He held Sir Lambert’s eyes as the woman retraced her steps to the house, not letting the knight follow her with his feral gaze.
“My lord, the sword?” he inquired, keeping his tone as firm as before.
Sir Lambert had no choice but to follow him inside the shop at the front of the house, where Tom had William fetch the sword for the knight to appraise and test. It was certainly a fine sword, and Tom had lovingly made it and carefully tempered its brittleness.
Sir Lambert frowned upon it, and Tom knew at once the lord was going to find fault with the sword. Of course Sir Lambert no longer cared about the sword. His thoughts must be all upon the woman he lusted after.
“Shoddy work, Master Blacksmith. Although, I’ve been told you make the finest swords in London.”
Tom shrugged with a faint smile. He cared too little for Sir Lambert’s thoughts upon him to take offense.
“I gather you do not want the sword then, my lord?” he said in an unconcerned voice.
“Of course I don’t. It’s ill-made, can’t you see?” Sir Lambert shouted and placed the sword down, and Tom knew too well the knight would demand back the coin he’d paid two weeks ago for the sword.
“Ill-made?” Tom asked in a level voice. “Perchance for you. Lord De Brunne saw it a day ago and offered me twice your price for it.”
Tom always spoke the truth, and in this case the truth was Lord Tristram de Brunne – the best swordsman at King Henry’s court – had seen Tom’s sword and taken a liking to it. He had indeed offered twice the price Lambert had paid, but Tom never went back on a bargain, so he’d declined De Brunne’s offer. But now Sir Lambert no longer wanted the sword.
“My lord, since you find my work ill-made, I’ll have your coin returned later today, when Lord De Brunne gives me the money for it. I’ll sell it to him for the same price you paid, because it would be unfair to make him pay twice the coin another knight was willing to give me.”
Sir Lambert’s mouth was already curled into a snarl, and his fists clenched in impotent fury. Tom suppressed a smile, knowing Sir Lambert would hate that another lord, more esteemed than he was, would get what should have been his.
“I’ll have the sword though, ill-made as it is,” Sir Lambert hissed.
Tom shook his head.
“Nay, but you can’t. You said it yourself you find it ill made. And I always strive to keep happy the lords who seek my services. I wouldn’t want you to be unhappy, my lord. So, rest assured, I’ll send my boy, Declan, later today with the coin you paid.”
“Perchance I want my coin back now!” Sir Lambert snarled, understanding at last the sword was forever lost to him.
“But you shall have the coin. Today,” Tom said, beginning to toy with the sword and rising himself to his full height.
Sir Lambert was a tall man, yet Tom was a head taller and broader of shoulder. And he might not be a knight, but he was skilful with a sword. One didn’t learn to make such a weapon without knowing how to wield it. And soon Sir Lambert was no longer uttering anything, but just staring at him in impotent fury.
“Today, you shall have your coin, my lord,” Tom repeated in flawless Norman to the furious knight, in a voice he made cheerful and unconcerned.
When Sir Lambert was finally gone, Tom allowed himself to let out a heartfelt sigh. A lord knight’s hatred was the last thing he needed. Yet now he had it, and he had to thank the woman he’d spanked in the Square for it. After he’d instructed Declan what to do and entrusted him and William with the sword, he reluctantly headed to the house, knowing he and the woman whose name he didn’t even know should have a proper talk.
Beth tried to still her thumping heart as she was trying to focus on the chore she was doing, but it was hard to keep the thoughts away from the man who’d been her doom in this city. She’d come upon Sir Lambert while she was at the Market, and ever since they’d crossed paths, the knight hadn’t let her be. At first he’d been courteous and had tried to woo her, but Beth had seen his behaviour for what it was and she’d plainly told him nay. Sir Lambert might be handsome and a nobleman, but she’d had no wish to share her body with him, not even for the gifts and coin he’d been promising her.
She sighed out loud, recalling how Sir Lambert’s attentions had prevented her from finding honest work and from gaining a living for her mother and herself in the city of London. It was as if a curse had fallen upon her, because it had been another man’s lechery that had driven her away from her home in Winchester. In Winchester, the priest of their parish had spread vicious lies about Beth, claiming she’d attempted to lure him into sin. And in London, the knight who wished to have her had already told all and sundry she was a harlot. Beth had never shied away from work and had always thought herself capable of making her own living, even with her father and brothers gone and her home lost to her. Yet Sir Lambert’s lies had followed her wherever she’d gone. Even when she’d tried to take in washing or mending, no woman had been willing to hire her. She’d attempted to find work as a serving girl, but it seemed her curse followed her wherever she went. The master who’d deigned to employ her had propositioned her boldly since the first day of work, and she’d had to leave his employ. This had gone on wherever she’d sought employment. It seemed only men were willing to hire her services, and they expected an entirely different kind of service from the one she was willing to provide.
Beth now attempted to focus on her task and put bleak thoughts away. Her luck must change somehow and she should work harder to find her path. She raised her eyes only when she heard footsteps behind her. Straightening herself, she turned to face the man who hadn’t asked for anything in exchange for his help.
“What are you called?” Master Reed asked, perusing her with his piercing dark eyes.
“I am called Beth,” she replied, and tried not to blush under his searching stare.
She then spoke out of turn, although it was silly of her to wish to say such a thing to this man, who must already think the worst of her.
“I am no harlot!”
Master Reed shrugged, apparently unconcerned with her words.
“Your conduct before you came upon me is no business of mine,” he replied quietly.
Beth suppressed a bitter smile, telling herself it was of no matter. She would soon leave this place and seek her fortune elsewhere. Yet a splinter of ice pierced her heart because she pictured her life in a different town. Men like Sir Lambert and the priest in her parish were everywhere. And she was not as dim-witted as to not understand her own looks and forthright manner would attract them everywhere she went. It did not matter she’d not even shared her body with a man – people already believed what they wanted to believe.
“He is gone,” Master Reed said in the same quiet voice as before, and they both knew he was speaking of Sir Lambert. “Yet, I’ve come to know him. He is not a man to give up so easily on what he wants.”
Beth nodded. Sir Lambert had hounded her mercilessly and he’d been certain she would turn to him when left with no means of gaining her livelihood. He’d already tried to force hi
mself on her once, and Beth felt certain that tonight he would seek her out to finish what he’d started. She needed to go away from London this very night. Unless…
“You already told him I was your serving woman. Even Sir Lambert cannot lay claim on a woman who’s part of another man’s household,” she spoke, casting the blacksmith a steady look.
Master Reed raked a hand through his dark hair and said nothing.
“If you let me stay under your roof I will be able to pay off my debt to you. I’ve done the sums and in ten months I’ll be in the clear, if you provide food and lodging. I am a hard worker. You shall not be sorry if you take me on,” she pressed, knowing this was a better chance of making a livelihood than any she’d been given so far since she’d been forced to leave her hometown.
Master Reed returned her steady look.
“If I let you stay under my roof everyone will think you’re my leman, no matter the arrangement between us.”
Beth supposed she should be grateful he’d only used the word leman, but there was no disguising it. Just as there was no disguising the heat that clung between her and this man with his strong arms and his very dark eyes. Beth had always been forthright. She understood that, no matter what she did, if she stayed under Master Reed’s roof that heat would cling between them and soon begin to burn to blazes. She thought Master Reed knew it just as well as she did. And at this time she resolved there was no escape from it. She shrugged and replaced the word leman with the coarse one Sir Lambert had uttered.
“Well then… better your harlot than his,” she said squaring her shoulders and casting the man in front of her a bold stare.
Silence fell between them, but then Master Reed spoke with a shake of his head.
“Nay. I’ve never forced a woman to sell herself to me.”
Beth knew there was no return from what she would say next. She supposed she was not a good woman and she would have to serve penance for her impious words and thoughts. Yet things were what they were.
“But I am more than willing. It should be plain to you. Just as it’s plain to me you are more than willing,” she said, attempting to speak boldly, like a woman already used to the pleasures of the flesh.
And she made herself close the distance between them, taking his hand in hers. It was a hard, rough hand she’d already had occasion to feel upon her bottom. She then did a thing which, she understood, she’d wanted to do ever since she’d set eyes on him this morning. She raised his hand and softly brushed her cheek against it. It was then she heard Master Reed curse softly under his breath as he caught her in a swift embrace. He kissed her hungrily, gathering her into his arms. Beth had been kissed before, but never like this. She felt simply dazzled and had a hard time collecting herself when he broke the kiss.
“I am mad to be doing this,” he spoke, and it seemed to Beth he was speaking more to himself than to her.
He stepped back, then cast her a glance which was half furious and half hungry.
“If I let you stay on…” he began. “Then–”
With a thumping heart, Beth waited for what he had to say next.
“There will be no deceit between us. I shall always be truthful. And I expect you to be truthful in return,” he spoke softly.
Beth found it easy to nod her acquiescence. She’d always been honest in her dealings and, apart from her moment of weakness in the Square, she’d never really done wrong.
“I’m not a harsh man, but I will not tarry to take you over my knee if I think your behaviour warrants it,” he added looking at her pointedly.
Beth bit into her lip recalling only too well the punishment she’d received from him. It was not something she wanted to experience ever again, although there’d been a strange, heated feeling when the spanking had taken place. And after the spanking, she… Beth strived to push the punishment away from her mind, because at this moment she did not know how she felt about it.
“You’ll see, I’ll never give you cause for it!” she vowed, thinking to herself the punishment in itself could easily be avoided if he was not a harsh man.
Besides, Tom Reed already seemed to believe the worst of her and he would be relieved to discover she was other than he thought.
Chapter 3
That night the supper they all shared proved to be different in many ways from what Tom was used to. For one thing, Micah, Declan and William were all staring at the woman who’d joined his household, with looks of sheer rapture upon their faces. And Micah seemed to have indeed forgotten she was the very woman who’d attempted to steal his master’s purse. Tom supposed it was not only because of the meal she’d prepared for them that the boys were looking upon Beth like that. Her face and body were the stuff men’s dreams were made of. He supposed he was mad to set a temptress like that in the path of green, untried boys like his apprentices. He very much expected he would soon regret taking someone who looked and acted like Beth as his woman. Yet, strangely, he’d felt he didn’t have much choice about it.
He suppressed a sigh, focusing on his food, which was the best he’d eaten in months. In spite of the little time she’d had to provide a meal for four hungry males, Beth had made delicious frumenty to serve with meat. In that at least, as far as her cooking was concerned, the arrangement between them was going to prove better than good. Tom strived not to focus upon the other part of their arrangement which would prove better than good. He already knew he and this woman would be a wondrous match between the sheets. He’d felt this the very first moment his lips had touched hers...
“More frumenty?” Beth inquired solicitously, and all three boys eagerly nodded.
Tom suppressed a smile knowing they would have been licking their bowls even if Beth’s food had been the worst in the world. They were already besotted with her, and there was not much he could do about it.
The boys nodded their eager assent, and Tom felt as eager as they were for the table fare. Yet soon he found himself wondering if something even more delicious than their meal was soon awaiting him. Would Beth wish to lie with him already? He did not want to foist himself upon her, yet he found himself already fantasizing upon what it would be like to kiss those full lips again and caress those ample curves. And he soon found himself picturing so many more things he could do.
In autumn, spring, and summer, the boys made their bed in the loft above his shop, which is where they headed now. The place offered plenty of room for their pallets and belongings. That was where Tom himself and his younger brother had usually slept when their parents had been alive. It was only in winter that they sought the warmth of the kitchen. His parents had sadly passed away not long after Tom had gotten married, and Tom’s eyes roamed over to the chamber he’d shared with his wife in the years they’d been together.
“Do you wish to lie with me tonight?” he asked boldly, turning to the woman who was now standing rather shyly behind him.
She blushed, yet her voice was level and her back straight when she answered him, “Aye.”
He wanted her with a fierceness he’d never felt for any woman in this world, not even for his wife. And it was not only because she was so comely. There was something about her which simply set his blood on fire, and he couldn’t understand what it was. He shrugged away this unsettling thought, resolving it was better not to dwell upon it.
“I vowed to be always truthful. If we share the bed, you must know I can never marry you,” he said.
He searched for further words to speak to her, suddenly loath to utter his wife’s name this night when he thought of sharing his bed with another woman.
“I will never marry you,” he cautioned, laying emphasis on every word.
Beth cast him a steady glance.
“Certainly, I understand. Rest assured, it is the last thing I will ever expect from you. I’m grateful that…”
He shrugged her words away, and told her levelly, because she needed to understand how it would be between them, “It’s not payment of any kind I’m seeking. And I�
��ll not force you to lie with me if you don’t wish it.”
Whether she shared his bed or not, tongues would be wagging anyway and she’d already branded herself a loose woman in people’s eyes the moment she’d asked to stay under his roof. Yet Tom would not take advantage of Beth’s predicament if she did not want him in her bed.
She returned his level glance and spoke after a while.
“That maddening heat between us… You feel it too.”
Her words were bold, yet entirely true, and Tom found himself smiling at her.
“Aye,” he told her, reaching to touch her face and brush his fingers across her soft skin.
He was very famished for her, yet he would strive to slow down and prolong both her pleasure and his before they got to couple. It was plain from her words she would not shy away from coupling with him. There was no air of maidenly modesty about her, and from the way she’d spoken it was clear to him she’d shared her body with a man or even several before. He recalled Sir Lambert’s spiteful word, but decided to put it away from his mind. What Beth had or hadn’t done before she’d met him was not for him to judge, as he himself could hardly be called a saint. He only hoped she would be content with their arrangement and would not seek to deceive him or look for the company of other men. At this thought, he recalled another woman in his life and the thing she’d done, and tried to push her image away from his mind. It was not that hard to do so though, because the woman in front of him simply set his blood on fire.
Beth widened her eyes. This time, she did so as modestly as a maiden, as he boldly pressed his palm over her full breast, beginning to rub it in circles. By the way she was looking at him now, it seemed as if no man had ever touched her like this, but Tom smiled, understanding it was an act she now chose to put on. Plainly, she wanted to be playful on their first time together. And Tom found himself loving this playfulness, yet reminding himself he should be cautious with this woman.
Was she, after all, a cunning, deceitful creature seeking to take advantage of him? It was true she’d attempted to steal from him in the Square. Yet her eyes seemed true and her voice honest whenever she spoke to him. Or was it just a clever deception? Just as the coy, innocent act she was attempting to put on now as part of their love play? Tom decided it was too late to repent, he’d agreed to this arrangement. He threw caution to the wind and captured Beth’s full lips with his, now pressing his body close to hers, and feeling her luscious breasts sweetly crushed against him. He kissed her long, both gently and hard, because he soon perceived she was one of those women who took great pleasure in having his lips against hers and his tongue within her mouth.
