"And what of the machine you sketched yesterday?" Lubos asked, holding out the damp bark piece that had survived his dunking.
Molina took the drawing and stared at it for a long moment. "An idea that came to me yesterday. A wheel for spinning thread. By making the spinning go faster, a woman could spin more in a day, or have more time for other things. Or if every woman in town had one, and spent the same amount of time spinning, there'd be more linen than they could possibly need. Enough to sell, for there is always a market for linen, whether 'tis coarse or fine. Or if I could harness a waterwheel to power the spinning wheel, or a dozen spinning wheels, much like I've done with the hammers for beating the flax into fibres we can spin…" Only now did she recognise the glazed over look in Lubos' eyes, and stopped. Maybe he wasn't so different to the village boys or Bachmeier after all. "I can see I'm boring you, Master Lubos."
He shook his head, and the glazed look vanished. "No, you are distracting me. I should be listening to your words, but you're filled with such passion that my thoughts drifted…elsewhere. I must apologise, Mistress Molina. No matter how intently I listen to your words, I will never be able to convey them as clearly as you can. Your ideas are…amazing. They cannot be allowed to rot in this place, like flax in the millponds. They must be conveyed to the king, while they are still fresh and new. When I leave for the capital, you must come with me."
Leave the village and visit the capital? Molina's heart leaped at the thought. No one left the village, and if they did, it was only to visit the next town over. The capital…why, it was as distant as the moon to most of them. To think she might get to meet the king, and have one of the king's own men speaking in support of her…perhaps her spinning wheels could be more than just a dream.
She seized Lubos's shoulders and kissed him. She intended it to be a chaste kiss – she knew her father was watching, after all – but the moment her lips touched his, she forgot everything. His lips were warm and willing, parting to tempt her inside, and she could not refuse. His tongue caressed hers with an ardour that spoke of more, far more, than a simple kiss. And as she kissed him back, letting her tongue dance with his, her body ached to share that ardour, pressing against him so that she could feel the heat of him through his borrowed clothes. What would it feel like to have his hands stroke her the way he'd stroked himself, crying out her name as he touched her…
Molina pushed him away before she tore his clothes off in her passion to satisfy her curiosity.
Molina took a deep breath. "I will come with you," she said, then added, "If my father agrees he can spare me." She nodded up the mountain, to the trees where she suspected her father watched, unseen, waiting for just such a kiss.
She was not surprised, when the question was put to her father, that he sat there as satisfied as a cream-filled cat as he gave his permission. "But you must swear to take good care of her, for Molina is my only daughter, and very precious to me," Father finished.
Lubos looked grave, then placed his hand over his heart. "Sir, I swear to you on my honour that I will hold her life dearer than my own for every moment she is in my care."
Neither made any mention of her returning home, Molina noticed, but chose to hold her tongue. Father imagined her marrying the man, she was sure of it, but Lubos…she wasn't sure why he would want to keep her. Perhaps to supervise the wheel building or some such thing. For a man who could resist Bachmeier's daughters was not one who allowed his passions to rule him.
She pushed away the small voice in her head that protested about how little she knew about this man, or the king and his court. This was her fate, and she would not let such an opportunity pass by without seizing it. No one could know the future, but she knew hers was twisted up with Lubos, at least for now.
And on the journey, she would have time to find out if he truly was a fool, or merely a fool in love. Was it too much to ask that her heart longed for the second?
Thirteen
It took every ounce of Abraham's will not to take Maja in her arms and kiss her like he wanted to. If he failed, he would never see her again. Never touch her…
He dropped to one knee. "My lady, I swear on my life, that I will not return until the curse is broken."
She reached for his face, but he reared back before she could touch his skin. He could not risk her falling victim to his curse.
Tears coursed down her cheeks. "You don't know he has it. You don't. Stay until the babe is born. Then, if he is cursed, as you say, you can go and seek out this witch in the capital. Please, Abraham…"
He shook his head. "You do not understand. The curse will not show until he is close to the end of his life, and then it will be too late. For him. For me. I must find this witch in the capital, for she is in danger, the seer said, and only she can break the curse. I swore an oath to my father on his deathbed. An oath I cannot break."
"What about your oath to love and protect me?"
He met her anguished eyes, and it felt like his heart had been replaced with her own, for anguish squeezed his just the same. But he could not yield. So he swallowed, and said, "This is the only way I can protect you and the child you carry. As long as I am near you, one touch could kill you. I cannot let that happen. Farewell, Maja."
He turned, hardening his heart against the heartbroken sobbing behind him, and strode out to his waiting horse.
"You're a fool," Chase said, emerging from the shadows outside the gate.
Abraham sighed. "That I am. If I could have spared her this, I would have. Now…I will do all I can to save our son from the curse." He swallowed, wincing as his chest ached again. "Take care of her for me, brother."
"I am her brother, not yours. And a fool, too, for not protecting her from you."
"Then I am honoured to have been able to call you brother, if only for a short time," Abraham said. For in his heart, he knew he would never see Chase or Maja again. Though he would have given everything he owned to be wrong.
With a heavy heart, he spurred his horse into a gallop, leaving behind his home and everything he held dear.
Fourteen
For the first few days, Molina and Lubos rode together on the same palfrey, sometimes with her before him and sometimes behind. They made slow progress, for he stopped often to relieve himself, or so he said. More than once, she'd had to wait for him for some time while he disappeared into the woods, and she grew suspicious, for he drank no more than she did.
On the third morning, he procured a second palfrey from the inn, which he insisted was her new mount, and she was so busy managing the fine-looking but ill-tempered horse she paid little attention to what Lubos did, though it seemed to her he stopped less frequently.
The evenings did not change, though. Especially the ones they spent in the woods, between inns. At least, not until they travelled further north, where the nights were colder. One such night she woke up, shivering, despite her heavy cloak and the merrily burning fire.
"Is it always so cold, Master Lubos?" she asked through chattering teeth.
"Yes," he said gravely. "I must find you a fur cloak before winter, for you will need it in the capital. In the meantime, you may share mine." He flipped open his fur-lined cloak in invitation.
Molina hesitated for only a moment before she accepted. Rolled up in her own cloak, she was soon enveloped in his, too. Close enough to kiss him, yet separated by enough layers of linen and wool to ensure propriety.
Each night in the open, it became an oft-repeated routine. He would vanish into the woods for a little while, then return and offer to share his cloak with her. More than one morning, she'd woken in his arms, with her head resting on his shoulder or his chest. Neither of them spoke of it, but it seemed like a small enough thing, so Molina didn't mind if he didn't.
One night, when Lubos took his usual walk into the woods, Molina thought she heard him call her name. Then again, with considerable urgency. She hurried after him, determined to help him if he needed her.
But she found he did
not need her help at all, for it was as though they were back in her father's house, with him holding his manhood in both hands as he said her name, over and over.
This was what he did every night, and every morning, too, Molina realised. So she wasn't the only one having carnal thoughts when they lay together at night.
"Do all men exercise their manhoods as often as you do?" Molina burst out, unable to restrain her curiosity any more. "Or is it because yours is bigger that it requires more exercise than most?"
Lubos turned and stared at her, his face reddening. Had he truly thought she didn't know what he was doing?
"I mean, every night and again every morning seems a little excessive. Most of the men in the village only do it once a night, which is once more than their wives would like, or so they say. Yet here you are, at it again."
"I can't stop thinking about you. Even in my dreams. This…helps." He turned away and resumed stroking himself.
The idea came again, the one that she couldn't stop thinking about, and this time Molina didn't dismiss it. Instead, she said, "What would you be willing to give me if I…if I helped you?"
She almost laughed at her own awkward words. How her father believed she could seduce anyone, she didn't know. But she could not forget that kiss, or the thoughts that had come after.
"Helped me how?"
She gritted her teeth. She'd have to say it now. "If I were to lift my skirts, perch on your lap, and let you put that snake of yours inside me?"
He let out a shaky breath. "I…I'd give everything I have. My heart, my love, my protection for as long as I live. I'd marry you, make you my bride, and love you all the days of my life. But I'd want you more than just once, Molina. I'd want you always."
Always, as he loved her all the days of his life. Some sort of madness descended on her, or perhaps it was sanity. She wasn't sure. But Molina marched up to Lubos and straddled him, lifting her skirts so she could feel his skin against hers. She looked deep into his eyes. "Swear it," she said.
He groaned. "Oh, Molina, I'd make you my wife before I dared do this. Yes, I swear by my life and yours and all I hold dear. I will marry you, if you are willing."
"Good," she said, then pushed against him, feeling the heat of him as he entered her. He cupped her bottom and drove deep, and she gasped. This was nothing like the one quick fumble she'd had with Rikard. Not painful at all. This was…wonderful. "I'll marry you, on one condition," she said breathlessly.
"Name it," he panted.
"You must make love to me every night. Just like this."
He laughed. "It shall be as my lady wishes. Every night."
Her pleasure built until she could no longer control it. She cried out, clenching down hard on him. The other girls in the village had never told her about this. Maybe this was the courtly love the wandering minstrels sang about, known only to men at court.
"I love you, Lubos," she said.
"And I love you, sweet Molina. I've never seen you more beautiful than you are tonight. I would give anything to hear you scream my name like that again."
The way he moved within her, his soft kisses on her breasts and her face, his arms holding her tight…it was only a matter of time before she granted his wish, screaming his name into the night as she felt his own, blissful release deep inside her. And for the first time in her life, she was content.
Fifteen
Three times he made love to her that first night, and again in the morning. If he'd thought her passion for machines was bewitching, it was nothing compared to the unrestrained joy on her face as he brought her to the peak of her pleasure. Even in his dreams, he hadn't imagined coupling with her could be this good. And now, he couldn't imagine ever loving another woman the way he loved her.
Watching her climb astride her mare shot a pang of jealousy through his heart. He wished he hadn't bought her the horse, so that she might ride before him again, pressed against his groin as she drove him to distraction. For tonight they would spend the night in a fine inn, where they would share the inn's biggest bed, and he could show her how much better be performed in a bed instead of the cold, hard ground. He'd make sure the room had a good fire, so that he could lay her naked upon the bed, and take his time learning every inch of the lovely body he'd touched in the dark last night.
They made good time, perhaps because he'd set a faster pace in his eagerness to arrive at their destination. It was barely mid-afternoon. Perhaps he could persuade her to retire early…
He glanced back at Molina, just in time to see her almost fall out of her saddle, she was so tired. Lubos raced to her side, ready to catch her as she half-slid, half fell off the horse into his arms.
"Innkeep, your best room!" Lubos shouted.
The innkeeper himself came running out, wide-eyed. He recognised Lubos on sight. "Of course. And for…the woman?"
She was more than just some woman. Molina would one day be his queen. "Your best is for Lady Molina, my bride. We have ridden hard for some weeks now, and I fear it is more than she is accustomed to. A warm fire, water to wash with, a good meal, and plenty of rest is what she needs."
The innkeeper bowed low. "Of course. One of my manservants will take her for you, and the grooms will see to your horses. Your father has sent – "
"No one touches her but me," Lubos growled, surprising himself, but not as much as the innkeeper, whose eyes were now wide as saucers.
"As you wish, Your Highness. But your father sent an urgent missive for you, and I dare not disobey the king, whose messenger said I must give it into your hands the moment I saw you."
"When my bride is safe and warm, I will come down, and see to this missive," Lubos said, already ascending the stairs with Molina in his arms.
He laid her on the bed, then knelt to remove her boots. She had the tiniest feet – how had he not noticed before? He pulled off her stockings, remembering the feel of that fine linen against his back as she wrapped her legs around him.
"Lubos?" Her voice was sleepy and slurred.
He'd kept her up half the night, not letting her sleep at all. And here he was, wanting to interrupt her sleep again with more lovemaking. Lubos cursed himself. He'd have her for the rest of their lives – he could certainly wait an hour or two until she was rested.
"Rest, my lady. We're at an inn. I will make sure no one disturbs you," he said.
She sat up, blinking. "An inn? Is there water I can wash with?"
As if on cue, a maid knocked on the open door and entered, staggering under the weight of two full jugs of water. She was followed by two more girls, each as heavily laden, and a third carrying a wooden tub.
The thought of Molina bathing naked stopped him in his tracks. He should dismiss the maids and offer to help her himself. Then afterwards, perhaps…
"Sir, I was charged to remind you about the letter from the king," one of the maids said, dragging him out of much pleasanter thoughts.
Reluctantly, Lubos nodded. "Duty must come first." He followed the girls down the stairs, leaving Molina alone in her chamber.
His father's missive had been long and suspicious, demanding answers about the various barons Lubos had visited, between lengthy rants about the infractions of each baron, or sometimes even the present baron's ancestors, for Father was a firm believer in bloodlines breeding true to the source. No matter how many times Lubos told him his son was not merely a younger copy of himself.
Sighing, Lubos had called for parchment and ink, and sat down to write the lengthy reply his father required, for it would be some weeks before they arrived in the capital, and Father needed to know his barons were doing their best to recover from the spring floods, as opposed to cheating him of his tithes this year.
Darkness had fallen by the time he was done, and he trudged up the stairs behind a maid bearing their dinner on a tray. She placed it on the table, dropped a curtsey, and left, closing the door behind her.
Molina was asleep, cocooned in the bed like she'd lain in her cloak beside the
fire those first few nights, before he'd made his thoughtless offer to share his cloak with her. She'd chosen to unwittingly torture him by accepting.
All those nights, laying beside her and not laying a finger on her, until last night…and now he would share her bed. Dinner could wait, for Lubos could wait no longer. He shucked off his clothes and crawled into bed beside her.
She'd bathed and dressed in a thin shift, so she now smelled faintly of soap and whatever herbs and flowers she kept her linens in. And she was warm, from the combination of the merry blaze and the thick eiderdown that covered her. Almost as warm as she'd been last night…
Lubos reached down, edging up the hem of her shift so that he could stroke her thigh. Her skin was as soft as the silks he'd dress her in, once he got her to the capital. He slid a finger inside her, gasping as he found her as hot and wet as when he'd surrendered to her last night.
She moaned in her sleep. "Mm, Lubos."
He wanted to hear her scream his name again.
He slid a second finger into her, stroking in and out, before pressing his thumb against that tiny little nub that was the centre of her pleasure.
She bucked, moaning louder this time, which only made him stroke harder. Her muscles clenched around his fingers, holding him inside her, as Lubos circled her with his thumb. Her eyes flew open as her back arched up. "Oh my God, Lubos!" she cried out.
He withdrew his drenched fingers, then impulsively stuck them in his mouth, to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked. Ha, she was both sweet and salty, and he wanted more. He spread her legs wide, kissing his way up her thigh before plunging his tongue deep inside her.
God, she tasted good. He slid his fingers inside her again, sucking hard at that little nub of hers until she gasped with delight. Slowly, he took up the same rhythm as before, slower, more sensuously this time, as he relished the taste of her. Then she thrust her hips toward him, much like he'd thrust deep into her last night.
"Lubos, please!" she begged, tangling her fingers in his hair, throwing her legs over his shoulders to give him better access to all of her. "Oh please!"
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