Caitlyn Box Set

by Elizabeth Davies

  ‘Please,’ he muttered, and I laughed softly, blowing on the tip. It jerked in response.

  When I poked out my tongue and gently circled the slit at the end, he moaned. An answering moan came from my own throat – I so badly wanted him inside me – but I was skilled at this, and I wanted him to enjoy my ministrations. Rhain especially loved this, and he used to demand the service often.

  Rhain? What was I doing thinking of my dead husband while sharing my bed with my very much alive lover? Except that I could not help but notice that the two men were so incredibly different in the bedchamber. Rhain had taken what was rightfully his, and although he had not been unduly rough, he had not given a great deal of thought to arousing me.

  Brihtric was an altogether different man, and my insides melted at the memory of what he had just done to me and how he had made me feel. I wanted more of the same, but first, I intended to satisfy my lover.

  Enough teasing. My mouth settled over the head of his shaft and his hips rose up to meet it, urging the hard, throbbing length deeper into my throat.

  Lips and tongue working, I sucked and licked, my hand still caressing his balls, until he let out an agonised moan, and liquid heat filled my mouth as his pleasure took him. I did not stop until I had coaxed every last drop from him, and he relaxed into the mattress, breathing hard, his chest glistening with sweat.

  I worked my way back up, and snuggled my face into his neck, curling myself into him.

  ‘That was...’ he trailed off, the blissful expression on his face saying what his words did not.

  I kissed his cheek, and prepared to nestle for a while, and perhaps let sleep claim me, expecting that he would need some time to recover even though I yearned to feel him inside me.

  Brihtric, however, had other ideas.

  His hand delved between my legs, his fingers finding their goal and sliding into the slick wetness, and I cried out at the delightful invasion. Then he began to play, bringing me to the brink of release again and again, until I was sobbing with the frustration of it.

  ‘Please,’ I begged, echoing his plea of earlier, but he carried on with the glorious torture, chuckling at my delicious torment.

  When he deemed that enough time had passed, he finally set about releasing me from my agony, settling himself above me, his manhood hard once more, and he plunged into my depths with one long slow thrust.

  It was enough to send me over the edge and I bucked and writhed under him as he rode me to oblivion. His own bliss came shortly after, and his cries matched my own as he collapsed on top of me.

  When he slid out, spent, I would have liked nothing more than to do it again, but I contented myself with adopting the nestling position of earlier, and his kiss was tender rather than lustful this time, and I knew I would get nothing more out of him for a while.

  As I lay there, I marvelled at my stamina and my greed. Never had I known such desire, such wanting, and I revelled in it. Pleasure such as this had never been mine, and although I had enjoyed my encounters with Rhain, it had been solely for the closeness it had offered. If I had known that lying with a man could be like this, I might have demanded an awful lot more from my husband.

  Brihtric pulled me closer, and I draped a leg over his and his arm held me firm. He kissed my hair, my brow, my nose, then settled back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

  I was satiated (more or less, though if he suggested another round I would heartily agree), but sleep was a long time coming.

  Thoughts I did not particularly want to have, sneaked into my mind when I wasn’t paying attention. As I listened to his breathing deepen and felt his limbs twitch, worries about the future wormed their insidious way into my brain.

  What future? they asked. You have no future – not with this man, not with any man. Your future consists of you waiting for Arlette to die, which could be many years in the future. Would Brihtric wait for you? Hardly! And if he did, how would you explain away your twenty-three-year-old face and body, to his fifty, or sixty-year-old one? Hell, he might well die before Arlette anyway, those thoughts taunted. Besides, you have no choice but to return to Normandy with William. Arlette would not let you do anything else. You can beg all you like, but she is your mistress, and you will do as she bids.

  I moved restlessly against him, silently telling those nasty voices to bugger off, even as I acknowledged the truth of what they said. But I did not want to hear it, not right now when I lay in his arms, smelling the heady scent of lovemaking on our bodies and feeling the smoothness of his skin against mine and the hardness of his muscles even in sleep. The candles burned low, but the light was enough to see the outline of his forehead, nose, and lips, and to think how handsome he was as he slept, with those light brown lashes against his cheek, eyelids fluttering from some dream or another. I hoped he was dreaming of me.

  Is this fair on him, the voice asked? You know in your heart that this is not a quick, meaningless affair, for either of you. Nothing had been said, but it did not need to be, if the intense connection is to be believed. He feels the same way as you, the voice persisted. How will he react when you have to leave?

  How indeed? I countered. He knows I am part of William’s entourage, he knows my time in England is limited. He cannot expect me to be free to stay.

  What if he plans on asking William for your hand, the voices asked, and my heart sank. William would undoubtedly say “no”, but even if he did not, I wasn’t free to marry Brihtric, and even if (and this was not remotely possible) Arlette agreed to let me remain in England, I could never marry.

  An image of a still-youthful Caitlyn sitting by the side of a wizened, old Brihtric clouded my mind. Every day I would be praying for Arlette’s death (not that I didn’t pray for that already), and for every day that the enchantment held would be another day of torment for me.

  No, Caitlyn, I told myself, there was no future, there could never be a future with Brihtric, or with any other man. But I was in too deep to easily extricate myself now. I would simply have to rely on the necessary return to Normandy, which would bring about the natural conclusion to our affair.

  I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that I had a chance to know such joy, or to be bitter to have known it and lost it. Should I end it now, tonight, I wondered, and spare myself anymore heart-ache?

  No, I could not, I realised. It would be hell seeing Brihtric around the court and know that I could not touch him again. I didn’t think I could do it. It would be better to see it through to the very day I left, and let a ship and the miles of sea under her bow do the ending for me.

  Slipping carefully out of his arms, I eased out of bed and went to stand by the window, my mind in turmoil, my heart aching. There was still over three weeks before we set sail, and already I was hurting because of it. The rest of my time on this soil would be spent in bitter-sweet torment. I would simply have to deal with it as best I could and wring every last drop of joy and pleasure from the days we had left. If nothing else, I would carry the memory of our time together and treasure it in the bleak, loveless days ahead.

  Then one single word pierced my soul and shattered my heart.

  ‘Odella.’

  It was softly spoken, almost a mutter, but I heard it clearly enough, and the name had come from the lips of the man who was sharing my bed.

  Brihtric had said another woman’s name and the sound of it almost made me weep. It was said with such love and such longing, I could have howled, and when he uttered her name again tears welled in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.

  ‘Odella.’

  Brihtric was in love with someone else.

  Chapter 24

  I returned to bed and lay by my lover’s side for a long time, rigid and hurting. The pain was intense, but so was the slow-building anger. How could he? How dare he! I thought he loved me…

  He had not said as much, nor even hinted at it, but what we had shared, what I felt for him—? Ah, what I felt for him did not necessarily mean that he felt the sa
me way about me, did it? Was I guilty of projecting my own feelings onto Brihtric? Was I only seeing what I wanted to see?

  Maybe, I conceded. And was he even aware how much I loved him?

  Oh, lord, I loved him!

  There, I had admitted it.

  But was love supposed to be tinged by this much hurt, this much anger?

  I lay next to him and thrummed with it. Rage vibrated through every bone and coursed through every vein. How dare he fuck me without a thought for my feelings. How dare he use me like that.

  How I remained quiet and still, I do not know, but still and quiet I stayed, letting the anger surge over me, the breaking waves of fury washing away the love like so much sand on a storm-tossed beach.

  And when it was finally spent and the damage had been done, I thought about him – us – with as much clarity as I could muster, until it was finally clear and straight in my mind. Brihtric might, or might not, love me; I was unsure on that point. He might or might not love this Odella; I was unsure on that point, too. But there were two things I was certain of. The first was that I had rutted with him willingly. He had not forced me, he had not led me on. It had been a mutual mating, and I had been as eager for him as he had been for me. In all conscience, I could not heft all the blame onto his broad shoulders. I needed to take an equal measure for myself.

  And the other thing? What I felt for him, and what (if anything) he felt for me, did not matter. How could it, when I was destined to return to Normandy? The chains that bound me would not be broken by distance, or time. I was Arlette’s creature and I could no more stay here than I could fly.

  If Brihtric also viewed our union as fleeting, expecting it to come to its natural end when I set sail with William, then how could I blame him for that, when I was doing the exact same thing myself?

  One thing I realised – although the anger might have diminished, the hurt still remained. Maybe not as deep as I expected, it was nevertheless there, and I suspected I would be living with it for some time to come.

  Brihtric stirred beside me, coming awake slowly, his eyelids opening, before closing again as he stretched.

  ‘Who is Odella?’ The words were out of my mouth before I realised I was going to say them.

  Brihtric blinked sleepily for a heartbeat, then what I said sank in. ‘Odella?’ His voice was cautious, and I could tell from the wariness in his eyes that he was finally wide awake.

  ‘You spoke her name in your sleep.’

  He rubbed a hand across his face, his fingers rasping against his beard. I winced, remembering how it had felt against the most tender of places, and how those little coarse hairs had added to my enjoyment.

  ‘I did,’ he said. It was a statement, not a question. He paused for a long, long moment. ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked, eventually.

  How was I to answer that? My love for him was strong, but not all-encompassing. And I barely knew the man. Oh, I knew his body almost as well as I knew my own, but his mind was closed to me. Apart from affairs of state, we had discussed little of our personal lives. I might love him, but did I trust him? I wasn’t sure, and my hesitation told him all he needed to know.

  He rolled out of bed and reached for his breeches. I watched him splash water on his face and finish dressing. Neither of us spoke until he was fully clothed, and then he said, ‘I want to show you something. Will you come with me?’

  I nodded, but made no move to leave the false security of my bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, the fur tickling my nose. He must have realised I needed privacy, and he walked to the door.

  ‘I shall find some food to take with us. We can break our fast on the way,’ he said, then he was gone before I could ask where he was taking me.

  I took my time getting dressed, calling for my maid to help me into my gown and allowing her to braid my hair. When I was ready and composed enough to face him again, I made my way to Edward’s great hall where a spread of cold meats and cheeses, bread and honey, blueberries and blackberries were laid out for anyone to help themselves. Breakfast wasn’t a formal affair, the servants having placed the dishes on trestle tables from sunrise onwards, ready for knights and nobles alike to serve themselves when they wished.

  There was not a great deal left when I arrived, but neither was I hungry, so it did not matter that the bread was starting to go stale or that the slices of cured pork were curling at the edges. I poured a goblet of sweet mead, the honey flavour bursting on my tongue as I drank, and never once took my eyes off my lover.

  Brihtric was sprawled along a bench, one leg cocked over the other, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Maybe he didn’t, but I certainly did and I mourned his loss. If I had known that last night was to be our final one together, then I would have made more of it, and not wasted it in sleep. Not that I had actually slept, but I would have ensured that Brihtric had not closed his eyes either.

  He had not taken his gaze off me from the moment I entered the hall and he watched me with an inscrutable expression, and when I was finally done and could procrastinate no more, he got to his feet and slung a saddlebag over his shoulder.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked.

  No, I thought, but I followed him out of the door anyway to find the horses waiting for us. I blushed as the same beast which had thrown me a few days ago, pawed at the ground, and the memory of being taken so thoroughly and so delightfully in the woods came to mind. Half of me hoped that the horse would throw me again, so Brihtric and I could have a repeat performance.

  My lover caught the flush on my cheeks and smiled a slow, knowing smile, swiftly followed by a more sombre expression, and I wondered what he intended to show me. Whatever it was, he did not look pleased about it.

  We took a southerly road out of the city, and despite my apprehension, I was once more relieved to be free from the castle. The last few days had been spent doing very little except thinking about when I could next see this man, and trying to keep my feelings for him from spilling out and revealing themselves to all and sundry. The days had not been so bad, because Brihtric spent most of them with his king, but the evenings, when Edward’s court had been at supper, were an agonising delight. Then there were the nights…

  My thighs tingled at the memory.

  William had been remarkably silent in his demands of me, and I had hardly seen him. I consoled myself with the knowledge that if he wanted me, he would send for me, and that if he did not want me, then all must be good and running to plan. I did have a pang of conscience that maybe I should be spying on Wulfstan, and I vowed to do more of that when I returned; I had not forgotten the brief, clandestine meeting that Wulfstan had had with a man who spoke Danish.

  We rode for some miles and the sun was high in the sky when Brihtric eventually brought his horse to a halt.

  I looked around for some indication of where we could be, but this stretch of dirt road looked the same as the last few miles of dirt road, and there wasn’t a building of any description in sight. I wondered why we had stopped.

  The reason became clear when Brihtric slid from his horse and reached inside the saddlebag, bringing out a cloth package which he unwrapped. He offered me first choice of the bread within and I took a hunk gratefully.

  We sat in silence, chewing on our simple meal, washing it down with watered wine, and when we had eaten our fill, I finally spoke.

  ‘How much further?’

  ‘A couple of miles. This ground you are sitting on belongs to me. My home is over that hill.’

  ‘You are taking me to your home?’ I had not been expecting that. ‘Why?’

  ‘You will see,’ was all he said, as we remounted and went on our way.

  Up and over the hill, then through a stand of trees, and when we emerged out through the other side a wide valley opened up below us. In a curve of land formed by the winding contours of a river, lay a large fortress with a wooden palisade surrounding it. It was reminiscent of Castle Cary, and I had a sense of déjà vu, and for a heartbeat,
I almost imagined that the man riding at my side was Idris…

  Brihtric pulled on his horse’s reins and I followed suit, and we paused, scanning the scene below.

  Staring straight ahead, my lover began to speak. ‘I love you, Caitlyn. I want you to remember that when I show you—’ He stopped, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.

  My heart missed a beat. He loved me. How I had longed to hear those words fall from his lips as he held me. But now that he had said them, they did not sound like they should. There was no joy in them, only a certain weariness tinged with despair.

  Then common sense kicked in. Show me what? What was it that I needed to see, and why did I have to remember that he loved me when I saw it?

  We rode in through the gates, Brihtric’s men calling out greetings. He bowed his head to each of them and gave them a smile, but one which did not reach his eyes.

  An older man hurried out from one of the buildings, wiping his hands on his jerkin. ‘My lord, you should have sent word, we didn’t expect you. I would have prepared your room.’

  ‘No matter, Drew, I will be gone by sundown.’ Brihtric dismounted and handed the reins to a young boy, then he helped me slip from my horse.

  I smoothed my skirts and glanced around. The feeling of déjà vu increased. A wood-built, two-storey tower sat in the centre of a bailey. Several other buildings were encircled by a high palisade, and I glanced up at the ramparts, seeing men-at-arms patrolling them. For all that England appeared at peace with herself, this scene told a different story, and I wondered who Brihtric was defending himself against.

  ‘Is she…?’ he began to ask Drew, then trailed off.

  ‘The same as ever, my lord.’ Drew said. He pursed his lips and frowned. I suspected he wanted to say more but I had no idea what was preventing him.

  ‘I shall see her now,’ Brihtric said, and Drew signalled to one of the women who had gathered in the bailey.

  ‘Nelda,’ Brihtric said, nodding to her.

  The woman nodded back at him. Apart from one curt glance in my general direction, she did not acknowledge me and neither did she speak, but I was all too aware of the curious scrutiny of Brihtric’s people and I felt somewhat discomforted.