Windsong

by Allison Knight

  Alwyn’s heart wrenched. Had she suffered a strike from the boar before she climbed the tree?

  “Ella,” Milisent said, her voice shaking. “‘Tis only scraps from the tree I climbed. I will recover. I must change into something dry.”

  She stood as if to leave the room and both occupants shouted at once.

  “Nay!”

  “Stay!”

  “Do not leave this chamber!” The last was from Alwyn. He could not let her out of his sight. The thought that he might not have been in time to save her cascaded through him like a fast moving stream over a bed of rock.

  “Ella, bring her a gown. And Arvel, you mentioned warm wine. She will also need a drying cloth.” He turned to the woman on his bed. “This room is warmer than your chamber. Ella will help you change. You must stay here.”

  The thought of Milisent there had him stumbling from the room. Revenge was the last thing he wanted. What he wanted now was for her to stay where she was. And if he was honest with himself, he wanted to join her.

  What had she done to him?

  EIGHT

  The evening meal passed quickly. Alwyn had little to say, nor did it surprise him when Arvel made few comments. That the afternoon could have ended in great consequence and Alwyn knew his brother shared his thoughts.

  “I will be taking my leave at dawn tomorrow,” Arvel said as the tables were cleared.

  “‘Tis not necessary. You know you are welcome to stay longer.”

  “Aye, but it is time and this household needs to return to the usual activities.” He glanced at the busy servants. “I ask only that you give thought to allowing your Milisent to act as chatelaine. Everyone needs direction, but your people roam with no guidance.”

  “She is not my Milisent, but I will consider your words.” Alwyn gazed at his people. Arvel said truth, for several of them seemed to meander with no purpose.

  “I need time to reflect.” Alwyn rose from the dais. “This day has caused all here great strain.” He gestured toward the soldiers quietly gathered around the hall before he punched his brother’s shoulder in affection.

  “I too must seek my furs. Your poor attempts to fell me this morn have left me needing my rest,” Arvel said and chuckled.

  Alwyn grimaced. “What do you mean, my poor attempts? I took you to ground three times before we called our battle done.”

  “Ho, do you not know I let you win? You seemed to need the victory.” Arvel rose from table, grinning at his brother.

  Alwyn glared at him and opened his mouth to rebut the claim, but changed his mind. Instead he said,”I bid you a good rest.” He climbed the stairs toward his chamber.

  Ella blocked the entrance.

  “She occupies your bed. You cannot sleep there.”

  “I do not intend to sleep.” He glanced at Rhys, who approached. “But fear not, for I do not intend to share her bed. I have need of some time to consider all that has happened this day. That room is where I think best. Now, leave be.”

  He pushed past.

  The most comfortable chair in the house sat in this room before the warming embers of a fire. He intended to do his thinking there, despite the woman in his bed. It was also private for no servant would disturb him there. He would have the solitude he needed to contemplate the events of the day.

  He had nearly lost the woman who formed the center of his revenge. However, the pain he suffered fearing for her life had to be considered. She had suddenly become more important than he had planned. Aye, she stirred feelings he wanted to deny, but could not.

  He sank into his chair and stared at the elaborate trunk occupying a place of pride against the far wall. A cynical smile touched his lips, for once before in a tiny cottage he had sat staring at nothing while this woman slept close at hand.

  The rain that had fallen for most of the late afternoon, had turned into a fierce storm. Rain pelted the window and wind whistled though the fireplace opening, sending the puffs of smoke into the room and stirring the embers. Tiny flames danced from the dying coals. He was tempted to check on the whole building, but this room was warm and the thought of striding into the wind and rain held little attraction. He would check on the morrow. There were too many other thoughts racing through his head to worry about the house this night.

  By now Chelse had to know about the taking of his castle, and that Milisent had been kidnapped. Would he send word to Edward? That gave pause. Then there was his own family. He suspected Arvel would arrive at his sister’s home within the week, and Rhianna would want to know what was going on. She would never settle for his refusal to discuss his plans. Nay, she would keep questioning until she had the answers. And she would not approve his idea for revenge.

  Nor did the thought of finding a husband for Milisent sit well with him. The idea of another possessing what he wanted stirred something deep in him that hurt as if he had taken the swipe of a sword.

  He rubbed his side, this pain reminding him of another battle. But that made no sense for this was not yet a battle, nor did he expect it to become one. Chelse was a skilled warrior, but Alwyn doubted he would fight for a mistress. What man would? Women who only occupied a man’s bed, who brought nothing with them, were not worth the trouble. Nay, Chelse would not start a battle just to have Milisent returned.

  How could this woman could cause him such distress? He had suffered when Essylt died, but more from pride because his home had been invaded. He had felt affection for his wife, but not the rending pain that nearly toppled him from his horse this afternoon when he saw the danger in which Milisent found herself. What was it about this woman who now seemed to plague his every thought? A ready answer did not come.

  How long he sat in his chair staring at nothing, his mind awhirl, listening to the storm without, he did not know. Nor could he say what pulled him from his thoughts. Mayhap it was the restlessness of the woman in his bed, or the moans issuing from her lips. He jerked to attention when she shot up in bed and screamed.

  “Nay,” he jumped to his feet and stumbled toward the bed wondering if the tearing wind had bothered her. Before he reached her bedside, she had reclined again, but she was shaking so badly the whole bed was trembling.

  With care, he sat next to her and touched her. She calmed immediately and he sighed with relief.

  But touching her increased the beat of his heart and his breathing became little more than a pant. Without thinking of the consequences he stroked her arm and the sigh slipping from her lips was a sound of contentment. Stopping the caresses became an impossibility.

  As she snuggled into the furs her intense blue eyes snapped open and she stared up at him. She opened her mouth but what he expected were not the words she murmured.

  “Kiss me.”

  He shook his head even as he moved closer. The temptation was too great. He scooped her into his arms and gave her the kiss she requested. But one kiss was not enough.

  Heat rushed though him and he touched the corner of her mouth with his tongue. She gasped and it was all he needed before he mated his tongue with hers. Her taste filled him with more desire and he pulled her closer still.

  She was small, so different from the last woman in his life. He could not help but free one hand to caress her shoulder, her arms. He slid his fingers under one breast, the soft flesh burning the top of his hand.

  She sighed and he released her mouth to kiss her cheek, her eyelids, her neck, to nibble at her ear lobe. He wanted her. He needed her. Forgotten were his plans for revenge.

  ~ * ~

  Milisent sighed. Alwyn’s kiss was everything she remembered. She had come so close to great harm today and she needed a reaffirmation she had survived. His kisses told her she was very much alive and capable of sensation other than fear or pain.

  She pulled away from him for an instant and murmured, “I thank you for your rescue.”

  “Do not think on this day. It is over and you are safe.”

  “Aye, but for you, I would have died.” She smiled and snu
ggled closer, “I cannot get the sight of that beast from my head. He charges at me as I sleep.” She trembled in his arms with the memory of her dreams.

  “Forget the boar. Know that it is over. Nothing will happen to you now.”

  She reached up and did something she had wanted to do over these last days. With her fingers she divided the locks on his head. His hair felt like the softest silk. She traced the slight touch of silver glinting through the waves, then trailed her fingers down his cheek, rough with the stubble of a beard, over his chin to stroke his rigid jaw. My, he was tense. Did he not like her touch?

  She dropped her hand.

  “Nay, I like the feel of your caress,” he whispered. “Pray do not stop.”

  She smiled and patted his cheek. He was so strong, so much a man. When she took a deep breath she admitted he had a masculine scent, so clean, so pleasant and so unlike the scum her brother had commanded her to wed. She could not help but enjoy the sensation of contentment.

  Nor could she stop the need to press her lips to his once more. He caused such wonderful feelings in her. If she was honest, she had to admit she wanted time to halt at this moment, for she would willingly stay in his arms forever.

  Realty seemed to slip away and she felt his fingers roam over her arm, her shoulder and to trace the mound of her breast. His finger grazed her nipple and the streak of pleasure that rushed through her caused a moan which startled her. It must have disturbed him, for he lifted his hand.

  “Nay,” she muttered and grasped his hand to bring it back to her breast. Oh, she wanted that feeling again. All conscious thought dissolved with the sensations rippling through her from his touch.

  What would it feel like if he kissed her there? He drew the linen covering to her waist as he nibbled his way from her throat to the mound of her breast. She arched against him wondering how he could read her thoughts.

  When he blew on the tip of her breast she moaned and a desire unlike anything she had ever known cascaded like the rushing water of a swiftly flowing steam. Aye, she wanted him to kiss her there.

  Again, as if he knew of her desire, he took the nipple into his mouth and sucked.

  “Aye,” she breathed against his shoulder, digging her fingers into his back.

  She twisted against the thrills whirling from the tip of her breast to that secret place between her legs. “Aye,” she murmured over and over.

  He lifted his head and smiled before he moved to the other breast, again blowing on the nipple before consuming it as he had the other. While his mouth worked it’s magic, his tongue lapped at the sensitive nubbin and heat, like a fine, warm wine, swirled through her veins. Rational thought was impossible. All she could do was enjoy the sensations racing through her.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind a single thought surfaced. What was happening should not be allowed—but the pleasure was too intense. She wanted this; she craved his touch, the strange feelings tumbling through her.

  But he was not finished touching her, for while he held her against him with one hand, the other traveled down her body, over her thighs, to stroke the inside of first one leg and then the other. His intent was clear, however she could not object for it felt wondrous.

  His fingers moved closer and closer to that place between her legs that now throbbed, tangling in the curls that covered it. Again she breathed the word. “Aye, oh, aye.”

  Ever so slowly, he parted her. What happened next had her nearly jumping from the bed. Pleasure rippled through her like an arrow of ecstasy. She didn’t want him to stop nor did she think she could bear much more.

  Again she twisted and arched against his hand, consumed with a need for more and more of the sensations coursing through her. His lips left her breast and moved back to her mouth and she greedily invited him to explore that cavity. His tongue thrust into her mouth as his fingers began another invasion.

  The linen that originally covered her was pushed aside and he moved, hovering over her while his tongue lashed at her own. Another strange sensation built, centered in that place between her legs. He was above her now, his hand finished with its exploration. Skin touched skin as he lifted her hips toward him and for an instant she realized his own clothing had disappeared. For a fraction of a second, what might be a touch of fear tried to surface, but the pleasure he gave was too great for any other feeling to invade.

  He moved over her and nudged her secret place. The pain was a complete surprise. She cried out. He was entering her, forcing his way into her.

  “Nay,” she demanded, as he filled her. She felt as it she was being stretched apart.

  “Nay,” he muttered. “It can not be.” He stopped all of his movement and stared at her.

  The look of shock on his face said loudly he felt the same pain and was as surprised as she.

  “Who are you?” he whispered then groaned. “I can not stop.”

  He moved, the pain lessened as he thrust again.

  She shoved at him, but he did not move. Instead, he put his hand between her legs where more intense sensation filtered through her, obliterating the ache he had caused. In all honesty, with those feelings growing, she did not want him to stop. She gave up trying to make him leave.

  As the pleasure built, and each stoke of his hand intensified her need, she thought she might explode with it. She was conscious of his rapid movements but she could only concentrate on what was happening to her.

  Of a sudden Milisent did explode. Sensations she never thought to experience sent her above herself, to glide through a sea of immeasurable delight. Somewhere in the distance, she heard a shout but it mattered not.

  How long she hovered, immersed in sensations, she did not know. Eventually she slid back to reality, to where she was, to what had happened.

  She gazed at the man and wondered if she had enough strength left to push him away. More thought was unnecessary for he rolled to his side of the bed and groaned.

  “We must have words,” he slurred.

  “Nay, there is nothing to say,” she muttered. Her situation began to dawn on her. She had allowed the unthinkable. He had taken her virginity while she offered only slight resistance. Nay, she had enjoyed it to the extreme. Her brother would be shamed. She herself would be shamed. Now she could never marry. She would have to insist Gilbert send her to a convent.

  “Aye, we must talk, for obviously you have never lain with a man before. I could not be mistaken about that.”

  “You were not mistaken. I have never been with a man.” She sighed with heartfelt feelings of sadness, knowing this would be the only time she would experience such pleasure.

  “Then you cannot have been mistress to Chelse.”

  She grimaced, remembering Ella’s words. He was not to know that a blood relationship existed between Gilbert and herself. “‘Twas you that said I was mistress to Chelse.”

  “But you are not. ‘Tis a question I must ask. Why were you at Fenton Castle and what did you do there? Ella said you were chatelaine but that position is usually held by a wife. You are not a wife, so who are you?”

  Could she tell the truth? It seemed there was no longer a choice. He knew she was a virgin. She grimaced. Had been a virgin, but no longer. He also knew how she served at Fenton Castle, and if she had been a mistress to anyone in the castle, she would have lost the gift of her virginity only her lawful husband should have claimed.

  “I am kin to Gilbert Mortimore.”

  “How? How are you related?” His words came like the arrows sent into the boar that afternoon.

  “I am sister to him,” she whispered.

  “Sister? Nay, he has no siblings.” He exploded off the bed as if one of those arrows had pierced his hide. “Nay, you can not be!”

  He sank onto the edge of the bed and ran a hand though the golden brown locks she fingered with such pleasure a short time before.

  He stared at her. “Why are you not married? What kind of brother keeps you hidden away and does not introduce you to court, or see you wed
to a member of your class?”

  “It is, ah—involved.” If his purpose was to hold her for ransom, what better gift could she give him then to tell him why Gilbert had hidden her? Nor would she say why she refused to wed the man of his choice.

  The possibility of any marriage was gone now. De Bain would no longer want her. No man would want her now that she had lain with another.

  “It no longer matters,” she said quietly. “I would like to go to my

  own room now,” she added.

  “Nay, you can not. Now I must know why it does not matter and why your, ah—brother has not seen to a union.”

  “I can not tell you.”

  “But you must. If what you say is truth, then I must offer for you. I have my honor to consider as well as yours. I cannot behave as your brother has done.”

  “The same as my brother? Of what do you speak? My brother is a noble in the court of Edward.” She tried to move to the edge of the bed, but he restrained her. “He provided a home for me after my father died,” she continued, “And aye, he is trying to persuade me to wed.”

  “Aye, Ella said something of that sort. But also that you cannot abide the man. I do not understand. No woman can say aye or nay to an order to wed.”

  “‘Tis no concern of yours.”

  “What kind of brother do you have to allow you a say? He loves you that much?”

  She thought he might choke on the word brother and his face twisted with disgust. At that look, a touch of hurt slid through her. She couldn’t understand herself why Gilbert wanted her to wed de Bain, and she had wondered if she was not enough woman to wed to another. Was that why Gilbert insisted she marry that scum de Bain?

  Tears gathered, but she would not let them fall. She had learned over the years, tears showed only weakness and she could not appear weak before this man. With as much control as she could summon, Milisent threw her leg over the edge of the bed and tried to rise. She was going back to the chamber he had assigned to her and Ella. On the morrow, she would demand he take her home to Fenton Castle.

  ~ * ~