Windsong

by Allison Knight

Alwyn sensed her intent to flee before she had her feet on the floor. “Nay,” he commanded. “You will sleep here. I will not have you leave this room at this time of night.”

  Her expression was an angry one, but he gave it no import.

  “You cannot sleep with me,” she snapped.

  “Nor do I intend to do so.” He jerked his braise and kirtle from the floor. When he was clothed he started for the door. “I will gain my rest in the solar. Stay where you are.”

  He was afraid she might choose to argue, but no words passed her lips. “Good,” he muttered, grabbed a fur resting on the trunk and slammed out of the room, stepping over the servant stretched out next to the door. He stomped into the solar, discarded the fur beside the door and threw himself into a chair.

  “What possessed me? She was not for me and I knew it.”

  Of course there was no answer. He scowled. What kind of revenge

  would Chelse seek? Could he persuade Edward to stripe him of his home or his care of the King’s forest? He swallowed with difficulty. No one bedded a respected baron’s sister. Nor would he be the only one to suffer for his actions this night. It would surely bring the wrath of Edward down on his whole family.

  She had been a temptation. And like an untried youth, he succumbed. Had desire overwhelmed him?

  Aye, it had, and he could no more wish this night away for all the gold in the kingdom. Nor would wedding her be a sacrifice for him. But for her? Aye, it would be. Although it should not have happened, he would not change the course of the night if he could. Both of them needed a reaffirmation of life after what occurred in the forest this afternoon.

  Alwyn frowned in disgust as he realized he was making excuses for himself. He would have to forget his revenge, be satisfied with the damage he had done in his raid of the castle.

  And somehow, he had to convince her to tell him why she had a say in a choice of husband. Marriages were arranged and had nothing to do with choice for the woman who was wed to further property, or status, or wealth. Sometimes peasants were offered a choice but not often. Nor could he remember hearing of any woman who said aye or nay to a union.

  There had to be a reason, but what could it be? Mayhap Ella would have the right of it. He would quiz her on the morrow. He remembered her words when she said Milisent had left Throlse. “De Bain will kill her.” He could understand why she didn’t want the union, but if her brother loved her, why hadn’t he selected another?

  A thought arose unbidden. Mayhap Edward had made the choice. Again he remembered what occurred when another baron stole the wife of a lesser baron. Edward had been upset enough to send his own priest to the thief. The priest was assigned as penance and insisted the man release the wife to her husband. Unfortunately the priest had been waylaid by brigands and never arrived. In time, the woman was released but Edward was little concerned with her and most unhappy the priest had met with such treatment. After all, the woman had been a wife to a lesser baron. The priest had been a personal friend.

  Of course, Chelse was not a lesser baron. Was it possible Edward had chosen de Bain to husband Milisent? Nay, neither woman had thrown such a fact into his face. He sighed with relief and grinned for the first time all day. If Edward named de Bain Milisent’s husband, both women would have been quick to tell him.

  That then was not a worry. Could it be that Edward had no knowledge of this sister? That hardly seemed possible. Yet, as he examined the facts, it was the only thing that made sense of the situation. He was certain no one in court knew about Milisent. But why?

  Alwyn stared at the rug gracing the floor and muttered a curse. If

  indeed Edward was involved, he was in great trouble. However, if Edward had no knowledge, mayhap Chelse would suffer. That thought pleased him as nothing else could.

  He grabbed the fur, spread it out on the floor and rolled into it. Sleep would be difficult that night, even without the rolling thunder and the hard winter wind that buffeted his home, for wondering thoughts battered his mind.

  The next morning, as another weak sun struggled to break through the gloom of the day, Alwyn struggled from the floor, aware he had only dozed off and on through the night. He had to rise for Arvel would be preparing to leave soon and he needed to see his brother off with a warning.

  The thought of confessing his transgression did not sit well, but this might affect the whole of the family.

  He did not get a chance to explain, for Arvel was already mounted, ready to leave when Alwyn appeared.

  “Do not wait too long to visit your sister, for she will have questions aplenty,” Arvel said and raised his hand in farewell.

  “Wait,” Alwyn shouted.

  Arvel shook his head and gestured for the men who had accompanied him to move toward the path leading away from Throsle. “Nay,” he shouted. “The weather looks as threatening today as yesterday. I would be off. Save your words for another time. Give my words about providing direction for your people and home some thought.” He rode away leaving Alwyn on the steps of the courtyard entrance.

  After he broke his fast, Alwyn watched his people stumble about the hall. None seemed to have a reason to do what needed to be done. Arvel had the right of it, for they moved without direction. Rhys had originally assumed the role of steward, but when Sybil arrived, he had turned many of his household duties over to her.

  The servants seemed unwillingly to follow Rhys’ commands. Could it be that his man was not skilled in caring for a household, which had grown large? Someone else had to take the position of chatelaine because food was left on the tables and in one corner two maids fought over a fur left on the floor by one of the men.

  It was time he did something about the chaos in the hall, mayhap the whole of the house. If what Ella and Arvel said was truth, then Milisent could indeed make sense over the disorder.

  He sent one of the maids to summon Ella.

  “We must talk.”

  She seemed appalled at his command but before he could gather his thoughts she accused, “Where is my lady and what did you do to her?”

  His face felt as if it had been too close to a flame. He had a feeling Milisent would tell Ella the whole of it, but not yet. And he had no intention of admitting his sin to her. Instead he wanted to postpone her questions and

  seek the advice he needed.

  “Tell me!”

  She would not let it be. He could at least say where he spent the night. “She sleeps in my room, and I slept in the solar.”

  Ella opened her mouth, then paused.

  “I need to know the extent of Milisent’s duties at Fenton Castle,” he blurted before she could question him more.

  “Oh,” Ella muttered. “‘Tis what you want to know?”

  “Aye. This hall, indeed the house, needs direction. Arvel said you claimed she served as chatelaine for Chelse.”

  “Aye, she cared for the house, indeed much of the castle expenses. She was chatelaine and steward for Fenton for Chelse was not present much of the time. He was satisfied with her skills. There was a steward but the man let Milisent do much of the work and Chelse did not object.”

  “She can cipher?” He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

  Ella laughed. “That and more. She learned much in her time fostered and Chelse provided a tutor for her when she returned to Fenton. She has more education than our priest.”

  Alwyn shook his head. Women were not given an education, even if her brother was a baron in the service of the king.

  “Then she should have no trouble directing this household.”

  Ella straightened and glared at him. “‘Tis a better job she will do than Sybil, for a certain. But, she cannot direct your household dressed like a laundress.”

  “Aye, this is so. Summon the seamstress and her helpers. A wardrobe will be provided.”

  “I would like to see Milisent now.”

  “She is still abed. After yesterday, she needs to rest. Gather the women and see about a wardrobe. You can see
her later this day.”

  She glared at him and left in a huff.

  He scratched his head and wondered how much counsel Chelse exerted over his own household. It would appear Milisent and her lady’s maid did much as they pleased.

  NINE

  By mid-afternoon, it was clear Milisent had told Ella the whole of it, for she glared at him as if he was the devil incarnate. When he looked at Milisent a dark stain of red colored her cheeks. Even Rhys commented on the change in her appearance and knew immediately that she had been bedded.

  “Is she to occupy your bed?”

  “Aye. Nay, I do not know. Ella has spoken to you?”

  Rhys looked as glum as Alwyn felt. “Aye and she said Chelse is brother to Milisent. If what they say is truth Edward may punish you, mayhap even your family.” He grimaced. “What will you do? Take her back to Fenton?”

  Alwyn pondered the question then shook his head. “For a time, she will stay here. Then, we will see.”

  “Alwyn, listen to me.” Rhys leaned toward him. “You can not keep her here. You put all of us in danger. Edward will seek vengeance for what you have done. Chelse is one of his men.”

  “I know,” Alwyn said.

  As much as he hesitated talking to her, he had to determine if Milisent would willingly see to his household because he was not ready to release her from his care. Not yet.

  He cornered her before she retired for the night. “I would know.” He held her arm so she could not retreat. “Would you consider seeing to the organization and care of Throsle? It needs the hand of someone knowledgeable in the running of a home.”

  She yanked her arm from his grasp and nodded. “Aye, I will see to that task.” She glared at him. “Not for you, but for my concern for your people. Without direction they argue among themselves and disputes will follow. Some will end up doing all the work. So, for them I will undertake the task.” She gave him another cold stare as she stomped away.

  Days passed, Milisent had a wardrobe of several gowns and she saw to the affairs of the hall with an ease that amazed him. Order had quickly been restored, Ella and Rhys appeared to have accepted the situation and the servants took Milisent’s direction with respect. There was only one problem

  and it was becoming a major one.

  His hunger for her grew with every day. He wanted to take her to his chamber and sink into the velvet channel of her body. The arguments he had with himself continued day and night.

  Whenever he entered the hall, if she was close at hand, she blushed and hurried to another part of the house. If he asked about her needs, she would stare at him for a time before she answered. If he requested her presence at a meal, she would stutter through a reason why she did not have the time. However, he would often catch her following his movements just as he found himself watching her.

  Could it be she wanted him as much as he wanted her?

  ~ * ~

  Since Milisent assumed management of the servants, the house had taken on an energy that surprised even her. Alwyn’s people appeared to be so grateful for a firm and fair hand they were willing to undertake any task, no matter how unpleasant it might be considered.

  She smoothed the skirt of her new blue gown and tried to contain her smile. Over the last several days, a different kind of happiness played at the edges of her mind. She was almost content. There was no other word to describe her feelings. She had no worry one of the soldiers in Alwyn’s employ would attempt to subject her to lewd comments or leering looks that she had suffered at Fenton. No visitors arrived at Throlse who forced to her find a place to hide. And though she missed her companion’s company she kept busy with the house.

  Still the satisfaction she felt troubled her overmuch. Some of the time she could push it to the back of her mind but then Alwyn would appear. Unwanted sensations rushed to the fore, causing a desire she did not want to name.

  If he chanced to brush by her in passing, chills accompanied his touch, and time and again, when he was present, she would catch him watching her. Embarrassment followed for her breasts would feel heavy and that place between her legs would grow hot and ache with a new sensation she did not want to acknowledge.

  Ella was too busy with Rhys to comment on the many blushes Milisent knew she suffered, and for that Milisent was grateful. She did see one or two of the older servants nod with understanding. Even cook had given her a sly smile on one occasion but no one bothered to comment.

  The few times Alwyn sought her out to question her about household needs, his close presence caused even more disturbing feelings. She often lost her train of thought and his query fell on deaf ears as the temptation of his mouth drew her eyes and closed her hearing. Once, she caught herself wondering what he would do if she dragged his head to hers and placed her lips on his. Would he push her away? That thought was what made her

  withhold any action.

  The management of the house had been her responsibility for six days when another storm descended late in the afternoon, this worse than the one before. The wind whistled through the fireplace stirring spent ashes through the hall and sending the heavy tapestries slapping against the walls. Servants rushed around, securing anything out of place. At one point, the house shook with the force of the wind. Darkness pierced what was left of daylight and even the torches in the hall sputtered with the howling winds.

  Rain pelted the windows and for a time, she expected broken glass to litter the floor. Through the darkness flashes of lightning offered a glimpse of devastation as trees bowed before the rage of the storm. Thunder roared and for the first time since her kidnapping she felt afraid.

  Milisent admitted the need to feel safe, sheltered in the arms of a man, a special man. She wanted Alwyn with a need that shook her to the core, even more than the streaks of fire cutting across the sky or the endless crashes ringing through the house.

  As if he understood her desire, he appeared at her side. “Do not be afraid,” he whispered. “This will pass soon enough.”

  She nodded for speaking was not possible. Without a thought she moved closer. For some reason, she felt secure in the knowledge he offered protection from this kind of storm. Another storm however was building in her and she lifted her face, hoping he would know her thoughts without her having to say the words.

  “The solar. You will be more comfortable there. This storm will not bother as much there.” He pointed her in the direction of the stairs. She paused for a moment before she scurried away, up the stairs refusing to question why she obeyed his command.

  Time stood still as she stood in the center of the room, the sound of the rain and thunder echoing around her. Somehow Milisent knew he would join her. Chills raced through her along with an anticipation she wanted to deny. But denial was not possible. She refused to lie to herself. He made her feel safe, wanted, and desirable, and she needed that now. She needed him now.

  The door to the solar opened and he stood there, drenched with the rain.

  “You went outside?”

  He nodded. “Aye, there was much to see to, but all is secure. How do you fare?”

  “It is better here.”

  He approached and her stomach dropped as her heart beat faster. What she wanted was another kiss. Nay, she wanted more than that. She wanted to be held, caressed, loved.

  A lump formed in her throat and guilt whispered through her. She had become consumed with lust. How could she want him to do those things to her body? Yet she did! She wanted it with everything in her, in spite of the guilt. She stepped toward him.

  “Come,” he murmured and led her to his chamber. From the sounds below, not a soul lingered in the hall. However, any thought about the others at Throsle faded as quickly as they came. All that existed was the man before her.

  Once they gained his chamber, he reached for her and she gloried in his need. He was going to hold her, kiss her, caress her. She knew it.

  She sighed with pleasure tilting her head toward him. Should she ask him to kiss her? Before
the question was fully formed in her mind, his lips were pressed against hers. She opened her mouth with a gasp, and he plunged forward, playing with her, imitating the thrust and withdrawal of the act itself. Aye, this was what she wanted, needed.

  As the storm increased outside so did her anticipation inside. The rumbling thunder rolled through her in consort with the beat of her heart, the streaks of lightning a prelude to the sensations she had once before experienced. Hesitantly, she stroked his neck, fingering his silky hair, and returning the play of his tongue.

  He pulled away from the kiss and she groaned. Nay, ‘twas not going to end here, was it?

  “I must have you,” he murmured into her hair.

  “Aye,” she whispered back, ashamed of the desire thrumming through her with the same strength as the storm tearing through the night. Before she lost her courage, she lifted her hands to draw his face back to hers, so she could initiate the kisses she did not want to end.

  “You are wet. You must remove your kirtle.” She said the words but could not believe she had been bold enough to utter them.

  “And, I have wet you also. Your gown must be removed.”

  She tugged at his garment, surprised at the ease with which it slipped from his body. She loosed her girdle and held out her arms, nodding as he reached for the hem of her gown. Next came her smock, and she stood before him with only her hose and her wimple.

  Before she could draw another breath, she was in his arms and he was moving toward his bed.

  “Tonight,” he whispered, “I will take my time. I want to kiss every inch of you. Will you allow such a privilege?”

  Speech was not possible. All she could do was nod. She could think of nothing but what was to follow. Would he do all the things he had done that first time?

  Before she had a chance to ask, the rest of his clothing was gone and he was beside her. The storm could have taken the roof from the house, but she would not have known, for she waited with bated breath as he covered her lips with his and slid his hands over her shoulders, her upper arms. She twisted, trying to get him to touch her breasts.