Lady's Minstrel

by N. J. Walters

  Lady’s Minstrel

  N.J. Walters

  Alicia was barely a bride before her husband Reys left on Crusade, and she has waited six years for any word on his whereabouts. Without a strong lord, the castle is in a precarious position and it is only a matter of time until the king orders her to remarry or tries to take the keep by force.

  When a mysterious hooded minstrel shows up at the castle, the man’s furtive actions lead Alicia to believe he is a spy. She confronts him—and discovers he is no stranger. Reys is scarred emotionally and physically by his years in a foreign prison. Now both are left wondering if there is a future for them or if the love they once shared is gone forever.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Lady’s Minstrel

  ISBN 9781419935435

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Lady’s Minstrel Copyright © 2011 N.J. Walters

  Edited by Shannon Combs

  Cover design by Syneca

  Photography: Les Byerley

  Electronic book publication September 2011

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  The publisher and author(s) acknowledge the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks, service marks and word marks mentioned in this book.

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  Lady’s Minstrel

  N.J. Walters

  Dedication

  To everyone who believes in the power of love.

  Chapter One

  “He’s been asking questions.” The gruff male voice shattered her moment of peace.

  Alicia sighed and pushed aside the meat pie the cook had prepared as part of the evening meal. It smelled wonderful but she just wasn’t hungry.

  Being responsible for a castle full of people and all those who lived and worked on the surrounding land was a heavy burden. One Alicia shouldered on a daily basis. It was a point of pride to her that she, a woman, had been able to do so, and well. Food was plentiful and the fields were filled with grain and crops ready to be harvested.

  Hawkspoint was also well known for its wool. All the women were involved in the carding, spinning and dying of the wool as well as the weaving. Alicia made sure that they shared in the profits of their labors.

  Once in a while, usually late in the evening, she felt the weight of her responsibilities and longed for a respite, longed for a husband to shoulder the bulk of the burden. It was a weakness, one she fought, but it crept up on her some nights, making her melancholy and leaving her yearning for what she’d had.

  She turned away from her meal and faced the reality behind her. She knew exactly to whom he was referring. “What kinds of questions?”

  Sir William was tall and heavy built. A man of action, he fondled the pommel of the sword strapped to his waist as he spoke. “He spoke with several men in the fields about the harvests, two of my men about the defense of the keep and,” he paused for emphasis, “he asked about the lady of the castle.”

  William had been captain of the guard at Hawkspoint for more than a decade and had been staunch in his support of her since she had become lady here. Though his hair was more gray than black and his face lined with many years of living, his eyes and his wits were as sharp as a man half his age.

  Alicia nodded. This was exactly as she’d feared. She gave voice to her suspicions. “Do you think he’s a spy?” There was always the possibility that the king or some other noble would come skulking around. Without a strong lord to protect it, Hawkspoint was vulnerable to attack and takeover and they all knew it. It was isolated, but it was also profitable.

  “He went to Hawkspoint Abbey.” William leaned closer so as not to be heard by a passing serving wench carrying a jug of ale. “A rider left soon after. Father Edmund confirmed that he himself had written a missive for the man, but he would not reveal the contents.”

  Alicia turned her head and stared at the stranger in question. The melodic sound of his psaltery filled the great hall. It was rare that a traveling minstrel graced the isolated castle of Hawkspoint. Perched on the rugged coastline of Cornwall, away from the well-traveled roads, it was left to its own devices. That independence suited all who lived there just fine.

  Shrouded in a dark cloak that covered him head to foot, the minstrel looked more specter than musician. He was tall, head and shoulders over most, but he kept to the shadows and preferred his own company. He spoke rarely, but when he did, his voice was a painful rasp. One of the serving girls had glimpsed one side of his face and had told all the others that it was scarred and ruined. Alicia wanted to see for herself the face of this man who made such poignant music, but threatened her peace of mind and the security of Hawkspoint.

  The silence was deafening as the last haunting strains of the psaltery died away. Although no words had been sung, the song he coaxed from the strings had been sad and poignant. Alicia shook off her melancholy. She needed her wits about her and she needed to think. The crowd shouted their pleasure but before they could encourage him to play again, Alicia pushed back her chair and bid them all good night, thus bringing an end to the evening.

  “Keep a watch on him, William, and let me know if you learn anything more.”

  He nodded and gave her a short bow before striding toward the fireplace to speak with several of his men.

  She could feel the eyes of her people on her as she made her way across the large expanse of the hall, the keys attached to her girdle jingling and her leather shoes swishing against the rushes strewn across the floor. Conversation resumed as she started up the stairs. Several wall sconces, set with tallow candles, lit her way as she headed up the darkened staircase. She trusted William to keep a watch on the stranger.

  Entering the solar, she closed the heavy wooden door and leaned against it, shutting the world outside her chamber. Fatigue washed over her. It seemed to her as though she was always tired these days. Sleep wasn’t easy to come by. Worries kept her awake and pacing more nights than she cared to remember.

  Alicia crossed to the cheerful fire that crackled and danced in the hearth. Rubbing her hands up and down the arms of her plain green, woolen gown, she tried to warm herself. The dress was one of her best, but it was old and worn thin in spots and had been mended in others. Tonight, she felt as tired and threadbare as her clothes. Both of them had been brighter and newer when they’d come here six years ago. Now, at twenty-three, she was barely a bride and not really a wife, for all that she’d been married almost six years.

  Settling into her chair by the fire, she stared at the fl
ickering flames. It had not always been so. Once she’d been filled with hopes and dreams of happiness. Her marriage had been arranged by her father, as was to be expected, for marriage was a serious affair of alliances and wealth. Alicia had not seen her husband Reys, Baron Warran, Lord of Hawkspoint, until her family and their entourage had arrived at Hawkspoint Abbey for the signing of the wedding documents and the blessing of the union by the church.

  Alicia rubbed her fingers over the gold band that adorned her left hand, a symbol of her authority here. The weight of it was as heavy as the responsibilities that lay on her shoulders. Hawkspoint was a small, but self-sufficient estate. The land was fertile and good for farming and raising sheep. The surrounding land provided fresh meat, firewood, wild berries and herbs. The bounty from the sea was equally as plentiful.

  Her husband Reys had been kind and patient with his eighteen-year-old bride. Alicia gave a little laugh as she remembered her wedding night. She had been led away from the marriage feast by the older women, stripped naked and put in a thin sleeping gown before being herded into the lord’s large bed. She had felt lost in the huge bed and tucked herself away in the corner with the covers pulled tight to her chin. The women had been laughing at her and joking about the night ahead when Reys had entered the chamber…

  Reys glanced at his new bride cowering in the corner of his bed and swept the group of women with a fierce scowl. “Out!” he thundered, his voice rattling the precious panes of glass set in the window.

  The women all hurried from the room. Reys waited until the last one left before slamming the door and throwing the bolt on the door.

  Alicia was afraid to move lest she’d draw her new husband’s temper her way. She was used to the men in her family, particularly her father, who were quick to cuff her when they were angry at something. So she stayed very still and quiet, wishing she were braver.

  Reys was a massive man with incredibly wide shoulders and huge hands. He was handsome with his long black hair and his piercing blue eyes. His jaw bespoke of stubbornness but, from what she’d observed these past days, he was a man who thought before he spoke.

  He strode to the table where a jug of wine sat and poured some in a cup. Taking a deep breath as though to settle his temper, he picked up the cup and came to stand beside the bed.

  “Drink this.” He held the wine out to her. “It will help calm you.”

  He said nothing more, but stood there waiting for her to accept the cup from him. Her fingers shook but she reached out and took the wine. She even managed to get it to her mouth and take a sip without spilling it. Reys nodded his approval, so she took another sip.

  His lips turned up in a gentle smile and she stilled, the cup still pressed to her lips. He was devastatingly handsome when he smiled. And she was ordinary. Where he was as fierce as his namesake, she was a small wren with brown hair and brown eyes. She wasn’t tall and willowy, but short and rounded. Her skin was her best feature as it was smooth and unmarred by blemishes. Still, she had to wonder if he was disappointed by the way she looked.

  Her nerves came back full force and he didn’t help matters when he turned and walked around to the other side of the bed, tugging off his tunic as he went. He removed a knife from the sheath at his waist and placed it on a table beside the bed. Then he pulled off his boots and the rest of his clothing.

  She closed her eyes, half afraid to watch. But curiosity got the better of her and she peeked. Naked, he appeared even larger than when he was fully clothed. His legs were as thick as tree trunks, his arms heavily roped with muscle. His chest was broad and lightly furred. Her gaze dropped, following the thin line of hair that bisected his stomach.

  Alicia swallowed and almost choked on the wine. He was fully aroused, his cock long and thick. The bulbous head was darker than the shaft and reminded her of a ripe plum. This would never work. He was much too big.

  Reys climbed onto the bed beside her, ignoring the way she jumped as his thigh touched hers. He took the wine from her and set it on the table beside the knife.

  Carefully, he had framed her face in his hands, his blue eyes staring hard into hers. “I will never hurt you in anger, Alicia. You are my wife and the mother of my future children and I will always respect that and care for you.”

  Then he kissed her.

  His mouth touched hers gently. He tasted of wine and man, a heady brew. His tongue stroked along the seam of her mouth, tasting and teasing. “Open for me, sweet Alicia.”

  Unable to deny him, she did as he asked. His tongue snaked inside and touched hers. The sensation made her breasts tingle and started an ache low in her belly. Wanting to touch him, she raised her hand and placed it on his cheek. He smiled and deepened the kiss.

  Heat suffused her, leaving her feeling restless, wanting more. She let her hand slip from his face, down the strong column of his neck to his chest. His heart pounded against her palm as she delighted in the play of muscle beneath his skin.

  He pulled away from her and touched her cheek. “Let’s get this off you.” He tugged on the hem of her thin chemise. She clutched at the front of the garment as he drew it over her knees, his fingers brushing the insides of her thighs.

  The ache between her legs intensified and she felt wet in her most private area. Uncertainty filled her. What should she do?

  The gown was at the tops of her thighs now. Reys paused and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was quickly followed by a gasp as he touched her between her thighs.

  “You’re already wet for me.” She could hear the pleasure in his voice as he pushed his hand deeper between her thighs and touched the slick folds of her cleft. “Do you like this, my sweet?”

  Before she could even think to answer, he probed at her opening, gently inserting one thick finger. Alicia couldn’t contain the moan of pleasure that broke from her lips. What he was doing was amazing.

  He smiled and removed his hand. Grasping the ends of her chemise, he pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. Totally naked, she lay beside him, all her shortcomings revealed. Her insecurity grew the longer he stared at her. Instinct had her raising her hands to cover her breasts.

  “No.” He captured her hands in his and laid them flat against the bed. “Don’t cover yourself. You belong to me now. Every delectable inch of you.”

  Leaning down, he dragged his tongue over one of her nipples. The bud tightened and elongated. She shifted her legs, restless and aching.

  “So responsive,” he muttered as he captured her nipple between his lips and suckled.

  Her entire body bowed off the mattress. Pleasure, unlike anything she’d ever experienced, enveloped her. Surely anything that felt this good must be wrong. She didn’t realize she’d spoken her thoughts aloud until he spoke.

  “We are man and wife in the eyes of God. Nothing that happens between us is wrong.”

  He trailed a hand down her rib cage. She caught her breath as he continued lower, sifting his fingers through the brown thatch of curly hair that covered her mound. She wanted him to stroke her there again. Raising her hips, she sought his touch.

  Releasing her breast, he left a path of hot, wet kisses on her stomach as he settled between her thighs. She tried to close her legs, but his broad shoulders held them apart. He was looking at her now, no secrets between them.

  “Your cunt is hot and wet and perfectly pink. Like a rose blossoming in summertime.”

  She felt her cheeks heat, but stopped trying to close her legs. His words made her want to open them wider, give him whatever he wanted.

  “Reys!” She cried his name as he touched her with his tongue, circling the hard nub at the apex of her thighs. Liquid seeped from her core.

  “Mmm,” he responded. “Give me your cream.” He lapped at her folds. “You taste sweet, like honey.”

  Alicia was panting hard now, finding it difficult to breath. Her skin was flush, her long, brown hair tangled around her as her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow. Reys licked at her cunt, parting the fol
ds with his fingers before slipping one inside. He pushed into her.

  Raising his head, he stared up at her from between her spread thighs. “Your maidenhood is strong. It will hurt some when I breech it.”

  “It is supposed to hurt,” she gasped. Her mother was dead, but her nursemaid and companion, Greta, had explained to her what would happen. At this point she didn’t care if it hurt. She was poised on the edge of something. Something wonderful, but it was just beyond her grasp.

  Reys smiled and inserted a second finger. Alicia moaned as the sensation, part pain, part pleasure, spiraled higher. He slowly slid his fingers back to the opening of her cunt. She squirmed, crying out, not wanting to lose his touch.

  He shoved them back in. Deep and hard. Lowering his head again, he lapped at the sensitive bud of nerves as he continued to work her with his fingers. Her breasts ached so she covered them with her hands.

  “Touch yourself,” he encouraged her. “Feel your nipples tighten beneath your fingers. See how they pucker with need.”

  Past all embarrassment, she did as he instructed. “Ooh,” she moaned as she took each berry-red nipple between her thumb and forefingers and squeezed. Her hips bucked.

  “Reys,” she whimpered. She felt as though she was sick with a fever, hot and slightly delirious.

  “Come for me,” he ordered, plunging his fingers into her hot, warm core again and again.

  She wasn’t quite certain what he expected her to do. The heat inside her was gathering in her core until she thought she was going to explode. Then she did. Crying out, she let go. Her sheath clenched his fingers as cream slipped from her core. Heat filled her, leaving her feeling weak and strong at the same time. Her arms and legs quivered until finally she sank back into the mattress. Replete.