Hellion

by Bertrice Small

  “What difference does the wing size make?” Belle inquired, anxious to learn what she could so she would not seem too ignorant in her husband’s eyes. The ladies of the court among whom Hugh was raised certainly must know more than she.

  “The long-winged birds hunt in the open, in the fields, over the marshes and the water. The short-winged birds are better suited to the woodlands, where the long-winged hawks are at a distinct disadvantage amid the trees, where they cannot swoop and soar,” Rolf explained. He smiled at his stepdaughter. “Do not be afraid to ask Hugh about his birds. He will be delighted in your interest.”

  “He has promised me a merlin,” she said.

  “I would have thought a sparrow hawk more suitable for a lady,” Rolf considered aloud. “Perhaps if your mother desires a bird, I shall choose one of them for her. It might take her mind off her roiling belly.”

  Isabelle flushed and turned away from Rolf de Briard. The thought of her mother quickening with child was embarrassing, and an indictment to her own barrenness. How could Alette have gotten herself in such a state, and so quickly, when she, younger and surely more fertile, had not been able to prove her worth to her husband? What was the matter with her?

  “Will Hugh teach me to hunt with my bird, do you think?” Isabelle asked him. “I have never had a hunting bird.”

  “Of course,” Rolf assured her. “He will want you to be a good huntress, Belle, for you will surely help him show off his falcons to those noblemen who come to him for hunting birds.”

  Isabelle suddenly laughed. “Poor Rolf,” she teased him. “You shall have to spend the summertime overseeing Langston while Hugh and I idle away our days hunting with his birds. Perhaps we shall ask you to join us now and again if everything is in order here.”

  Rolf chuckled. “I should appreciate that, my lady daughter,” he replied. Hugh was right, he thought to himself. Isabelle of Langston was a little hellion, but he suspected she had never in her entire life been so free of responsibility as she was now. It did his heart good to see her happy, for he knew if that was so, then his friend, Hugh, would be happy also.

  The lord of Langston returned toward midafternoon; a lad who lived at the far end of the estate in the direction from which Hugh came ran ahead, announcing the master’s return. It was a slow traverse to the keep, as he traveled with a small caravan of carts, each covered by an arch of canvas and drawn by small, shaggy ponies. Hugh rode at the head of the procession, mounted upon his great horse, a large white bird upon his arm. The creature was hooded.

  Isabelle stared. “What is it?” she asked Rolf.

  “It is a gyrfalcon,” he told her.

  “She is magnificent,” Isabelle said admiringly.

  Hugh drew his stallion to a halt beside Belle. Immediately, a young man dashed from the group of travelers to take the gyrfalcon from him. Hugh swung a leg over his saddle and slipped easily to the ground.

  “Welcome home, my lord,” Belle said, her voice suddenly breathy.

  A slow smile that began in his eyes lit his plain face. “Madame,” he responded. Nothing more. There was no need for words between them. Bending, he kissed her in a leisurely fashion until, blushing, Belle broke from his embrace, scolding him, but gently.

  “My lord! It is unseemly that you kiss me so before all!” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes unnaturally bright.

  Hugh grinned at the halfhearted rebuke. “I am ravenous after my travels, my lady wife,” he said, and his blue eyes twinkled.

  “The meal is ready when you are, my lord,” she replied primly.

  “My hunger is for other than food,” he murmured low, so that only she might hear. Then, turning away, he began giving orders to the three falconers who had accompanied him. “Take them to the mews, my lads. See them fed, watered, and unhooded. I want them familiar with their surroundings as quickly as possible. Rolf, was the mews constructed to your satisfaction?”

  “Yes, my lord, although eventually I should like to see it all of stone. Built of wood, the mews are vulnerable,” the steward responded.

  Hugh nodded. “Once the king is firmly settled, we shall send to Northamptonshire for stone, as did Belle’s father when he built this keep. I see construction has begun on the church.”

  “And the priest’s house as well, my lord,” Rolf said.

  “I told Father Bernard he might live in the keep,” Hugh answered.

  “The lady Isabelle will explain everything that has happened in your absence, but for one thing which I must tell you. Alette became my wife two days ago. She is quickening with my child.”

  A broad, sweet smile lit Hugh’s face, and he grasped his friend by the hand, shaking it heartily. “Wonderful! How did this all come about, Rolf? Are you happy? Of course you’re happy!” Hugh laughed.

  Rolf grinned back. “My stepdaughter will tell you all.”

  “We shall need a great deal of stone,” Hugh considered. “You must have your own dwelling within the keep.”

  “So my lady Isabelle has promised,” Rolf explained.

  Hugh shook his head. “By the Blessed Mother, Rolf, do you realize that but six months ago we were both poor knights with little hope of little more than we had? Now look at us! Husbands, and you to be a father.”

  “And you the lord of Langston, in full possession of the lands that once belonged to your father’s family,” Rolf concluded. “Aye, I am amazed by it all myself, my lord. Were it not for your generosity, I should yet be a poor knight in the service of the king instead of the steward upon these rich lands.”

  “Come,” Hugh said, embarrassed by his friend’s gratefulness, “you have not yet met my falconers. They are young lads, but saw the chance for opportunity here with me as opposed to remaining with Grandfather’s household where they were but three of over twenty falconers, and the others about them all in seniority. Alain, Faer, Lind, to me!” he called the trio, who were carefully unloading the covered cages.

  Placing their burdens in the mews, the three young men came to stand respectfully before their master. They were freedmen, not serfs. As long as the Merlin-sone family had bred and trained hunting hawks, their families had been falconers. The three were of medium height and build. All were brown-haired, but each had different-colored eyes.

  “Come, lads,” Hugh said, “and meet Rolf de Briard, my oldest friend, who is the steward here at Langston. Rolf, this is Alain, Faer, and Lind, the best young falconers in my grandfather’s house.”

  The three flushed and shuffled their feet as they nodded their-heads in acknowledgment of their steward. “We will see just how good we are, my lord, when we have trained this new bunch we’ve brought with us,” Alain, the spokesman for the trio, said.

  “Come to the hall when you’ve settled the birds,” Hugh told them, and then he and Rolf hurried up the steps into the keep.

  “Welcome home, my lord!” he was greeted half a dozen times over by his smiling servants, and Hugh felt a great warmth suffuse his soul. Home. Aye, Langston really was his home. He could have sworn he actually felt the stones in the building greeting him with gladness.

  “God be praised for your safe journey and return, my lord,” the priest said, saluting him.

  “You have been busy, good father, I am told, since my departure,” Hugh answered, tossing his cloak to a servant and taking up a goblet of wine from another. “Rolf tells me you have performed a marriage.”

  The priest beamed. “Indeed, I did, my lord.”

  “And just how did it all come about, good father?”

  “That,” the priest told him with another smile, “must be the lady Isabelle’s tale. She is very clever, your lady wife.”

  “Most clever,” Hugh agreed, “for she greeted me at the barbican, and has now disappeared.” He looked about the hall, but there was no sight or sign of Belle.

  “Welcome home, my lord,” his mother-in-law addressed him. “We are relieved to have you back.”

  Hugh took up both of Alette’s small hands in his. “I
thank you, madame, and I tender my congratulations to you upon your marriage.”

  Alette laughed softly, a becoming rose color staining her cheeks. “My lord, I thank you,” she responded, her adoring look going to her husband.

  “I am happy for you,” Hugh continued, “although you were at times more recalcitrant in the matter than I have ever seen your daughter. Where is my lady wife? I have not seen her since my arrival.”

  “She is preparing your bath for you, my lord, for she realized you will be dirty and dusty from the road,” Alette said.

  “Belle has finally learned the art of the bath?” He was surprised.

  “She has tried,” Alette said, laughing.

  Hugh turned about and hurried to the bathing chamber, eager for the delights that awaited him. Since that time several months ago when Alette had attempted to teach her daughter how to bathe a guest, Isabelle had refused to have anything to do with such labor. He was curious to learn what had changed her mind in the matter.

  “Do not dally, my lord,” she told him sharply as he entered the bathing room. “The water is nicely hot, and it will soon be time for the meal. Quickly, remove your garments!”

  They were alone in the bath.

  “What, madame? Is it not your duty to help me off with my clothing?” he demanded, seating himself upon a stool. “Come, assist me with my boots, Belle.” He looked to her, eyes dancing with amusement.

  “Are you such a child, then,” Belle grumbled, but she came and pulled his boots off his big feet.

  Reaching out, Hugh tumbled her into his lap, kissing her soundly. A hand slid swiftly up her skirts, stroking the soft inside of her thigh.

  Belle sighed, the sound one of pleasure. Then struggling up, she smacked him playfully. “My lord!” She was a picture of perfect outrage. “This is not the time for such folderol. Stand up!” She yanked his tunic over his head, laying it aside. Beneath he wore only a linen sherte, for the weather was warm. Unlacing it, she drew it off of him, too. “Take your own braies off,” she ordered him. “I must see to the bathwater. It is probably cold at this point.” Her cheeks were flushed. Was it the heat or the state of his sex, very visible and obviously eager, beneath his drawers?

  Hugh slipped out of the remainder of his garments while Belle made a great show of testing the bathwater, adding a bit of scented oil, choosing the correct soap pot, gathering her washing cloths and brush.

  “Get in! Get in!” She gestured at him with an impatient hand.

  Hugh mounted the stone steps and climbed into the big tub. “Ahhhh,” he moaned as the hot water immediately began to ease his aching muscles, for he had been riding for several days. He slid deeper into the water. “Ahh, ma Belle, this is heaven. You must come and join me, chérie. I have missed you.”

  “Do not be ridiculous,” Isabelle said primly. “Now, behave yourself, my lord, and let me do my duty.” She picked up a cloth.

  “But can you not do it better in here with me?” he teased her.

  She glared at him, muttering about the foolishness of men; shrieking with complete surprise as he reached out, dragging her down into the tub with him. “Hugh! You have gone mad!” She struggled to arise, but his arms wrapped themselves about her. “Let me go, you great oaf! The water will shrink my gown! Let me go!”

  “Take your clothing off, ma Belle douce,” he crooned at her. Then his fingers began loosening her skirts, sliding them off her, tossing them in a sodden heap upon the floor. “Your tunic, madame,” he ordered her, helping her to get the soaking garment off to join the skirts. Unlacing her chemise, he flung it across the room. Fortunately, she wore no shoes in the bathing chamber, and her braid was pinned up. “Now, madame,” he growled at her, “I would have the warm welcome from you that you earlier denied me.” His mouth descended bruisingly upon hers.

  Belle’s head spun with delight. Ohh, how she missed him! Cradled in his lap in the tub, she could feel his manhood, stone hard, eager for her. One arm cradled her while his other hand played with her own burgeoning little sex, his fingers pushing into her creaminess while she moaned against his lips.

  “Have you missed me, ma Belle?” he murmured against her mouth. The fingers pushed deep and rhythmically inside her.

  “I … hardly noticed your … absence, my lord. There … was much to … do,” Belle fibbed, and then she shuddered with her first release.

  Hugh lifted her slightly, turning her to face him, and lowered her onto his own raging weapon, groaning as she sheathed him. “You lie,” he said through gritted teeth, his big hands cupping her taut buttocks.

  She slipped her arm about his neck, riding him smoothly while his lips moved slowly, deliberately, over her straining throat, across her swelling breasts with their aching nipples. “You’re a wicked man, Hugh Fauconier,” she purred at him. “Ahhh! Ohhhhh!” she moaned, her eyes closing as he released his passion into her, filling her full. Belle fell forward onto his shoulder as Hugh’s arms embraced her. They lay that way, sated and contented, for some minutes, and then Belle opened her eyes with a start.

  “Oh, Holy Mother!” she gasped. “They won’t sit down to the meal in the hall until we come. How long have we been like this?” She scrambled from the tub, the water sluicing down her lush body, causing his lust to renew itself. “Wash yourself quickly, my lord,” she said, flinging a cloth at him. “I must hurry to dress, and I shall bring your fresh clothes to you. Oh, hurry!”

  In the hall they heard him laughing, and when the lord and lady of the manor appeared after some minutes, no one dared to mention that Isabelle was wearing different garments. The servants began trouping in from the kitchens below, carrying dishes from which arose delicious odors. At the high board they were offered broiled river perch caught that same afternoon, roasted duck, venison pie, broiled rabbit, a thick vegetable pottage, peas, bread, butter, and cheese. Both wine and ale were offered to those at the high board. Below the salt, however, the menu was less lavish. There was salted fish, broiled rabbit, a pottage, bread, and cheese. There was plenty of food, for Isabelle would not stint their retainers, and the ale flowed freely.

  Hugh ate with gusto, as did Belle, but both were anxious to retire to the solar to feed the lust they had just barely stoked in the bathing chamber. Each cast surreptitious glances at the other, their eyes moving guiltily away when they met. Their hands touched and they started, laughing nervously. Patiently, they waited for the servants to clear the dishes away. Two young serfs came into the hall, one with a drum, the other with a reed instrument. They began to play softly by the fire. When Rolf drolly suggested to Hugh that they play a board game, Langston’s lord arose, stretching and yawning with much show.

  “I’ve ridden long and hard these past days,” he said. “I think I shall find my bed now. Isabelle, will you come, too, or remain in the hall entertaining your mother and stepfather?”

  “Ohh, I’m very tired, too,” Belle said, jumping up and hurrying after her husband.

  Rolf chuckled wickedly. “Hugh will ride a good deal more before the dawn, I think; and Belle be twice as tired before the sun rises.”

  “You are very naughty, my lord,” Alette chided him, laughing.

  “I must hang my garments up to dry,” Belle said as they entered the solar. “I have not so many gowns that I can be wasteful.”

  “Hurry!” he commanded her, and when she joined him, said, “You have kept me waiting, ma Belle. You must be punished,” and turning her over his knee, he spanked her bare bottom twice before turning her back again to kiss her.

  Belle only laughed at him. “You will have to toughen your hand in brine, my lord, if you truly mean to chastise me,” she teased him. “Those were but love taps you just gave me.” She wiggled her bottom provocatively in his lap, feeling his instant response.

  Standing up, he tossed her onto their bed and flung himself atop her, pinioning her beneath him. “Hellion,” he growled in her ear. “Shall I never tame you?”

  “No,” she laughed again, “you shall
not! A tame little wife would quickly bore you, Hugh Fauconier. I am not one of your little birds, to be wheedled into obedience, nor would you want me that way.”

  “I am not so certain it is a wise thing that you know me so well, ma Belle douce,” he told her.

  She slipped her arms about his neck and drew his mouth down to hers. “A wife should know her lord,” she murmured low against his mouth. Then she nibbled gently upon his lower lip. “How can she please him if she knows him not?” Her hand ruffled through his tawny gold hair.

  “Do you want to please me, ma Belle?” he half groaned. She was driving him wild with desire. The luxurious feeling of her firm young breasts against his bare chest was wonderful. The nipples stabbing him were like sharp little stones. Shifting himself, he fastened his mouth over one and began to suckle strongly upon it.

  Lightning forked through her body at the insistent tug of his lips. She almost purred with the pleasure he was giving her.

  He lifted his head a moment, his eyes meeting hers. Then he repeated his question. “Do you want to please me, ma Belle?” His mouth found her other breast and he bit gently down on it.

  “Ahhh,” she cried low. The slightly painful sensation was really quite delicious. “Sometimes I want to please you,” she admitted.

  Hugh raised his head again. “Now?” he said.

  “A-Aye,” Belle responded softly. Her hand touched his face, her fingers following the line of his jaw, brushing softly over his lips, which kissed the slender digits before he separated one from the others, drawing it into his mouth to slowly suck upon. Belle could feel a tightening in her nether regions, an ache starting to build in her lower belly. “Hugh,” was all she could say.

  Releasing her hand, he drew her over into the curve of his arm. “I am very passionate, Belle,” he began, “and I have missed my wife. I am not a man to diddle a pretty serf in a hay pile or beneath a hedge. Since the morning I left you, I have had no woman beneath me. I have been gentle with you so far, but tonight I do not know if I can be gentle. I desire you greatly, chérie.” His big hand smoothed her tangled red-gold hair, sliding down its length, slipping over the curve of her hip, down her thigh. “All those nights we were parted, Belle, I thought of you. Of your milk-white skin, and your fiery hair; of your mysterious green-gold eyes, and your luscious body. But I thought as much of your youthful wisdom, your loyalty, your deep love of Langston and its people.” His hand moved up again now, catching her chin between his fingers, lifting her gaze to his. “I thought of how you will fight for what you believe in, and of your temper, which sometimes outruns your good sense. As much as I love my family; as happy as I was to see my grandparents; I realized that all I wanted to do was gather my birds and come home to you, Belle. Do you know what I am saying to you, chérie?”