Hellion

by Bertrice Small

  “What of Vivienne?” Belle demanded, desperately attempting to forestall what she realized was inevitable. “Does she know that you plan to use her lover for such a purpose? She is very jealous of him, and has punished several maidservants for even looking at him in what she believed was an admiring manner.”

  “Vivienne knows, of course, and wanted to join us,” Guy answered her, “but I felt it best she did not. You are absolutely correct about her jealousy. I do not believe she could have borne seeing Hugh using another woman. Besides, I need her to do the incantations that go along with our efforts and are necessary for our success. My sister understood. After all, she will be the child’s mother as the matriarch of our family.” He stroked her hair again. “Are you all right now, my precious?”

  Isabelle nodded. What choice did she really have? However, she now knew what she must do, for she would not give her child over to Vivienne d’ Bretagne. If she became pregnant and still could not find a way for Hugh to regain his memory, she would be forced to leave him and flee back to Langston. Perhaps if King Henry had overcome his lust for her, and certainly he must have at this point, mayhap he would help her get her husband home to England now that she knew where he was. She would die, and the child with her, before she would allow Vivienne d’ Bretagne to have her babe.

  She looked up at Guy. “You realize, of course, that his attentions may arouse me, my lord. And if they do, I will enjoy them. Will you punish me for it if I do?”

  “You came to me with an ability to enjoy passion,” Guy said calmly. “I do not expect you to deny your feelings, Belle, even if it is Hugh who pleasures you. You do not love him. You love me.” He led her to the door of their bedchamber, and opening it, called out, “Hugh, come in and join us now.”

  Hugh entered the room solemnly. He was freshly washed and shaved. His dark blond hair was tied back with a delicate gold chain. Seeing his dear, familiar body once again, Isabelle felt herself melt inside. She watched as the two men prepared for what was to come. They drank down the wine she had previously drunk, which was now having a very erotic effect upon her. Seeing these two, well-made male creatures before her, she was becoming aroused. Guy, she had to admit, was certainly the more handsome of the two. Still, Hugh’s plain, honest face was the more attractive to her.

  Guy picked up the largest of the marble jars. It was black, with white and gold veins running through it. Taking the carved, golden lid off, he scooped a fingerful out and ate it. He then passed the jar to Hugh, who did the same and then passed it to Belle, who followed their example and made to hand the jar back to Guy, but he shook his dark head. “Nay, my love. Ingesting the pyrethrum will aid our arousal, but you must also rub it into our manhoods. It will work to make them quite rampant.”

  Isabelle said nothing, but obeyed. Carefully and quite thoroughly she anointed the two well-made sets of genitalia displayed before her. Within moments of her ministrations each became fiercely upstanding. Wordlessly, she replaced the lid on the jar, licking the excess from her slender fingers, and looked to Guy for further instructions.

  Together the two men guided her to the open window. They stood on either side of her, and the moonlight streamed in, touching their naked bodies as it reflected off the sea below. She felt them grope for her hands, and finding them, each held one of hers within his own.

  “Great Mother, and Maker of all creation,” Guy said in his strong voice, “make fruitful this woman, whose garden will tonight be sown with the seeds of life. Let her ripen as the fruit in the orchards and the wheat of the fields ripen. This I ask of you in the name of our great and powerful ancestress, your daughter, Vivienne.”

  “Make it so, Great Mother of all the Earth,” Hugh’s rough voice echoed. “Let my seed take root in this woman’s fertile body. This I ask in the name of the great and powerful sorceress, Vivienne, your daughter and devotee.”

  “When the moon again waxes in all its silver glory,” Guy concluded, “let this woman’s womb be ripe with new and growing life.”

  When his words had died, there was no sound for a few moments but the gentle slap of the waves upon the rocks of La Citadelle below them. Without another word the three of them moved across the room to the large bed. Guy climbed in first, drawing Belle with him. Moving her limbs so that he could display her, he said to Hugh, “Look how fair her skin is against the dark sheets.” Hugh stared hard at Belle, and then he entered the bed on the other side, so that she was nestled between the two men.

  They drank from the gold quartz cups in the silver filigree holders. Guy added a touch of erithraicon to the mixture. This, Belle knew from her afternoons in Guy’s magic room, was another member of the satyricon family, and helped to induce unbridled lust. Her lover was taking absolutely no chances that Hugh would fail in his mission this night. Guy massaged her breasts and belly with more foliatum. Then he playfully rubbed pyrethrum into her netherlips and over her already throbbing pleasure pearl. The pyrethrum, which was made from a plant called pyrethrum parthenium, which had been pounded down and mixed with ginger and essence of lilac, set her afire with lust, and she moaned hungrily, her hips beginning to imitate the rhythm of love. The two men grinned wickedly at each other, their passion rods stiff, unyielding, and ready to pleasure her.

  Guy cupped one of Belle’s breasts in his palm, displaying it for Hugh. “I know Vivi has fine big breasts, my friend,” he said in pleasant tones, “but observe these perfect little apples my adorable Belle possesses. Her nipples are very sensitive always. Taste one and see,” he encouraged the other man. Then taking her face in his grip, Guy turned her face to his and began to kiss her.

  His lips were warm and tender; his tongue gently sought her tongue, found it, and teased it playfully. She responded to his kisses as she always did, with pleasure; and then, to her shock, she felt a mouth on her breast. She stiffened, her mind confused.

  “It’s all right, my precious,” Guy assured her. “Hugh is but pleasuring himself, and you as well. To be loved by two men is a rare and special treat for a woman. I want you to enjoy it, Belle.”

  Enjoy it? It was madness, Belle thought, and yet, though she struggled with herself to keep the notion unborn, it bloomed, and she was forced to admit that it was also very thrilling. Neither of these men was behaving in an unkind or cruel fashion. Indeed, they drew her this way and that, hands caressing, lips kissing her tenderly. The arousal was constant, and her own desire rose with each passing moment despite her reservations.

  Guy sat up, a wall of pillows behind his long back. He drew Belle between his open legs, murmuring low, “Spread yourself for him, my precious. That’s a good girl.” Each of his big hands held one of her breasts, his fingers crushing the soft flesh. His breath was hot in her ear. “You are wonderful, my darling,” he purred encouragingly.

  Hugh knelt between Isabelle’s milky white thighs, gently caressing her plump mont. She was really very lovely, he thought. Leaning forward, he spread her netherlips with his thumbs and gazed on her little pleasure pearl. It was larger than Vivi’s, but most perfectly formed. Bending lower, he began to tongue it with at first delicate and then harder strokes that demanded a response.

  It was as if fire had touched her. Belle’s body writhed, and she moaned from deep in her throat. “Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!”

  Without a single word, Hugh mounted her, thrusting deep. Sobbing with desire, Belle moved back to wrap her arms about Guy’s neck. Leaning forward, Hugh kissed and licked at her breasts as her body arched against him with unbridled passion. Within moments he was pumping her full of his love juices, and she cried his name. Hugh then rolled off her, his face hidden from her.

  Guy was quickly atop Isabelle, driving deep inside her with a ferocity she had never experienced, even with him. He could see the pulse in the base of her throat throbbing madly, and he was filled with a jealousy he forced himself to swallow. She had, after all, warned him that Hugh might arouse her passions.

  Hugh lay dazed as Guy used Isabelle. Just a brief m
oment ago when she had cried out his name in her passion, his memory had returned in a blinding, searing, white-hot flash. He remembered absolutely everything that had happened before he had arrived at La Citadelle and since then. What he did not know was how his wife had gotten here, and how he was going to keep himself from killing Guy d’ Bretagne. But he realized immediately that he could not reveal himself to the d’ Bretagnes lest he endanger Isabelle. Brother and sister were ruthless in pursuit of their own desires. He must continue to pretend he was the same Hugh that Vivienne d’ Bretagne had brought from Manneville. It would not be easy, given the fact that the woman he loved, the mother of his son, was even now yielding herself with cries of undisguised pleasure to her lover.

  Guy d’ Bretagne rolled off his mistress, gasping with his efforts. His manhood was still stiff, as was Hugh’s now, too. “Mount her again, brother,” he said to his companion. “She is a tireless little witch, and nowhere near her peak.”

  Masking his emotions, Hugh pulled Isabelle atop him, saying roughly to her, “Come, my pretty little bitch, and let us see how well you can ride me to a finish.” He lifted her up and impaled her firmly upon his passion rod.

  Her own lust high, Belle pressed her breasts against his hard chest, and their lips met for the first time. Sucking her tongue into his mouth, he moaned as she rode him with slow, teasing motions. Suddenly, she felt Guy’s hands upon her hips, his manhood pushing against her in a place she never thought to entertain a man.

  “Arch your back more,” he growled into her ear, and pushed with fierce determination until the muscles protecting her yielded.

  She gasped, shocked, but Hugh held her tightly, not allowing her to rise. She could not help but continue her subtle motions while behind her Guy ravished her. The two men were maddened by the juxtaposition of their throbbing members within her lush body. They both delved deep within her sweetness, thrusting and groaning as they sought to find the zenith of their passion. Caught between them, Isabelle’s head swam with a combination of the wine, the lotions, and her own natural ardor. Her little cries filled the air, exciting the two men even further. Finally the trio collapsed, limbs entwined, and barely sated, but the hour was yet young, and there would be many to follow.

  The rest of the night followed a pattern. The men made love to Isabelle in turns, then they would bathe and drink restorative liquids that Guy had brewed up for them. Guy would feed her small tidbits from time to time.

  “To help keep up your strength, my pet,” he murmured.

  In the end exhaustion overcame her and she fell asleep.

  “You did well, my friend,” Guy d’ Bretagne said to Hugh. “She has surely conceived this night, but if not, we shall try again in another few weeks.”

  “I did it for Vivienne,” Hugh said. “A child will make her happy, she says, though I do not believe it.”

  Guy barely heard him. His attention was turned to Belle. She was pale, but she slept a normal sleep. He did not hear Hugh leave the chamber, but, finally noticing he was gone, Guy put his own head down and slept.

  “Was it necessary to remain with them for the entire night?” Vivienne asked her lover peevishly as he entered their bedchamber.

  “Your brother wanted to make certain that I impregnated her,” Hugh answered. He, too, was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sleep. He did not want to have to answer her jealous questions.

  “How many times did you use her?” Vivienne demanded.

  “Three, four, I cannot remember. Guy kept feeding us all some damned aphrodisiac he had brewed up to enhance our desire. Vivi, I want to sleep and not speak on this. Leave me be now. I have done your bidding because it will make you happy, but I am tired.”

  Aye, he was tired. He realized, too, that he had the problem of deciding what he was going to do about the situation that he and Belle were caught in. First, however, he needed sleep. Making decisions from a position of weakness was not a very wise thing.

  “Very well, my Hugh,” Vivienne said, “sleep. I suppose you have earned it this night.” Then she grew silent.

  When Hugh awoke, it was midday, and Vivienne was gone from their bed. He lay quietly, considering his options in light of his newly returned memory. Was he to tell the d’ Bretagnes he knew everything? And what of his wife, Isabelle, who so easily played the whore to Guy d’ Bretagne? How had she come here, and why? His two falconers would, of course, have some of the answers. He slung his legs over the bed, his feet making contact with the floor, and stood up.

  He did not bother calling for a servant, dressing himself instead. Entering Vivienne’s day room, he startled the women serving there. One of them jumped to her feet, and hurrying to a table, poured a small cup of pale amber liquid into it. Seeing her, he waved her away. “I need nothing to strengthen me, Marie,” he told her. The damned stuff has probably helped keep my memory at bay, Hugh thought. Vivi knew all kinds of little potions and nostrums for everything. She was always mixing up something. She was probably even now in the little interior stone room where she brewed her elixirs. “Where is your mistress?” he asked the serving woman.

  “In her special chamber, lord,” came the answer.

  “I will see her before I go to the mews,” he told the woman. That should keep her from hurrying to tell her mistress he had refused his daily libation. Instead he went directly to the falcon mews. “Lind, Alain, to me,” he called upon entering the stone tower.

  At once the two falconers were by his side, chorusing in unison, “My lord!”

  “I remember,” was all he said.

  “Praise be to God and His Blessed Mother!” Alain answered.

  “No one else knows, and I have not yet decided whether I shall tell them. Only we three know,” Hugh explained.

  “What of the lady Isabelle?” Lind asked.

  “How did she come here?” Hugh Fauconier asked the young man.

  “She and Sir Rolf went up to King Henry’s court to seek word of you, my lord, when you did not return. My lady was frantic with worry. The king promised to help them, but then he took a fancy to my lady and forced her to remain at court. She avoided him quite skillfully, my Agneatha said, hiding herself among the queen’s ladies. One day she told me we should go to Normandy for she had learned that you were last seen in the company of her dastardly brother, Richard de Manneville. Sir Rolf did not know, and I begged my lady to reconsider her decision, but she would not. She gained boy’s clothing, I know not how, and she cut her hair, dying it dark with walnut stain. We traveled to Normandy in the train of Archbishop Anselm, for my lady had convinced his high steward that her two falconers would be delivering a merlin to the duke’s infant son, a gift from the king to his nephew.

  “When we left the archbishop’s party, we went directly to Manneville, where we stayed for several weeks training a bird for my lady’s brother. Sieur Richard’s lady wife befriended us, and my lady revealed herself to the lady Blanche. It was she who told us where you had been taken. Again I counseled caution, but my lady Isabelle said she must be certain that you were really here before she appealed to Duke Robert for aid. Once we had agreed to serve the d’ Bretagnes, however, we were unable to leave La Citadelle without drawing pursuit. Then lord Guy discovered that my lady was no lad, and you know the rest.”

  “Nay, the rest my wife must tell me,” Hugh said in a dangerously dark voice.

  “My lord,” the practical Alain interjected. “We all did what we must do to gain your release. Now we must take the first opportunity to flee this place and return home to Langston. You have a son waiting there. My lady’s one fear was that the child would grow up without his father. She is a good and brave woman who has risked much to free you.”

  “What time of day does she usually come here?” Hugh asked them.

  “In mid-morning, my lord,” Lind replied.

  “I will try to come then on the morrow,” Hugh said. “If I cannot, do not tell her that my memory has been restored. That must come from me and no one else.”
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  The two falconers nodded, in complete agreement with their lord.

  Part IV

  LA CITADELLE AND LANGSTON

  Late Summer 1104-Autumn 1106

  Chapter 16

  “Marie tells me that you did not take your strengthening elixir today,” Vivienne said to her lover as they lay abed that night. She ran her beautiful slender fingers across his smooth chest.

  “I do not need any further medication, Vivi,” Hugh Fauconier told his mistress. “Surely your brother told you of my fine performance with his precious Belle last night. I need no potions, Vivi, unless, of course, you are dosing me in an attempt to keep my natural memory from returning. Why should that frighten you?” He caught her hand in his and, bringing it to his lips, began to nibble upon the fingers.

  “It does not, Hugh,” she lied, but her heart thudded nervously.

  “Good!” he said, “then it is settled,” and rolling her beneath him, he pushed into her, her cry of pleasure ringing in his ears. This was all she wanted of him, he realized; his ability to give her pleasure and to dance obedient attendance upon her. His lack of resistance to her authority, his meek acquiescence these past months, had led her to believe she loved him. For now he would continue to please her. Until he decided what he was going to do.

  Isabelle was what confused him. He had every right to go, and leave her behind to the fate she had chosen for herself. Why could she not have remained at Langston like a proper wife? And yet, he smiled to himself, was what she had done—disguising herself as a boy, and coming after him—totally out of character for Isabelle of Langston? She had always been a hellion. Responsibilities and motherhood had not changed her, he realized. And if she had not come seeking him, would his memory have returned as it had last night when she cried his name in her ecstasy? Perhaps without her he would have remained under the d’ Bretagnes’ enchantment forever. It was possible he owed her a greater debt than he could ever repay.