He’d never seen anything so perfect.
White, heart-shaped, and smooth, her buttocks were exquisite. Mouth-watering, even. It was utterly strange that as he sat there and stared at them, he could actually feel his aching member becoming aroused. More than aroused, in fact – hungry. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman, since his first bedslave had not accompanied him from Brittany. He was, in fact, a man with an insatiable sexual appetite and he had more than one bedslave, but only one that he bedded with regularity. He called her Prima.
Now, gazing down at Ghislaine of Mercia’s perfect naked buttocks, he could imagine sliding his aroused member between those perfect cheeks and finding great satisfaction in the warm folds. Perhaps he’d found a Saxon bedslave now that he was in their country. If that was his intention, then perhaps he shouldn’t beat her so hard.
He didn’t want damaged goods.
“You deserve nothing less than a good beating,” he said, but his spanking hand had ceased. Shifting his body weight, he yanked her over onto her back again so that he could see her face. But the moment he looked at her, he could see the tears on her face. He peered at her curiously.
“Why do you weep?” he demanded. “If you are going to fight like a man, then you must take your punishment like a man. And those who are defeated do not usually weep unless they are idiots who have no business fighting in the first place.”
Ghislaine was trying very hard not to burst into tears; she was hungry, exhausted, and now with the added pressure of being embarrassed on top of it. He was dealing her a ration of insults, which she more than likely deserved at this point for trying to knee him in the groin. It was a struggle to keep her composure.
“You have no right to keep me a captive,” she said hoarsely. “I have only tried to help you find your knight and, for that, you hold me captive and beat me. I should have never come to you, Norman. I should have kept my mercy to myself.”
Gaetan looked down into that sad little face. He couldn’t agree with her because had she not come to him, he would still be wondering what had happened to Kristoph. So, in that sense, he owed her a great deal. It was enough to soften him, just the slightest, but not too much. She was still the enemy as far as he was concerned.
“You came to me to betray your brother,” he pointed out. “I wonder if there were really ever any altruistic intentions on your part.”
She scowled. “I told you that I showed your knight mercy because you had shown it to me upon the field of battle. But now I wish I had not!”
He nodded faintly. In truth, he didn’t want to start a big battle with her again, but she had to know who was in control. He could tell that she was used to being in command and not being contested. That being the case, this was going to be a harsh lesson for her because he intended to dominate her any way he could.
She would not get the better of him.
“Mercy is the mark of a true warrior,” he told her, hoping that she would respond to reason. He was growing weary of wrestling with her when he had work to do. “I want you to listen to me and listen carefully, because what I tell you will be of importance to you. You did right by showing Kristoph mercy. You will never know how grateful I am to you. I understand that you came to me to tell me where he was but you also confessed that you hoped my drive to rescue my knight would result in your brother’s death. Therefore, you have a dual purpose. I have no problem killing Alary once we catch up to him. In fact, I demand it – he has taken my knight and my vengeance knows no bounds. But your task with me is not completed. Telling me of Kristoph and your brother was only the first part of it. Now, I need your help to find your brother so that you may finish what you have started. If my mission is to be a success, then I need your help. Will you do this?”
From fighting and spanking one moment to calm, rational conversation the next, Ghislaine found herself staring up at the man and watching his mouth when he spoke. He had full lips, curvy, and big dimples in each cheek when his mouth moved. And his voice… it was that liquid metal again, searing and smooth, filling her ears with its heat. Something about that voice made her heart lurch strangely. Or was it simply him in all of his male glory that did it? She honestly didn’t know. All she knew was that when he spoke to her in that tone, she felt like doing anything he wished, like she had no mind of her own.
Witchcraft!
“You do not need my help,” she said, her voice raspy. “I told you where Alary lives. You can easily find him.”
Gaetan shook his head. “I do, indeed, need your help. You know this land, the people. You will be of great service to me and my men as we navigate into the heart of the country.”
Ghislaine could tell that no matter what she said, he was still going to force her to accompany him. It wasn’t as if she had to return home because anyone was waiting for her; there wasn’t anyone any longer. She’d spent the past two years trying to find something to fill that hole that her sweet Hakon had left in her; whether it was helping Edwin or commanding her men, no matter what she did, that hole lingered. She had no reason to believe that assisting the Normans would help her find what she was looking for, but it wasn’t as if she really needed to return home. There were only bittersweet memories there, and if she was considered a traitor for aiding the enemy, she really didn’t care. She knew the truth.
Perhaps now, she was being presented with another purpose in life.
A Norman purpose.
“Very well,” she said after a moment. “I will take you. I will finish what I started. But you had better kill my brother or he will kill me when he sees what I have done.”
Gaetan had to admit he was rather relieved that she was willing to cooperate. “Do not trouble yourself over your brother. When I catch up to him, he will not survive my wrath.”
“I hope that is true.”
“If I release you, you will not try to run again?”
“I will not try to run again.”
Gaetan immediately climbed off her, reaching down a hand to pull her up. But Ghislaine ignored the hand; she wasn’t willing to forgive him yet for everything he’d done to her. She wasn’t willing to fall so easily for his chivalry. Instead, she sat there, trying to pull up her breeches discreetly.
As she fidgeted with her clothing, unwilling to look at him, the big dog came up beside her again, sitting down and leaning against her. Ghislaine had completely forgotten about the dog, who had scampered out of the way when the fighting began, but now he was back again and practically sitting on top of her. She tried to scoot away from him.
“I do not like dogs,” she said. “Can’t this beast find someone else to sit next to?”
Gaetan had been watching her as she tried to straighten her clothing out, but he’d just turned for his chest again when she spoke. He looked over his shoulder at the big wolfhound as it practically sat in her lap.
“That is Camulos, named after the Gaul god of war,” he said, turning back to his trunk. “He will answer to Cam.”
“I do not like dogs.”
“That is unfortunate because he likes you.”
“Is he your dog of war?”
Gaetan sighed heavily. “Nay,” he said flatly. “Cam is like my child; loyal, affectionate, and demanding of my attention. He will lick you to death before he would try to kill you. It is unfortunate that a dog with that size is so docile, but I do not have the heart to leave him behind. He goes where I go.”
Ghislaine managed to pull her breeches up again, re-tying them with part of a leather strip that had been broken when Gaetan had yanked them down. She moved away from the dog only to have it cozy up to her again. She sighed with frustration as the dog looked at her with longing in its doggy eyes.
“My men packed my possessions and took them when they left the encampment,” she said, ignoring the dog who wanted her affection. “I have nothing but the clothes on my back, my bow, and my knife. I have nothing else.”
Gaetan pulled the tunic over his head, revealing a padded t
unic beneath. “I will supply you with what you need.”
“I need something to eat,” she fired back softly, noting his disapproving expression when he glanced up at her. She softened her demand, not wanting to anger him because she wanted something from him. “I… I have not eaten since yesterday.”
Still casting her that expression that suggested he didn’t like a demanding woman, Gaetan made his way over to the tent flap even as he unfastened the ties on the padded tunic. He stuck his head out of the opening and ordered one of the squires to bring food. When the boy went off, running, Gaetan came back into the tent and pulled off the padded tunic.
“I will have food brought to you,” he said. “What else do you require?”
Ghislaine didn’t answer right away, mostly because she found herself looking at a naked man from the waist up. And what a naked man… Gaetan’s skin was tanned from having worked and practiced beneath the sun’s rays and he had a fine matting of dark hair over his chest. His neck was thick, his shoulders broad, and the muscular design of his arms and chest were a size that Ghislaine had never seen before. The man was positively enormous. Her heart started to do that odd leaping thing again and, this time, she realized that her breathing was coming in strange gasps as well.
Of course, she’d seen men with their tunics off and in an intimate situation. She well remembered Hakon’s sinewy torso and long limbs. He was the only man who had ever touched her naked flesh until Gaetan had so rudely spanked her naked buttocks. But in looking at the attractiveness of the Norman as he tossed the padded tunic into the chest… she almost didn’t care that he’d spanked her.
Maybe if she was lucky, he’d do it again.
Foolish wench, what are you thinking? She scolded herself, tearing her eyes away from Gaetan as he practically stripped naked in front of her. Good God, is that where this was heading? Was he simply going to take off of his clothing right in front of her? The thought titillated her and terrified her at the same time. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the question he’d asked her.
“I… I require a bedroll, something to sleep on when we travel,” she said. “Mayhap a cloak because mine was with my men when they took my possessions away. I will also need a horse and some arrows for my quill. I used most of mine in the battle yesterday.”
Gaetan was rummaging around in the big chest. He didn’t answer her because he seemed to be quite intent on finding something. Ghislaine kept her gaze averted from him, mostly because she was afraid that if she looked at his naked chest again she would never be able to look away. But as she listened to the rustling behind her, the dog put his big paw on her lap. She picked it off.
“Here,” Gaetan said, tossing a few things at her, garments of some kind. “See if these will fit. If I am to travel with a woman, I prefer she look like a woman. See if any of that is serviceable to you.”
Offended, Ghislaine turned to tell him so but he tossed another garment and it hit her in the face. Sputtering, she pulled it off, eyeing him unhappily a moment before turning to inspect it.
Surprisingly, it was a very fine shift. Curious, she looked at the other things that were landing around her as he tossed them out of the chest. More shifts and even two heavy cotes, or long tunics that went all the way to the ground. These were made of wool but it was of a very fine type. More things came flying out at her, including scarves, and at least one belt that was woven with leather and had tassels on the end.
Truthfully, Ghislaine had never seen such fine things. Worse still, she’d never dressed as a fine lady in her life and had never had the need for this kind of clothing. Feeling the softness of these garments, however, she was greatly tempted. It was the first time in her life that such clothing had tempted her. She looked at Gaetan in astonishment.
“Where do you get these things?” she asked.
He stood up from his chest with a leather satchel in his hand that seemed to be full. “They belong to me,” he said. “My… let us say my companions wear them and sometimes they travel with me, so I have those possessions mixed with mine.”
Ghislaine didn’t understand his reference. “Companions?” she repeated. Then, it occurred to her. “You mean whores?”
He shook his head. “Women that belong to me,” he said. “Call them servants if you will.”
She looked at one of the cotes, dyed a dark blue. “Your servants wear fine things such as these?” she asked, awed. “You must be a very generous master.”
Gaetan watched her as she rubbed her hand on the soft woolen garment. Truth be told, those things belonged to his first bedslave, Prima, whose real name was Adéle, an Anglo-Saxon woman he’d stolen from a Breton baron whose home he’d overrun many years ago. Adéle was bright, sensual, sexually experienced, and older than him by a few years. He was fond of her, just like he was fond of Camulos the dog, but there wasn’t anything more to it. There never had been, even when she’d given birth to his two sons. He’d almost lost her in the last birth but she had recovered, still to adorn his bed where or when the mood struck him.
For some reason, he hadn’t brought her on this trip, mostly because none of the usual camp followers were coming because of the limited space on the cogs that brought the men to the shores of England. Therefore, Adéle remained behind in Brittany along with the rest of the non-military retinue he usually brought, mostly servants, but Adéle’s clothing was still intermingled with his.
Now, Ghislaine would wear it. There was a part of him that was slightly eager to see what she looked like when dressed as a woman. As beautiful as she was, he could only imagine what fine clothing would do for her.
“I can be generous when it is warranted,” he said. Then, he unslung the satchel that was over his shoulder and dropped it onto the ground beside her. “I am not entirely sure what is in there, but you may use the satchel to keep your possessions in.”
Ghislaine picked it up and put it on her lap, peering inside the leather sack. “More possessions for your servants?”
“Aye.”
Possessions, indeed. There was a small hand mirror, a comb, a horsehair brush, tweezers, an alabaster pot that contained some kind of balm made from wax and honey, a lumpy white cake of soap that smelled of rosemary, and a glass phial tucked inside a small leather pouch, stuffed with dried grass, that was half-full of oil that smelled of roses.
It was more feminine things than Ghislaine had ever seen, like a treasure trove of silly things she’d never cared for, perhaps because she’d never had the money for them. But now, someone was giving her these things.
Selfishly, she wanted to keep them, even if other women before her had used them. Wondrous, magical things that Norman women used.
As the dog lay down beside her and kept trying to put his paws on her, Ghislaine forgot about the fight and the general reluctance to accompany the Normans northward as she inspected and then neatly folded all of the clothing that Gaetan had thrown at her. Three shifts, two cotes, a scarf, a belt, and even a pair of what looked like short braes, or fine woolen trousers that stopped right above the knee.
Ghislaine had never seen such a thing before and held them up, inspecting them curiously. But one thing she noted as she went through the possessions – de Wolfe’s “servants” were heavier than she was. She didn’t have the round bottom to fill them out, although her breasts were rather full. She knew the items were going to hang on her somewhat but, in truth, she didn’t care. Looking at the rags she wore compared to the clothing she had in her hand… she was willing to let it hang. It was a benefit to the situation that was unexpected, indeed.
The food came after that as did a bucket of cold water that Gaetan had requested to wash with. He was still over by his chest, alternately watching Ghislaine as she sat there with the attention-demanding dog and Adéle’s clothes spread around her, and pulling forth items to take with him on their journey.
Outside the tent, his men were packing their possessions and the army was amassing. But inside the tent, Gaetan was qui
te curious about the young woman in whose hands he would soon be placing his life and the lives of his men. Had he not been so desperate to regain Kristoph, he more than likely wouldn’t have forced the lady into his custody. But the truth was that he wanted his knight returned, and in one piece, and the lady on the ground seemed to be his best option. As he’d told William, every step they took northward, Ghislaine of Mercia would be in the lead.
He didn’t know if he was anticipating this trip or coming to dread it.
Either way, there was little choice but to go.
CHAPTER NINE
The Humanity Beneath
Two days later
Outside of Chipstead, 52 miles north of the battlefield
Ghislaine didn’t mind travel, for she was heartier than most women. She was used to traveling with men and suffering hardship of cold and weather and limited food, but traveling with over two thousand Norman soldiers and nine Norman knights was something of an experience for a woman who thought she was well-seasoned for such things.
Dressed in one of the cotes that Gaetan had given her and wearing a cloak that one of the men had loaned her, a heavy thing that wasn’t very clean but it was very warm, she rode a shaggy stout mare and was relegated to riding just behind the knights at the front of the column. There were soldiers behind her, mounted cavalry, foot soldiers behind them, and the provisions wagons bringing up the rear with a small contingent of soldiers to protect them from behind.
There was crisp organization to the movement and the structure of the army, something Ghislaine found quite fascinating. She’d been a warrior most of her life but the Normans had a different type of philosophy when it came to their troops than her people did. She would admit that her people weren’t nearly as organized in some aspects, nor as well-armed. The Normans seemed to bring everything with them – smithies, leatherworkers, quartermasters, cooks – everything to possibly keep an army of this size going.
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