Lost Love

by Maryse Dawson

  He turned his horse around and headed back home, every now and then reaching round to curse and scratch. He would get the laundry servants to give it a double washing and scrubbing, to ensure any hairs or bobbles of material were removed. He couldn't understand it; he'd never had this problem before.

  Arabella looked up when he entered their bed chamber. She was sewing his surcoat. "Thou hath returned early, milord."

  "Aye. My shirt bothers me. I hath come back to change attire."

  "What is wrong with thy shirt?" she asked, putting down her sewing and walking over to him. She picked up the shirt as he drew it off his back and inspected it. "It looks fine."

  "Well, I can assure thee it is not. I shall get another."

  "Let me," she said obligingly. She walked over to his clothing chest and pulled out another shirt. "Try this one."

  He slipped the shirt over his head and sighed. "That seems to be better. Prithee take the other one down to the laundry room, and tell them to give it a double scrubbing."

  "Aye, milord."

  She held it aloft and left the chamber. He wasn't certain, but he thought he had seen the beginnings of a smile on her lips. Did she find it funny that he was in discomfort? He frowned. Come to think of it, she'd been rather helpful in choosing another shirt for him. He shrugged; mayhap she was simply accepting that he was in charge. Aye, that had to be it.

  He left the chamber and headed back down to the stables. Fendrel was waiting for him, casually leaning against a stall eating an apple. "Dost thou feel better now, milord?"

  John's back began to tingle all over, and soon enough the itch was back, this time with a vengeance. He rushed over to a stall and rubbed his back against the thick wooden post, cursing under his breath.

  Fendrel raised his eyebrows. "I take it that would be a negative, milord?" He gave the rest of his apple to his horse and approached John. "Take off thy shirt; I wouldst take a look at it."

  John quickly pulled off the shirt, handed it to him, and then carried on scratching his back. Fendrel held it up to the light and then nodded wryly. "May I suggest a swim in the lake, milord? I knowest it will be cold, but it will get rid of this affliction."

  "I will do anything, Fendrel. It is driving me to distraction!"

  "Ride down to the lake. Whatever is on thy skin can be rinsed off. I will get a fresh shirt for thee." Bare-chested, John rode down to the lake. He dismounted quickly, and casting off the rest of his clothes, he leapt into the freezing cold water. "God's bones!" he gasped. It was colder than he'd thought, but even so, it seemed to ease his irritated skin. He dove beneath the surface and came back up, brushing the hair off his face. Rubbing his skin, he did his best to clean every part he could reach, stretching and bending until he felt normal again. Fendrel arrived, carrying a large linen towel and another shirt.

  John quickly exited the cold lake and took the offered towel, wrapping it around him to keep warm. He looked at the shirt Fendrel was holding. "That is not one of my shirts. Where didst thee get it?"

  "Nay, milord. It is one of mine."

  John frowned. "Why didst thee not take one from my chamber?"

  "Milord, there is something thee should know. Thy shirt was doused with ground rosehip, and I fear thy others may also be tainted."

  "Ground rosehip? Wherefore?"

  "I know not, or by whom, but as children we used to use it to play pranks upon one another. We called it itching powder, milord." Fendrel was failing miserably to hide his amusement.

  John's lips thinned. He was now the brunt of someone's amusement. But whom? The obvious one was Arabella, but would she dare do such a thing? He dried his body off and slipped into the new shirt and his old hose. "Fendrel, where wouldst someone acquire these rosehips?"

  "Well, there are plenty forming at the moment, but to make the powder one wouldst require dried rosehips. Mayhap the kitchens, milord? Wouldst thee like me to ask the servants?"

  "Nay, I shall do it. I thank thee for the loan of thy shirt, Fendrel. Come, we will ride back."

  * * *

  Arabella was wrapped up in her warm cloak, walking along the parapets to get some fresh air when John approached. She regarded him silently. His stride was even, and he didn't seem to be scratching at all. She frowned and studied his face, trying to make out if her itching powder had worked properly on the second shirt, but he was devoid of expression. Her gaze dropped to his shirt when he joined her, and she noted he wore an entirely new one. She regarded him warily.

  "Good morrow, milady," he said. His tone was pleasant, but his eyes contained flecks of steel.

  "Milord."

  "Thee wouldst not happen to know aught about rosehips, would thee?"

  Arabella stiffened. Oh, lord. He'd found out what had caused the itching. Mayhap he didn't know she was the culprit though. She reacted as though she would if she were innocent. "Of course. Rosehips are very good for thee, so I hath been led to believe. They make a fine syrup. Wherefore dost thou ask?"

  His eyes had taken on a darker hue, and it was all she could do to remain calm. She wanted to scarper, but if she was to portray herself as innocent, the last thing she would do was to run off.

  His hand suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist. She tried to twist away. "What dost thou do, milord?"

  "What dost I do, she asks? More to the question what hast thou done, milady?"

  "Me? Naught!" By the rood, he knew. She struggled and tried to break free, but his hold was firm.

  "Thou took dried rosehips from the kitchens, and a pestle and mortar, so I know exactly what thee didst!"

  "I didst nothing. Thou dost falsely accuse me."

  He pulled her with him along the parapets, toward the stairwell. "Deny it all thou want, milady, but thee and I both know thou art guilty. Thou hast made me change shirt thrice today and bathe in freezing cold water. For that, I am going to blister thy behind."

  "Nay! Thou cannot!"

  He stopped and stared hard at her. "Prithee tell wherefore I cannot?"

  "T-The babe!" She would try anything to escape his hard hands. Her pregnancy seemed a good enough excuse, but she was to be disappointed. He shot her an evil smile.

  "Nay, milady. I hath already asked the physician, and he hath given me plenty of advice, assuring me there is no problem whatsoever in giving thee thy just desserts! I just hath to position thee correctly!"

  "Thou told the physician thee would punish me?" She gasped. How dare he talk about her so!

  "Aye, I didst tell him." He studied her face. "Thou art embarrassed! Good! It will add to thy discomfort. Come then, wife, thy spanking awaits."

  * * *

  Arabella had no choice but to follow him. His huge hand gripped hers tightly, allowing no escape. She stumbled along beside him all the way to the bedchamber before he released her. She put some distance betwixt them and tried her best to calm him down.

  "Milord, I only meant to hath a little fun. Can thee not take a prank?"

  "A prank? I went out this afternoon with Fendrel to instruct my serfs on their crop cultivation and hath had to return twice due to itching powder, which thee, my wayward wife, doused my shirts with. So nay, I am not amused, and I can only assume my serfs will feel the same."

  "Well 'tis not my fault. I didst not know thee had to go and see them."

  "Nay, thou didst not, but let me ask thee this–wouldst it hath deterred thee, if thou had known?" She scowled and he nodded in response. "Nay, it wouldst not. So it is thy fault. Thou art a mischievous wench, milady and deserve a sound thrashing."

  She nibbled her bottom lip. She hadn't thought about the consequences of her actions, her only desire had been to see her husband made uncomfortable. She had thought he might be a little cross and had wondered if he would spank her. Part of her had almost wanted it. She frowned at this realization and backed away a little more. Seeing her intention, his hand snaked out and captured her wrist.

  "Come hither, my sweet wife." He turned her around and manoeuvred her t
owards the end of the bed. "Hold the frame and bend over."

  "I do not wish to!"

  "Bend!" he ordered. There was steel in his voice, and she knew better than to disobey his command. Holding onto the wooden frame, she braced herself for what was to come. She felt a draught of air when he raised her skirts and exposed her bottom, making it ready for his punishment. He positioned himself by her side and slipped one arm around her waist, hugging her against his body. She closed her eyes and waited for the impact.

  Smack!

  "Aow!" she cried, trying to evade the next smack by collapsing her knees, but his firm hold meant it did little to stop the next swat descending straight onto both buttocks.

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  "Aow! That hurts!" she wailed.

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  "Of course it does, Arabella. This is punishment, not play. Mayhap next time thee dost think to play a trick upon me, thee will refrain!"

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  She could feel the heat building up in her bottom with each stroke, but John was relentless. His huge hand continued its onslaught on her tender backside, until she felt the same as if she had sat on a nest of bees.

  Her knuckles showed white, so tight was her grip on the bed, her face contorted with the pain. Mayhap she should have thought twice afore using the itching powder, although, to know she had given him discomfort made her sore bottom seem worthwhile.

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  "Oh!" she gasped. "Prithee, milord. I cannot take anymore! Aie!"

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  Whatever she said made no difference. John continued to whale on her bottom, slapping each cheek alternately, until she thought she could take no more. Finally, he stopped and released his grip on her. She bounced up and placed her hands on her backside. It was as hot as the burning sun.

  John wiggled his finger in her face, his look stern. "I want thy solemn promise thee will not do anything like this again."

  She crossed her fingers behind her back. "Aye, I promise."

  He studied her. "For thy sake, I hope thee does not. I wouldst like to give thee a taste of thy own medicine. If thou were not with child, I would smother thy bottom in this itching powder concoction, and watch thee squirm, before dunking thee in the ice cold lake. Think thyself lucky!"

  She closed her eyes and looked at the floor. Aye, she was indeed lucky! The very thought of how uncomfortable she would be made her cringe inwardly.

  "I am going to ride out with Fendrel to visit my serfs. I suggest thee use this time to reflect upon they actions."

  She glanced at him sullenly.

  "Take that look off thy face, Arabella; else I will spank it from thee."

  She turned her back on him and climbed onto the bed, lying on her side to stare at him. He had said he would make her life hell, and so he had. Then why did she find herself responding to his dominance in a way she didn't understand. She waited for him to leave before turning onto on her back and staring at the ceiling. Her bottom throbbed, and she shifted back onto her side. She should hate John, but she didn't. She wondered if part of her wanted to goad him into giving her a spanking. Something about the way he chastised her made her stomach churn with excitement. It was most odd. She lay there pondering over her new found knowledge before drifting off into a light slumber.

  * * *

  Five months later, at Terryn castle, Robert of Terryn made his entrance into the world, lustily crying for the whole castle to hear. Arabella lay exhausted, but elated, propped up by several pillows on her bed. The midwife, Elodie, had already cleaned her and the baby which left Esme to make her look presentable for her husband.

  "Oh, milady. I am so pleased for thee both. A son and heir is every man's dream." She fashioned Arabella's hair into one long braid, chattering excitedly about the new baby.

  "It is indeed," said Arabella, looking down at Robert, swaddled in her arms. "He is the image of his father." He was staring up at her, a cute frown on his face, while his eyes tried to adjust to the light.

  "Aye, he is. There, thou dost look perfect. Shall I send Lord John in?"

  "Aye, twice he hath tried to come in, but Elodie has shooed him off. I expect he is driving everyone mad downstairs."

  Esme laughed. "I shall go and fetch him."

  Not even two minutes later, the door burst open and John strode in. His face was a mixture of worry and excitement. He looked at Arabella first and then down to the bundle she held in her arms. Walking over, he stared down at Robert. "He is so tiny."

  She held him up. "Hold him."

  He took him from her arms and cradled him against his broad chest, staring at every tiny detail. "He is perfect." He looked back at her. "The midwife told me the birth went well."

  "Aye. She informed me that four hours for a first birth is quite an accomplishment, although, it seemed to last much longer."

  He smiled. "Thou were brave, milady. 'Tis not something I should like to experience."

  Elodie marched in and harrumphed behind him. "Aye. All men are wondrous at making babies, but if they had to give birth…why…it would be the end of the human race as we know it!"

  Arabella sniggered, and John shifted uneasily. Elodie was very forceful, and she was the only woman Arabella had witnessed that could order him around without consequence. She took Robert from him and ushered him out of the room. "Go hither and wet the baby's head. Thy wife needs her rest, as does the little one."

  John leaned down and kissed Arabella on the lips. "Well done, milady. Thou hast my gratitude."

  She smiled and watched him leave the chamber before falling into a fitful sleep.

  * * *

  Three months later…

  Arabella had just handed Robert over to the nursemaid, Sarah, so she could put him down for his afternoon nap, when Esme entered the chamber. "Milady, thou hast visitors."

  "Who are they?"

  "Lord Merek of Blackstone and the Lady Mirabelle."

  "Oh!" Her face fell. Mirabelle had come to Terryn. Had her father told her John's real identity? If not, would she recognize him? He had re-grown his beard, so she doubted it. But more to the point, how would John react to Mirabelle? Jealousy surged through her, as she did her best to quash it.

  "Milady, shall I send them up here, or will thee join them in the great hall?"

  She realized Esme was awaiting her answer. "Is Lord John still out hunting?"

  "Aye, milady."

  "Very well. Tell my guests I shall join them shortly, and then come back here. I wouldst make myself presentable."

  "Aye, milady."

  A little while later, Arabella entered the great hall. Mirabelle spotted her immediately and rushed to her. "Arabella! It hast been too long!"

  "Aye, Mirabelle. Nigh on four years. What brings thee to Terryn?"

  "I wanted to see thee, of course. I confess curiosity got the better of me. I am anxious to meet this husband of thine. I feared no one would mend thy broken heart after Ulric."

  She didn't quite know how to respond. Luckily, Mirabelle's husband came up to greet her, accompanied by their two young children.

  "Milord Merek." She nodded.

  "Milady Arabella." He smiled warmly and ushered his children forward. "Say good day to Lady Arabella. She is thy mother's cousin."

  They smiled at her shyly.

  "Thou must be Clarice, which means thou art Leona." Arabella smiled at the two little girls. "Thou are both beautiful!" She hugged them, putting them at ease. "Wouldst thee like some candied fruit?" They nodded in unison. "Go with Esme, she will take thee to the kitchens and give thee a little treat. Is that acceptable to thee, Mirabelle?"

  "Of course. It will give me a break from their incessant chatter."

  Merek frowned at her, and she raised an eyebrow. "What? 'Tis the truth. They hath not stopped prattling since we left yester eve."

  "They are excited…of course they will chatter."

  She waved a hand dismissively, and taking Arabella's hand, led
her away from him. "So, where is this husband of thine?"

  "Hunting, but he should return shortly."

  "Where didst thou meet him?"

  "Father arranged the marriage for me, Mirabelle. There was no love involved."

  "Oh, so, my curiosity was all in vain. Silly me." She looked at her searchingly. "Thou dost not still harbour love for that bastard Ulric, dost thou?"

  Arabella looked down at her feet. What did she say? Aye, he is actually Lord John, or nay, of course not. She chose the latter, but her hesitation had already been noted.

  Mirabelle pursed her lips. "Truly, Arabella, I wouldst have thought that a marriage and one child later, thee would see sense. Clearly not! Although I cannot blame thee. He was verily handsome."

  Again, Arabella felt jealousy ripple through her. She tried to ignore it. "Aye, he was. If I remember; thee used to like playing up to him."

  "Shh! I do not wish Merek to hear. He knows naught of what happened, and I wouldst rather it stayed that way."

  "How long will thee be staying?" Arabella asked, hoping it would only be a day, but luck was against her.

  "I wondered if we could stay a fortnight? I hath yet to meet Robert and wouldst love to spend some time with him. They are so adorable when they are first born."

  Arabella doubted that she gave a fig about Robert. She couldn't seem to stand her own children, let alone someone else's. No, she was no doubt bored with life at home and wanted a change of scenery.

  Mirabelle must have noticed her delay in answering and asked, "Do we come at a bad time, Arabella?"

  "Nay, nay not all. Thou art welcome to stay. I was just wondering which chambers would accommodate thee and afford thee the most comfort. Excuse me for one moment."

  She walked off, ushering Stephen to follow her. "See that two guest chambers are made ready, preferably in the west tower, and tell Esme to bring refreshments for our guests, once she hath seen to the two girls."

  "Aye, milady."

  The west tower was on the opposite side of the castle to her own chamber. She would rather they were out of earshot, should John and she have one of their discussions.

  She walked back over and sat down beside Mirabelle. "Thy children are adorable."