Medieval Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “I don’t want any of these,” she said, and watched a surprise expression overtake his face.

  “If you have a certain color in mind, perhaps I could pay to have it dyed.”

  “Nay. That won’t be necessary.”

  “I insist you choose one.”

  She knew he wasn’t going to give up, because he always had to have his way. So, instead, she walked over to a shelf and picked up the bolt of blue silk that her father had bought her not long before he died. “I’ll use this,” she said, holding it up so he could see it.

  “I don’t remember us buying any silk that color.” He walked over to inspect it.

  “It’s not yours – it’s mine,” she said, holding it to her chest. “It is the silk my father bought me before he died.”

  “Did he pay taxes on it as well?” The audacity of his bluntness was alarming.

  “How can you say such a thing? I’m telling you, my father was just as loyal and honest as you.”

  “I doubt that anyone could be as loyal as I am to the king, Muriel. But just the same, go ahead and use that silk for yourself if you wish.”

  How noble of him to allow her to use something that was already hers.

  “Measure me now for my tunic for the banquet,” he commanded. “And I’d like you to weave me a new pair of hose as well.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  Nicholas heard Muriel’s last words and it had his mind racing in many directions at once. Those were the same words she’d used when they’d made love. The same words that got him so excited a second time in the same night. Why did she have to use them now?

  She took her measuring string and put her arms around his chest. He was much larger than her, and her arms didn’t reach all the way around him easily.

  “Come closer, and you’ll be able to reach.” He pulled her to his chest until their bodies were touching. She seemed to like it there, and for a moment he thought she was going to stay in his arms. But she didn’t. Instead, she used the string and measured for the length of his tunic. Next it was time to measure for his hose. She stopped.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “I need to measure the length of your legs for the hose.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She hesitated. “I’ll have to measure the outside, as well as from the inside of your thigh all the way to the floor.”

  “I’m not stopping you.”

  When she placed her lithe fingers on the outside of his legs it tickled and he chuckled.

  “Is something amusing, my lord?”

  “Nay.” He shut his mouth, trying to keep from laughing. Next she took the end of the string and placed it – right between his legs up to his groin. Immediately he was affected, and started thinking of her fingering the wool on her spindle.

  Something happened beneath his hose and now it was her turn to look up and chuckle. “Did you want me to measure that, too my lord?”

  “No need,” he said, pulling away. “I think you already know the size of that.”

  Her chuckle was gone and her eyes opened wide, and if he wasn’t mistaken, he saw the pebbles of her hard nipples from under her bodice, telling him that she, too, was aroused. “Yes, I do remember your generous proportions, if that is what you mean.”

  “Muriel, I want you.” He waited for her response. She wasn’t about to give him the reply he longed for after he hadn’t acted the way she wanted when she’d told him she loved him.

  “Well, I don’t want you.” She wound up the string in her hand, and used a quill at the table to write down the measurements.

  “You are angry with me because I didn’t tell you I love you in return on the ship.” He followed her over to the other side of the room.

  “Aye, I am hurt.” She busied herself folding fabric.

  “I don’t know what love is, Muriel. Nor do I know how to say it.”

  She stilled her motion but didn’t turn to look at him. “Mayhap if you tried, you could learn.”

  “Egads, I am a hardened warrior, not a milksop.”

  “Milksop?” She raised a brow and stormed across the room and started to put things away into a sewing basket. “Is that what I am to you?”

  “Nay, I didn’t mean that.” He didn’t know how to talk to this woman and it was trying his nerves. “God, give me strength,” he said, pulling his sword from his scabbard and laying it on the table in front of her. “My mother is a lot like you when it comes to affairs of the heart.”

  Muriel looked up, surprised to hear the baron talking about his family. She didn’t think he’d open up to her, and she was interested in hearing his story.

  “Continue,” she said.

  “Are you telling me what to do?”

  “I didn’t mean to, my lord. As you wish.”

  He nodded. “She is in love with my father, but they were betrothed at a young age. My father has never told her he loves her to this day.”

  “And how about you? Have you told her?”

  “Nay,” he said, shaking his head. “I haven’t because I was never allowed to be anything but strong. My father wouldn’t let me.”

  “I think telling someone you love them is strong. Keeping it inside and ignoring it is the coward’s way of dealing with it.”

  She thought that would upset him, and already regretted speaking so boldly, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I’ll tell you something I have told no one in my entire life. I do regret not telling my mother I love her.”

  “Then why don’t you? If I could tell my mother or father I love them one more time, it would mean the world to me. But they’re gone now, and it’s too late. If you miss the chance, do you want it to haunt you the rest of your life?”

  “Nay,” he said with a shake of his head. “You are right, Muriel. When she comes for the banquet, I assure you – I will tell her so.”

  “I guess there is hope for a hardened warrior like you after all,” she said with a smile.

  “Tell me about your family, Muriel. You already know a little about mine.”

  “There is not much to tell. It’s just my brother and myself. My mother died birthing another child, and my father – my father – as you know, was murdered by bandits. I never got to say my goodbyes. I can’t get the bloody image of him out of my mind. When the guild members brought him back to town to be buried, he looked as if he was attacked from behind, and never even had a chance to draw his dagger. How awful that must have been.”

  “So he didn’t hear the bandits approaching on the road?”

  “I guess not. If so, he would have pulled his dagger from his waistband.”

  “Unless it was someone he trusted.” He looked as if he pondered the situation, and she wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry. I know it must be hard for you. I didn’t mean to make you sad.” He pulled her into his arms, and willingly she let him. “Let’s stop talking of things that make you sad, and instead think of what will make you happy.” He reached out and kissed her then, and she forgot all about her troubles.

  Nicholas wanted Muriel badly, and it was driving him mad. It had been over a fortnight now since they’d first coupled, and it was all he’d been able to think about lately. He ran his hand down the side of her cheek as they kissed, his fingers trailing downward and settling at the hollow of her neck. Her skin was as soft as the bolts of silk lining the shelves of the solar walls, and she was tastier than any tart Henry could construct.

  “When I’m with you like this, I forget you’re not of noble blood.”

  Her body stiffened when he said it, and to his dismay she pushed away and fixed her hair.

  “I think it would be best if I joined Isaac at the mews,” she said, and turned to go. His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her. He sat on the table, and pulled her between his legs and kissed her once again.

  And once again, she pulled away. This game was getting old.

  “Muriel, what are you doing?”

  “I’m n
ot sure you want to be kissing just a spinster – a mere merchant’s daughter. After all, what will your friends and family think?”

  “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I will do as I please.”

  “Really? Because it doesn’t sound that way to me. I think you are embarrassed to be seen with a commoner. After all, every time you want to get intimate with me, you don’t do it until you’ve sent everyone away, or hidden me where no one can see us.”

  “Are you saying you want to couple in front of others?”

  “Of course not! I’m just saying, I wish I could be something to you other than just your spinster or your mistress.” She turned and started away.

  “Muriel!” he shouted, and she stopped in her tracks. He took several slow steps toward her, and stilled. “Turn around and look at me.”

  “I am a free woman, I owe no fealty to you, my lord.”

  “And I’m not asking you to give it to me. I just want you to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you. If you can do that – I promise to never touch you again.”

  She turned ever so slowly, and raised her eyes to his. He saw anguish and sadness reflected in her gaze, mixed with a hidden gentleness behind her tough façade.

  “Say it, Muriel.” He took a step closer, his words throwing down the gauntlet in challenge before her. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me, and you can go back to town and I will never bother you again.”

  “I . . . I . . . ”

  His heart almost stopped when he thought she was really going to say she didn’t want him, and he only hoped he hadn’t read her signals wrong. Because if she walked out that door, he would have to keep his promise. And to never touch her or kiss her or make love with her again, would be the worst punishment he could ever imagine.

  “I . . . do want you, my lord,” she said to his relief. “I want you more than any man I’ve ever met. I feel something in your embrace that I’ve never felt before. And while I am not of noble blood – I feel like a queen when we are intimate together.”

  “Come here, sweetheart,” he said softly, holding his arms out to her. She lunged forward, propelling herself into his hold, nearly sending them sprawling across the floor.

  Her kisses were so passionate he felt a fire in his chest ignited by every one of her touches. She did want him, as much as he wanted her. And right now, nothing else mattered. Spinster or merchant’s daughter, he really didn’t care. All he cared about was joining their bodies together as one, and burying himself deep into the warmth between her thighs.

  His fingers fumbled with the laces on her bodice while they kissed, and her hands went to the bottom of his tunic as she pulled it up and over his head. She threw it to the floor and reached for the ties on his hose next, and before he even had her undressed, she had him standing stark naked before her.

  He pulled off her clothes, fondling her breasts as she fondled his weapon of love. Then in one powerful swoop he cleared the contents of the table with one hand and picked her up in his arms. Her strong legs wrapped around him, and she pushed the delectable swells of her breasts against his hard chest.

  Then he sat her down on the table, laying her back, picking up her legs and sliding her forward until he sank into her warm depths up to his hilt.

  “God’s eyes, Muriel, you excite me.”

  She arched up off the table, her rosy hardened tips pointing up toward the sky as he thrust in and out.

  Her cries of pleasure and passion echoed against the stone walls, and his breathing became labored.

  “My lord,” she cried out, and it was all he could do to speak at a time like this.

  “Call me by my name,” he said, wanting to hear his name on her lips in the throes of passion. It made him even more excited.

  “Nicholas,” she said, but it was not more than a soft whisper.

  “Louder,” he told her, causing her to cry out again.

  “Ohhhhh, Nicholas,” she said, but he wanted – needed to hear his name shouted from her as she reached her climax.

  “Louder,” he ordered. “Cry out my name louder.”

  “Nicholas,” she shouted this time. “Ohhhhh, my god this feels so good.” Then at the top of her lungs she moaned in pleasure and used his name again. But this time it was loud. Very loud, and he liked it.

  “Nicholas, take me. More, Nicholas, more.”

  That drove him over the edge, and he too shouted her name loudly. “Muriel, Muriel, arrrrrrrrgh,” he cried, finding his release. Then, leaning on the table for strength, and with her legs spread wide around his waist, they both were spent and sated.

  That is, until the door to the solar burst open and in ran his friends, Conlin and John with their swords raised.

  “Romney, what’s going on?” cried Conlin. “Is someone hurt?”

  “We’ve got you covered,” shouted John, waving his sword in the air.

  Nicholas leaned forward and covered Muriel’s naked body with his own, to keep his friends from laying eyes on her beautiful form.

  A crowd of people rushed up in the corridor behind them, and Nicholas could have died at that moment.

  “Romney, no one wants to see your ugly bare ass,” said Conlin, making a face and looking away.

  “Get them all out of here,” he called out, but John started laughing hysterically, and that started Conlin laughing as well.

  “By the rood, did you hear me?” he growled. “Get out of here and close the door.”

  “And why don’t you just come on over here and do it yourself,” challenged John.

  “Because, he’s too em – bare – assed,” said Conlin, and the two men doubled over in laughter.

  “I said, get out!” Nicholas reached over to a pair of scissors still on the table, and flung them at his friends. They stopped laughing as soon as the scissors were embedded into the wall directly behind them.

  “I think he’s serious,” said John.

  “Everyone, back to work,” he shouted at the crowd in the corridor. He hoped to hell Muriel’s brother wasn’t out there looking in as well.

  “All right, get moving,” said Conlin, pushing everyone out the door and leaving with them.

  “Was it good?” asked John with a raised brow. “By the sound of the screams, we thought someone was getting murdered in here.”

  “Out!” shouted Nicholas, picking up a basket of thimbles next, turning this time, but still blocking Muriel, and throwing it at his friend. The basket brushed John’s arm, and the thimbles hit the floor with a slight tinkling sound as they scattered amongst the floor rushes.

  “Next time . . . lock the door,” said John. “And then no one will have to see such a sight.” He turned to go, and shouted back over his shoulder. “I didn’t mean you, Muriel, I meant the ugly peacock strutting around naked.”

  Nicholas hurried across the room and slammed the door. When he turned around, Muriel was standing there, holding her gown in front of her. One side of her mouth turned up and then the other, and then she started laughing as well.

  “What the hell is so funny?” he growled.

  “You can’t hide your intent for me anymore, my lord.”

  “And that amuses you, does it?”

  “Nay.” She shook her head and giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. “I was just laughing at Lord Conlin’s jest about you being em – bare – assed, and Lord John calling you a peacock.”

  “It’s not funny,” he said, but when he saw her smile and the twinkling of her indigo eyes, he felt as if he wanted everyone to know that he considered Muriel his. He smiled as well, and then he laughed too. Because mayhap – somehow – the whole situation was just a little amusing.

  Chapter Seventeen

  One week had passed, and Muriel couldn’t stop thinking about what happened in the Ladies’ Solar with Nicholas. Her fingers flew as she spun wool, walking down the wharf alongside Cecily as she followed Nicholas who was up ahead and already talking with his dockmen. Isaac had been shadowing Roger, N
icholas’s squire lately, and Muriel was sure he had addled dreams of someday learning to wield a weapon or become a squire himself.

  She felt as if she were dancing on clouds lately, she was so happy.

  “Muriel, I swear you are glowing,” said Cecily as they walked.

  Muriel had met her friend here, as Cecily was waiting for her stepfather who was at the Collector of Customs’ booth. He was waiting for his stamped receipt of detailed goods from the shipment he’d just picked up and paid taxes on. Cecily’s mother and four young siblings were waiting in a horse-drawn wagon at the end of the docks for him, with the shipment already loaded.

  Trading was in full swing as always and the wharf area was very crowded, even though the trade fair that everyone looked forward to did not start for a sennight yet.

  “I think mayhap you’re right and that I am glowing,” said Muriel in a sing-song voice. “I don’t know why, but I feel wonderful today!”

  “Could it have anything to do with the fact that you’ve been coupling with Lord Nicholas?” asked Cecily. “After all, everyone in the manor knows about it after your little excursion in the Ladies’ Solar. Half the town is speaking of it as well.”

  “That might have something to do with it,” she said with a giggle, continuing to spin wool like crazy.

  “Muriel, does the baron really make you spin wool everywhere you go?”

  “He ordered me to do so, however, I’m sure I could stop if I wanted to, since I am ahead of schedule making all the clothes for the banquet. But I find spinning relaxing and look to it as a form of – calming myself. So I keep spinning no matter where I am.”

  She came to a stop with Cecily at her side. She could see Nicholas standing by the Collector of Customs on the pier, talking to several of the merchants from town, checking their detailed stamped receipts.

  “So the baron still thinks someone is trying to swindle him and the king?” asked Cecily with a roll of her eyes.

  “I’m sure he’s just imagining the whole thing, but he takes his job very seriously.” Her spindle had almost hit the ground the yarn was so long, and she stopped and wound it up quickly.