by Merry Farmer
“Really? And Ethan lets this happen?” Joanna crossed her arms and shook her head. “And to think the man was once our lord.”
“He still is!” Toby protested. “And he can’t very well be blamed for the crimes of others when he’s so … distracted.”
“Yes, well, we all know how you feel about him,” Joanna arched an eyebrow.
Toby flushed and looked more hopeless than ever.
“Oy! Someone plan a party without inviting me, mate?” Jack jogged into the garden, startling the three of them. His hair was still soaked and his embroidered tunic was skewed, the linen shirt under it not tucked in. Toby skittered back and glanced towards the wall as if he might run but Jack smiled at him as he reached Madeline’s side. “Toby! Long time no see, mate!”
“Jack, um, Lord John.” Toby nodded, giving him a stiff half bow with a guilty expression to match.
“Nah, don’t bother with none of that, mate. To you I’m still Jack Tanner.”
“Yes, my … Jack.” Toby sent his sister a wary glance. “I need to get back.” He turned and scrambled off towards the garden wall.
Jack scratched his goatee as he watched him run off. “What’s got into him?”
“Ethan is planning to waylay the nobles on their way to and from the council and the outlaws are planning on robbing them,” Madeline told him, not sure if it was her place to say anything.
“Oy, tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Jack glared at the wall as if Ethan were right on the other side. His scowl lightened when he turned back to her. “Me an’ Crispin got it under control.”
“Really?” She brightened. Joanna didn’t seem convinced.
“Yeah,” he grinned. “Why don’t we take a walk around town and I’ll tell you all about it. Joanna, you don’t mind, do you?”
“Not at all, my lord.” She curtsied and started out of the garden. As she passed Madeline’s side she leaned close and whispered, “Fight for him!”
Madeline turned bright red.
“What’s that all about?” Jack grinned, taking her arm.
She squeezed his arm and sighed, “I wouldn’t know how to begin to tell you.”
Chapter Six
The sky had clouded over and was threatening rain by the time Jack and Madeline rode over the hill into Kedleridge. The gloomy backdrop didn’t give the best view of his manor but it still brought a smile to Jack’s face. He turned to Madeline, riding beside him on a horse she had borrowed from Aubrey. “Well, there she is,” he grinned, “My estate.”
Madeline’s green eyes sparkled as if the sun were high in the sky. She watched him, not the manor. “It’s perfect, Jack. Prince John was a wise and good man to give it to you.”
Warmth spilled through his chest. “If you say so, MP,” he winked. “Oy, there’s Simon now.” He nodded to the manor house and nudged his horse to lead Madeline forward.
They headed down the slope and he walked his horse to a stop in front of the house and dismounted, jumping to help Madeline to her feet. Simon paused the errand he’d been running to greet them. “My lord.”
Jack’s full attention was on Madeline as he circled his hands around her waist and eased her to the ground. As she settled he kept his hands where they were, grinning at her full pink lips. She glanced up at him, her green eyes glittering, then glanced away as a flush came to her face. Her smile was perfection. He hardly noticed when the stable boy jogged up to take both of their horses. He was warm all over, even though raindrops were spitting from the sky. His manor had never felt so much like home.
When he noticed Simon the magic of the moment burst and he raised a quizzical eyebrow at his steward. “Oy! What happened to you?” he asked when he saw the small plasters on the man’s hand and an angry red bump covered with something white on his face.
“Bees, my lord,” Simon replied with just a hair of dark humor.
“Never!” He stepped away from Madeline, keeping a hand on her elbow. “Wait, we got bees?”
Simon’s eyebrow flickered up for half a second. “We have an apiary in the orchard, my lord”
“Brilliant.” He turned to Madeline. “I got stung by a mess of bees once when I was a boy.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” he smirked. “Tom and I snuck into a convent to steal honey from the nuns.”
Her lips twitched. “And you love nuns.”
He winked at her, striding over and thumping Simon’s back. He kept his arm around his steward’s shoulders, turning him to face Madeline. “Simon,” he began as if holding a formal audience, “I’d like you to meet someone very.…” The words he wanted to use refused to be spoken. He cleared his throat. “Well, this is Madeline. Madeline of Matlock. Formerly Sister Mary Peter of the Abbey of St. Mary in Coventry.”
Madeline blushed and rolled her eyes at Jack’s introduction. She nodded to the stoic middle-aged man. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Jack has told me so many good things about you.”
Simon bowed to Madeline. “The pleasure is all mine, my lady.”
“Thought I’d bring Madeline by Kedleridge for a visit,” Jack told Simon, walking back to stand by Madeline’s side. “Before this Council of Nobles an’ all. If she likes things I thought, you know, maybe she could stay for a while. The manor is much more interesting than puttering around a big, old, empty castle.”
“I’m sure I’ll fall in love in no time,” Madeline added, glancing sideways. “With Kedleridge.”
Simon’s expression remained neutral as he glanced back and forth between them. “We will do everything in our power to make your stay an enjoyable one, my lady.”
“So I thought maybe Imogene or Alice could try their hand at being a ladies maid for a bit,” Jack continued his train of thought and glanced up at the sky as it continued to drop rain on them. He nodded for the door and the three of them headed up the short stairs and inside of the manor before the rain could really start.
“Not Imogene or Alice, my lord.” Simon’s mouth twitched. “I don’t believe they have the temperament for it.”
“Aw, they’re alright.” Jack grinned as he steered Madeline over to the small fire burning merrily in the main hall’s fireplace.
“My lord,” Simon wore his most focused look, “we are not prepared to have guests. It may take some time to ready one of the spare rooms.”
“Nah!” Jack waved the idea off. “MP can sleep in my room.” Madeline’s eyes snapped wide and Simon’s narrowed as he watched the interplay. Jack blinked as his words registered. “No, no, I mean you can sleep up there and I’ll,” he shrugged, “I dunno, I’ll sleep somewhere else. Seems I never sleep in my own bed anyhow.” Madeline colored even more. “I mean I been stayin’ at the castle so much, is all.” He wondered how else he could make a fool of himself.
“That’s very generous of you, Jack, but-”
“Nah, I insist.” He brushed off her concerns and pushed away from the fireplace. “Oy! You want a tour of the place?”
Madeline’s heart leapt in her chest before she could control it. “Yes please!” She clapped her hands together and touched them to her mouth, scolding herself for sounding too eager. The shining smile in Jack’s eyes made reserve next to impossible.
“Right. Mind gettin’ a little wet?” He stepped forward and took her arm.
As she leaned close and breathed in his rich, masculine scent a whole different interpretation of his words came to mind. “Not at all,” she squeaked. Dear Lord, she was as bad as that witch Lydia.
Thoughts of her rival were just what she needed to cool her mood. She looped her arm around Jack’s, refusing to let the moment be destroyed by someone who wasn’t even there.
Jack whisked her outside and escorted her through the soggy village so fast that she almost had to run to keep up with him. He chattered about the villagers and their business as if he had learned it all from the local farmer’s wife. He knew every detail about the men and women who had been put under his charge and he spoke about them as if
they were friends and not vassals. She found herself as wrapped up in the stories as Jack was while he rattled them off.
But her attention was scattered when he dropped her arm and took her hand, running with her into a row of fragrant, blossoming heaven. Even in the rain the orchard radiated beauty. Damp white petals fluttered to the ground as they mingled with cold, teasing raindrops. Jack brushed against a branch that hung too low, plastering delicate petals and raindrops across his head and shoulders.
“This is my favorite bit,” he grinned, coming to a stop and swinging her into an embrace.
Madeline caught her breath, opening her mouth to make the appropriate reply. He didn’t wait for her words. His mouth pressed down over hers. She gasped at the taste of his tongue as it brushed against hers, seeking more. He pulled her closer and she melted against him with a sigh, standing on her toes and circling her arms around his damp shoulders, threading her fingers through his hair. Her enthusiasm encouraged him and his kiss became more ardent. He nipped at her lower lip, grazing his teeth along her swollen flesh. She caught her breath.
He was the only man she had ever kissed, and that only once with Sister Bernadette looming behind them. Yet he made her feel as if she made kissing a habit. His arms were like heaven around her and she could feel the thumping of his heart as her chest pressed against his. No wonder these sorts of miracles had only been whispered about at the convent. He slid a hand from her back to her side, pausing just wide of her breast. God help her but she wanted him to touch her.
Cursing herself for a wanton fool, unable to suppress the sensation that Mother Superior, or worse, her father, would discover her in his arms, she stepped back.
For a moment Jack gawked at her, eyelids heavy. Raindrops spattered in his face, forcing him to blink and come back to himself. “Ah, sorry.” A deep flush came to his face.
She shook her head and rushed to take his arm. “It’s not you, it’s just….” Her face burned with her feeble explanation. The rain intensified, it’s cool soak a relief. “Can you show me the house?” She looked up at the sodden skies.
“Oh, right,” he answered her with a grin and a cocked eyebrow, grabbing her hand and running towards the house with her as though they were children caught out. A clap of thunder sounded in the distance. He cut through the rows of trees, darting into the drenching rain at the back of the house and entering through the servant’s door. She laughed as he swept her inside and shook his head to brush off the rain and petals, splattering the shelves of stores around them. Dark patches of damp spread across the floor under them.
“Oy! This is the pantry.” He gestured to the well-stocked shelves as though he were dressed for an audience with the king.
“It’s lovely,” she replied with the same mock formality.
He took her hand again and lead her through a tight hall. “That’s Simon’s room.” He nodded to a small door halfway down the hall. “The main hall here you’ve already seen.”
“Quite magnificent.” She giggled as he pulled her towards the wide, carved staircase leading to a small gallery and the hallway to the second floor rooms.
The second floor wasn’t much more than a tightly-packed collection of four rooms. “Simon’s got stuff stored in most of these,” he opened the door to the one at the top of the hall. She took the opportunity to glance past him into the packed, dusty room and to lean closer to him. His arm slid around her waist and he turned her to the door across the hall. “This is my room.” He pushed open the door on a modest bedchamber.
She stepped away from him and entered the room, letting the fluttering in her heart swirl its way lower into her core. “It’s very nice.” She cursed her breathless drivel. Her eyes focused on the large curtained bed. It was decades out of fashion with curtains that had been pocked by moths and age. The coverlet was clean and cozy and an inordinate amount of pillows were stacked at the head. “Very nice.”
“Yeah, it came with the house.” His voice was thick and coarse, and when she turned to face him he pulled her back into his arms before she could reply.
His mouth was on hers again, more urgent than ever. Her hands were back in his wet hair, spreading across the hot flesh at the base of his neck before she could think about what she was doing. She opened her mouth hungrily to him, a moan of pleasure catching in her throat as his tongue danced along hers. Yes, she wanted this, wanted him. No matter how she would be punished if they were found out.
She didn’t realize she was moving backwards until her thighs bumped against the side of his bed. His body fit against hers while his hands dropped to her sides. This time he didn’t hesitate. His palm pressed against the tight mound of her breast through the thick cloth of her kirtle. She sucked in a breath, gripping his shoulder, and felt something hot and hard rub against her abdomen. A gasp of realization caught in her throat as she lost her balance and fell flat on her back on his bed.
He sank to the mattress on top of her, laughing with joy as his mouth left her lips and his tongue traced the ridge of her jaw. He breathed against her damp skin, sending shivers straight through to the throbbing heat between her legs. She could feel the subtle pressure of his most secret part rubbing against her through layers of cloth. Her body wanted to do everything and nothing at once and she squirmed under him in response, fingers digging into the muscles that flexed in his back. He sighed and kissed her with a passion that took her breath away. She didn’t know what to do. All she could think was that that witch Lydia would know exactly how to please him.
Panic began to overtake pleasure as his mouth caressed her neck, trailed heat across her collarbone as he sucked the rain from her burning skin. It all felt so good, so forbidden. Her heart pounded as she felt a tug on her skirts. He was pulling them up from the hem with his left hand. She could feel the crucifix of her rosary and his fingers inching up her leg, higher and higher until she cried out in pleasure and in fear. Yes, she wanted this, but no, no, it was wrong. His mouth closed over the soaked fabric atop her hardened nipple as his fingers slid along the damp cleft between her legs. It was bliss. It was too much. The pleasure was too overpowering, the emotion too intense.
“Jack!” she shuddered and shouted as his finger came close to slipping inside of her.
He pulled away with a gasp. The cold metal of the rosary’s crucifix burning for an instant into her thigh before he stumbled and righted himself. He crouched over her, hands braced on either side of her trembling body, not touching her. When his eyes met hers, so full of questioning and hurt, she couldn’t stand it. She scrambled away, tears stinging her eyes.
“God I’m sorry, Madeline!” He sank to his knees beside the bed for a moment, clutching the rosary and bowing his head to the mattress.
“It’s alright, Jack, it’s me that’s-”
He stood abruptly, scrubbing a hand through his wet hair. “Don’t hate me. Please don’t hate me.”
She blinked. “I could never hate you, Jack! I… I….”
“Yeah, well.” He paced away from the bed. Her eyes dropped to the bulge under his tunic. She flushed and turned away. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded again before turning and rushing out of the room.
As soon as the door shut behind him Madeline burst into tears. Her body was furious for denying herself what she wanted like it wanted air. She scooted to the end of the bed and dropped to her knees on the floor. Tears flowing, she crossed herself, clasped her hands, and began a long penance through clenched teeth.
Jack charged down the stairs, stunned and aching from his own stupidity. What the hell had he been thinking to assault Madeline like that? She was a lady, his guest, his responsibility, and he had jumped her like she was a common tavern wench. Like she was Lydia. He punched the wall at the bottom of the stairs, leaving a deep dent in the plaster and sending a spasm of pain through his hand and arm. It was pain he deserved.
“My lord?” Simon’s even voice snapped his back straight and whipped him around.
Something about the steady, knowin
g glint in his steward’s cold blue eyes broke through whatever reserve Jack had left. “Eleven months, three weeks, and five days since I’ve had a woman and I have to throw myself at an angel like some bloody animal!”
Simon stared back, face impassive, hands clasped behind his back. Jack cooled, his muscles relaxed. The one thing that was not chiseled into his man’s face was judgment. “She is a fine woman, my lord.” Their eyes met. The understanding he saw there put him at ease.
It dawned on Jack that he knew nothing at all about his most faithful servant. “She’s everything to me, mate,” his voice cracked as he confided.
“I know,” Simon nodded, deep, almost painful understanding making his eyes go sad.
“An’ I don’t deserve her.” The truth spilled out of him. “A useless, lucky wanker like me doesn’t deserve a beautiful, innocent woman like her.”
He watched his man, clutched the rosary around his wrist, waiting for an answer, waiting to be told he was wrong. Simon stared right back at him without expression, lips sealed.
It was the answer he should have expected.
“’Scuse me while I go stand out in the cold rain ‘til supper.”
It was sunny again by morning. Madeline awoke to a homely peasant woman shaking out the kirtle she had brought to change into. A fire had been lit and Jack’s bedroom was cozy and cheerful again.
“Oh dear. It’s not too late is it?” She scrambled out of bed in her nightdress, scrubbing her fingers through her hair.
“Too late for what, my lady?” the woman smiled at her. She was missing a tooth.
“Is everyone up already?” She dipped her hands into the basin of water on a table next to the bed and rubbed her face. “Is Jack, I mean, Lord John up?”
“I reckon he was never down.” When Madeline blinked at her she explained, “Lord John and Simon were up half the night discussing estate business and such.”
