in spite of his forbidding look. “It was a very nice kiss,” she said softly, and reached up to brush her lips against his. Then, having some sense left, she fled.
Aimery watched her in bemusement, then rubbed his hands over his sweat-damp face. That little encounter had been intended to exorcise her effect on him and leave him at peace. Now he wondered if he’d ever have peace again. His body hurt, and his mind was tied in knots.
If she really was a virgin, she was wasting a natural talent. He’d lost his head as soon as he touched her. What a pleasure it would be to show such a fiery piece all the wonders of her delightful body, but he wasn’t risking another encounter like this one. He’d be a wreck before Midsummer Day. The only solution was to put as much distance as possible between them. He began to climb the slope. A two-day walk to Banbury was just what he needed.
Madeleine stopped her flight by the stream to catch her breath. She looked back but could not see him. She had the strangest desire to retrace her steps . . . She shook her head. She knew what a lucky escape she’d had. If she wasn’t a virgin when she married, she’d never be honored by her husband. She could be rejected, beaten, imprisoned . . .
She shuddered. It was madness, but just now being with him almost seemed worth whatever came afterward.
She checked her appearance, sure her wickedness would be written there. Her gown was straight and decent but, oh Lord, there were two wet circles over her breasts where his mouth had been.
The dizzy heat swept over her at the memory, and she pressed her hands against the aching nipples.
“Lady Madeleine!”
Madeleine saw her guard trotting toward her. She looked down at her telltale gown. With a little laugh, she tipped herself forward into the shallow stream.
“Lady Madeleine!” The man splashed over to her. “Are you all right? I thought I heard something.”
Madeleine pushed herself up, soaking wet. “I’m fine. I just tripped.”
“But earlier? I heard a cry.”
“Oh, that. I thought I saw a snake.” Madeleine allowed him to help her over to the other side of the stream. “You are slow to respond, though. That was ages ago.”
“No, it weren’t,” the man protested. “ ‘Tweren’t more than a few minutes. Dorothy and I just wondered as to whether we’d heard anything, and then I came find you. You shouldn’t go out of sight, my lady . . .”
Madeleine felt as if she had been gone from the real world for hours, days even, not just minutes. She was not at all sure she was back yet, or ever would be. As the guard shepherded her back toward Dorothy, Madeleine cast one wistful look back at the thicket by the stream.
Chapter 2
contents - previous | next
A long day of walking brought Aimery a night of deep sleep. When he awoke the next day, the encounter with Dorothy seemed to be a dream. It was just as well he didn’t need to return to Baddersley, though. The wench was dangerous.
Ten miles from Banbury, Aimery and Gyrth heard rumors of the enslavement. The culprit was Robert d’Oilly, which hardly surprised Aimery. D’Oilly was a coarse French mercenary—a vicious and effective fighter without any other virtue. It was a tragedy William had had to use such as he to win England, and now thought fit to reward him with land.
Aimery and Gyrth soon fell in with a group of men walking to Banbury market. It was easy enough to get them talking.
“Took my sister’s nephew. Just like that. He’d done nothing wrong.”
“Hear tell the priest over Marthwait tried to stop ‘em and they broke his head. Still ain’t recovered his wits. Bloody Normans. Bastards, every one of ’em.”
“Who’s overlord?” asked Aimery in the same rough tongue the villagers were using.
One spat. “Should be Earl of Wessex, but they up and killed him at Hastings, didn’t they? Now there’s none but the bloody king, and a fat lot of use it’d be complaining to him.”
“Worth a
Aimery watched her in bemusement, then rubbed his hands over his sweat-damp face. That little encounter had been intended to exorcise her effect on him and leave him at peace. Now he wondered if he’d ever have peace again. His body hurt, and his mind was tied in knots.
If she really was a virgin, she was wasting a natural talent. He’d lost his head as soon as he touched her. What a pleasure it would be to show such a fiery piece all the wonders of her delightful body, but he wasn’t risking another encounter like this one. He’d be a wreck before Midsummer Day. The only solution was to put as much distance as possible between them. He began to climb the slope. A two-day walk to Banbury was just what he needed.
Madeleine stopped her flight by the stream to catch her breath. She looked back but could not see him. She had the strangest desire to retrace her steps . . . She shook her head. She knew what a lucky escape she’d had. If she wasn’t a virgin when she married, she’d never be honored by her husband. She could be rejected, beaten, imprisoned . . .
She shuddered. It was madness, but just now being with him almost seemed worth whatever came afterward.
She checked her appearance, sure her wickedness would be written there. Her gown was straight and decent but, oh Lord, there were two wet circles over her breasts where his mouth had been.
The dizzy heat swept over her at the memory, and she pressed her hands against the aching nipples.
“Lady Madeleine!”
Madeleine saw her guard trotting toward her. She looked down at her telltale gown. With a little laugh, she tipped herself forward into the shallow stream.
“Lady Madeleine!” The man splashed over to her. “Are you all right? I thought I heard something.”
Madeleine pushed herself up, soaking wet. “I’m fine. I just tripped.”
“But earlier? I heard a cry.”
“Oh, that. I thought I saw a snake.” Madeleine allowed him to help her over to the other side of the stream. “You are slow to respond, though. That was ages ago.”
“No, it weren’t,” the man protested. “ ‘Tweren’t more than a few minutes. Dorothy and I just wondered as to whether we’d heard anything, and then I came find you. You shouldn’t go out of sight, my lady . . .”
Madeleine felt as if she had been gone from the real world for hours, days even, not just minutes. She was not at all sure she was back yet, or ever would be. As the guard shepherded her back toward Dorothy, Madeleine cast one wistful look back at the thicket by the stream.
Chapter 2
contents - previous | next
A long day of walking brought Aimery a night of deep sleep. When he awoke the next day, the encounter with Dorothy seemed to be a dream. It was just as well he didn’t need to return to Baddersley, though. The wench was dangerous.
Ten miles from Banbury, Aimery and Gyrth heard rumors of the enslavement. The culprit was Robert d’Oilly, which hardly surprised Aimery. D’Oilly was a coarse French mercenary—a vicious and effective fighter without any other virtue. It was a tragedy William had had to use such as he to win England, and now thought fit to reward him with land.
Aimery and Gyrth soon fell in with a group of men walking to Banbury market. It was easy enough to get them talking.
“Took my sister’s nephew. Just like that. He’d done nothing wrong.”
“Hear tell the priest over Marthwait tried to stop ‘em and they broke his head. Still ain’t recovered his wits. Bloody Normans. Bastards, every one of ’em.”
“Who’s overlord?” asked Aimery in the same rough tongue the villagers were using.
One spat. “Should be Earl of Wessex, but they up and killed him at Hastings, didn’t they? Now there’s none but the bloody king, and a fat lot of use it’d be complaining to him.”
“Worth a
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