Fire Song (Medieval Song 2)

One moment she was sleeping soundly, and the next, she was moaning softly into the darkness. Her legs were quivering with the exquisite feelings, and there was an inescapable burgeoning glow of pleasure deep within her. She felt his mouth, hot and wet, kissing her, caressing her, and both sleep and the humiliation she had felt fled her mind.

He took her, and her body dissolved into a torrent of pleasurable sensations.

Her body was utterly sated, but her thoughts tumbled in confusion. How could she respond to him so easily after what he had said and done? I am nothing but a simple fool, she thought.

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The heavy cloak made her clumsy, but she ignored it and took another arrow from Evian. She set it in its notch and slowly drew it back until her bunched fingers touched her cheek. She released it, her eyes never leaving the target. To her immense pleasure, she heard a satisfying thud and saw the arrow embedded firmly in the straw target.

“Well done, my lady!” Evian said, clapping his hands.

She wanted to shout her own pleasure at her meager prowess. She would never be Chandra, but she had hit the target, and from twenty feet.

“I have improved, have I not?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. The boy nodded enthusiastically. Kassia saw that he was shivering with cold. “Oh, Evian,” she said, “you are freezing! It is enough.”

But Evian saw her gazing wistfully toward the remaining arrows in the leather quiver. “Nay, my lady,” he said firmly, “you have six more arrows to shoot.”

“I can see your breath even as you speak,” she chided him.

“We will not have sunlight for much longer,” he said, and handed her another arrow.

Rolfe rubbed his arms as he rounded the naked-branched apple trees in the orchard. Saint Peter’s bones, he thought, it is getting cold! He started to speak, then stopped and watched Kassia shoot three arrows. All three hit the target firmly, one of them close to the dar

k blue center. He smiled ruefully, remembering his shock when Kassia had approached him during their return trip from London. She had pulled her mare in beside him, and he felt her eyes upon him, studying him.

“My lady!” he asked, turning in his saddle to face her.

“Rolfe,” she said, “will you teach me to use a bow and arrow?” The words had rushed out of her mouth and he would have laughed had he not seen the intense, pleading look in her eyes. He was not stupid. His young mistress had met the exquisite Lady Chandra, had watched her with all the other nobles in her match with the king. He had been in Lord Graelam’s service when he had decided he wanted to wed Chandra de Avenell, the warrior princess, as he called her. He had accompanied him to Croyland and witnessed the first success and final failure of his plan to wed the girl.

He asked very gently, “Why do you wish to learn a man’s skill, my lady?”

Her eyes fell for a moment; then that resolute little chin of hers rose defiantly. “I wish to be complete,” she said. She knew it odd of her to speak thus to her husband’s master-at-arms, but she did not have a choice. She doubted he would help her if she was not honest with him.

He pondered her words for a long moment. “A lady such as you is complete. You manage a great keep, help Blount with the accounts—aye, he told me that—direct the preparation of meals that keep our bellies happy, and play an amazing game of chess.”

“It is not enough,” she said quietly. He saw the flash of pain in her fine eyes, and wished for a moment that he could kick his master off his destrier and pound some sense into his thick head.

Rolfe said finally, hoping his young mistress wouldn’t take offense, “She was nothing more than a dream, spun in my lord’s imagination and fed by the minstrel’s foolish songs. I doubt that she has acquired your skills, my lady.”

Kassia did not pretend to misunderstand him. “She is all that Graelam wants and admires, Rolfe. Nay, please do not look away from me. I must speak what is in my mind. He told me about her, of course, when I asked him. He spoke of her honor, of her honesty, and of her amazing skills as a warrior. In his eyes, Rolfe, I have none of those things. Perhaps if I acquire some skill, the other qualities will follow.” She lowered her head a moment and Rolfe saw her clench the reins tightly in her small hands. “I must do something!”

But not mold yourself into Lady Chandra’s elusive image, he thought. “In most of the men’s eyes, my lady, you are all that is good and honest and honorable. Very few believe that you betrayed Graelam.”

“He does,” she said harshly.

Rolfe said honestly, before he could stop himself, “He is a fool, particularly when it concerns a woman.”

“He is also my husband. If I cannot change his thinking, it is likely that I will betray him and return to my father. I cannot bear the pain of it, you see.”

Rolfe sucked in his breath in anger. He wanted to demand if Graelam had beaten her, but he could not. Even speaking to her so honestly was improper.

“He knows great anger at me.” She gave him a sad smile. “I do not blame him for what he believes. Sometimes I wonder if I did not imagine it all.”

Rolfe looked between his horse’s ears, wishing yet again that he could beat some sense into his ruthless master’s head. To his surprise, he saw Graelam turn in his saddle, a look of suspicion narrowing his dark eyes. My God, Rolfe thought, startled, he is jealous! Of me, an old man! He thoughtfully chewed his lower lip. “My lady,” he said finally, smiling at her, “I will teach you.”

“Graelam must not know of it.”

“Nay, he will not know, not until you have the skill to impress him.”