A Witch's Tale (31 page)

“And
Lady Strathmore?” she asked archly. “How did you come to be involved with your
sponsor’s wife?”

“I
wondered when you would come back to the lovely Blythe,” Rohan said in
amusement. “Trust me, it was not I who pursued her, but the other way around.
She is much like the cat you claim to have changed her into, wife. She is very
much about her own pleasure.”

“I
did not lie to you. She sought me out to help her cause that day. She meant to
kill her husband and all else I told you.”

“Are
we back to that again?” he asked in annoyance, his dark eyes narrowing. “If
what she planned is true, than I am pleased she is no longer around to threaten
you, wife. You must give up this pretense of being a witch. I know you didn’t
turn the bloody woman into a cat. Tis’ more likely she ran afoul with some
other at the festival and got as she deserved.”

Madeline
eyed the white cat who dozed with Gerwin with a smug smile. “I’m sure she is no
longer a threat. Had she gotten her cousin to follow through on that, her
husband would be dead now and you the Lord of Rivenhahl. These are the ironies
I spoke of earlier.”

“I
am pleased with how matters turned out, Madeline,” he said with a heated look.
“Come and bewitch me with your presence in my bedroll, wife.”

The
excitement she felt as those dark eyes held hers over the fire made her
tremble. They made their bed some distance from his men, but she was still
uncomfortable with having relations with him within earshot of his squires and
knights. Her dismay was obvious. He laughed and rose, gazing at her with lust
flaring in his gaze.

“I
will keep your mouth quite busy, my fiery one. You needn’t worry they will hear
us,” he promised and held out his hand to her.

She
blushed at his words but her pulses leapt as she took his hand. He guided her
away from the fire to where his bedroll was made up by his squire earlier.
Burroughs was quite fastidious in seeing to his master’s comforts. She removed
her cloak and shook under her husband’s appreciative gaze.

“You
are quite sure they will not hear us?” she asked in worry. He chuckled huskily
and drew her to his hard chest.

“I
will take great pains to keep you silent, Madeline,” he assured her as he
loosened the ties to her gown, his hands lingering at her waist. “You must
learn to trust me.”

Madeline
looked up at him and hoped she could. This handsome enigmatic man was now her
husband. She longed to share more than her body with him. As he eased her down,
she was hesitant at first; worried the low moans he cut off with his kisses
would alert his men of their doings. She needn’t have worried.

Rohan
suckled slowly at her breasts, his lips pulling at each peak until she was
quivering with need. He eased up her skirts at last and caressed her with
urgency, readying her with knowing flicks of his fingers. She was writhing
against him, biting into his shoulder to keep from crying out, nails digging
into his arms. He rolled atop of her and entered her swiftly, cutting off her
cries of delight with his hungry kisses.

She
held him tightly, moving with him eagerly as he stroked deeply within her. He
brought her to a shattering release, taking his own soon after, burying his
face in her neck as a low moan escaped him. He held her tightly afterward, his
hands stroking her back. There were few words necessary. She was sated and knew
in this one way, her husband pleased her very well. She hoped for more, knowing
desire to be a fleeting thing at best.

“Sleep
now, my fiery one. We have a day’s ride ahead of us and know not what we find
when we get there,” he told her as he held her close, dropping a kiss on her
lips.

“You
could be pleasantly surprised when we get there,” she murmured and enjoyed the
feel of his body curved around her.

“Nothing
surprises me anymore, Madeline,” he whispered at her ear. “Only you continue to
do that.”

She smiled
against his chest, pleased at whatever compliment she sensed in his words. She
was lulled against his chest into an untroubled sleep, basking in the glow of
her husband’s ardor. Rohan held her until she slept. She knew he remained
alert, as was his tendency. He was conscious of thieves and brigands on the
road to Rothford, warned her many times to be wary.

She
felt safe in his arms; felt a sense of peace she could hardly ignore. Even with
Gavin, she never felt such ease, always guilty to know she made spells to bring
on his affections. This man needed no spell to hold her to him with soft words
and lingering caresses.

For this
spell you need a sachet bag containing sage, rosemary, and thyme which is kept
in a drawer or under a pillow, or even worn against the skin. The bag must be
moistened every seven days with seven drops of bergamot oil to be truly
effective in enabling your heart's desire.

They
arrived at Rothford’s border near dusk. She was disappointed she could see
nothing of her home by the time they entered the valley below where the house
was seated. She rode in front of Rohan, conscious of how quiet he grew the
closer they got. She sensed his nervousness. She knew he didn’t expect much.

The
house was large and gabled. The men lit torches and went within to assess the
home. Rohan left her with the wagon, a teasing look in his dark eyes.

“It
appears the walls still stand. We go in to see what conditions we find. I’d not
have you see it if it is a hovel. Take your rest, my wife.”

She
waited outside gnashing her teeth as they inspected the large house. She was
relieved to see light flaring inside the broken windows finally from lamps lit
within. Rohan returned to her side and smiled down in relief.

“It
is not as bad as I thought it would be,” he told her and kissed her forehead.
“I think a good cleaning and some new furnishings and it will be more than
adequate.”

“Show
me our new home,” she urged softly, a light of excitement in her eyes as he
held her hand and propelled her to the front door, swinging her into his arms
at the very last before he stepped inside. She giggled as he swung her to her
feet inside the heavy double doors.

“Your
new home, my lady,” he offered and gestured to the interior with an apologetic
look. “The place needs much work as you can readily see, but it has promise.”

The
many oil lamps allowed her to see the interior. She ignored the broken remnants
of furniture littering the foyer, or the dirt, cobwebs and decay of time. She
saw it through eyes able to visualize a large hall made of the finest mahogany,
gleaming marble floors, and high, cathedral ceilings where a crystal chandelier
still hung. Thieves made off with anything of value, she could assume. The
years of neglect were marked and obvious.

Rohan
led her from room to room on the ground level. The conditions were much the
same in each, showing vagabonds had obviously stayed there for a time. The
filth could be cleaned away, she saw, and saw only that, bristling with
excitement as he lead her up the curved wooden staircase. His men wondered the
house, looking for intruders.

The
house was large, boasting a dozen bedchambers on the second level. Rohan held
the lamp aloft as they entered each room for her inspection. She had quite a
lot of work ahead, but found the prospect exhilarating and not as daunting as
she thought.

He
opened the last door in the hallway and she could see it was a nursery. A
broken cradle sat within and discarded toys littered the floor. He looked at
her and her breath caught to see the look of longing in his gaze.

“We
should fill this room soon, if God is willing,” he noted with a pleased look.
“Have you a fondness for many children?”

Madeline
never gave motherhood many thoughts. Suddenly the idea of having Rohan’s son or
daughter appealed to her greatly. She decided to forego her use of the potions
that kept her from conceiving. They were married. A child could only bind them
together now. She was secure knowing he cared something for her.

“I
never thought about it. Do you want many?” she asked hesitantly.

“I
had no brothers or sisters growing up,” he replied as he picked up a broken
doll from the floor and set the lamp down. “I was quite lonely growing up as a
result.”

“A
child would please me,” she admitted and looked around with a wrinkle to her
nose. “But later when we have this place cleaned up.”

Rohan
grinned at her words. “Such matters are not for you to decide, wife, but the
powers that be.”

She
smirked as she turned her back upon him and inspected the room, knowing he
would hardly appreciate knowing she had the means. Minerva believed women
furthered their own demise by not limiting the amount of children they had. It
was impressed upon her to pass such knowledge to those who sought her. What he
didn’t know wouldn’t dismay him. She would have a child because she wanted one,
not by nature’s dictates. She could see her husband wished for as many as she
could give him and groaned under her breath. If only he had to endure bringing
one into the world, he would cease to look around the room so hopefully.

“But
as you say,” he conceded reluctantly as he came to her side and took her hand
in his larger one. “Waiting seems more practical than not. We must take
measures if that is your feeling. I can wait.”

Madeline
felt a tightening in her chest at the way he looked at her, his dark eyes
filled with some emotion she couldn’t know yet. She squeezed his hand
encouragingly.

“I would
enjoy being a wife for a time, my lord,” she replied and saw his naughty grin.

“I
can help you there, my fiery one,” he whispered huskily. “I would enjoy you
being a wife right now, but the men wish to inspect the stables.”

She
giggled at his words. “You are impossible! Is that all you think of?”

“I
think of food right now,” Rohan admitted and his lips curved into a beguiling
smile. “Then I think of you free to vent such loud wailings in my ear while I
am making love to you all night in this wreck of a house.”

The
thought made her smile and tremble in sudden eagerness. “Go inspect the
property. I will see if the kitchens are intact.”

Rohan
led her out of the nursery and left her with several lamps burning throughout
the lower level. Burroughs and another burly man brought in a crate of food.
She was pleased to see the kitchen was the cleanest room in the house,
obviously the hearths in each room used to cook since the house was abandoned.

She
muttered a soft incantation and a roaring fire soon lit the hearth. She forgave
her use of magic, knowing it couldn’t be helped at that moment. She whispered a
spell to clean the place so she could set about making a meal for the twenty
men in their company. With the sweep of her hand, the place was wiped free of dirt
and debris. The crates with their provisions were also sorely depleted, making
her continue to abuse her magic to produce more food.

Madeline
shook her head as she was forced to use magic to have a decent kettle and pots
to cook with, as the ones used previous weren’t clean to her satisfaction. By
the time she was done casting, she had a fully stocked kitchen and despaired of
her vow to abstain from sorcery. She told herself she only saw to their
comforts as she set a hearty stew to boil and broke fresh bread loaves baked in
seconds by her spells design. On impulse she laid her hand in a sweeping manner
above a plate and fresh apple tarts appeared.

Within
the hour the men returned and several wandered near, smelling the rich smells
coming from the kitchen. Rohan entered and looked pleased the kitchen appeared
intact, kissing her in relief as he saw she had a pleasing meal for all near
ready.

“You
are a wonder, Wife,” he said as he swung her up to kiss her lips before he
snatched an apple tart and she shooed him out of her domain.

Madeline
smiled as he left her, dark eyes glowing in pleasure as he ate the delicious
tart. She excused her use of magic now because it could not be helped, she told
herself. She knew she missed the daily use of it and muttered under her breath
to know she had to do things differently now. A little help never hurt to add
to her husband’s comfort, she thought as those traitorous thoughts filled her
mind, betraying her intent to live as a normal woman might.

Her
house was a wreck. Her husband’s sacrifice gave her guilt. She told herself the
use of magic was necessary and she would stop once the house was in order. A
smile of satisfaction lit her face as she blinked and produced a bottle of fine
mulled wine for later. Her husband’s promise to allow her to vent made her
anxious to please him now.

Burroughs
looked decidedly pleased when he entered the kitchens. The young man bore the
thankless task of cooking for his master, she learned, and was compassionate to
see his relief she was well-versed to the task. 

“It
pleases me Sir Rohan has married,” he admitted shyly, his eyes meeting hers for
the fewest of moments. “The king did well in giving him so accomplished a
wife.”

“How
long have you squired for my husband?” she asked as she dug bowls out the crate
for the men. “You appear very young.”