Francesca (34 page)

Pippino chuckled. “She looks like a warm armful, Cara,” he said eying Roza lasciviously and grinning. “But I’ll try to behave myself.”

Francesca took Bernardo off to meet Balbina, who eyed the big huntsman approvingly. “He looks like he enjoys his food, Cara,” she said. Then she turned to the huntsman. “Tell me what you enjoy the most, big man.”

“I will leave you two to discuss the joys of food,” Francesca said, hurrying back to the main room of the inn, where she heard Pippino ask Roza a naughty question.

“Tell me, pretty one, do you enjoy a good fuck?”

Before her former maidservant could answer, Francesca said, “Pippino! Do you recall how Alonza insisted you treat me when I first came to the inn? Well, that is how I am insisting that you treat my Roza now. Keep your cock in your breeches, or you’ll be spending the winter in the snow. Do you understand me?”

“Cara, be fair,” he complained. “We have spent the summer in the forest with no human contact. Once the others get here there will be quite a demand for this pretty girl’s company. You should really keep a whore or two at the inn. Old Alonza wouldn’t hear of it, but what is a man to do when he needs a woman, I ask you?”

“The inn can offer you food, shelter, and the companionship of your mates. I, like Alonza, will have no slatterns toiling for me, Pippino,” Francesca told him sternly.

“Damn me,” the huntsman said, “if you don’t sound just like the old woman.”

Carlo and Matteo now entered the inn, and Pippino’s attention turned to an old friend and the man by his side.

“Are they all like that one?” Roza asked her mistress.

“Some worse,” Francesca told her. “You just have to be firm, and come to me or Carlo if any of them frighten you or attempt to force you when you have said no. Pippino is correct when he says old Alonza would not put up with any nonsense. She didn’t, and neither will I.”

That night as she and her husband lay together, he said, “So, it has begun, and it would appear that we have become innkeepers. How many did Bernardo say would come this year?” He wrapped his arms about her.

“Fewer than before,” Francesca told him. “We will manage, my love.” She snuggled closer to him, pressing her breasts against him.

“Poor Pippino,” Carlo said softly. He drew her nightgown up and off of her lush body, tossing it to the floor. His big hand smoothed down the length of her back, cupping and squeezing her buttocks in his palm. “Pippino must soothe his cock by himself while I get to soothe mine with you.” He kissed her a slow, teasing kiss.

“Or perhaps I will soothe your cock myself,” Francesca said, quickly reaching down and taking him in her hand. “What will the little huntsman do, my love? This, perhaps? Or mayhap this?” She taunted him first by squeezing his burgeoning cock and then rubbing it up and down slowly, slowly as it pulsed in her hand. Turning, she bent and took him into her mouth, her tongue teasing its way about the head of his cock, then suddenly sucking him eagerly while he groaned at the sensation of her warm mouth drawing on his throbbing cock. His hand tangled in her red-gold hair, encouraging her.

“Mmmm,” Francesca purred as she eased her hold on him, licking the thick column up and down.

He retaliated, his other hand pushing between her soft thighs to find the tiny pleasure nub she possessed. A single finger easily slid between her moist nether lips and successfully gained his goal. Now it was Francesca’s turn to gasp with her pleasure as the skillful finger tortured her. She released his cock from between her lips, unable to concentrate on two sensations at once. Her body arched up to meet his hand, his finger.

“Oh, villain!” she whispered hotly.

He laughed softly. “You have a wicked yet heavenly mouth, my love,” he told her. Then with a final flick of his finger he sent her over the edge even as he mounted her, pushing himself slowly into her warm body.

She felt him filling her and cried out softly. It felt so good to be filled by his thickness, his length. Wrapping her legs about his she demanded of him, “Deeper! Faster! Faster!” And he complied with her shameless wishes, feeding her heated desire until she was writhing and sobbing beneath him.

“Temptress!” he groaned into her ear. “You find your huntsman a better lover than your duke, don’t you? You give yourself more shamelessly, more freely as the innkeeper than you did as my
duchessa
.”

“The huntsman is more exciting,” she gasped. “Oh, God, don’t stop! I’ll die if you do, my Carlo!”

He laughed wickedly. “Oh, you will die, my love, but it will be long before I stop,” he promised her. Then he began to fuck her fiercely, until he had to cover her mouth with his hand to prevent her screams of pleasure from being heard by all in the inn. The duke had been a passionate man, but the huntsman was wilder and even more passionate. The
duchessa
had been a contented recipient of her husband’s love, but the beautiful innkeeper was more reckless in her lust with her huntsman.

Francesca let him bring her to the edge twice before she finally begged for release. He gave it to her gladly, for he was not certain how much longer he could maintain himself. She flew among the stars as the greatest pleasure she had ever known swept over her. Her body shook with her own release and the sound of his voice crying her name as he unleashed his seed into her eager body. “My love! My love!” she whispered desperately as his arms closed tightly about her.

They did not speak after that. There were no words. But they slept more soundly than either of them had in months. The duke of Terreno Boscoso and his
duchessa
had somehow been overwhelmed by the passions of the huntsman and his innkeeper wife. They were not gone. Perhaps one day they would reappear. Perhaps not. And when the morning came they arose, smiling wordlessly at one another, and prepared for the day ahead.

“I’m surprised to see them up on time,” Terza murmured to Roza. “Much went on in their room last night. I thought it would never cease.”

“They seem happier today,” Roza noted. “It is as if they found peace together at last.” Then she asked, “Is there a trundle beneath your bed?”

“Are you not content with Balbina? It is warmer in her chamber near the hearth than in my chamber upstairs.”

“I had to sleep in the pantry last night,” Roza admitted. “Balbina could hardly wait to get that big fellow, Bernardo, in her bed, and he was more than willing.”

“She had the reputation of being a woman with a fine lustful nature back at the castle,” Terza said. “Of course I’ll share my little chamber with you, but our mistress should know, lest she think I’ve invited that Pippino into my bed.”

Roza giggled. “She would never think that of you, Terza. Not Pippino!”

“I’m sure there are some who appreciate his charms,” Terza answered, chuckling.

During the next few days more and more of the huntsmen began returning to the winter inn, happy to find it still available to them despite the French occupation. After all, it was not very likely that the French knew of the duke’s huntsmen or the winter inn deep in the forest. And they were all relieved by that knowledge. While they were facing the hard truth that change had come to Terreno Boscoso, at least the inn, despite the change in innkeepers, was very much the same.

Chapter 17

T
he inhabitants of the inn settled into their winter schedule. Seventeen men had arrived this season. Not quite as many as two years ago, but more than enough to take care of. Francesca thanked heaven she had her companions from the castle to help her.

November ended, and December began. It was toward the end of that month that the priest arrived. Francesca was surprised to see him, for she had not considered he would still come, but he reassured her that he had been careful. “The French will not find the inn.”

“What news?” Carlo asked him. The cleric knew him only as the huntsman.

The priest sighed and then told them, “It is said that Duke Rafaello and the
duchessa
have disappeared, although the French prefer telling all who will listen that they were executed as traitors to King Louis. Of course, no one saw the deed done or viewed the bodies.”

“I thought that castle was inviolate,” Carlo said carefully. “Did not the duke barricade himself within with his family?”

“Someone noticed one day that there were no men-at-arms upon the castle heights,” the priest began. “Comte du Barry ordered the castle’s drawbridge taken down, and no one prevented the French as they hacked it to bits, enough to get what remained lowered. When they entered the castle they found it deserted. No one remained.

“The duke and his wife were gone. There were no servants or animals or men-at-arms. It was as if they had never existed. Some believe the French tale, but others do not.”

“Then where is the duke?” Francesca asked the priest.

The cleric crossed himself. “I suspect, my daughter, that only God has the answer to that mystery. I do not believe the French, however. I think the duke and his wife may have sought refuge with her family in Florence. Many others do also. Where is Alonza?” he asked Francesca.

“She has died,” Francesca told him, and they crossed themselves. “The duke appointed me to manage the inn if I would take Alonza’s position. I was weary of hiding from the French, as were my friends. We gladly left the town. Carlo and I were wed before I returned. He and his friend, Matteo, maintain the outside for us.”

“It is honest work,” the priest said. “But what will you do when the spring comes, my daughter?”

“We will remain here at the inn, for we fear returning to the town while the French occupy it,” she answered him.

He nodded in agreement. “Of course,” he said. “’Tis very wise.”

The priest remained for several weeks, leaving in mid-January when there was a brief thaw. But before he departed he learned a secret that Francesca had been keeping close to her heart. He scolded her gently for it, saying, “You must tell him, my daughter.”

“I will,” Francesca promised the cleric. “I wanted to make certain myself.”

“She is more than certain, as am I,” Terza, who was with her mistress, said tartly to the priest. “She should have revealed her condition weeks ago, but she fears he will want her to sit by the fire for the next few months, and of course she will not. Nor should she.”

“When is the blessed event to be, my daughter?” the priest asked.

“Terza says sometime in July,” Francesca answered.

“I will be here then to see the infant baptized,” the priest promised.

“
Now will you tell him
?” Terza demanded to know.

“Tonight,” Francesca promised.

The priest departed the inn that same day. He would return to the town and give what comfort he could to those who remained. She was sorry to see him go, for she missed the comfort of her church here in the forest, as she had been her whole life used to having her faith as her companion. It was difficult when there was no priest.

That evening, the meal over and most of the inn’s other inhabitants gone to their beds, Francesca and Carlo sat by the fire in the kitchen, which they found cozy.

“The priest told me before he left that I must share my secret with you, my love,” Francesca began.

“You have a secret?” he asked her, amused. “What can it be?”

“You are teasing me,” she replied.

“I love teasing you,” he told her, leering naughtily at her.

Francesca laughed. “Perhaps I shall keep my secret, then,” she said.

“You know I hate secrets!” Carlo reminded her. “I will apologize if you will tell me your secret.”

“Hmm.” She pretended to consider. “Well,” Francesca began, “perhaps I will relent, since you are being so nice.”

He leaned forward and, catching a hand, kissed the inside of her wrist. “You and I should never have secrets from each other,” Carlo told her. “Tell me, my love.”

“We are having a baby,” Francesca said simply. “Terza says sometime in July.”

His handsome face registered his surprise, but then he said, “You cannot have a baby here, Cara. There is no doctor, nor a midwife to take care of you!”

“Most women birth their children without a doctor or even a midwife,” she said.

“And many die from the lack of care,” he replied. “I will not have you dying because we have no proper support. You are not some peasant to spawn in a field! We must find a way to get you to Florence for your sake and my heir’s.”

“No.” She said it quietly, but he heard the firm tone behind the word.

“Cara, be reasonable,” he pleaded with her. “You cannot remain here in the forest when you are enceinte with my heir. You need to be where our child can be delivered safely, kept safely. An inn in the forest is not that place.”

“And you think putting me in danger by exposing me to all sorts of risks while I attempt to reach Florence will keep us safer?” she demanded. “No, Carlo. I will remain here, where I now belong, and my women will help me deliver. Your heir will not be born in Florence. This child will be born in Terreno Boscoso. Perhaps not in the castle of the Cesares, where his sire was born and his ancestors were born, but he or she will come into the world in this duchy, not in some foreign place.”

“I am not content with this foolish decision, madam.” He was suddenly the duke he was born to be.

“Then be discontent if you will,” she responded. “I will not, cannot, be forced from my home.” Then, pulling her hand from his, Francesca rose and left him sitting before the kitchen fire.

He didn’t know what to do. She was right. Attempting to force her to leave the inn for Florence could put her in more danger than simply letting her have her own way.

But he could not help being concerned. He would speak to Terza the next day and see whether she would agree with him, for Francesca, if she listened to anyone, listened to her longtime serving woman.

But Terza agreed with her mistress. “What if someone recognized her on the road?” she said to him. “There is no real disguise that can hide her great beauty. The Milanese might turn her over to the French to gain their favor. They would care for her until the child was born, and then murder them both. No, no, my lord! My lady is safer here and so is the child. Remember who you really are and that this child is your heir.”

He accepted his defeat then, and with his wife’s permission told the rest of the inn’s inhabitants proudly that he would soon be a father. The huntsmen cheered him and then spent the winter’s day getting drunk in his son’s honor, for a man like Carlo would certainly sire a son. Among them only Bernardo remained sober. He had suspected that Francesca was with child, for he had noticed her suddenly growing plumper.

He had kept his suspicions to himself. He was also quite aware of who Carlo really was, for in the duke’s youth when he had been simply his father’s heir, Duke Titus had shared that information with his head huntsman so he might keep an eye on the boy. It was Bernardo who had actually taught the duke to hunt. He was therefore fully knowledgeable of who Francesca really was and how important the child she now carried was. He made it his mission to watch over her as he had once watched over her husband, for he admired her bravery and practical nature. She might have been born to wealth and privilege, but she was no overproud aristo.

The winter months passed peacefully. The snows were heavy, but then they began to melt with the coming spring. The days grew a little longer and slowly warmer. The huntsmen began to leave again for their forest haunts. Finally they were all gone but for Bernardo, who remained. “You need another man here,” he said when asked why. “With Cara so heavy with child now it is important to have enough protection. If the French were to venture this deep into the forest, another man would be a deterrent.” And he could not be moved, nor would he speak on the matter further.

The duke was not unhappy with his company. “He knows who we are,” he said to Francesca. “He has known all along but kept silent, and is unlikely to acknowledge it.”

“He is a good man,” she replied. “I am honestly glad he remained. Have you noticed of late how oddly Matteo is behaving? I believe our months here in the forest have not agreed with him. I wish we might send him away, but perhaps I am being unfair. Still, I do not trust him as I once did.”

“He is not used to the isolation,” Carlo said. “He is, after all, a castle servant. I think it is easier for women to adjust to this lonely life. And having to treat you and me as equals, and calling us by our Christian names, is difficult for him.”

“Husband, only Balbina is content, as she has Bernardo to fuck her when she wants him, and he is always glad to service her. But what of Terza and Roza? Perhaps my faithful Terza is content because she is with me and we have been together since I was a child. But poor little Roza is young. I suspect she harbored dreams of marrying one day. There is no opportunity here for her to wed. Yet she is loyal to me, bless her.”

“Matteo is probably going through a mood,” he told her. “It is spring, after all. I will take him out in another day or two so we may set some rabbit traps.”

“Be watchful nonetheless, even if you think me foolish, my love,” Francesca advised her husband.

He put a loving arm about her, resting his free hand on her great belly. “He will be a big lad,” he noted, and then chuckled as the infant kicked at the hand.

“Terza says I am as big if not a bit bigger than my mother was when the twins were born,” Francesca said softly.

He grinned down at her. “I like the idea of two heirs, as long as you are safe.” Then he kissed the top of her head.

“It could be two heiresses,” she warned him. “You may desire a son, my lord, but only God almighty knows what will be.”

“Terreno Boscoso has had two ruling
duchessas
in its time,” Rafaello told her. “Of course, they were then compelled to wed with distant Cesare cousins to maintain the purity of our family descent.”

“You mean a daughter can rule if she is firstborn?” Francesca was surprised.

“If there are no sons, yes,” he answered. “And in the case of the two
duchessas
who ruled, there were no brothers.”

“So, you will be content if our child is a daughter,” she said.

“I will be content as long as you are both safe from any harm,” he declared.

“I will keep praying for a son,” Francesca said. “A son first is always best.”

“It is,” Rafaello agreed. “And we will call him Carlo, after his father. Carlo Rafaello Titus.”

“I am just sorry we cannot communicate with my parents in Florence to let them know we are alive and we have a child coming,” Francesca said sadly.

“When the child or children are born and I can tell them you are all well, I will find a way,” he promised her.

Space was cleared for a summer garden, and it was planted so they might have food into the autumn and even some to store. The days grew longer, and Francesca’s belly seemed to grow larger. Terza was now certain her mistress carried twins, telling all who would listen that Francesca’s mother had been every bit as large with her twins, Luca and Lucianna.

“Her labor was surely long and difficult,” Balbina said. “God and his blessed Mother help our mistress.”

“No,” Terza told them. “Her labor was swift, to our amazement. Her previous labors had been hard, but with her twins Mistress Orianna popped those two out as quickly as a raindrop rolling down a window. Pray it will be so for our mistress. And then, when she birthed her last child, it was as it had been with all the others but the twins. I never understood it, nor did anyone else.”