Godiva: Unbridled (2 page)

“Niklada!” she cried, reaching toward the tawny mare, but her balance was off, and she fell back into the grass. Strong arms caught her before her aching head hit the ground, and a voice spoke gently to her as she stared at the face, fading once again into darkness, her head lolling back as she slipped into unconsciousness.

As her dreams enveloped her, the softness of a grand bed comforted her aching body, filtered light streaming through silk spun curtains. The lady sat up, surveying her surroundings. The young man who had been with her in the field emerged from the shadows.

“You’ve awakened,” he said. “I was worried about you.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” she replied. “But I’m quite well now.”

“Here, drink this,” he said, bringing to her a fluted glass filled with amber liquid. “It’s honey water. It will revive your senses and hydrate you. After sleeping for so long, you must drink to replenish yourself.” He lowered himself to the bed, handing her the glass and she drank, watching him. He wore a fine shirt with real silver buttons, and leather breeches sewn with tiny, intricate stitches. His scent was warm and masculine, and she desired him immediately. Draining the glass, she dropped it to the carpet beside her and sat up in the bed.

“You’ve given me a potion of iniquity,” she breathed, and her eyes narrowed. Leaning forward, she crawled toward him across the bed. “An elixir that will cause me to do your every bidding!”

“No, no!” The young man scrambled away from her as she advanced, jumped to the floor to stand next to the bed. “It’s pure honey water, lady. I promise you, on my honor!”

“Ah, but what affect this honey has!” She had reached him now, put her hand on his stomach and wrapped her arm around his back, burying her face into the thick, warm leather of his belt. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a man next to me. Lay with me now?”

“I cannot,” the young man replied, but he didn’t move away. “Lady, you are in a compromised state.”

“I am quite well,” she replied. “You’ve made me well. Your kind hands. Your healing voice.” She reached up, slipped a silver button through its hole, then another, and another. Her fingers slipped inside his shirt, ran along the taut, smooth skin of his belly. The young man groaned.

“I am but a man,” he said. “It is hard to resist.”

“So don’t resist,” she replied, unbuckling his belt. At that, she paused, looked up from where she sat at the edge of the bed, him standing between her spread legs, she clad in only her linen shift. She reached for the bodice and pulled the satin bow, loosening the lattice tie. As he watched from above, she slipped the delicate sleeves from her shoulders, baring the swell of one breast, then the other. With a growl, he was on her, sliding her back onto the bed and covering her body with the weight of his, pressing powerfully against her. She bent one leg, catching the top of his boot with her foot and anchoring it there, arching upward against the hard swell in his breeches. His hand reached at her bodice, pushing it open widely, her breasts now loose and he caught one between his lips, sucking hard, then more gently, enclosing her entire nipple with his mouth. She drew up her garment with one hand, wondering if he could feel that she wore nothing beneath it, and took great pleasure as she rubbed herself wetly against the rough leather, along the swelling hardness beneath. He thrust against her slowly, tortuously, then moved away from her breasts and up to her face where he kissed her cheeks almost frantically, then caught her mouth in a hungry kiss. She reached to his belt, longing to feel him against her, inside her, but she couldn’t unlace the breeches beneath the buckle. She moaned, desperate. He seemed unaware of her plight to release his bulging member so that he might plunge it within her and he continued to kiss her mouth, her neck. The moans became louder, more panicked as her desire rose, frustrated in frantic anticipation. Again she moaned, scraped herself against him, almost in tears, almost out of breath—

“My lady,” a gentle voice became clear and she heard her own whimpering, felt the cold sweat that covered her body. She opened her eyes, saw the same gentle face that had stared at her before, as she lay in the grass. She gasped, sitting upright.

“No!” she exclaimed, and she took in the scene around her. She lay in a rough bed, large and open, cushioned by hay and feathers, wrapped in thick blankets. The distinct scent of wood and straw surrounded her, and she realized she was in some kind of barn. So it had been a dream, she thought to herself, and was relieved. She looked at the man’s face again, this time much more shyly. But he couldn’t have known he dreams, could he?

“You’ve had a high fever,” he said. “It just broke this morning. But you’ve been crying out in your sleep. I tried to keep you comfortable but I’m afraid I didn’t do a very good job.” She saw that next to him sat a bucket and a stack of cloths that he’d been using to dab her face.

“Oh,” she said, and looked around. Across the barn, in a box stall on the other side she saw her horse. “Niklada!” she breathed gratefully and she smiled at the man.

“Yes, I brought you and your horse here two days ago. Do you remember anything?”

She shook her head, which still ached a little. She reached to feel the back of her neck, and there was a lump right at the base of her skull. Around the tops of her arms, deep bruises stood out angrily against her fair skin.

“Yes,” the man said, acknowledging the confused look on her face. “You have a big lump on the back of your head, and bruises from your fall. I found you lying in the field among the wildflowers and the ivy. Your horse was by your side. Did she throw you?”

“Oh no,” she said. “Niklada would never do that.”

“What’s your name?”

She opened her mouth to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come. Blinking, she thought again, probing the depths of her mind. Images shot though her memory, but none close enough to grasp. And none of them with an identity. “I… I don’t remember.”

The young man startled, then smiled softly. “Well that’s okay. You’ve had a bad injury. You need rest and time to heal. Until then, I can give you a name. Would that be okay?”

She thought about what he said, but when she thought too hard, it made her head hurt again. So she just nodded.

“With all this golden hair you remind me of a bedtime story that my mother used to tell me.” He picked some of the grass and leaves from her hair that spread in long, uneven tresses across the blanket. “It was about a princess who was captured by an evil witch and the witch forced her to spin her beautiful sunlit hair into thread for clothes for her mean and ugly son, who became handsome but only when he wore the clothes. But that doesn’t seem an appropriate story, now does it?” The young man laughed, and his easy, open smile soothed her. As he continued grooming her hair, he fell silent for a moment as he seemed to run through ideas in his mind.

“Well, we’ve just had our Spring festival a week ago,” he spoke slowly, pausing to think. “That’s because it rained so much last month and we couldn’t very well celebrate Spring under a blanket of clouds now could we?” He chuckled, bent his head to see if she reacted. “It’s Coventry, the town we’re in, does that speak to your memory?” She just looked at him blankly, so he continued talking. “It’s now the month of May… that might be a nice name to call you. May, like the May queen who headed up the Spring festival. The lovely Lady May. Does that sound all right?

She smiled and nodded. He was comely, and kind. As he stood, she had a memory of her dream, the tall, strong body, long legs and sturdy shoulders. But he wasn’t dressed in fine clothes; he was more simply clothed, in fabric breeches with no belt and a linen shirt that laced up, no silver buttons. It was deeply stained from wear, but appeared as clean as he could probably get it.

“My name is Thomas,” he volunteered. “I’m a tailor’s apprentice, but my master has been commissioned to a Lord in France, and he couldn’t afford to take me with him. He has a shop at the north end of the village but he’s very possessive of his work, and wouldn’t allow me to continue it while he’s gone, but I’ve taken a few small commissions, to be done here, at home.” He gestured around him. “This is where I live, in the barn. But it’s a nice barn, don’t you think? The animals keep to their side, and I keep to mine.” When she didn’t respond, only watched him as he spoke, Thomas continued. “The house is my uncle’s but he’s away in Scotland. He’s a knight, so he travels a lot. I watch over his farm while he’s gone. Perhaps you’d like to clean up. I think you’ll be pleased to see my
toilette.
That’s what my uncle calls it. He likes to use French words on things he’s particularly fond of. When I came to stay, we built this area so I would have the modern convenience of the manor. It’s really quite lovely, if I do say so.” Thomas walked past his pantry area, where the stone fireplace had an almost constant fire, and toward a corner where he drew back a thick canvas curtain. From where she lay, the Lady saw a private area with a table and basin, pitchers for water and a tall stool.

“I’ve a proper bathtub as you can see,” Thomas smiled proudly. “Once you’ve gained back your balance, I’m sure you can enjoy that. For now, a basin of water should do. There’s a kettle on, so the water will be nice and hot. Would you like me to help you?”

The Lady May was already pushing herself up on her elbows, the idea of warm water and privy to use, a great incentive. Thomas came over and helped steady her as she stood, then let her lean on him the entire twenty paces to the curtained alcove. She sat on a chair just inside to rest from this exertion, while he fetched a kettle full of hot water and some cloths for her to use for bathing. A white, fragrant lump of soap sat in a dish next to the basin, where the steaming water awaited.

After the privy, the Lady stripped her chemise from her body. On the wall there was a rough mirror, old and in need of silvering, but clear enough for her to make out most of her form. Around one ankle an angry bruise stood against her pale skin, and similar bruises cuffed the top of both her arms. On her hip was a welt and bruise from her fall, clearly the place that she’d hit the ground. Dirt and mud remnants covered one of her arms and several spots on her legs, and there was a shadow of grime around her feet from where she guessed she’d had shoes on at some point. Her hair was a tangled, wavy mess, and as she looked into the eyes of the stranger who stared back, she turned from the mirror, no longer wanting to see the evidence of what had happened to her those days before. Dunking a cloth into the steaming hot water, she fanned it on the air just enough that she could cover her face with it, and she groaned softly as the heat and steam penetrated her nostrils. She had to sit down on the chair in the middle of her clean up she was so exhausted, but once she was done she felt renewed, like she’d washed away not only the filth from the fall, but something more that she couldn’t define. With nothing else to wear, she reluctantly slipped the linen chemise over her head, and sat back on the chair, calling Thomas in to help her walk back across the room and to bed again. When she got there, a cup of warm milk with honey sat on a hay bale that served as a bedside table, and she drank it down and fell right back to sleep.

Chapter 3

Several days passed and the Lady May spent most of her time resting and sleeping, and when she was awake, staring across the barn to her horse when she was in her box stall, and watching Thomas as he carefully mended and altered the garments that he had secretly taken on commission from his master’s tailor business. Doing this gave her much comfort. In the quiet peacefulness of the barn, rest came easily. With the musical trills of the contented chickens as they wandered in and out of the little trap door that allowed them access to the garden, a serenity filled her. May found that her jumpiness had subsided. Thomas awoke early and got most of his chores done without even waking her, and by the time she did waken, he had always prepared some kind of meal, though usually very simple; fruit, bread, cheese, eggs. Enough to fill her and leave her feeling contented. For several hours each day he would disappear and she didn’t know where he would go to, but during that time she usually drifted in and out of sleep, caught between fitful nightmares and disturbingly vivid, intimate dreams about the man who was her caregiver. For his part, Thomas had remained an absolute gentleman, leaving her as much privacy as she could have wanted and not questioning her too deeply about the things she could not recall. She didn’t know where Thomas even slept; as she herself had fallen asleep each night before Thomas had cleared away the nightly dishes. A loft above one side of the barn was a possibility, but she couldn’t be certain. The bruises on her upper arm and around her ankle had begun to fade, and no longer ached when she touched them. Still, a heaviness hung inside her, wondering what life it was that she had lived before now, wondering if anyone was missing her from the place she’d left. At first merely sitting up sent the barn spinning around her, which would leave her panicked and shaking, so she stopped trying and decided to remain in bed unless absolutely necessary. Even the short walk to the bathing alcove took her several long minutes, and required the assistance of Thomas’ sturdy shoulder. But by her fourth day there, she felt well enough to make the walk on her own, and after her breakfast, Thomas pulled a tall stool over to Niklada’s box in the stable, where she perched while Thomas readied himself to go into town.

“Do you feel at all dizzy?” he asked, watching as the horse nuzzled against her. “It might be safer for you to stand. Niklada could knock you off your balance, even just by accident.”

The Lady smiled at his concern. “I feel quite well today. If she gets too enthusiastic, I’ll climb down and lean against her. But I’m sure we’ll be fine. I can’t seem to remember much, but I do know that she and I have been friends for a long time. She wouldn’t do anything to harm me.”

“Well, she did seem a bit unsure about me at first.” Thomas produced an outstretched hand with a segment of carrot balanced on his palm, and the horse lipped it up eagerly. “But I think she’s learning that I’m not so bad now.”