Godiva: Unbridled (3 page)

A vision cut through the Lady’s mind. Her horse, throwing her head, the shrill screech of a distressed neigh cutting across the lawn of a manor, and the casual slap of a man’s hand on her rump, shooing her away. A panicked gasp overcame Lady May and she leaned against Niklada’s shoulder, steadying herself against the shock of the ugly memory.

“Are you quite all right?” Thomas put his hand on her back and she flinched, so he removed it right away.

“Yes, yes…” she reached out toward his hand and held it, letting him know she wasn’t offended by his soothing touch. “Just a memory, only a second. Just a flash of Niklada, somebody driving her away from me. I don’t know what it was. Just a wisp of a thought. But it was upsetting nonetheless.”

“She’s a beautifully trained horse,” Thomas said, squeezing her hand, and reaching the other to stroke the horse’s nose. “Just during the time I’ve taken her out in the field she’s behaved so well, like she had very formal instruction. Perhaps she had a trainer who was a bit rough on her, and you remembered that? Maybe that’s why she was shy at first with me? I might remind her of him.”

“Maybe,” the Lady mumbled as she stared at the ground, unconvinced. The memory had more malice than that, struck a personal chord that she couldn’t define. She looked up to see Niklada lipping another carrot from Thomas’ palm and she smiled, leaning into his sturdy warmth.
 

“I’ll be going into town for a spell but I’ll be back shortly,” Thomas said. “Will you be needing anything while I’m gone?”

“A brush?” the Lady asked. “Do you have a brush I could use?”

“Oh, a brush I’m afraid not, my lady. I’ve got a comb you’re welcome to in the privy, but I’ve got no brush.”

“No, not for me,” she laughed, but had a flash of vanity that perhaps she did in fact need a comb for herself at the very least. “For Niklada. It always relaxes me to groom her. And if I’ve the energy, I’ll groom the other horses as well.”

“Ah, a horse brush I’ve got,” Thomas said, moving to a shelf along the back stable wall, where he produced a wooden caddy containing several types of wire and bristle brushes and combs for horses. “Groom to your heart’s contentment. And pay no mind to the comment made about the comb in the privy. You certainly require no particular grooming of your own.”

“Well, my memory may not be working so well but I can see myself as clearly as that mirror allows and I know what looks back is wild as the woods,” she replied. “I shall certainly make good use of that comb in the privy sooner than later, now that I can stand on my own. Perhaps when you get back I can make use of that bathtub. Finally soak away what’s left of the grime and the leaves that litter my hair.”

“As you wish,” Thomas replied. “I’ll not keep you waiting long.”

After grooming Niklada and one of the two other horses, the Lady May was too tired to start the other horse, so she made her way back to the bed where she rested for a while. After a time of dozing, she found herself rejuvenated enough to go outside. It was a fine day; the sun shone warmly through the clouds that drifted in front of it, bright blue sky open and clear. She walked around the perimeter of the barn. It was a large building, well constructed, with wide doors and plenty of windows for ventilation with shutters that closed tightly to keep out the drafts. On one side, a vegetable garden was flourishing, neatly planted rows of leafy stalks rising from the rich, brown soil. Beyond that was a field of lavender, its tall, purple stalks making a colorful patch of landscape. At the edge of the lavender were what appeared to be three beehives, perched upon wooden pedestals. She stared at the garden for a long time. So much care and deliberate planning had gone into it, and now the bees and butterflies floated busily about the blossoming plants, knowing just what to do. The wind picked up, giving her a chill in just her simple chemise, so she headed back toward the doors. In the far distance, she saw what looked like an orchard, and for a second she froze. Why did that seem familiar? Her brow knit together in confused uncertainty. It was much too far for her to walk there, and the land was hilly and uneven. She could ride Niklada… but she didn’t feel fit to ride yet. Still, something about that gnawed at her, and not in a good way. She realized that her heart was beating very fast, and she wanted the enclosure and shelter of the barn, so she looked away from the trees, and dashed inside the safety of the barn’s double doors.

Thomas returned not long after that, and she found herself relieved to see him, his open face and welcoming smile both comforting and familiar now. On his back he carried a pack stuffed full of provisions, and strapped to his shoulders he dragged a wheeled cart that had bags of oats and grain. As he unstrapped himself, she couldn’t help but notice his biceps, flexed and straining against the weight of his burden, the sturdy broadness of his chest. He pushed his blond hair off his face and gave her a grin.

“Well, now! The horses all groomed and ready to show?” He didn’t even seem tired after all that hauling, she thought. How far did he have to walk into town?

“Not all, just Niklada and the black pony. I’ll get to the other one tomorrow. I did take a walk around outside to see where it was that I’ve taken up residence.”

“Aye?” Thomas looked at her curiously. “And what did you think about that?”

“Oh, it’s lovely. It’s a very special place.”

“I’d take you inside but my uncle doesn’t leave me with the keys. I suppose he’s afraid I’d take up residence in his cozy home if he did!”

“Oh, I didn’t even look at the manor,” the Lady May continued. “I was talking about the barn. I looked at the garden and all the vegetables and the flowers. It’s just such a lovely little patch of earth. Very peaceful.”

Thomas observed her enthusiasm with an inquisitive expression as he put away his provisions. “It’s but a wee vegetable patch. But I’m glad you’ve taken a liking to it.” She looked away, realizing that her interest in something so simple was odd.

“Perhaps I was a botanist in my other life, so plants and soil speak to me,” she said, a shade of humor in her voice. He chuckled.

“Well as you regain your memory then you can help me to expand the garden, tell me where to plant the seeds and when. Pumpkins in the autumn, berries in the summer, we can take it well beyond that.” He walked over to her, gently moving her tousled hair from her face. “How does that bath sound to you now? I’ve had the stones heating in the fireplace, so they’re ready to warm the water. Two big pots full of them. It might help you feel a bit more like yourself.”

She nodded. A bath might be just what she needed.

She watched him move around the barn, heard the water pumping, observed as he took the heavy buckets of stones hot from the fire and listened to them sizzle as they dropped into the cool water he’d pumped into the bathtub. She watched his tall, muscular frame as he worked, and admired him silently. Once done, he excused himself, and left the barn so she could enjoy her bath with no concern of her modesty.

Taking great care as she rose from the bed, she walked to the bathing alcove gingerly, still mindful of the lump on her head, fearing the dizziness that had overcome her the other day. She felt much more sound and solid now, and after making use of the modern plumbing in this otherwise rustic bathing area, she walked to the bathtub and stripped the chemise over her head. As she lowered into the water, she caught sight of her own reflection in the rough mirror hanging on the wall and she paused. Her own face she still didn’t recognize, her body seemed unfamiliar. Gray eyes, round and large, stared back unknowing. She sighed sadly. Perhaps with time she would remember her own face. Her blonde hair swept across her back, tangled and unkempt, in need of washing, but long and healthy despite her incident. Her body was pleasing, supple breasts, firm and full, a gently sloping waist and rounded hips. Her bottom was high and smooth, legs strong and sleek. Whoever this stranger was in the mirror, she thought wickedly, running a hand over the nipple that had grown taut from looking at her own reflection, and from the chill on the air, she was arousing to the eye. The warm water enveloped her as she sank down into it, and a moan issued long and low as her muscles relaxed in the heat of its welcoming depth. The young man had thought to put a towel across the back of the tub and she rested her head in its softness, closing her eyes. The sound of her own even breathing relaxed her further until her thoughts had drifted off, lulled into dreams by the gentle sloshing sounds of water.

***

She reached above her head and water cascaded over her body, the waterfall a powerful, yet gentle force all around her. Its roaring, splashing gush sounded on all sides, but where she stood the spray was soft and soothing. The coolness of the water brought her nipples to a hard, tight attention, and where it dribbled down her stomach and between her legs was unspeakably arousing. Suddenly, arms grabbed her from behind, pulling her against a strong, muscular chest, the heat of his skin a contrast to the cool, refreshing water.

“My bathing beauty!” Thomas said, and she immediately felt his nakedness against her, the hair of his legs, the stiff length of him against her bottom. Wrapping his arm around her from behind, he cupped a breast, dipped his head to her neck and found a tender spot to probe with his tongue.

Her body immediately reacted. Moisture sprung between her folds, and she arched back against him, spreading her legs just slightly. His hand dipped to her sex, fondling the little puff of curls, laying his fingers against her swelling lips, pressing, but no more. She swayed her hips against his touch, beckoning him to probe deeper, to tickle her sensitive nub of nerves that felt ready to explode. The heat of his hardness pressed firmly into her hip and he sucked gently against her neck, his kisses slippery and waterlogged.

“Now,” she breathed, and she turned around within his arms. She jumped up and he caught her, strong and sturdy. She wrapped her legs around his waist and felt her folds spread, hot and wet, sliding tortuously against his length. But he would not enter her, just allowed her to barely slip along his hardness, then he would tip his hips back, losing the contact she desired so deeply.

“Now…oh please,” she begged against his mouth. “Inside me, please, Thomas. Fill me up…please!” Her moans turned to groans, desperate and lusty and loud. In the distance, she heard a voice.

“Did you call me?”

Her eyes opened with a start, and the lady lay very still. In the bath, her hand cupped one breast, the other one pressed firmly against her nether lips. Without moving, her eyes scanned the bathing room, looking all around. She was alone, but she felt quite exposed.

“Lady, did you call?”

“Oh, yes, Thomas.” She sat up with haste, noticing the bath water had gone cold. “Where can I find a towel to dry off?” She immediately saw them, placed right at the side of the bathtub, within reach of where she lay.

“Just to the side of the tub, there’s a stack of bath sheets, Lady May.” She felt herself blush as he called her by the name he’d given her. “Are they not enough for your needs?”

“Oh, no. No, no, these are fine. Thank you, Thomas.”

“Would you like to take tea in a little while? It’ll be four o’clock soon. Does that sound all right?”

A memory flashed in her mind. Beautiful teapots filled with fragrant leaves all the way from India, the sound of silver spoons tinkling against the delicate plates and cups. Tiered platters with lovely little sandwiches and cakes and bowls heaped with fresh clotted cream, sweet, berry preserves in painted clay pots. A sky blue rug trimmed with white embroidery covered the floor of a grand room. But it was gone before she could grasp it fully.

“Yes,” she stammered, haunted by the memory. “Yes, Thomas. That would be lovely.”

Chapter 4

“Oh, as I’d feared,” Thomas said as the Lady May walked from the bath chamber, dressed in the white linen gown that he’d left hanging for her to change into. “It’s just a bit too big, and too long. But the shawl will help.” He approached her, flicking a brown wrap over her shoulders, and she gathered it in her fist. “I could make you something of course, if I had the fabric. Or I could alter this gown. I don’t know the woman who dropped it off for repair, and it’s been now over two months, so she may never come back. At least she paid me.” Thomas smiled up at her as he arranged the meal atop a makeshift tabletop that sat perched on two bales of hay. The plates and bowls were mismatched but well cared for, the floral design clear and the edges not chipped. He fetched some toasting bread from the fireplace and carefully cut it into wedges, arranging them on a plate and offering her a pot of melted cheese. Other items were displayed on little plates; olives, pears and a basket of scones with a bowl heaped high with clotted cream.

“I’ve honey for your tea but we’ve had to ration our sugar,” Thomas said, sitting back to watch what she would do first. “And with all the taxes that the Earl has put on us, I’m afraid we don’t get much meat around here either but thanks to the cow we’ve plenty of cheese.” He smiled shyly. Her brow knitted into a frustrated scowl.

“That doesn’t seem right,” she mused. “Taxing things like sugar and meat. How can people afford to live?” Thomas laughed, then stifled himself.

“I am sorry fair lady, that I laughed at your observation.” He took a wedge of toast and poured the thick, rich cheese sauce over it. “Perhaps your loss of memory is a blessing in disguise. I wish I could forget all the taxes and hardships that the Earl has put upon all the people of Coventry. I wish my master could have afforded to take me to Paris with him. I’ve heard such wonderful things about Paris, magical things! Of the people and the food and the lovely textiles.” He stared at her as she sipped her tea, worry still clouding her expression. “I could buy a beautiful bolt of silk fabric and make you a dress that you deserve.” She caught his glance now, as he looked into her eyes, a warm flicker of a smile crossing his lips. “But I suppose, had I gone to Paris, I wouldn’t have been here to find you, stranded in the field. So I guess I’m the lucky one after all.”

She blushed, then turned her attention to the food, slicing the toast with her knife and covering it with the thick, rich cheese sauce and devouring it. Then she devoured the olives, the pears and the scones. She didn’t look up again until he filled her teacup for the third time, and she realized that her belly was finally full. When she saw that he was still watching her, now with an amused expression, she blushed again, then stood up.