Read The Dragon Lord's Daughters Online
Authors: Bertrice Small
The Dragon Lord's Daughters (11 page)
“Ummmm,” was her reply.
It was time. He mounted her, pulling her legs wide that he might fit himself between them. Averil did not resist him. He smiled to himself. The little witch was eager even if she didn't realize it right now. Guiding his manhood he pressed against the opening to her love channel, pushing forward slowly until the head of his lover's lance was firmly engaged. She moved nervously beneath him suddenly. “Nay, wife, do not fret,” he soothed her gently. “What must be, will.”
“You are so big,” she whispered.
“The better to satisfy your desires, Averil, and I will.” He pressed himself farther, and she gasped with surprise as the truth of his words hit home.
He would surely tear her apart with his member, she thought, suddenly panicking and struggling to free herself from this great peg of flesh impaling her. But he held her fast, and before she might protest he drew himself back, and then thrust hard into her.
Averil shrieked more with surprise than pain as he filled her full. He kissed her ardently, and then began to move rhythmically upon her, starting slowly, his measured cadence increasing in tempo until she was dizzy with a pleasure flowing through her veins that threatened to overwhelm her. “Oh, God!” she half sobbed.
He was panting with his efforts, but he laughed nonetheless.
“Don't stop!” she commanded him.
“I must sooner than later,” he gasped back.
“Not yet! Not yet!” she begged. She was reaching. Reaching! But for what she didn't know, or understand, but then she found it, crying out with delight as she was overcome with wave after wave of pure joy. “Ohhhh, Rhys!” she cried out.
He was lost within her, unable to contain himself any longer. His lustful tribute poured forth, drenching her hidden garden with its first taste of his love juices. He was racked with great shudders, and groaned, at last satisfied, but not unmindful of her delicate form. Rolling away from her he lay upon his back, his breath coming in great heaves of air. “Oh, Averil!” he echoed her cry. “What a passionate little virgin you were.”
She began to weep. “I am no longer a virgin. I am no longer a girl,” she sobbed.
“Nay,” he agreed, gathering her into his arms, cuddling her against his chest, “you are not, Averil. You are my own true wife.”
“It was wonderful!” she wept, her tears soaking his chest.
He wanted to laugh with his happiness, but he did not. Looking down he saw the great stain of her maidenhead on the sheet beneath them. “Your sire will be proud come morning, wife,” he told her.
She drew away from his embrace slightly, and looked. “Oh!” she exclaimed, and then she blushed. “He will, indeed,” she finally agreed.
“Now you must rest,” he told her. “You have been very brave, wife.”
“Do we only do it once a night?” she asked him. She honestly didn't know.
“We will not confine our passion only to the nights, Averil,” he told her, “and in answer to your question, we can do it more than once a night. Tonight, however, we have done enough. You have proved your innocence to me, and to the world. Sleep now.”
“But I liked it,” she replied. “I want to do it again.”
“I need my rest, too,” he explained, “so that my big boy may once again be eager. Look at the poor fellow now. You have worn him out, Averil, with your lustful little nature. In the hour before the dawn we shall exercise him once again, wife. He will enjoy burying himself in your hot little nest.” He kissed her, drawing the coverlet up over them. To his delight she snuggled herself against him as she fell asleep.
When Averil awoke the sky was lightening outside the tower's window. She was on her back, and there was a distinct soreness between her thighs. Rhys was also on his back, and she inspected him thoroughly for the first time. He was really a very big man. Every bit as big as her father. She considered the hours before she had slept. Her husband had proved both gentle and kind. It boded well for them, but she still did not really know him. Nor if she could trust him. Rhys FitzHugh had spoiled her dreams with no apology, and Averil knew she could not easily forgive him for it although she had to admit to having enjoyed their bed sport.
But what kind of a life was she to have at Everleigh? She would not be mistress of the house, that place belonging to a six-year-old girl. And Mary FitzHugh already had a mentor in the serving woman, Rhawn. Rhawn looked like someone who would resent any interference with her charge. Yet Rhys said his little sister needed to learn gentle ways, and Rhawn could not teach her those. The thought that she should shortly leave Dragon's Lair was not a happy one, and another unhappy truth was that she no longer belonged in her father's house. She was married, well and good, now.
Outside the tower window the sky was growing lighter, and she heard a lark begin to sing a morning song. Averil realized she no longer felt like making love. She slipped from her bed, padding across the room to the little hearth to coax the red coals into another fire. Pouring water from a pitcher that had been set in the ashes into a copper ewer she washed herself. The water in the basin grew red as she removed the stains of her virginity from her thighs and private parts. Emptying the water out the tower window she quickly dressed herself in her chemise, a green gown and sleeveless brown tunic. She slid her feet into her slippers. Then refilling the basin she set it on the chest at the bed's foot, and woke her husband.
He opened his eyes to see her standing by the bedside fully clothed. Hiding a smile he asked no questions. “Is it morning already, wife?”
“Aye. I should like to start for Everleigh today, my lord. We have done our duty, and you have been too long away. The harvest is ready to be brought in, and the bailiff should be there to oversee the work.” There! She had decided. They would go today.
He was impressed by her knowledge. He had not expected it from the Dragon Lord's proud daughter. A daughter raised to believe she would make a great marriage. He swung his legs over the bed. Then turning, pulled the sheet from the mattress, handing it to her. “Take this to your father and say we have done our duty, Averil.”
“There is fresh water in the basin, my lord,” she replied, taking the bloodied bed cloth from him.
He nodded, now smiling just a little, and was rewarded by a slight smile in return. She hurried from the tower bedchamber, down the narrow, twisting staircase, and into the hall. Her father was already up, spooning oat stirabout from a round bread trencher. Proudly Averil walked to the high board, and handed him the sheet. “It is done, Da,” she said simply.
Merin Pendragon stood, took the fabric from her, and held it out to see the now-brown stain upon it. He nodded. “You have done your duty, daughter,” he told her. “Not an easy duty given that you expected a better match than you have gotten.”
“I believe I was meant for a greater man, 'tis true, Da,” she agreed with him. “But fate had other plans for me. There is no use weeping over spilt milk. I suppose I could kill him and begin anew, but my value was not just in my beauty, but in my virginity. I still have my beauty,” she concluded with a wry smile at her parent.
He chuckled. “And you have your mother's practical nature, too, I see now. Well, it could have been worse. At least he has a place in life, and did you not tell your mother he also has a stone cottage as well?”
“He does,” Averil admitted.
“Next spring I will send the best of my builder serfs to Everleigh for you. They will rebuild your cottage into a better dwelling,” the Dragon Lord said. “I will not have you living in some hovel, daughter. Remain in the manor as long as you and Mary FitzHugh can manage together though I do not worry about the little lass. It is the serving woman that dotes on her who concerns me. She is obviously used to having her own way. Her master was ill for a time and 'twas easier for him to leave his child in the care of a faithful retainer. Rhys ran the estate. But now another woman comes into the house.”
“I know, Da. I cannot be mistress there, but neither will I allow a servant to rule me as she does the child,” Averil replied. “My husband has asked me to teach his sister gentle ways, which the servant cannot do.”
“She will be jealous of you,” the Dragon Lord replied. “God's mercy, I should have killed Rhys FitzHugh for having stolen you and been done with it!”
“Once he laid his hands on me, Da, my honor was gone until he restored it,” Averil responded sagely. “I would leave Dragon's Lair today, if it please you, Da. It is time for the harvest, and Rhys should be home to oversee it.”
“Aye, he should. Your mother will not be happy. She says there are things she must teach you first,” the Dragon Lord said.
“And I would learn from her, but my husband cannot delay, and I must go with him, Da,” Averil told her parent.
“Go where?” Gorawen had entered the hall, and came to join her lord and their daughter, her eyes flicking to the stained sheet.
“We must leave today for Everleigh,” Averil told her mother. “It is time for the harvest, and Rhys should be there.”
“Then I shall come with you,” Gorawen answered her daughter. She turned to Merin Pendragon. “It is but a few days to Lamastide, my lord. The weather is fine. You must send men to escort our daughter and her husband home. I know you can spare these men a short time. 'Twill be long enough for me to tell Averil what she must know to keep her lord content as I have kept you content all these years, my lord.”
He chuckled. “You have indeed kept me well satisfied, Gorawen. I should not deny Rhys FitzHugh the benefits of the knowledge you will impart to our daughter. Aye, you may go. If we leave today we will not arrive at Everleigh until sometime tomorrow. We will remain three full days with our child. Then we must return.”
“It is barely time, but 'twill be time enough, for Rhys FitzHugh will spend his days in Everleigh's fields bringing in the harvest,” Gorawen said. “I shall spend those days with Averil, teaching her, and explaining to her things only a woman knows.”
“Come and eat, both of you,” he said. “When you have finished go tell my lady wife of your plans; Argel will want to know, and she will miss you. My prickly Ysbail is no good company for her.” He arose from the high board, for he had now finished his meal, and left the hall, the bloodied sheet in his grasp.
Mother and daughter now sat as the servants supplied them with their trenchers filled with oat stirabout. There was also a plate of hard-boiled eggs on the table, fresh bread, butter and cheese. Watered wine was poured into their pewter goblets. The two ate quietly, but when they had finished Gorawen put a hand on her daughter's hand.
“Was it all right?” she asked anxiously.
“It was wonderful,” Averil replied, blushing. “But I am sore this morning.”
“I have something for the soreness,” Gorawen said.
“I am glad you are coming with me,” Averil admitted.
“Your new home will seem less strange if I am with you at first,” Gorawen answered. “Besides, this servant who has watched over the child-heiress must be dealt with, and you will need my help in that, for you are young and inexperienced.”
“I would not make her my enemy,” Averil said.
“Nay, you should not, but she must also understand that while her charge is the lady of Everleigh Manor, she must be guided by an equal, and not a servant. Is the woman serf, or freed?” Gorawen inquired.
“I know not, Mother,” was the reply.
“It will make a difference,” Gorawen said.
Rhys FitzHugh now entered the hall. He greeted Gorawen, and kissed his wife atop her golden head before sitting down at the high board. His food was immediately brought to him, and he began to eat. Averil filled his goblet herself, and cut him pieces of cheese, and peeled an egg for her husband. “I have spoken to your father, wife. We will leave for Everleigh as soon as I have eaten.” He turned to Gorawen. “I understand that you will be with us, lady.”
“I would see my daughter, my only child, well settled, my lord,” Gorawen told him. “The lord and his son will also accompany us.” She arose from the table. “I must go speak with Argel. She has spoken to me, daughter, of sending Dilys with you. She said you should not go from your father's house without your own servant.”
“I must thank her. Oh, I do like Dilys!” Averil said enthusiastically.
“You will thank her before you leave,” Gorawen said, and then turning she glided from the hall.
“I must send a messenger ahead to my sister so she knows we are returning, and so Rhawn may prepare for guests,” Rhys told Averil.
“Is Rhawn a serf? Or is she a freedwoman?” Averil asked him. “She seems so assured of herself.”
He laughed. “She is a serf, but her confidence comes from the fact that my sire trusted her completely. He always said she was a woman of good sense who was completely obedient, did well what was expected of her, and more.”
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