The Dragon Lord's Daughters (12 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

BOOK: The Dragon Lord's Daughters
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“What exactly are her duties, my lord?” Averil probed gently.
“Why, she runs the household and takes care of my sister,” he replied.
“Then, what am I to do?” Averil said. “We have spoken on this before but you have never given me an answer. I am not an ornament whose sole existence is for your pleasure, Rhys. My life must have a purpose.”
“What has your purpose been in your father's house?” he asked her. “The lady Argel manages here.”
“My function was to learn the duties of a wife, Rhys FitzHugh, so that I might put what I have learned into effect one day. You have said your cottage is in disrepair so until it is rebuilt next year we cannot live there. And we should not live there until Mary has a husband of her own, which will be several years hence. I cannot sit in the hall at Everleigh weaving on tapestries while Rhawn manages the house. I will expect her help in learning how Everleigh's household is managed, but then it is I who should control it until Mary is old enough to take on the full responsibilities herself. Rhawn's function should be to care for your sister when I am not teaching her myself.”
“She loves the child,” he said slowly.
“That is to the good, then,” Averil replied. “But I must be mistress of Everleigh after Mary. Would you have me answer to a serf, husband?”
“I did not think about this problem,” he answered her.
“Nay, you did not. Your father, God assoil his good soul, told you to steal an heiress so you might have your own place in life. Unfortunately you stole the wrong lass. But I am your wife, Rhys FitzHugh. I am the daughter of a worthy man, a man who can trace his line of descent to a great king. My mother's family are noble, and respected. You cannot possibly expect me to give way to a serf, no matter how loyal she has been. I am not asking you to send her from the house. Just put her in her place so that I may take mine,” Averil concluded. “If you cannot do that I must remain in my father's house, for I will not be shamed.”
He shook his head. “Rhawn is a good woman,” he said. “Mary would be lost without her, and I will not send her away.”
Averil was beginning to be very annoyed. Why could he not understand that she wasn't asking him to send the serf back to the fields, she was just asking him to make certain the woman understood that Averil would manage the house once they arrived. “I repeat,” she said in a tight voice. “I do not ask you to send Rhawn away.”
“Let us wait until we get to Everleigh to settle this matter, wife,” he told her, and before she might continue to argue her mother reentered the hall.
“Come, child,” Gorawen said. “It is almost time for you to depart. You must say good-bye to your sisters, to the lady Argel and to Ysbail.”
Averil arose without another word to him, and moved quickly to her mother's side, nodding. The two women departed the hall, leaving Rhys FitzHugh to contemplate his wife's words. There was much to what Averil had said, but FitzHughs valued loyalty, and Rhawn was loyal to her masters. Averil Pendragon was another matter entirely. He finished the remainder of his meal.
Averil and her mother went to the solar of the keep where the others were awaiting them. She knelt before her father's wife to receive her blessing, putting her hands into Argel's hands in a gesture of respect.
“God bless you, Averil, and may our dear Lord Jesu and his Holy Mother Mary keep you safe always. You depart your da's house with my love and my blessings on you, your husband, and the children you will bear him.”
“Thank you, my Lady Mother,” Averil said softly, using the name for Argel that those children not hers used. “I will miss you and our family.”
“I am giving you Dilys to serve you, Averil,” Argel told her. “You are the daughter of a great house, and should now have your own servant.”
“Thank you.”
“And I shall expect to know your children, my dear, for you shall always be welcome in the home of your youth,” Argel continued. “Now get up and bid the others your farewells.” She leaned forward and kissed Averil on both cheeks.
Averil stood and went to Ysbail, her father's second concubine. “Farewell, lady. May God guard you always.”
“It could be worse,” Ysbail said bluntly. Then she said, “Junia will miss you. I hope you will ask her to Everleigh.”
“I will, lady,” Averil answered, ignoring Ysbail's first words. “Will you give me your blessing too?” She bowed her head.
Ysbail was surprised, but recovering she said, “Indeed, my blessings on you and yours, Averil Pendragon.” Then she, too, kissed the girl on both cheeks.
Averil now went to her two younger sisters. “I would remain longer, but Rhys must be back for the harvest.”
“The sheet is flying from the tower window,” Maia said excitedly. “Was it too awful? Or was it wonderful?” Her eyes were bright with her excitement, and her curiosity.
“Both,” Averil said. “It does hurt, but he says only the first time, as did my mother.”
“Did you do it more than once?” Maia continued.
Averil shook her head, laughing at her sister. “Nay, Maia Pendragon, I will not discuss such matters with a virgin. Besides, Junia is too young for such speech.”
“No, I'm not!” Junia protested.
“Will you be happy with him?” Maia asked softly.
“I think so,” Averil said.
“What if you are not?” Junia inquired.
“I must try to be, little one. It is my duty, and I am the Dragon Lord's eldest daughter. I must not shame our family,” Averil responded. “This is how it is for us. We are wedded, bedded, and then we must make the best of it.”
“You were meant for a great lord,” Junia said, tears in her eyes.
“Aye, or so I thought,” Averil agreed. “But it was not to be, Junia. Rhys FitzHugh would appear to be a good man. I will do my best to be a good wife to him as you must be to the man chosen for you one day.”
“I will choose my own husband,” Junia said.
“I also,” Maia agreed.
“I hear the horses below,” Gorawen said. “We must go, daughter.”
“Travel safely,” Argel said to Gorawen. She lowered her voice, “And for mercy's sake, do not linger long!”
Hearing her Averil laughed knowingly. She kissed her two sisters on their cheeks, hugging them harder than she ever had, then turned quickly away lest they see her tears. But both Maia and Junia were already beginning to weep noisily at the impending separation from their elder sister. With their sobs ringing in her ears Averil Pendragon departed the house of her father for Everleigh.
Chapter
6
M
ary FitzHugh eagerly ran forward to meet her brother and his party. Rhawn, lingering behind, glared with ill-concealed anger at the sight of the beautiful golden haired girl riding by Rhys FitzHugh's side. So, he had married the Welsh wench. Well, the little savage would not lord it over her child. She would see to that. The Welsh wench would be quickly taught her place. Then Rhawn's eye touched on a second woman, very much like the first. Her mother? Well, and Rhawn laughed to herself, not even two Welsh wenches were her match. She would protect her precious little mistress from these two interlopers.
“Brother!” Mary threw herself at Rhys as he dismounted.
He lifted her up, swinging her high. “Mistress Mary!” he said, laughing, his eyes filled with love for his young sister as he held her in his arms.
Mary kissed him, smiling happily. “Have you brought home a wife, brother?” Her blue eyes went to Averil.
“I have, little one,” he admitted, and slipping from her horse Averil came forward to greet her sister-in-law.
“I am grateful for your hospitality, my lady Mary,” she said, and Averil curtsied.
“Oh!” Mary exclaimed. “You must not call me my lady, Averil. We are sisters now. I am just plain Mary to you as I am to my brother.” Her eyes moved past the older girl to where Gorawen stood. “And this lady is surely your mother,” Mary said. “She is every bit as beautiful as you are.”
“And as you will be when you are grown, my child,” Gorawen replied with a smile as she greeted the little girl.
“Put me down, Rhys,” Mary commanded her brother. “I would greet our guests properly.” And when he had complied Mary welcomed the Dragon Lord back to Everleigh, but she was looking past him even as she spoke.
Merin Pendragon drew his son forward. “This is my heir, Brynn Pendragon, Mary FitzHugh. He desired to escort his sister that he might meet you.”
Brynn, a handsome lad, bowed to the little girl who curtsied in return.
“You look like your sire,” Mary observed. She was more than aware why the boy was here. She was being looked over as a possible wife in several years' time.
“So it is said,” Brynn answered her. His father had told him this girl might be his wife one day. She was pretty enough, and seemed pleasant.
“Let us go into the house,” Mary said, leading her guests inside to the hall where she invited them to sit before the fire while her servants hurried forth with wine to slake their thirst. Rhawn saw to the comfort of the men-at-arms, but then hurried quickly back into the hall to observe what was going on. She would not allow this Welsh wench to lord it over Everleigh folk, and push her mistress aside. No. That was not going to happen while there was breath in her body.
“Brother, you must have the master's chamber now,” she heard Mary saying to Rhys. The girl turned to Averil. “It is behind the hall, and quite large and comfortable.”
“But then where do you sleep?” Averil inquired. “You are Everleigh's mistress, Mary. Should not that chamber be yours?”
“It is a room for a married pair, Averil,” the girl replied. “I sleep in the solar with Rhawn. When I wed one day I shall sleep there with my husband, but for now you must have it. I see you brought your servant. She will have a place in the solar with us.”
“I am grateful for Dilys,” Averil said politely. She didn't like the looks that the serf woman, Rhawn, was casting at her. This was not going to be easy, and especially as Rhys seemed torn between her and the crone.
The supper was served. They had missed dinner, not arriving until late afternoon. There were game pies, pickled eel, half a ham, cheese, bread, and butter. And when it had been eaten a bowl of apples stewed in honey was brought forward to be served with sugar wafers and spiced wine.
“The meal was well prepared, and served. The food fresh,” Gorawen noted quietly to her daughter. “This Rhawn oversees well, but I like not how she looks at you.”
“I think she believes I mean to be the lady of the manor, Mother, and she is fiercely jealous of her little mistress's position. I know not what to do, for I cannot remain idle here. I have spoken to Rhys about it, but while he knows I am right, he wavers, for he says the FitzHughs prize loyalty, and Rhawn is loyal.”
“The creature is a serf!” Gorawen said, outraged. “You are his wife. I will not have you insulted in this way. I shall speak to your father.”
“Wait, I beg you,” Averil replied. “I think I might possibly have the answer to this problem, but first I will put into effect some of the skills you taught me last night as we traveled. While I certainly have no basis for comparison, I believe my husband a lusty man. If I please him mightily he may accede to my suggestions.”
“Wait another day to put your requests before him,” Gorawen said. “Tomorrow while he is in the fields overseeing the harvest, I shall teach you certain things that will bind him to your side forever, my daughter.” And Gorawen smiled knowingly.
“But may I practice my new skills on him this night, Mother? We have but coupled once, and having been on the road last night had no opportunity to couple again. He will be eager, I suspect,” Averil concluded.
Gorawen nodded. “Of course you must offer him pleasure, daughter,” she agreed.
She wondered what plan Averil was forming in order to get her way in this matter. Her child was a clever puss but she would need to be to dislodge this overproud serf.
When the evening drew to a close Mary invited Gorawen to share her bed in the solar where Rhawn, and Averil's servant, Dilys, would also sleep. Merin Pendragon and his son would each have a bed space in the hall. These were small alcoves in the stone walls of the house where bedding could be placed, making a comfortable sleeping spot for guests. Averil noted that Rhawn, in Mary's company, made certain that the fire was banked, the lamps and candles snuffed out, the doors locked and barred.
Taking his wife's hand Rhys led her into the master's chamber, which was located at the end of the hall behind the fireplace. He locked the door behind them, setting the bar in place afterwards. “This will be our wee hidey-hole,” he said. “We will have a bit of privacy here.” And having spoken he placed another log in the room's hearth, which shared a chimney with the hall.
Averil looked about. There were two narrow windows in the wall to the right of the large bed. There was a large wooden cupboard on another wall, a long square chest at the foot of the bed, a small settle with a cushion by the fireplace, and a single table by the bedside with a candlestick. There was no light in the room but for the fire. The candle by their bed was not lit. The floors were stone, but were covered with several woven mats. There were wooden shutters on the windows, but the chamber was high enough up that no one might peer into the room. But she would make window coverings for the winter, Averil decided. They would need them for warmth, for even narrow windows would let in the icy air. The bed curtains also needed replacement.
“I have never slept here,” Rhys said quietly. “This was my sire's room.”
“Well, until your sister is wedded you serve her as the master of the house,” Averil said in practical tones. “But the whole place needs refurbishing, my lord husband. It is musty, and from the look of it the mattress hasn't been replaced in your father's lifetime. Still, it will serve us until we may have a new one made.” She opened the cupboard doors. It was empty. “I shall store my garments here, and you will have the trunk at the bed's foot. Agreed?” She drew her tunic off, and folding it neatly, laid it on a shelf.
He came behind her and began to unlace her gown for her, his lips placing a kiss on the nape of her neck. “Agreed,” he said as he pushed the gown off her, his arm going about her slender waist. His fingers reached about to untie the ribbons of her chemise, letting the silk slide sensuously though his fingers. A hand plunged into the opening to cup a firm young breast. His lips continued kissing the back of her neck.
Averil arched her body upwards, then down, and began to slowly grind her buttocks into her husband's groin. “Ummm,” she murmured as he fondled her, smiling as she heard his sharp intake of breath.
He ceased his passion briefly in order to pull his cotte off. Averil turned about, shrugging the chemise from her body, reaching out to undo her husband's chemise. She pressed her naked young body against him, and he groaned as he felt every inch of her warm flesh touching him. “What a wanton you are proving to be,” he said low.
“Would you have me weeping and retiring, fending you off with little cries and prayers while you took your lordly rights of me? If that would please you, Rhys, I can be that sobbing, silly creature.” Her tongue snaked out to quickly run about her lips.
“So, wife,” he growled in her ear, “you are hot and ready to play love games with me.” He nipped hard at the fleshy pink lobe of that ear.
“Aye,” Averil told him, giving a little squeal of surprise. She boldly reached down to fondle his male member in her hand. The beast did not disappoint.
“You fled me the morning after,” he reminded her. “Yet the night before you were eager enough.”
“If we had coupled in the early morning I should not have wanted to depart Dragon's Lair that day,” Averil excused herself. “Was it not better to go then that we might be in our own bed this night?” Her little hand could barely contain him now.
He took her hand away, and kneeling before her parted her nether lips with supple fingers, and leaning forward began to lick at the delicate flesh now exposed to him.
Averil froze, surprised at first, but then she realized with shock that she liked what he was doing. The insistent tongue flicked back and forth, dodged and probed until she began to shiver with her pleasure. “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “Oh, yes!” She could feel her juices beginning to flow. It was at that moment he stood up, and pushing her against the rough stone wall, raised her up, his big hands cupping her buttocks, lowering her slowly onto his stiff manhood.
Averil's eyes grew wide with her surprise. This was so different from the first time. She could actually feel every inch of him as he pushed into her, and he was very, very big. “Ohh, sweet Jesu!” she gasped. And still he filled her. Her mouth opened as she struggled for air. Their eyes met. He could see the pleasure in hers. She could see the dark lust in his. She clung to him, her legs wrapped tightly now about his waist.
“Now, my wild Welsh wife, did you think one only could couple in a bed?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She was burning up, and she could feel him throbbing within her love passage.
He began the incredible rhythm that had driven her so wild with excitement two nights ago. His blue eyes held her light green eyes prisoner. She could not look away. It was the most intimate and powerful moment she had ever shared with anyone. Her heart was thundering in her ears, and she was damp with their exertions.
“I will have you whenever and wherever I choose,” he told her in a rough voice. “In our bed. In the stables on a pile of hay. On a hillside. Bent over the high board wondering if the servants will catch us.” He laughed softly. “On the floor before the hearth, Averil.” He thrust slowly and deliberately into her. “And you will yield yourself to me without question because I am your husband, and it is my right. And because you want it every bit as much as I do. Is that not right, Averil, my wild Welsh wife? You are as lustful a wench as any I have ever known.”
“Yes!” she answered him. “Yes, I am, my lord husband.” Her fingers stroked lightly against the back of his neck. “And each time I do this,” she pulled playfully at his ear, “you will think of this moment, and you will desire me. And then, my lord, you will have to wait, for I shall only tease you when it is impossible for you to take me off to have your way with me.” She leaned forward and kissed his mouth, her tongue brushing across his lips teasingly.
“What delights has your mother taught you?” he growled in her ear. Then he thrust harder and faster into her willing body.
“To drive you wild with pleasure, my lord husband,” Averil murmured, and her eyes closed slowly. “Oh, yes! Oh, that is so nice! Don't stop! Don't ever stop!”
His buttocks contracting and releasing, he pushed her over the edge even as his love juices exploded into her. He was gasping with his efforts. His throat was tight, and it hurt. His fingers tightened about the cheeks of her bottom, and he groaned with the feelings of satisfaction that swept over him.
If her head had exploded Averil wouldn't have been surprised. It was as if she were being bathed in a shower of stars and honied heat. Her body craved his juices, and she could feel her love passage sucking every last drop from him. Weakness suddenly engulfed her. Her legs fell away from his body. Desperately she clung to him, her head lolling against his shoulder as he picked her up and deposited her in their bed. She was surrounded by the fragrance of lavender. She felt the mattress give way next to her, and sighed gustily as he joined her. He took her hand in his, and they lay quietly side by side recovering their strength.

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