Authors: Elizabeth Rose
“I didn’t know that,” she said. “So is that why only the baron and portsmen with ships are free from taxes and not the merchants in town?”
“That’s right. King Edward needs every shilling he can get, and that’s why not everyone in New Romney is tax exempt. Only those who lend their ships to him in war.”
“But what does this have to do with Nicholas not getting along with his father and brother?”
“I’m just saying – Nicholas is jealous of his brother, and his father doesn’t think he’s achieved enough in life.”
“Were there just the two siblings?” she asked curiously, turning back and running her hand over the beautiful tapestry as she spoke.
“Nay. There are three brothers. But the youngest one is from the earl’s mistress. I thought you knew that.”
“Nay, why would I? So what happened to his other brother? Does he live nearby?”
The squire looked at her as if she’d gone daft. “Muriel, you ate your meal next to him today.”
“No, I didn’t,” she objected. “I sat between Lord Nicholas and Brother Germain.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh, my! So are you saying Brother Germain is Nicholas’s brother?”
“Half-brother. The third born, and illegitimate, and that is why he went into the friary.”
“Aye,” she said in thought. “I suppose the third child normally does end up there. Especially if he’s a bastard. But what, pray tell, does any of this have to do with me?”
“I can’t say for sure, but I think Nicholas is embarrassed that you’re here and sitting at his side at his table.”
“Why? That’s ridiculous. I’m only his clothier. I’m sure he’ll explain it to his family.”
“Hired help doesn’t usually sit above the salt,” he pointed out, and she knew it was true.
“Roger, are you saying . . . does Lord Nicholas . . . he couldn’t possibly . . .”
Roger just nodded his head. “He likes you. A lot. And of course his brother and father will never approve. Nicholas is from nobility and any woman he marries has to be of noble blood as well.”
“Marries?” She laughed. “You almost sound as if you think we’re getting married. I assure you, our relationship is one of business only.”
“Is it?” Roger just looked at her and raised a brow. “I have to go back to the great hall now, my lady, so please don’t leave this room.”
“Roger! Stop referring to me as my lady. I’m only the daughter of a merchant and don’t appreciate you trying to show humor in this situation.”
“Did I call you my lady?” Roger looked as if he really didn’t remember. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It just must have slipped out.”
He left the room, and Muriel felt her body shaking. This was the second time today someone had called her my lady. And Nicholas was the other person – who had thankfully stopped himself in midsentence.
She walked back over to the window and looked down to the courtyard. A knight and his lady exited the great hall, and she marveled at the beautiful gown and headpiece the woman wore, and also the elegant tunic trimmed in fur amidst the array of shiny weapons that were donned by the man.
A falconer strolled out of the mews, placing a falcon on the arm of the lady, and a stableboy walked by guiding one of the finest horses she’d ever seen in her life. Mummers and minstrels strolled through the courtyard, and the knight threw coins at their feet in appreciation for the entertainment. She gazed out past the stone well and the huge orchard with many varieties of fruit trees, up to the battlements of the manor where the guards were switching their posts.
Everything here was so grand, that it really was a small version of a castle. She remembered how Cecily had hinted that there could be something between her and the baron, and now Roger did the same as well.
Could everyone see something that she couldn’t? And could this whole thing be an omen? “Lady . . . Romney,” she said softly, testing the title on her tongue. Her mother had always said she’d marry someone handsome, strong, protective, and very rich someday. Could a mere merchant’s daughter really end up as a baron’s wife? And should she – a woman who had lost almost everything in the last week – even be thinking this way in the first place?
“Father, and Brother, to what do I owe this surprise visit?” Nicholas walked up to greet his family, having a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Romney, call us by our titles as you should,” growled the earl of Pensworth.
“Aye,” echoed Nicholas’s brother.
Nicholas took a deep breath and released it. “Earl Pensworth, Lord Reynard, so nice to see you. Please, come join us for a meal.”
“You’re eating now?” His pompous brother, Reynard, strutted up to the dais, looking down at their half-brother. “Brother Germain, why is the meal now instead of tonight as is proper? Is this how it’s done in a mere manor house these days?” He looked over to Nicholas and smiled.
“It is what the baron ordered,” replied the monk.
“Who were you sharing a trencher with?” asked his father, walking behind the dais and sitting down in Nicholas’s armed chair.
“Yes, who was that wench?” Reynard sat in the chair vacated by Muriel. “Comely, but dressed rather simply, I noticed.”
“That was Muriel Draper, the merchant’s daughter from the village.” Brother Germain so eagerly volunteered the information.
“A commoner sitting at your dais?” snapped his father, sitting suddenly upright with his back rigid. “Nicholas, addled decisions such at that is the reason why you don’t have a castle to your name.”
“
Baron
Nicholas,” he made sure to say. “And while I may not have a castle, I do have a title given to me by the king himself that I have earned. My title is Lord of New Romney and Baron of the Cinque Ports if I must remind you. I am a landowner of hundreds of acres as well. Now tell me, where is mother? Nicholas hoped to change the subject.
“No women came with us on our travels,” said the earl, taking a bite of the prime cut of meat right off of Nicholas’s trencher. “Besides, she is ill.”
“Ill?” This alarmed Nicholas. “Is it something to be concerned with?”
“Nay, she’ll be fine,” said his father with a wave of his hand.
“She’s back in Pensworth with my wife and children,” said Reynard. “That is, she’s with the only grandchildren our parents will ever have, and also the only future heirs to the Vaughn estate.”
“Stop it,” said Nicholas. “While we know Brother Germain won’t have heirs – even if they were legit, I’m certain I will some day.”
“Hah!” Reynard laughed and put his feet up on the table, sucking down some wine. “You’ve dismissed all the ladies we’ve sent your way. So who will you be marrying . . . that merchant’s daughter?” He and his father laughed, and even Germain smiled.
“As Baron of the Cinque Ports, the king has given me permission to make my own choice in marriage. So, aye, if I choose to marry a commoner, than so be it.”
The earl slammed his hands on the table and got to his feet. “You always were the defiant one of all my sons,” he snapped. “Well, I’m your father, and I don’t agree. Nicholas, you are five and twenty years of age now, and have never been married. It is time you marry, but you must marry within your status. That is, a noblewoman. It’s the proper thing to do. The House of Vaughn has not been sullied in generations and I won’t have you doing it now.”
“Oh really.” Nicholas looked over to the illegitimate monk when he said it. If anyone sullied the family name, it was his father, not him. Nicholas didn’t want to have this conversation with his family again. And he felt relieved that the alliance his father had made, betrothing him to a baby years ago hadn’t worked out. By the time the girl was of marrying age, she was already dead. He needed to change the conversation quickly. “The trade fair as well as my banquet isn’t for a month yet,” said Nicholas. “Why are you here so soon?”
“We’ve come early to see how your port operates and to see how you plan for a banquet. We also came to do a little trading on the docks. We heard some elaborate foreign trade ships were spotted crossing the channel, and we plan on bringing back grain, spices, and weaponry to Pensworth that’ll raise some noble eyebrows.”
“This is my port, and as baron, I have first choice of any goods that are imported,” Nicholas explained.
“If you can outbid us, brother, than so be it,” sneered Reynard.
Nicholas didn’t want to have to bid for goods against his own family. While he had just as much money as them, they’d drive the price up and he’d end up spending more in the end. They probably came here just to spite him since they knew he dropped more money on fine imported goods than any baron up and down the coast.
He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table, and spoke in a low voice so the rest of the occupants in the room wouldn’t hear him.
“Take your stinking boots off my table, Brother. And Father, I’ll not listen to you and your demands in my own home.”
He turned to leave, and heard Reynard from behind him.
“Going to go bed that merchant’s daughter now?” he chuckled. “After all, the noble ladies aren’t to your liking since you truly belong in the middle class.”
“He’d better not bed her, and certainly not marry her,” warned his father. “If he plants his seed in her and I end up with a bastard grandchild of a mere merchant, I’ll be the brunt of every jest back in Pensworth.”
“You can stay in the west wing chamber while you’re here,” Nicholas said without turning around. “Sir Stanwick will escort you.”
“Of course, my lords, let me show you to your chamber,” he heard Sir Stanwick say as he stormed away.
He took the steps two at a time, getting to his solar just as his squire was leaving.
“My lord? You are here already?” asked Roger.
“Sleep in the great hall tonight, and try to keep my father and brother away from my door,” ordered Nicholas, angrier than hell because of the turn the night had taken. He’d not have them coming into his home stirring up trouble. They had no right nor power here, and he’d have to just remind them of it.
If he wanted to sleep with a merchant’s daughter, then he would! He entered the room and shut the door – sliding the bar hold in place. He slowly turned around to see Muriel standing there looking like an angel.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, as he walked toward her. “Is there trouble with your family?” She laid a gentle hand on his arm as he approached her.
His gaze fastened to her hand and slowly traveled up her arm. He wanted her. Desperately. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was attracted to her, or because his father and brother told him he shouldn’t bed her. Either way, it didn’t matter. Tonight he would make love with the merchant’s daughter, and no one was going to stop him.
Muriel released her hand from Nicholas’s arm and took a step backwards. He had a hungry, dangerous look in his eyes and she felt a tingle run up her spine in an involuntary response to his perusal.
“Lord Nicholas?” she asked meekly, and watched as his hands went to his weaponbelt. He pulled his sword from the scabbard and held it up in the candlelight for a mere second, the glimmer of the metal shining in the dimly lit room. It was long and large and she heard herself gasp at the mere length and strength of his weapon.
“I’m Baron of the Cinque Ports and Lord of New Romney,” he said, laying his sword on a nearby table.
“Yes, you are,” she said, feeling her heart about beating from her chest. He was scaring her. His power as well as his essence filled the room, leaving her feeling suddenly closed in. She found it hard to breathe. Yet at the same time, his manly presence and his untamed prowess excited her beyond control. She’d never felt this way before.
“No one tells me what I can or cannot do,” he growled. “Do you understand?” His eyes stayed fastened on her as he undid the buckle of his weaponbelt and dropped it to the ground at his feet with a loud thunk.
“Of course. I understand . . . my lord,” she spoke softly. He kicked off his boots next and took a step toward her. She felt like a helpless doe being stalked by a hungry wolf. And she could not run because she was in the wolf’s den.
“If I want to purchase imported goods at a certain price, I’ll do it.” His surcoat came off next, and then his undertunic, leaving him standing there bare-chested – a glorious spectacle to her eyes which she eagerly drank in, wanting her fill.
“Aye,” she said, her eyes trailing across his sturdy chest, settling on his erect, dark nipples. She felt his lust, and it intrigued her. She wanted to feel more. The small space between them suddenly closed as he took another step toward her, so close now that their chests almost touched. Once again she found herself backing away from him, and this time she felt the down-stuffed sleeping pallet against the back of her legs, stopping her from going further.
“If I want to eat my main meal at a certain time, I will,” he continued. “And no one will question my choice.”
“Of course . . . I mean of course not,” she sputtered, not certain how to answer. She wondered if he was complaining about her now, since he’d known she’d been hungry earlier when he’d decided to change the scheduled mealtime. “We could have waited until tonight,” she apologized.
He untied his braies as well as his hose and dropped them to the ground next. Her mouth fell open as she realized she was now staring at his magnificent naked body. His chest was wide and corded with muscle, and his waist narrow, but his legs thick and long and strong. And below his waist dangled a fully erect weapon of love, so hard and straight that she couldn’t look away now if she wanted to.
“And if I want to bed a merchant’s daughter, then no one is going to tell me otherwise.”
“A - m – merchant’s daughter,” she repeated, feeling like she was in a trance. That was her! He was talking about coupling with her right now, and she couldn’t dare tell him otherwise after the speech he’d just given her.
He took one more step forward, and this time his length brushed against her hand. She pulled back sharply, startled at the feel of it, and gasped.
“Muriel, I want you,” he said in a hot, sultry whisper, reaching out and putting his hands on her shoulders. His fingers made small lazy circles over the top of her clothes. It felt so sensuous and intimate, but nothing compared to what he did next. He slowly bent forward and nibbled at her ear.
A wave of raw desire and excitement rushed through her body, and as he kissed her neck, she threw back her head and closed her eyes. It felt so good. So right. So pleasurable that she never wanted him to stop.
“I – want you, too,” she whispered.
Then ever so gently he brushed his lips against hers, and together their mouths joined, forming the union of a kiss. The softness of the harsh warrior’s mouth surprised her, and she found herself wanting more. His mouth lingered, and the kiss lengthened, and when it did, she felt his expert fingers unfastening the ties of her bodice. Part of her wanted to push away from him, but another part of her wickedly wanted him to have his way with her. It was something she’d been waiting for her entire life. Not many spinsters would be able to say they’d bedded a noble. This was a true experience, and she wanted to enjoy it to the fullest.
He slipped his tongue into her mouth the same time he slipped the shoulders of her gown off her body. Her heart raced, her body heated, and she could only imagine what it would feel like to have him inside her right now.
He cupped her breasts in his hands right over her clothes, and if he hadn’t kissed her again and put his tongue into her mouth at the same time, she would have cried out in delight at the euphoric feeling. Never had she felt this way with the boy from town.
“You intoxicate me like no woman ever has, and I don’t understand it at all.” He slipped his hands under her chemise and rolled her nipples with the tips of his fingers as he spoke, and she felt herself go taut. “You are like the illusive hind which every nobleman desires to bag. You are unique, and desirable, and every man’s secret dream.” She wasn’t sure she liked being compared to a hind, nor his choice of words when he said he wanted to bag her, but it seemed petty at a time like this, and she shook the thought from her head.
His hands felt afire as they caressed the bare skin of her breasts, and she could think of nothing else.
He was saying in his own way that he desired to make love with her, and that was more excitement than she ever thought she’d feel in this lifetime. Heat pulsed between her legs, and before she knew what he was doing, he took hold of the front of her gown, gripping it tightly in his clenched fists. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or just lustful. Then, like an animal, he ripped the cloth open along with her shift, exposing her bare breasts to his hungry green eyes.
“Gorgeous, but how do they taste?” His head dropped down and his tongue flicked out, bringing her nipples to harder peaks, tho she didn’t think it was possible. He opened his mouth wider and suckled at her breasts hungrily, about driving her out of her mind.
“Ohhh,” she moaned, grabbing onto his hair and arching her back, pushing herself further into his mouth.
“You want this too, Muriel, don’t you? Tell me the truth.”
His hands were gripping the bottom of her gown now, pulling it up higher and higher, ever so slowly as he spoke. The anticipation of his next action had her teetering on the edge. Then she felt the heat of his hand at the top of her thigh and sucked in a deep breath.
“Yesssss,” she whispered, her eyes still closed, as his hand slowly slid higher. “I . . . do want this,” she admitted, knowing that it would do no good in the midst of the situation to lie, nor to deny a man who was a noble right now.
Then he obviously realized she wore no braies under her gown, and his hands cupped her bare buttocks cheeks, squeezing them as if he were testing for ripe melons at the market.
“No braies? Really?” he whispered into her ear, pushing his hardened form against the juncture of her thighs.
“Nay,” she said, wetting her lips with her tongue. She felt her mouth go dry and she could barely find the words to answer him. “It is too easy to get raped if one were to have to lift their gown and then pull down braies to relieve themselves in a public place. It is easier and safer just to lift the skirt slightly without showing any skin.”
“Ahh, well we don’t have that problem here,” he told her. His hand cupped her womanhood, and before she knew it, his finger had slipped between her folds and she felt him enter her body.
She squirmed against his palm, feeling a wetness between her thighs. He pulled back a little and removed his finger, pulling her hips up against him tightly next. “You’re not a virgin,” he said, as if he had been testing the waters before he took the plunge. She knew she couldn’t fool him. She didn’t want him to stop because of it, but neither could she do anything but give him the answer he wanted right now.
“Nay, my lord. I am not.”
“When is the last time you laid with another man?”
Her eyes popped open at that. Did he think she was a harlot that she’d be doing it regularly? “I’ve only coupled with a man once and it was two years ago.”
“Good.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Because.” He ripped the rest of the clothes from her body and she felt the cool air kiss her skin in a promise of what was to come. “If a child comes from this union, I need to know it is mine and not a mere stableboy’s.”
“A ch-child?” The thought terrified her yet excited her at the same moment.
“Are you against the possibility of this happening?”
“I . . . I . . . nay,” she said, feeling dizzy and giddy. If the thought of having Lord Nicholas Vaughn inside her wasn’t exciting enough, the thought of possibly having his child – a noble’s baby - was enough to make her go mad with desire.
“Take me,” she told him, reaching up and grabbing his face in her hands, kissing him deeply on the mouth.
“You are a little vixen aren’t you?” he said, pushing her away from him, sending her sprawling across the bed. “But I told you, no one tells me what to do.”
She thought for a moment he was going to turn and walk away, and a sharp pain spread across her heart. She couldn’t let him leave her now – not like this. Not when she wanted him more than anything in life. And not while she was naked and so vulnerable. She desired him – she needed him, and she couldn’t let him just walk away right now. Still, she couldn’t make it sound like she was telling him what to do either.
“Whatever you wish, my lord.” As he glanced back at her over his shoulder, she did something she never thought she’d do in this lifetime in front of a man. She wasn’t proud of it, but being desperate for what she wanted wasn’t a new game for her lately either.
She grabbed one of her own breasts with one hand, and the other went between her thighs. Then she closed her eyes and moaned, pretending like she was pleasuring herself.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
“Don’t mind me, my lord,” she said, and purposely raised the intensity of the situation by moaning louder. “Ohhhhhh, ahhhhh,” she faked her pleasure, peeking out of her half-closed eyes to see him reach down below his waist to grab his hardened form.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, stretching one of his large legs over her body and settling himself atop her. He positioned himself between her thighs and slowly slipped inside.
This time her intake of breath at the size of him was real. This time her moan of passion was not faked.
He reached over, and holding himself up on his elbows he kissed her once more as his form stretched her slightly. “Don’t think I don’t know you were faking that,” he said in a low voice. “But right now, I don’t even care.” With that he pushed his entire form into her body and she arched up off the bed at the action.
“You like that?” he asked, and it was all she could do to nod. Her breathing labored, and as he thrust in and out vigorously like a man possessed, she found herself climbing . . . climbing higher. Then his hand was on her breast again for a second, and she felt the slight scrape of his nails over her hardened nipple. She cried out loudly this time, and when she did his thrusts became faster and faster.
He sounded like an animal, growling at the back of his throat, and she loved every minute of it. The intense heat rose between them, and as she reached her climax, she heard him cry out as well. Then she felt something happening inside her, and the release of a liquid passion between her thighs. She knew it was the explosion of his seed as he spilled his pent-up desires, coming to his climax as well.
He started to pull away after that, but she grabbed onto him and wrapped her legs around his hips feeling her excitement rising a second time. “Again,” she said, feeling herself starting to climb from the thought of his seed within her.
“Muriel, it doesn’t work that way for men,” he said, but she couldn’t understand since she felt as if she could go on forever. “Again,” she said. “Please,” she begged him desperately as he pulled out from her body, and just shook his head.
“Again,” she said with tears in her eyes, so close to completion that if she couldn’t have him she thought she’d go mad.
“Nay, we’re done here,” he said, but she wasn’t going to let him walk away. She got to her knees and pulled him back down to the bed as he tried to stand. As he fell, she pushed him onto his back. Then she quickly straddled him and rode his leg, screaming out her passion loudly, her voice echoing off the high stone chamber walls. Then sated and spent, she collapsed atop him, and she happily felt his arms encircle her in a lover’s embrace. One of his hands pushed back a stray strand of her hair and he kissed the top of her head.
“Are you certain you’ve only done this once before?” he asked.
“Aye,” she said, laying her head on his chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart that matched her own.
“Damn, you are a wildcat in bed. That really excites me, Muriel.” Then when she thought it was all over, he started kissing her and fondling her again. “Bid the devil, I don’t understand this . . . but I think . . . I think . . . I could do it again, too.”