The Wolf and the Dove (55 page)

Aislinn smiled and gazed at him with loving eyes. “You are in a thoughtful mood today, my lord. You do not often ponder a woman’s mind.”

He turned to her, his gaze warming at the soft beauty of her. “Of late I find there is more to a wench than rosy breasts and thrusting hips.” He grinned slowly, his eyes sweeping her with passion’s fire and leaned close to her, resting a bold hand alongside her thigh. “But of the two, mind and body, I vow there’s more pleasure for a man in the latter.”

Aislinn giggled her delight then caught her breath as his mouth pressed warmly against her throat, sending quickening fires shooting through every nerve.

“The babe—,” she whispered breathlessly, but his lips found hers silencing them, and she found herself too weak to resist. A noise outside the door made them bolt apart, and with cheeks glowing, Aislinn rose to put her sleeping son in the cradle beside the hearth, while Wulfgar came to his feet and faced the fire as if to warm his hands. Bolsgar entered, carrying over his shoulder a bag of quail for the feast that was planned on the morrow. He gave them a hearty greeting and as he went to give the birds to Haylan, Wulfgar watched the old man, chafed a bit with the interruption. It seemed of late there was always someone or some matter demanding his or Aislinn’s attention. He had bided his time after the baby’s birth, not wanting to press the issue too hurriedly, but now it seemed that every moment worked against him. If the babe was not squalling to be fed, some serf came seeking her care or wanting to consult the lord. Then when the moment seemed finally at hand and they were alone
together in their chambers, he would see the tired droop of her shoulders and know he must bide his time a bit longer.

Over his shoulder he watched her move about, following the gentle sway of her hips with his gaze, and his eyes took on a hungry look. She has grown slimmer than before, he mused, yet there is a fullness about her that speaks of woman and no longer a girl.

Was this to be his lot? To find her ever close at hand yet never know again the privacy with her that had been before. Was this marriage? To have a babe more oft between them than finding a moment to share long suffering passions? He sighed and turned his stare to the fire. Winter comes, he thought. And the nights are long. He would have more leisure to seek her out. She can not sport the babe forever. He had taken her first in a quick, lusty moment. He would not quell at doing the same again.

Aislinn raised her gaze and saw Maida standing at the door peering timidly in. She noted that her mother was well washed and had combed her hair and wore clean garments. She found pleasure in the thought that Maida might love her grandchild and would abandon her mad dreams of vengeance. She could name no better balm than a wee babe.

Lifting a hand, Aislinn beckoned her mother in and with a quick nervous glance at Wulfgar’s back, the woman scurried in and went to crouch beside the cradle, drawing herself into a small knot as if to escape the Norman’s eye. Wulfgar gave her little heed. Instead, his stare followed her daughter across the hall as she went to seek out HayIan on the matter of the morrow’s fare.

A day of feasting and rejoicing was planned to celebrate the harvest and its good yield. A boar hunt would see the knights and their ladies mounted at the noon hour to either slay or drive the beasts from the fields. It would be a gay event and one they all looked forward to.

As Wulfgar stood before the hearth, the knights and Sweyn entered to pour themselves a horn of ale and toast the morrow. Having little else to occupy him at the moment, Wulfgar joined them, and when Bolsgar returned, it was a merry group. The afternoon dwindled into evening and the evening into morning and their voices could still be heard in the hall as Aislinn tossed upon the bed in the chamber above, fretting at Wulfgar’s delay at coming. She could not know that whenever he sought to leave the men, a hand would draw him back and another would replenish his cup.

The gurgling sounds of Bryce rooting for his breakfast awakened Aislinn and she opened her eyes to find that Wulfgar was already up and donning his clothes against the day. She lay still a moment, admiring his long, muscular frame and his tawny good looks, but the baby’s cries became insistent and there was no help for it. She rose, slipping on a loose kirtle, and went to sit before the hearth to nurse the babe. Bryce quieted at her breast, and she lifted her eyes to meet her husband’s and smiled a bit devilishly.

“My lord, is it that you find the sport of drinking more to your liking than of old? I vow the cock crowed before you saw our bed.”

He grinned. “Forsooth, cherie, it did crow twice before that pillow felt my weary head, but ‘twas not to my liking. My knights ever feted me with tales of yore and I could do naught but stand and bear the pain.”

The sight of her made Wulfgar’s blood run searing through his veins, but there were loud sounds coming from the hall below and he knew that his men would soon be coming to fetch him if he did not shortly present himself. With a sigh he brushed a kiss upon Aislinn’s brow and, shrugging into his leather jerkin, left the room to join the group below.

When Aislinn came downstairs it seemed that she had entered a madhouse. Laughter and shouting came from every corner. The uproar stunned her ears at first and she could make no sense of it all. Bryce clung to her, somewhat afraid of all the noise. She spread a pelt in a corner of the hearth where he could be warm and yet could view the rushings of those about him. She was careful to place him near where Wulfgar stood with his knights and merchants of the towns so that they could watch him and keep him safe from the hounds that were given to wandering about the hall. The dogs barked as they ran underfoot, and the odors of cooking filled the room. Bets were made on horses, first boar, largest boar and who would be the first to drop his spear. Gowain, the youngest of the knights, suffered much ribbing over his fair face, especially as Hylnn was caught with fits of giggles whenever she came near him. Crude jests were tossed across the room and bandied back and forth. Men laughed and women shrieked as their nether parts
were fondled in passing. Aislinn might have suffered the same had she been wife to any other besides Wulfgar. Though there were many tempted, the men kept a respectful distance, not wanting to test the point of his blade.

Near the hearth loud curses rose from the group of men as a great hound fled from beneath their feet with yelps of pain from well-laid boots. Wulfgar’s voice came loud and clear.

“Who sees to these hounds? They roam the hall unfettered and would nip the ankles of our guests. Who sees to these hounds?”

No one answered and then his voice came louder.

“Kerwick? Where is Kerwick, sheriff of the hall? Come here, sir.”

Kerwick blushed and made his way to where Wulfgar stood. “Yea, my lord?”

Wulfgar took him by the shoulder and lifting a horn to the group of men who stood beside him, spoke with humor heavy in his voice. “Good Kerwick, your friendship with the hounds is known by all, and knowing them so well, you must be made master of the hounds. Think you able for this job?”

“Aye, milord,” Kerwick readily replied. “Indeed, I have a score to settle. Where is the whip?”

A great lash was handed to him and he hefted it to crack its end loudly.

“Methinks that reddish mongrel was the one who set his teeth upon my thigh.” He rubbed the place, remembering the nips on a cold night. “I vow, my lord, he will hunt well today or bear the bite of this good weapon.”

Wulfgar chortled “ ’Tis settled then, good master of the hounds.” He clapped the younger man heartily on the back. “Get them from underfoot. Put them to their leashes and see that they hunger for the hunt. We’ll have no fat-bellied hounds crawling in among the trees.”

The men laughed and a toast was drunk. Indeed, it was amazing to see how much ale was needed to keep these voices rich and full.

Bryce whimpered near the hearth and Aislinn pushed aside great shoulders and heavy chests to make a way to him. Wulfgar stepped out of her path with a stiff decorous bow, sweeping his arm before him, but as she bent to lift the mewling babe and comfort him, his hand descended upon her behind with a lusty familiarity that made Aislinn straighten much faster than she had planned.

“My lord!” she gasped and whirled, clutching the babe to her.

Wulfgar drew back and flung up a hand in feigned fear, adding to the guffaws of his companions. Though chafed at his public caress, she could not hold back her laughter at his manner.

“My lord,” she chided gently, the corners of her mouth lifting in a winsome smile. “Haylan is across the hall. Did you perhaps mistake my gangling frame for her fairer form?”

At the mention of the widow’s name, Wulfgar lost some of his cheerfulness and raised a brow at his wife. It was only at the sparkle in her eyes that he eased and grew again more careless in his cups.

They lifted mugs and drank again until Bolsgar paused and held his jaw agape. They turned, following his stare and found Gwyneth mincing down the stairs in full regalia for the forthcoming hunt. She joined the group near the hearth. Casting a disparaging eye at Aislinn holding the babe, she turned to Kerwick.

“Is it overmuch to presume that you would make a horse ready for me today?”

He bobbed his head and looking to Wulfgar for excuse he left the group, then Bolsgar came forward and dipped a sweeping bow before his daughter.

“Does my lady mean to join the peasants today?” he mocked.

“Indeed, dear father, I would not miss this gay party for all the treasures in England. I’ve been too much the maiden here of late and would be out and seek some genteel exercise. ’Tis the first I’ve noticed in this place.”

And thus having chastened them all for their crudity, she turned and made her way to the table and sampled the foods being prepared there.

The rest of the morning was mostly lost in the mad hustle to make preparations for both the hunt and the feast. Before the noon hour Aislinn took the babe and went to her chamber where she filled his belly and laid him down to sleep, leaving Hlynn to watch over him. When she again joined the group, she was dressed in a long full skirted gown of yellow and brown, sturdily made for the sport of the hunt. The diners mostly took their meat and bread standing, for there was little room to sit. A band of wandering minstrels entered the yard, there to entertain the folk with gay music. The horses were led out and Gwyneth found little cause for joy, for the one that Kerwick had chosen for her was the small roan that had borne Aislinn to London. It was a sturdy horse and one quite well-mannered but it lacked the long-legged grace of Aislinn’s dapple-gray.

The hunting party rode off. Kerwick held as many leashes in his hands as there were hounds following him, and the young man had much to do to keep them straight. The dogs sensed the excitement of the chase and bayed and snarled at one another as they were led along behind the hunting party.

The day was gay and all but Gwyneth made merry and joked. Aislinn rode beside Wulfgar and laughed at his ready wit, covering her ears at his ribald songs. Gwyneth’s hand was heavy on the reins, and the poor punch bridled and pranced and worried at the bit. The hunters left the road and soon topped a hill and there before them in the glade at the edge of the forest could be seen a herd of swine with several large boars present. Kerwirk leapt from his horse and made haste to set the dogs free. The hounds were off with baying voices marking their progress. It was their duty to see the boars brought to bay, those great shaggy beasts of the woods, bold, black, and vicious with long tusks sprouting from their jaws. Once at a stand, the hounds would hold them until the riders came. This was mean duty and it took courage to face a charging hog. The spears were short, for much of the hunting was done in heavy brush and some arm’s length behind the point a crossbar was heavily bound, this to keep the swine, so
hard to kill, from charging up the spear and tearing at the hands that held it.

As they entered the woods, Aislinn and Gwyneth were left far behind, Aislinn holding back, well aware she was unused to this harsh activity. She reined her mare in and found herself apace with Gwyneth, who had found a stout switch and was beating her horse mercilessly trying to make it heed her signals on the reins. As the small mare sensed Aislinn beside her she quieted and Gwyneth held her hand, realizing she betrayed a vicious mood. They rode along apace and Aislinn shrugged away Gwyneth’s abuse of the horse and finally sought to make some light comment. There was a crispness of autumn in the air and the smell of leaves heavy on the ground beneath the bright-colored trees.

“ ’Tis a marvelous day,” she sighed.

Gwyneth’s reply was short. “ ’Twould be if I had a proper mount.”

Aislinn laughed. “I would offer you mine, but I’ve come to treasure her.”

Gwyneth sneered at the gentle chiding. “You always manage to better yourself, especially where men are concerned. Yea, you gain twofold what you lose.”

Aislinn smiled. “Nay, ten or a hundred fold, you can say, since I lost Ragnor, too.”

It was too much. Gwyneth, already sorely pricked, flew into a rage. “Saxon slut,” she snarled. “Have care whose name you degrade.”

She raised the switch and would have struck Aislinn with it but she reined aside and the blow fell instead against the dappled mare’s flanks. Unused to this crude use, the gray started and hurtled into the heavier brush beneath the trees. She had gone but a few yards when she struck a small thorn tree and twisted away from the sudden pain of the barbs, causing the reins to jerk from Aislinn’s hands. The steed slipped, half fell, and then reared, throwing her rider from her back. Aislinn struck the ground and lay stunned, trying to shake the fog from her head. A dark shape, outlined by the sun, came to stand above her and vaguely she recognized Gwyneth on her horse. The woman laughed and then spurred her horse away. Long moments passed before Aislinn struggled upright, but she winced at the pain in her thigh. She rubbed it and decided that she had only bruised herself in the fall. She steadied herself and dragged free of the heavy brush.