To Love Again (52 page)

He grinned wickedly. “I do not think you will need it, sweeting. Wulf’s passion is poorly pent up. He is set to explode with it.” He chuckled. “But give him the chance, cousin, and you’ll have no need for yon little charcoal burner.”

“Is nothing a secret in this hall?” she demanded, her cheeks red with her embarrassment. Did everyone know she and Wulf weren’t coupling?

“Very little,” Corio answered her dryly. Then he took the brazier from her. “But if you insist, cousin,” he said, grinning mischievously.

When the men had gone back to their assigned tasks, Cailin clambered back up the ladder to the solar. Corio, bless him, had had far more sense than she. He had seen that the chests they used to store their personal belongings had been brought up into the room, as well. She fussed with the positioning of her loom and its stool so she would have the proper light. The table was not quite centered, Cailin thought, but she righted its position and straightened the chairs.

She filled their bed space with fresh hay she lugged up the ladder, and mixed it with lavender sprigs, handfuls of rose petals, and sweet herbs. The feather bed, in its practical cotton ticking, she slipped into a cover of sky-blue silk that she had made for it. It was an outrageous luxury, but who would know but them? Fluffing the feather bed, she placed it over the hay, where it settled on the fragrant herbage. Removing
the small alabaster lamp from the niche in the bed space, she filled it with scented oil, and putting a wick into it, replaced the lamp in its space. She lay a fox coverlet across the foot of the bedspace. The bedspace was now ready for occupants.

Cailin looked about the solar. Although it needed wall hangings and more pieces of furniture to make it really comfortable, they would manage for the time being. At least it was ready for habitation. Although privacy was not something the Saxons held dear, Cailin was used to it, having been raised with it. Wulf would not find it a burden, she thought, smiling. Then she heard him calling her from the hall below. Cailin scrambled down the ladder from the solar, hurrying to greet her husband.

“We have finished the defenses for the hall,” he told her proudly, obviously well-pleased. “The gates have just now been fitted to the entry.”

“The barns within the walls are finished also,” she told him, “and the harvest is almost all in. I did not go to the fields today, for I was about other business, my lord.” She looked askance at his filthy condition. “You need a bath, Wulf Ironfist. You stink of your labor.”

“I am too tired to go to the stream and bathe,” he told her. “Let it be, lambkin. I will bathe in the morning.”

“Now,”
she said firmly, in a tone he had not heard her use before, “and not in an icy stream, either, my lord. Sit by the fire, and have some ale while I make the preparations. I have spent the better part of this day making the solar fit for our habitation. I will not sleep in the hall another night, Wulf Ironfist. If Aurora is to have a brother, we must have some time to ourselves. There is gossip already! The world will not come to an end because we seek our privacy each night.”

“Should not our daughter sleep in the solar, too?” he queried her mischievously, cocking a bushy, tawny eyebrow quizzically.

“For now,” Cailin answered him severely, “Aurora will remain in the hall, with Nellwyn to care for her.” Then she left him and went to the end of the room, calling instructions to her household servants.

He watched, somewhat astounded, as a large oaken tub was slowly rolled into a corner of the hall. He had never seen it before, and he realized she must have had their cooper make it. She had great foresight, he decided. A hot bath would feel good. A line of male servants began running back and forth with pails of steaming water which they dumped into the great tub. It took fully half of an hour to fill the tub to Cailin’s satisfaction. While it was being done, she marshaled soap and other implements necessary to bathing. Then she signaled him, and he arose, walking down the hall to where she waited, tapping an impatient foot.

“Remove your clothing, my lord,” she said, then ordered the serving men to place screening about the tub. As he took each item of clothing from his tired body, she gathered it up into a pile. When he was entirely naked, Cailin handed it over the screen to the woman appointed laundress for the hall.

At her command, he climbed sheepishly into the tub. He was astounded when she stripped off her own clothing and joined him. “You mean to make my bath a pleasant experience, I see,” he said, grinning lecherously at her.

“I mean to make it a thorough one,” she countered sternly. “ ‘Twill not be easy. A Roman bath is best, but this is better than nothing.” She took up her strigil and began to scrape the sweaty dirt from his neck, shoulders, and chest. The water in their tub just barely concealed her breasts, but Wulf’s body was exposed from his waist up.

Reaching out, he cupped the twin orbs in his big hands and began to play with them as she worked. “We must begin to bathe again every day,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss her earlobe.

She giggled. “Behave yourself, Wulf Ironfist. How can I do a proper job of bathing you if you distract me so?”

“Am I indeed distracting you, lambkin?” he said softly, his tongue swirling about the shell of her ear. He slipped a hand below the waterline to give her right buttock a gentle squeeze.

Her violet eyes twinkled at him. “You are
very
distracting, my lord,” she admitted to him, “and you must not be, or I
shall never get done. If I do not, we shall never reach the solar, where our newly prepared bed space is awaiting us. There is food and wine there aplenty, my love. Once we have gained the privacy of that chamber, and drawn the ladder up behind us, no one will be able to reach us.” Then she pressed herself against him teasingly. “Do you not wish to be alone with me, Wulf, my husband?” She ran her tongue over his lips and then kissed him quickly.

His aquamarine-blue eyes smoldered at her. Their look was eloquent beyond measure. “Finish your task, lambkin,” he ground out. “It is far past time Aurora had a brother, and if you are not finished quickly, we shall begin our endeavor right here in this tub!”

Cailin smiled alluringly at him, and without another word began to smear soft soap over his skin with gentle fingers. She bathed him and then sent him from the tub to dry himself while she washed her own body. A fresh tunic, barely covering his thighs, was set out for him. Cailin, exiting the tub, dried herself under his hot gaze and slipped on a long camisa.

“We must have a special place where we can bathe,” she said. “It is too difficult for the servants to have to be constantly moving this great tub. Do you like it, my lord? I had it made.”

“Aye, I like it,” he said. “It is pleasant to wash with warm water and not cold. There are some things from your old civilization that I enjoy. We will have a bathhouse built next to the hall, where the tub may remain, and there will be a fire to heat the water.” He took her hand in his. “Come, lambkin. I would see the solar now.”

The hall seemed strangely deserted as they made their way to the ladder leading up into their chamber. Wulf climbed behind Cailin, and having gained the room, he leaned over and drew the ladder up behind him. Then he shut the trapdoor, shoving the iron bolts hard into their casing and laying the ladder across the door. Turning about, he inspected the room. The last of the sunset was coming through the two narrow windows. He could see the stars beginning to speckle the sky.

“Are you hungry?” she said. There was food laid out for them on the table. “You have worked hard.”

“Later,” he told her. “It will keep,” and then he pulled his tunic off, nodding at her to do the same.

Cailin removed the shapeless gown she had put on after her bath. “Your hunger is of another kind,” she observed softly.

“I have waited long,” he said quietly, “but seeing you like this now, lambkin, I find I cannot wait another moment longer. I fear I am past the niceties.”

She could see he was almost trembling, and his male organ was engorged and eager. Reaching out, she caressed him with gentle fingers, and he shuddered. “I will show you a pleasure I learned in Byzantium,” she told him. “In a way, it is similar to something we did when I was carrying Aurora.” She was surprised to find that she was as eager for him as he for her, despite their lack of foreplay. Taking her husband’s hand, she led him to their bed space, but instead of entering it, Cailin knelt upon the bedding and instructed him, “Find my woman’s passage, my love. Enter me this way, and see the delights you gain.”

She felt him seeking carefully, and then she felt the tip of his weapon touching her wet and pulsing sheath. His big hands grasped her hips firmly, and he rammed himself home, groaning with undisguised pleasure as he realized he was deeper within her than he had ever been. For a moment he simply enjoyed the sensation of warmth and tightness. Then, unable to help himself, he felt his buttocks begin to contract and release, contract and release, as he propelled himself with ever growing urgency and impetus within her feminine channel, actually feeling her expand to accommodate his yet swelling, throbbing member. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, holding her firmly that he might have more of her.

Kneeling upon the bedding, Cailin arched her back, thrusting her hips up at him that he might delve even deeper. She had gasped at his entry, having forgotten how big he was, but then the rhythmic thrust of his weapon began to communicate its passion to her. She whimpered as he filled her passage,
the torrid heat of him astounding her. She cried out at the fires he was arousing. The culmination of their combined passions exploded almost as rapidly as it had begun. He collapsed atop her, nearly sobbing with relief.

Cailin was almost smothered in the feather bed by the weight of him, but she somehow managed to squirm from beneath him. Rolling onto her back, she lay quietly, allowing her own heart to cease its frantic pumping. Finally she said softly, “I had almost forgotten how wonderful a lover you can be, Wulf Ironfist. You have restored my memory admirably.”

He raised his head up, his blue eyes solemn but his words were humorous. “You will surely not forget again, lambkin.”

Reaching over, she gently yanked a lock of his long corn-colored hair. “I will not forget again,” she promised him with utmost seriousness, “but in return, you must promise not to let me be stolen away ever again.” She righted herself in the bed space and encouraged him to do so as well, taking him into her arms so that his golden head rested upon her bosom.

He nuzzled the soft flesh gently. “I will never let you go, Cailin, my wife,” he assured her.
“Never! Ever!”

They made love again, this time in a more gentle and leisurely manner. She took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately as they reached the peak of their mutual desire. Then they fell asleep, exhausted.

When they awoke in the middle of the starry night, it was to discover that they were both hungry, but this time their hunger was for food. Cailin had brought a roasted capon, bread, cheese, crisp apples, and a heady wine to the solar. Together they shared the feast, returning to their bed space to kiss, and to caress, and to love some more.

The happiness that they had gained in finding each other again quickly communicated itself to all the inhabitants of the hall. Aurora, who had been so withdrawn and frightened, was now a laughing, happy child adored by both of her parents. Her unpleasant memories were fading, thanks to her relatively young age, and her third birthday was celebrated with much festivity, and not just a little excitement. Aurora had
not been expected until at least the end of August, but she had chosen to be born on the nineteenth of that month.

The day of her third birthday dawned clear and warm. The grain harvest was all in and stored in the barns within the walls. The workers were preparing to harvest apples to make cider.

The watch upon the walls suddenly called out, “Horsemen upon the hillcrest!” and immediately the gates of Cadda-wic were shut and barred. The horsemen descended the hill slowly as Wulf Ironfist was called from the solar and hurried to a vantage point atop the walls.

Ragnar Strongspear’s dark blue eyes narrowed with irritation as he saw the newly built defenses about the hall. Too late, he realized his error in withdrawing his spy. As he drew closer he observed that the wall enclosing Cadda-wic was a very strong one. And the fields about the hall had all been harvested, but where were the grain barns? Within those damned walls, he suspected, and safe from him. Ragnar was not a man of great intellect, but he knew that retaking these lands was not going to be as easy a task as he had earlier anticipated. Looking up, he saw Wulf Ironfist upon the walls, watching his approach.

Ragnar smiled toothily and said in his booming voice, “Good morrow, Wulf Ironfist! Surely you have not closed your gates to me? We are neighbors, and should be friends.”

“Friends do not come calling at dawn with a party of heavily armed men,” came the reply. “State your business with me, Ragnar Strongspear.”

“ ‘Tis just a friendly visit,” the older man declared. “Will you not open your gates and let me in, my friend?”

“We are not friends,” Wulf Ironfist replied coldly. “If you wish to enter Cadda-wic, then you may, but you must leave your troop outside my walls. We are a peaceful community and seek no warring.”

“Very well,” Ragnar said, deciding that he must get a look inside the walls of Cadda-wic if he was to eventually take it. He dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to his second-in-command.

“My lord,” the man, whose name was Harald, said, “it is not safe.”

“It is safe,” his master assured him softly. “If our positions were reversed, ’twould not be so, but Wulf Ironfist is a man of his word.”

The gate was opened just enough for Ragnar to squeeze through, and then the strong iron bars were lowered, securing the entry from intruders. He noted that the gates were sheathed in iron. Cadda-wic was well thought out. The well was in the courtyard’s center, and there were several grain barns, well away from the walls.