As the January sun began to sink away they came to a charming?small inn set upon the river bank. It was separated from the road?by a low stone wall that opened into a brick courtyard. Upon either?side of the entry hung an oval sign depicting a drake surrounded by?several ducks. The building was whitewashed and half-timbered,?with a thatched roof and lead-paned bow windows that had win-?dow boxes filled with holly and ivy. From the great brick center?chimney rose a curl of gray-blue smoke. As they clattered up to the?inn door an ostler ran out from the stable to take their horses.?Geoffrey’s hands lingered on Skye’s waist as he lifted her from her?horse, and she felt her skin tingling against her silk undergarments.?Taking her hand firmly in his, he led her into the inn.
“My lord Southwood!” A tall, moon-faced man came forward.?”Welcome, my lord, my lady. We received your message this morn-?ing, my lord, and your room is ready. There will be no other guests?for the duration of your stay.”
“My thanks, Master Parker. I think we will have dinner as soon?as it can be made ready. It’s been a cold ride.”
“Very good, my lord! Rose! Where is that lass? Rose!”
“Here, Dad!”
“Escort my lord Southwood and his lady to their room, girl.”
Rose, a very buxom young lady whose ample bosom threatened?to overflow its blouse, bobbed a curtsey, and smiled saucily at the?Earl. “This way, m’lord, madam,” she said, leading them not up-?stairs but down a short sunlit hallway and into a small wing off the?main inn building. The door swung open to reveal a charming white?room with a bowed window, large fireplace, and big carved oak bed?with heavy green and white linen hangings. Dark beams timbered?the walls and ceiling. On one side of the fireplace was a round?polished table holding a brown glazed earthenware bowl filled with?pine boughs. There were two matching chairs. At the foot of the?bed was a blanket chest. There was a seat built into the window,?with plump cushions of the same homespun green and white linen?as the bed hangings.
Rose touched a brand to the perfectly laid fire and it blazed up?instantly. “Your trunks are on either side of the bed, m’lord,” she?said. “Can I bring you anything?”
Geoffrey looked to Skye. “Sweetheart?”
The little maid almost sighed her envy of the beautiful lady. “A?bath,” pleaded Skye. “I can smell nothing but horses.”
He smiled down on her, then turned to Rose. “Will you see to?it, love?” His big hand cupped the girl’s face, and he looked down?into her bovine brown eyes.
Rose nearly fainted. “A-aye, m’lord. A b-bath. At once!”
He dropped his hand and she spun about and fled. He laughed?softly, and Skye chided him, “Oh, Geoffrey, what a wicked man?you are.”
He grinned at her. “I suppose I am,” he admitted. Then “I’ll bathe?with you. I stink of horses too.” Reaching out, he pulled her into?his arms, pushed her hood off, and loosened her hair so that it?tumbled down her back in a shining black mass. One strong arm?pressed her tightly against him. The other hand caressed her silken?hair. She could feel herself growing weak with his touch, and fought?to control her emotions. His green eyes mocked her efforts, and for?a moment she became angry and struggled to escape him. He released?her instantly.
“I’ll never force you, Skye,” he said aloud. The thought lay?between them: because I don’t have to.
There was a scratching at the door and then a sturdy boy lugged?in a small round oak tub. Several other boys carried in buckets of?water. Rose ordered the tub placed before the fire, and set a carved?screen about it. When the tub was filled and the male servants gone,?she asked, “Shall I stay and help you, madam?”
“Thank you, Rose. I should appreciate it.” Her blue eyes twinkled?wickedly. “Sorry, Geoffrey, but the tub is much too small for us?both, as you can see. You will have to bathe after me.” It was a?small but delicious revenge, and she was hard pressed not to laugh.?She slipped behind the modesty of the screen and slowly removed?each garment.
Sitting on the bed, he watched through narrowed eyes as first her?velvet riding habit and then her perfumed, silken undergarments?were handed over the screen to the solicitous Rose. Soon he heard?the water splashing gently as she lowered herself into the tub.
“Will you need help, madam?”
“No, Rose. I can wash myself.”
“I’ll take your riding habit and cloak to be brushed, ma’am, and?your underclothing to be washed. Then I’ll come back.”
“Don’t bother, I will care for my lady,” said the Earl as he?escorted the servant girl to the door and firmly thrust her out. To?sweeten the rebuff he slipped a gold piece down her front and,?patting her backside, sent her on her way. The door was shut, the?bolt slammed home. “And now, madam!” He strode across the room and yanked the carved screen aside. She sat covered by suds, her?dark hair loosely pinned on top of her head. She looked up at him?mockingly.
“My lord?”
He stripped off his clothes, letting them lie where they fell, and?strode purposefully toward the tub.
“No!” she shrieked, “you’ll flood the room!”
He grinned wickedly. “Then get out and let me bathe.”
“I am not through!”
“But I am ready!”
“Oh, damn you, Southwood! Hand me a towel.”
He held it just out of her reach so that she was forced to stand?in order to get it. The suds sluiced down her lush form, and Geoffrey?Southwood drew in his breath sharply. The beast in him stirred.?Clinging to an end of the towel as she grabbed it he pulled her over?and kissed her. Her small full breasts, wet and warm, pushed de-? mandingly at his chest.
“Skye, oh sweet Skye!” His voice was rough with longing. Then?suddenly he felt the ground give way beneath him and he landed?rudely in the warm, scented tub. She was laughing uproariously, the?red mouth wide and luscious.
“There, Master Lecher! Cool your heels, and wash the stink of?the road from your handsome body! Geoffrey! Geoffrey! How ac-?customed you must be to getting your way with women! Shame, my?lord! Fie! We barely arrive and you ogle the maidservant. Then you?kiss me, ogle the wench again, and pat her backside! Yes! I saw it!?Then attempt to climb into
For the briefest instant he was angry. Angry with this nameless?female, the Whoremaster of Algiers’ woman. How dare she impose?conditions on him? But as he gazed at her he felt the anger dissolve.?She was right. She wasn’t some common trull to love or ignore as?the spirit moved him.
“I’ll teach you manners yet, Southwood.” she said mischievously.
“Scrub my back,” he shot back and, laughing, she complied.
She had decided in the early hours of the dawn that if she was?to become his mistress it must be on her terms. She would not be?one of many. She must be his only love. She would give to him?affection and respect, but in return he must give her the same. And?as she would be loyal and faithful to him, so must he be to her. She?had, just now, won their first battle.
They ate in their room by the fireplace. It was a simple but very tasty meal of boiled lobsters, artichokes in oil and vinegar, newly?baked bread with sweet butter, whole apples baked in pastry with?colored sugar sprinkled over them accompanied by clotted cream,?sharp cheese, and a pitcher of white wine.
Afterward they lay back against the plump goose-down pillows?on the lavender-scented bed and, holding hands, fell asleep. Skye?woke to watch the firelight dancing against the wall. Instinctively?she knew he was awake too. Turning, she lay her head against his?heart.
“What a wench you are,” he said softly, and stroked her hair.?”I’ve fallen in love with you, Skye. You know that, don’t you? I’ve?never loved before, sweetheart, but as God as my witness I do love?you.”
They made love tenderly, lingeringly, then slept, awakened, and?made love twice more. As Geoffrey had promised her, the next three?days were spent in an orgy of love making, eating, and drinking.?And even if they had wished to change the program they would not?have been able to do so, for they awoke that first morning to find?a January snowstorm swirling about them.
