The Innocent

lady of the manor walked back to the meadow.

The fires sprang up around them as they seated themselves at their trestle again. The long day was finally waning. The last of the feast was consumed along with ale and mead. The sunset blazed pink, purple, orange, green, and gold beyond the western hills. The musicians began to play again, even as Cedric nodded a signal to his lord and lady. Elf and Ranulf stood up. With Ranulf leading, Elf took his hand and that of Willa, who took the hand of Ranulf’s squire, Pax, who took another hand which took another, and another. Together they all danced in a line, weaving about and among the several fires in an ancient dance called 'Threading the Needle.' The sun sank away. The sky above them grew dark. The music grew wilder, more primitive until suddenly without warning it stopped. About them was silence. There was not a single sound. Then the fires were quickly doused, and Ashlin’s people moved off silently into the night. Some returned to their homes. Young lovers simply slipped off into the darkness. The lord took his lady’s hand, and led her indoors. Midsummer’s Eve was over, and tomorrow was a working day.

'Willa has gone off,' Ida muttered disapprovingly. 'I will see to your needs, my lady.'

'Nay, find your bed, old woman,' Ranulf said quietly. 'I can help my wife undress as well as you can.'

'And have more fun doing it, too, lord' came the ribald answer. 'Heh! Heh!'

He chuckled, then still hand in hand they entered the solar, leaving the rest of the world behind them.

Elf turned and slipped her arms about her husband’s neck, looking up into his face. 'Soon you will be gone from me to Normandy,' she said softly. 'I know not how long you will be gone. I am bold, I know, Ranulf, but I would have you make love to me. It has been so long since our bodies were last joined in passion.' Her sweet glance was warm, and her silvery gray eyes shone with her open desire for him.

'I would not hurt you,' he replied.

Elf laughed softly. 'I vow, my lord, you are the kindest man I have ever known, which, of course, is not saying a great deal as I have known no other but you. If I did not know better, I would be certain that you had a lover among the serfs. But I do know better,' she hastily amended seeing his startled look. 'Ranulf, my lord, my good husband, I have from the beginning enjoyed the pleasures our bodies give us. We have not had that pleasure in months now, and you are about to go off in a few days to Normandy for an indeterminate length of time. Do you not think we might indulge ourselves until then? I have healed quickly, thanks to my herbs and teas.' She smiled winningly up at him, and her hand caressed his cheek. 'Do you not want to make love to me? Perhaps it is not as difficult for a man as it is for a woman. I must by my own honor and nature remain chaste while you are gone; but perhaps that is not the case with you. Perhaps when you reach Duke Henry’s court, you will indulge your lusts with some beautiful and elegant woman of the court!' Her eyes suddenly flashed, and Elf stamped her foot angrily. 'By the rood, I will not have it!' She began to pound upon his chest with her small, balled-up fists.

He laughed aloud. He couldn't help it. She had gone from being alluring and seductive in one moment to being furiously jealous the next. Was it possible that she cared for him? Ranulf’s heart beat faster as he caught her wrists in a gentle, but firm grip.

'Petite,' he said, 'I will never betray you no matter my own hungers, for there is but one woman I desire in all the world, and that woman is you, Eleanore.' Pulling her against his broad chest, he nuzzled her soft hair. 'You, petite, are my wife. I need no other.' His lips brushed hers.

Somewhat mollified, she kissed him back, her fingers all the while fumbling to loosen the girdle about his tunic.

His laughter was now lower and more intimate. 'You are quite shameless, petite,' he teased her. 'I can see you will have your way with me, Eleanore.' He helped her to draw the tunic over his head. Then, reaching out, he loosed her girdle, his fingers pulling her tunic off. Her skirt fell quickly to the floor, puddling about her ankles.

Elf unlaced his chemise, opening it so it might slide over his shoulders, then his torso, his hips, and finally to the floor. Reaching out, he returned the favor, then drew her to him, her full, naked breasts pressing against his bare chest, her sweetly rounded belly against his belly, her love mound pushing against his burning lance, still held captive within his remaining clothing.

'Ohhh!' Elf gasped as he knelt before her and rolled down her stockings, then removed them from her feet. He kissed each knee as he did so. Then he stood again, drawing his braies off.

Elf went to mimic him, kneeling to roll down his hose. She gasped, startled, upon coming face-to-face as it were, with his burgeoning manhood. She had never before seen it quite that close up. Captivated, she stared at it, fascinated to view the source of her pleasure. Other than its size, it had little to recommend it, she decided, yet, oh, what delights she gained when it fitted itself within her sheath. Hesitantly she broke her gaze and drew his hose off. When she again stood up, he looked questioningly at her. 'It is not particularly pretty, my lord, but I enjoy the dance it performs with me,' she said.

He pulled her against him again, reveling in the warmth of their bodies. 'There is so much I want to teach you, petite, now that we are so well acquainted.' His mouth brushed against her brow.

'Could I kiss it?'

'Aye,' he said shortly.

'What else?'

'You could nurse upon it as I do your breasts,' he replied. Dear God, he was going to burst, she excited him so greatly with her talk. The thought of her mouth against him was almost too much.

'If I swallowed your seed, could I become with child?' she inquired, curious.

'Nay,' he told her, 'but I should not let my seed loose within your mouth. I would save it for your sweet sheath. I do not wish to waste it, petite.'

'Would it give you pleasure?'

'Aye!' He squeezed the word out of his throat.

Without a moment’s hesitation Elf fell to her knees before him, and taking him in her mouth began to nurse upon him vigorously.

Ranulf thought his head would burst. 'Gently, petite,' he groaned. By the rood she was such a different woman from the innocent he had married less than two years ago. 'Enough!' he said sharply.

Elf stood, her cheeks pink, and he kissed her passionately, his manhood pushing against her. Unable to help himself he lifted her up, cupping her buttocks in his big hands as she instinctively wrapped her legs about him, and he slowly pushed himself deep within her eager body. Her arms enclosed him, and she sighed deeply, a sound of complete and utter contentment. Does she care? he asked himself again. Or is it simply that she enjoys the privileges of marriage? He walked through the solar into their small bedchamber, never allowing their bodies to unlock, and laid her back upon the bed. Gently he pistoned her, anxious for any sign of distress on her part, but Elf was plainly enjoying her husband’s tender ardor.

'Ahhhh!' she cried softly. How he filled her! How she had missed his passion! Would he ever love her, or must she be content forever with only these wonderful moments between them? Her nails dug into the muscles of his back as her crisis approached, and when hot pleasure rained down upon her, she heard him cry out, too, as his juices flooded her.

He collapsed atop her, and after a moment she pushed at him. His eyes met hers, and the warm smile she gave him almost broke his heart in its sweetness. He loved her, and he wanted her to love him! How did a man go about making a woman love him. The emotion was surely a different feeling than passion, for