preferred to make love in the dark, or wearing her chemise, and it would not have occurred to him to make a whore remove her clothes during his brief encounters with such women.
Catrin, however, was different. He had known it from the moment that she swung pillion behind him as he took her away from Penfoss. The mannerisms of nun and hoyden were inextricably combined and utterly bewitching.
She returned to the bed, squeezing in beside him on its narrowness, and now there was no barrier. His shaft pressed against the rough triangle of hair, sliding, searching blindly. He cupped her breasts and buried his face against her soap-scented throat. She arched her thigh over his flank, allowing him the merest fraction of entry, and he groaned. Her fingers stroked, gliding over his skin with the tips of her nails, and she altered her position so that he entered a little further. He felt her muscles tighten around him, squeezing gently, and strove with every shred of will not to burst there and then.
As if sensing his dilemma, she ceased to move. Oliver stared at a bunch of herbs suspended from the rafters and contemplated the texture and pattern of the dried leaves. He recited a troubadour song inside his head to try and distract himself. Blow, northerne wind, Send thou me my swetyng, Blow, northerne wind, Blow, blow, blow. The sensation of imminent crisis diminished. He ran his fingertips very lightly over her skin, teased her nipples, sucked the pulse at her throat. He ventured lower, finding the furrow in her pubic hair with his index finger and the tiny, sensitive knurl of flesh that Gawin had told him was a woman's source of pleasure. His touch was light and tentative, for he had half wondered if Gawin was telling him tales, but Catrin shuddered and moaned and he felt the sudden leap of her blood against his lips. He stroked her again and felt her clamp around him. Blow, northerne wind, Send thou me my swetyng… He closed and tightened his eyes; continued to rub.
Making mewing sounds in her throat, Catrin shifted her position again so that she was fully over him and, pushing down, she sheathed him completely. Oliver abandoned all attempts to divert his mind. It was futile. Nothing existed but the pleasure and pressure in his loins. Catrin was gasping above him. He seized her hips and thrust into her. Her flesh flexed, then grasped him smoothly.
'Jesu, Oliver groaned. Unable to hold back any longer, he lunged powerfully, once, twice, and was overcome by his climax. Catrin sobbed and ground down, and he felt her fierce contractions pulsate around him.
Panting, Catrin collapsed against him, her hair brushing his face, her body moulding to his. He could feel the resilient, tender flesh of her breasts, the satin curve of her thigh, the gentler ripples of after-shock swallowing along his shaft.
'Ah, God, she said, her breath still heaving. 'I had forgotten.
'Forgotten what?
She raised her head. Her hazel eyes were glazed and heavy-lidded. A pink flush stained her face, throat and breasts. He could see a reddish mark flowering where he had sucked her throat. 'What a pleasure it could be. She tilted her head on one side, a smile curving her lips. 'You were right. I do not think a kissing bunch in the hall would have encompassed this. She ran her finger down his wiry chest hair, following a trail down his belly towards his pubic bush, at that moment meshed with hers.
'It's not only a red beard that you sport, is it? she teased.
'It's a sign of vigour, he answered, in the same vein.
She laughed, and squeezed him gently with her internal muscles before rising off him. 'I'm glad to hear it, but even a vigorous man needs sustaining. Leaving the bed, she went to a jug set near the hearth and poured golden liquid into a cup. 'Mead, she said, 'from the clover hives in the river meadow. Ethel insists it puts a spring in her step. She looked at his crotch with a suggestive arch of her brows.
Oliver snorted with amusement. 'If Ethel swears by it, then it must be good.
'It is. Catrin sat down beside him. She was totally at ease with her nudity, and this too was new for Oliver. Emma had been shy of her body, always crossing her hands in front of her breasts and refusing to look at him. Catrin was completely spontaneous, her hazel stare candid with humour and lust.
He took a sip of the sweet, golden brew, passed the cup to her and stroked her silky hair where it had loosened from its braid. The faint perfume of lavender drifted to his nostrils and mingled with the scents of love- play and mead. 'It is long and long since I was so content, he murmured. 'Years in fact.
Catrin drank. A drip spilled down her chin and she scooped it up on her forefinger and licked it off. 'It is the same for me too, she said, 'perhaps more so, because I had begun to think that I was going to spend the Christmas feast alone.
He grimaced. 'I would have been here yester-eve, but I became saddled with providing part of the Empress's escort from Gloucester. We had to wait until my lady was ready to leave, and she took her own sweet time about it. Then we had to ride through the streets of Gloucester in full array for the benefit of the people, with Mathilda waving a haughty hand and casting handfuls of silver as if she despised the act. He shook his head and drew the cup, still in her hand, to his lips.
'And yet you have sworn your oath to her.
'Because Stephen has rewarded one of his mercenaries with my lands; because Earl Robert commands more respect in my eyes than ever Stephen could — than ever Mathilda could come to that. But she has sons to continue her line, and they could never, even in a nightmare, be any worse than Stephen's son, Eustace. If he mounts the throne, then I will return to the Holy Land and offer my sword to the King of Jerusalem. He took another long swallow of the mead, as if swilling a bad taste from his mouth. 'Ach, I don't want to talk of rulers and their petty ways, not when there are more interesting things to discuss.
'Such as? She finished her drink and set the cup to one side, her eyes luminous as she knelt above him.
'Such as what do you think of Godard? Oliver banded his arms around her and rolled her over. There was a welcome surge of heat at his groin.
'First I was angry, then I was pleased, she answered and spread her legs invitingly. 'He is very useful to have around, and Ethel dotes on him. So do half the laundry maids. She dug her nails into his back. 'You took a risk sending him. I find his company quite pleasing myself.
'But not as pleasing as this?
Her thighs clasped him. 'Ask me again in a while, she murmured, then arched and gasped as he thrust into her.
Leaning heavily on her stick, Ethel limped across the bailey. The sleet had turned to wet snow and was settling although, behind the clouds, a haze of moon still glimmered fitfully. On reaching her dwelling, she paused outside, her head cocked on one side like a listening bird. Very carefully, she unfastened one of the hooks holding the door screen and peered inside.
By the faint red glow from the embers of the fire, she saw Oliver and Catrin entwined upon her bed, both of them sound asleep. Oliver's arm was draped protectively across Catrin's shoulder, and her head was snuggled beneath his chin.
Quietly, Ethel secured the screen and turned back towards the hall. It was warm in there, and she had no complaint about dozing by the fire with hot, spiced wine for company.
As she paused against the forebuilding to gain her breath, she saw a couple arguing in the lee of the wall. In a moment, she recognised them both. The man was young Gawin, still wearing his hauberk from escort duty, and the woman was the Countess's sempstress Rohese. She stood shivering in a dress of thin, wheat-coloured silk, no cloak to protect her from the bite of the wind.
'You've had your pleasure! she cried in a voice high with panic and petulance. 'You can't walk away from your duty to me now!
Ethel saw a look of impatience cross Gawin's face. She could tell that he was the worse for drink — as were more than half the young men in the hall tonight. Swaying forward, he braced his arm against the wall. 'Oh, but I can, sweetheart. It wasn't just my pleasure, don't deny it. Besides, how do I know it's my duty? More than one dog will mount a bitch in heat.
Her hand shot out towards his face, but he caught her wrist with a soldier's reflexes and twisted it round, forcing her to her knees in the settling snow. Then he pushed her away. 'Find someone less choosy, he sneered, and lurched back into the hall.
Ethel watched the encounter with tightening lips. Gawin was a decent, if shallow, young man when the drink was not upon him, but there was no excuse for what she had just witnessed. Knowing his personality, she could
