(A/N-Thanks to Bekki for betaing this story. Appreciate is a lot! I hope you all enjoy the beginning of this tale. There will be smut, humor, smut, angst, did I mention smut? This is a time piece set back in time, during the times or Lords, Ladies, Knights.)
*No disclaimer needed as I helped create Outlaw Queen, not Adam or Eddie per the COWARDLY ADAM!*
"Regina! Come downstairs immediately!" her aunt, Phoebe called to her.
Regina hurried downstairs to speak with her only living relative left. She had lost both her parents to a sickness that had swept through their household, Regina herself had only managed to live on. Only to awaken to the news that both her parents had not only died, but were already buried as well.
"Regina, you know your father was close to King William and at your father's dying request, you are now under the wardship of the King. He had directed me to talk to you of your future," Phoebe said.
"My future?" Regina asked.
"Are you aware, that after the King was crowned in England he gave a barony to your father in recompense for his long and faithful service to him?" Phoebe asked.
Regina nodded. That barony had been the anchor of her dreams, "Ravensely," she said.
"It is apparently a fine and prosperous parcel of properties centered close to one of the old Roman roads that run through England. The property is to be yours, Regina," Phoebe explained.
"Mine?" Regina asked, this was the answer to her prayers. She could finally have a good life, and take care of those who needed help as well, like her friend Tink and her family who were barely surviving right now.
"Technically, it will be your husband's, it goes to him on his wedding to you," Phoebe said. "The King has narrowed your potential husbands down to two men."
"Do...do I have to do this?" Regina asked.
"It was decided on the day you were born," Phoebe said.
"My lady, but I must have some say in who I am to wed," Regina said.
"The King will decide which of the two men you must marry," Phoebe said.
"Who are these two men?" Regina asked.
"The two are, Lord Blanchard and Lord Locksley," Phoebe explained.
Regina's stomach went sickly at the thought of Lord Leopold Blanchard as her husband. The man was a fiend! She had only been in his presence twice and both times he made her feel sick. When he had taken her hand and kissed it, she felt sick little shudders going through her.
Lord Locksley, she had heard of but had never seen. It was odd indeed that these two men were chosen. Lord Locksley's own sister had been married to Lord Blanchard, until she had died giving birth to her daughter. The baby had also later died, and Lord Blanchard had married a young girl named Eva who had managed to give him a daughter, whom he had sent off to live with her aunts.
Now, she would be forced to marry one of them. She looked at her aunt, "But, I just wanted my own life, a life in the country where I could stay for the rest of my life."
"I'm sorry, Regina but your future is set," Phoebe explained as Regina turned and ran out of the house. She headed towards the forest on the outskirts of the property. She hated how it seemed everyone else was always in control of her life. Never her!
She had to get out of that house! Away from those who wanted to control her. She decided to go to the spot where she collected herbs and such for medicines that she used to help treat some of the villagers when they fell sickly.
As she walked she glimpsed water through the trees. She went forward eagerly as she heard a large splash. Just a fish? Or some large animal? She moved forward more cautiously and peeped out from behind a stand of willow.
A man was swimming.
The smooth line of his back was clear, long, golden and slick with water. When he turned to swim towards the bank, she could see his face, but could make little of it. Young, though. But she'd guessed that from his body.
Still in deep water, he stopped swimming, stood and began to wade toward the bank. Regina gave a little sigh as his body was revealed bit by bit to her eyes.
His shoulders were broad and sinuously strong, sloping down into a hardened chest, had flaring rib ridges of muscles formed a perfect central cleft which was emphasized by the faint line of water darkened hair disappearing into the river.
Naked and a part of nature, he was like a perfectly formed wild animal.
He stopped with the water girdling his hips and raised his arms to run his hand through his hair. His shoulders stretched, and his upper body seemed to form a heart shape for her delight. She suppressed a breathy, "Oh!" He shook his head like a dog, sending spray to make diamonds in the sun.
He began to wade out of the water again, revealing more of his body, inch by inch...
Regina watched, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.
He turned suddenly, as if alerted by a sound.
Regina turned away, horrified by her rampant curiosity and the disappointment she felt. She knew how a man was made. She'd taken care of many a sick man in the village.
This man was nothing like those men she had cared for. He was nothing like any man she had ever seen. She peeped back.
He stood like a statue, watching the far bank of the river. Regina followed his gaze and saw three russet hind prick their way delicately down to the water. They were alert for danger, but he stood so still they were unalarmed and dipped their heads to drink.
Regina looked back to the man.
If anything, his back was more breathtaking than his front. The smooth line from broad shoulders to hard buttocks was surely God's perfect work. The long valley of his spine could have been drawn by God's loving finger. She imagined running a finger from nape to cleft.
Regina shut her eyes and said a silent prayer..."deliver us from temptation..." but it was no good. She opened her eyes a slit.
He had not moved. He stood as still as a statue and just as god had made him. There was no sign of his rank, though she suspected he was English from his facial features and hair. Though it was darkened by water, his hair was blonde. He wasn't a peasant. He was too tall, too evenly and beautifully developed to be. It needed good food from birth and long years of training in a range of skills to develop a body like that-fluid, capable of wielding sword or an ax throughout a long battle, able to control a war-horse, climb walls, draw a bow.
Water from his hair formed rivulet in the cleft of his spine. It ran all down to his taut buttocks. Regina found herself catching those drops of water on her tongue, running her tongue up that sensuous valley to the nape of his back.
She clapped her hand over her mouth and shut her eyes. What a thing to think!
She heard something and opened her eyes. He was gone, leaving only ripples, an so were the deer. Had such a little noise alarmed them?
The spell was broken. Regina hurriedly retreated and leaned against a tree, weak, breathless and ashamed of herself How extraordinary and dream like that all had been, and how forbidden her thoughts has been. She would have to confess them.
She wouldn't dare!
Who could he have been? There were no noble englishmen left in the area. She could almost believe him of the fairy world, a river prince, a forest king. Hadn't she seen dark marks on his body which were surely magical?
She didn't dare investigate the river plants today. She might be enchanted and dragged down into the water to live a captive to a fairy prince.
It wasn't fear she felt.
To be such a man's captive.
She tiptoes from the river back towards her home. Safe from the fairies and her own wanton weakness.
She was seized. A hand clapped over her mouth. She was entangled in a cloak. In a second, Regina found herself pinned by strong arms with her back against her captor, silenced by a large, calloused hand.
Her fantasy had become terrifying reality, and this was no fairy prince. She struggled and tried to scream. He was a saxon! He would slit her throat.
He said something, she could not understand, but the gentle tone calmed her, and she stopped her futile struggle, though her heart still raced and tremors shook her.
He continued to speak in the soft, English. Looking as she did, he doubtless thought her one of the castle maids. She must keep up the pretense. He was surely an English outlaw, and if he realized she was Norman he would kill her.
It was hard to believe he was the enemy, however, for his soothing voice smoothed away her fears. The voice, the cloak, the heat of his body behind her, his arm around her, all made her spellbound, as he were casting a spell on her.
Perhaps he was.
Was he still naked? She imagined him naked behind her, his wonderful body separated from hers by only two layers of cloth. Trembles started which had nothing to do with fear.
Held as she was, she could see nothing of him, just the path ahead, ground kept her barren by the regular wearing of feet, the arch of trees in leaf, yellow and white flowers blooming among the undergrowth. She heard the singing of birds, the humming of insects, and murmur of his entrancing voice.
He said something else, and cautiously slid his hand from her lips. She licked her lips and tasted him upon them. His hand slid down her neck, then up again to gently press her head back against his chest. Still she could see nothing of him, but beneath her hair she felt cloth. It disappointed her that he was dressed. At that thought heat rose in her cheeks.
He laughed softly and murmured again as his hand stroked down her stretched neck like a trail of fire. Then it traveled further, to rest hot over her right breast. Regina gave a breathy moan. Even though her kirtle and the cloak she could feel the heat from the hand as if it lay against her bare skin. Her nipple swelled into a point of unbearable sensitivity, and his hand moved in slow butterfly circles as if he knew. She imagined that deep murmuring voice was speaking of love and sinful delights.
She ached with a need to respond, to reach up and hold his hand against her, to turn and kiss him, but she was caught in the cloak. She wanted to speak but dared not, for then he would know she was a Norman.
His right hand moved again, leaving her breast bereft. Now, following the path of her desire, it slid down to the juncture of her thighs, cupped and pressed her there. She made a wordless protest and moved back, but there was nowhere to go, and her sinful body did not really want to escape...not really. Instead she pressed against his hand, wanting want she knew his hand could give her.
She stifled a betraying plea even as her body moved against his hand.
He laughed and blew softly over her heated cheek.
Then he picked up his spells again as his hand slid up her body, over her left breast to her neck. His fingers trailed to her nape, and he lifted her heavy hair. The murmur of his voice stopped. The brush of his lips at her hairline trickled a shiver of delight down her spine as the river water had run down his.
His tongue against her skin was moist, hot, then cool as the breeze found the trail he left. He was doing as she had imagined and running his tongue down the top of her spine, but the moisture he would find there was not cold river water but hot perspiration.
Hot. So Hot!
A shudder passed through her, as if she was taken by a fever. The rumble of his laughter vibrated into her. She laughed too, enchanted into madness. She was going to speak, to turn, to seek the kiss she hungered for.
Then,"Farewell," he said.
He flipped the back of the cloak over her head. By the time she had disentangled herself, he was gone.
Regina collapsed on the ground. He was surely of the fairy world to be able to enhance her so. For all she knew that had been fairy language.
The garment in her hands told her he was human. Not a poor man's garment. Unlikely in an outlaw unless stolen, certainly not fairy.
She would like to keep it,but knew she would be questioned about it. So instead she left it there.
How sad that such a man was not for her.
As far as she knew, he was a prince of fairies. Such men didn't exist in the real world, the world from which she would have to choose her husband.
But still, she could not resist a prayer, that when she finally found herself in the marriage bed, her husband would touch her as the fairy prince had touched her, and take her to the end of the magical path he had opened from his hand.
As she walked back, she realized something about the fantasy man.
He had a mark on his right arm.
A mark of the lion.