Manna from Heaven
Chapter 13
…it does not…
Some women looked beautiful regardless of what they wore. Genevieve was one of those women.
The cream tunic was diaphanous, floating around her body as if weightless, with long, gossamer bell sleeves. The kirtle was green, short sleeved, to allow the tunic freedom. It did not meet in the middle, green ribbons criss-crossing in the front, allowing the almost white bodice to peek through. The kirtle was hooded, but lay back and was trimmed in a gold thread.
Isabella would have hated the simplicity of the ensemble, because she would not glow in it as Genevieve did.
Guy's mouth lifted in a half-smirk. He openly and sensuously perused her form. "Nice. Hungry?" He quirked an eyebrow and pulled out her chair.
Genevieve was feeling little pain. She had spent the day accomplishing nothing. The wine carafe in her room stayed full and she had read two books that she normally would not have read under normal conditions. Needless to say, she had a hankering for broody knights, who had been done dirty, with revenge on their minds at this time and deep down she knew she could most likely blame her shifty office manager who somehow was managing to walk time with her. "I feel like I'm dining with the Big Bad Wolf," she remarked coyly. She sat in her chair and allowed Guy to maneuver her to the table. "Thank you."
Guy leaned over, resting his hand on her shoulder, uncaring if anyone overheard or not. "You are. I am big, I am very bad and the wolf is my crest."
Although no longer in the throes of backache mayhem and the effects of the wine earlier was now wearing off, Genevieve was feeling rather saucy. "You are tall and I would think you are more naughty than bad." She rested her hand over his, covering his signet ring. "And considering the wolf on your ring and the emblem found about your home, I suspected that you are."
For a moment, he… they lingered in that position, before Guy pushed himself from her chair and slid into his. Somewhere in the kitchen, Eleanor squealed in glee, Thornton obviously having told her that her services would be kept on. For the first time since she was hired, she looked Guy in the eye when she served him and smiled.
For some odd reason, it terrified the knight. Wasn't the little servant girl supposed to be frightened of him, as she should?
When women smile, they want something.
"No, they don't." Genevieve was leaning over towards him. "Sometimes, we smile to show our appreciation, our gratefulness."
Guy pretended to eyeball his roast chicken. "I do not recall saying anything."
"No, but I could read it in your face." Genevieve returned to her own dinner, finally eating heartily, something she had not done since the morning before. "Believe me, she is more petrified of you, than you could ever be of her," she mumbled.
"Ah, are you quite certain you are not a witch? Reading the thoughts of others is a sign of unnatural abilities." Guy was continuing to work on his plate.
"I am not and you know it."
Guy leered at her before returning to his meal.
As he had the night previous, Guy waited until the house was quiet, the servants gone before venturing to Genevieve's room with the bottle of oil, praying the kittens were asleep and their mother had left no dead beasties in the floor.
He attempted to have a 'chat' with his other head about keeping it to himself and not rearing up and making a fool out of the knight, but Guy decided he was fighting a losing battle. Instead, he quietly took matters into his own hands attempting again to put out the fire in the fireplace, while Genevieve was bathing, hoping that he would be unable to recover too quickly.
That wish was dashed the moment he stepped into her room.
She was again clothed in his old clothes, the nightrail that had been hanging over a chair that he remembered seeing was no where in sight. "The nightdress is stiff and is being washed. Besides, it's white and these are more comfortable," seeing the question in his expression. She held out her wrists, ties dangling. "Tie me up?"
Guy stared at her for what seemed to the longest time. The longer he glared, the brighter she smiled. "Someday..."
She thrust her arms again. "Please?"
Sigh.
He took her right hand and proceeded to the do the ties on the shirt. "Someday, m'lady," he somehow managed to continue the thought, "I will take you up on your delightful offer in a way you do not expect."
For once, she smirked. "Perhaps, I have an idea and I'm looking forward to it." The reply was so soft, he almost thought he imagined it.
And so, for the second time in 24 hours, Guy found himself settled on the backs of Genevieve's thighs, giving her a backrub he was no longer sure she really needed this evening. Not that he was complaining.
Much.
Truth be told, Guy felt as if she were enjoying it rather enthusiastically.
"I do not believe your back is paining you this eve."
"To the best of my recollection, you offered when you stood in my doorway, wrapped in nary but a bath linen and thoroughly scandalized my... my... what do I call her?"
"Your personal maid."
"Oh." Considering the passion Guy apparently had giving her a massage, it occurred to Genevieve to tell him if he wanted in her pants, he'd keep doing what he was doing, but she thought she should hold her tongue. Considering the modesty of Eleanor and the things Sir Guy had said in anger to her, she had the feeling that men of this time rather liked their women unschooled and unable to compare one man to others, not to mention, there seemed to be a strict social and moral conduct, enforced by this time period's belief system. All she had to go by were the romance novels in which the so-called wise older woman claimed sex was a chore to put up with. Of course the heroine had fantastic swing from the chandelier monkey sex with her hunky knight/cowboy/fireman/duke/earl/caveman anyhoo, damn the old bats anyway!
Or perhaps a woman's virginity was all she had that she could personally barter; the price of it high. Once gone...
On the other hand, if women really thought that, small wonder their men had more mistresses than horses. Or hawks. Or dogs.
She realized he had stopped rubbing her back, waiting for an answer.
"This feels very nice. Thank you." She snuggled her head into the pillow. "I'll repay the favor some time."
Again, she felt him cover her, heard him whisper into her ear. "Yes. You will."
The thought of how he would want her to repay the favor sent chills up her spine, which were quickly followed by his fingers.
"Might I ask you a question?"
It came from the blue. While relaxed, Genevieve was nowhere near the level of nirvana as she had been the night before, so in a sense, the question put her on her guard. Remembering his response from the previous evening, she answered the same way. "You may. That does not mean I will answer."
She felt, rather than heard him snort. "You exhibit certain... symptoms... on the outset of your... menses." It was quiet while he ministered to her back. "The backaches, short-temperedness... poor appetite..." his voice trailed off, the man seemingly engrossed in her skin.
"And your point?" Her voice was soft.
"Nightmares? Bad dreams? This is part of it?"
Genevieve stopped breathing.
His fingers became firmer, more insistent. "You will answer me."
"No."
"No, you do not or no, you will not answer me?"
"No, I do not."
For a moment, the massage came to a halt. Guy lifted his hands, the coolness of the air between them making Genevieve's skin tingle.
"Odd." More oil was trickled into the small of her back, the scent of woods and sandalwood rising in the air. He again lulled her into a strange state of paradise, where the only sound was the crackling of the fireplace and the creaking of the bed ropes.
He murmured softly.
"What was that?" Genevieve was in a state of sheer bliss.
"I said, how long will you tease me, m'lady?"
"Me? Tease?" The quiet sentiment made Genevieve snort. " I'm not the one sitting on your butt, squirming with a hard on and plying naked skin with oil."
"True," he agreed quietly. "However I am the one attempting to alleviate a backache I believe you no longer have."
True that.
"You know," she tried to reroute the man, "the backache is the worst. Once it abates, the other three days are a breeze."
Guy was now grinning in a most evil manner. "Three more days is all?"
Genevieve was starting to yawn. "That is another side effect from the implant. More pain, fewer days. Four days now usually, rather than six." She exhaled. "I guess my body has to cram those missed days into it."
Guy was not paying attention. Instead, he was counting days in his head.
"Guy?"
"Hmmm?" Shaking off his lusty thoughts, he focused again on the back presented to him.
"My British history is non-existent. I know your... Black Brotherhood wants to put John on the throne. But what does he think of that? Does he want to be king?"
Again, the room fell into an almost silence, before he answered. "John expected to be crowned king and might have, if it were not for the scheming and plotting of his own mother."
"Does he know a group of the king's nobles are disgruntled and trying to put him on the throne? What do they expect to gain if he does become king?" The few things Genevieve could remember from her history classes did not paint John in a very good light. Of course and then there was that movie... "Does he know about the group you are involved in?"
Genevieve was not an ignorant woman and Guy was realizing this more and more. He had a feeling she had spent the day examining and putting puzzle pieces together, which she had been and coming up with some terrible but astute conclusions. Guy was born tight-lipped, keeping his thoughts to himself most times. Only once or twice had he ever found someone who he could confide in and truth was, it had been years since he spoke openly to anyone about the things he pondered and thought of.
But Genevieve had an open and curious mind, quick to grasp concepts, and swift to come to conclusions and decisions. On occasion, a niggly voice in the back of his head claimed him she was Vaisey's spy, but he knew better. He could tell when Vaisey was planning, plotting; the man had become rather predictable. As time went on, the more the knight was convinced that the woman between his legs was exactly who she said she was.
Not of this time.
"Who knows Prince John's mind? He keeps his own counsel. However, Vaisey thinks to rule England, to use John as a puppet. He thinks he is more intelligent than the prince Regent. But I tell you," his voice now dropped to a low whisper. "I have spent some months with John and John knows the Sheriff's plans. He will rule this land without anyone's aid and remove anyone who stands in his way." Guy put his head down, concentrating on things besides Genevieve's back. "And I do not intend to stand in the prince's way. If he tries, Vaisey will hang and I will snatch what was his and garner more."
Genevieve looked over her shoulder, seeing the man in a new light. Perhaps, it was not so new after all. "It's all dog eat dog. All about power."
Guy was not aware she was watching him, watching the shadows flicker across his face. "No, not power. Ambition. At first, I just wanted what was mine back. I just wanted enough power to keep it so no one would take it from me or mine ever again."
"And now?"
"And now, I know better. There will always be someone stronger, more powerful, to take what belongs to those who are not as strong." For a moment, Winchester's face flickered before him, the man leading Marian in manacles to his coach, thinking he had won her. Guy had killed the man and felt no remorse whatsoever. How easily that life had been snuffed, taken. All of Winchester's power and money had not kept him safe. Now he looked and met her eyes boldly, the fire of his temper barely held in check. "I will never be weak again."
Genevieve shifted, turned beneath him, his hands now resting on the softness of her stomach. It took every ounce of his self-control to not reach up and cup her breasts. "There is only one way for John to become king, isn't there?"
The fire was low and the room was dark, Guy's eyes glittering like possessed obsidian. "Aye."
"That's why you've chosen to run if Richard returns, isn't it? It isn't because of who you've aligned yourself with. There's more, isn't there?"
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing painfully. She knew too much. Much too much. "Aye."
"Something unforgivable."
"Genevieve-"
"Have you tried-"
God woman! Shut it!
"He still walks the earth, does he not?" She was treading on thin ice, moving too close, discussing things that could endanger her, kill her.
"Your idea or someone over you?"
"The more you speak, the more peril you are in, Genevieve." It was a hissed whisper.
Without taking her eyes from him, she gently grasped his wrists, lifting his hands and placed them at her throat, putting herself completely at his mercy. With a rush, Guy realized just how fragile she was; how much she...
...trusted him...
"Your idea or someone over you?" He felt the sound vibrating beneath his thumbs.
His fingers stroked her neck, teasing the pulsating throb of life there. "Has it not dawned on you? Do you not realize? I am simply a lackey. Someone's evil henchman." His eyes never left hers, glittering orbs in the dark. "I do someone's bidding for them."
Genevieve continued to stare into his eyes, his soul, Guy's hands still at her throat. "How old were you when Vaisey plucked you from whatever hell you were in? How beholden are you to him?"
Guy couldn't take much more. He pulled his hands from her throat and threw himself beside her, pulling her into his arms, as if to cuddle her. "I was nineteen. Please shut it," he beseeched, pressing her face to his chest.
This... this... his arms was such a wonderful, protective place. Genevieve snuggled in, determined to keep him at her side this night. She took in his smell, lavender still, but leather and earth as well. "Not evil. Simply beholden."
Guy tightened his grip on her and kissed the top of her head, taking in her scent. "How do you mean, 'beholden'?"
She was quiet for a moment, tangling her fingers in his shirt, so similar to the one she wore. "It means you feel or he has convinced you, you owe him. Your allegiance, your loyalty-" With this, his heart clutched in fear with how close to the truth she was. "-your life. It means you're in between a rock and a hard place and you don't think you can tell him no." Again, the room turned silent as the two took refuge in each other's arms. As he began to relax, she whispered, low but still enough for him to hear. "Control your destiny, Guy. No one has the right to take that from you. No one has the right to judge you. Be your own man." Within minutes, her breath deepened and evened out, her sleep coming quickly.
So unwilling to disturb her and in some ways, envious of her unfettered slumber, Guy pulled the covers up over them and spent too long, staring at the canopy over the too narrow bed, churning in his own thoughts, before falling into a shallow, restless sleep.
~~~...~~~
In the dark, the deep of the night, Guy fitfully tried to roll over, his arm caught under Genevieve...
Robin's fist crashed into Guy's jaw. "Thief!"
"No more than you!" Guy recovered quickly, an uppercut landing squarely at Hood's chin. "All I wanted was what belonged to me, what you stole!" Again, he struck the smaller man.
Swords materialized in both of their hands. Soon, the sound of metal striking each other rang through the forest.
"Murderer!"
Guy wasn't winded. He pushed the outlaw backwards towards a tightly planted group of trees. "You have killed none? No Saracens while in the Holy Land?" He slashed at the man, drawing first blood. "You lie if you deny it!"
Hood lashed back in fury. "You killed Marian!"
For a moment, the knight froze, before shaking it off. "Is that the best you have got?"
Hood stepped backwards, shock on his face. "Wot? You feel no remorse? No regret?"
The Black Knight sneered. "You do not know what I feel!"
The man attacked the knight in a fury. "You murdering whoreson-"
The knight raised his sword to defend himself, casting off the angry blows. "Old news."
"Bastard!"
"My parents were married. Were yours?"
The outlaw stopped, his breathing heavy. He bent over, hands to his knees. "Do you have no sense of decency? Will you not beg for forgiveness?"
At the word 'forgiveness', something snapped in the tall knight. With several controlled and well-practiced moves, he pressed the obnoxious boy from his childhood back into a tree. "From you? Not hardly!" He disarmed the man and pulled a knife from his belt, his broadsword pinning him to the tree and his knife now against his throat. "Only the king or God has the right to forgive me!" He leaned forward, almost nose to nose with the outlaw. "Last I looked, you were not Richard! Nor are you God!" The customary Gisborne sneer asserted itself. "I will not ask it from you! You do not have the right!"
He thrust-
~~~...~~~
Guy woke with a start, gasping for breath, clinging to the edge of the narrow bed.
You do not have that right, no one has the right, I have to live with this…
The weight and oddly, the comfort of a warm body snuggled and wrapped around his, brought him quickly to his senses.
"WhazisizokaybetterdammitVal..." Genevieve nestled in closer, her ankles between his and her nose in his side. Her hand clutched his shirt. "GodosleepGuy."
Go do sleep Guy.
He hung on to the woman as he eased back more on the bed. Once somewhat comfortably situated and certain she had returned to a deeper sleep, he nuzzled her hair, gloried in the scent, the softness of it. Not realizing what he was doing, he reached up and stroked the mahogany locks, before wrapping one around his index finger. The urge to protect her, to destroy whoever haunted her sleep, her life was over-whelming, more consuming than his desire for Marian. Eventually, his own breathing evened out as he himself slid into a deep, finally dreamless sleep.
~~~...~~~
Genevieve woke up refreshed, secure, alone in her bed...
Alone?
She jerked up, looking around. The entire bed was mussed, a second dent in the pillow next, which was still warm from the body that slept next to her that evening. Replaying the previous night, she concluded that not only had Guy spent the entire night in the bed with her, he didn't touch her sexually, but it was also the best night's rest she had had in ages. Not only since 'coming' here, but for months.
She didn't sleep this well the few times Lamar deigned to spend the night with her!
Suddenly, the bed was cold and staying in it alone was disheartening. Both feet hit the floor with a thud, causing the kittens to startle and mew.
"You alright?"
Genevieve's head jerked up to see Guy standing outside her doorway clad only in leggings, his hair standing up on ends. There was a cloth draped over his shoulder, his face was wet, and he appeared to have a straight razor in his hand.
For some odd reason, Genevieve self-consciously wiped her hands on her posterior. "I'm fine."
"The staff just arrived." He pointed to the bed. "They don't need to know..."
"Oh no!" she quickly agreed. "None of their business." She was now nodding like a bobble headed doll. "Probably would shock poor Eleanor to run away and never return." With this, she dug her toe in the rug. "I forgot. Thank you for keeping her. She's a real sweetie."
Guy just stared.
"Uhm... I need to... you know... take care of things. Girly stuff." She jutted her chin towards the chamber pot.
Guy nodded his head, before reaching for the door and shutting it.
He could hear her exhalation of breath from the other side.
~~~...~~~
Genevieve and Guy were not aware of it, but the change of mood and the subtle shift in their relationship affected the entire household. It breathed, it relaxed. No one said anything when their chairs at the table were moved directly next to each other, touching, nor was it mentioned that the two spent their meals with their heads so close together whispering, that it gave a sense of intimacy between the two.
Over the weekend, Genevieve discovered that if she spent more than twenty minutes attempting to work on her contract, she developed a splitting headache. The only thing she was able to discern in the two day period was whatever commitments she had building-wise and artistically was her responsibility out of her pocket, from the proceeds of the sale.
Will there be anything left?
This 'sale' was looking more and more like a lemon and Genevieve was having second thoughts.
"You mean to tell me that you have just now decided this might not be a wise move?" Guy was stretched out on her bed, taking up all of it, thank you very much, with the notepad in one hand and the iPad in the other, looking back and forth at both. He had taken to spending much time sprawled on her bed, once his servants was gone and hinting loudly that *his* bed was oh so much bigger and more comfortable, not to mention the room was warmer...
Yeah, the man was a veritable heating pad.
And she had slept better and he himself looked rested after that night he spent with her - doing absolutely nothing what the hell is up and wrong with that?...
He didn't look so haunted and fatigued.
"I was hoping we could discuss the stock issue, but if they are going to demand I not work for thirty years, not allow me to teach my craft or keep up with the latest advancements and turn over all of my stock... and this?" Genevieve gestured to the things Guy was holding. "Then no. This isn't looking very good at all and I'm rather reluctant to go through with the deal."
Guy set the notepad and iPad down on the table next to the bed and plucked Maleficent from his stomach, much to her dismay. "If you are so opposed to go through that, perhaps you would prefer to lie next to me and explain to me how your time manages to fly in the air, from place to place, and how you have placed a man on the moon."
"I think you simply want me in a better position to kiss me."
Guy shrugged and looked up at her. "These lips will not kiss themselves." He moved over to give her room as she crawled on the bed and molded herself next to him. "If we... you know..."
"No, I do not know."
Her sigh was comical. "If I start sleeping with you in your bed, will you make me get up before the crack of dawn to come in here?"
"More than likely." Again, a long, theatrical sigh from her. "I suppose in your time, people openly fornicate without the benefit of clergy."
"Pretty much. We call it living together, living in sin, trying it on for size, a dry run before the big day. Cohabitating."
"And this is allowed? This...cohabitating." On one hand, the man was disgusted. On the other, how liberating.
"The church is not a political force, in my time," she admitted quietly. "Many do it for financial reasons. It's cheaper. I know many of the widowed elderly do not marry because it will negatively affect their retirements, their pensions. Many widows would lose their deceased husband's retirement if they remarry, so they simply live with their new lover." She smiled to herself. "I've heard rumors of some who have a hard time with it, going through the ceremony at church, getting the Lord's Blessing, but not getting a government marriage license, therefore not making it legal."
"So the government is in charge of marriage and not the church?" Genevieve was being pulled in closer, tighter to him, his lips in her hair. "And do you believe in or practice in this cohabitating?"
Genevieve shook her head, focusing on his shirt. "No. I mean, if others do that, that's fine. I don't care one way or the other. But for me? If I'm living with someone, we have a set date at the chapel."
"Vows are still sacred?" His mouth moved from her hair to her ear, making it difficult for her to speak, much less think.
"Vows have always been sacred. Some just don't take them as seriously as they should." She managed to get the statement out as he reached her mouth.
For some minutes, he appeased her lips, or perhaps she appeased his. Just as she began to breathe heavy and was flushed, he raised his head. "Now tell me. How does one fly? And what is 'dropping a bomb'? "
She growled while banging her head on his chest.
~~~...~~~
In order to keep the general populace calm, cool, and preferably not talking about her, Genevieve attended Sunday morning mass wearing the least colorful, most somber outfit Isandra had made for her; the grey tunic that Guy thought looked so beggarly with the black kirtle. She sat in the back, so it would be easier to follow the congregation up and down and kneel and genuflect. At least in the back, no one would notice that she didn't know how to genuflect.
The priest was NOT the same one as who had listened to her and counseled her several days before. Truth was, her mind wandered off as the priest was speaking in Latin.
So, she prayed. Genevieve always prayed, always in her head. She prayed for understanding for this contract. She prayed - finally - for a clear head and making the right decision about the sale. She prayed about Sir Guy - if this was hell or a dream, it certainly wasn't funny and if she did... well... you know... did that... and this wasn't hell and she went back, what would happen?
She prayed that no one would sell her a gun so she wouldn't be tempted to kill Lamar upon her return.
But after some thought, she prayed for more time with Sir Sex-Walking. Had it only been a week that she arrived?
And she prayed that he would live up to the hype she created in her head.
She returned to Locksley Hall, alone, to the quiet. Guy was in Nottingham and she could have sworn she heard the house creak. Again, she attempted to work on the contract, only for her eyes to burn within ten minutes. She jumped at every sound.
She ended up reading 'A Knight's Temptation.'
And wondered if Her Knight would think she was a hussy if she handcuffed herself naked to his bed in an attempt to seduce him. He was becoming quite the... chivalrous knight, all of a sudden.
Speaking of, where were her handcuffs? That Man still hadn't returned them! Maybe he wasn't so chivalrous after all.
When Guy arrived later that afternoon, he was surprised to find her antsy, out of sorts; she made him promise never to leave her alone again; to make sure someone - Joffrey, Michael, Thornton, anyone - was in the hall with her. He found her sassiness amusing. That infuriated her. What if Hood showed up?
Give him a black eye, like you gave Kate.
But Sir Guy saw that she was disturbed being left alone. Perhaps, rather than attend Mass at Nottingham, he could have gone with her, here in Locksley.
Some day Guy. You will have to get over the fact the last time you were in that chapel, you did not get married.
Then again, perhaps not. Next Sunday, he would stay put here at Locksley. It wasn't like he attended Mass regularly as of late.
Fiona returned to Locksley on Monday. She was courteous, if slightly cool when she met Genevieve, but as the day wore on, she warmed up to the young woman after seeing how she and the lord of manor got along at breakfast. Being gone a week, she could see the change in Sir Guy; relaxed, not so pale or exhausted. She was observant, watched how their hands touched, their heads tipped together when they whispered, Sir Guy leaving a guard just for her.
"Her speech and manner of dress is strange." She stood in the kitchen in front of a pail of water, washing dishware.
"You get used to it, Fiona." Thornton was drying and putting them on the shelf. ""She stands up to him. They," with this he smiled, "get along."
Fiona looked around to ensure they were not being eavesdropped on. "If he is has not lain with her yet, he will be before the week is over!"
"We hope so."
"THORNTON!" She dropped the pewter goblet back in the water, causing it to splash.
"Fiona," the steward began patiently. "She rouses his ire, she argues with him, they verbally fence with each other, but she never once has insulted him or he, her. He almost smiles."
This shocked the woman. "I have been the cook and housekeeper here since Lord Robin and I have never seen Sir Guy do more than smirk!"
"He dances attendance on her, much like he did Lady Marian. Only Lady Genevieve appreciates it and is kindly to him. If she makes him happy, I pray she never finds out where she came from and stays." He smiled to himself. "I believe they like each other. Perhaps, it will grow into more."
"What does Lord Robin have to say about this?" Fiona hissed.
Thornton sighed heavily. "Lord Robin tried to rob her and was only stopped by Friar Tuck. She had nothing save the clothes she wore and a crucifix and Lord Robin tried to rob her!" Thornton shook his head. "I understand his grief, but he was not and is not thinking straight." They finished the dishes before Thornton whispered, "She took Lady Marian's horse out for a ride on Thursday."
"Sir Guy allowed it?"
"Oh no." Thornton was smiling at the memory. "She had that horse saddled and was trotting out with Michael the Red chasing after her, terrified he would be flogged. Sir Guy caught them, but when he and Lady Genevieve returned alone, he made her promise she would only ride with him afterwards."
"Still, it is sinful and a disgrace-"
Thornton gently grabbed her wrist. "Remember, Fiona. He is lord of this manor, regardless of what we feel in our heart or want to believe. He will do as he will and we can accept it and hold our tongues or lose our tongues. Eleanor did a fine job filling doing your chores this past week. Remember, we are all replaceable."
And with that, the man dried his hands and went to the study to record the week's receipts and make a list of the hall's needs.
~~~…~~~
Monday's sunset was bright and the air crisp, but during the night, thunder rolled in and the sun rose behind clouds and stormy weather. So wanting to leave before the weather worsened, the sheriff met Sir Jasper in the courtyard, not allowing him to even as much as dismount. Vaisey's horse was already saddled in the castle barn, his saddlebags firmly attached behind before John's man was under the portcullis and on his way.
"How long will you be gone?" Guy followed Vaisey out into the bailey, guards mounted, lined up. He knew how long Vaisey would be gone, but he wanted to hear the man say it again. If it made Vaisey think less of the knight, so be it. It suited Guy's desires and need for the man to not think he would or could betray him, when needed. 'Vaisey thinks I am weak and have not a brain in my head. Let him think that.'
It was a gray day, misty. It had rained all night the night before and Vaisey was relieved Sir Jasper showed up in the nasty elements, therefore not making him put off his trip to Winchester's. Guy was surprised the sheriff was leaving for Earl's, regardless. There was not much of a break and it was not showing signs of dissipating any time soon. As the sheriff approached his own horse, the lone guardsman not in the saddle, got down on all fours, creating a step up for the man. For not the first time, Guy was grateful that particular job was no longer his and hadn't been for years and years. For some odd reason, Vaisey considered a 'hand up' as too feminine for his tastes and refused such aid, preferring to humiliate an underling.
Vaisey was pulling on his riding gloves, leaving the guard in the mud. "Several days. Most likely, I will be gone a week. I should be back well in time before Sir Jasper arrives, however if I am not, send a rescue party for me and make sure the peasants are safe in the woods. Hood might be a pain in my posterior, but he will protect the people." He leaned closer, forcing the knight to stoop down somewhat. "You know where the secret entrance is, in and out, correct?" Guy nodded. Good God, he had overseen the work personally. "Good. Get as many of the townspeople out as possible. I don't mind rebuilding if the place is razed, but stocking the castle with new tax paying citizens and servants will be difficult. They'll get tired of living in the forest after a while. People like their creature comforts." He patted the much taller man on the shoulder as if he were a child, something that infuriated Guy. "Winchester's heir needs to be brought to heel again. I would send you, but I think a more delicate hand is necessary." Guy forced his face to remain impassive, keeping his scowl to himself. Vaisey's 'delicate hand' was nothing more than a ruse. The man was heavy handed and cruel. "His last missive was positively surly, therefore it is time to remind him where he stands. With both of us gone, Hood will take over and we cannot have that, can we? A clue. No." He turned and mounted up. Picking up the reins, he leaned over. "Besides, we both know you are enjoying your sport with your leper friend and I fear a separation this soon in your honeymoon stage would make you boorish company. Enjoy it while you can."
"I suppose you would have me wait judgments and punishments?"
"Only the most heinous." Vaisey did enjoy a good hanging or beheading. The man was positively psychotic with joy when it came to watching people suffer or die. For not the first time since her death, Guy pondered on Marian's thoughts questioning the man's sanity. "Otherwise, no. However, of course, if it is a grievance against you, yours, or your lands, you may deal as you see fit. Chop off a few hands, hang a few people. That should keep everyone in line. Taxes are current, but if anyone gives you a hard time, raise them. Oh, and plan our Faire. Announce it. Hire musicians, street performers. Bring the gaming tables from the cellars and dust them off. Prepare the jousting arena." With that, he called out to his guards, who surrounded him and left. As the man's entourage cleared the portcullis and cantered off down the road, one could sense, if not hear, a collective sigh of relief from the castle itself. Turning his back to the departing sheriff, Guy made his way indoors. There were several things that needed tended to. As he entered the hall, his sister sidled up next to him.
"Sheriff's gone, Guy will play." She walked her fingers up his chest, until he grabbed them and roughly shoved them to the side.
"Bugger off. I have things to tend to." With a jerk of his head, he motioned to one of his guards.
"Still, I imagine you will be so busy, you'll be sending a messenger to retrieve the whore." Again, Isabella was dancing around, moving quickly to evade the guard. "I hear she's got you jerking on a string. One would think-"
In a blink of an eye, Guy moved, pinning the woman against a wall. Servants in the hall made quick 'U' turns and avoided the feuding siblings with everything they could. "How soon, Isabella," he hissed in her ear, 'how soon did you ignore your sacred vows and allow another to stick his tongue down your throat?" His sister turned white. "Have you allowed Hood liberties?" His hand around her throat, if he didn't kill her, she would surely bruise by the morrow. "She could teach you lessons on gentility and manners. She is more of a lady than you will ever be!" With that, he flung the woman from him. "The Sheriff is planning a faire. Make yourself available to Vaisey's steward and chatelaine about the setting up of the Great Hall. Earn your keep!" With that parting shot, he stalked off, leaving heated fury in his wake.
As she straightened her gown, she felt a not so gentle hand grasp her arm. She allowed the guard to remove her from the corridor and escort her to her room. During the short journey, she smirked to herself, so similar to her brother's. Well, I wondered how close the two of you are. Now I know. And if you are questioning my nobility, it clearly means she is not what you say she is.
~~~...~~~
By afternoon, it was pouring rain. Guy stood in the window of his quarters, watching, praying for a break in the weather to return home. It had been four days. For three nights, he lay by her side in the dark, in a too narrow bed, teasing her, teasing himself. Yes, the conversation had been enlightening, stimulating. She refused to speak of England's history, swore it was not her forte, whatever 'her forte' meant, but he had a feeling she knew more than she pretended she didn't and chose to leave him in the dark. He wondered why. But what he learned about her time...what he learned about her.
He wanted her. And not for just physical release. He... wanted... her. He did not want her to leave. For the first time in ages, he could breathe, he looked forward to something that Vaisey had not dabbled his fingers in. Marian said she saw good in him; Genevieve made him feel there was good in him, that he could accomplish anything. It was if she was drawing it out and polishing it, polishing him like a rare gem. Genevieve tried to understand him, things, in ways Marian did not. He often thought of leaving, fleeing, starting again, but now, he could not imagine him doing that without her at his side.
She had been there in his home a little over a week. What magic had she used to ensnare him, bewitch him?
He decided that he did not care.
As the day wore on and the sun set, the weather worsened. With great reluctance, Sir Guy decided to spend the night at Nottingham. The minute the weather broke tomorrow, he would head home. Joffrey was there; he could send a messenger, and under normal conditions would. But if he was going to send a man out in this weather, he might as well go himself. He didn't wish an ague or consumption on anyone. She would understand.
He wished his body understood.
~~~...~~~
"Lady Genevieve; 'e won't be comin' home in this sort o' weather. Come an' eat. Fioner outdone 'erself."
She stood by the main hall door, watching the rain fall. "I know." She felt a kind hand at her arm.
"Sir Guy would be displeased if he thought we allowed you to waste away." With a tender force, Thornton pulled her from the doorway and shut them. "We will all sit at the table, so you won't be alone. Joffrey will be here tonight and Eleanor has offered to stay as well, if you like."
"Joffrey will be fine." Genevieve allowed herself to be herded to the table, where yes, Eleanor was now laying out four extra places for her and the servants. Fiona had left the minute she had finished cooking, in attempt to beat the rain. She allowed them to lift her spirits for the meal, but when it was finished, the places cleared and it was simply her and Joffrey, the house grew quiet, too quiet. Bored out of her skull, she brought down her iPad, notebook and a pencil and damning the headache, if it decided to come, she set to work at the dining room table, on the next part of the contract.
~~~…~~~
For not the first time that evening, Guy regretted his decision to stay in Nottingham for the night. The fine rainy mist turned into a drizzle, and as the temperatures dropped, he stood in front of the open window. With his arms crossed defiantly across his chest, he decided that the rashness of his resolution to stay put for the evening, was the fault of the little she-demon in Locksley. No doubt, it would be pouring rain on the morrow and he would either ride home in it or decide to continue his stay; something which was not tolerable in the least. Vaisey tested his temper sorely anymore and Isabella was a bitch.
There was a scratching at the door.
The knight scowled. It was late. If the sheriff had been in residence and wanted his services, they would come pounding, yelling. Isabella… well, Isabella could hang. "Who is it?" He made sure his voice did not sound the least bit welcoming.
"It's Felicity. One of the maids."
A maid? This late? What the-
Guy threw the door open. "I have no need for a maid at this late hour."
The girl – surely she was no more than a girl – bowed her head, before looking nervously up and down the hall. "Please, Sir Guy…" Her voice trailed off and she began to squirm anxiously. "May I speak to you? Privately?"
With a dismissive nod, he opened the door wider, beckoning her in. "What?"
A blush crept up her face and across her neck. "I came to… inquire… if you… wouldlikesomecompanytonight?" The last five words came out in a rush, flying from the girl's lips.
Guy wasn't sure he heard her right. "Wot?"
She swallowed hard, measuring her words carefully. "I said I came to inquire if you would like some company tonight." Again, she began to fidget with her sash. "I came to offer my services." The last was a whisper.
With this, the knight thought for a moment. It had been a while since a woman had shared his bed, some months now since Eadyth, but this was no woman. He reached out and took her by the chin, lifting it, to look at her closely. As he stepped closer, he could smell sweat, the kitchen on her. She needed a bath and needed one badly. Living with Genevieve spoiled him to the smell of a fresher body. "You offer to service me?" Eyes shut tight, she nodded once. A single tear crept from the side. "How old are you?"
"Almost fourteen, m'lord." He had to strain to hear her.
Guy turned her loose and stepped away from her, deep in thought. Men had needs and he had not allowed a woman to see to his needs since his return from London. "Are you experienced?" In the past, he had fantasized that the wench beneath him was Marian, even at times with Aedyth. As of late however, when he had seen to his own needs, it wasn't Marian's face dancing behind his eyelids; rather a dark-eyed vixen who spoke with a strange, unknown tongue. Somehow, the thought of imagining her while taking another held little to no appeal, whatsoever. He wanted Genevieve.
"No, my lord."
Guy spun on her in horror. "No!" He shooed at her. "Go. Do not test me." He twisted back towards the open window, waiting to hear the door open and shut. When it did not, he became angered. "I said-"
"My lord, please… my mother…" She was beginning to cry, he could hear it. "There was a kitchen fire a few days ago." The knight nodded to himself. He had heard one of the guards talking about it. The wood had been piled by a child who didn't know what he was doing and a burning log fell out, catching one of the cook's skirts afire. "She was burned badly, both legs. She needs a healer, but I have no money and as she unable to work, the sheriff refuses to pay her, even for… for… for…"
Ah. "So," Guy whispered, still watching the gently falling rain outside the open casement. "You sacrifice your virginity for the price of a healer." He swallowed hard. What would he have sacrificed to heal his own mother? Bring her back from the dead? Or his father, for that matter? "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"My lord?"
He looked at her over his shoulder, staring hard. "Why me? Why have you chosen me?" With this he turned, looking very much the demon in the low light. "Surely there are others closer to your-"
"They say," she interrupted, and after seeing him glare, she cleared her throat, "I mean, it is whispered that you are… gentle; a kind lover. And that you are generous."
"Ah." For not the first time in many months, he thought of the little kitchen maid he had been mildly fond of. Searching deep, he realized he couldn't remember her face. She was soft, kissed with a mouth of honey and when she became pregnant with what she claimed was his child, he had been fascinated in the changes, the ripening of her body, taking her up until days before she gave birth. Vaisey had been furious that he had stooped so low as to impregnate a mere servant! She disappeared soon after the babe arrived and for the first time, he wondered, hoped, she escaped, escaped him, left with the baby – a boy – Seth - and was somewhere safer than Nottingham.
Perhaps Marian helped her… it would be like her to do such…
In one quick, fluid motion, he went from the opening in the wall, to directly in front of her. Both hands gently cupped her face, lifting it, and he lowered his mouth to hers. She was very inexperienced, remaining rigid beneath the sweetness, the tender coaxing of his lips and when he tasted tears, he lifted his head and turned her loose. "Save your maidenhead for one who loves you and will cherish the gift, girl." He stepped away, away from her. Despite everything, he was limp, not desiring of her in the least bit. "Now, go."
"Sir Guy, please-"
"What part of 'no' is not clear?" What little bit of patience he had was quickly dissipating.
Felicity was now crying in earnest and fumbling at the ties at the neck of her blouse. "She needs a healer and I fear for her life. Please, we have nothing of value to sell or trade." She found her fingers caught in a vise, a grip so tight it was painful and it caused her to cry out.
"Do. Not. Barter. Your. Maidenhead." Each word was stressed, hissed between clenched teeth, each word louder than the previous one. She opened her mouth to continue, but he put up a single finger, effectively cutting off her retort. "Turn around. Close your eyes."
When she had done so, he went to the trunk at the foot of his bed, pulling the key from the thong around his neck and opening it. From his things, he pulled a drawstring purse, opening it and dumping several copper and silver pieces from it. Inspecting what he had in his hand, he selected a few that should be more than generous for the small service he was going to ask. He closed the trunk lid and stood up.
"Felicity. Look at me." She turned back around, staring at the coins in his hand and her blouse gapping. "Tie yourself back up, girl!" he grimaced. He ground out the word 'girl.' "Do not attempt to whore yourself again."
"Yes sir." She quickly began to resituate her clothing.
"I spend more and more time in Locksley than here and I do not see that changing. However, when I am in Nottingham, I find that my room smells musty and the dust offends my nose. You are to keep it cleaned and aired out when I am not here. Keep fresh firewood in the fireplace and clean linens as well. Can you do that?"
"Yes sir."
"Also," he put up a long, single finger, "Lady Marian's chamber has not been taken."
She shook her head. "No sir."
"You are to clean and keep her rooms as well. Pack her things if there are any left. The next time I am here, I will take responsibility for them and take charge of the room. Take nothing; I know each and every piece in the room. Hold out your hand." She was shaking, terrified of the generous amount of coins dropped in her hand. "Should you do a good job, this will continue." He nodded to the door. "Now go, before I change my mind." As she turned, he grabbed her by the arm. "Say nothing, to no one. If I hear one word of this, I will make sure the sheriff knows you are making money on the side and he will tax you for it."
Felicity was shaking her head. "Yes sir. I won't tell a soul, Sir Guy." Quickly, she scurried out the door, it whispering shut in her wake.
Guy rolled his eyes. Turning down willing flesh. Virgin flesh at that! What has the world come to?
May my heart know only virtue. My might shall uphold the weak.
Suddenly, he felt the need for his own bed in Locksley, the desire to sit down to break his fast with Genevieve sitting across from him. It didn't matter that her nose would be in that notebook, scribbling away at everything she was scribbling away at. With a growl, he grabbed his change purse from the trunk and throwing on his leather duster, he blew out the candles and stormed from his rooms, ready to make a stable boy's life hell, and damning this wretched weather…
… as well as the wench he now desired to bed above all others. Somehow, he had to get her out of his mind and out of his system.
~~~...~~~
'cause that's the one you really want
~~~...~~~
A/N - First, I made an error in the books Genevieve was reading. It was A Knight's Vengeance, not The Vengeful Knight. And by request... the listing is as follows:
Evie's Knight (The Knight Series) by Kimberly Krey
A Knight's Temptation, A Knight's Persuasion and A Knight's Vengeance by Catherine Kean
Knight's Caress - Lynette Vinet
Only in her Dreams, - Kristina McKnight
Seducing the Knight, (Brotherhood of the Scottish Templars) Gerri Russell
Sword of the Raven, - Diana Duncan
Wild Viking Princess - (The FitzRam Family Medieval series) Anna Markland
A Man of Value, (The Montbryce Legacy) Anna Markland
Warrior's Bride, - Gerri Russell
Passion in the Blood, (The Montbryce Legacy) Anna Markland
Conquering Passion, (The Montbryce Legacy) Anna Markland
Lady in White, - Denise Domning.
All of these came from Amazon and at one point or other were free...