Mistress to the Norman Lord Read online

  She wished she could see herself in full, the way others might see her, face and figure and all. As it was, she had to content herself with pulling down a strand of hair to rest against the fabric, stroking the smooth folds above the belt, squinting to see how the material traced the forms of her chest and hips. But she couldn't see her face, didn't know how it looked above such magnificence, couldn't tell if she resembled a lady or if she seemed rather a monster out of children's tales, poorly concealed in human guise.

  Mother could tell. Aelfid wandered outside, to where Luke was teaching the boys how to clean leather. Mother sat on a bench in the shade, pretending to sew but really watching the scene. And it was heartwarming, Aelfid reflected, to see the two little figures entirely at peace, bent on industrious work while Luke recounted tales of his exploits in Normandy.

  "Well, look at you." Mother laid down her sewing entirely and turned to Aelfid with shining eyes. "That is a wonderful colour."

  Aelfid preened. She could feel beautiful now, without fear of what harassment it might lead to.

  "Very pretty," Luke concurred, and offered her an approving nod. He got no further than that before the boys clamoured for him to resume his tale, and he did so with cheerful grace.

  Aelfid relaxed, breathed out from her stomach, dared to believe at last that all their troubles were truly over. And it was part thanks to her. If she hadn't gone with Guy when the opportunity offered, if she hadn't found the passion and courage to speak to him honestly, things might not have reached such a miraculous conclusion. Despite her own foolishness, her vanity in imagining that such an encounter might lead to more, it was worth any amount of grief at her own loss to see her family so happy and content.

  Hoofbeats from the lane startled her. A party of horsemen approached at a leisurely pace, as if on their way to somewhere else entirely. Aelfid wandered over, curious. She felt only one quick hot stab at the thought that Guy might be among them, but rapidly dismissed the idea. He had no reason to visit. And she didn't want him to, not really. It was too painful to have him near.

  But he was. She saw him dazzlingly clear, illuminated by the stark sunshine. Then she saw the lady beside him, and she could have wept. Because this was a woman of his own station in life, with a sweeping dress that made Aelfid ashamed of her own clumsy workmanship, seated on horseback with an air of relaxed confidence, chatting to Guy with all the ease of affectionate friendship. This was a lady he could marry.

  Perhaps one he'd already married. Aelfid's heart froze over. She'd heard no such news, but then no one had cause to tell her. It wasn't as if anyone but herself could have had such dreams...

  Guy checked his horse then, with a sudden quick movement as if he'd heard the call from her heart to his. Stared right across to where she stood, and the intensity of his gaze tore the breath from her lungs.

  He was the only man she could ever marry. The only man she could ever love. She knew that now, with a clarity that pained her, even as the full extent of her folly was laid bare.

  The lady turned to look at her also, with surprise and interest. And then back at Guy. They were too far away for Aelfid to hear what words were spoken, but the tone was not hostile.

  And then Guy broke the line, rode across to where Aelfid stood hot and embarrassed in her ridiculously presumptuous dress. Bowed to her, there in the saddle, as if she were a lady and he not her lord.

  "You look beautiful," he said.

  Aelfid smiled up at him. All at once she felt completely at peace - like the boys under Luke's tutelage, like Mother watching them thrive. Everything was well with the world, because Guy was here and he saw her and he cared enough to stop and speak with her, even though his wife was watching.

  Aelfid curtsied. "I thank your lordship."

  Guy sat utterly still. Then swung himself off the horse, so abruptly that both Aelfid and the animal shied. He threw aside the reins, took each of Aelfid's hands in his, and said: "Will you not call me by name?"

  Aelfid tried to speak, but found that she couldn't.

  "Hell," Guy muttered. "I had meant to lead up to this, but... Would you call me 'husband', then?"

  She stared at him, still mute. Then turned at the thuds of hooves approaching, looked up into the face of the lady who'd accompanied him. Cursed herself for a fool, because the lady was far older than he, and there was no mistaking those eyes.

  "This is my mother," Guy said. "I've met yours, you'll meet mine." He put one arm around Aelfid's shoulders, and the warm weight of it gave her comfort. "Kindly give greeting to my intended wife."

  Utter silence hung over them all. The lady turned a stunned expression first to Aelfid and then to Guy. "You did not mention any such plans to me before."

  Nor me, Aelfid's heart whispered. She could not believe it, there must be some error. Guy was teasing her, perhaps, or else she was dreaming, lost on the meandering paths of her own fevered imagination. Lords did not marry peasant girls.

  "I brought you to meet her," Guy said cheerfully. "What more do you want?" He turned to Aelfid and kissed her brow, lightly, a soft caress. "Don't look so startled. Even lords can change their minds."

  She began to believe it now. Because he was here with her, holding her safe within his arms, smiling at her with warm affection. Not a lord in this moment, not with her. Just a man, the only man she wanted.

  "Very charming," the lady admitted, in a tone not so much disapproving as frankly bewildered. "But, my dear - " She raised her head to scan the surrounding landscape, as if expecting a castle to have sprung up in the midst of shorn fields. "Who is she?"

  Aelfid looked to Guy, who merely smiled. That gave her courage enough to say: "If it please your ladyship, I am Aelfid."

  "But where on earth do you live?"

  "Here," Aelfid said simply. Guy squeezed her shoulders. "On his lordship's - on Guy's land."

  The lady transferred the stare to Guy. "Am I to understand that you - that she - that there is a... prior understanding of some sort?"

  "Yes," Guy said with fearless confidence. "And I mean to marry her on the strength of it. Entirely unsuitable, I agree. Terrible scandal. But she's the woman I've chosen, and I hope you will give us your blessing. You'll like her. She's a good worker."

  Aelfid choked back a laugh.

  "I've decided to keep women at the castle again," Guy went on. "Brightens up the place. Which naturally means marriage. Anything else would be disgraceful. Would you take charge of it, Mother? Attendants and so forth. I know I can rely on you."

  The lady mellowed visibly, and began to regard Aelfid with something approaching kindness. "Yes, of course. Naturally. The daughter of a respectable farmer... A local family, that is wise. One likes to maintain close ties with the community." She peered up towards the farmhouse. "Is that her father?"

  "My bailiff," Guy said. "Excellent man. Distinguished himself in my service in Normandy."

  "I see." The lady positively smiled at Aelfid. "Well, then, I suppose we had better get acquainted."

  Aelfid smiled back, tremulously, but with dawning hope. "I should like that very much."

  "Perhaps we'll stay and take a bite of food. We can spare half an hour." The lady turned her horse and began to ride towards the farmhouse.

  Aelfid shot a panicked glance at Guy. "It's not a fine place at all - "

  "I've seen it," Guy broke in. "Clean and solid and well maintained. God knows I've slept in worse."

  She stood awed by this sudden change in her good fortune. Groped for fear, but found that it had fled. Guy was with her, shining-eyed and smiling, the man she had beheld in that one sacred moment on the road. She had known then what she knew now: this was his own true self and hers. They belonged together, and together they would make all things right.

  "Are you truly serious?" she asked him earnestly, and shivered at her own frankness of speech. "About marriage. Because it's not fitting for a lord and a peasant girl - "

  He grinned at her. "I am lord, so I decide what is fitting.
Besides, who's to say it hasn't happened before? I can trace my own family six generations back, but before then?" Guy shrugged. "What of yourself? Any Norman lords among your ancestry? There might have been, you know."

  Aelfid smothered a laugh. "Mother did tell me a few tales. She meant them as a warning."

  "Consider them a promise." He grew serious. "With a happy ending, in case that was lacking in her version of events. I know what men can be - lords among them, too. But I strive to be a good one."

  "You are," Aelfid whispered. "The very best of lords."

  He kissed her gently, as if he also trod delicately on this new and unfamiliar road. "Will you forgive me for the way I behaved? It is not easy to shake off this cloak of privilege. But with you, I will attempt it."

  "You've done nothing wrong," Aelfid said. The memory of savaged backs rose before her mind. But perhaps Osulf and his uncle had deserved every lash - not only for what they had done to her family and herself, but because they had betrayed the trust of their lord and their village too. If men of power turned to evil, the harvest could be dreadful indeed.

  "I must be harsh at times," Guy said. "But I've been too harsh for too long. I want to learn how to be gentle again."

  Aelfid reached up to caress his cheek. "Did I complain?"

  Guy smiled at that. "No. But please do, if you have cause."

  He turned and motioned to one of the men, who led a horse forward. Aelfid recognised with joy the animal she'd ridden all the way here, small and patient and easy to manage.

  "Mother imagined I was bringing her a spare mount," Guy said. "Can't offer a guess as to why." He looked deep into Aelfid's eyes. This time she did not fall, because she had already landed in a soft place brilliant with light. "Would you ride out with me, madam?"

  "I will," Aelfid said, breathless. "If you'll teach me how."

  "Anything." He lifted her into the saddle, then stood there beneath her, all one with the dirt and grass, looking up at her as if in supplication.

  Thus mounted, she towered above him, surrounded by air and sky. And she realised then that there was no true difference between herself and this man. Not really: not before God. It was only a matter of height.

  "I don't want a life without you," Guy said. "I've understood that at last. God knows what work I'll find for you to do around the castle - although I dare say my mother will take care of it. But I want you with me. In my home." He lowered his voice. "And in my bed."

  Aelfid reached out for him, touched his hand that rested lightly on the reins. "I want that also."

  Guy led her slowly towards the house, walking beside her as she rode. The farm that lay beside them was beautiful, Aelfid saw: smaller and humbler than his castle, certainly, but with a dignity that came from long years of use. It was a good home to her family, had been for generations, and there was nothing low or contemptible about that.

  And she was leaving it, because her family did not need her any more. They would be happy, and they would be safe. Their welfare was assured. She could go her own way without fear.

  "Do you think I can learn to be a lady?" she asked Guy, her confidence faltering at the sight of his mother arriving in splendour to greet her own mother who rose politely from the seat under the trees.

  "Of course." Guy smiled up at her. "As I learned to be a lord. We all have to begin somewhere."

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  About the Author:

  Maria Ling lives on the edge of a moor in Yorkshire, England, surrounded by ruined abbeys and haunted caves. Visit her Smashwords author page for more stories.

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  Also by this author:

  The Norman's Captive

  Maria Ling

  The Norman held out his palms to her, empty. Then unstrapped his belt and placed it very carefully on the table, sword and knife and all. Held out his palms again.

  Well, she hadn't imagined he was taking her here for a knife-fight. And he was unarmed now, she could - no, she couldn't strike at him, that was a ridiculous idea, he wore a mailcoat that covered his chest and arms and reached to his knees. If he were asleep she might get close enough to stab him in the eye, but he wouldn't sleep for a while yet, no, she understood that well enough. He spoke again now, in that hated Norman tongue, it made her want to spit. But his tone was mild and low, not curt as it had been with the men, she could almost believe he was pleading rather than commanding. Which was absurd, of course, he could order her as he liked and force her to comply, no one would defend her.

  He mimicked the sheathing of a knife. Oh yes, that would suit his purpose well. Anger flared up within her, dissolving the worst of the fear.

  When a Norman knight captures her as she flees her abusive home, Saxon peasant girl Leofe knows exactly what she faces. But Roland proves to be unlike any man she's ever met - and since her survival depends on pleasing him, she resolves to do so fast.

  Available now from your preferred ebook retailer.

  ***

  Also by this author:

  Cloistered Bride

  Maria Ling

  "You might want to fetch your cloak out." Richard pulled his hood up to shadow his face. "It's going to rain."

  So it did, a torrent that lashed down and soaked through her pretty cloak, soaked the boards and streamed up under her skirt. She was drenched long before it passed, sat hunched and miserable as the rain poured over her and obliterated all vision.

  "Sorry about this," Richard said. "I would have been happy to wait until I could convey you better."

  As if he wasn't a man, free to dispose of himself as he chose. He should try being a woman, a mere chattel to be passed from one man's care to another, without regard for her wishes or feelings or needs.

  "I am content," Clarice said, because she could win nothing by grumbling, and God would have His own way. He was a man too, after all.

  "Are you?" Richard replied. "Bloody hell. I wouldn't be."

  Clarice stifled a laugh, and then was shocked that she found such a remark amusing. "A true Christian is always content with God's will."

  "Right," her husband said. "Of course." And then added, so quietly that she guessed he thought she couldn't hear: "Christ. I married a nun."

  When convent-educated heiress Clarice is married off to an impoverished knight, she is certain he only wants her for her money. But Richard desires her body, and with him Clarice discovers a passion she never knew she possessed.

  Available now from your preferred ebook retailer.

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