BindingPassion (11 page)

“Did he so?” Rosalind sounded shocked. “But why? I know in
truth I deserved the punishment my lord delivered, for I did deceive him in an
important matter. I cannot conceive Philip would inflict such a punishment
undeserved.”

“He did not.” Mary went on to explain her actions on
Philip’s arrival, her dressing as “Martin” and her efforts to harass him into
leaving the manor. “I made his life a misery,” she concluded. “And when he
caught me out, he had no choice but to make clear he wouldn’t tolerate such,
else none would ever respect him as the lord of this manor.”

“You weren’t angry with him for punishing you then?”
Rosalind asked as they walked down corridor of empty guest chambers.

“I was somewhat at the time. He thought me a boy and
therefore the chastisement was harsher than it might have been had he known the
truth. I was angry while he caused me pain. Yet afterward I understood why he’d
done it, and…”

“Aye? And?” the Countess prompted.

Mary drew a deep breath and turned them toward the working
areas of the manor. “Rosalind, you said your lord whipped you for your
deception. How felt you afterward?”

The other woman took a moment to answer. “Directly after the
punishment, he introduced me to the… service he required of me. He took great
care to ensure that I found just as much pleasure in the performance of that
service as I had felt pain from the whipping. It was quite a wondrous
experience. And I discovered…”

“Aye?”

“I don’t enjoy being punished,” Rosalind said slowly. “But
afterward…The pain can add something more to the feeling when pleasure comes
after it. I understand it not, but have found it to be so.”

“Your lord has punished you again since that first time?”

Rosalind blushed. “Aye. Sometimes I have deserved it, and
sometimes…” She shrugged and looked amused. “At times I’ve deliberately
provoked him.” She stopped for a moment and added, thoughtfully, “I think
sometimes there is a part of me needs to know he is my strong lord and master,
a man who’ll not accept my misbehavior, disrespect or dereliction of duty. But
he’s never unjust and will always give me whatever I want, if it be in his
power.” She chuckled a bit. “I wouldn’t tolerate it from a man who wasn’t fair
and honorable, but with Jeoffrey, I need to know he can master me, care for me,
and demand the best of me.”

That gave Mary much to think on. For the rest of the tour of
the manor, they spoke on less personal topics, until the very end, when
Rosalind confided her fears about the coming childbirth.

“I look forward to seeing our child,” she said. “Yet do I
worry that all will be well with the babe… and with myself. Should I not
survive, I know not how Jeoffrey will go on.”

“You’re a strong, healthy lady,” Mary said. “There should be
no reason to expect problems.”

“Nay,” Rosalind laughed and waved it off. “Forgive me. Being
in this condition at times makes me prey to silly fears and worries.”

“I think not that they’re silly,” Mary said. “Rather, common
to us all, I should believe. I suppose when I, too, have a babe growing, I’ll
know the same fears.” Mary heard her own words and was stunned by them. Before
Philip’s arrival, she had thought it unlikely she would ever know that
satisfaction, yet now she was beginning to expect it.

Later, they sat over embroidery for a while and discussed
Rosalind’s family, which had been destroyed by William de Railles and his
ambition, much as Mary’s own had. They talked about the arrangements at
Highwaith for the babe and how much she and Jeoffrey looked forward to its
arrival. They walked on the grounds and discussed fashion and running a
household.

Toward the end of the day when they parted so the Countess
could rest before dinner, Mary realized she’d confided in Rosalind in ways she
had never done with anyone else. Philip had been right yet again when he’d said
she’d like his friends.

* * * * *

Philip spent most of his time with Jeoffrey, either in the
office, or more frequently, out around the manor, watching the young men
practice their fighting skills, checking on the progress of repairs or talking
about crops and cattle.

They talked at great length about managing the land and the
manor, the possibilities for increasing crops, the types of livestock best
suited to the place, and how to keep the serfs at peace. They discussed the
need for keeping discipline in the manor and on the lands and methods for doing
so.

Philip confessed he still considered Jeoffrey’s methods a
bit sterner than they needed to be, but he had come to understand better how
essential it was that all learn to respect their lord and his justice. He
admitted to his friend how hard he found it to administer punishment when
needed.

Jeoffrey agreed. “I know you think I do it more often than
needed, yet I’ve never found it easy, either.”

“People who were strangers and nothing to you are suddenly
your
people and you’re responsible for their well-being and prosperity. It changes
the way you view them. I wasn’t trained to be the lord of anything. I have to
find my way through the morass as best I can.”

“It’s no easy responsibility,” Jeoffrey agreed. “And it
matters not how much supposed training you received. When faced with the
obligations, you find you’re still not well-prepared.” He shrugged. “You learn
and do the best you may. And there are compensations.”

“Aye,” Philip agreed.

“Would the Lady Mary be among them?”

“Aye.”

Jeoffrey frowned at him. “I hear a reservation. What is
between you? She’s a very comely lady, and you’re aware of it. I’ve seen how
you look at her.”

Philip explained to him about Mary’s history and her
problems with conjugal relations. “She’s willing to let me try to introduce her
to it as it was meant to be.”

“Then there’s no doubt of the outcome,” Jeoffrey proclaimed.
“If a doughty knight such as yourself cannot woo and win her, none can do so.”

“Yet this is not the sort of war I’ve been trained to.”

“Aye, but your heart knows the way. Listen to it.”

“Is that how you won Rosalind?”

Jeoffrey hesitated. “I think the Lord God may have been
acting for me. She’s been such a miracle in my life that no efforts of mine
could have earned it.”

“Then I suppose I must pray for my own miracle.”

“Perhaps a small one. But I’ve seen the lady watch you as
well, and her heart is yours already. With patience and care, her person will
be as well.”

Philip drew a long breath. “I hope you have the right of
that, my friend. Much of my hope of future happiness rests with her.”

At dinner, they all talked and laughed together. Mary came
to see the warm sense of humor that lurked beneath the Earl’s stern expression.
On several occasions, she saw him bend a look of such aching tenderness on
Rosalind, there could be no question he loved and treasured his wife.

When the Highwaiths finally departed, the manor seemed
almost too quiet and empty for a while. She missed Rosalind’s cheerful, chatty
company. There was enough to do, however, that she couldn’t linger long on her
departed friend.

And that evening, Philip asked her to keep him company,
promising to show her new delights.

As before, he kissed and petted her until she was almost
shaking with the heat that ran though her, then he stripped off her clothes and
carried her to the bed. His hands and fingers worked her breasts until little
shocks of pleasure radiated from her nipples and spread all through her,
settling most strongly in the area of her womb.

He told her how beautiful she was, how much he appreciated
her trust and delighted in her body. He stroked down her body, over her belly,
along her legs, then up again on the insides of her thighs until he reached the
center of her.

He parted her legs and stroked the folds of flesh of her
quim until she was quivering and nearly overwhelmed by the bolts of pleasure
tearing through her. She felt when he rested a careful finger at her opening,
then gently inserted it a little way. He worked it in and out until it was
slick with her juice and slid more easily.

All of it made her body tense until her back arched and she
clutched the bed covers in her fists as she moaned and squealed with each blast
of sensation.

He paused for a moment. The he leaned in closer to her slit
to see better. At least she thought that was the reason. She realized she was
wrong, when a soft, whisper of air blew over her quivering flesh as he gently
breathed on the sensitive areas.

After a minute or two of that, he said, “I’m gong to kiss
you down here.”

His touch had sent shards of pleasure ripping through her,
but when his rough tongue ran over her most sensitive flesh it was like a wave
of the most sublime bliss crashed into her and carried her. She’d thought she
could get no more tense, but in that she was mistaken. As he licked and sucked
and nuzzled over her, she moaned in panting breaths with the sensation.

Dimly she knew her body strained to reach some sort of
climax, some height of rapture she’d never yet achieved. It seemed as though
something held her back, that there was a last barrier she couldn’t surmount.
Though he sucked and rubbed her until she began to get sore, it didn’t turn
loose. She finally had to still Philip with a hand on his head when she could
take no more.

She understood now that there was another level to reach. It
disappointed him that he’d been unable to take her there as yet.

When he started to rise to get her clothes, she reached out
and wrapped a hand around his wrist. Because he was only partly up and off
balance, she was able to jerk him back and bring him down on the bed beside
her.

“Nay, my lord,” she said, grinning at him. “We’re not done
yet. You’ve had your taste of me. I’d do likewise for you.”

His expression of joyous astonishment went straight to her
heart and lit a warm flame in it.

“Mary,” he said, sound hesitant and almost a little shy. “Be
you sure of this?”

“Aye.”

He helped her remove his clothes, piece by piece, and
tolerated her exploration of his body as each removal revealed new expanses of
flesh. When he was completely bare, he lay back and let her have her way with
him.

She explored his nipples, first with her fingers, then with
his tongue. He tasted of labor and manhood. She enjoyed licking over the hard,
masculine nubs, watching his face tense up, his eyes close and his body jump as
she returned the heated kisses he pressed on her.

With her tongue, she traced lazy circles around his chest
muscles, then slid down along his flat abdomen. She poked into the recess of
his belly button and stroked her finger into the curls of dark hair cushioning
the engorged organ that rested there.

It took a bit of working up of nerve to finally move her
mouth close to his male shaft and rest her lips on it about half way down its
length. He jumped and groaned at the touch. She stuck her tongue out and
carefully tasted the flesh. Salt and skin and essence of Philip made a sharp,
pleasing combination.

He sucked in a harsh breath when she slid her mouth down to
the root, where the column of flesh met the softer balls, then back up. On the
back of the tip she found a ridge and dip, and when she licked across it, he
shouted so loudly she looked up to be sure she hadn’t hurt him. He smiled at
her.

“You’ve a clever tongue,” he said. “And it draws me nigh
unto madness.”

“A joyful madness, I trust.”

“De—delightful.”

He bucked when she moved her lips up to the head of his cock
and reached out to touch it with the very tip of her tongue.

After a couple of hard breaths, he said, “A screaming
madness if you stay this course.”

He was beginning to thrust up toward her. Mary could see he
was nearing the point of exploding. She moved until she lay on top of him and
cradled his cock against her chest. He stared at her in astonishment that grew
when she pressed the hard shaft into the cleft of her breasts and put a hand
under to nestle it as close as possible. Moistened by the efforts of her mouth
it slid easily up and down the tunnel between her breasts. He thrust hard in
that soft, surrounding cushion, once, twice, three times, and then his seed
spurted forth, landing on his chest.

When they were both breathing evenly again, he drew her down
next to him and held her against him.

“This even was planned to be about your pleasure not mine,”
he said, sounding apologetic.

“But you did pleasure me,” she said. “All I could tolerate.”

He nodded and held her close.

Mary took comfort in hearing the sound of his heart thumping
under her ear and the feel of his skin against hers.

* * * * *

The days settled back into a routine after the departure of
the Highwaiths. With winter imminent, there was much to do in preparation. The
last of the harvested fruits and vegetables had to be processed and stored,
various parts of the manor sealed up to prevent drafts, wood gathered, wool
blankets aired and distributed, and extra hay loaded into storage for the
livestock. Mary was kept busy supervising those preparations while Philip
worked with the groups trying to get as many repairs done as possible before
winter weather set in.

At dinner, she continued to stare down the table in either
direction and along the others, searching for a knife missing its tip. Any
other time when a man would bring out a blade, she’d strain for a look. But she
caught no sight of it.

A week after the Highwaiths’ departure, they had the first
snowfall of the season, an all-day storm that left a white blanket three inches
high on the ground. Following the manor’s tradition, Mary allowed anyone who
could be spared or who’d already completed their duties to have the day free to
enjoy the weather. She particularly urged the older servants to pick up extra
work if needed to allow the youngsters the rare opportunity to play in the
snow.

It didn’t occur to her until much later that Philip might
not be pleased with her making that decision and acting on it without
consulting him.

She was chagrined when he asked her about it later and she
realized she should have discussed it with him first. She went to the office to
consult with him about the Steward’s request that they acquire more ale, and
found him studying diagrams of the manor and the surrounding lands with his
friends, Thomas, Peter and Derwyn.

He looked up at her, and she knew from his expression, he
wasn’t happy. The other men turned her way as well. Their cautious, guarded
looks told her he must have mentioned something to them, and they knew there
was a problem.

At his nod, the three men said they’d discuss it more with
him later and left the room. Sir Thomas’s expression, in particular, was
troubled. He met her eyes briefly as he passed her. She read either anger or
warning in his gaze.

When they’d departed, Philip drew a deep breath and stood
up. “I’m told you gave orders that most of the younger workers should have free
time today,” he said.

Mary nodded. “Aye. ‘Tis a tradition at the manor to
celebrate the first snowfall.”

“And one I heartily approve. But, did you not think I should
have any part in deciding that or in announcing it?”

“I didn’t think on it, my lord, or I would have agreed you
should.”

“Aye, indeed. Clearly you didn’t give the matter sufficient
thought. Sir Thomas was working with several youngsters who were supposed to
report to him to help move a beam for the gate. He is not pleased that his
assistants are out romping in the snow rather than moving wood. I am concerned
that some other planned tasks will not be completed. But more than that…” He
paused and his expression grew strained and sad.

“Mary, what am I to think?” He raised his hands and clasped
them together tightly. She heard confusion and possibly even pain in his voice.
“You think me fit to make decisions about disciplining errant villains, and yet
when it comes time to do a thing more pleasant for all, I’m not consulted. Your
actions today were at cross-purposes to mine, and it seems to concern you not
that it shows me poorly before my own men and your people.”

Mary bit her lip. “It wasn’t intended to hurt or damage your
standing, my lord. ‘Twas merely that I forgot.”

The way he looked at her cut to her heart.

“Aye. You forgot because it is your custom to give all
orders for the manor. Yet we have discussed before that I must be seen as a
strong lord here. The risks are great if it be not clearly evident I control
this manor and all in it. But Mary, do you truly acknowledge me as lord of this
manor, and your lord as well? I think perhaps you’re not as sure of that in
your mind as you would have me believe.”

She looked at her hands to hide her surprise. Not so much at
his words as at the realization there was truth and insight in what he said.
Were she completely honest with herself, she would have to admit a part of her
did consider herself not just the lady of the manor, but the only true ruler of
the place. It was a truth she had barely realized before and feared to admit to
him.

It was wrong. The king had granted the manor to him. She
might not deem it just, but it was the reality. He’d been kinder to her, more
willing to let her remain and act the role of lady, more accepting of her than
she’d had any right to expect.

And yet, some part of her still fought against acknowledging
him as her lord.

“Philip… My lord, you’re right. I do have difficulty in admitting
that someone else should rule this manor. Yet do I know ‘tis so. I do truly
admit you as my lord, and in truth, I admire you greatly in the role. I owe you
more duty than I’ve granted, and that I do most truly regret. I beg your
assistance in teaching me to recall the duty I owe you.”

He looked troubled. “Do you truly wish it, Mary?”

She watched his face and read as much in his expression as
she heard in the words. Promises made earlier about to be kept. Her heart
thumped faster as she considered. But the decision wasn’t that hard. Telling
him about it was.

“Aye,” she said, drawing a deep breath to get the words out.
“I do.”

He watched her silently for a moment. Gathering tears stung
her eyes and began to spill over before he said, “Well enough. Come with me.”

She followed him out of the office and down various hallways
to his solar. When they were inside his quarters, with the door shut behind
them, he stopped and looked at her again. “Mary, I’d as soon not have to do
this, but I fear—”

“Nay, my lord. Do what is necessary. And forthwith, if you
please, e’er I lose what little nerve for it I have.”

Philip nodded and led her to a tall-backed chair pushed
against the far wall. “Kneel on the seat, facing the wall,” he directed, “and
hold tight to the back.” There was a cushion on the seat. He moved her skirts
out of the way as she knelt, then took them in a bunch and tucked them into the
back of the neckline, leaving her bare from mid-back down. She shivered with a
chill that was more fear than cold air.

A few small clicks and the rustle of clothes told her he
removed his sword belt, then a hiss sounded as slid the sword sheath off it.
She wrapped her hands around the knobby tops of the back of the chair and clung
hard.

When the first slap of the belt smacked against her bottom,
she gasped and dug her fingers into the wood. It smarted enough to wrest a
small moan from her. That wouldn’t do. She must bear it with more courage.

A whish of rushing air preceded the second blow. Pain washed
from the site of contact all along her nerves. She tried to accept the pain,
embrace it, even welcome it. She must learn from it. Learn to remember she was
no longer forced to rely only on herself, that all her people no longer had
just her to protect and lead them.

The belt cracked again, printing a ribbon of fire across her
derriere, adding to the growing, spreading sting of the previous lashes. She
must accept that Philip was the lord here, her lord. In truth, there was little
hardship to herself or anyone else in that, so why did she fight it?

The next smack was lower down, at the spot where her bottom
and legs met. The flesh there was more tender, and the blow stung with the fire
of a large bunch of nettles. She struggled to hold back a sob. Philip had given
her much: a chance at a secure life, his protection, and the opportunity to be
lady of the manor, his wife, the mother of his children. He was even slowly
erasing the memory of Sir Benwyck’s brutality, replacing the nightmares with
the pleasure he taught her.