BindingPassion (9 page)

Mary sat beside him, admiring the graceful lines of his
long, lean body. He was so much more attractive in looks that Benwyck ever had
been, a reflection of a more honorable and noble nature. She reached out a
hesitant hand and put it on his chest.

He felt her reluctance. “Touch where you will, whenever it
pleases you,” he invited.

“I won’t hurt you?”

“Avoid my arm, if you please. Save that, I’m yours. I’ll
tell you if anything you do causes pain,” he said. “But I doubt very much you
will.”

She ran her hands over the strong muscles of his shoulders,
across his throat, and along the muscles of his chest. He was hard and sleek at
the same time. She stroked along his sides, then moved her fingers to the brown
masculine nipples nearly buried in dark curly hair. He let out a small hiss
when she touched them.

He noticed her worried frown and said, “My reaction was
pleasure rather than pain. At times they can look and sound much the same. But
trust me to tell you if I can’t bear something you do.”

She nodded and let her fingers investigate his nipples a bit
more. They beaded up at her touch, just as her own were wont to do, though his
sat on a pillow of hard muscle rather than the soft mounds of breast. He sucked
in a sharp breath and closed his eyes briefly.

His skin was warm and giving, the hair on his chest lending
an interestingly rough texture. She ran her hand down his flat stomach, feeling
the fluttering of muscle in response to her touch. Avoiding a red, swollen spot
on his side that would likely show a bruise in a few hours, she stopped at the
indent of his navel, investigating its recesses with a finger.

Mary glanced at his face.

He opened his eyes to smile at her. “Your touch is the
sweetest I’ve ever known,” he told her.

She drew a deep breath and moved her hand lower yet but
skirted the heavy, full length of his cock, tracing a path along his hip to his
thigh. Thick, strong muscle padded his upper legs. He groaned lightly as she
trailed her fingers along his thigh and moved his legs apart just enough to
give her a view of the hairy, pink balls beneath his cock.

Very carefully, Mary reached up to touch them. Philip drew a
long, gasping breath. She felt around the sacs, brushing the tips of her
fingers along their curving surfaces, then cupping them in her hand. She
squeezed gently and he moaned deep in his throat.

“That feels good to you?” she asked.

“Better than you can imagine,” he said through clenched
teeth.

When she patted and rubbed them again he twitched, leg
muscles jumping and stomach tightening.

“Oh, Mary,” he sighed. “Your touch is heaven.” He pulled her
face down to him for a long, throbbing kiss.

Breathless and almost shaking with the heady excitement of
touching and exploring him, she leaned back and pressed her fingertips along
his cock. His body bucked, back arching and face tightening. She waited until
she was sure it was pleasure and not pain she was seeing, then ran her hand up
along the shaft until she reached the tip. Philip took several harsh breaths.

His cock jumped in her hand as she touched the tip. It felt
so marvelously soft and smooth, like finest silk. He groaned. She ran her
fingers around the edge and along the groove.

She cupped one hand around his balls, brushing at them and
squeezing carefully, while the fingers of the other hand ringed his cock and
slid up and down along it. His balls felt heavy and full in her palms,
rough-textured yet giving.

“Mary,” he gasped. “It’s good. Too good. I can’t
contain…much longer.”

Muscles all along his body tensed to rock hardness. His cock
throbbed in her grasp and she pumped her hand along it even faster. Of a
sudden, he let out a long, loud moan, and a viscous white fluid spurted from
the tip of his cock, spreading in a small puddle across his belly.

She held his pulsing cock, waiting until his breathing began
to return to a normal rhythm, then got up and went to get the wash rag she’d
left beside the tub. She sponged the stickiness off his belly and her hands.

“Thank you,” she breathed

“Again I say it was my pleasure,” he said. He turned onto
his side, reached for her, and pulled her down next to him on the bed. “Lay
with me a while,” he asked, holding her against his body. To her surprise, they
both fell asleep for a while, waking only when a servant knocked on the door,
bearing their dinner.

* * * * *

Following the meal, Mary went down to check on William’s
condition. She found the boy asleep, swathed in bandages, with another servant
watching out for him. The man knew little of the boy’s condition. He’d been
told William would likely sleep for a while longer.

Mary went to the suite of rooms Brianne shared with her
husband in the south wing of the manor and knocked at the door. Brianne herself
answered the knock and appeared unsurprised to see Mary. “You want to know
about William,” Brianne guessed. “He’ll do well enough, but it will be a while.
The bone was displaced in his arm, and I had to set it. His collarbone is
cracked as well, but I’ve had to immobilize the arm in any case, so there was
naught to do for that save bandage it tightly. He’s young and healthy. He’ll
not be taking sword practice for several months, but with proper care he’ll
heal and have full use of the arm. I gave him some tincture of poppy before I
set the arm. He’ll sleep until morning.”

“My thanks,” Mary told her. “Lord Philip was concerned about
him. I’ll pass that on.”

“How fares his lordship?” Brianne asked. “It appeared he had
some bumps that will be stiff and discolored by morning, but I judged nothing
was broken.”

“He’s well enough,” Mary answered. “He was resting when I
left him. The bath did seem to ease his soreness.” Her efforts might have
helped as well, but she wasn’t going to share that with Brianne.

She thanked the woman and returned to his lordship’s
quarters just long enough to deliver the news concerning William. Philip was
sleepy, however, so she didn’t linger with him.

The next morning she rose early and went out to the north
tower. Overnight the weather had turned cooler and the air smelled like rain
coming. She walked past the area on the east wall where the stone had fallen.
Several irregular pieces, ranging in size from the width of her hand to one
that was over a foot square, sat among a virtual snowfall of shards and powder.
She looked up. The stone could easily have come straight down from the tower,
but there was no obvious place it might have come loose from.

She proceeded to the tower itself and went around to the
door into it. There was one below on the ground level as well, but the climb to
the top was easier this way. She’d just gone in and was on the bottom step,
when a voice stopped her.

“Are you looking for something, my lady?” Sir Thomas asked.

Mary shrieked and nearly dropped the piece of bread she’d
been nibbling on. She whirled to face the source of the voice.

“Sir Thomas,” she breathed, holding a hand to her chest to
still the furious pounding of her heart. “I did not expect to meet anyone here.
At this time of day in particular.”

“Nor did I,” he answered. He regarded her with cool,
suspicious eyes.

Watching him, Mary was struck again by what a handsome man
he would be were his expression not so bleak. With his straight, light brown
hair, regular features and sensual mouth, he would be extraordinarily appealing
if one didn’t see the cold harshness of his gray eyes.

“What brings you here on such a chill morning?” she asked.

“Curiosity,” he answered, “But I might ask the same of you.”

“And you’d receive the same answer.”

Mary studied the steps leading up to the tower’s roof. Thick
dust had gathered all over. With limited manpower to guard the manor, she’d had
no one stationed on this tower to look out for as long as she’d ruled the
place.

There were smudges in the dust now, irregular patches on
each step, as though someone had taken a brush and wiped the dust off in
vaguely circular motions.

“Are you going up, my lady?” he asked.

“Aye, Sir Thomas. And yourself? Or have you just come down?”

“Nay, lady. I fancied a walk on the tower roof this
morning.”

She turned to stare at him again. Suspicion and harshness
colored his words. “Is there something specific you wish to see?”

“Perhaps,” he admitted. He nodded toward the stairs. “After you,
then, my lady.”

She mounted the curving stairs of the tower as swiftly as
she could. Sir Thomas stayed with her, no more than a couple of steps behind.
The exertion had her breathing hard by the time they came to the top. Sir
Thomas brushed by her and pushed up the trap door that let out onto the roof of
the tower, then waited for her to precede him. The breeze struck her as she
emerged, blowing her clothes around until she pulled her cloak closer around
her body. She moved straight to the side where the stone must have fallen from.

A gap in the top of the parapet marked the place the stone
had lately occupied. This size of it stunned and dismayed her. That no one had
been killed was more miracle than anything else.

Sir Thomas stood beside her as she went over to it and
looked closely at the edges of the gap. She ran her fingers along the rough
sides, feeling the ridges of the surface, then feeling…small streaks in the
remaining mortar, slightly flattened areas. She removed her fingers and looked
more closely. Surely those were the marks of a knife jammed into the mortar?

Aware of Sir Thomas’s eyes on her, she moved around the edge
of the tower, testing the permanence of the stone in the rest of the edge. None
rocked or slipped in the least when she pushed at them. As she approached the
gap again, she spied something bright on the floor of the tower where it
intersected with the wall. Mary bent down and retrieved a bright bit of metal.
Not wanting to examine it too closely in Sir Thomas’s presence, she held it
tightly in her fist. She looked at him as she stood and met his gray eyes. His
glance flicked to his fist and she waited for him to ask about it. He didn’t.

Mary sighed, wondering what to do about her suspicions. She
could point at no specific individual, save Sir Thomas himself. But he’d been
with Philip when the stone had come down, so surely he couldn’t be responsible.
Unless he’d worked with someone else, had arranged for someone to be up here to
push the stone while he made sure Philip was in its path. It had so nearly
succeeded.

She shivered with a combination of chill from the wind and
belated terror. “I believe I’m ready to go back in,” she told Sir Thomas. He
nodded and followed her, closing the door behind them. Bemused and distracted
by what she’d found, she went down the tower steps and returned to the main
part of the manor. At some point as she walked to her solar, she lost Sir
Thomas. She had no idea when he’d stopped following her or where he’d gone.

Once in her quarters, with the door shut behind, she opened
her fist to consider the thing she’d found. The triangular piece of steel had
been polished and two edges honed sharp and tapering to a wicked point. The
other side of the triangle was rough and jagged. It could be almost nothing but
the broken-off point of a knife or dagger, probably snapped in the effort to
lever the stone far enough up and out to let it be pushed over the edge.

She would have to keep watch on the various men when they
used their knives.

Philip watched his friend Thomas pace back and forth across
the office floor in his agitation.

“She went up there for a reason,” Thomas said. “Looking for
something. And she found it. I know not what it was. She didn’t wish me to see
it. But she picked up something and hid it in her hand.”

Thomas stopped a moment and turned to look at him. “Philip,
that stone didn’t fall on its own. I’d wager my last crown on it. It had help.”

“Do you propose to me that Lady Mary went up there and
pushed the stone over on me?” Philip asked.

Thomas winced at his doubt. “Nay, my lord, she could not
have done it herself. The stone was no small weight. But she commands the
loyalty of nearly everyone in this household. She could have had one of her own
men do it. And did he lose something up there, she would go back to retrieve
it.”

Philip shook his head. “Nay, I cannot credit it. What reason
would she have?”

“She ruled this manor herself before you arrived. She’d do
so again with you gone.”

Philip wasn’t ready to share with even as good a friend as
Thomas why he believed Mary loved him and wouldn’t endanger his health or
safety. “Did some such thing happen, word would get around in any case,” Philip
said. “I’ve learned how difficult it is to keep secrets in such a manor as
this.”

Thomas drew a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I wish
I could convince you, my lord, but failing that, at least lend me your promise
you’ll take care and be ever vigilant.”

His mood lightened and he clapped Thomas on the shoulder.
“On that you can depend,” he promised.

When Sir Thomas departed to oversee work on the walls, which
Philip had insisted continue for as long as the weather held, Philip tried a
short workout with sword and shield. His left arm featured a large bruise that
covered most of the skin between his shoulder and elbow, with another smaller
one on his forearm. It was stiff and sore, so he eschewed using the shield,
relying more on his legs than his arms to dodge a young opponent.

Later on Philip dropped by William’s quarters to see how the
boy fared. He found the young man awake but in some pain that he tried not to
show. Philip stayed with him for a while, talking to him. He asked about the
accident and what William remembered. All the boy knew was that everything
seemed normal one moment, then in the next moment Philip was pushing him out of
the way of something falling from the sky.

“No one has yet told me,” William asked, almost reluctantly.
“Will my arm heal? Will I be able to use a sword again, and ride and fight?”

“Judging by what Mistress Brianne said yesterday, it seems
you’re likely to heal with no ill effects from the injury. ‘Twill be a while,
probably not until spring, but you’ll be back to polishing my armor and oiling
my saddle before you’re ready. So enjoy the rest for the winter.”

“I’ll try, my lord,” the boy promised.

The next day Philip received a note from the Countess of
Highwaith accepting his invitation for them to come for a visit prior to the
winter holiday. Rosalind indicated she and the earl would arrive in a week’s
time for a visit of a few days. Philip immediately sent for Mary to tell her
about the impending visit.

“Jeoffrey is my oldest and closest friend as well as being
my liege lord,” Philip explained to her. “He and I grew up together, squired
together, and served our early knighthood together. When he inherited the
family estate of Blaisdell I went with him as his chief man-at-arms. He led the
revolt against Sir William, and the king awarded him Highwaith in gratitude. He
wed Lady Rosalind, the daughter of the former earl, this past summer, but their
story wasn’t as simple as that suggests. I think you’ll like Rosalind. She’s
about your years, and she’s had no easy road the past few years herself.”

“I’ll look to preparations for their arrival. I would place
them in the royal chamber. What think you, my lord?” Mary said.

“The royal chamber will serve well enough. Despite their
grand title, the earl and countess are not so very formal, but still I should
like to entertain them well. I owe them much and would repay some in hospitality.
Think you we could get that group of minstrels back?”

“I’ll put out inquiries. They may have advanced too far on
the road, however. Or retreated to their winter quarters. I fear we’re none too
far from the first snows.”

“Aye. Do what you may. But I’d like to serve only the best
I’m able to them.”

“Of course,” Mary said. “I’ll consult with cook on menus and
we’ll bring them to you for your approval.”

He smiled at her. “My great thanks, Lady Mary, and I know I
can rely on you. Oh, and Mary,” he added. “‘Twould please me if you’d arrange
for a few new gowns for yourself. If you could find fabric to match the
necklace from your mother, that would be splendid.”

Her expression brightened, making her green eyes sparkle,
and a tide of color rose in her cheeks. He wasn’t sure if the blush was from
embarrassment that he’d noticed the somewhat worn condition of her clothes or
pleasure at the idea of new things.

“I’ll see it done, my lord,” she answered.

For the next few days, the manor fairly hummed with activity.
Excitement ran high once word got around that they’d be hosting such exalted
visitors. The royal quarters, so called because the king had once spent a night
there while passing through the region, were opened and aired, beds were
turned, linens replaced, hearths swept, chimneys checked, and furniture
polished in preparation.

Additional chambers had to be readied for the men-at-arms
and servants who accompanied the earl and countess as well. Mary admitted she
couldn’t remember a time when so many of the manor’s rooms had been in use at
once. The linen supply was stretched to its fullest, but she thought it would
suffice.

Menus were prepared and brought to him for approval. The
steward grew frantic in his search for the best wines, ales, meats, and other
stuffs to feed their guests.

In the midst of the chaos, Mary sought him out to resolve a
problem. She had two young men in tow, both somewhat disheveled, bruised, and
scraped, when she found him consulting with a blacksmith he’d hired to do some
work on their arms and armor. Philip finished up with the man and then invited
the three of them to join him in his office.

Mary explained the head groom had caught the two fighting in
the barn. By the time he stopped it, the altercation had already caused some damage
to a pair of stalls and had spooked several of the horses. The two boys, both
in their early to mid-teens, had a history of squabbling and had come to blows
several times before. They’d been warned of dire consequences should they
continue to engage in fisticuffs where they might cause harm and while they
were supposed to be about their duties.

Philip nodded when she finished her explanation and asked
Mary to step outside the room for a moment. He went with her and shut the door,
leaving the two downcast young brawlers inside.

“Have they been punished for this before?” he asked her once
they were alone in the corridor.

“Aye. And they’ve been warned several times, as well. I do
believe the last time they fought Master Forlin, the head groom, gave them each
a couple of strokes with a strap and insisted they repair the damage they did.”

“They’ll certainly do that again,” Philip said. He paused
and sighed. “This is the hardest part of being a lord. I know how much Jeoffrey
has struggled with it. I think he is perhaps too demanding, but still he makes
a great effort to be fair and just.”

In truth, he knew what needed to be done, but he was
reluctant to do it. Mary watched him with a level, serious gaze. He’d demanded
she recognize his authority in these issues. He had an obligation to do the job
properly.

He drew a deep breath. “Would you please fetch Master Forlin
and ask him to bring the heaviest strap he has?” He let the breath out slowly
and shook his head. “It’s not in my nature to be harsh with people, but in this
case…”

“They’ve had more than ample warning,” she agreed. She
turned and left.

As she was leaving, he had another thought, but he’d tell
her about it later.

He sucked in another hard breath and went back into the
room. The two young men sat on the chairs pushed against the wall, and they
stared at him with similar expressions, a blend of fear and resentment, as he
entered. He sat behind his desk and stared back.

“I understand you’ve been warned about fighting in the barn
while you should be working. In fact, you’ve been chastised for it on a
previous occasion, so you cannot claim ignorance that what you were doing was
wrong. Have you anything to say for yourselves?”

They looked at each other with so much anger and resentment,
Philip wasn’t surprised when their argument, which appeared to be over the
attentions of a girl, broke out in hot words and soon descended to blows.

“Stop that right now,” he said. Though he didn’t allow it to
show, even he was surprised at how much force and authority he managed to put
into the words. They both paused and looked at him.

“You’re in a deal of trouble already,” he told them.

Both young men stared at him. Fear began to replace the
anger on their faces. “My lord,” the darker, taller boy said, “I apologize for
my actions. I was wrong and I’ll help to repair any damage done.”

“Good,” Philip said, as the other one offered his own
admission. “You will both certainly make good your harm to the barn. After
you’ve had your punishment.”

A knock sounded at the door. Philip got up and went to it,
had a quick, whispered conversation with Master Forlin, and then nodded for him
to enter the room. The man held a heavy leather strap some two inches wide and
three feet long.

“Now,” he said to the miscreants. “You each have a choice.
You may take a dozen strokes of Master Forlin’s strap on your bare arse, or two
dozen over clothes.”

One of them drew in a sharp breath that sounded suspiciously
like a sob.

“Which of you is the older?” Philip asked.

“I am, my lord.” The dark-haired boy claimed that honor with
no pride or joy in it.

“Your name?”

“Warin, my lord.”

“Very good, Warin,” Philip answered. “You will be first.
What is your choice?”

Warin just stared at him for a moment, then swallowed hard
and said, “I’d have it over as soon as may be,” he said. “I’ll take it bare.”

Philip nodded his acceptance of the decision, turned to
Master Forlin, and nodded to him. The head groom took over directing the boy in
removing clothes and getting in position over the back of a chair, hands
gripping the edge of the seat. The man then delivered a sound and painful
strapping, holding the length of leather at one end and allowing the rest to
swing free until it connected with the vulnerable flesh, emitting a startling
crack.

The young man took the first half dozen strokes without a
sound beyond several sharp, hissing breaths, though he jumped each time the
strap landed. After eight, his buttocks looked very red and sore, with thick
welts beginning to span the surface. On the last few strokes, Warin’s control
began to slip. He moaned aloud on the tenth, took the eleventh in silence, and
shouted in agony as the last one came down with greater force than any of the
previous.

Master Forlin ordered him to stand and re-dress, and all
waited in silence while he did so. Because he seemed a bit dazed, Philip helped
him to a chair, though the boy chose to sprawl on his side across two, rather
than sit.

The other boy was John and after watching his nemesis
suffer, he decided to take more strokes over his clothes.

Master Forlin ordered him into the same position and
delivered another sound strapping. From the way John jumped and the anguished
sounds he let out after ten strokes, Philip decided it couldn’t be hurting much
less than if he’d taken it bare. Nonetheless he bore it with as much courage as
Warin had shown, emitting nothing more than a groan or quickly cut off squeal
until the last couple of strokes drove him beyond control.

When it was over, Philip thanked Master Forlin and dismissed
him, then faced the two red-faced young men.

“I regret I had to do that,” he said to them. “And I hope it
will never again be necessary to repeat the lesson with either of you. I’ll
have you go now and make those repairs you promised.” He stopped and glanced at
each one. Both stood straight, watching him. “But first, since you two seem so
eager to fight, I have an offer for you.”

They waited, unmoving.

“We’re in need of trained men at arms. Should another lord
attempt to take the manor we’ve too few fighting men to defend it. Once the
damage is repaired, should you choose, I’d have you report to Sir Peter for
training. Perhaps it will make better use of your energy and strength than
fisticuffs with each other.”

The two stared at each other as though wondering if he was
making a joke at their expense.

“My lord,” Warin said, “You’d allow us to train for battle?”

“I believe that’s what I was offering.”

“Aye, I’d like to do so,” the young man answered. “But will
Sir Peter take us on, after he knows about…?”

“He need not know about it,” Philip answered. “None here
need know if you set the damage to rights and do not wish to tell of it. Lady
Mary and Master Forlin will speak about it to no one, nor will I unless
something else you do makes it necessary.”

Their expressions changed from sullen to surprise to
excitement.

“I should like to be trained for battle as well,” John
answered.

“If you think you can finish your repairs today, I’ll let
Sir Peter know you’ll be joining him in the morning.”

He dismissed the two. Both made their exit from the room
walking stiffly, rubbing at sore bottoms. Philip sat for a while, wondering
what, if anything, he might have done differently.