Medieval 01 - Untamed

looked into the Glendruid eyes that were watching him with barely concealed anxiety. He suspected he wasn’t being told the whole truth, and he knew there was no way to be certain.
    â€œI’ll tell no one except Simon,” Dominic said finally, “and he already knows that you took the bottle to your rooms.”
    â€œSee that he tells no one.”
    Dominic nodded. Then he smiled rather darkly.
    â€œThat is two boons you owe me, wife.”
    Meg’s cheeks colored at the combination of sensuality and triumph in Dominic’s smile.
    â€œAye.”
    Nervously, Meg turned to tend the fire. Dominic watched as she bent to the hearth to stir up the embers. The more he was with his wife, the more impatient he became for her monthly flux to come and go so that he could plant the seeds of dynasty within her soft body. The grace of her movements aroused him to the point of pain.
    And the quick skill of her hands told him that tending the fire was a task she performed often.
    â€œEadith barely earns her keep,” he said in a disgusted voice.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYour handmaiden seems to spend little time doing her tasks.”
    â€œâ€™Tis easier to do some things than to send word for one of the servants. In any case, Eadith wouldn’t have been a handmaiden if her father or husband had lived. She would have been a lady with a handmaiden of her own. I spare her pride where it is possible.”
    â€œWhat happened to her family’s lands?” Dominic asked.
    â€œThe same thing that happened to all of England—William or his sons took the land and divided it among their Norman knights.”
    Dominic listened carefully, but discovered none of the hatred he had sensed in Eadith’s voice when she talked of the Normans—a hatred more than a few of Blackthorne Keep’s servants bore despite their love of Meg. Nor did Dominic hear the refusal to accept his position that had been obvious in Duncan’s voice. Meg was as matter-of-fact as though she were describing the number of sheep in a fold. She didn’t even look up from her rummaging in the beaten brass container that held wood for the fire.
    â€œDon’t you hate the Normans as many of the keep’s folk do?” Dominic asked curiously.
    â€œSome of them are brutal, bloodthirsty, and cruel,” Meg said bluntly as she chose a length of oak.
    â€œYou could say that of men from Scotland, Normandy, or the Holy Land,” Dominic pointed out.
    â€œAye,” Meg agreed, watching broodingly as tiny flames sank their teeth into the wood she had just laid in the hearth. “Cruelty knows no clan boundaries.”
    Dominic went to the bed and picked up the long golden chains with their sweetly chiming bells. Meg turned toward him, charmed by the musical sounds.
    â€œWhat is that?” she asked.
    â€œA wedding gift for my bride.”
    Meg stood and came to him, called by the golden voices of the bells.
    â€œTruly?” she asked, surprised.
    â€œWill you wear them, or must I require it of you as one of my boons?”
    â€œWhatever do you mean? They’re beautiful. Of course I’ll wear them.”
    â€œBut you didn’t wear the brooch I gave you,” he pointed out.
    â€œGlendruid maids wear only silver before they are married.”
    Pointedly, Dominic looked at Meg’s long tunic. It was barren of any decoration.
    â€œYou are married now.”
    Meg unlaced enough of the outer tunic to show that the brooch was fastened to her inner tunic, below the hollow of her throat.
    â€œAh,” Dominic said. “I see.”
    And he did. What he saw was the proud rise of Meg’s breasts and the delicate hollow of her throat.
    â€œI envy my gift,” he said.
    Puzzled, Meg looked at the stranger who was also her husband. “Envy, lord—er, Dominic. How so?”
    â€œIt is free to lie between your breasts.”
    Red bloomed along Meg’s cheekbones. Rather clumsily she fastened her tunic again.
    Dominic was watching, smiling in a way that made her breath catch. She cleared her throat and pointed to the long chains he held.
    â€œHow shall I wear those?” Meg asked.
    â€œI’ll show you.”
    With a muscular grace that pleased Meg, Dominicsat on his heels in front of her.
    â€œPut your foot on my thigh,” he said.
    Hesitantly, Meg obeyed. Beneath her tunic, warm, strong fingers closed gently around her ankle. She made a startled