Medieval 01 - Untamed

days!”
    Like a new falcon in a mews, Meg had been kept alone in a twilight room. Unlike a falcon, she had a hearth fire to relieve the gloom and warm thestone walls. She could also pace, a comfort denied the hunting birds.
    The lord of Blackthorne Keep was Meg’s only contact with the world beyond her quarters. Upon his orders, no one came to her rooms, no one spoke to her through the door, no one brought either food or drink: only Dominic kept her company.
    He was with her often throughout the day, coming in without announcement, bringing a flower freshly bloomed or a smooth river pebble to add to her collection. He stayed for a time to talk about his peregrine’s rapid progress, the state of the fields, the refurbishing of the armory, the litter of kittens that looked just like Black Tom, and the progress of Meg’s gardens.
    If one of Dominic’s visits occurred when it was time to eat, he held Meg and fed her with a patience that never varied no matter how she chaffed at confinement. When it was time to sleep, they shared her canopied bed in an intimacy that was unsettling to her, but had the unexpected benefit of keeping her warm.
    And when it was time to bathe…
    Meg shivered, remembering Dominic leaning against the doorway, watching her with glittering silver eyes as she washed herself in a ritual that was as old as her first initiation into Glendruid ways. Yet for all the smoky sensuality of her husband’s gaze, for all his obvious potency when they slept in the same bed, his self-discipline never varied. He touched her only to feed her, to give her drink, to warm her in the cold of the night.
    For the first time in her life, Meg wished she had a leman’s skills. Then she would tempt her husband so greatly that his formidable self-control would burn up like dry straw in the torch of his passion. He would take her before she bled, and in doing sofind out how baseless his distrust had been.
    If she had a leman’s skills…but she did not. She had only the certainty that each day of her captivity made the people of the keep more resentful of their new Norman lord. When Harry had spoken to her the morning after her wedding, he had spoken for all of Blackthorne’s people.
    If the lord hurts you we’ll nae stand for it…. Many accidents can befall a man while hunting. I promise you .
    Fear coursed through Meg as she remembered Harry’s words. Such an act would be a catastrophe for the keep. Simon already distrusted Blackthorne’s affection for Duncan of Maxwell. If Dominic were hurt by rebellious peasants, Simon’s vengeance would be more swift and savage than any his brother might devise.
    Bells chimed as Meg paced her living quarters wearing golden jesses, worrying about the future of her people. Finally sounds from the bailey below distracted her, men’s voices raised in exuberant cries. Even through the closed shutters the clash and clang of sword on shield was clear.
    Meg went to the window. She had discovered she could open the shutters a bare crack without it being visible from below. The opening wasn’t large enough to admit sunlight, but she could put her eye to the slit and watch the bailey below.
    Under Dominic’s keen supervision, the knights were keeping their battle skills honed. Hauberk and helm, chausses and chain mail gauntlets protected the men while they hacked and chopped with weapons that had more weight than a battle sword and no edge to speak of.
    That didn’t mean the swords weren’t dangerous. In the hands of a strong knight, even a blunt weapon could badly wound a careless, unskilled, or unlucky opponent.
    Eadith poured ale and called out encouragement to her favorites. The black-eyed Marie moved among the fighters, serving frothing mugs of ale. Even from the height of Meg’s rooms, the swing and sway of the Norman woman’s hips was obvious.
    With eyes like green ice, Meg watched the leman approach Dominic. She stood so close to him there was no daylight between, and tilted her face up as though to a god.
    When Dominic laughed at something the leman said, Meg’s hands became fists. All that prevented her from opening the shutters and hurling the contents of the chamber pot at Marie’s head was the certainty that Dominic hadn’t bedded his leman recently. There had been no opportunity; when he wasn’t tending to the keep’s affairs, he was with his wife.
    If she was captive to