Medieval 01 - Untamed

cold.
    â€œLie down,” Dominic said, pushing Meg back onto the bed as he spoke. “You’ll take a chill.”
    He got up and fed the fire with a few quick motions that spoke eloquently of returning health. When he came back to bed, he pulled Meg close but made no move to pull the draperies around the bed once more. He suspected that light was more important to his wife right now than warmth.
    Slowly Meg’s arms stole around Dominic. Her breath came out in a long, soundless sigh against his chest.
    â€œCan you tell me now?” Dominic asked.
    At first he thought she would refuse to speak. Then her breath came out in another noiseless rush of warmth.
    â€œJust a dream,” Meg said.
    â€œDo you dream like that often?”
    â€œNo.”
    Dominic waited.
    Meg said no more.
    â€œAre you afraid of me?” he asked after a moment. “Of how I might punish you?”
    â€œNo,” she whispered. “Though I should be.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou are so much stronger than I am.”
    He made a sound halfway between harsh laughter and disbelief. “Am I? Is that why I find myself unable to get the most simple form of obedience from you?”
    â€œBut—” Meg began.
    The pressure of Dominic’s fingers on her lips cut off her protest.
    â€œTell me,” Dominic said in a low voice. “Why are you afraid?”
    â€œSometimes—sometimes I dream,” Meg said in a rush.
    â€œMost people do.”
    â€œNot—like this. There is danger. I know it.”
    â€œNight fears are common,” he said calmly.
    â€œDo you have them?”
    â€œYes.”
    Meg shifted her head until she could see Dominic’s profile outlined in firelight.
    â€œOf what do you dream?” she whispered.
    â€œI don’t know. I know only that I awake cold and sweating.”
    â€œYou don’t remember your dreams?”
    â€œSome of them,” he said.
    â€œBut not those that wake you?” she persisted.
    â€œNo. Not those.”
    Meg’s long sigh sent warmth rushing over Dominic’s skin.
    â€œI wish I didn’t remember,” she whispered.
    â€œCan you tell me what you remember? Or is it a Glendruid matter?”
    â€œI—don’t know,” she said. “Old Gwyn and I don’t talk about it and Mother never said anything at all.”
    â€œBut you think it is Glendruid.”
    There was no question in Dominic’s tone. Though his voice wasn’t harsh, it was clear he meant to pursue answers until he was satisfied.
    â€œYes,” Meg whispered.
    â€œTell me, small falcon.”
    Dominic’s voice was gentle, but his eyes burned with reflected fire.
    â€œThere has been little of peace in my life,” Meg said in a low voice. “My fath—that is, Lord John was ever trying to wed me to a powerful Scots thane or Saxon lord.”
    Dominic made a sound of encouragement.
    â€œAnd all the while,” Meg said, “Saxons whose land had been taken by the Normans roved in bands, fighting and stealing and trying to get back their former family holdings.”
    â€œLike the Reevers?”
    Meg nodded.
    â€œJohn,” she continued, “was the son of a Norman knight and a lady who was both Scots and Saxon. Father and son both had to fight to hold his land. While they fought, crops were ignored and flocks were raided. That was why John took a Glendruid to wife. He wanted a time of prosperity for his lands so that he could afford more knights.”
    Dominic smoothed back a wisp of fire-bright hair that had fallen across Meg’s cheek.
    â€œBut it didn’t happen that way,” she said sadly. “Both lost.”
    â€œBoth?”
    â€œGlendruid and John.”
    â€œWhat did the Glendruids lose?” Dominic asked.
    â€œThe Glendruid Wolf. Old Gwyn believed that my mother would bear a son.”
    â€œInstead, she bore a daughter.”
    â€œA disappointment,” agreed Meg.
    â€œNot to me. Without you I would have died,” Dominic said simply. “To me you are a delight.”
    â€œYou didn’t sound delighted earlier, when you discovered I had left my room.”
    Wisely, Dominic said nothing.
    For a time there was no sound but the soft whisper of fire and the even softer whisper of Dominic’s hand smoothing over Meg’s hair as he remembered her passionate words.
    I obey everyone, answering the needs of even the lowliest of