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Gwent laughed and rubbed his hands together. “A fitting punishment for her then, my lady.”
And even as Hastings listened, laughed, and nodded with approval, she wasn’t paying them much attention now. She was thinking instead of Lady Blanche. She was wondering how Lady Blanche knew about this wildness, how she, a lady, had known that she wanted to attack her husband and be attacked by him. It was confusing.
When she was at her bath a good hour later, she was still thinking of Lady Blanche. She turned to Dame Agnes. “We mayhap need Alice and Belle.”
“Ah,” said Dame Agnes with a goodly deal of satisfaction. “Your lord experiments, does he?”
“Aye, but that is not what I wish to ask about. You see, Sir Thurston’s bride wanted rough play; she was fierce and was wild even when she was still a virgin. Afterward, she was wilder still. I have never heard of this. I do not understand it. And I want to.”
Dame Agnes merely nodded. She left the bedchamber to return shortly with Alice. “We could not find Belle. Gwent said she was with the blacksmith, Old Morric, that the man is nearly dead she has drained him of so much of his vigor and seed. I have told Alice what you said. She said this is very common, that sometimes ladies—”
Alice cleared her throat, took the thick sponge from Dame Agnes, and began to rub soap over Hastings’s back. “Some men think their wives should lie on their backs, close their eyes, and open their legs. That is all these men expect, all they want. Some men, though, obviously like this Sir Thurston and your Lord Severin, are more flexible in their views. I daresay if you were to mount your husband, even tie his hands to the headboard, even take him in your mouth, he would swoon with the pleasure of it.”
“What do you mean, take him in my mouth? What him?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Hastings. His rod,” Dame Agnes said.
“Oh. I have done that once. I thought he would expire. You are right. It appeared to be something a man would beg for.”
“Hmmm,” Dame Agnes said. “Things are progressing well. You will simply learn this wildness, Hastings. It is not a sin; it could bring you great pleasure if you let your husband know that you might enjoy it.”
“I could not,” Hastings said. “I could not. He would laugh at me. He would think—”
“What he would think,” Severin said from the doorway, standing there all tall and relaxed, his eyes as dark as the night, his arms crossed over his chest, “is that your women can leave you now.”
Alice handed him the soapy sponge as she passed him. She was whistling. Dame Agnes merely looked as satisfied as MacDear when he had baked a pheasant to perfection.
Severin didn’t move until he was alone with her. Slowly, he turned to shut the door to the bedchamber. He turned the key in the lock. When he turned to face her again, Hastings was sitting in her bathwater, feeling like a rabbit in the sights of a hunter’s arrow.
“You should have asked me if you wanted to know more about this rough play, Hastings.”
“I did but you would not tell me anything.”
“I still won’t, but I will show you.” He held out his hand to her. Slowly, she rose in her bathwater and he held her there. “Stand there for a moment, I would look at you.”
“The water is chilled.”
Slowly, reluctantly, he handed her a drying cloth. He couldn’t wait to get her onto the bed.
“Mayhap this wildness isn’t really me, Severin.”
He merely grunted, thinking if she were any wilder, he would be a very happy dead man. When she was dry, when she turned to face him, he was standing naked by the bed, smiling at her, his hand held out. “Drop the drying cloth and come here. We will soon see just how much
of this wildness is in your blood.”
“How will you know? Will I shriek and writhe about? Must I draw your blood?”
“Nay, you will mount me and I will let you plunder me.”
She looked at him very straightly, dropped the towel, and said, “And after I have plundered you, may I take you in my mouth again?”
She thought he would leap on her, but he managed to hold himself back. He was breathing fast and hard. His man’s sex was ready for her, she knew that, but it was more than that, it was the words she’d just said to him.
She gave him a siren’s smile and walked toward him.
18
THE HEALER FELT LADY MORAINE’S HEAD, HER LONG narrow fingers gentle and light, covering every bit of her skull. “Ah,” she said, pressed Lady Moraine’s head back, and looked closely into her eyes. She pulled up the eyelids and looked some more. She hummed as she smoothed her fingers over Lady Moraine’s ears, twisting and turning them, pulling them away from her head and peering inside.
