A Moment in Time (17 page)

His fingers were sending rather sharp darts of excitement through her veins. "When," Wynne said, her voice slightly shaky, "when, my lord, do I learn to caress y-you?"

In answer he turned her about so that they were facing one another, and his mouth swooped down to find hers in a deep, burning kiss. "Now!" he almost groaned against her lips.

With trembling fingers she ran her hands over his muscular shoulders as he continued to kiss her, softly now, nibbling on her lower lip until, confused, she half whispered, "Stop, I beg you, my lord!"

He instantly ceased and stood silent.

Half shyly, half boldly, Wynne slid her hands over his smooth skin. Her touch was like a wave flirting with a beach. It came and then it fled back, unsure, never venturing farther than his waist. Madoc cupped her buttocks in his hands, and Wynne then followed his lead, her small hands fondling him with now daring abandon. "Does it pleasure you, my lord?"

"Perhaps too much so, dearling," came the answer, and he released his hold on her bottom, sliding his arms about her waist to draw her even closer to him.

She could feel his male organ pressing against her leg. She had not dared to gaze upon it yet, but it seemed quite hard and very big. Her palms flattened themselves against his smooth chest and she moved them with growing assurance in small circles over his skin. "I should like another kiss, Madoc," she told him, and he most eagerly complied, sending new flashes of heat racing through her body. "Ahhhhh, my lord," she said, "kissing and caressing together gives one even greater pleasure! Is it the same for you?"

The blood was thundering in his ears. What in the name of all common sense had ever made him think he could do this without wanting to make total love to her? Was he receiving pleasure as she was? Dear God, aye! But it was all he could do to refrain from taking her here and now. He forced himself to answer her. "How could I not receive pleasure from so soft a hand and such sweet lips, Wynne?" Releasing her, he bent and, slipping her sleeping gown back over her delightful little body, laced it with shaking fingers.

When he had stepped back she had seen his state and, reaching down, she took him in her hand.

Madoc groaned as if in dire pain.

Another woman might have drawn away, but she did not. Instead she caressed him gently, saying as she did so, "How strong and mighty is this lance of yours, Madoc of Powys. Why do you cry out? Does my touch hurt you?"

"I ache to possess you, dearling," he told her. "There is no fault in you."

"I am not ready yet to give myself totally to you," she replied.

To which he answered, "I know. I thought I might teach you of pleasure tonight, but I find I cannot touch you, Wynne, without wanting you."

"I desire you also, Madoc," was the surprising answer, "but again I say I am not quite ready to allow you possession of my body and my soul." She withdrew her curious hand.

"No one can ever possess another's soul, dearling," he said.

"Yet there is a meeting of souls when two lovers truly love one another, isn't there, my lord?"

He nodded slowly, again surprised by her intuitiveness.

"We have been lovers in another time and another place," Wynne said. "Have we not?"

"Aye."

"Tell me, for you know, I am certain of it!" Wynne said.

"I cannot, dearling. You must remember. It is part of our fate that you do. I can tell you nothing that you do not learn for yourself." He put his arms about her and drew her close.

There was a scent to him, Wynne realized, as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Unable to help herself, she kissed the skin beneath her lips. "Since my earliest memory, I have had a dream, Madoc," she began. "I have never understood this dream, but now I think it may have something to do with us."

"Tell me," he begged.

She rubbed her face against him. "There is little to tell. It is always the same and there is no sense to it."

"Tell me!"
His plea was urgent now.

"I am in mist. There is much sadness. I can feel it all about me. It permeates the very air. I hear a voice calling, and above me a raven soars, crying the word,
Remember.
Then I awaken weeping. It is always the same."

"What does the voice say to you, Wynne?" he asked her gently.

"It calls out a name," she answered him, "but I cannot make out the name, Madoc, try as I will."

He held her tightly and said, "It is a start."

"Do you understand my dream?" she asked, drawing away and looking up at him.

"Aye, I do." His face was sad.

"But you cannot tell me," Wynne said.

He shook his head. "You must learn for yourself, dearling."

"How?"
she demanded.

"I am not certain yet, but perhaps there is a way to unlock your memory, Wynne. Helping you to learn what you must know is not, I believe, like telling you. I must think on it else we find ourselves at an impasse, and that I cannot allow." Their talk had cooled his passions, and he kissed her upon her forehead. "You really must rest, my darling. These last few days have been tiring for you." He picked her up and, carrying her across the chamber, settled her gently in her bed.

"It is a very large bed," she noted. "Lie by me for a while, Madoc."

"Nay, my love, for if I do, I will finish what I so foolishly started tonight. You must trust me when I tell you that the time is not yet right." Then before she might protest, he was gone from the room through the door into his own chamber.

For several minutes Wynne lay silently in the dark. It was so confusing, and yet it was also fascinating. And passion. She smiled to herself. The more she learned of passion, the better she liked it. Madoc's touch had been a revelation. Shyly she touched herself, feeling her nipples grow tight, and yet it wasn't the same. Pleasurable, but not the same. Suddenly she found herself most sleepy. There was so much to see and to learn here at Raven's Rock. She sighed and was asleep.

In the days that followed, Wynne learned all she needed to know about the functioning of Raven's Rock Castle from Nesta. There were many innovations here that she would have never dreamed of, although she found them most practical. There was no cook house. The kitchens were instead located within the castle itself on a lower level. There was a kitchen garden within the main gardens set comfortably against a castle wall. They grew lettuce, peas, carrots, beets, marrows, and parsnips, Nesta told her, as well as simple kitchen herbs like parsley, rosemary, sage, and thyme. There was a small orchard with apple, peach, and cherry trees.

The servants were pleasant souls, eager to please her. From the morning after her arrival, she found she was expected to give the cook the menus for the day. He was a large, jolly man who shared his kitchens with his younger brother, who was the castle's baker. When Wynne admitted she was unused to so large a home, both the cook and the baker told her, smiling, that she would soon be used to it all. In the meantime they would help her to cope.

"You'll have no difficulties," Nesta assured Wynne. "You ran Gwernach quite well. Raven's Rock is only a matter of getting used to the greater number of people to care for, and I will help you."

"Where does Madoc's wealth come from?" Wynne asked Nesta one day.

"There are several sources," Nesta said, "for our family has always thought it unwise to put all one's hopes on one thing. The glens below us open out into a large single valley. It is ours. We graze our cattle there. There was a period after my father died that Madoc left Raven's Rock and traveled to Byzantium. Our family has always been involved in trading."

"But Raven's Rock is not near the sea," Wynne said.

"It doesn't have to be," Nesta replied. "Here is where the princes of Powys-Wenwynwyn live; but our trading houses are located in the cities along the coast of our own Wales, of England and in Ireland as well. We have factors in the land of the Franks and in cities along an ancient sea that one sails to get to Byzantium; and we have a great trading house in Byzantium itself. Then, too, my brother makes investments in other trading ventures. Caravans that travel to Jerusalem and beyond. It is all quite complicated. I don't really understand half of it, but if you are curious, ask Madoc. He loves to speak on his own cleverness, and will go on for hours if you allow him."

Wynne laughed. "I do not think that is kind, sister," she said. "I think Madoc must be very clever to be so rich."

The autumn months waned as the hills grew golden with passing time, finally fading into December. Now the only colors to be seen were the green of the pines and the grays, blacks, and browns of the winter hillsides. The Solstice was upon them, and with it, Nesta and Rhys's wedding.

Rhys arrived at Raven's Rock as Madoc had instructed him, two days before the marriage was to be celebrated. He came with a party of a hundred men; and accompanied by his cousins, the lords of Coed and Llyn; their wives; the young lord of Gwernach, his grandmother, and his sister. Madoc had sent David the bailiff to Gwernach several weeks after Wynne had come to Raven's Rock. She had interviewed the man and found him to be everything that Madoc had said he was.

"I realize my brother is young," Wynne had told David, "but unless you are absolutely certain that he is wrong, you must defer to him in all things. He will not learn otherwise, and his pride is great."

"Not unlike the pride of most men, my lady," David replied, a twinkle in his eyes, and Wynne liked him even more for it.

With David overseeing Gwernach, Dewi ap Owain was free to come to Raven's Rock to attend Nesta's wedding to Rhys. His eyes widened at the wonders he saw, but as impressed as he was with Raven's Rock, he could not help but say most bluntly, "I still prefer Gwernach."

"And so you should," Wynne agreed. "It is your home."

"A fool never changes," Caitlin muttered to her brother. "This place is paradise, and you prefer that dung heap from which we sprang forth? I'd sell my soul to Satan himself to have all this!" And she gestured broadly about the hall with her hand.

"Are you not content at Coed then?" Wynne questioned her sister.

“ 'Tis a fair enough place, but much like Gwernach, to be honest with you," Caitlin replied. "I've had more than enough to do to put it in order to suit me, but now that I've gotten the lady Blodwen out of the house, 'twill be easier. There is much I see here that I can adapt to a smaller home, but perhaps I shall just enlarge it instead." She looked thoughtful.

"What has happened to the lady Blodwen?" Wynne asked, more than curious to learn how Caitlin had rid herself of her mother-in-law.

"Oh, she's gone to St. Frideswide's Convent, where she will end her days. She's quite comfortable, but she is out of my hair at last," Caitlin said in a pleased tone.

"And just how did you get her to leave?" Wynne demanded. "The truth, Caitlin!"

Caitlin laughed smugly and then lowered her voice. "I would not want Arthwr to hear, for I promised the fat old cow I would keep her secret from her son in return for her voluntary departure." Caitlin's voice dipped lower. "I caught my dear mother-in-law in the bakehouse, her skirts bunched up about her waist, bent over a table stuffing her face with cakes and sweetmeats while the baker, his rough hands grasping her fleshy hips, pumped her full of his own cream. It was not the first time I had seen her thus, but I waited to expose her until I was certain it was a regular occurrence. Old Blodwen is lewd beyond all, although to look at her one would not guess it. She visited the bakehouse at least four times a week, and at her age too!" Caitlin finished, sounding just the tiniest bit aggrieved.

"So you forced her from her home and into a convent?" Wynne exclaimed. "Was that not harsh, sister?"

"I cannot have such a creature about to debauch my children with her shamelessness," Caitlin said primly, her hands touching her belly for the briefest moment. "Her behavior was inexcusable, and she would not have changed it had I allowed her to remain. Really, Wynne! A discreet lover of our own class I could have forgiven, but sister, she was swiving the baker!

"And what happened to the baker?" Enid asked, curious.

"I told Arthwr that he had offended me, and I had him well flogged. He got off lightly, Grandmother, and the baker is no fool. He took his whipping and went back to his ovens. I could have had his life."

"But to do that," Wynne noted, "you would have had to expose the lady Blodwen, and then you would not have had such a good bargaining chip. Perhaps she would not have gone willingly at all."