Queen of Lost Stars (Dragonblade Series/House of St. Hever) (7 page)

With a faint sigh, because she was still rather embarrassed to be offering the man her breast, she finished unlacing the top of her shift and she pulled it aside, off of her right shoulder, to expose an engorged right breast. He was flat on the mattress next to her, his face turned in her direction, and she shifted so she could put a nipple by his half-open mouth. Since he wasn’t conscious, she wondered if it would even work, if he would sense the nipple by his mouth, so she sought to help him along.

Gently, she rubbed her nipple against his lower lip, hoping he would get a feel for it or at least sense that she was there. When that didn’t work, she squeezed her breast slightly and allowed drops of milk to fall into his mouth. She did it a few times before he reacted, licking his lips, tasting the sweet milk on his tongue. She did it again, creating a bit of a stream into his mouth, and this time he reacted faster. He licked his lips again and it seemed to her that he was trying to wake up a bit. She lowered the nipple into his mouth and put her hand on his cheek, as one would do when trying to coax an infant into suckling.

“Drink,” she whispered, tickling his cheek. “Drink and regain your strength, St. Hèver. Take what I can offer.”

The stimulation to his cheek and mouth brought him around and without even opening his eyes, he latched on to her nipple with surprising strength and suckled so hard that he brought pricks of pain shooting through her breast. Madelayne gasped at the force of it, yelping softly when he suddenly grabbed at her and pulled her against him. She was sore and stiff, and St. Hèver might have been on death’s door, but he was still quite strong in moving her towards him. He suckled her hungrily, his hands moving from her torso, where he had grasped her to pull her against him, to her breasts where he started kneading her.

Madelayne was overwhelmed with his innate response, for it was an instantaneous sexual response, much as Cairn had responded to her in their love making. She was trying to keep his hands off of her breasts but she couldn’t quite keep them both off of her, and when one wasn’t on her breast, he was grasping her bottom through her heavy robe. Every motion St. Hèver had was sexual, an innate response of a man to a woman, and Madelayne was becoming quite embarrassed as she tried to, literally, fight him off. But even as she struggled to keep his behavior proper, something else was happening, an innate sense of sexuality that surprised her.

Something she never knew she possessed.

She had just given birth but there was no mistaking the fire in her belly. She was cramping up, terribly, as he nursed at her breasts and she was torn between the pain of it and the powerful sense of lust the man seemed to spark in her. It was the oddest thing, really; she’d never experienced anything like it. The more St. Hèver suckled, the stronger the sensations became. The more she wanted him to suckle.

“Is he feeding, then?” Dolwyd asked, still over by his table.

Hugely embarrassed at what was taking place, Madelayne answered. “He… he is,” she said, grunting when he grabbed her bottom again. “But he cannot seem to keep his hands from me. He is much stronger than you think he is, Dolwyd.”

She said it with some panic in her voice and Dolwyd continued on with his medicaments. “There is nothing like a firm young lass in a man’s bed to bring him to life,” he muttered. “As long as he is feeding, give him all he will take.”

Madelayne was now trying to keep Kaspian from putting his hand between her legs, at one point, slapping his hand and yanking on a finger, nearly pulling it off of his hand, to keep him away. He simply went back to her breasts, now suckling on the left one because he’s suckled the right one dry. He seemed to have calmed down a bit at this point, simply settling in to nurse rather than trying to grab her. A bit frazzled, Madelayne sighed heavily with relief.

“He seems quite hungry,” she said, holding his head against her breast as a kind of instinctive motherly action. “It pains me when he suckles, Dolwyd.”

“Where?”

“My belly.”

The old man nodded as he measured out a cup of wine. “That is good,” he said. “It is your womb, healing itself after the birth. In a sense, St. Hèver is doing you a favor just as you are doing one for him. His suckling is bringing about the healing of your womb. It was what your child would have done, had he lived.”

Oddly enough, Madelayne was starting to see what Dolwyd had been trying to explain to her from the beginning – the benefits of this odd and somewhat embarrassing situation. Kaspian needed her and she needed him, and once he’d stopped grabbing at her, they settled in to a kind of fragile peace. Madelayne gazed down at the man as he suckled, feeling her heart flutter, just a bit.

“The pain in my belly is most strong,” she said.

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“It is bearable.”

“You will feel the pain for the next few days as your womb regains its size again.”

After that, Madelayne didn’t say much more. She continued to hold St. Hèver’s head to her breast as he nursed her dry on both breasts and finally fell into a deep and satisfied sleep. Madelayne remained next to him, wrapped up in his big arms and trapped against him, unable to move. She thought she might leave his bed and return to her own, but the truth was that she was exhausted from the day and, in fact, nestled in St. Hèver’s warm bed had her very drowsy.

She hated herself for thinking that she liked it. The only man she had ever lain next to had been Cairn and he never much allowed her to move away from him. His arms were always around her and it was something she’d become accustomed to. There was comfort there, that was true, but sometimes she didn’t want to sleep with the man all wrapped up around her. There were even times she had wished she could sleep alone, somewhere else.

Therefore, lying next to Kaspian was something of a new experience altogether. His arms around her weren’t cloying or needy; there was something strong and powerful and protective about him, even in his wounded state. And there was a scent about him… something musky and manly – that filled her nostrils in a not unpleasant way. In fact, she rather liked the smell. It was new and different.

And his warmth… aye, it was more than likely the fever that made him so warm, but, God’s Bones, there was such comfort in it. She never knew there could be such comfort in a man’s arms.

As Dolwyd continued to tinker with his medicaments and the fire in the hearth snapped and hissed, Madelayne fell asleep next to Kaspian, as fine and deep a sleep as she’d had in many a night. Somehow, sleeping next to the man brought her some comfort, as odd as it seemed.

When she awoke later on, near dawn, it was to Kaspian nursing on her again.

CHAPTER FIVE

Five days later

K
aspian was aware
of a body next to him and soft, gentle singing.

So softly sings, the wind, my babe; On the wings of angels, may you sleep, my babe; God watches over you, my arms embrace you; never are you more content than now; Sleep, my lovely, sleep….

Whoever was singing had a lovely voice, but he wasn’t interested in that as much as he was the soft, warm, and small form next to him. He simply lay there, trying to orient himself and wondering who was in his bed, singing to him. He shifted slightly; his body was sore and it hurt to move. His mind, foggy, tried to recall his last memory. Something about a battle… through the mists of his brain… he remembered leaving Lavister for Beeston.
Beeston!
Such a brutal attack, with Welsh as plentiful as ants, swarming Beeston and the English who came to help. God, there were so many of them.

Memories came falling down upon him, pouring down like a waterfall. He well remembered the Welsh bastards who fought without honor. Surely, some of them could be skilled fighters but they fought dirty, cutting men’s legs out from underneath them and killing horses to get to the mounted riders. All signs of bastards without a speck of honor amongst them.

Bastards who had, nonetheless, managed to cut him down. He closed his eyes, remembering the spear that pierced his gut. He had removed the weapon and tried to ignore the bleeding, but bright red blood streamed from him and he knew that he had been badly wounded. With the greatest reluctance, he had turned for the rear of the battle where the wounded were being gathered. He remembered riding into the midst of the wounded and falling from his horse. He tried to walk under his own power but he couldn’t seem to do it; men were carrying him, taking him somewhere to lie down.

And then he caught a glimpse of a red-haired knight, lying dead and beaten.
Cairn.
Horror had swept him when he realized that Cairn had been struck down. The man was lying away from the wounded with the dead, but Kaspian had recognized him. His heart sank. And that was about the last thing he remembered until this moment. Grunting with the pain that even lifting his hand caused, he wiped at his crusty eyes.

“St. Hèver?” a soft, sweet voice floated into his ear. “Can you hear me?”

He stopped rubbing at his eyes, turning with some shock towards the sound of the voice. It was coming from that soft, petite body next to him. Just about the time he laid eyes on Lady l’Ebreux who was, in fact, in his bed, he also caught sight of Dolwyd. The old man was over near Kaspian’s work table, now evidently cluttered with the old physic’s possessions. When Dolwyd saw that Kaspian was actually looking at him, he came away from the table and towards the bed.

“So you are awake?” the old man said, sounding surprised. “I was coming to think you might never awaken. How do you feel?”

Kaspian looked at the old man, puzzled by the comment, but he was even more puzzled by the fact that Lady l’Ebreux was in his bed. He was so muddled that it was difficult to form a coherent thought and he struggled through the cobwebs.

“Weary,” he said. “I feel… very weary. And sore. I am at Lavister?”

Dolwyd nodded. “You are,” he said. “Your men brought you back from Beeston. You were wounded there. Do you remember anything?”

Kaspian nodded, faintly. “I remember being wounded,” he said. “I remember being taken to the wounded and I remember seeing….”

He suddenly looked at Madelayne, flicking his eyes up in her direction. He didn’t want to mention what he saw, which was Cairn’s battered body, but he was more than interested in the woman’s close proximity to him. God’s Bones, if the woman wasn’t lying in his bed! What was going on here, anyway?

Dolwyd saw where Kaspian’s attention went, straight to Madelayne. He suspected the man was hesitant to speak of the battle, and of Cairn, so he hastened to reassure him.

“Cairn came back with you as well, but there was nothing to be done for him,” he said quietly. “He has been put in Lavister’s vault. It is Lady l’Ebreux’s wish that he be buried in Shrewsbury with his sons.”

Kaspian’s brow furrowed. “Sons?”

“Cairn’s second son was born the day you were returned from Beeston,” Madelayne said. She could see the confusion in Kaspian’s dazed face. “He did not survive his birth. I wish for Cairn to be buried with both of his sons, in the yard at Shrewsbury.”

Kaspian felt a great deal of sorrow at the news. He well remembered the day they had departed for Beeston and how Cairn had lingered long enough to anger him, lingering with a pregnant wife who was frightened of birthing yet another dead son. In fact, Kaspian felt like an ogre for having been so impatient with Cairn but he’d had a battle on his mind and not a pregnant woman. Now, he was coming to regret his behavior a great deal.

“I am very sorry, Lady l’Ebreux,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. “It would seem that you have had two very unhappy events in your life recently and I am quite sorry to hear of the child’s passing. As for Cairn… I will miss him. He was a good man.”

Madelayne simply nodded her head and averted her gaze, unable or unwilling to speak more on her husband. Kaspian’s attention lingered on her for a moment, his thoughts shifting from Cairn’s death back to the fact that the woman was in his bed. Never one to skirt a subject, he looked the old physic in the eye.

“Dolwyd,” he said. “I cannot help but notice Lady l’Ebreux is lying next to me. I would assume there is a reason for this?”

Dolwyd gave him a half-grin, acknowledging the tone of his voice. As if Kaspian was both suspicious and afraid, but perhaps even interested, to know the answer to that question.

“Not for anything so scandalous, I assure you,” he said. “She has been feeding you.”

Kaspian was more puzzled than he had been before. “Feeding me?” he repeated. “I do not need for her to get into bed with me in order to feed me.”

Dolwyd nodded. “You do,” he replied. “With your belly wound, you cannot take solid food. Lady l’Ebreux has graciously been feeding you that which was meant for her child and, along with the medicines I have been giving you, I believe you are on the path to healing. The poison in your belly has diminished and you have awakened. That is the sign that your strength is returning.”

Kaspian stared at him. “Feeding me that which was meant for her…?” It suddenly occurred to him what Dolwyd meant. “Feeding me…
that
?”