“There!” said Rogan FitzGerald triumphantly. “There she waits like a good and dutiful wife, Cavan. Ahh, yer a lucky man, my lad. A lucky man!”
Cavan stumbled across the floor, and yanking the bedclothes back said, “Stand up, Aidan! Stand up, and show the men of this family what fine big tits ye have,” and he pulled her into a standing position to her intense mortification. Cavan’s arm clamped about her waist quite successfully imprisoning her, and with his other hand he hefted one of her breasts displaying it to the others. “Look! Look at these beauties, and envy me! At last I’ve come into me own!”
There was a long painful silence for Aidan as she was forced to stand there on display before these virtual strangers. It took every ounce of her willpower not to turn on the drunken boor who now called himself her husband, and knock him to the ground. Instead she stared directly at Rogan FitzGerald, and was finally satisfied to see him look away, saying as he did so, “ ’Tis a lucky man, our Cavan is, but now let us leave him to enjoy the rewards of his wedding night,” and the old man shepherded the others out, closing the door firmly behind him as he went.
Pulling her against him now Cavan FitzGerald pressed his mouth against Aidan’s stopping her half-choked protests with a smothering kiss. She almost gagged in revulsion as he pushed his tongue into her mouth, but with a supreme effort of will she managed to retain her calm. His hands clamped about her buttocks forcing her into even closer proximity with his body which he now rubbed suggestively against hers.
“Jesu,” he muttered against her mouth, “yer a real beauty with yer clothes off, Aidan. I never expected it, but yer more of a prize than I thought.” Releasing her buttocks he slid an arm about her waist again, and began to fondle a breast with his fingers. Then his free hand grasped at her hand, and he forced her down so that she was forced to touch him. “Feel me,” he groaned at her. “I’m hard as a stone, Aidan, and hot to give ye a good fucking, woman.”
“And do ye usually fuck in yer clothing, Cavan?” she murmured at him. “Ye’ve a wife now, and a bed, and since ye’ve had a good look at me without my clothes, I’d like a good look at ye.” She compelled her mouth into a suggestive smile, and gently loosing his grip on her she sprawled open-legged and temptingly upon her back upon the bed.
Stunned, he looked at her. “I thought ye loved Conn O’Malley,” he said suspiciously.
“Oh, aye, and I do,” she answered, “but Conn and I were really not wed according to the rites of the Holy Mother Church, were we? You and I, however, are, and there’s nothing I can do about it, Cavan. I’m a practical woman, ye see, and besides my stay in Turkey gave me a taste for variety in my men.”
“Play me false with another,” he threatened, “and I’ll beat ye within an inch of yer life, Aidan. Make no mistake about it. I’ll not be made a cuckold.”
“Ye won’t be if yer man enough, Cavan, and I somehow think ye are,” she purred at him. “Now, off with yer clothes, man, and let me see yer goods!” Casually reaching down with a hand she stroked herself lewdly, and smiled up at him. “Women get hot to fuck, too, Cavan.”
He tore off his clothes, flinging them heedless of where they fell, and then naked he sat upon the bed’s edge, and yanked off his boots. Then standing again he displayed himself to her proudly. “I doubt ye’ve ever seen better,” he bragged grinning down at her.
Aidan almost laughed for Cavan FitzGerald was a man of but average size to her way of thinking, but instead she reached out and caressed his manhood with clever fingers. Her hand smoothed back and forth along his length several times, and then surprised him by slipping beneath his rod to cup and fondle his pouch. For a brief moment his eyes closed, and he groaned softly. “Ye’ve all the instincts of a wanton bitch,” he said.
“Would ye rather I cry and make ye force me? I’ll wager yer Spanish wife said her rosary when ye were atop her. I’ll not say my rosary,” she taunted him. “I’ll tell ye instead all the ways I know to please a man. Secret things that I learned in the harem, Cavan; and I’ll tell ye what pleases me. Ye want to know those things, don’t ye, Cavan?” and she held out her arms to him.
With a hoarse cry he flung himself upon her, fumbling with himself as he sought to find his way. Aidan shuddered, unable to help herself, but she knew he would assume her reaction only passion. She wanted to shriek, and push him off her. Her dinner roiled unpleasantly in her stomach, and she was near to vomiting; but she forced herself to remember what it was she must do. She could feel him rubbing his hardness against the opening to her passage, and for a moment she felt panic. With a simulated groan of passion she wrapped her legs about him, one hand about his neck as with closed eyes she kissed him with what she hoped was great conviction. Slowly her other hand reached back to slip beneath the pillows, and she stealthily felt about for the blade she knew was there. Her heart was hammering wildly for she realized she had but one chance.
With a bellow of lust Cavan FitzGerald thrust his hardness into Aidan, and he ordered her thickly, “Work yer hips, ye wanton bitch! Work yer hips!”
Aidan’s hand made contact with the dagger handle, and she breathed a sigh of relief as her fingers closed about it. Then she thrust herself up to meet his downward motions as slowly she drew her weapon from its hiding place. “Ohh, Cavan! Ohh, Cavan!” she moaned at him, knowing that he expected some reaction to his frantic thrusts.
He pumped at her hard and fast groaning as he did so, “Tell me no one’s ever fucked ye better, wanton!
Tell me!
”
She had managed to bring her arm out and around into striking range. Opening her eyes she checked her position while he slobbered wet kisses against her neck, and humped her with ever-increasing urgency.
“Tell me, bitch!”
he begged her.
“Yer the worst lover I’ve ever had, ye bastard!” she said with devastating frankness, and then she drove her dagger downward to plunge into his back, and make immediate contact with his heart.
Cavan FitzGerald raised his head in surprise, and he opened his mouth to speak, but there was no sound. With a supreme effort he lifted himself up, and his manhood, still hard, slipped from her body to Aidan’s great relief for she had been afraid he would in his death throes release his seed into her, but he had not. Together in the heavy silence they watched as his firm shaft became naught but a small and flaccid white worm. His look was one of total disbelief, and shock. Then the life fled from his eyes, and Cavan fell dead across Aidan’s naked body.
With a speed that surprised even her Aidan pushed his body off her. Backing into the farthest corner of the bed she put her hands over her face, and began to weep softly. For some minutes she couldn’t control her shaking. She wanted Conn. She wanted her husband to come and put his warm arms about her, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. Then as the shock began to gradually wear off her, Aidan rose from the bed, and going over to the fireplace took the earthenware pitcher from the hot ashes in the corner and poured the warm water into the basin on the hearth. Adding a few pieces of peat to the fire to build it up a bit, she began to scrub at herself with a small scrap of cloth. She wanted to get his smell off her for even now it clogged her nostrils reminding her of the ordeal she had just undergone. Every now and then she glanced over to the bed to look at his sprawling body, to check again to be certain that he was dead, but he was much to her relief.
Opening the carved chest at the foot of the bed she found her split-legged skirt, another shirt, and her underclothing where Nan had promised to put it. With fumbling fingers she dressed herself, and then finding her stockings and her boots where the women left them, she drew them on. She started for the door, but then a thought took her, and going back over to the bed she rolled the corpse over, and withdrew the dagger from his body, wiping the blood off on the bedcovers. She might need that weapon again, she thought, and stuck it in her belt. Then creeping to the door she listened for a moment, but hearing no one, she opened it, and slipping out hurried up the winding staircase of the tower house to the topmost room where Nan and the baby were waiting.
Nan was awake, dressed and awaiting her. She had Aidan’s cloak. “I thought ye weren’t able to get away, m’lady,” she said. “Is he really dead?”
Aidan nodded. “Aye, speak no more of it, Nan. It makes me sick to think of what I’ve done. Are my men below?”
The girl nodded. “All we need do is let down the sheets, and they’ll send the rope back up to us. I don’t mind telling ye, m’lady, that I’m frightened to death. ’Tis a fearful drop, it is.”
For a moment Aidan thought, and then she said, “Nan, my grandfather’s windows are the only ones below this one, aren’t they?”
“Aye,” said the girl slowly, and then she smiled broadly. “We can go out there, can’t we!”
“If the sight of
his
dead body won’t make ye faint, girl, and we can’t take the cradle. We’ll have to lower Valentina without any protection.”
“I can swaddle her, m’lady, and we’ll tie the ropes about her middle, and her ankles to lower her. I let her nurse extra long tonight, and she’ll not wake, even with the rain.”
Together the two women, Nan clutching the baby to her bosom, crept back down the winding staircase to Rogan FitzGerald’s bedchamber which had been the bridal suite for tonight. As the door closed softly behind them Aidan turned the ancient iron key in the lock, and the baby put upon the bed, away from Cavan’s body, together Aidan and Nan quietly moved a chair beneath the door handle, and the large carved chest against the whole thing. Then they set to work to strip the bed of its sheets which they lowered out the open window to where Aidan’s four servants awaited. Quickly Cluny tied two thick ropes onto the sheets, and signaled for them to be pulled back up.
Looking out of the window as this transaction was undertaken, Aidan was glad that she had decided to escape from here rather than from the top of the tower. The drop from here was steep enough. In this room, however, there was little likelihood of their being disturbed as no one would invade the sanctity of the bridal chamber.
Working silently the two women tied one end of each rope tightly to individual bedposts. It would take more than their light weight on the bed to move it for the bed was an enormous creation of solid oak. While Aidan tested the knots for safety, Nan swaddled Valentina even more carefully than she had been, carefully covering the baby’s little face with a light cloth to protect it from the rain. Then together they fastened the ropes about the child, and with great care began to lower her from the window, moving slowly until she had cleared the window entirely, and then letting the ropes down swiftly before the howling wind could catch at the little bundle, and slam the helpless baby against the stone tower. Aidan heaved a sigh of relief as her daughter reached the bottom, and unfastened, was taken into young Jim’s arms.
Now it was Nan’s turn, and as Aidan tied the heavy rope about the girl she warned her, “Now, no shrieking no matter how frightened ye get. I don’t care how loudly the wind is howling, I don’t want to take the chance of them hearing us even in this storm. Ye can’t fall with the rope about yer waist. Just hold on, and brace yer feet against the side of the tower as ye go down. Ye’ll be all right.”
White-faced, Nan nonetheless gave her a brave nod, and without even a protest she climbed out on the sill, and pushed off, clutching desperately to the ropes as she swung out. Aidan watched her swift descent, relieved as Cluny and Mark reached up to help her the final few feet, and then quickly released her. Aidan pulled the ropes back up, and tossing her cloak down to the waiting men, she fastened the ropes tightly about her own waist. With a quick last glance about the room, and a silent prayer for Cavan FitzGerald, Aidan leapt out into the raging storm and gloomy summer twilight.
She was quickly at the bottom, and Cluny was undoing the ropes from about her, grumbling as he did so. “And if ye had waited for himself, yer husband, none of this would have happened. What did ye do with FitzGerald? Get him drunk?”
“Nay, I killed him, Cluny. If I had waited for Conn we would have walked into a trap that would have seen
him
killed. My dear FitzGerald relations were going to kill Conn, ye dolt! That would have settled the matter for good and all, wouldn’t it?” His mouth fell open in surprise at her words, but he as quickly recovered himself as she hissed at him, “Where are the horses?”
“Locked in the stable,” came the reply. “The old robber, yer grandsire, and his servants chased us from our shelter several hours ago with the admonition to seek our master out for ye did not need us anymore. We were lucky that we had already stowed the ropes away out here. We can come back for the horses, m’lady, but my advice is for us to go now. Even in this storm they’re bound to hear us if we batter the stables in, and besides there are at least half a dozen servants sleeping there. This way we go now, and none the wiser until morning when they finally wonder why the happy couple haven’t arisen, and decide to investigate.”
“They’ll have some fun getting into the bridal chamber,” she chuckled. “Nan and I barricaded the door.” Then she became serious. “Can we escape them on foot?”
“ ’Tis but a few miles to the coast, m’lady, and we’ve got at least nine hours before they get curious. If we don’t meet Lord Bliss on our way, there is a castle there on the coast, owned by Lord Glin, and he’s loyal to the queen. We can shelter there.”
“How did ye learn that?” she asked, him, once again amazed by Cluny’s resourcefulness.
“One of the stable lads liked to talk,” said Cluny offhandedly. “Come along now, m’lady, take yer cloak. We’d best be going.” He wrapped the garment about Aidan, and drew the hood up to shelter her now wet hair.
“Give me Valentina,” said Aidan to Nan. “I can shelter her beneath my cape, and ye have none. I’d have given ye mine, but I am so much taller than ye.”