Kingdom Come (21 page)

Kieran usually took his time with her but, at the moment, his want for her was consuming him. He slid his hands underneath the lamb’s wool shift, his hands finding her soft breasts and kneading them tenderly.   Rory pulled the shift over her head and met his lustful kisses once more, opening her mouth to his probing tongue, suckling on it and driving him wild.   When he could stand it no longer, he took hold of her hips and wedged himself in between her legs.  Firmly, but with great care, he drove his rock-hard shaft into her wet and swollen folds.

Rory groaned as he buried himself deep inside her body.  It had been a long time since they had tasted one another and she felt every thrust, every movement, with the greatest of pleasure.  She wrapped her legs around his buttocks, pulling him in deeper and deeper, feeling his massive member hit her G-spot again and again. In no time, she was climaxing, biting off her cries against his mouth as he continued to thrust. 

Soon enough, he erupted deep inside her body, groaning softly as he murmured his love for her against her lips.  Their passion cooled, satisfied, but only for the moment; Kieran took her twice more on the lumpy straw mattress as the night outside deepened.

Rory fell into an exhausted sleep, buried beneath Kieran’s warm and enormous body.   They slept, wrapped up in each other, until sunrise the next morning.  Kieran awoke as the sky began to lighten; it was habit.  Birds were chirping and he could hear the water lapping in the inlet. But Rory was still sleeping the sleep of the dead and he carefully disengaged himself from her, rising slowly so he would not disturb her.  The fire had gone out of the furnace so he put her lamb’s wool shift over her beautiful naked body, plus the second coverlet, and went to light the fire for her.

The seagulls were already screaming outside as the morning began to dawn.  Kieran could see bright blue sky beyond the window as he pulled on his breeches and boots.  He then proceeded to put on the rest of his clothing, adding a couple of well-concealed daggers for protection.  With Rory still sleeping heavily, he quit the room to go about some necessary business.

Rory slept well into the morning.When she finally awoke, it was because a seagull had perched on the windowsill and squawked loudly.Somewhat startled out of a deep sleep, Rory lay in bed a moment, staring at the uneven ceiling and trying to remember where she was. It took her a moment to remember she was in Marseille with Kieran and she stretched and yawned, smiling faintly as she thought about the night before.  She lifted her hands, smelling Kieran on her flesh.  It was a manly, musky scent, exclusive to him. It was the most wonderful scent in the world.

She sat up in the lumpy bed, immediately feeling nausea. An upset stomach had been her constant companion since waking up on that rocky beach almost a month ago so she didn’t give it much notice. Everything about this time and place in history upset her stomach. She looked around for a chamber pot but didn’t see one.  Thoughts of an outhouse or privy disgusted her but she had to go to the bathroom so she hurried up and got dressed.

She washed her bra and panties in the cold bathwater, scrubbing them out and putting them near the furnace to dry in the warmth.Meanwhile, she had pulled on the soft lamb’s wool sleeping shift and the only pair of socks she had, the ones she had been wearing the day they appeared on the beach, and she padded around in the room getting her clothes and toiletries together. 

The oil from the previous night had made her skin luscious and soft, and she smoothed more on, loving the scent of it. She even rubbed a little on her face.  As her undergarments dried out, she pulled out the cosmetics she had purchased – a color palette that had been imported all the way from Egypt that contained ocher rouge and lip color that was applied with a little paint brush, beautiful bluish-green eye shadow that was made from crushed sea shells and copper ore, and black-as-night kohl that was also applied with a tiny brush.  There were also a few other colors on the palette, one a pale skin color and another that was kind of brownish. She wasn’t sure what it was made of but she liked the shade. There was also a big pot of a lip ointment made of mint and very fine strained tallow that made it very creamy.

Rory had to shake her head at the raw and rough Medieval cosmetics; she could only imagine what they might do to her skin and hoped she wasn’t allergic to any of the ingredients. She also knew that the only women who wore color on their faces were whores so she would have to be careful about how much color she applied.  Taking her precious little mirror, she mixed the ocher lip color in the lip balm until it was a very faint peach shade and applied it to her luscious lips.  Then she rubbed a slight amount of the rouge on her cheeks so it was barely visible.  Her eyes were more of a challenge; they were big and hazel, and she didn’t want it to look like she had put obvious eye makeup on, so she rubbed a little of the brown color on her lids and outlined her top lashes with an extremely thin line of the black kohl. Using her index finger, she rubbed it into the kohl and stroked it onto her lashes to see if it would stick like mascara. Once dry, it made her lashes look long and dark but not thick like mascara would. Still, she liked the results a great deal.  Standing back to take a look at herself, she thought she looked rather good.  A modern-day girl trying to work with Medieval cosmetics.  Estee Lauder would be proud.

Her long chestnut-colored hair was a little unruly this morning; she’d slept on it wet and it was sticking up in places.  Looking at herself, she had terrible bed-head.  Her hair was generally straight and fairly thick but here she was with no flat iron, curling iron or blow drying and she had no idea how she was going to handle her hair. 

 After a moment’s indecision, her gaze fell on the warm furnace, burning hunks of peat, and an idea occurred to her; using the cold bathwater, she wet her hair, pulled out the horsehair brush that she had purchased with the rest of toiletries, and went over to the furnace.  Then she began the laborious process of holding her head next to the furnace and brushing her hair, over and over, drying it out and hopefully drying it marginally straight.  

Whatever she did worked; her hair dried straight and extremely soft.  No chemicals in the water did wonders for her hair even if it was a bit fly-away. She ran her fingers through her hair, thinking it very strange not to have any product on it. Pleased with the results nonetheless, she pulled the front of her hair back off her face, tying it behind her head with one of the ribbons she had borrowed at Hut’s hostel. 

Testing her underwear, it was dry but semi-stiff, so she removed the lamb’s wool shift and put her bra and panties on. Then she pulled the shift back on.  The trunk on top of the stack of trunks was open and she began pulling stuff out, coming across all of the garments that were made for her before they sailed from Tyre. Being sick the entire time on the boat hadn’t given her any time to inspect her new acquisitions, so she began laying them out on the bed. 

By the time she pulled out the fourth surcoat, she decided that was the one she would wear; it was an iridescent orange color with hints of yellow and red in the fabric.  The seamstress had even stitched gold thread around the plunging neckline that looked like a rick-rack accent.  It had long, belled sleeves and the hem was too long.   But she put it on anyway, pulling it over the shift and truly pleased with the results. She tied off the tassel belt and went in search of her boots.

Then came the all-powerful question of finding the privy. She had to go badly but was torn; Kieran had warned her against straying from the room without him, especially in a public place.  Still, she just couldn’t sit around and wait for him. She had to find the privy or a chamber pot.

Bending over to pull the long hem of her dress from underneath her boot, she happened to catch sight of the chamber pot shoved far underneath the bed. Getting down on her knees, she pulled out what was quite possibly the most disgusting thing she had ever seen in her life.  With a groan, she looked around for anything resembling toilet paper but there was nothing available except for the cloth that had covered their food tray from the night before.  She took it, relieved herself quickly, cleaned up and threw the cloth back into the chamber pot and shoved it all back under the bed.  The whole process had been revolting, but she felt a thousand times better.

Kieran returned to the room mid-morning to find Rory packed, dressed and ready to leave. He entered the chamber, removing his leather gloves and surveying the scene like lord and master.  His gaze was especially warm on his wife, who was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.  She looked rested, refreshed and radiant in the gorgeous orange surcoat. He was a man in love all over again.

“Greetings, wife,” he smiled at her. “You look lovely this morning.”

She smiled brightly in return, dipping into a rather unpracticed curtsy. She ended up tipping over and laughing at her lack of coordination.

“I’m going to have to get better at that,” she chuckled.

He laughed heartily at her, moving to take her in his arms.She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. Kieran held her against him, picking her up off the ground.There was a fourteen inch difference in their height and her feet dangled off the floor as he cradled her.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured into the side of her head. “I am an extremely fortunate man.”

She squeezed him. “I bet you don’t think that when I’m sick and complaining.”

“Untrue. I think it all of the time,” he kissed her cheek, pulling back to look at her. “You look as if you feel better this morning.”

She nodded and he set her gently to her feet. “Much better,” she said. “It did me good to sleep about ten hours last night.”

He wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. “No doubt,” he looked at the packed and secured trunks. “I see that you are ready to leave. Did you do all this yourself?”

“Of course,” she replied, somewhat incensed that he didn’t think she could pack all by herself. “I didn’t know when you’d be back so I just packed everything up. Are we leaving?”

He nodded. “In time. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

He smiled at her. “Come along. I have a surprise for you.”

She took his offered hand and together, they left the chamber. At this hour of the morning, the tavern was fairly quiet but Kieran had the tavern keeper send a wench upstairs to stand outside the door and guard their possessions.  Kieran then took Rory outside into the clear and balmy day, escorting her next door.  It was a little shack of a shop but the most wonderful smells were coming forth.When they entered the leaning structure, Rory was hit in the face by the smell and warmth of baking bread. It was wonderful.

“Come,” Kieran took her over near a hearth with a small but warm fire blazing. There was a table and two chairs, and he called for the shopkeeper as he sat her down. After a few exchanged words, the man and his wife scrambled around, bringing forth trays of food.  Soon, Rory had a feast set in front of her and she was both thrilled and awed.

“Wow,” she breathed as tray after tray crowded the little table. “What is all of this?”

Kieran asked the man in French what kind of food had been presented. The man answered and Kieran translated.

“Scrambled eggs with cream and cheese, three different types of breads with spices and honey, eggs boiled in wine and fried pig’s skin.”

She immediately spied the pig’s skin; in any century, it looked the same – big, crispy dark pieces of crackling skin.  She picked one up, inspecting it.

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard of pork rinds being eaten in Medieval Europe,” she commented, smelling them.  Then she took a timid, crunchy bite and chewed. “It’s really good. It tastes like they’ve soaked it in brine or something really salty. Can you ask him?”

Kieran lifted an eyebrow at her as he asked the man how he prepared the rinds.  The man spoke eagerly in answer, smiling at Rory as he did so.  Kieran signed with annoyance as he translated.

“They are soaked in sea water to soften them and then boiled in fat,” he said. “May I eat now?”

She smiled happily. “Of course. Thank you, baby.”

Kieran grunted in response, plowing into the eggs and Rory knew she would have to eat quickly in order to stay ahead of him; the man had an enormous appetite. She went for the eggs with cream and cheese, and they were wonderful.  But she quickly discovered that they weren’t like modern eggs; they had a stronger flavor and a heavier texture. The cheese was very tart and strong but delicious. She had about a quarter of the plate before Kieran finished them off, but she beat him to the bread and tore off a big hunk of the bread with the cinnamon in it. With her bread in one hand and a pork rind in the other, she ate until she was stuffed.