Finally in early afternoon of the fourth day, they topped a rise, and there below them was the manor of Ashlin on a near hill. Elf’s heart beat faster, and with great happiness, for sometimes in the darkest night she had wondered if ever she would see her home again. At the look upon her beautiful face, Ranulf reached out and took his wife’s hand in his for a moment, squeezing it gently. Their eyes met, and she smiled.
"Simon will not recognize me," she said.
"You will not recognize him," he told her. "When I left to go to Normandy, he was not even two months old. When I returned just at Christ’s Mass, he was seven months old. I was astounded. It was as if I were being shown a different child. It will affect you the same way, I am thinking, petite. He pulls himself up now, and stands. He crawls, and he says all manner of babble, which his nurses pretend to understand. Although, all I can ever make out clearly is the word
Da,
which he says when he sees me." He chuckled. "He is quite a child, petite. Do not fret if he is strange with you at first, for that is only to be expected. He has not seen you in several months, but he will soon warm to you again, and probably never know or even remember that he was once separated from you." He raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it. "Tonight, petite, we will begin the arduous process of making a brother for Simon. Ashlin must have more than one son." He released her small hand from his, and smiled into her eyes.
"I need a daughter," she said boldly.
"We will do our best to arrange for that, too," he assured her with a broad grin.
Elf laughed, and together, their men behind them, they came down from the hills to Ashlin. Their serfs were plowing in the fields, but once they saw the lady of Ashlin, they cried joyously and came running to greet her. Those who recognized Arwydd, however, glared darkly in her direction. They knew well the part she had played in Elf’s abduction, for old Ida’s tongue had not been idle, and the elderly woman was respected among her peers. Arwydd shivered at the black looks being sent her way, instinctively pressing her mount closer to Sim's.
"Don't look to me for protection," he said to her. "I agree with them. If I were the lord, I should have sent you packing."
"You know nothing of me," Arwydd snapped at him. "You have lived your whole life safe and secure here at Ashlin. You know little of true evil or wickedness. I do. I will never betray our lady Eleanore again. It broke my heart to do so before, but I was afraid of what they would do to me if I did not obey them. Now I am free of the lady Isleen and the lord Merin. I will endeavor to win the trust of all at Ashlin, even if it takes me a lifetime." Then, straightening her backbone, Arwydd sat up in her saddle, her eyes focused ahead.
"It may take a lifetime with some," he said. "The lady is beloved of us all."
"I know," Arwydd replied meaningfully.
"I'll be watching you," Sim said, "to make certain you don't deceive us again."
"If you watch me too closely," Arwydd said, not looking at him, "you'll make your wife jealous."
"I have no wife," Sim said.
"Because no girl will have such a rough fellow as yourself, I imagine," Arwydd responded. "Oh, Mary, Mother of God, protect me! There is that old Ida, and she is the one I truly fear."
Sim chuckled. "You're wise, lass, for she'll not hesitate to put a knife between your ribs given the chance. She may be old, but she’s as fierce as any warrior in his prime, old Ida."
"My lady! My lady!" Old Ida cried as Elf was lifted down from her mare. She clutched the young woman to her scrawny bosom weeping. "Praise God, His Blessed Mother, and all the angels in heaven, you have come home safe to us!"
Elf comforted her weeping nursemaid as best she could. "I was never really in any danger, Ida. I was well treated, I promise you. Now, I want to see my son."
It was at that moment the old lady, relinquishing her hold on Elf, let out a screech, leaping back like a scalded cat and pointing a bony finger.
"What is she doing here?"
Ida advanced on a pale-faced Arwydd. "What is this deceitful Welsh bitch doing here? Have you come back then to destroy the whole family this time, wench? Someone give me a knife! I will kill her now before she can do us any further harm!"
Elf stepped between Arwydd and her outraged nursemaid and explained as she had to Sim and to Ranulf.
"Your heart is too good, lady," Ida said grimly. "I do not trust the Welsh. She will be trouble," the old woman predicted darkly.
"There will be no trouble,"
Elf said sternly. "Do you all understand me? This girl protected Ashlin’s heir. For that I am eternally grateful. She is under my protection. Any who harms her by word or deed will have to answer to me. Remember that I am the lady here!"
Arwydd suddenly knelt before Ida and, looking up at the old woman with tear-filled eyes, pleaded, "Please, Ida, forgive me the wrong I have done the Ashlin folk!"
"Clever baggage," the old woman muttered, glowering down at Arwydd. "You will have to earn my forgiveness, wench, but I will not speak against you to the others. That, at least, your pretty plea has gained you."
Arwydd scrambled to her feet and hurried after Elf, who was already entering her home. Alyce came forward carrying her little charge in her arms. Elf felt the tears sliding down her cheeks as she took her son into her arms. His hair was her own pale red-gold, but Simon de Glandeville looked at his mother with his father’s warm hazel eyes. Elf kissed the child passionately until he protested and squirmed away from her, holding out his arms to Alyce.
Elf laughed. "Oh, Simon," she said to him, "you must forgive your mama. I have missed you so very much, and missed so much of you,
bébé.
But they tell me you will never know of this separation, and within a short time you will be used to your mama again." She kissed the top of his head, and handed the little boy off to Alyce. "Thank you," she said to the young serf who had cared so faithfully for her son.
"Maris fed him, lady, and still does," Alyce said blushing with her mistress’s praise.
"Tell her she must continue to do so, as my milk has been dried away now," Elf responded.
"My lady! Welcome home!"
"Cedric!" Elf held out her hands to her steward, smiling.
He took her hands, and pressed them to his heart a moment, then stood back to allow John the bailiff and Fulk to come forward. They both greeted her happily. Elf thanked them both for their care of Ashlin in her absence.
"Sim," she told Fulk, "was very brave, and did well in the face of adversity. You may be proud of your kin, Fulk. I promise you that the next time you advise me, I shall listen well."
Fulk’s eyes grew visibly misty. "Thank you, my lady," he said, grateful she did not hold him responsible for her captivity.
"I'll want a bath after the meal," Elf announced as they seated themselves at the high board.
The meal was served, and Elf ate with relish, particularly of the roasted meats and the greens, which had been few and far between at Gwynfr, whose cook it seemed boiled everything to mush. There was even a sweet pudding of boiled wheat, milk, sugar, cinnamon, dried apples, and raisins. She practically licked her wooden bowl clean, swallowing down the last of her sweet wine with a sigh.
"It would seem," her husband noted, "that the kitchens of the Welshman left much to be desired. Do you want the rest of my pudding?"
Without a word Elf switched bowls with him, and scooped up the remainder of the pudding with a mischievous grin. "I was hungry for sweets," she said.
"So am I," he replied, his hazel eyes twinkling, and she giggled. It was a wonderful sound, he thought. "Go and bathe, petite."
"Let us bathe together, Ranulf, my dear lord," she invited him, and her glance was warm. "We have both been on the road for several long days… and nights. I believe we would find the water salubrious." She arose from the high board and, walking to the door leading to the solar, turned to look seductively at him. Then she was gone.
A feeling, unfamiliar to him these last months, rippled through his large frame. His member actually tingled in anticipation, then began to harden with lust. He drained his cup slowly, making a small attempt to bring himself under control. He had waited for this night for months. He would not spoil it with undue haste. Willa and Arwydd came from the solar, giggling. They had once been friends, and now Elf’s approval of Arwydd restored, Willa saw no reason to hold a grudge. The two young women had taken up where they had left off.
"Lady says you are to join her, my lord," Willa said.
"And we're not to return until morning," Arwydd added.
He grinned at them conspiratorially evoking another burst of giggles from the two girls. He walked across the hall to the solar and barred the door behind him. Turning, he caught his breath in surprise. She awaited him as naked as the day she had been born. He closed his eyes briefly as he felt his hunger for her welling up once again.
"My lord," she murmured low. "Let me help you to undress so we may have our lovely bath. The water is perfect, warm and just lightly scented with the fragrance of flowers." She drew him over to a stool. "Sit, please, so I may remove your boots."
He sat, not certain if he should be shocked by her boldness. What had happened to his innocent Eleanore? Was it possible that Merin ap Owen- He pushed the suspicion away. The one thing he could be certain of was that his wife had been faithful to him in her captivity. Had she not, she would either have killed herself or told him of it and begged his forgiveness. Besides, why was he concerned that she was so suddenly deliciously impudent? Was it not for his pleasure? His eyes caressed her round little bottom as she bent to pull off his boots. Then she drew off his stockings.
"Please to rise, my lord," she instructed him. Kneeling she slipped his braies down and slid her hands beneath his tunics and chemise to caress his naked flesh, fondling his bare bottom with kneading fingers. She rolled the fabric of the braies down his legs, smoothing his calves as she did so. "Foot," she said, tapping his left foot so he would lift it. Then the right foot. Sitting back on her haunches, she folded the braies and set them on the stool.
Standing again, Elf smiled teasingly up into his face. Then she went about the business of removing his outer tunic, and the two undertunics he wore. Now Ranulf was clad only in his linen chemise. His raging manhood thrust the soft material forward. Licking her lips with her tongue in a provocative fashion, Elf slowly unlaced the garment, her hands pushing it open, smoothing over his broad chest, sliding the garment off his shoulders so that it fell to the floor. "Now," she said, "we are equal, my lord," and bending her head she stroked his warm flesh with her wet tongue, teasing at his nipples until he thought his head would burst and his loins explode with their raging desire for her.
Ranulf drew her up and wrapped his arms about her. His lips played softly over her lips.
"What,"
he demanded, "has happened to the little innocent I married?" Then, before she might answer him, he kissed her hard as their bodies pressed together heatedly.
Elf knew she was yet in control, but she was half-conscious with the pleasure his lips offered.
Too long!
Too long, she thought muzzily. Her breasts were molded tightly against his chest. The heat from his body was utterly intoxicating. His manhood was like iron against her belly. His thighs were like rock. Her lips softened and parted just slightly beneath his. His tongue played with her tongue, sending shivers of delight and anticipation up and down her spine. Finally she drew her head away from him. "The water will grow cold if we do not bathe soon, but our desire, I think, will continue to remain hot, my love."
His hazel eyes were overflowing with his passion, but he released her and climbed up the steps into the tall oaken tub by the fire. Then reaching out he lifted her in with him. Elf took up the sea sponge and filled it with liquid soap. Then she began to wash him, rubbing the sponge over his back and his chest, down his arms, across his shoulders, around his neck. She took a small soft cloth to wash his face, then his ears. The sponge dipped beneath the water to wash what she could not see. Ranulf gritted his teeth and bore her delicious ministrations. On her command he dipped himself beneath the warm water to rinse. Then it was his turn.
Taking the sponge from her, he renewed the soft soap and rubbed across her back and shoulders, laving water with his big hand to rinse her silken skin. Laying the sponge aside on the ledge of the tub for a moment, he slipped an arm about her and drew her back against him. He kissed the nape of her neck softly, nibbling lightly at the tiny curls springing forth where her long hair was pinned up.
"Delicious," he murmured against her skin, then he nipped the flesh and laughed softly when she squealed, pressing her bottom against his groin.
"Witch," he told her, taking up the sponge again in his free hand. He encircled first one breast, rubbing lightly over the soft mound, slipping the sponge between her two breasts, and then moving on to the other. He could see the effect he was having upon her, for her little nipples thrust themselves forward, peaking hard. His hand moved beneath the water to smooth firmly over her Venus mont, cupping it.
Elf sighed with pleasure. She wanted this to go on forever and ever. Then to her surprise he pushed her firmly against the wall of the tub, pulling her thighs apart and bending her slightly. She felt the head of his manhood seeking her love channel, and then he was filling her full of himself. "Oh, Ranulf!" she murmured.
"I could wait no longer," he whispered in her ear. "Follow my rhythm, petite. There will be more afterward, I promise you!" His loins began to move against her, and Elf instinctively pushed her buttocks back against his strong thrusts. Her head was beginning to spin with delight as she felt the strongly pulsing, pulsing cadence of his manhood within her. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he held her steady, pressing deeper and deeper within her wet and burning softness. Elf could feel her husband growing thicker and more demanding of her. She whimpered her pleasure, needing him so desperately she thought she would die. And then their combined passions exploded in a crescendo of boiling juices that crowned his manhood and flooded her heart and body with joy.