Bliss(27)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Hethe leaned back and groaned as she caressed him, letting the window covering fall back into place.

Helen immediately slipped between him and the curtain, and she began to press kisses to his chest as she did. She wanted to do for him what he had done for her, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Deciding it couldn’t hurt to try, she dropped to her knees before him and began to press kisses to his elongating shaft. For a moment she released her hold on it, though, and it popped up and hit her on the nose.

Frowning, she grabbed the tip again to hold it steady while she nibbled along the side as if on an ear of corn. Hethe’s shudder made her think she was doing it right, but after another moment, she noticed that the fleshy cob was shrinking.

Choked noises from above sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter. Pausing, she tipped her head up to peer at him, feeling foolish and useless when she realized that he was, indeed, laughing. She wasn’t doing this right.

"Come here," Hethe murmured, obviously containing his amusement. Grabbing Helen’s arm, he urged her to her feet before him and hugged her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then tipped her face up and kissed her lips. "Thankyou."

"For what?" she asked unhappily. "I did it wrong."

"Nay, you just need a little practice," he assured her quickly.

"Shall I try again?" She pulled back to peer up at him. "If you told me what I was doing wrong, I could – "

"Another time," he murmured, then again draw her nearer. "Believe it or not, I have other things I must do."

"Stephen?" she asked quietly.

"Aye."

She was silent for a moment, her fingers moving absently over his hip. "But no one came to wake us.

Does not that mean he is not returned?"

"Aye. But there are other things to tend to as well. I have apparently neglected Holden for too long. I needs must find out if there is anything else that has gone awry while I was… absent."

Releasing her, Hethe turned and walked around the bed to collect his tunic and breeches. Straightening with them in his hands, he caught her yawning and faintly smiled. Seeing his amusement, Helen was suddenly aware that she must look a mess – with her hair all over the place.

Hethe dropped his tunic on the bed and began to pull on his breeches. "You are still tired. You should sleep a bit longer."

"Nay. I am hungry," Helen announced as he finished with his breeches and picked up his tunic. "I will dress and follow you below."

Hethe grunted in answer, tugging on his tunic, then straightening it about himself. He glanced her way again. "I will send Mary up to you, first. Your rash is nearly gone, but another application of her ointment may be a good idea."

"Hmm." Helen nodded in agreement as he collected his sword belt and dirk and moved toward the door.

She slid out of the bed as soon as the door closed behind him and went in search of a fresh chemise from the sack she had brought from Tiernay. She would wait for Mary, but would not take the time to have any more salve applied to her. That would have to wait until later. She was going to have something to eat, no matter what he said. She was absolutely famished. Starved. She felt as if she had not eaten for days. This being married business was hard work. Well, maybe not work, exactly. Not like running a keep. Smiling to herself, she began to dress.

"When do you think we will be leaving?"

Hethe grimaced at his first’s question as he lifted his mug to drink. William had assured him that Stephen had not yet returned, else he would have fetched him as ordered. Certainly there was no sign of his second’s return. Hethe was finding the man’s absence worrisome as it was and now, considering his first’s question, he sighed. He knew William would not be pleased with the answer. Where Hethe had always accepted battle as a necessary evil, a handy excuse to avoid a castle full of sad memories, William truly reveled in war. He would likely not be pleased to learn that Hethe intended to remain at Holden, to become the administrative lord he should have been years before.

"I have heard there is still trouble on the border," William said. "We could go up there and see if anyone needs our assistance."

"That is just rumor," Hethe said quietly, then cleared his throat and added, "It has come to my attention that I have been neglecting my duties here at Holden. It is time I took care of things, including my new wife. Besides, there will be peace for a while now."

William frowned, but overall took the news better than Hethe expected, merely nodding unhappily.

Perhaps the man was mellowing…

"Actually, you should consider marriage, William. You are not growing any younger," Hethe began. He nearly burst out laughing at the horrified expression that twisted William’s face in answer.

Helen shifted fretfully and walked to the window to pull its covering aside and peer out. She was fully dressed now and had been for some time. She had even brushed out her long hair and fixed it atop her head. As she waited, her gaze moved slowly over the sunny bailey below and the people in it. A moment later, she let the covering fall back into place and turned away to pace toward the bed. Her gaze moved distractedly over its rumpled linens.

Mary still hadn’t arrived, and Helen was growing impatient worse, she was hungry . Spinning away from the bed, she returned to the window. She should just go below and find the girl. She could tell the woman there as well as here that she would rather eat before having any more salve applied – if she even needed it applied again.

Deciding she would give the woman another few moments, she again tugged the window’s drapes aside, and leaned out to breathe in deeply of the fresh air. It was a beautiful day, but though the sun was shining brightly and there was only a slight breeze, she could smell rain in the air. A glance at the tree leaves in the courtyard below showed they were turning, preparing for a downpour. Aye, it would rain soon.

Helen was about to let the window covering slide back into place when a sight below made her pause.

A man was crossing the bailey, and for one brief moment she thought it was her husband, but then realized it was Sir William. The two men truly were very similar in shape and form, she thought vaguely.

As she watched, a shout made William pause and turn back to wait for someone. Which made Helen lean further out the window and peer down toward the keep doors to see whom it had been.

Hethe! He started across the bailey toward William. Helen’s gaze slid from one warrior to the other before she decided they were not so similar after all. Hethe was taller, a little wider, and had a proud bearing his first could not match, though the two men did have the same long-legged stride.

The sound of the bedchamber door opening drew Helen’s glance to see Mary slipping inside. The girl hurried to her side.

"I am sorry I took so long, my lady. I had to send a messenger down to the village to – "

" ‘Tis all right." Helen waved away the apology and glanced back outside at her husband crossing the bailey below. "I have decided I do not wish to put any salve on again until later if I must. I – "

She had been watching Hethe, but a sudden movement off to his side caught her eye. Peering closer, she saw it was a small wagon cart. But there was something wrong with the cart. The horse hooked up to it appeared to have gone mad. He was wildly rearing and pawing the air.

"Actually, I do not think you need the salve again," Helen heard vaguely as the healer examined her arm.

"I think the one treatment may have been enough."

Helen hardly processed the words; her gaze was frozen on the scene outside. In the next moment, the vague alarm that had been forming in the back of her mind exploded into true fear. The cart horse slammed its hooves to the ground and charged forward as if all the demon’s of hell were chasing it – headed directly for Hethe. Couldn’t he hear it coming? Her stomach lurching, Helen grasped the edge of the window and leaned out to shout a warning.

"What is it?" Mary asked, squeezing up to the window beside her as Hethe turned to glance up at where they stood. The healer spotted the trouble at once and breathed the words, "Dear God."

Ignoring her, Helen waved frantically, trying to turn Hethe’s attention to his immediate danger. At the last second he spun the way she was gesturing only a bare moment before the damn horse would have run right over him. He had just enough time to throw himself to the side in an effort to avoid the horse and wagon, and he did save himself from the worst of it, but he couldn’t avoid injury entirely.

Helen heard herself scream as she saw him knocked to the side. Then she whirled away from the window and raced from the room. Mary was right behind as they flew down the stairs and charged across the hall to the doors leading to the bailey.

A large crowd had gathered by the time Helen and Mary got to Hethe. Several people were standing silently in a circle. The two women had to push their way through to reach him. Sir William was already kneeling at his master’s side, pale-faced and almost appearing to hold his breath as he stared down at him.

Ignoring the mud, Helen dropped to her knees on one side of her husband, while Mary urged William out of the way on the other. Both women peered down at Hethe breathlessly. His chest was rising and falling steadily, but his eyes were closed. Leaning forward, Mary quickly examined him. There was a cut on his forehead and a bump forming around it.

"There is another lump at the back of his head." Mary announced, and Helen winced. One was no doubt from hitting the horse, the other from hitting the ground. She took a deep breath and waited as Mary hurriedly completed her examination.

"His right leg also appears to be swelling, but I don’t think it is broken," the young healer reported.

"He must have twisted it while attempting to get out of the way," Helen murmured, squeezing Hethe’s hand between her own anxiously.

"Is he… ?" William could not even finish the question.

"Nay. He will be fine," Mary said with calm confidence. It reassured Helen, and when she heard William release a pent-up breath she glanced up sympathetically at the man. She knew exactly how he felt. She had been holding her breath, too. How surprising that she had come to care for this man, she thought in an oddly detached way. This man who had been her enemy for so long.

"We should get him inside," Mary directed, and glanced around.

Had she thought about it, Helen would have expected several of Hethe’s men to step forward, to take his arms and legs and tend to the matter. None of his soldiers were about, however, and none of the serfs and villeins making up the crowd around them appeared to want to offer their assistance. Her husband was not the most popular person at Holden… thanks to Stephen.

The situation didn’t bother William, however. He merely bent and lifted Hethe into his arms with a grunt, then started back to the keep.

Scrambling to their feet, Helen and Mary hurried after him. Once they neared the main door, Helen rushed ahead to open one. Much to her relief, Mary jumped forward as well to tug open the other, and William did not even have to slow or turn sideways to carry Hethe’s limp form into the keep.

"I shall just fetch my medicinals and follow you," Mary called out and disappeared.

Helen scampered ahead of William and hurried up the stairs to get the master bedchamber door open for him. The knight stumbled into the room behind her and went straight to the bed. He nearly collapsed there, dropping to his knees to set Hethe on the bed.

"Thankyou, William. Are you all right?" Helen asked.

Sucking air into his lungs, he nodded. He rose slowly, then moved aside as Mary burst into the room to join them.

Helen helped the healer as much as she could, assisting in undressing Hethe and helping to wash the blood away from his two head wounds. There didn’t appear to be any other injuries needing binding. As far as she could tell, the injury to his lower leg was only a twisted ankle.

When they finished, she helped cover Hethe up and sat on the bed to hold his hand unhappily as Mary prepared a tincture for the pain for when he woke up.

If he woke up, Helen thought, then chastised herself for such gloomy thinking. She supposed that a day or so ago she would have hoped for just that, that Hethe would not wake up. It would have been extremely handy for a woman who didn’t wish to be married to him. But Helen’s feelings had changed somewhat. The man she was coming to know as Hethe of Holden, and the man she had known as the Hammer, were not the same man. The man who lay in the bed had withstood some rather mean efforts by her to avoid marriage, all with good cheer and little retribution. At least, she supposed, he hadn’t done anything to her she didn’t deserve.

Hethe, the Hammer of Holden, the man of those tales, the cruel bastard who ordered children’s hands cut off and women’s br**sts removed, would never have withstood her pranks so well, she was sure. In fact, she had thought she was taking her life in her hands when first she had resolved herself to flouting his will. Yet, he had not hit her – or even threatened to – once.

Too, he was a sweet and gentle lover. Surely the man she had thought he was would not be like that.

There was definitely something wrong, and she was beginning to believe that Hethe’s second had truly behaved without sanction. But when she thought of the young, red-haired man in question she had trouble accepting that, too.

A groan from the bed drew her gaze, and Helen leaned closer as her husband’s eyes opened.

"My lord?" she murmured, eyeing him with concern as he winced and drew in a long, hissing breath.

"My head," he moaned.

Mary was immediately there, tincture in hand. Helen helped her pull Hethe into a seated position, then watched silently as the healer urged him to drink. Her husband grimaced at the taste but swallowed the potion dutifully, then glanced at Helen as Mary took the mug away.

"What happened?"

"Do you not recall?" she asked anxiously, worried about damage to his brain. He had been thrown some distance.

He peered at her blankly for a moment; then his confusion suddenly cleared. "The horse cart."

"Aye," Helen breathed her relief.

"What… Why?" he asked.