Bliss(39)
Author: Lynsay Sands

"William," his brother answered.

"Me, too."

Instead of speaking, Stephen grunted in pain as the redheaded woman began to remove his bandage.

Hethe glanced toward his wife as she began to undo his bloodied wrappings as well, then he looked back to the redheaded woman.

"Who is she?" he asked curiously.

"My mother," Stephen answered through gritted teeth. The woman in question was poking and prodding at his wound.

"Oh. Pleasure to meet you," Hethe said politely. The redhead ignored him.

"She is mad at me," Stephen said, excusing her rudeness apologetically. Then, he added, "And you."

"Why me?" Hethe asked in dismay, hardly wincing as Helen began to examine his injury, so distracted was he with the news. Everyone always seems mad at me , he thought with irritation.

"She blames you for reopening my wound when I found you in the woods and brought you here."

"That was you?"

"Aye."

"Thankyou."

"You’re welcome."

They both fell silent then and cast sympathetic glances Goliath’s way as the dog whined. Joan continued cleaning his wound. Helen and Stephen’s mother began to re-bandage them, and Hethe tried to think of a way to broach the subject that had consumed so much of his thoughts since his discussion with William.

Finally, he just blurted, "So, I hear you’re my brother."

"Aye."

"That’s nice. Never had a brother before."

"We had another," Stephen pointed out sadly. They both glanced over at William’s body. For a moment they were both silent, recalling many memories – mostly good.

The sound of footsteps clomping up the hall preceded the entrance of two of the men who had been guarding Hethe earlier. Ducky was with them, and she directed them to the body. The two burly men considered the mess they were being forced to clean up. One of them muttered in disgust.’

"I wish…" Hethe cut the words off. It was useless to wish that things had been different, that he had known they were siblings, that he had recognized the depth of William’s need to make a name for himself. Perhaps if he had seen it, he might have helped him. Things might have ended differently.

"There was nothing you could do."

Hethe met Stephen’s understanding gaze and shrugged uncomfortably. The man knew him too well.

"William chose his own path," Stephen added quietly.

"Did he?" Hethe asked bitterly. "Do any of us?"

"Yes," his brother said firmly. "You chose yours… and have now chosen to change it." When Hethe glanced at him sharply, Stephen let a smile tug at his lips. "I have known you nearly all your life, Hethe.

And you have always carried a heavy mantle of rage about you. Some of that anger appears to have abated."

"Aye," Hethe agreed, his gaze turning to his lady wife who, along with Ducky, had turned their attention to cleaning up the mess on the floor. There was no doubt in his mind that Helen was the major reason behind the change in him.

"Well, William had his choices, too. He made the wrong ones. You, I think, have made the right one."

"Aye. I think I have, too," Hethe murmured. He cleared his throat and gave the man a crooked smile.

"So," he joked, attempting to lighten the mood. "I guess with William gone, that makes me your favorite brother."

Stephen gave a laugh that ended on a moan of pain as he touched his bandaged chest. Letting his breath out cautiously, he grimaced and glanced at Hethe. "So long as you do not order me to perform any more harsh punishments."

Hethe winced, knowing how it must have pained the man to carry them out. "I swear it."

Stephen nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in Hethe’s expression of combined guilt and apology. "Just how bad do you feel about what you put me through?"

Hethe’s eyes narrowed at the amused look that had suddenly entered the other man’s eyes. "Not enough for you to get away with whatever you’re planning."

"Ah, well." Stephen sighed with feigned regret. "I suppose you are my favorite brother, anyway."

The two men grinned at each other.

Hethe awoke slowly to a complete lack of pain and could hardly believe it. He was so used to blinding agony every time he opened his eyes, this was a feeling to be savored.

A rustle at his bedside made him glance to the left to find his wife there, fussing with his bandages. "What are you doing?" he murmured curiously.

She glanced at him briefly, then turned back to what she was doing. "I am preparing to change your dressing. We must get you healthy again so that you can run off and get yourself killed in battle for the king, mustn’t we?"

Hethe sighed at her sarcastic tone. So, she was holding the day he was shot against him. Well, he supposed he deserved it. Had he stayed at Tiernay, things might have turned out quite differently. Still, many good things had come of that ride.

Reaching out, he took her hand and drew her to sit on the edge of the bed. "You need not fear that happening ever again. In fact, it would not have happened that day. I was intending to return. I have given up running; I shall fight no more except in defense of my home."

Her gaze narrowed on him suspiciously. "Truly?"

"Aye. In fact, that is probably what saved my life. I was turning back to Tiernay when William loosed his arrow. Elsewise, I am sure he would have hit my heart. The man was an excellent shot," he told her, then sighed. "I meant it when I said I love you. I do. I realized that on my ride that day. I also realized that I was running, as you said. But from my own anger, and you cannot run away from yourself. So in the future, while I might need to go for a walk or ride once in a while to let my temper cool, I will never run off to battle again. In fact, the king may have trouble getting me to fight at all anymore. Because I love you."

"Oh!" Helen released her breath on a sigh, and leaned down to kiss him. "I love you too, my lord. You are a very special man."

Smiling, Hethe kissed her, putting considerable passion into it. His wife relaxed against him with a sigh, only to pull away and glare at the man who had been asleep beside her husband when she had entered, but who was now trying to slip undetected out of the bed. "What are you doing, Stephen?"

"Oh. I, er, thought you had forgotten I was here," he admitted with embarrassment.

"Well, I had not," she assured him. "Lie down, sir. You will be reopening that wound again do you not, and then your mother will have fifteen fits. Besides," she added with a laugh, "Hethe is too weak to do anything untoward."

"I will never be too weak for that, wife," he said, squeezing her hand. "Never in a million years."

Epilogue

"J-ohn, f-ive bales… hay. Gee-orge four – " Hethe lowered the scroll with disgust and scowled at his wife. Not that she noticed. She lay on the fur next to him, flat on her back, dressed only in her chemise, her eyes closed and her face tipped up to the sun, a sweet smile curving her lips.

His expression softened. Life had changed amazingly since their marriage. And not just for him. The people of Holden were happy now. All fear had left them, and they were as content and relaxed as their lord.

Helen and Hethe had split their time between Holden and Tiernay, enjoying their stays at each.

Strangely, if anyone asked, Hethe would have had to say that, of the two castles, he preferred his childhood home to Tiernay. Holden no longer resembled the cold, stark castle of his youth. Helen had set her hand to turning it into a home. Colorful tapestries splashed the walls there now. The great hall’s once-bare tables sported linens, and the floor’s rushes had flowers strewn in them to add a sweet scent to the air. She had made the place seem cozy.

Besides, Hethe enjoyed spending time there getting to know Stephen as his brother.

While Helen’s aunt, Lady Shambleau, acted as chatelaine during their absence from Tiernay, Hethe had reinstated Stephen as chatelain again at Holden. He was perfect for the position, especially now that he was no longer forced to perform mutilations or other cruel punishments. The man’s mother had even moved back to the village.

A bark drew Hethe’s attention to the river’s edge. Goliath was splashing along the shoreline, barking excitedly at the ducks paddling further out. The animal, like his master, had healed completely from the wound William had caused.

"You have stopped reading."

Hethe scowled down at his wife and complained, " ‘Tis boring."

"I know ’tis boring, but we cannot always read fun things like Beowulf," she said. With a grin, she reminded him cheerfully, "Besides, you need read only five more entries and I will remove my chemise."

Hethe peered over her in the skimpy undergarment, imagining her nak*d under the sun, then turned back to his list with renewed enthusiasm. His wife had decided to teach him to read. It was an effort on her part to be sure that no one could ever again take advantage of him as William had. Hethe agreed. He didn’t want anything of the like occurring again, either. The people of Holden were now as plump, happy and apple-cheeked as the people of Tiernay. He intended on making sure they remained that way.

Actually, learning to read this time around was not the chore it had been when he was a child. Helen made it a pleasure. She never criticized or cursed him. She encouraged and aided him. She also had an amazing motivational technique, he thought as he read the fifth entry.

Lowering the list, he expectantly turned to watch his wife.

Her smile widened; she knew that he was looking. She stretched languidly, then sat up. Getting to her feet, she turned to face him, then slowly, painfully – for Hethe at least – bent to grasp the hem of her chemise and draw it up her body. Hethe ogled her calves, her knees, her thighs. His gaze paused, and he almost groaned as her delicate triangle of golden curls came into view. His eyes rose to the hem of the gown again, and he found himself licking his lips as she skimmed it up over her br**sts. She pulled it over her head, held it out to the side and very deliberately let it drop.

Hethe swallowed hard as she eased back down on the fur again, a veritable feast laid out before him.

She closed her eyes and squirmed deliciously in the warm breeze, then sighed and said, "Only five more entries and you can remove them."

Hethe blinked at that reminder, then glanced down at himself. His tunic had gone several entries ago.

Now he sat leaning against the tree trunk in only his breeches. Five lines and he could remove them. Then the lesson would truly get interesting. He turned his gaze back to the Tiernay accounts, and ran through four more entries in rapid order. He was reading the fifth when her hand on his waist made him pause.

Glancing up, he took in her slow smile and almost sighed with anticipatory pleasure.

"Keep reading," she instructed, trailing her fingers across his stomach, watching curiously as the muscles there rippled in response.

He repeated the entry he had been reading before she touched him, his voice going husky as she began to run her hands lightly over his chest. He started on the fifth line. "J-ohn-son. Six… oh, God." He groaned as her fingers slid down and found the bulge of his manhood through his breeches.

"Six oh-Gods?" Helen asked with amusement, releasing him and untying the laces of his breeches.

Sighing, he opened the eyes he had squeezed closed and quickly scanned the page before his nose, knowing that if he stopped for too long, she would stop as well. He didn’t want that. She was a wonderful teacher, he thought with a smile, lifting his h*ps to help her as she removed his leggings, leaving him as nak*d as she.

"Six?" she prompted, setting his leggings aside, and Hethe forced himself to focus.

Six… six… six. Six what? Make something up , he thought frantically, eager for the return of her hands on his flesh.

"Six bales of hay," he said quickly and relaxed as she returned to running her hands over his skin. Then he forced himself to look over the lists seriously. But it was impossible to concentrate. He lowered the accounts again.

"How many?" he asked, his voice husky and strained.

"How many what?" his wife asked innocently, her hand sliding along his hip.

"How many entries must I read before I can touch you?"

A slow smile slid across her face, then she arched an eyebrow. "Why do we not try a new method?"

"New?" He eyed her with interest.

"Aye. You can touch me so long as you keep reading."

Bull’s-eye, Hethe thought happily, a grin breaking out on his face as he reached for her. But she caught his hand before he could touch her warm skin and nodded toward the list. "Read."

His grin dissipated somewhat but didn’t die as he glanced back at the list. Holding the sheet in his left hand, he began to read again, even as his other hand felt for her. He found her shoulder at the end of the first entry, followed it down to her breast with the second, and was cupping and kneading it as he read the third. Then his voice broke. She had started to touch him again. Her hand was on his staff, warm and firm.

Clearing his throat, he continued on, only to pause abruptly when she leaned forward, her lips closing over his erection. Dear God in heaven, she was a wondrous teacher, he thought happily. She was a marvelous student, as well. Her technique had improved amazingly this last year. She no longer nibbled on him like he was an ear of corn; she –

Helen stopped suddenly and raised her head to peer at him. "You have ceased reading again."

"Nay," he lied glibly. "I was reading to myself. You did not say it had to be aloud when we made this bargain," he pointed out. Chuckling at the vexed expression which filled her face, he tossed the list aside and pulled her onto his lap.

Helen sighed as her husband’s mouth covered hers. For one brief moment, she considered breaking away and forcing him to return to his reading, but he had done well today. Besides, she really didn’t want him to stop. She was as eager for this as he was, she admitted as he tumbled her onto her back and covered her.