Aurora Rose Lynn (3 page)

The Hidden Observer watched in fascination from a crack in the stone wall as the plump maid knelt in front of
Celestine. His Treasure stood in unrelieved naked profile to him. Her ass looked like a ripe peach bursting with juice and begging to be harvested from the tree. She lured him without a word just by squeezing her small breasts together and stroking her budded nipples with the pads of her fingers. She tilted her head back, her lips slightly parted, her eyes shielded by feathered eyelashes and her hair spilling down her back to end at her knees. He could only imagine how wet she must be.

The maid, rot her soul, didn’t even blush as she leaned forward, wrapped her arms around
Celestine’s buttocks and reached her fingers to his Treasure’s clit from behind. Celestine shifted, edging her legs wider apart. His heart thundered in his ears. Would his Treasure hear his heart calling out to hers?

A groan escaped
Celestine’s lips as the maid slid her palm between her legs. Moments later, she sluiced a wet path down the inside of Celestine’s thigh. It didn’t take much for him to imagine what the maid was up to – stretching Celestine’s pussy lips apart and searching for the tiny nub of hardened pleasure. How he ached to find that spot with his strong fingers as she lay sideways on the bed with her glorious dark silky mass of hair hanging down to the floor. Her legs would be wide open so he could see the pink flesh surrounded by dark hair and even perhaps the hole of her ass. She would never again be able to hide anything like this from him. His pleasure would be hers – he would make certain of that.

His fledgling erection grew as he watched the maid, emitting tiny gasps, explore between
Celestine’s thighs. She thrust her hips forward, grinding against the maid’s fingers. He reached under his homespun woolen tunic and touched his engorged penis, aching to take Celestine into his arms, to show her what pleasure truly meant, even if he had to do so, at first, against her protests.

He had listened in the lord’s chamber as she objected to wedding an old man and yet, here she was, a hypocrite of the worst sort, seeking the attention of a woman twice her age. Wouldn’t
Celestine rather have a young buck at her beck and call, to teach her the delights of what a man and woman were capable of? He took firm hold of his hard cock and started briskly pumping. Soon, the lady Celestine would be his. Every luscious, satin inch of her.

Kerrich observed the woman in a gray-blue skirt, her face lacking expression, hurrying towards him as he arranged colored ribbons, silk thread in a rainbow of shades, and wools for embroidery side by side on his cart. As a peddler, he could pick up and leave whenever he chose which suited his purpose of staying hidden perfectly. Villagers milled around, drinking mead and talking in low tones with occasional laughter bursting out. A few feet away, his chestnut-brown horse stamped its hooves restlessly under the shelter of a tree whose leaves were beginning to unfurl. Kerrich backhanded the sweat from his forehead. The first of May had become warmer than expected and the sun beat down relentlessly on his dark golden curls.

It was time to move on. He had stayed in this part of Mercia far too long and he couldn’t figure out why since he usually moved on every few days or so. Then there was less likelihood that he’d be found out. Tomorrow he would vanish again. No one questioned a poorly dressed peddler.

The woman came to an abrupt halt. Her ample breasts heaved up and down under her tunic.

“What ware might you be interested in?” he asked, doubting she was interested in anything he had to sell. There was something about her that seemed familiar yet at the same time, frightened him.

“I have no intention of buying any of your wares, Kerrich. I know you’re a stranger,” she said, her eyes burning into his. “I need a favor of you.”

“I am in no position to grant favors,” he replied hoarsely, wiping his sweaty palms along his thighs. He quelled the surprise he felt that she knew his name and turned back to his task to place silver spoons next to knives carved with intricate patterns, which the villages prized. Could she possibly know who he really was? Did she have that other sense that belonged in the ethereal realm more than it belonged with flesh and blood? Why couldn’t she just leave, taking whatever foolish notion she had encumbered herself with?

She seemed to take no offense at his barely-civil tone. “You are aware the feast of Beltane, a celebration of the old ways, has come upon us. I have a lady who is in need of a service only a stranger can provide.”

Offering his wares to a lady caught his attention. Perhaps tonight he would find refuge in a castle and a dry place to rest his head as he slept. “Which lady are you talking about?” he asked gruffly.

“You need not go to her. She will come to you as the fates will.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He had never heard of a lady seeking out a common peddler. More often than not, ladies of a castle or manor house were imperious and demanded that they be catered to hand and foot, by commoner and noble alike. It crossed his mind that the woman might be playing some kind of mind game with him. Why didn’t she find someone else to pester?

“Only that the lady will come to you.
No need to trouble yourself further.”

That didn’t sound like something he wanted to be a part of. Perhaps it was best to forget about sleeping with a roof over his head tonight and getting a hot meal, something he hadn’t had in over a year now. He ate like the birds, gathering their food where they could and quickly hastening it down their throats. He couldn’t take the risk that he
would be found out. The remainder of his life depended on being free for the next two days and not drawing unwanted attention to himself.

Uneasiness that she knew his name rippled through him. “I’ve never heard of a lady visiting a lowly peddler. What does she want?
A pretty bauble? A dainty ribbon for her hair? Why don’t you pick one up for her? I’ve got quite a selection,” he finished, fanning a hand over his wares to draw her attention to the display.

“This woman lacks for nothing in the way of baubles and ribbons. She wants a little more than that.”

“Then I’m not the one she’s looking for. What more could a woman want?” he asked, brushing away his troubled thoughts. He had to stay free.

“A woman can want a lot more. Perhaps you will be in need of a favor yourself one day soon.”

His nerves were as taut as any rope a tightrope walker balanced on. “Who are you?” he demanded. He craved a cup of cold river water to quench his thirst. The sun caught the woman in a circle, casting light around her head. For a second, he thought she looked almost to be a goddess. He shrugged off the ridiculous notion. There were no such things as spiritual beings like gods and goddesses. Those notions were best left for the faint of heart or those who needed to feel they belonged in the vast scheme of things. He didn’t believe in those things, not after seeing his family killed without mercy. Where had these gods and goddesses been when he needed them the most? He numbed the hurt.

“Let’s just say I’m one with the trees that whisper their secrets to each other on the breeze.” Her eyes gave away nothing of her emotions.

“You know not what you speak of,” he said hoarsely. Either the woman was a witch or a goddess. He couldn’t tell which. If she was a witch, she could curse him and cause his dream of freedom to slip from his grasp. On the other hand, if she was a goddess, she might see fit to bless his longing for freedom.

Her face remained expressionless. “The fact remains that the lady is in need of your services. Will you help her out or will you force my hand into revealing what the trees whisper about you, Kerrich?”

He sighed. The woman had to be a goddess or a witch. How had she come to know his name when he kept that knowledge to himself? If his secret were discovered, he would become a branded serf for the rest of his days. What choice did he have but to play again whatever game she had in mind? He had no desire to be hauled in front of the sheriff, despite it being a feast day, and being accused, perhaps even being put to death on the spot.

The fear he had done so much to quell within him, surfaced. “Who is she? What does she want?”

“I give your anonymity in return for hers. A fair trade. Agreed?”

The woman drove a hard bargain. “You didn’t tell me what she wants.”

”You didn’t tell me if you agree.”

He grumbled under his breath, repressing the urge to wring her neck from her shoulders. The woman had balls to harass him. In the days before he became a wanted man, he wouldn’t have tolerated this woman’s behavior. It was best not to think about that, he reminded himself. “Agreed,” he said, his jaw tightening. “What is it this lady wants?”

“You will see. You are to take the third red ribbon counting as the sun moves.”

“Do what?” he asked as a shudder racked his body. She must be referring to the Maypole, he thought. Dancers around the pole understood that once they danced, they were obligated to their partner for the rest of the day, and rest of the night in a carnal embrace. Before his parents
had been killed, he had been like any other hot-blooded man, seducing pretty woman. Each encounter had been nothing more than a kiss and a quickie. Of course, there had never been any thought of a serious commitment although he suspected that some of the women he had taken to bed, would have wanted marriage. Would this dancing and the subsequent demands give his identity away? He raked his hand through his hair and blew out a huffed breath. He scoured the villagers and the surrounding thatched-roofed huts but found no one watching him with any great suspicion. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“Nay, take if for what’s it worth.
A tumble in the hay to oblige a fair lady.”

He straightened his shoulders, uneasy that she could put such an act so crassly. “I will do as you ask. Anonymity for anonymity but
mark my warning. If as you say, the leaves whisper their secrets to any other than you and me,” he paused to make sure his words had the desired effect of making her heed his caution, “any word that reveals who I am, even a suspicion, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

The woman didn’t flinch from his deep gaze. “They’re not suspicions, Master Kerrich. They’re fact.” With that, she whirled around and ambled away, giving an air of finality to their discussion.

Kerrich watched her until she disappeared into the trees. How had she known his secret? Unable to trust another living soul, he had never told anyone why he was on the run, why he kept his secrets to himself. He glanced upwards at a branch that hung over his head. Could the leaves truly whisper the secrets of those who walked the land of the living?

“Angelet, you’re a wonder,”
Celestine whispered to her friend. Her leather shoes made no sound on the grass as they marched up the hill. Any moment now, the village with its gaily-bedecked Maypole would come into view.

She looked like any other young peasant woman in a simple powdery blue tunic tied with rose bows and a simple white apron. Earlier, Angelet had admonished her to stay in her chambers and vanished. When the sun was high overhead, she returned animatedly and said everything
had been arranged.

“Why?”

“Who else could think up an idea like you did?”

“Any red-blooded man will sleep with you, whether it is on a royal bed, in the hay, or a quick one in the bushes. For this particular man, it’s in his best interest to behave with, let’s say, discretion. Besides, what is Beltane for?”

Her emotions were mixed now that she was on the way to her first encounter with a man she would be able to experiment with. She wanted to feel his slick heat filling her, then exploding inside her. “I want a man to fill me with his stiff rod. Then I want to feel him explode inside me.”

“Spoken as a true woman of the old ways.”
Angelet giggled more like a girl of twenty than the forty she was. She smoothed her hands over her hips.

“That russet color looks lovely on you,”
Celestine complimented her.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Celestine asked as innocently as she could.

“Making me blush!”
Angelet ran her palms over her ruddy cheeks. Her eyes sparkled.

They crested the hill and the village, swarming with its inhabitants in colorful garb, came into view. A scant king’s mile away, a tall maypole, decorated with vivid ribbons in many shades of the rainbow, stood pointing at the clear blue sky. Angelet stumbled over a small rock but
Celestine caught her arm and righted her before she could fall headlong onto the narrow dirt path. “What a view!” she breathed.

“Beltane is my favorite time of year. Mother Earth is renewing herself and her only desire is for her people to enjoy themselves. I feel different today, younger somehow.” Angelet sighed.

Celestine squeezed her arm playfully. “I suppose when it’s spring, we’re allowed to feel that way.”

Angelet got a faraway look in her eyes before she shook herself. “You’re right. Let’s celebrate.”

Celestine lovingly pressed her fingers around the older woman’s arm. What had bothered her momentarily to cause that look of seeing past the merrymakers? “Are you going to see someone too? Perhaps a knight in shining armor?”

“I’ll take a robust, big-cocked man any time over a knight.”

She wasn’t a classical beauty with prominent cheekbones and an hourglass figure. Rather, her face with her full lips, wide set eyes, and a pleasantly shaped nose drew men to Angelet’s side. Along with her kindness and her earthy sense of humor. And she couldn’t forget her breasts – full and heavy but not sagging. “Nay, the way you flaunt your breasts, you’ll have no trouble finding a besotted knight.”

“That’s possible. Men enjoy playing with big aureoles and stroking perfect globes. Nibbling, sucking, licking . .
. ” Angelet let out a heavy sigh.

Celestine
searched the maid’s face for any telltale sign of a blush but found none. Speaking about sex was perfectly natural for her and Celestine was willing to place bets that she was experienced in carnal affairs. Unlike Celestine locked away in the castle hoping an arranged marriage would bring her fulfillment. “Tell me about this mysterious man who’ll initiate me into womanhood,” Celestine urged. Her upper inner thighs were already sticky from her cream in anticipation of enjoying a man’s cock plundering her.

“I told him a little about you.”

Celestine stopped in her tracks, her eyes boring into the maid’s. Her heart beat with an irregular rhythm. “You did what?”

Angelet patted her shoulder and walked on. “Not like who you were or anything. I told him you had dark hair, was the prettiest woman not only in the whole county but in all of England.”

“You didn’t.” Celestine folded her arms across her chest. Should she be angry or pleased? She couldn’t decide but trusted Angelet. Her anger dissipated.

“I also told him that your goodness of heart preceded you.”

Celestine ran along behind her and grabbed her arm. “You didn’t.” Why was she acting like a child tagging after a knowledgeable parent? This wasn’t her usual self.

“You’re beginning to sound like a jester.”

“I’m only concerned. You might have given away who I am. If you have, then I can’t go through with this.” If her stepfather found out she’d had intercourse with any other than the old pig, Leuric would do one of two things. He would either send her off to a nunnery in shame or he would lock her away in her chambers, throw away the key and starve her to death for her perfidy.

“Relax. He’s a stranger in the village. Come tomorrow, he’ll be moving on. Even if he suspected who you are, the knowledge would be safe with him. Don’t be so anxious. Everything will turn out fine. For today, you’re one of the villagers. Have fun. Relax.”

Celestine grunted. “I’m looking forward to the festivities,” she said, placing heavy emphasis on the last word. “But I’ve spent the last few years since mother died feeling restricted, unable to do what I want. I feel like I’m in a pleasant dungeon under Leuric’s close scrutiny.”

Her maid nodded. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.
A pleasant dungeon. Obviously you’ve never been in one before. Nothing pleasant there. My advice is don’t let your youth slip away like I did but no more! I intend to enjoy myself today, as I do every day because the goddess gives to whom she wills and I’ll take everything with both hands.”

“We’ll both begin something new for us,”
Celestine decided out loud. Leuric wanted power and thought he knew how to control her but she was going to teach him otherwise.

Several children, whooping and hollering, darted out from behind the trees on one side of the path. A little girl bumped into her but stopped and looked up into her face. “Ye’re beautiful,” she managed before she ran off to where the other children waited, each trailing bright red, green, pink and yellows ribbons behind them.

Celestine watched as the girl animatedly said something to her companions and all of them glanced over their shoulders at her. “So much for anonymity,” she mumbled.

“Don’t fret. They recognize your beauty but not who you are.”

“I hope you’re right.”

As they passed by a small hut, cool shade cast a shroud over them.
Celestine allowed her eyes to adjust to the dimness and was immediately startled to see a tall, dark-haired man lurking, his impressively strong arms crossed in front of him. He leaned casually against the weather-beaten building, observing everything around him with narrowed eyes, as if the sun was too bright for them. A prickle of apprehension made her skin goose bump. “Do you know him?” she whispered, drawing abreast of him.

Angelet peered at the stranger from under lowered eyelids. “I have no idea.
Someone here for the revelry.” Did she shudder slightly even though the day had become overly warm? “Forget him.”

They strolled back out into the sunshine, leaving the shadows and the mysterious man behind. Angelet tugged on her arm, drawing her forward.

Celestine glanced over her shoulder but the man was no longer there. She dismissed her agitation as jumping to an unwarranted conclusion.

Villagers in multi-colored clothing, swarmed about them and the smell of roasting meat drifted along reminding
Celestine she hadn’t broken her fast yet. Little girls and older women alike wore wreaths of entwined flowers and vines like diadems on their heads.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” asked a young girl.

Well-developed breasts pressed against her white tunic.

“Mayhap,” Angelet replied with a small smile, “but I can’t imagine what it is.”

The girl held out a wreath of spring flowers. “You must wear this to get the blessing of the goddess.”

“That I will gladly do,” the maid replied, leaning forward to allow the girl to rest the wreath on her head. “Might you have another one for my friend?”

Celestine’s eyes rested on the girl, a budding beauty a man would snap up before long. Silently, she accepted the wreath watching the girl’s eyes widen. “Milady,” she said only a little above a whisper before bobbing a hasty curtsey. She vanished into the thickening crowd.

“I thought you said no one would recognize me,”
Celestine admonished Angelet.

“I’m sure she didn’t. All who come into contact with you are in awe of your beauty and your queenly bearing. There’s nothing wrong with that. Hurry or we’ll miss our spots at the Maypole.”

“You mean I have to dance?” Celestine squawked. Her legs were already shaking in anticipation of the coming evening. Surely, she would fall on her face and make a fool of herself.

“There’s nothing to it.
Really.” Angelet stopped so suddenly, Celestine collided with her shoulders and back. “And look at that phallus. Whew!”

Celestine
frowned. “Phallus? What does that mean? Is it something about me having to dance and bare my ass in front of all these people?”

Angelet pursed her lips in mock dismay and apparent amusement and shook her head from side to side. “After all I’ve taught you and how you remain ignorant of the goddess and her ways.”

“And how I remain ignorant of the words you choose,” Celestine protested. Her education had been sparse, concentrating on the duties a lady of a castle performed such as making herb poultices, ensuring all had warm clothes for the winter, among many other tasks.

“A phallus is another word for a representation of a man’s cock. You know that part of his body he pleasures a woman with?
That hard, throbbing part?”

She couldn’t help herself.
Celestine’s nipples hardened at the notion a man would not only touch them but do other things.

“My dear lady,” Angelet said, her eyebrows knitting together. “I set up a date for you and now you’ve got one.”

“With a phallus?” No matter how Celestine searched her memory, she had no idea what a phallus was. And now she’d been set up with one and all this time she had thought, Angelet had meant she would have the opportunity to sleep with a man made of flesh and blood. Disappointment seared through her like a sharp knife.

The maid gave her a blank look before she bent over, burst into laughter, and slapped her thighs. Between gales of laughter, she managed, “I didn’t mean I set up a date with a real man. Right now you’re stuck with the Maypole.”

Her words only confirmed Celestine’s thoughts. Dancing with a Maypole wasn’t much fun when what she wanted was to hold a man’s thickening cock in her small hand. She ground her heel into the dirt and whirled around, intent on finding her way back to the castle. She’d been set up. How could she trust another woman to set up a tryst? Celestine trudged off toward the castle.

Angelet ran up behind her and grabbed her hand. “You’re such a silly goose. The one you desire will be at the Maypole searching for you. There’s no need to get upset with me for not keeping my word.”

Celestine suddenly felt foolish. She should have known her maid wouldn’t pull a trick on her. Angelet was the sweetest and most honest woman she had ever met. She turned back and followed her toward the beribboned Maypole where men and women were taking hold of the ribbons in their fists. Angelet paused, apparently calculating and then hurried forward, stopping to rest a sapphire blue ribbon on Celestine’s upturned palm. “Hang onto this and the rest will take care of itself.” Just as the girl with the wreaths had earlier, she disappeared into the rapidly gathering crowd. Everyone seemed to be talking and laughing at once. There was no shortage of merriment today.

Celestine
stood near the wooden maypole and took in the sights and sounds contrasting them to the life of the castle where the inhabitants were normally sullen and quiet. Music from lyres, tambourines, and the sound of ribald singing caught her up in the joyful event.

“Here I lie between your thighs,” a bald man sang slightly off key.
“Going high.”

He’d made the song up but his spirit lacked nothing in the rendering.
Celestine found herself giggling and enjoyed the release the sound gave her.

Soon the immediate circle around the maypole thinned out leaving only the men and women who held ribbons. Two circles, an inner and an outer one, had formed.
Celestine felt the press of bodies and quickened breathing around her.

“Are you all ready?” a woman cried out as she raised her hand into the air and waved.

Everyone turned in her direction and shouted, “Yea!”

“You all know what you must do. Weave your ribbon as you walk in and out of the folks coming at you. When the ribbon
is wound as tight as it will go around the maypole, you’ll each be paired with your chosen counterpart for the day. The goddess decrees you begin!” She clapped her hands together.

The silence ended and the cacophony began. Everyone started laughing, clapping, and catcalling at the same time. Barking and howling, the dogs joined in. Children screamed at the top of their lungs and the maypole dancers started to move in the loosely defined circle, their bodies passing within inches of each other. The ribbon
Celestine held became shorter and shorter and soon she was forced to reach up above her head to keep twining the ribbon she held. When it would go no further, she came face to face with a virile, golden-haired man whose massive shoulders strained against the fabric of his tunic. All she could do was stare into the man’s dark gray eyes, noting the green flecks sparkling in them, like small jewels.