hope there is no village nearby,” she said, glancing ’round.
“There isn’t,” Anvrai replied. “I looked for signs of habitation when I set my traps.”
“But what if someone should see the smoke from our fire?”
“’Tis unlikely, my lady.”
Isabel sat down near the fire, not far from Anvrai. “Are there wolves?” she asked. “I remember hearing tales of wolves in the north country.”
Anvrai seemed to hesitate before answering. “No,” he finally said. “I saw no sign of any wolves.”
Isabel glanced at Roger, sleeping peacefully, and wondered if she would find her own rest so easily. She moved closer to Anvrai.
“How is your foot?”
“Oh. ’Tis…. I think you should look at it.” She trusted his skill and gentle touch. The wound was nearly healed, but another application of his germander poultice would not be amiss.
Anvrai left his place to gather what he needed to complete the task. Isabel watched uneasily as he disappeared into the darkness, even though there was no good reason to be afraid. She believed him when he said there were no people or wolves about.
Isabel shivered and pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders. There was a chilly edge to the air, and she knew ’twould grow much colder as the night wore on.
Anvrai returned and positioned himself on the ground where Isabel could extend her leg and place her foot in his lap. He took her foot in hand, untying the fur boot. Carefully, he unwrapped the bandage and looked at the cut in the sole. “’Tis healing well.”
“But it’s sore.”
“The cut?”
“No…the muscles.”
He nodded. “From walking today.” He cradled her foot in his rough hands and pressed his thumbs against the sides, then the sole. “You did well.”
Isabel put her elbows on the ground behind her and leaned back on them, closing her eyes with the pleasure Anvrai elicited with his words, his touch. He rubbed the muscles of her foot, and Isabel moved slightly, giving him access to her ankle.
He unwrapped the fur from her other foot and began to rub it, then slid his hands higher, massaging both legs at once. Isabel opened her eyes and looked at his face, but she did not withdraw, even though his touch was wholly improper. Her feet should not be lodged in SirAnvrai’s lap, nor should she allow him to caress her so intimately. His touch made her tingle…her breasts tightened, and her womb contracted pleasantly. ’Twas a most unusual sensation, but she could not make herself pull away.
“Should I expect my husband to perform this service after I am wed, Sir Anvrai?”
The rhythm of his touch did not change, but he raised his head and met her gaze. “I would not know, my lady,” he said. “The duties of a husband are foreign to me.”
His voice was quiet, as though it came from a great distance, and Isabel realized the subject was not a welcome one.
“How did you learn so much of the healing arts?” she asked, moving to a safer topic.
“At the house where I fostered,” he replied, “the lady was a gardener and provided medicine for the manor and village. She taught me.”
He must have been quite young then, for later, when he’d grown, he’d have begun his knight’s training. She wondered if he’d been as fierce a child as he was a man and decided not. He had too gentle a touch always to have been a fearsome warrior.
“Does your liege lord utilize your skills at Belmere?”
“Aye. Some.”
The heat of his hands spread up her legs to her loins and beyond. Her bones turned to liquid, and she craved something more.
“Mayhap you can teach Roger to do this,” she said.
Anvrai stopped his ministrations abruptly. He placed the poultice on the cut, wrapped her foot, and stood. “You won’t need another poultice after this, my lady. The wound is nearly healed.”
Confused by Anvrai’s abrupt withdrawal, Isabel wrapped her feet in the fur boots and tied them in place. “Thank you, Sir Anvrai,” she said. She came to her
“There isn’t,” Anvrai replied. “I looked for signs of habitation when I set my traps.”
“But what if someone should see the smoke from our fire?”
“’Tis unlikely, my lady.”
Isabel sat down near the fire, not far from Anvrai. “Are there wolves?” she asked. “I remember hearing tales of wolves in the north country.”
Anvrai seemed to hesitate before answering. “No,” he finally said. “I saw no sign of any wolves.”
Isabel glanced at Roger, sleeping peacefully, and wondered if she would find her own rest so easily. She moved closer to Anvrai.
“How is your foot?”
“Oh. ’Tis…. I think you should look at it.” She trusted his skill and gentle touch. The wound was nearly healed, but another application of his germander poultice would not be amiss.
Anvrai left his place to gather what he needed to complete the task. Isabel watched uneasily as he disappeared into the darkness, even though there was no good reason to be afraid. She believed him when he said there were no people or wolves about.
Isabel shivered and pulled her shawl tightly about her shoulders. There was a chilly edge to the air, and she knew ’twould grow much colder as the night wore on.
Anvrai returned and positioned himself on the ground where Isabel could extend her leg and place her foot in his lap. He took her foot in hand, untying the fur boot. Carefully, he unwrapped the bandage and looked at the cut in the sole. “’Tis healing well.”
“But it’s sore.”
“The cut?”
“No…the muscles.”
He nodded. “From walking today.” He cradled her foot in his rough hands and pressed his thumbs against the sides, then the sole. “You did well.”
Isabel put her elbows on the ground behind her and leaned back on them, closing her eyes with the pleasure Anvrai elicited with his words, his touch. He rubbed the muscles of her foot, and Isabel moved slightly, giving him access to her ankle.
He unwrapped the fur from her other foot and began to rub it, then slid his hands higher, massaging both legs at once. Isabel opened her eyes and looked at his face, but she did not withdraw, even though his touch was wholly improper. Her feet should not be lodged in SirAnvrai’s lap, nor should she allow him to caress her so intimately. His touch made her tingle…her breasts tightened, and her womb contracted pleasantly. ’Twas a most unusual sensation, but she could not make herself pull away.
“Should I expect my husband to perform this service after I am wed, Sir Anvrai?”
The rhythm of his touch did not change, but he raised his head and met her gaze. “I would not know, my lady,” he said. “The duties of a husband are foreign to me.”
His voice was quiet, as though it came from a great distance, and Isabel realized the subject was not a welcome one.
“How did you learn so much of the healing arts?” she asked, moving to a safer topic.
“At the house where I fostered,” he replied, “the lady was a gardener and provided medicine for the manor and village. She taught me.”
He must have been quite young then, for later, when he’d grown, he’d have begun his knight’s training. She wondered if he’d been as fierce a child as he was a man and decided not. He had too gentle a touch always to have been a fearsome warrior.
“Does your liege lord utilize your skills at Belmere?”
“Aye. Some.”
The heat of his hands spread up her legs to her loins and beyond. Her bones turned to liquid, and she craved something more.
“Mayhap you can teach Roger to do this,” she said.
Anvrai stopped his ministrations abruptly. He placed the poultice on the cut, wrapped her foot, and stood. “You won’t need another poultice after this, my lady. The wound is nearly healed.”
Confused by Anvrai’s abrupt withdrawal, Isabel wrapped her feet in the fur boots and tied them in place. “Thank you, Sir Anvrai,” she said. She came to her
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