When she had first come to Aelfdene, she had thought of Madoc constantly. Now she found that her mind was full of Arvel, and Eadwine, and her duties as Aelfdene's mistress. Madoc, who had followed her through time and space to make his peace with her, could not seem to find her on the other side of Offa's Dyke. Perhaps he did not want to, or perhaps it was their destiny to be separated now that they had resolved the past. She could not seem to reach out to him, nor he to her. Wynne did not understand why, but she knew that life would go on nonetheless. She owed Eadwine some measure of happiness for the love he was lavishing upon her and upon Arvel.

He was a most passionate man, and it constantly astounded her that a man in his forties could be so intensely amorous. And he was thoughtful as well. On Beltaine, when he had told her most firmly that her healing period was now past and that he intended to exert his rights over her, she had been hesitant for a number of reasons, but she had told him she would comply with his wishes. There had been no one else but them at the high board that evening, to her puzzlement. The meal was a surprisingly delicate one and not at all what she had instructed Heall to prepare.

A basket of raw oysters had been served to Eadwine along with a goblet of heavy, rich-spiced wine. At her place, however, had been set a dainty breast of capon poached in white wine, as well as a goblet of the spiced wine. With a broad grin Ealdraed placed a platter of boiled asparagus and a dish of chestnuts which had been cooked with a single leaf of mint. Wynne flushed, embarrassed. The menu before them was one intended to arouse their passions and increase their sexual activity. She could barely nibble at the food, although Eadwine ate with gusto.

"I must bathe," she said finally when she could sit no more. "I have spent the day out of doors and am rank with my own sweat."

"The tub awaits you, my lady," Ealdraed cackled.

From the corner of her eye Wynne saw Gytha, Arvel in her arms, slipping from the hall. "Gytha!" she called sharply. "Where are you going with my son? It is much too late for Arvel to be out."

"I am taking him to the cottage that my lord Eadwine has given me," Gytha said brightly. "Oh, lady! Tis such a fine cottage, with its own fire pit and a sleeping shelf with a featherbed!"

"I want no one else privy to our privacy, Wynne," the thegn said firmly before she could protest. "I would not put Arvel in any danger." Then he turned and smiled at the young wet nurse. "You may take our son and go, Gytha," he told her.

With a smile the girl curtsied and departed the hall. Ealdraed, too, seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Angrily Wynne arose and ran up the stairs to the Great Chamber. How dare he separate her from Arvel? Then entering the room, she saw it. A bed! A great, large bed with brass rings and brocade hangings! A bed with a mattress, and a featherbed, bolster pillows, and a down coverlet!

"Ohh, " she gasped, surprised, and felt the tears springing to her eyes. "Oh."

"You have spoken of a bed ever since your arrival here," he said, and she was surprised again, for she had not heard him come. "I know that you are uncomfortable with our simple sleeping spaces."

"But where did you find this?" Wynne asked him, touched that he cared for her that much, yet angry that his kindness made her own ire seem petty by comparison.

"I have traveled a bit in my life and knew what a bed was," he told her. "One of my sawyers is particularly clever at making furniture. I explained to him what it was I wanted, and together I think we have managed to get it right. The springs are deerhide for strength. They will not break beneath our combined weights. The mattress has been stuffed with a mixture of hay, straw, rose petals, and lavender. The featherbed and the coverlet will keep us comfortable, I promise you."

"And the pillows? Where did you obtain pillows?" she asked him.

"In Worcester when I went to serve in the shire court last month," he said with a grin. "I have surprised you, haven't I, Wynne?"

"You have indeed surprised me, Eadwine," she admitted.

"There will be other changes to come too," he promised her. "Two days' journey from Aelfdene is the manor of Aelfleah, whose lord is my distant cousin, Aldwine Athelsbeorn. His home has always been thought odd by all, for where the Great Chamber should be, Aldwine has instead built several rooms for privacy's sake. We will journey there one day soon and see exactly how he has done this. Then we will do it here at Aelfdene. Would that please you, Wynne?"

She nodded. "Aye, it would."

"Good! Now let us bathe, sweeting. I am anxious to try out our new bed. I have sent our nosy old Ealdraed off" to spend her night with Gytha, so if you need help, it is I who will maid you."

The big tub stood awaiting them in its corner. Wynne undressed quickly, pinning her hair atop her head, and stepped into the warm water. Over the winter she had made several cakes of a fine soap which she had scented with lavender, that being the only dried herb she had that appealed to her in her pregnant state. She washed her face and was lathered and rinsed when he finally entered their tub.

Taking the soap from her, he turned her about and said, "Let me wash you, my love," and his lips nibbled lightly against the back of her damp neck.

He pulled her back against him, and immediately she could feel his persistent maleness against her. He was already engorged with his passion. His big hands, well-soaped, cupped her breasts and began to fondle them. His rough thumbs rubbed sensuously against her very sensitive nipples, even as bending over her his tongue licked about the shell of her ear.

"Do you know how much I desire you, Wynne?" he whispered softly to her.

"Aye," she said low. Oh, why were his hands so gentle and yet so provocative against her skin?

"I want you to desire me," he told her, and his tongue pushed into her ear to tickle it.

"No," she replied, but there was little conviction in her voice.

"Yes," he murmured, and while one hand grasped one of her breasts, the other slid lingeringly down her torso, his touch fiery and intimate. His lips kissed the side of her neck while a single finger slipped between her nether lips to find that sentient little pearl of her sex. Slowly, insistently, the tip of his finger stroked her, setting wildfires ablaze throughout her whole body.

Her upper teeth gnawed at her lower lip as she strove to maintain a control over herself; but her hips began to rotate seemingly of themselves, and she could not prevent a small groan from escaping from between her lips. She could feel him, hard and demanding, against her buttocks. "We will never finish our bathing," she managed to protest faintly, "and the water grows cold."

"Then wash me," he growled low, and turning her about, he kissed her with a hard kiss. "All of me!"

He held her in a light grip, an arm about her waist, as she began to soap him. Her breath was coming in short pants, for although she wanted to deny it, she was greatly aroused by this man who called himself her husband. Her breasts just touched his muscled, furred chest, and she blushed to see how thrusting and pointed her nipples were. "I cannot wash you properly if you do not release your hold on me, my lord," she finally said in an effort to regain some measure of self-control, and he instantly did.

"I do not want to impede you in your wifely duties," he teased, and chuckled at the pink flooding her cheeks.

Wynne tried to work with some sort of order. Unsmiling, she washed his chest and his arms, his shoulders and his neck. Taking her cloth, she washed his face and his ears, scolding him roundly as she did so. "Men! You are no better than little boys! Look at these ears, my lord! When on earth was the last time you washed them? Ears must be washed along with everything else!"

He chuckled at her, and his eyes were warm as he gazed down on her. This was what he had needed in his life. A young wife who scolded him, and whose passion-for despite her denials to the contrary, she was passionate-would keep him warm of a winter's night. He snatched the cloth playfully from her. "Let me see your ears, my lady wife! Ahh, yes, they are most perfect." He nipped at an earlobe and she shrieked.

"My lord Eadwine! You must behave yourself or I shall never get this done. The water is practically icy! Turn about that I may wash your back."

"Be gentle this time, lady," he begged her, remembering the last time she had washed his back.

Because this was a tub in which one could stand, and it had just been filled full, Wynne could not wash his legs and feet, and told him so. "You must do your own," she said, but he caught her hand in his and drew it down to his manhood.

"Will you not wash this randy piece of me, lady?" he pleaded softly, but did not release his hold upon her, even as with burning cheeks she dragged her cloth across his flesh. He held her gaze in his, willing her to touch him in a more intimate fashion. His lips brushed hers teasingly and, finally unable to help himself, he begged her with a single word, "Please!"

"Ahhh," she sighed, moved, unable to resist his plea, "you are cruel, my lord," and then her fingers closed over the great shaft of his manhood, fondling it gently, then stroking it until he thought he would expire of the simple pleasure she was offering.

"Tonight," he half groaned, "I will look into your face when I take you, my sweet wife. Do you know how very much I want to see your passion?" His arms wrapped about her and he kissed her hungrily, his lips almost tasting hers as he communicated his desire for her.