Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

"I hope you're coming hawking?" he called cheerfully when he saw her. "The birds are ready. " The sky was limpid and clear. It was going to be another hot day.

She forgot the fears of the night as she gathered up her skirts and ran down the steps to her horse. They were no more to her now than some uneasy nightmare about which, though she remembered having been frightened, she could recall no details.

They rode out of Hay away from the sweeping escarpment of Pen y Beacon, which rose sharp as a knife against the sky, back across the shallow Wye, this time turning north toward the meadows that bounded Clyro Hill; the grooms and austringers with the precious hawks, Richard's chief falconer— some dozen horsemen altogether—clattered after them along the stony track, and another dozen or so men on foot. In the distance a curlew called.

All at once from a bed of reeds nearby they put up a heron. With an exclamation Richard pulled the hood from the bird on his wrist and tossed her into the air. They reined their horses in and watched as the humped figure of the heron flew low and lumbering for the river, but it was too late. The hawk struck it down within seconds. Excited, Matilda turned and called for her own bird, a small but swift and deadly brown merlin. She grinned at Richard. "I'll match you kill for kill. " She pulled on the heavy gauntlet and reached down for the bird, feeling the power of its talons as it settled itself, bells jingling, onto the leather on her fist. She gripped the jesses and kicked her pony on.

Gradually the path began to climb, and after a while it plunged into the dry woods that cloaked the southern side of Elfael. Then the trees cleared and the moors rose bare before them. They waited as the beaters with their dogs scattered into the tall bracken. Richard's horse shifted restlessly beneath him as he turned to Matilda with a smile, soothing the glossy peregrine on his wrist. "We should have some good sport up here. It's early yet, and not too hot. " He tensed suddenly as the beaters flushed a snipe from a marshy cwm.

After slipping the hood from the bird's head again, Richard flew her and they waited, eyes narrowed against the glare, as she climbed high into the blue, towering above the quarry, ready for the deadly swoop.

His eyes gleamed with excitement as the bird plummeted down. "A kill, " he murmured exultantly under his breath. He urged his horse forward into the breast-high bracken, the winged lure dangling from his fingers.

Matilda followed him, her eyes fixed on his broad shoulders, and she breathed deeply and exultantly in the sharp air, almost laughing out loud as she kicked her pony on and felt the wind lifting her veil, teasing, trying to dislodge her hair.

It was a good morning's sport. When they drew rein at midday the party was tired and hot. Richard slid from his saddle, then threw the rein to a groom and went to lie facedown on the grass beside a tiny upland brook. He grinned up at her, shaking the water from his eyes. "Come and bathe your face. It's gloriously cool. "

Their attendants drew back into the shadow of a group of trees with the birds and Matilda, who had been watching as her horse was led away, dropped on her knees beside him and let her fingers play for a moment in the water. The mountain stream was very cold and within minutes her hands were aching with it. He laughed at her. "How improper! My Lady de Braose, paddling in the water like a child!"

She laughed a little guiltily. "I wish I could throw all my clothes off and jump in like a boy. "

"Please do, madam. I should not object. " He grinned shamelessly. She could not be angry with him. "God, Matilda, " he went on, suddenly serious. "Would that you were not de Braose's wife. " His voice took on a new note that frightened her. She glanced up apprehensively and found him gazing at her, the message in his eyes plain. "Let's walk in the woods a little way away from this rabble that always follows us. I must talk to you freely. Alone. "

"No!" Her voice was firm, although her heart was beating fast. She wanted so much to throw caution aside and do as he asked. "No, not again, we mustn't. We mustn't as long as my husband lives. " She rose, brushing the loose grass from her kirtle. "Please, don't ever speak of it again. Many things I would dare in this world, but I must not dishonor William again. " She turned toward the trees, biting her lips miserably, wishing he had not spoken, but he had scrambled after her. He seized her hand.

"It is too late to speak of dishonor, Matilda. You are mine in your heart, and in your eyes when you look at me, and in your dreams. I know it. " Careless of who might still be able to see them, he pulled her to him, seeking her mouth with his own, caressing her shoulders gently as he pressed her against him.

She gave a little shudder of longing. "We must not, " she murmured, her lips against his. "Such love will be cursed. "

"Rubbish. " His grip was more insistent now. He bent and, flinging his arm behind her knees, he scooped her off her feet. She gave a little cry of protest, but he ignored it, carrying her down the bank of the brook and wading across the gurgling water to the shelter of some gorse bushes on the far side. There he laid her on the ground. He reached for his belt and unbuckled it, laying his sword aside, then he bent over her once more,