"I am grateful to you, madame," Sir Udolf replied. "The Laird of Dunglais will know who I am without my fine feathers, as will my dear Alix." He pulled the breeks on beneath the simple chemise he had been wearing and then the sherte. He found the materials of both garments rough against his skin, but as she had said, they were serviceable. A leather jerkin completed his outfit. It had horn buttons. Clothed he felt stronger and more in control of himself again.
"Ahh, how well you look," Robena complimented him with a small smile. "Now, come into what I refer to as my hall," she invited him. "I did not always live in a cottage on the moor. Fyfa has prepared us a good supper. And in the morning I shall direct you to Dunglais, which is not very far." She led him from the little bedchamber down the corridor and into a small rectangular room with a large hearth.
"It is still light," he said. "Could I not reach Dunglais if I departed now?"
"If you had a horse, perhaps," Robena replied. "But on foot? Nay, my lord. You will need much of tomorrow, and after your illness you should not overnight on the moor. Dunglais is several long miles, and if you will but gaze out my cottage door you will see the sun will soon set. It is no longer high summer, my lord. But come and have supper with me. Then you will tell me of your home and your woman." She could see he was actually debating with himself as to whether to remain or set out. Robena quickly looked for the pitcher of wine, and after finding it poured him a small goblet. "Here, my lord," she said, handing it to him.
He took it from her almost absently, sipped, and then said, "I suppose you are right, madame. I do not really know the countryside, and might easily become lost again. And as I am now unarmed, there are wild beasts to consider."
"Indeed, my lord, you are wise to remain but a few hours more," she almost purred at him. "Ah, here are Fyfa and Rafe with our supper." She led him to a table already set with a linen cloth where their meal was now being set out. "Let me serve you, my lord," Robena said. "Thank you, Fyfa. Rafe, wait outside the door. If I need you I will call you." She waved them from the room, and then proceeded to fill a bread trencher with capon, trout, and a potage of vegetables consisting of onions, peas, and carrots in a creamed sauce. Putting it before him, she served herself. She buttered some bread for him, adding a wedge of cheese.
They ate, and when he had finished, looking more relaxed than he had since they had brought him to the cottage, Robena served him a plate of Fyfa's custard with plum jam. The first pitcher of wine was already emptied, and so she called to Rafe to bring another. "I find wine helps me sleep," she remarked. "And you will want to sleep well tonight so you may start your journey early, my lord."
"How far are you from Dunglais?" he wanted to know.
"About eight miles," she told him. "You must go north and just slightly east from my cottage, my lord." She filled his now-empty wine cup.
He shoved a piece of bread and cheese into his mouth and drank it down. The cup was filled again, and he sipped it thoughtfully. "I suppose I could not travel so far now with the sun set," Sir Udolf remarked. "So I shall accept your hospitality for another night, but no more. A pity my horse could not be found." He stood, clutching the cup, and walked to the door of the cottage to gaze out at the darkening skies.
From his place in the heather where he lay observing the cottage Beinn saw the man shadowed in the doorway. It was not the lack-witted Rafe, for Rafe was a big man. This fellow was of medium height, and stocky. So the bitch had found herself a lover to scratch that unquenchable itch of hers. Beinn thought back several years when Robena had been in residence at the keep and his master's wife.
Several times while working in the stables he had thought that someone was watching him. It always amused him, for he knew that the serving wenches considered him a fine man. With his sherte off as he pitched hay or curried a horse, his muscles rippling, he could arouse their lust, and he was never above a quick tumble in an empty stall. Sometimes he even heard them giggling, and he would stop, pretending to be tired and, turning about as he rubbed the sweat from his forehead, give them a good glimpse of his brawny, hairy chest.
One day as he worked, a lass came up behind him, putting her arms about him, one hand reaching about and down to fondle his cock. He was easily arouse, and let the wench have her way. She'd pay for her boldness in a few minutes when he put her on her back and gave her a good fucking. Reaching about, he turned her around so that her back was to him. She giggled as he pulled her gown down from her shoulders to her waist so he might feel up her breasts. They were large and filled his big hands. He pulled her gown up after a few minutes, one hand cupping her mons. She was already so wet, her juices were running down the insides of her plump thighs. His finger found her little love button, and she squealed with pleasure.
"By Christ, you're an eager little wench," he growled in her ear. "Give us a kiss then, and you'll have a good long fucking for your reward, lass." He turned her about, and found himself staring into the dancing blue eyes of the laird's wife. Horrified, he had shoved her away. She fell into a pile of hay, laughing at his surprise. He had stepped back away from her, shocked, as she spread her bare legs to him.
"Lady…" He could say no more.
"Come, Beinn," she invited him, her fingers parting her nether lips wide. "You want to fuck me, I know it. Your cock is bursting forth from your breeks, and a fine cock it is too. And I want to be fucked by that beautiful cock of yours. Come, don't be shy. I am your mistress, and I command you to fuck me. Now!"
He had undone his breeks in his eagerness, and indeed his cock was thrusting forth from them. He was as hard as a rock, and it was painful. But he pushed himself back into his garment, fastening it as quickly as his shaking hands could, and retreating from the woman lying on the pile of hay.
Robena's face had grown dark with her anger as his refusal became apparent. Her voice was low and measured, but deadly as she spoke. "Do you think your master is the only man to have ever ridden between my thighs, you dolt? My brothers broke me in before I married, although my stupid husband believed me a virgin because I screamed when he first had me. And of course there was the skin of chicken's blood for the sheets." She laughed. "The king even lusted after me when we were at court, but forbore my company for his friendship with my husband. Fortunately the Earl of Huntley was not so scrupulous. He was a vigorous, if uninspired lover. But now I am home again, and your master bores me. I must have a lover, and you could please me, Beinn. Come now, and lie with me. Fuck me hard and deep. I will not tell if you won't." She smiled seductively at him, beckoning with her finger.
He had turned and left the stables. He was at first confused as to what to do. He had had his hands on his lord's wife, fondled her breasts, stroked her cunny. Should he go to Father Donald and confess this monumental sin? He was close to weeping with his shame and the dishonor. He sought out the priest, who listened quietly and then spoke the words of comfort that Beinn had needed to hear.
"You are not to blame, my son, for this transgression. The woman tricked and entrapped you, and while you may have fondled her while her identity was unknown to you, you left off upon seeing her face. I have long suspected that the lady was not the wife our laird deserves, but until he learns the truth they are joined under God's law. For the sin of your unbridled lust, however, I must punish you. You will be present at the early Mass for a month, and at Vespers as well, Beinn. And you will keep your own counsel, saying naught to the laird."