Scotland: September, 1560
There were several reasons why Margarete would always remember the September day she spent in the woods with Colin. It was far from the first or the last time she would spend a day riding out with her husband, and taking their mutual pleasure in the tall grass or under the trees, but this day was special.
The first reason was, until that day, she had never watched others while they made love. She had, of course, had glimpses on festival days of indiscrete couples celebrating the license of Beltane or midsummer, but these glimpses had always been fleeting: something sensed in the shadows more than seen in the light. On this day, the sun was bright, and the man and woman not only visible, but known to her. On this day, unseen by the two, she had, after an initial shrinking back, become an intentional observer.
The second reason was she had cause to know without a doubt that it was the activities of that day spent under the trees and sky which gave her her heart's desire: a second pregnancy. Since losing her first baby far too soon, she had hoped each time, but had never expected to know for certain when the miracle occurred.
The third reason why the memory of that day would remain indelible was the simple fierce passion of it. She loved best to mate with Colin out of doors. To be sure they did it in the lawful safety of their curtained bed often enough, but something in her soul and body thrilled to take Colin inside her with the fresh breeze on her skin, the scent of flowers or pine needles surrounding her, and the benevolence of the trees and the sky above her.
To the pleasure of the surroundings was added the savor of satisfying desires too long denied. Colin had been in Perth for several weeks conferring with the trader and captain who minded his business affairs. He had returned the night before, and his weariness had been equal to no more than being pleased by Margarete's skill with lips and tongue. He had only one day at home, and left early the following morning to spend several more weeks in Leeth, which was how Margarete knew beyond any doubt that it was their romp in the woods that day which brought about her pregnancy.
That day began early. Weary from travel, Colin had gone to bed, and slept long and deeply. When he woke, it was to see Margarete awake and watching him. He reached out his hand and took hers. On many a tiresome day in the saddle, he had remembered pleasurable times spent out of doors with Margarete and other women. After so long on the road, he found the curtained bed comfortable, but when well rested, a little confining. Enjoying the sight of his wife after many days apart, he remembered the morning on which they had consummated their marriage.
She saw a glint come into his eyes, and he said, "I'd fancy an early morning ride wi ye in the woods." Instantly she read his thoughts, and remembered what he remembered. She smiled broadly and nodded.
No one was about so early, and they felt like conspirators as they dressed and left their chamber. As on that other morning, they crept as quietly as they could threw the great hall, Colin pausing to retrieve food and a flask of wine left on the high table. In the stable, the horses shifted about sleepily. Margarete sat down to wait while Colin saddled and bridled their horses.
Outside, the crisp September air was pleasant. Colin chose a direction that would take them on an undemanding course towards a small wood within which was a pleasant pond in a tiny clearing. They spoke little, but looked often at one another. Margarete savored the clean lines of his body, his easy carriage, that sense of natural command that came from his physical confidence, and from years of being the laird to those who dwelt on his lands. Colin's eyes returned often to her, admiring the warm gold of her hair, her proud baring, the graceful ease with which she handled her horse, the curves of her body, familiar, but still somehow exotic to him.
At the edge of the wood they dismounted. The trees were too close together for easy riding, and each felt a desire to be closer to one another than could be achieved on horseback. They tethered their mounts leaving them enough reign to graze, linked arms, and set off into the trees.
The tops of the trees rustled continuously in the light breeze, but at ground level the air was still, and quietness enveloped them. The ground was thick with needles, and their feet made little sound as they moved together. There was the occasional rustling of a small animal, and now and then the call of a bird from overhead. Margarete's senses were filled by the sight and scent of the trees, her mind and body with longing for her husband.
She didn't hear the faint sound some distance ahead that caused Colin to drift to a standstill, his hand on Margarete's arm, drawing her to a halt also. She turned to him, about to ask him what was wrong, but he put a quick finger to his lips. His eyes widened warningly, and he flicked his gaze further along their path.
Now she heard it too: a faint sound. It was the sound of a woman's voice, but there were no words. The gasping cry was repeated. Margarete jerked with surprise. Colin could see at once that she had not understood, and held her arm firmly, pressing his finger against her mouth to silence her. The cry was repeated in a rhythmical way that quickly made it clear to Margarete that the sounds were not those of a woman in distress, but those of a woman's pleasure. Margarete's eyes opened wide in astonishment. Colin had all he could do to keep from laughing aloud at the bemused expression on her face.
He held her there for a long moment, compelling her to hear. Her eyes strained forward, but there was nothing to be seen but trees. At last, she shifted restlessly, trying to draw away from him back the way they'd had come, but he wouldn't allow it. He held her, his intense stair commanding her to be still. She submitted reluctantly. The sounds coming from somewhere ahead of them stirred many emotions in her mind, and an unmistakable response in her body. She wished to retreat from all of these things. She presumed that Colin's reluctance to do so was in deference to the unseen lovers: a polite urge not to disturb them.
She did not understand the mischievous gleam in his eye until he began very slowly to urge her towards the lovers rather than away from them. A subtle, silent struggle ensued. She, motivated by the good manners she had ascribed to him, was reluctant to make any sound, but tried to resist his pressure on her arm drawing her slowly forward. He, motivated by something quite different, pulled her along beside him, still enjoining caution and silence.
Reluctant but forcibly drawn on, and not only by his firm grip on her arm, she slid carefully forward. She peered alternately down at her feet to preserve their stealthy progress, and ahead to make sure they didn't suddenly become visible to those they sought to see. The ground began to slope down slightly, and she became conscious of the scent of water and damp ground. Colin drew them to a halt, then shifted carefully to one side until they had a view into the clearing by the pond which had been their destination. But someone had got there before them: two someones in fact, who were disporting themselves on top of a cloak thrown on the ground.
Colin's hand moved quickly to cover Margarete's mouth to smother her involuntary gasp of shock. She instantly recognized the distinctive green of the cloak. It was a remarkable shade of sea green that she and Lise had admired greatly. It matched exactly the uncommon colour of a petticoat Margarete had purchased for Lise in Perth on their arrival in Scotland. Colin's trading master, recalling their fondness for the colour, had brought a bolt of cloth in that shade on his last visit. Margarete clearly recalled the hours spent turning some of the fabric into a lovely lining for a warm woolen cloak for Lise. There could be no mistaking the identity of the woman who lay on her back, her black hair spread out around her, and by extension, that of the man who straddled her.
Margarete stood paralyzed with shock. Even as a cascade of thoughts and emotions flooded her, she was keenly aware of Colin's body pressed against her from behind, and of his hand still covering her mouth. Cautiously, he drew her back slightly to ensure they were out of sight of the couple on the ground, who nevertheless seemed far to absorbed to notice anything in their surroundings. Margarete no longer resisted; she let herself be drawn backwards against him. She leaned back gratefully, feeling momentarily weak with surprise and confusion.
Although she had never seen a man and woman make love before, the sight of Lise naked, on her back and given up to sexual passion was not a new one. Indeed, how often Margarete had seen her so, had in fact been the eager cause of such abandon. The disorientation of the moment was profound. Of course Margarete knew well that Lise and Owen were lovers, had encouraged the relationship, and joyed for Lise as it thrived. Still, in this moment, Margarete felt a stab of hither-to unacknowledged jealousy. Knowing a thing and seeing it for one's self were very different she discovered.
On the heels of this feeling was the quick caution Lise had instilled in her against ever letting anyone know the nature of their intimacy. As servant and mistress, Lise and Margarete had, for several years, routinely spent hours alone together in field and wood, or in Margarete's bedchamber. It was such a conventional relationship that neither Margarete's family nor Colin's household had ever thought to question its propriety. More worldly by far than her younger mistress, Lise had always counseled extreme care never to even hint at the true nature of their bond to anyone. Now, standing hidden in the trees watching Lise being well pleased by another, Margarete had to discipline herself to remember that this sight must seem wholly and completely new to her.
Neither had she ever thought to see Owen in such a posture. She had spent many happy hours in the great hall or on horseback sharing tunes with Owen. They were both accomplished musicians, and sang and played well together. Added to this unique bond was the fondness Margarete would have felt for anyone who brought such happiness to her beloved Lise as Owen did: and she simply liked him for himself. Nonetheless, she had never imagined seeing him unclothed, much less engaged in vigorous copulation. She felt her heart racing, and, despite her many confused thoughts and emotions, could not ignore the irresistible response in her body to such a sight.
Behind her, Colin felt the tension in her. In her absolute stillness, he sensed clearly that it was no longer the tension of someone restrained who wished to flee. Colin could not honestly have said that he'd never imagined seeing Lise unclothed, but he'd never truly expected to. Owen, on the other hand, he had seen unclothed and in such sport on many occasions. Foster brothers and sworn companions, they had shared much, including uncounted women on uncounted evenings of indulgence both here and during their sojourn in Paris. Margarete was not to know this of course, and he was glad to have no reason to hide the grin that spread across his face as he pulled Margarete's curvaceous body more securely against his.
There was laughter from the two on the ground, a confusion of movement, and then Lise was straddling Owen, moving with accomplished ease, kneeling up, hands resting on Owen's chest. He reached up to caress her breasts, and Lise threw back her head, wholly abandoned to sensation. It was Colin's turn for a moment of sharp disorientation. The sight triggered a barely retained memory from a drunken night of pleasure. There had been several women...; Owen had been there he was sure of that. Had it been Paris? Perth? He dismissed memories of many chambers from many brothels. The setting was elusive, but the memory of a lusty woman straddling him with the muscular thighs of a horsewoman persisted. As Owen's hands slid lower, between Lise's parted legs, he gave up the effort to remember, and simply watched as Lise was brought skillfully to a peak of pleasure that caused Colin to pull Margarete even more tightly against him. She wriggled, and he knew that she was roused also.
