"Welcome home, my lord!" he was greeted half a dozen times over by his smiling servants, and Hugh felt a great warmth suffuse his soul. Home. Aye, Langston really was his home. He could have sworn he actually felt the stones in the building greeting him with gladness.

"God be praised for your safe journey and return, my lord," the priest said, saluting him.

"You have been busy, good father, I am told, since my departure," Hugh answered, tossing his cloak to a servant and taking up a goblet of wine from another. "Rolf tells me you have performed a marriage."

The priest beamed. "Indeed, I did, my lord."

"And just how did it all come about, good father?"

"That," the priest told him with another smile, "must be the lady Isabelle's tale. She is very clever, your lady wife."

"Most clever," Hugh agreed, "for she greeted me at the barbican, and has now disappeared." He looked about the hall, but there was no sight or sign of Belle.

"Welcome home, my lord," his mother-in-law addressed him. "We are relieved to have you back."

Hugh took up both of Alette's small hands in his. "I thank you, madame, and I tender my congratulations to you upon your marriage."

Alette laughed softly, a becoming rose color staining her cheeks. "My lord, I thank you," she responded, her adoring look going to her husband.

"I am happy for you," Hugh continued, "although you were at times more recalcitrant in the matter than I have ever seen your daughter. Where is my lady wife? I have not seen her since my arrival."

"She is preparing your bath for you, my lord, for she realized you will be dirty and dusty from the road," Alette said.

"Belle has finally learned the art of the bath?" He was surprised.

"She has tried," Alette said, laughing.

Hugh turned about and hurried to the bathing chamber, eager for the delights that awaited him. Since that time several months ago when Alette had attempted to teach her daughter how to bathe a guest, Isabelle had refused to have anything to do with such labor. He was curious to learn what had changed her mind in the matter.

"Do not dally, my lord," she told him sharply as he entered the bathing room. "The water is nicely hot, and it will soon be time for the meal. Quickly, remove your garments!"

They were alone in the bath.

"What, madame? Is it not your duty to help me off with my clothing?" he demanded, seating himself upon a stool. "Come, assist me with my boots, Belle." He looked to her, eyes dancing with amusement.

"Are you such a child, then," Belle grumbled, but she came and pulled his boots off his big feet.

Reaching out, Hugh tumbled her into his lap, kissing her soundly. A hand slid swiftly up her skirts, stroking the soft inside of her thigh.

Belle sighed, the sound one of pleasure. Then struggling up, she smacked him playfully. "My lord!" She was a picture of perfect outrage. "This is not the time for such folderol. Stand up!" She yanked his tunic over his head, laying it aside. Beneath he wore only a linen sherte, for the weather was warm. Unlacing it, she drew it off of him, too. "Take your own braies off," she ordered him. "I must see to the bathwater. It is probably cold at this point." Her cheeks were flushed. Was it the heat or the state of his sex, very visible and obviously eager, beneath his drawers?

Hugh slipped out of the remainder of his garments while Belle made a great show of testing the bathwater, adding a bit of scented oil, choosing the correct soap pot, gathering her washing cloths and brush.

"Get in! Get in!" She gestured at him with an impatient hand.

Hugh mounted the stone steps and climbed into the big tub. "Ahhhh," he moaned as the hot water immediately began to ease his aching muscles, for he had been riding for several days. He slid deeper into the water. "Ahh, ma Belle, this is heaven. You must come and join me, cherie. I have missed you."

"Do not be ridiculous," Isabelle said primly. "Now, behave yourself, my lord, and let me do my duty." She picked up a cloth.

"But can you not do it better in here with me?" he teased her.

She glared at him, muttering about the foolishness of men; shrieking with complete surprise as he reached out, dragging her down into the tub with him. "Hugh! You have gone mad!" She struggled to arise, but his arms wrapped themselves about her. "Let me go, you great oaf! The water will shrink my gown! Let me go!"

"Take your clothing off, ma Belle douce," he crooned at her. Then his fingers began loosening her skirts, sliding them off her, tossing them in a sodden heap upon the floor. "Your tunic, madame," he ordered her, helping her to get the soaking garment off to join the skirts. Unlacing her chemise, he flung it across the room. Fortunately, she wore no shoes in the bathing chamber, and her braid was pinned up. "Now, madame," he growled at her, "I would have the warm welcome from you that you earlier denied me." His mouth descended bruisingly upon hers.

Belle's head spun with delight. Ohh, how she missed him! Cradled in his lap in the tub, she could feel his manhood, stone hard, eager for her. One arm cradled her while his other hand played with her own burgeoning little sex, his fingers pushing into her creaminess while she moaned against his lips.

"Have you missed me, ma Belle?" he murmured against her mouth. The fingers pushed deep and rhythmically inside her.

"I ... hardly noticed your ... absence, my lord. There ... was much to ... do," Belle fibbed, and then she shuddered with her first release.

Hugh lifted her slightly, turning her to face him, and lowered her onto his own raging weapon, groaning as she sheathed him. "You lie," he said through gritted teeth, his big hands cupping her taut buttocks.

She slipped her arm about his neck, riding him smoothly while his lips moved slowly, deliberately, over her straining throat, across her swelling breasts with their aching nipples. "You're a wicked man, Hugh Fauconier," she purred at him. "Ahhh! Ohhhhh!" she moaned, her eyes closing as he released his passion into her, filling her full. Belle fell forward onto his shoulder as Hugh's arms embraced her. They lay that way, sated and contented, for some minutes, and then Belle opened her eyes with a start.

"Oh, Holy Mother!" she gasped. "They won't sit down to the meal in the hall until we come. How long have we been like this?" She scrambled from the tub, the water sluicing down her lush body, causing his lust to renew itself. "Wash yourself quickly, my lord," she said, flinging a cloth at him. "I must hurry to dress, and I shall bring your fresh clothes to you. Oh, hurry!"

In the hall they heard him laughing, and when the lord and lady of the manor appeared after some minutes, no one dared to mention that Isabelle was wearing different garments. The servants began trouping in from the kitchens below, carrying dishes from which arose delicious odors. At the high board they were offered broiled river perch caught that same afternoon, roasted duck, venison pie, broiled rabbit, a thick vegetable pottage, peas, bread, butter, and cheese. Both wine and ale were offered to those at the high board. Below the salt, however, the menu was less lavish. There was salted fish, broiled rabbit, a pottage, bread, and cheese. There was plenty of food, for Isabelle would not stint their retainers, and the ale flowed freely.

Hugh ate with gusto, as did Belle, but both were anxious to retire to the solar to feed the lust they had just barely stoked in the bathing chamber. Each cast surreptitious glances at the other, their eyes moving guiltily away when they met. Their hands touched and they started, laughing nervously. Patiently, they waited for the servants to clear the dishes away. Two young serfs came into the hall, one with a drum, the other with a reed instrument. They began to play softly by the fire. When Rolf drolly suggested to Hugh that they play a board game, Langston's lord arose, stretching and yawning with much show.

"I've ridden long and hard these past days," he said. "I think I shall find my bed now. Isabelle, will you come, too, or remain in the hall entertaining your mother and stepfather?"

"Ohh, I'm very tired, too," Belle said, jumping up and hurrying after her husband.

Rolf chuckled wickedly. "Hugh will ride a good deal more before the dawn, I think; and Belle be twice as tired before the sun rises."

"You are very naughty, my lord," Alette chided him, laughing.

"I must hang my garments up to dry," Belle said as they entered the solar. "I have not so many gowns that I can be wasteful."

"Hurry!" he commanded her, and when she joined him, said, "You have kept me waiting, ma Belle. You must be punished," and turning her over his knee, he spanked her bare bottom twice before turning her back again to kiss her.

Belle only laughed at him. "You will have to toughen your hand in brine, my lord, if you truly mean to chastise me," she teased him. "Those were but love taps you just gave me." She wiggled her bottom provocatively in his lap, feeling his instant response.

Standing up, he tossed her onto their bed and flung himself atop her, pinioning her beneath him. "Hellion," he growled in her ear. "Shall I never tame you?"

"No," she laughed again, "you shall not! A tame little wife would quickly bore you, Hugh Fauconier. I am not one of your little birds, to be wheedled into obedience, nor would you want me that way."

"I am not so certain it is a wise thing that you know me so well, ma Belle douce," he told her.

She slipped her arms about his neck and drew his mouth down to hers. "A wife should know her lord," she murmured low against his mouth. Then she nibbled gently upon his lower lip. "How can she please him if she knows him not?" Her hand ruffled through his tawny gold hair.

"Do you want to please me, ma Belle?" he half groaned. She was driving him wild with desire. The luxurious feeling of her firm young breasts against his bare chest was wonderful. The nipples stabbing him were like sharp little stones. Shifting himself, he fastened his mouth over one and began to suckle strongly upon it.

Lightning forked through her body at the insistent tug of his lips. She almost purred with the pleasure he was giving her.

He lifted his head a moment, his eyes meeting hers. Then he repeated his question. "Do you want to please me, ma Belle?" His mouth found her other breast and he bit gently down on it.

"Ahhh," she cried low. The slightly painful sensation was really quite delicious. "Sometimes I want to please you," she admitted.

Hugh raised his head again. "Now?" he said.

"A-Aye," Belle responded softly. Her hand touched his face, her fingers following the line of his jaw, brushing softly over his lips, which kissed the slender digits before he separated one from the others, drawing it into his mouth to slowly suck upon. Belle could feel a tightening in her nether regions, an ache starting to build in her lower belly. "Hugh," was all she could say.

Releasing her hand, he drew her over into the curve of his arm. "I am very passionate, Belle," he began, "and I have missed my wife. I am not a man to diddle a pretty serf in a hay pile or beneath a hedge. Since the morning I left you, I have had no woman beneath me. I have been gentle with you so far, but tonight I do not know if I can be gentle. I desire you greatly, cherie." His big hand smoothed her tangled red-gold hair, sliding down its length, slipping over the curve of her hip, down her thigh. "All those nights we were parted, Belle, I thought of you. Of your milk-white skin, and your fiery hair; of your mysterious green-gold eyes, and your luscious body. But I thought as much of your youthful wisdom, your loyalty, your deep love of Langston and its people." His hand moved up again now, catching her chin between his fingers, lifting her gaze to his. "I thought of how you will fight for what you believe in, and of your temper, which sometimes outruns your good sense. As much as I love my family; as happy as I was to see my grandparents; I realized that all I wanted to do was gather my birds and come home to you, Belle. Do you know what I am saying to you, cherie?"

Isabelle's eyes were filled with tears, but her voice was strong when she answered him. "You are saying that you love me, Hugh, and I am right glad of it, for I love you, too!"

Their lips met, gently at first, and then fiercely as their passion built. Her lush mouth softened beneath his hard one, yielding, giving, until the kiss seemed without either beginning or end. His lips traveled over her straining throat, across her chest, her breasts. Isabelle sighed deeply, her hands brushing over his skin with little feathery touches. Her breasts felt swollen, enormous, near to bursting from their skin. When he tongued her nipples, she whimpered, for it actually hurt her. His teeth grazed over the tender flesh, and Belle moaned.

Now his head was moving lower down her torso. For a moment she stiffened, but then her body relaxed. This was her husband. Her love. Her Hugh. And he had never before been this bold with her. His mouth pressed a warm kiss in her navel and moved on across the taut flesh. She almost stopped breathing when he kissed the insides of both of her thighs, but then he moved on, trailing a ribbon of little kisses down her legs, finishing with each foot. Belle giggled nervously.

Hugh startled her, however, with his next action. Slowly, slowly, his tongue began to retrace the path his lips had but recently taken, moving from the tip of her toes, up her legs to the shadowed insides of her thighs. Pushing her limbs apart, he buried his head in the nest of blazing red curls, inhaling her special fragrance. Isabelle gasped, shocked, her head spinning wildly, but there was more to come. She felt him opening her, his tongue seeking, seeking. Seeking what?

"Ahh, Holy Mother!" she cried as he obviously found what he had sought and his tongue moved relentlessly back and forth over her little pleasure pearl, releasing myriad frenzied sensations that rendered her faint, but yet conscious to enjoy the delicious madness that was now permeating her body and soul. She thrashed beneath his sweet mouth, aching, flying, struggling to reach the crest of the mountain; and then her passion culminated in a violent crescendo that for a moment seemed to break her entire being open, rendering her helpless as the sweetness poured over her, and she wept.

At that moment he entered her, his manhood sweeping up her channel, filling her with throbbing warmth and life. He licked the tears from her cheeks, kissing her tenderly. He took her fiercely, driving himself and her hard, feeling the hot tightening of her. Then it seemed as if she were drawing him into her body so deeply that he thought she would swallow him entirely. He could feel her fingers digging, digging, into the flesh of his buttocks, her slender legs wrapping themselves about his torso.

"Belle! Belle!" he groaned. "You are killing me." Then he felt himself swelling, ripening within her, followed by blessed relief as his passion burst itself, flooding her with his love. To his great surprise, he too wept.

She wrapped her arms about him, kissing his face frantically. "What else are you keeping from me, my lord?" she managed to gasp.

Hugh laughed weakly, rolling off her. "You are wonderful, ma Belle douce, my sweet wife. I adore you!"

She said nothing, instead drawing him to her to rest his head upon her breasts. He felt her kiss upon his hair, and then, arms about him, she grew still, her rhythmic breathing lulling him into sleep.

When he awoke just before dawn he found himself still in her arms. He had never, he realized, in all his life felt so safe, and so at home. "I love you, Belle," he said low.

Surprising him, for he had thought her still asleep, she replied, "And I love you, Hugh."

"How long have you been awake?" he asked her.

"A moment or two," she said, "no more."

Raising his head, he gazed into her eyes. "What would you like to do today, ma Belle? Would you like to see the bird I have chosen to be yours? She is a fine little merlin."

Belle smiled, rolling onto her side, and nodded. "What other birds did you bring, my lord?" she asked. "Rolf has explained to me that you have both long-winged and short-winged hawks, but he said you would tell me the varieties you have."

"I have brought two breeding pair each of gyrfalcons, peregrines, and merlins. These are the long-wings. The first two are quite large birds. They hunt small to medium-sized game, and all manner of waterfowl. The merlins are littler birds, and hunt small creatures, both winged and four-footed." Now he rolled over and, pushing the pillows behind him, sat up. "I have two varieties of short-winged birds, goshawks and sparrow hawks. I have also brought a number of young birds, yet to be trained."

"I want to see my merlin," Belle said, climbing naked from their bed. "What is she like? Is she a good huntress?"

He laughed at her enthusiasm. "I shall tell you nothing, madame. You must see for yourself. You must first think of a name for her, for each bird has its own name to which it answers."

They hurried to bathe the excesses of their passion away, and then dressed, stopping briefly in the hall to snatch pieces of bread with toasted cheese, which they quickly ate. Hugh's three falconers were already about their business as they approached the mews. Several birds were set out upon the stone blocks, weathering. The falconers nodded politely to their master and mistress.

"I have brought my lady to see her merlin," Hugh announced.

"Her be a fine little bird," Alain said approvingly.

Hugh led Belle into the mews and over to a low perch where two small birds sat unhooded. Reaching out, Hugh took the larger of the two upon his hand. "Here she is, ma Belle."

"She has few feathers," Belle noted, her disappointment evident.

He laughed softly, so as not to startle the creature he held. "She was just born this spring, cherie. Her parents are magnificent, and she gives promise of being even better."

"Why can I not have a fully grown bird?" Belle wondered.

"Because I want you to help with the training of your merlin," Hugh said. "That means you must devise a whistle signal to which she, and no other bird, will answer. She must bond with you, and be yours alone. To do this with a bird, you must be a part of her training. Now, what will you name her? No one else may name her but you, ma Belle."

Suddenly, the little falcon stretched her neck out and delicately nipped at Isabelle's sleeve.

Startled, she drew back, but then laughed. "She has named herself, my lord. 'Couper' is her name. I think it appropriate."

Hugh set the bird back on its perch. Couper, the French for nip. He chuckled. "Aye, 'tis a good name for her."

"How am I to train her?" Belle asked. "I know nothing about hawks. My father once had a peregrine, but I was not allowed to touch it."

"Couper," he said, "has already been prepared for her training. Her talons have been trimmed. Some people seal a young bird's eyes by temporarily sewing them shut. I do not. I prefer to use a hood." He held up a small leather cap that he now fit over the merlin's head. "She is quite used to it," he said. "You can see the strips of leather with their brass ringed ends fastened about her legs. They are called jesses. The tiny bells attached to her feet allow the falconer to ascertain her movements." He gently stroked the young bird. "Couper has already been taught to stand on a hand. Now, Belle, I want you to whistle a phrase of song. Then put your hand against the merlin's chest, encouraging her to step on it. You must always whistle the same few notes, cherie. It is a signal between you. That way no one can steal your bird away from you, for it is not just the music itself that Couper will obey, it is your tone which cannot be imitated."

Belle thought a moment, and then whistled four short, sweet notes while at the same time pressing her hand gently against the bird's chest. The falcon hesitated, but Belle whistled her notes again, her hand insistent. Couper stepped upon the young woman's hand, and Belle caught her breath in wonder, her hand reaching out to caress the merlin. The bird was dusky brown with a darker banded tail. She chittered softly at Belle's touch, shifting herself nervously.

"Walk about with her," Hugh commanded his wife, "and talk to her. She needs the reassurance of your gentle voice."

"Oh, Couper," Belle said softly, "you are such a beautiful little maiden, or at least you will be when you are fully feathered. I love you already. We are going to be great friends, are we not, ma petite? We will learn together, for I have never had a falcon, nor have you ever had a mistress, but Hugh says your parents are fine birds, so you must be a fine bird, too. It would not do to disgrace your family now, would it?"

Hugh watched the girl moving about murmuring to the young falcon. Now and again he could make out a word or two, but Belle's conversation was for her merlin alone. Occasionally she would stroke the creature, who quickly became used to her light, gentle touch. Finally, after a few minutes had passed, Hugh said, "Bring Couper here, ma Belle. I want you to feed her. Lind," he called to the young falconer, "bring the bucket."

Isabelle turned, surprised, for she had not noticed anyone else in the mews before, but now she could see that both Lind and Faer were there. She blushed, thankful she had not been intimate with Hugh before strangers. "What is in the bucket?" she asked her husband, attempting to cover her confusion and shyness before Lind and Faer.

"Chicken," Hugh told her. "Take a piece, and feed it to Couper."

Lind held up the bucket, and Belle drew out a section of raw poultry, offering it to Couper, who greedily snatched it from her mistress's hand using her beak and a single claw. She began to tear apart her breakfast while standing upon her other foot.

Isabelle laughed softly. "You are very greedy, ma petite," she said. "You have, I can see, a great zest for life." She allowed the bird to continue to perch upon her hand while it ate. When the falcon had finished her meal, Isabelle carefully placed her back upon her perch, crooning to her, telling her how good she was.

Hugh nodded his approval, his eyes meeting those of the two falconers, who nodded back at their lord, smiling. "There is a leash attached to the perch, cherie," Hugh said to Belle. "Tie it to one of the rings and make it fast. That way Couper is unable to leave the mews, but the leash is long enough that she may fly, yet always return to her correct perch."

Isabelle did as he bid her, and then together they left the mews to return to the hall. "Couper is wonderful!" she enthused. "I love her already, my lord. Thank you."

"You have done very well for a first lesson, ma Belle, but the lessons will get harder, I warn you. Still, I think it important for you to train Couper yourself. It will teach you the value of the birds and the care that must be taken with them. Many," he explained, "take the birds from their nests in the wild. That is far too simple, and depletes their population. It is harder to breed them and train them. The birds bred and trained by the Merlin-sone family are prized in both England and in Normandy because they are taught well. They are healthy. Each day from now on you will work with Lind to train Couper."

"More lessons?" she teased him.

He smiled as they entered the hall. "Father Bernard tells me you write a fine hand now, cherie, and your reading skills grow with each passing day. I am proud of you."

"I can both read and write in English and in French, my lord," she said, "and soon I shall begin Latin. Father Bernard says I have a head for learning, unnatural as that may be in a woman. He grumbles greatly at me about it, but then he says he must continue to teach me else he might not be prepared when we give him children to teach. I am learning my numbers, too. It is far easier than when I had to keep everything in my head," Isabelle admitted.