Bound to My Lord

By Laura Hault

Torn from the only home she’s ever truly known, young Lady Eleanor is thrust into the home of Lord William, a man she is forced to marry at the word of her uncle, the king. Isolated and alone, she struggles to know her husband, but he is cold and distant. That is, until he comes to her bedchamber.

William awakens new desires within Lady Eleanor that she never knew one could have. Things she imaged as dark, sinful, she learns she craves within her very soul. With William to guide her, she learns of lust and need.

As Lord William teaches Eleanor the ways of passion, she slowly teaches him the ways of love. Locked away in the cold winter of Northumberland, together they begin to awaken new things within each other, things neither ever dared to dream for. 

Though not all is well as forces transpire to tear the lady from her lord…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jynxed Moon
• Release date: Jul 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386662426

Book preview

Chapter 1

1198

It was almost as if my body could feel the ominous winds of change flow through me on that fateful morn. I was partaking in my morning studies with the Bishop Edwyn over a breakfast in the courtyard, the sounds of birds in the distance seemingly calling to me with every cry. Despite the sun dappled morning, the clouds in the distance told a different story and I was not shocked when the men came marching through the carefully planted gardens that surrounded the manor I’d called my home since I was ten years old. It was as if the air around them could stir up a darkened storm with every footstep as they approached.

Ignoring me, the leader of this small troop spoke directly to the bishop and as they spoke my world shattered around me. Our lord is defeated, announced the captain, and then he turned his attention to me and took a knee. My lady, the count fell to protect the Holy Land from the infidels who would have us washed from this earth. He is with our Lord Christ. With those few words my chest tightened, my head grew faint. It was all I could do not to collapse as my handmaidens gathered by my side, trying to steady me as they hurried me inside while the captain and Bishop Edwyn debated over what the future held for my adopted home.

Though I was a wreck with grief it was not my husband that I mourned. He was a pious man who I had hardly seen since I had been sent to him from my native England to be his wife at the tender age of ten. We had rarely crossed paths until I was but thirteen and he twenty when we were married in the eyes of the church. Even then, married in front of our Lord, we shared little, always leading separate lives. When he was called off to defend the Holy Land less than a year into our marriage for the Lord’s third Crusade, I remained in his grand manor in the warm lands of Aquitaine, alone and still as pure as before we were married.

This had always suited me fine. My husband, the little I’d seen of him, was always a kind man and never once tried to enter my bedchamber. I would always much rather concern myself with my studies of the worlds both around me and above me. The books, with their faded writing, filled many rooms in our great home and I wanted to read them all. My life here was the perfect arrangement; I read, my husband studied the teachings of the Lord when he was not entertaining other lords, and we left each other alone. Now that was all thrown to the winds. My life here was about to be turned upside down and that was the cause of my mourning. Not half-way into my eighteenth year on this earth I was now a widow, and still unknown to a man’s touch.

For months I was left almost entirely alone in the large manor that had been my home for more than eight years, but in my heart I had never truly viewed it as a home. With my husband gone the invitations to banquets and feasts soon slowed, and then disappeared altogether. Being a young widow in a still foreign land had made me something of a pariah, but I forced myself to keep my head held high. Being alone was not a bother to me, nor would I let it be.

My only visitor was Bishop Edwyn, a kind old priest with deep set wrinkles and a slightly hunched back, who visited me often. He had to be sure that I was not tempted into sin with the passing of my husband. If he only knew of my aversion to the idea of the sins he meant I’m certain his pestering would cease. But his visits were a welcome reprieve from my otherwise lonely times on the continent.

As the summer winds turned colder and the leaves began to turn vibrant shades of fiery reds and orange it was Bishop Edwyn who came to visit me while I took a mid-afternoon rest in my private sitting room, choosing to avoid both the servants and any rare visitor who may approach. But for him I made an exception and allowed him entrance.

My Lady Eleanor, Bishop Edwyn said as he entered my chambers. I am so terribly sorry for interrupting you while you rested. A woman in mourning needs all the time she can afford, but I bring word from our late lord’s brother. As he spoke I tried to hold back panicked tears, even though I knew what the bishop had come here to announce. It had been months since my husband’s passing and his brother was to inherit his lands and titles, and that meant I would no longer have this place to call home. Despite my panic I tried to appear strong and I allowed the bishop to continue.

Word has been sent to your uncle, King Richard of the count’s heroic passing and the shift of titles to his brother. The inheritance of this land will fall to your husband’s brother, and I have no doubt that his highness King Richard will find you a suitable... He paused for a second, trying to gently broach the subject of a new marriage while I was still in mourning of my first husband’s death. A suitable future.

A future he found indeed, and when word arrived less from my uncle than a month later I was quickly packed up and sailing back across the English Channel to meet my new betrothed. It had been almost ten years since I left my father’s home for my husband’s and I had not returned to England since, not even when both my parents fell ill and died when I was fifteen. Aquitaine was my home, its sunny skies and warm days, its rich foods and delicious wines. England was foreign to me, and now the best I could hope for was that I still remembered the language.

In many ways I was considered quite lucky. My uncle was King of England and my great-aunt, now Queen Reagent, was originally from the land I now called home, and I was unwaveringly proud that I was her namesake. When I arrived in their court I was welcomed warmly and informed that yes, a suitable match for me had been made. The man I was set to marry was described as strong, a heroic soldier and fiercely loyal to his king. His reward for fighting loyally by the king’s side during an uprising years ago had been the title of earl and several castles in the north. Now I was being added to his rewards as well as a dowry from both my late husband and from the king himself.

All this good news could not hide one fact. I would not meet my husband until he arrived for our wedding. I had been told he was a straightforward man and our ceremony would be brief with a feast to follow with the king and queen in attendance. Ladies chattered incessantly in my ears over the next three days about how lucky I was with this turn of events, but I could not shake a sense of dread. I had met many soldiers, and none struck me as the type that would match my first husband, a union I knew I was, in many ways, lucky to have.

When word came that my groom-to-be had arrived in London the night before, preparations began for my second wedding, and that evening we were to be formally introduced at court, whether I was prepared for it or not.

Before we were to be introduced formally a bevy of ladies entered my borrowed chambers and brought in a gown for that night’s feast. It was expected that I would appear young and virginal, but enticing. Despite my earlier marriage the rumours abounded that I was still pure and there was no reason for me, nor anyone, to dispute them. There was no sense complicated matters with childish gossip and rumours.

The gown I was brought was of burnished copper and glinted in the sun that poured through the windows of my chamber. My hair was fashioned in a simple knot with most of my auburn hair flowing down my back, creating an image that I couldn’t deny looked lovely, despite how much I didn’t wish to feel lovely. I wished to return to what was my home, to be done with this proposed union. There was no doubt in my mind that my second husband would be more lustful than my first. It was inevitable that he would visit my bedchamber and for that I was truly nervous.

My great-aunt, the Queen Reagent herself, was the one to lead me into the great hall of the palace where I was to be formally introduced to my future groom, and as we entered the large hall where lords and ladies awaited us I held my breath, unsure if I could breathe at all.

Ahem, my uncle barked as he cleared his throat and everyone in the hall rose. I would like to formally introduce my good friend and confidant, Sir William Braund, Earl of Northumberland to my radiant niece, the Lady Eleanor de Barbarac.

It was then that I was finally able to see my future groom. He was tall, almost a foot above me in stature. His face was strong, square jawed, his green eyes focused, powerful. I was told he had yet to turn thirty but deep lines formed across his forehead; signs of a man who had seen war. His dark hair was brushed away from his face and I tried to take in as much as I could. While my first husband had been considered pretty, my second was what people would easily call rugged.

While I tried to look pious, yet confident, my groom looked almost furious at our pairing as he looked at me. As I looked him over he did the same to me, made no mention of his apparent distaste towards our union.

I had my reasons for being unhappy with this union, but I wondered what his could be. By all standards I made for a good, if not exemplary wife. It was common gossip that I was proven pure, I brought a large dowry to the marriage, our union was proposed by his Highness King Richard himself, and by all accounts I was found to be at least mildly attractive. In fact, my looks were almost opposite of my husband’s. While his stature was tall and strong, mine was petite and soft. Sometimes I’d even been described as frail. His hair, dark as night, contrasted against my copperish brown, and while we shared green eyes mine were large and set wide on my face, not focused as were his.

What confused me most of all was if he was so upset by this union, why not just back out? I didn’t have that choice, but surely a man of the status of earl and a good friend to the king himself could have any consort he wished, but now we were to wed and he seemed to be put there more against his will than I.

Through dinner my future husband and I were left to sit beside each other in an uneasy silence while plates of fine meats, breads, and cheeses were served to us. Quietly I ate while my future groom did not pay me a single glance, his focus turned to King Richard and many servings of wine. Their conversation focused on finding an opportunity to hunt before we were to leave the capital, something they both seemed to take rather seriously.

It was not until after dinner was finished and dances were begun that I was given my first chance to speak to my groom. While the court danced my groom finally took the opportunity to actually speak to me, his soon-to-be wife.

Lady Eleanor, he approached with tense speech, his strong jaw clenched.

My lord, I returned, giving a deep curtsey. What is it that I can do for you? I asked, my head bowed low, expressing my submission to my future groom.

I want a better look at you, he said, his haughty voice barely above a whisper. Before I could question his motives he pulled me away from the crowd and now had my chin in his strong hand while he examined my face.

Is it true you never knew the touch of your first husband? he breathed into my ear. Hot wine was on his breath and I squirmed, trying to get him to release his grip, but he held on tighter, grabbing my wrist with his free hand. Answer me, he commanded as he pulled me in close, the heat of his words on my face.

Yes, my lord, it’s true, I admitted, a flurry of panic rising in my belly. As he looked over me I in turn did the same, despite the panic rising in me. His eyes were a brilliant green and his cheeks flushed with wine. With my face held firmly in his strong hand I felt my cheeks flush to match his, though I had barely touched the wine that was served. Something about his approach, how he held me, sent my heart racing and I could not be sure if it was fear I felt, or something different.

Do you understand what your wifely duties are? he asked, gently squeezing both his hands as he asked, his face so close to mine I could feel his lips on my earlobes. I did what I could to nod, my chin still held by his grip. Did you resist your first husband? he softly growled at me.

No, my lord, I managed to whisper. He never tried to, to... I couldn’t finish the sentence, but that didn’t seem to matter to my betrothed.

With his words my breath hitched in my chest. Despite my fear there was a heat rising in me, and from Lord Braund’s eyes I could see he had noticed the change in me. This recognition seemed to push him farther, making him bolder as he leaned in close to me, his face only inches from mine.

And you will not resist me, your husband? This time he released his grip enough for me to answer with a sharp nod and he seemed satisfied. Without another word he returned to the party, but now his face seemed more relaxed, more at ease. He had gotten the answers he wanted, and in a way I had, too.

The tables had turned so quickly that it left my head spinning. I knew I wouldn’t be able to maintain a confident façade after that confusing encounter. This was to be my husband? A man who was that concerned with my ability to lie with him? I ran to the room my uncle lent me for my stay and buried myself into my pillow. Before I was apprehensive, now I was troubled, confused even. How could I try to understand my future groom if I was not even sure of my own intentions?

Everything was made worse when my handmaidens came bustling in some time later with the happy news that my husband wanted us wed as soon as possible. The ceremony was being planned by my future husband and uncle, and with luck only I could have been fated, the ceremony was to fall on my nineteenth birthday.

Chapter 2

Good morrow, my dear, my great aunt, and namesake, the Queen Regent Eleanor greeted me as I was roused from my bed. Despite her being family I scrambled to present myself in the manner becoming of the Queen, but she laughed and invited me to sit with her while servants brought us breakfast.

Did you have a chance to speak with your future husband? she asked as she looked over the food that had been placed in front of us. I shifted in my chair, debating the best way to answer this question truthfully, but without revealing my anxieties.

Briefly, I mustered finally.

He is the aggressive sort, truly. She laughed. The only way to deal with aggressive men is to meet them head on. My face must have revealed my shock at the thought and she laughed again. You have nothing to worry about. Sir William is very loyal to my son and will not go against your union so long as Richard has anything to say about it.

Your grace, I said, trying to muster courage. I have to ask you something about my duties as a wife.

So the rumours are true, she said with a smirk. I always wondered about your first husband, a good man but scared of women, yes? I nodded in answer to her question, but there was more to it than just that.

It’s true he never visited me in my chambers, I said, full of shame. But I, too, never did anything to try to help matters. I never had the desire to.

That’s normal, my dear! She said, taking my hand in hers. Don’t worry, I am quite sure this won’t be an issue with your second marriage. Lord William has quite a reputation. This did not help matters. I knew it was customary for noble men to keep mistresses and dally about, but it made for a heavy heart, even with only meeting the man once. He is fiercely loyal, the Queen said, trying to comfort me. He may keep his attentions solely on you, at least for a while.

Is there anything else you can tell me about the man who is to become my groom? I asked, wanting to at least be prepared for what path my life was about to take.

He is strong, she said, thinking, and an excellent soldier. He is known for being quiet, but with a few drinks in him he can be quite fun. Since being given the title in Northumberland he rarely visits London unless my son calls upon him. There are some disputes for the lands in the north so it is wise of him to not be gone long.

I thought over her words while we enjoyed breakfast. Maybe the wine and ale were the cause for my betrothed’s behaviour the night before. Quiet I could handle; quiet was good.

As we finished, a knock came at the door and three women showed themselves in, carrying a long white gown with fur trim in with them.

Oh here it is, Queen Eleanor said and stood to examine the gown. My Lady Eleanor, this will be what you’ll be wearing tomorrow.

Tomorrow? I choked on the last nibble of my breakfast, a little too nervous to eat much at all.

Of course, she said, examining the hemming on the dress. I said Sir William does not like to be kept from his lands long, and you must have made quite an impression last night because he insisted on being wed as quickly as possible.

I apologize, your grace, I forced myself as it was expected of me as a lady. It just seems time is moving so quickly.

That it will, her highness agreed. Please get yourself dressed and don’t let yourself stay holed up in here all day.

The Queen Reagent had not been fibbing. The castle was in a flurry to prepare for our wedding feast. I had taken a short walk around the grounds with my borrowed handmaidens under swelling grey skies. While they would not be joining me after the wedding, it was necessary that they assist with everything that needed to be done in such a short time. Even bundled in layers of fur robes the early November day was too cold to be outside long, and watching the activity in the castle made my head spin, so I resigned myself to my chambers for my last day as a widow.

At the dawn of my wedding day I felt like I should be walking with the dead. My anxieties had kept me from sleeping at all and the women bustling around my chambers tried desperately to hide the exhaustion on my face, clucking their tongues as they applied powders here and there, but nothing seemed to work. It was finally decided that they would resign themselves to my tired appearance, despite their best efforts.

Just as we were to set out, me in my magnificent gown with trimmings of fox fur and threads of gold, the heavens themselves opened up with a thunderous boom. With the thunder came torrential rain and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. There was no way we could get married today. To subject the court to a wedding in a November rain could mean a death sentence for some, and I tried to hide my elation in the fact that the ceremony would have to be postponed until calmer skies prevailed.

The ladies clucked their disappointment in the turn of events and started to help me out of the gown. Just as I was about to let the gown drop to my feet the door swung open and my aunt stood there and told the women to hurry, the carriages had arrived.

But your grace, one of them women said. The rain and thunder.

Yes, yes, her highness tutted, unconcerned. The groom has insisted the wedding go on, so get to it now.

I stood, mouth agape, as the Queen showed herself out and the women resumed dressing me and ushering me out the door towards the castle doors. Words were not spoken as I was helped to the carriage through heavy rains. I couldn’t even hear the footsteps of the two big black horses pulling the carriage over the sounds of rain and thunder.

The abbey was not far, but I wished for the journey to take all but a lifetime. The butterflies that danced in my stomach refused to settle and I was ushered from the carriage and into the abbey as quickly as possible, but I and all the guests could not avoid the heavy curtain of rain.

Our vows were short; the bishop spoke quickly as everyone made it apparent that after coming out in the rain they wanted to return to feast on warm food and good ale as quickly as possible. Everything was like a blur, me pledging to be a true and loyal wife, to obey my husband, and us being joined in the eyes of God himself. The bishop had barely finished the ceremony before I was packed back up in the carriage to return to my uncle’s castle to feast in celebration of the new union.

The servants must have spent every waking moment preparing for the feast, for when we entered the great hall had been transformed. Banners with the House Braund sigil, a red stag upon a gold banner, hung side by side with the king’s three lions, turning the hall into a fiery tapestry of red and gold with torchlight reflecting off the banners and illuminating the hall. Guests arrived and hushed mumbles of awe were heard rising from the crowd as they entered.

My uncle was the one to escort me into the great hall and I was seated at a long table beside my new husband who looked solemn but not entirely unhappy, unlike our first meeting. To his left, King Richard himself found his place and he stood before the food was served with all eyes of the guests that had come to celebrate our union on him.

Thank you all for gathering today to witness the union of my dear friend, Sir William Braund, Earl of Northumberland to my beautiful niece, the Lady Eleanor. I hope the Lord sees fit to bless their union with many sons. I know William will be apt to start his attempts at that! The crowd roared with laughter but my face flushed red with shame and embarrassment of such a crowd knowing about such intimate details of our future together.

But all laughter aside, my uncle continued, a little more solemnly. I wish this lovely, well joined union great happiness. May their marriage bring them much joy! With that, the whole crowd cheered for our marriage, but I could not bring myself to share in their exuberance.

After the king’s quick speech we were served a huge feast of pheasant, boar, beef, and heavily buttered dishes. Everyone around me ate and enjoyed the meal, but I couldn’t bring myself to do more than push around the food in front of me, unable to take more than a few nibbles.

You should eat, my new husband whispered in my ear. His voice was stern but gentle, sounding more concerned than angry. I thanked him for his concern, but admitted I wasn’t hungry. He sighed, but did not argue as he finished his meal and drank back the last of his ale, then stood to speak.

My friends, William said to the crowd. I am deeply moved that you could be here for my wedding to my beautiful new wife, the Lady Eleanor. It moves me beyond words to see your smiling faces here today. The crowd let out soft words of approval and William continued. But despite your great generosity I hate to say we must be leaving with some haste. I have been away from the lands I am sworn to protect for far too long, and threats in the north are always strong. It is with a heavy heart that my wife and I say good-bye, and thank you. The crowd let out their disappointment in our departure, but there were no grievances; in fact people thought it admirable that my husband was so dedicated to upholding the peace in England.

My husband’s strong hand slipped under my arm and lifted me up, his grip a little too tight for comfort. Once I was on my feet he slipped a hand around my waist, his hand firm against my gown, pulling me towards his body as we walked away from the feast, the sounds of drunken men cheering behind us.

The rain refused to let up as we reached the carriages that were waiting for us. I was ushered into the last of the carriages while my husband left for another. All together there were three black carriages, and we set out north towards a land I’d never seen before for the second time in my nineteen years.

Upon that thought another came to me like a lightning strike. I suddenly was reminded that today, in fact, was the date of my birth and not one mention of it had been made. As