March 2006

Maeve heard it through the trees--soft singing and whistling that lifted her spirits and drew her further into the greenwood. On this fine spring day, she’d slipped out to gather flowers and herbs, not planning to go far, though being away from home was her preference. But the music was sweet, and she, whose happiness was often small, took joy from it.

Coming where she could overlook a brookside glade from a thicket, she found the source of the music. A dark, lanky man was cleaning his camp, whistling and singing the while. She stayed where she was, watching him at work, listening to his music, and liking what she saw.

Then, after some time, the man spoke, saying, “Whoever you are, you can come out now--I’m safe enough for you.”

Maeve stepped back and went around the bush-clump she’d lurked in, and walked down into the glade.

When he saw Maeve, he doffed his cap, bowed mockingly, and said, “Welcome, milady. Have you come far this day?”

“Not but a little way. My father’s castle lies just beyond the wood. Your music drew me here, Master Gypsy. Do go on,” she said, as she sat herself on a dry rock.

“No gypsy am I, though I’m of the travelin’ kind, milady. But it’s the music, is it? Very well, then,” he said, while sitting down with a small harp. “And what sort of tune would the lady care for this day? Niall am I, and for you I’ll play or sing.”

Gifting him with a smile, Maeve said, “I am Maeve, and I liked what you whistled and sang before. Is there more like that?”

“Maeve, is it now? And well-named you are, for merely the sight of you could intoxicate a man. As for the music before, why that was just me larkin’ about, wasn’t it? But sit you there, and I’ll sing to you of a man and a maid.”

And Niall did sing of courting, and of love, and Maeve did find her heart melting. They talked, and he sang, and the day slipped away, until the sound of church-bells came.

“Och! ‘Tis late--I must finish my gathering and return home. Will you be here tomorrow, Master Niall?”

“Why, I’ve no reason to be leavin’ this place yet, do I? If you seek me, me you’ll find.”

Maeve went off down the path, found some flowers nodding to the brook they grew beside, gathered them and returned to the castle.

As she went about her evening tasks, she thought of Niall, and her thoughts were such as to cause dismay in her father if he’d known. She remembered how his strong fingers caressed the harp’s strings, and thought of how those fingers would feel were they touching her. She thought of his music, and how it had touched her heart, while she imagined his hands bringing music from her body. She then thought of the discontented years she’d lived through, and the bleak-looking years ahead.

By the time she’d undressed to her shift and fallen into her goose-feather bed, her mind was consumed by visions of Niall touching her. Slipping her hands under the silken sheets, she pulled up her shift so she could touch herself freely. Her fingers went between her legs, as she imagined Niall’s would do, touching, teasing. She stroked the insides of her thighs, thinking of his hands on her, and of his lips on hers. Her breathing quickened and deepened, keeping time with her finger strokes. Moving her hands up, she centered her strokes about her woman’s place, touching her moist lips and stroking up between them, moving ever more quickly as she neared her release. Allowing a series of small moans to escape her lips, she brought her fingers up around her pearl, which brought her over the top while she envisioned Niall thrusting into her. “Oh, Niall,” she hoarsely whispered as the shudders ran through her body.

She slept, and dreamt of a traveling life with the rover.

Next day, Maeve again went to the glade with a light heart--but a heart which was set on a new path. Niall had won her, though he knew it not.

She found him, again whistling, busily curry-combing his horse in the morning sun.

“Good morrow to you, my lady Maeve. It’s a welcome sight you are this day, for tomorrow I ride away. Sad I’ll be to leave the place you are, but leave I must.”

“Leave? Tomorrow?” burst out of Maeve. She ran to him, grasped his hand in both of hers and said, “Take me with you, then. I can’t bear to have you go away, and remain here without you.”

“Are you certain, my lovely Maeve? Happy I’d be to have you go with me, but you’re a lady from a castle--are you ready to ride the day long, and sleep on the ground? For that is what you’ll do if you go with me. I’ve a ways to go these next two days, and no bedding-place save the woodlands will there be.”

“I can ride, and I’ve slept on the ground before, and gladly will I, so it be with you beside me. Will you have me, then? I can bring little out with me save my horse and a bit of clothing.”

“Come to me, darlin’, and we’ll seal the bargain.” With that, Niall swept her into his arms for a long, deep kiss that made her heart swell, and was fully all she’d imagined a kiss could be.

When their lips parted, Maeve said, “Oh! My father will seek after me, you know--it’s a proud man he is, and not one to let his daughter ride off with a traveling man. Can we evade him?”

“Trust me, my intoxicating lass--I’ve a trick or two up my sleeve, and some more surprises in store as well. It’s nothing you have to fear, I’m thinkin’. So, come out to me in the morning mists, and we’ll away from this place. Say nothing to anyone, mind--we do need a bit of a start.”

“Oh, Niall--I do trust you, and I need to be with you. You are my heart, and I’ll count the moments ‘till we leave in the morning. Now kiss me again, and hold me a bit before I return for my last night under Father’s roof.”

Their embrace lasted longer this time, and the kiss was one in which each promised all there was to give. Most reluctantly they parted, though it was but until the next morning.

Before Maeve went to bed for the last time in her father’s house, she picked and chose what she should take with her; she reluctantly left her velvet gown, it being most impractical for traveling in the weather. Even more reluctantly, her boots of Spanish leather--they being really for indoor wear--in favor of her riding-boots and walking-shoes. Having made up her mind, and a smallish pack, she went to bed and slept.

Maeve woke just at the dawning, rose and dressed for traveling. She put on her cloak, and went to the stables to saddle her horse. She gave ‘good morning’ to her father’s stableman, telling him she’d be gone much of the day, visiting her sister in the next valley.

She rode out to Niall’s campsite with a light heart and a smile, knowing this was right for her.

Niall was there, waiting, his horse saddled, the camp cleared, the packhorse loaded. “And is it ready to ride you are, intoxicating Maeve? We’ve a long way to go before this day’s done, so let’s away.”

With that, they rode off, up the stream. As they rode, Niall began to sing, and Maeve whistled a descant to his merry tune.

The day went quickly, and Niall showed a knowledge of the land and all its ways--more than Maeve had ever expected. They covered many miles, yet always seemed to be taking the easiest possible route so to spare their beasts. When they stopped for the midday meal, their singing was often interrupted by a kiss--and both knew the coming night would see them lovers indeed.

After the short rest and their meal of bread and cheese, Niall led them along a narrow valley, following a brook downstream along a gentle slope. The rivulet’s course was a windy one, twisting as it did through a series of rock-strewn gullies, above the which they saw forested uplands. Niall told Maeve that late the following day they’d have followed the brook to its end at the River Claydee, but there was a special place soon to be reached, and that would be their resting-place for the night.

Just past midafternoon, they rode round a bend to see the brook joined by another, and the broadened stream re-split into many smaller ones which chuckled around what was almost a village-worth of large stones. Off to one side was a small glen; the music of the water was like none she’d heard before.

“Maeve, it’s over there in the glen we’ll spend this night. I fell in love with this place even before I did with you, my intoxicating sweet lady,” said Niall.

“Oh, Niall--it’s beautiful to the eye and to the ear. How could you not love such a place?”

They rode to the glen, dismounted, and made their camp, with their blankets rolled out together on the meadow. Niall built ‘a handful of fire’ as he called it--only enough to heat water for tea--and they sat by it drinking their tea, and eating their bread, with a small bit of smoked fish that Maeve had brought along. While they ate, they talked of Maeve’s life; she told Niall there’d been a fellow with his cap set for her, but he seemed more intent on her father’s lands than on her. She being an only child, her husband would likely follow her father as castellan.

As they cleared away after the meal, their paths frequently crossed enough for a quick kiss or small hug; it almost became a dance to the music of the waters, and its steps never took them far apart. Eventually, they came to a stop facing one another, and almost touching.

Maeve took Niall’s hand and led him to their bedding place under the trees, saying, “Come lie with me, my love. It’s time for us to know love together.”

“Lass, right gladly I do agree with you,” said Niall as he lay down beside Maeve and kissed her softly. She returned the kiss, and its softness moved to an intensity welcomed by them both.

As they kissed, their hands moved almost on their own--his, to the mounds of her breasts, where their soft touch was as she’d imagined it. Her nipples rose to meet his touch, and a great warmth began to fill her. Her hands found his strong back, stroking as she felt his muscles work. Breaking the kiss for a moment, he pulled off his shirt and breeches, and helped her doff her clothing. “There, my beautiful Maeve, now we’re dressed for the occasion, aren’t we?” he said.

“Oh, yes we are, you roving man. Now what roving will ye do?”

“Well, I’ve always been partial to hills and forested valleys, now, haven’t I?” he said, lowering his mouth to her breast, and his hand to her thigh. She pulled his head even closer to her and spread her legs so he could reach her fully. He opened his mouth to lick a circle round her nipple while her hand stroked the back of his head. Her breathing became deeper as Niall’s tongue centered on her now-erect nipple, still circling it. He sucked the nipple into his mouth, and she felt the warmth center between her thighs.

Her hand found his hardness--oh, how hot it was to her touch! Niall simply moaned over her breast, and he suckled on her nipple even more. His hand moved to her inner thigh, and upward. She reached and pulled that hand to her mound, saying, “Touch me here, Niall. Now.” He began to rub her mound gently, while his fingers just brushed her opening lips. She pressed her hips upward into his hand, while she began stroking him, letting her fingertips just touch the head of his cock.