May 1391, Guildford

Hamon de Grey, the bastard half-brother of Sir Giles re-adjusted himself and tried to act as if nothing had happened, yet inside he was on fire, his heart and mind racing. He tucked his shirt back into his breeches, re-adjusted his tunic and grabbed his hat from the ground, where it had become crinkled and crumpled. He smoothed down his silvery blond hair and put the hat back on his head. He took two deep breaths in and out, ran his hands down his plain tunic and walked out, re-joining the rest of the world.

Hamon walked out from behind the old storehouse and scanned his surroundings. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Why would it be? Why should something be out of the ordinary? Yet inside he didn’t feel ordinary. He felt giddy and excited. His heart was jumping and his mind was all over the place. His blood was rushing and he felt a buzz that comes only from breaking the rules. Living on the edge, breaking the rules and the potential to be caught. Perhaps it was the knowledge that nothing would ever be the same for him again?

He started walking back towards the house and then pausing when he saw the familiar auburn-haired figure standing there. Her skirts flapping in the wind around her ankles, strands of her hair falling free of her hood. She knew what he had been doing. Of course she did. She had been suspecting something for months. She wasn’t stupid. Of course she knows , Hamon thought. Whenever he had a spare moment, or whenever Hamon had been in his presence, she was there, it was as if she was this all-knowing presence around the house. Those light green eyes of hers were ever alert and ever suspicious.

Yet, if she did know, she hadn’t pressed him on the matter or judged him, and he was glad and thankful of that. Yet she couldn’t exactly judge him. She too was living in sin, except hers was the sin of adultery and he wagered that people would think his crime far worse. If they ever find out , Hamon added. He approached and she smiled at him, acting as if everything were normal. Everything was normal, and Hamon had to remind himself of that fact.

‘ Mademoiselle ,’ he smiled broadly. ‘And how pretty you look today mon cher .’ Isabel smiled in greeting and looped her arm through his. ‘When is my brother due back?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Isabel answered, excitement and longing welling up inside her. Sir Giles had been gone longer than either of them had predicted, and it had rankled her, but she had to remind herself that she was no longer the first lady in Giles’ life. That honour now went to his new wife, Eleanor Hobbes. Or Lady Eleanor de Grey, as she was now. But Isabel was comforted by the fact that she was prettier and younger than the Hobbes girl, she being twenty-three and Isabel being but only nineteen.

Isabel also tried to comfort herself with the fact that she had fallen pregnant within the first month of their relationship, and while Gisèle was illegitimate and a girl, she was the first born child of Sir Giles. Isabel had that honour, not Eleanor. For the first month after Sir Giles had left to marry the Saxon girl, Isabel had very selfishly and petulantly prayed that Eleanor would be barren and not give Giles any children.

But then she realised that that would be to no one’s advantage. Hamon was a bastard and so could not inherit any of the de Grey estate, as was Gisèle. She thought it better that Eleanor perhaps did give him children, so the inheritance was safe and secure and there was no dispute over it. She may have disliked the Hobbes girl, and disliked Giles for marrying her, but she didn’t wish misfortune upon either of them.

Isabel had learned patience during the months of Giles’ absence. She had also learned to accept the Plantagenet motto for being indicative of her own life. It is what it is , Isabel thought with a sigh every time her mind wandered to thinking of Giles and Eleanor. There was a saying her grandfather had told her of as a child, which she felt fit her situation now rather well. ‘Praise the God of all, drink the wine and let the world be the world.’ Isabel had asked her grandfather what that meant. ‘It means,’ he said. ‘That there are some things in life you cannot change. You have to accept them for what they are. Let the world be the world.’

Which was true. Isabel couldn’t change the fact that Giles’ was married and he had another woman in his life. With that in mind, she set to making Giles’ stay in Guildford a very pleasurable and memorable stay. Even if he returned to her in a bleak mood, she would soon cheer him up and make him happy. She was in competition now with his new wife, but Isabel would win. She always did.

And yet when she saw him again the next day, as he strode confidently over to her, picking her up and taking her to the bedchamber, Isabel forgot all about being in competition and making sure that she won. She let his warmth envelope and overwhelm her as he undressed her slowly until she was naked before him on the bed. He kissed down her body, nipping at each of her breasts and sucking on her hard nipples. He heard her breathing catch when he did this and smiled to himself as he kissed further down her body.

He gently pushed Isabel’s thighs apart and kissed the soft skin of her inner thighs until he reached her most intimate area. He kissed the folds of skin and then gently opened them to reveal her perfect pink wetness. He kissed the little protruding pink nub and Isabel breathed in sharply, and then he ran his tongue over it, making a long straight line from her pleasure centre to the little nub. Giles was rewarded with her sighs and moans as he continued to flick his tongue over the hard little button. He took it in his mouth and sucked on it, making Isabel call out loudly, her body shaking.

Giles licked down until he got to her little hole. He probed with his tongue, lapping at her. She placed her hands on his head and ran her fingers through the dark gold locks of her lover, her body building up to the big finale. Giles probed her depths expertly with his tongue and Isabel exploded underneath him, her body rolling with the wave of ecstasy. It seemed to her to last forever, Giles was relentless with his ministrations and all Isabel could do was lay back and take it, her body warm all over and glowing with the sensations. And when at last Giles did finish, Isabel found that it was far from over. He quickly stripped off, lay on top of her and entered her.

His strokes were neither slow nor fast. He was deliberate but also slightly hasty at the same time. He was keeping an even speed while taking care to mind Isabel, who had recovered from the first bout of pleasure and was now starting to experience the second. Isabel wrapped her legs around Giles’ waist and moved with him, becoming lost in the torrent of pleasure, of which she hoped to never leave. Giles leaned down to kiss her, and as their lips touched they reached their peak together. It was a beautiful thing. A wonderfully beautiful thing.

Giles stayed within Isabel, resting his head in between the pillow and her cheek, the faint smell of saffron filling his nose as he felt the softness of her auburn hair underneath his forehead.

‘I am to go to London,’ he said after a while.

Isabel closed her eyes and tried to swallow her pain. She had only just got him back, she didn’t want to say goodbye to him so soon. ‘When?’ she asked in a small voice.

‘Start of June,’ Giles answered. There was a brief pause before he continued speaking. ‘I want you to come with me,’ he said, sitting up slightly yet still staying within her.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I want you to come to London with me. I’m sick of living in secrecy and having to hide you. Men take mistresses all the time and people have accepted it. I have done what was expected of me and married. I married to appease my family and to appease hers. I have done my duty and now Eleanor must do hers. I am entitled to do as I will and taking a mistress is doing just that. Kings take mistresses all the time and no one thinks anything of it.’

‘My love you are not a King,’ Isabel said, softly reminding him. She was glad that finally Giles was sweeping aside public opinion and living how he thought he should.

‘It is not uncommon for a man to take a mistress, so why should I worry about it? I will abjure public opinion,’ he said. ‘ We will abjure public opinion.’ Giles smiled at Isabel and kissed her.

‘Then I am glad,’ Isabel said. ‘Finally you have your right.’ They kissed again, a passionate kiss full of promise and future aspirations.

Hamon, Sir Giles, and Isabel sat around later on that night, eating privately at the table in Sir Giles’ chamber. They had dismissed most of the servants for the night and we seeing to their own needs, except for the musician Jace, who was playing a slow and somber tune. Gisèle had woken not twenty minutes earlier and was now sitting happily on the knee of her father, babbling away and chewing on a wooden ring that was good for teething babies.

‘I cannot believe how much she has grown,’ Giles mused, tearing apart some pork and swiping it through a sweet sauce. The dogs Ajax and Cadmus were sitting on the fresh rushes on the floor near Giles, who every now and then was feeding them scraps of meat and bread.

‘Neither can I,’ Isabel smiled. ‘She is so much like you.’

‘Nay my love,’ Giles gently disagreed. ‘She is all you.’ He finished his mouthful of food and held his firstborn daughter in the air, up above him. Gisèle gurgles and laughed and a gob of saliva fell from her lip and hit Giles directly on the tip of his nose. ‘Isn’t that a nice greeting when I’ve only just returned,’ he stated, laughing as he held the child close to him. Everyone laughed, even Jace, who broke his tune very briefly before taking it back again, a laughing smile across his handsome face.

Isabel saw Hamon look at Jace out of the corner of his eye. They smiled at each other as if there were a secret between them that no one else was in on, which Isabel supposed there was. She knew exactly what was going on, or at least she had a fair idea.

It had ruffled her the wrong way at first, it being illegal and a grave sin, but she soon shed this when she saw how obviously happy Hamon was. She and Hamon never spoke of it, it was this unspoken thing between the two of them, but they both had an understanding, and this was good enough for the both of them.

‘Why the cheeky grin brother?’ Sir Giles asked, seeing the look on Hamon’s face as he stared at Jace.

‘I was just reminded of a bawdy tale Jace told me earlier,’ Hamon answered, thinking quickly.

‘Go on,’ Giles said. ‘Tell us.’

‘Perhaps later. It is far to ribald to be said in front of mademoiselle or the babe.’

Giles smirked and said no more on the matter, taking it for what it was. It surprised Isabel that men couldn’t always see what was right in front of them. It was probably for the best, she didn’t imagine Giles to be as tolerant as she was. He had a very clear idea of what was right and wrong. Lawful and unlawful, which Isabel thought ironic seen as he had a mistress and was living the sin of adultery, but she loved him all the more for his personal scruples and ideals.

‘When do you leave for Ireland?’ Giles asked Hamon.

‘My trip to Ireland has been delayed. I am to take a sojourn in France before setting out for Ireland in the late autumn. I leave soon,’ he explained.

‘Why do you go to France?’ Giles asked.

‘Just some business that Edmund de la Pole, the great military man has set a task for me. Well, he actually wanted Harry Hotspur Percy to see to it, but Harry sent me instead. You know how it is for us little people?’ he jested. ‘We must stick our hands in the fire if commanded to.’ Harry Percy or Hotspur as he was known was the Earl of Northumberland and a great military man. They were one of the richest families in England and were relied upon by the King to hold the North against the Scots, but it wasn’t uncommon to find them on other military expeditions away from the rainy North of England.

Sir Edmund de la Pole was the younger brother of the famous Michael de la Pole. He was a knight and had held the Captaincy of Calais for four years as well as being the High Sheriff of Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire. The de la Pole's and the de Grey's were old acquaintances and had a mutual agreement and understanding. Giles thought it always good to have allies, especially in times like these. 

Everyone laughed at Hamon’s jest. ‘ Monsieur , if I gave you a letter could you arrange for it to be given to my kinsman, the Bishop of Poitou?’ Isabel asked.

‘Of course,’ Hamon said.

‘Since when do you write letters? Giles asked his French lover.

‘Since my family have repudiated me in the vilest of terms. I am throwing myself upon the mercy of my uncle,’ she explained.

‘You are writing to your kinsman the Bishop of Poitou, to ask if he can forgive you your transgressions.’ Giles said, chuckling at the situation. It had its funny side, like everything in life.

Isabel was unamused. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know not what else to do. I have always been pious and I still am. I am hoping that my uncle will help me. He may claim to be a man of God but he cannot refuse me. He is not so pure of heart himself,’ she said vehemently.

‘Very well,’ Giles sighed. ‘I did not know you could write enough to make up a letter.’

‘I was taught a little to read and write as a child. Hamon has also taught me while you have been away,’ she explained.

‘Since when can you write enough for a letter, brother?’ Sir Giles asked Hamon. He had not known the table was so educated.

‘When I was a young lad our father put me in the care of the church. Local monks taught me, though I had no plans to take the cloth and enter the cloister,’ explained Hamon. ‘I am not as much of a dullard as you suppose me to be, brother,’ he added.

The de Grey family history was something that fascinated Isabel, especially the recent history that concerned Sir William de Grey, the father of Giles and Hamon. She knew a little of him from what Hamon had told her. Insanely lecherous he liked to drink from the fountains of others. Once he had sired sons and heirs off his wife Lady Joan he ceased to lay with her and instead chose to sow his oats elsewhere. He had a fancy for young milkmaids and the daughters of farmers and his serfs.

Hamon was the result of an affair with one young village lass, who threatened to make a scandal if Sir William didn’t provide for the baby or recognise it. Grudgingly he took the young Hamon into his care but when he was old enough, palmed him off to the local monastery. Hamon left at age seventeen, after the death of Sir William. Unlike his brother Giles, who had always shown him the most attention, Hamon had nothing to fall back on. He had to make his own way in life. And so he joined different households and spent most of his time abroad, travelling, making money and forging his own career.

Giles hadn’t had much to do with the young Hamon, there being twelve years between them. By the time Hamon was a young lad, Giles was off on crusade and making a name for himself on the jousting and tourney circuit. If the two brothers were back home at the same time, Giles always made a point of being friendly to Hamon and showing him respect, even though he was illegitimate. There was familial loyalty between them and they had an arrangement. Giles thought it wise to keep deferential bonds with others, especially family members. It was always a very pragmatic thing to keep people close to you, working together to ensure the safety of one another. Though one always had to be careful of who he trusted and kept company with. 

‘You and Hamon seem to get on well,’ Giles commented later on after they had finished supping. Jace had stayed and played bawdy tunes for the trio as they drank rather heavily. Giles and Isabel had put Gisèle to bed themselves, and Giles had marvelled at his baby daughter. He had not realised how much he loved her till that moment.

‘Yes,’ Isabel answered, taking her hood off and unpinning her hair. ‘He is very kind to me and has provided well for me in your times of absence.’

Giles hesitated before speaking again, struggling for the words. He was lying in bed, leaning his head against his left arm, which was up against the cool wood of the bed frame. He was naked underneath the fur coverlet, the light of the candles dancing off the dark gold hair on his chest. ‘Hamon has never been…..undue towards you, has he?’ asked Giles.

‘Sir?’

‘He has never tried anything with you has he? You’d tell me if he did?’ Giles said, sounding uncomfortable.

‘Are you asking me if Hamon and I lay together?’ Isabel asked, her voice taking on a steely edge.

‘Can you really blame me? He has somewhat of a reputation for being a master romancer. Harry Percy told me all about his times in Ireland and Scotland. Apparently women flock to him, and not all of them are maids. I was told that he keeps company with the Scottish Lords- their wives in particular. He is foolish with where he places his trusts and the company he keeps is dangerous, not only to me but everyone associated with me, and you know how suspicious King Richard can be,’ Giles said, raising his voice.

Interesting, Isabel thought, apparently Hamon has an affinity for both men and women. ‘And this is reason enough to suspect that there is something between us?’ she asked.

‘Sorry,’ Giles said, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘Sorry. But I worry about you whilst I am away.’

‘You shouldn’t worry,’ Isabel said in a perfunctory voice. She finished getting undressed and got into bed next to him, feeling the warmth from his body. She snuggled against him and against her thigh felt that his manhood was semi-hard. She lightly ran her fingers down his chest and belly until she had a grip on his manhood. She wrapped her hand around it and slowly moved her fist up and down. Giles closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

Slowly Isabel rubbed him, her soft fingers making deft strokes. Still gripping him she shifted herself, her thighs astride his and she slowly lowered herself onto him, taking his full length inside her. She didn’t move, or make any attempt to start moving, she just stared at him with her light green eyes. Isabel leaned down to kiss him and moaned against his mouth at the increase of depth. Giles held her hips and slowly moved her up and down on him as they shared a kiss.

Their faces were touching, mere inches apart as they moved together, Isabel riding him and moving on top, and Giles thrusting up to meet her. Isabel leaned back, arching her hips and back. She moaned loudly and increased the speed of her gyrations. She bore down, trying to rub her clitoris against Giles’ abdomen. Giles sat up and faced his lover, holding her to him, feeling her breasts against his naked chest, her hard nipples rubbing against his. The familiar heavy breathing and sighing indicated to Giles that Isabel was having an orgasm. He felt an extra slickness around his prick and felt the contractions of Isabel against him. As they kissed Giles finished deep inside his French mistress.

She stayed astride him, breathing heavily and looking into Giles’ blue/grey gaze. They kissed again and Isabel squeezed her muscles once more against Giles, milking him and causing him to moan again. Isabel removed Giles from within her and laid down next to him again, draping her arm across his chest. On his upper thighs and manhood, Giles felt Isabel’s wetness.

‘Was that thanks enough?’ Isabel asked.

‘Thanks for what?’

‘For taking me to London with you,’ stated Isabel.

‘Oh mon coeur, yes it is thanks enough. More than enough,’ Giles smiled and kissed her again.

Author’s Note: mon coeur translates to my sweet. In the middle ages, homosexuality was illegal and a death penalty offence in some cases. It is the opinion of the time, not necessarily mine. Check out my other stories the Jeff and Brianne series, Lesbifriends, Lesbinaughty, The Holiday, Revenge Affair, Another Revenge Affair, Love Nest, Our Little Secret, Paradise lost & found, Misfit Love, After-hours Antics, The Bachelor Party, Mrs Malcolm, La prisonnier Francais, Maîtresse en titre, Maîtresse en titre dans l’amour Just What I Needed, Study-Break, When In Florence…, Peep-Show and Ex-girlfriend’s sister