Nadya Molniya was no shrinking violet, everybody knew that; she was not called Lightning for nothing.  But the new lord of the manor was a different matter from the slow, stupid servants and men-at-arms she was used to.  She had of course been spying when he had arrived, but from her corner of the kitchen window she had not been able to see much, and when he had toured the place with Wulf she had only caught a glimpse of him passing by as she carted the mash for the horses to the stable.  He seemed a handsome fellow, tall and strong, but the eyes that had scanned the courtyard so keenly were cold as ice.  All the same she had envied silly little Mashka who was to serve the boyar’s supper that night.  But now it was her turn she was as nervous as a kitten.  When Wulf had opened the door for her, she had almost wanted to hand him the tray and run away.  But the squire’s wide smile cheered her, and she plucked up the confidence to walk in.<br/><br/>Sir Albrecht was waiting within, his face as cold and expressionless as the last time she had seen him.  He called her over in the curtest fashion, and her courage faded again.  Her hands trembled as she set down the tray.  But what was he doing?  He had taken hold of her, his hands on her shoulders.  Was he going to have her now,  the moment he set eyes on her?  Even worse, he turned her round and pulled her towards him, and she thought of the stories she had heard about the unnatural vices of the Catholics.  She shuddered, even more so as one of his hands came up to cover her eyes, but she dared not protest.  She felt his long hair brush her neck, but oddly, no warmth from his breath.  Then a stinging, piercing pain in her throat that did wring a cry from her - the merest kitten mewl - and a sensation of lips sucking at her flesh.  Cold lips, dry and almost hard.   Then the pain passed away and she felt instead a languorous ecstasy spreading over her like a warm cloak.   Her head swam with it, and other feelings also stirred, a liquid heat in her breasts and between her thighs.  She moaned softly, pressing herself against the knight’s cold body, grinding her hips against his groin.  One hand crept up to timidly caress his head where it was bent in to her neck.<br/>