Virginblood (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 4)

by Georgia Fox

  "You should not think of all men as the same," Isobel whispered, wiping the tears from her maid's cheeks. "You punish them all for the sins of one. Why let that monster spoil, forever, your chance of pleasure and sexual fulfillment? If you allow that memory to remain in your brain like a canker it will destroy you, Jeanne. Don't let him do that to you."

  Jeanne submitted meekly to a firm embrace from her mistress, inhaling the lady's sweet scent. The herbs and flowers from the bathwater were still fresh and strong upon her damp skin. "Yes, my lady," she managed, stifling another sob, feeling very sorry for herself and quite childishly jealous of the men who made love to her mistress.

  Isobel stepped back and began to dry herself. "Besides, Jeanne, a woman can retain her maidenhead and still enjoy a few games with a man."

  "Games?"

  "With mouths and fingers and little...well, you should ask one of the men here. They will show you."

  Jeanne shook her head and helped her mistress into a clean under-shift, then a gown. "My lady, I will not fall into sin with these men."

  "Sin? My dear, Jeanne, monks and holy men will tell you it is a sin because they do not want us to enjoy fucking. They believe women should not receive pleasure from the act, and one way to ensure they do not is to make them feel guilt about it. Do you think that is fair?"

  "I suppose not, my lady."

  "And since it results in the pain and danger of childbirth, why should we not take some delight out of the cause?" She turned her back to Jeanne, pulling her wet hair over one shoulder so that the maid could tie the laces of her gown. "Life is hard enough. We deserve some reward for all that we go through."

  Jeanne thought about this and she supposed there ought to be some balance. The world was so heavily weighted in favor of man and perhaps her mistress was right to seek pleasure where she could. Even if it was with these seven naughty devils.

  Whatever Jeanne told her mistress to the contrary, and despite the horrifying experience from her childhood, she did find the sight of a handsome, well-hewn, naked man alluring and exciting. But she could appreciate a pretty woman too and Jeanne did not like to be told who or what she should prefer. Long ago, she had made her mind up that her duty was to pleasure Isobel and no one else. Even pleasuring herself made her feel guilty and disloyal to her mistress.

  But now it occurred to the devoted maid that her passions had always been given, not received. It was Jeanne who gave relief with her tongue and fingers and it was Lady Isobel who got to climax without repaying the favor.

  As a faithful servant for so many years Jeanne had never even thought about the inequity. Until now. Because another had done that to her today for the first time. Not just to her, but for her. Oh, he had probably got pleasure from it too, but he had not climaxed as Jeanne did.

  When Lady Isobel spoke of reward, Jeanne wondered when hers would come. Raised to believe that her reward would be found in heaven, she now feared she might never get there. Considering her murderous past, she might go directly to hell. Her mistress told her that what she did could not be held against her—that it was done out of desperate necessity to save herself. But would God see it that way? She had still killed a man, whatever her reason. There was nothing in the ten commandments that said "Thou shalt not kill unless forced."

  There was, however, "Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife." And she did quite a lot of that these days.

  The more she thought of her chances at heaven's gate, the more she doubted them.

  Chapter Three

  Ram found her churning butter the next day. It was sunny but not very warm. Still, after the rains and wind of the last few days the image of warmth was a welcome respite—perhaps one of the last pleasant days they could expect that year. Through the small window of the dairy, golden light crept in and kissed her head as she bent over the churn, hard at work. But it was cool inside for a sentinel line of trees had been planted around the small, stone building to keep it well shaded, and he could hear the branches rattling against the roof as a gentle north-easterly wind toyed with them.

  "You should leave that to the dairymaids," he said.

  She did not look up. "I must make myself useful somewhere."

  He had seen her at work around his father's castellany, of course, solemnly turning her hand to anything and everything.

  "That little wench is a damn good worker," his father had said recently. "Pity she's got such a sulking face."

  As the maid of a fine lady, Jeanne need never busy her hands with anything more than sewing garments and brushing hair, but it seemed as if no task was beneath her. People were—"sinners" like him—but not work. It was as if she tried to keep herself busy and in his experience folk only did that when they were afraid of thinking too much.

  Ram propped his shoulder against a beam and watched the autumn sunlight playing over her long, thick braid.

  "I suppose I must apologize for yesterday," he managed finally. "When I...found you in the barn."

  That apparently surprised her so much she almost fell off her stool. Two blue eyes were raised slowly in shock and doubt. "Why would you apologize to me?" She scowled and her fingers clamped tighter around the wooden plunger. "What do you want, Ramon?"

  He laughed. "More of the same? Much more."

  She sighed in disgust, shook her head and resumed churning.

  "Can a man not apologize without having his motives questioned, little one?"

  "Not when he is a d'Anzeray." Thump, thump, thump went the plunger.

  Ram crouched beside her and immediately saw her stiffening. "I should not have frightened you," he said. "For that I am sorry."

  "You did not frighten me." She kept her gaze on her work, but sunlight shimmered over her down swept lashes and dusted them with gold. He thought how soft they must be. Like the rest of her. Delicate, but not fragile.

  "How did it make you feel then, little one?" he ventured.

  "Angry!"

  "Even when I suckled the juice of your dainty peach?"

  She flushed scarlet. "Yes. Angry." Her bottom slid sideways to perch gingerly on the far side of her stool.

  Annoyed, frustrated, he stood and leaned against the beam again, arms folded over his chest. How did one seduce a determined, stubborn virgin who thought pleasure was a sin? Ramon had no experience with virgins.

  "I don't believe you were still angry when you came with my tongue inside you," he muttered crossly.

  "That was merely my body," she replied. "My body acts one way and my mind another. I can't—" Her words stumbling to a halt, as if she thought she'd said too much, Jeanne got on with her work.

  "You're wrong, little one. Your mind tells your body what to do and feel. Your mind plays a role just as important when you climax." Suddenly he pushed away from the beam and tried to snatch the plunger from her hands. She clung on, so they were both holding it, his fingers close to hers. "If your mind worked separately, your body would be like this butter churn, an object with a purpose to serve but no way to do it until someone lays hands upon it, makes it move. But we are human beings and we move of our own accord, because our mind tells us to do it." He leaned down to her. She was very still, breathing hard. Ram's lips were almost on her brow. "Some people like to pretend their mind had nothing to do with it, because then they think they are absolved of any so-called sin their bodies commit. But they are fools, Jeanne, and they lie to themselves."

  She blinked, and he was close enough to feel the breeze of her lashes on his unshaven jaw. Or he imagined it, perhaps.

  "It is all one, Jeanne. Body and heart and mind and soul. What one feels they all feel. What one does they all do." He straightened up, still holding the plunger with her. "Don't blame your body for what your mind wants."

  "Thank you for the lesson," she replied, her voice curt but slightly breathless. "But you should not assume that my mind and my body work the same as yours. We are very different people."

  He groaned and released the plunger to her tenacious grip. "Ha
ve it your way, wench. If you want to remain miserable and trapped by fear of your own desires, so be it."

  "As your brother said yesterday, you make your choices in life and I should be allowed to make my own."

  But it was not in his nature to give up. Neither was it the d'Anzeray way to let a stubborn woman win an argument. She was too young and naive of course to know that his brother, Domingo, had plans of his own for her.

  "I can prove to you that your mind is just as easily roused as your body, Jeanne."

  She glowered at him, but the woman was curious. He saw it in the tremble of her plump lower lip, the tightening of her fingers, the catch of breath in her throat. Ram may not have much experience with virgins, but he knew plenty about arousal and temptation.

  Slowly he came back to where she sat. "I can give you a climax with only my words," he added, his voice low.

  Silent, she stared, opening and closing her fingers on the plunger. He moved around behind her.

  "I won't even touch you," he vowed.

  The branches of the trees outside rattled against the stone wall and tapped the slate roof. A cloud passed over the sun and took away the golden shaft of light that had previously touched her head, but her hair still held some of that shine. Like a halo, he mused.

  She would like that, no doubt.

  But she had not moved away. Her lips uttered no protest.

  "There is a curl at the nape of your neck, little Jeanne," he whispered. "The color of wheat just before harvest. It lies there beside a smaller curl that is darker, more tightly curled. Can you feel my tongue, licking slowly along your neck, where those curls sit? Can you feel the tip moving that hair aside to taste your skin? And now my lips against your ear. I might nibble very gently, the tender flesh along the edge where it is pink in that slender beam of sunlight."

  Jeanne shifted very slightly forward, and he heard her breath quicken. He smiled.

  "My hands slip down your back, sliding your shift away, lightly caressing your spine, all the way to your sweet bottom." He leaned closer so she would feel his words blowing over the curve where her neck met her shoulder, just above the edge of her woolen gown. "Then back up, along your sides...feel my touch, Jeanne? Ah yes, you do. I feel little goose bumps lifting under my fingertips. Hmm, I might need to run my tongue along them. And then I'll turn you over and taste the curve of your titty, press my lips to your pointy nipple and take a gentle suck at the little nub."

  "No. Never. I would never let you," she gasped, but it was so soft he barely heard it.

  "Let me suckle your delicious bubbies, Jeanne, while I run my fingers over the pouty cherry between your thighs. I'll press, stroke and tickle as I feel you getting sticky, but I might have to lick you down there and see how ready you are. Before I use my cock. You're so small, Jeanne."

  Ram paused, but there was no response.

  "Turn over on your front. As you were yesterday in the barn. Let me look at you. Yes. Legs apart. I can see the trickle of your essence shining between your nether lips."

  He could not even hear her breathing now. Outside the window the clouds moved on, pushed by the gathering strength of the wind, but alternate flutters of sunlight gilded her hair again between each passing shadow.

  "I'll try my fingers first inside you and find the key to make you squeal, to make you come undone. I can feel the warm silk of your cunt, tight around my fingers." Sniffing the side of her neck, he smelled rose oil mingling with sage and rosemary. He could taste her on the back of his tongue already. Remembering how she creamed for him yesterday, how her quim trembled and squeezed around his thrusting tongue, his own arousal mounted too fast, drove the actions running through his mind. His balls ached and he felt the stirring of seed, ready to shoot up his shaft at the mere thought of her juicy peach as she bent over on all fours, bottom lifted and knees spread in the straw. "I want to put my cockhead inside you and hold it there at the threshold while I squeeze your full titties. With just one more push I can be buried inside, root to tip, prying open your maidenhead, but I'll savor the moment. You're at my mercy, little one. You're squirming now, your body arching, your breasts captured in my hands, your bottom pushing back. Wait, Jeanne. Wait and I'll give you every inch of my cock until you can take no more. I feel your pulse fluttering against the crest where I'm already leaking seed." He groaned. "Pull me in, Jeanne, guide my shaft deeper and let me claim your virginblood."

  She raised a hand to the side of her neck, where his breath must have touched her.

  "But she ought to be spanked first."

  Both Jeanne and Ram turned in surprise, for there was Salvador, the eldest brother, hands on his hips, grinning at them through the shifting swathes of sun and leafy shadows.

  "If she is bent over, she should be spanked hard on that pretty bottom," he added.

  Ram suffered a sharp spur of anger. He had wanted to do this alone, but always one of his brothers interfered. They all liked to share, of course, and he was accustomed to it. But this woman had become his special mission. Would he never get a moment alone with her?

  * * * *

  Jeanne was already wet from Ram's lusty whispers, and had felt herself melting right where she sat, but the suddenness of Salvador's appearance, not to mention his suggestion, jerked her up off her stool as if he had indeed smacked her arse with his large hand. Her mind had been so lost in the picture Ram drew that she saw the spank too. And felt it sting.

  She would have run out of the dairy, but Salvador blocked her path and held her by the arms. "Where do you go in such haste? Don't let me spoil the tryst."

  "How long have you been standing there?" Ram asked, terse.

  "Long enough. No need to stop. Keep going, little brother. I'm impressed."

  "The pot is off the boil now, thanks to your interruption."

  Salvador chuckled, his hands tightening around her arms. "I think not. She's trembling and not with fear. And look at her nipples! They're almost poking through her gown, she's so heated."

  "Let me go, you foul, disgusting pig," she spat. Embarrassed by the sensations Ramon had roused in her and doubly humiliated at being caught in that state by one of his brothers, she fought back as best she could, kicking at his shins.

  But he was impervious to her efforts and held her easily. "Why, you naughty wench, come let us have a look at those titties. Don't tease us!" He laughed. "Hold her, Ram, while I have a sup at these plump teats."

  "Don't scare her, Sal. She's young and a virgin."

  "I am not afraid," Jeanne shouted. "I am angry! Let me go. You beasts think of naught but wickedness with which to taunt an innocent maid."

  "Beasts, eh? You should talk to us with more respect." Salvador's face hardened, his jaw squared, and his eyes became fierce. "We are your masters now, and you do as we say."

  "You have not earned my respect, and you will never deserve it," she cried. "I see what you are and what you do. You are no better than rutting beasts."

  "You did not enjoy my brother's efforts?"

  "No," she snapped. A part of her was sorry for the fib, not only because it was a sin to lie, but also because it had insulted Ramon in front of his elder brother. Oh, what did she care? What did it matter? These men had no feelings and no pity. They were exactly what she called them. "Beasts!" she yelled again. "Crude, filthy dogs."

  Salvador released one of her arms, but even as she thought she was about to be set free, Ram, standing behind her, lifted her gown while his brother stuck that free hand between her legs. She jerked back and came up hard against Ram, her bare buttocks hitting his brawny thighs in their leather chausses. Even as she wriggled and cursed, the eldest brother fondled her pussy, lifting her up with his brutish hand so that her toes struggled to touch the cold, flagged-stone floor. His palm was wide, covering her sex. He laughed wickedly.

  "For a woman who did not enjoy herself she's pleasantly damp, Ramon. Dripping wet. Well done. Or was it her prayers again that got her in this state?"

  Jeanne twisted
to look over her shoulder at Ram, but his gaze quickly shifted away from her and he laughed guiltily. He must have told his brothers what happened yesterday in the barn. She was dismayed, humiliated.

  Salvador now squeezed her pussy and rubbed his large hand back and forth, forcing her against his brother until she felt Ram's erection through his chausses, pushing against her spine. "Is this how you say your prayers, girl? Oh, yes. Amen!"

  They both laughed as she shouted louder, calling them every name she could think of.

  Suddenly she was lifted off her feet and thrown over Salvador's wide shoulder. He marched her out into the yard with Ramon close behind.

  "Now you must be punished for that lying mouth, woman. We don't tolerate deception here or women who are quarrelsome and disrespectful."

  He sat on a barrel in the midst of the yard, tossed her gown over her head and held her down over his knees.

  "Go to it, Ram. Spank her. She deserves it for being a surly, stubborn, lying little tease."

  The cold air on her bottom made her glad of the wool gown over her head to hide her face. She knew the yard must be full of people all going about their work, and they would now be watching, looking at her naked arse. She even heard a few chuckles. Some of the castle residents had made it plain that they thought her a haughty miss and now they would relish her public comeuppance.

  She squirmed, gasping for breath, the buckle of his tunic biting into her side. But Salvador's strength overpowered her easily. And then came Ramon's flat hand smacked so hard against her bottom that she bit down on her tongue and her eyes watered.

  One of Salvador's palms pressed down on her back, while his other arm wrapped around her thigh, spreading her legs as he held her across his lap in a pose so undignified that she could not bear it. Now the chill swept her wet pussy as well as her buttocks and she heard feet moving quickly over the cobbles, splashing through puddles, as people gathered around to watch. They called to each other, alerting more folk to the scene, and Jeanne's heart raced until she was dizzy. With her free leg kicking wildly she made a last mad effort to get free, but it was exhausting and futile. Ramon's hand came down on her buttocks again, and a shout rose up from the crowd.