“Why was Lord Coll still at Lord Jeffrey’s demesne, instead of at either of his own two properties?” asked the King.
Rhys’s body tensed again. Carefully he replied, “Father Augustus sent letters to some of his friends to ask why Lord Coll would be trying to take Lady Rhyannon’s jewels, when he had inherited two good properties, one from his father and the other from hers. He was told that Lord Coll had already wasted his inheritance and needed the money. We wondered if he had no funds to travel home.”
“Hmm,” replied the King. “I shall think on this matter and ask some questions of my clerks. Meanwhile, you are welcome at my Court.”
It was dismissal. Rhys bowed his head and stepped back, as did Rhyannon and Lord Devon. Nerida followed them from the room. All they could do now was wait.
* * * *
The next three weeks were a strange time for Rhyannon. On the one hand, she loved seeing Nerida’s eyes light up with excitement at all the wonderful things at Court. Musicians played constantly on lyres, and pipes, and drums. Even though it was so early in spring, there was a garden just of flowers, all in bud. Twice they were invited to a formal dinner, and Rhyannon’s beautiful Court gown, ripped by her cousin Coll in anger and mended using a clever design by Garnet, was the envy of every lady there.
But on the other hand, her body was always on edge waiting to hear about her father’s property. Rhyannon knew she could manage the castle. It was a good place, not as big as Lady Elinor’s stronghold, but still with hardworking people and productive lands. Her father had been wealthy enough to indulge in marrying a never-ending string of wives, which had cost a lot of money, money that could now be spent on improving the land and buildings. Besides, neither Devon nor Alistair had lands of their own, and this way the three off them would have a home of their own, a place to build a family. With two such strong warriors to protect the lands, they would always be safe and well.
But her cousin Coll may have willed it to anyone, as was his right once he inherited it. And even if he hadn’t willed it away, the father or brother of her father’s last wife probably had a claim on it. Also, she was almost certain Coll had another cousin from the other side of his family. That man could also claim the land. It was all far too complicated to even guess what the King may decide. All she could do was hope the King would grant the land to her. Surely the King would see her as a more suitable recipient than some distant cousin of Coll’s?
Rhyannon snuggled into bed between Devon and Alistair. She loved these two men so much. Never had she imagined marrying two men, but now she couldn’t imagine not having them both. Devon ran his hand over her ass. He was very much an ass man. She understood that.
“Alistair, why don’t you take her from behind tonight, and I will take you,” suggested Devon.
“And that way you get to look at both our asses,” Rhyannon replied, a laugh in her voice.
“You know me so well, my sweet.”
Rhyannon pushed the fur off her body and kneeled up on all fours. Alistair moved behind her, one hand cupping her cunt, teasing her nubbin, ensuring she was wet for him. She was always wet for these two men. They just had to be near her for her to want them to take her and swive her over and over again.
Alistair thrust deep into her hungry cunt, filling her, touching every part of her, making her belly clench hard and hold onto his wonderful cock. He felt so good, the way his sword reached deep inside her, possessing and stretching her, making her know she was his. From behind her like this, his cock could fill more of her than from the front. His balls dragged against her ass, arousing her even further, and his hand still cupped her cunt and teased her nubbin. He felt so good, so very good.
Then Devon crawled in behind Alistair and began working on Alistair’s rear entry. Rhyannon could feel every touch Devon made on Alistair’s skin because of the way he tensed and released, or shivered in pleasure. When Devon drove deep into Alistair’s ass, all three of them sighed in joy. From then on, all Rhyannon had to do was grip tight to the mattress as the two men together plowed in and out, in rhythm with each other.
Soon the small room smelled of the scent of sweat and people fucking. This acted as if it were an aphrodisiac for them all, making the men plow harder and faster, and Rhyannon thrust back into the strokes. Her body was coated with sweat, and Alistair’s sweat dripped onto her back. She knew Devon’s own sweat would be dampening Alistair, too.
She was close to release. Desperately she thrust back again, tightening her inner muscles and gripping Alistair’s cock with all her strength. Devon reached around all their bodies and pinched her nipple. It was all she needed. Rhyannon exploded into release, her belly clenching and unclenching, her honey pouring from her cunt coating Alistair’s cock and fingers.
Her head dropped onto the mattress as both men powered on still. Amazingly her cunt continued to ripple and quiver, and a second wave of joy began to hit her. Rhyannon’s arms shook, so she dropped onto her forearms as the second blast of pleasure roared through her, making her entire body quake and throb. In just a few heartbeats, her cunt was full of Alistair’s seed as he spurted deep inside her, and she knew Devon had reached his peak, too, because his thrusts were ragged, no longer in rhythm.
The three of them dropped onto the mattress in a sweaty, sticky, exhausted pile of limbs.
“Every time is better than the last,” said Devon, stroking her shoulder, then Alistair’s.
“If it gets any better than this, the pleasure may just kill me,” joked Alistair.
“Thank you, my husbands,” whispered Rhyannon, kissing Devon and Alistair then closing her eyes. She was exhausted and needed to sleep. Hopefully the King would answer her tomorrow.
* * * *
It was three more days before they were summoned into the King’s presence, but it was worth the wait.
“Lord Devon, these papers give you Lady Rhyannon’s father’s property. All of it, lands and buildings, as well as possessions, jewels, and silver.” The King waved his hand, and a clerk handed a rolled scroll to Devon.
Devon stepped forward, took the papers, and bowed to the King. “Thank you, Your Majesty, you are most gracious.”
The King nodded and spoke. “Regarding Lord Coll’s property, inherited from his father. There is indeed a distant cousin of his father’s, an old man and childless. For now those lands are under my control. However, should you, like Lady Elinor, produce a second son, you may apply for that child to rule Lord Coll’s lands.”
Rhyannon’s face split in a grin. She’d never expected to get Cousin Coll’s lands. Never even thought of such a thing. She’d scarcely even dared hope of getting her father’s lands for Devon. But this was wonderful. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she whispered.
“This kingdom needs strong warriors like Lord Rhys and Lord Devon. Men who can rule the land properly. Neither Lord Coll nor Lord Jeffrey had such skills.”
Rhyannon nodded. Coll had frightened her with his spite and anger. She’d never understood why he’d acted as he did.
The King dismissed them, and they all bowed and left.
Rhys, Rhyannon, and Devon returned to their rooms and sent Nerida’s father to fetch Ebert and Alistair. When they’d all gathered together, they excitedly shared the news.
Rhys laughed. “Elinor has set you a hurdle to beat, Rhyannon. Two sons indeed.”
“If I have but one son, or just daughters, there will still be an heir to my home. As it was claimed in my name, my daughter will be able to inherit it, unlike my father, with his fixation on the need for a son. But it’s good to know a second son would also have an inheritance of his own.”
“Are we going home now, or do we go to your property, Lady Rhyannon?” asked Nerida.
Rhyannon glanced at the child’s father then looked Nerida squarely in the face. “Would you and William like to come and live at my home? You would be my maid for now, but once you’re grown, you could learn to be steward of the household or some other high status position if you
willed it.”
“Lady, above all things I’d like to work for you. I have seen the King with my own eyes. I can count all the numbers and remember complicated messages. I know I could learn to be a steward. Lord Rhys, does my father have your permission to come into Lady Rhyannon’s service, too?”
“Of course, child.”
Rhyannon looked at Nerida’s father, and he was standing there, tears in his eyes, so proud of his girl. “You have reared her well, William,” she said softly.
“No son could mean more to me than this daughter of mine. Her mother would be so proud that a freed man’s child has seen the King and has been offered training for such a high status position. I am grateful, Lady.”
“Will we go directly from Court to our home, or should we go back to the stronghold for all our possessions first?” asked Rhyannon.
“If all the crops are to be planted on time, we need to get there fairly soon. Already the ground should be prepared, ready to plant,” said Alistair.
“But your possessions will attract undue attention from masterless men. It’d be better if Lord Devon, Alistair, and Ebert accompanied the baggage to discourage such attacks,” said Rhys.
“Father Augustus often sends letters. I can write. Could I write a letter to my people telling them to begin making everything ready and saying we’ll be arriving soon?” asked Rhyannon hesitantly.
“An excellent plan,” said Rhys.
“My clever woman,” added Devon, while Alistair smiled at her.
Nerida was sent to get writing materials, while the others planned the letter. Ebert would be the messenger delivering it, as the people there would know and trust him. As soon as he’d delivered it and ensured it would be implemented, he’d ride back to meet Lady Rhyannon and help escort them back to her home.
While Rhyannon wrote the letter, Nerida packed up their clothing and possessions, Ebert and William readied the animals, and Rhys and Alistair began planning what they’d need to take from the stronghold to Rhyannon’s castle. Devon went and purchased a sturdy horse and wagon to transport their possessions from the stronghold to Rhyannon’s castle.
When everything was ready, Rhys said, “We break our fast at dawn tomorrow and then leave. We’ll be traveling quickly though, with more speed than on the way here,” he warned.
* * * *
As soon as they were alone in their room, Devon pulled his prick from his breeches and tugged on it hard. The King’s arrangements regarding two sons had made him want to fuck his wife’s cunt, to see her belly swell with a child—his or Alistair’s it didn’t really matter—but to see her pregnant had suddenly become his aim.
“Throw your skirts over your shoulders and lean against the wall. The King has told us to get you with child, and I must obey my liege-lord,” he ordered hoarsely.
“Yes, my lord,” said Rhyannon softly, lifting up her skirts and pushing her ass out at him in the way she knew made his prick harder than a sword.
“Ah, my sweet, you’re so beautiful.”
His balls were hard and tight already. Her round, lush ass beckoned to him, but this time he thrust deep into her cunt. It was hot, and wet, and welcoming, and his prick slid in so easily. Devon buried his face in her shoulder, drawing in her wonderful scent, loving the softness of her skin as he pumped his hips furiously, swiving her hard and deep, his prick full of his seed, ready to make a child.
Rhyannon was pushing back onto his sword, so he knew she was enjoying this, but he couldn’t wait for her to reach her peak. His balls had never been so ready to burst before, as he slammed into her again and again, and then his seed poured into her cunt, hot and spurting deep inside her.
He pressed his mouth to her neck and kissed her skin, then said, “Now, Alistair, your turn.”
Alistair was naked, sitting on a stool watching them, his prick pointing straight up into the air like a good soldier.
“Come, sit on my sword,” said Alistair.
Rhyannon stopped to pull off her dress then climbed over Alistair’s legs, sliding her cunt down over Alistair’s prick.
Devon moved around the room, sitting on the floor, his eyes level with Alistair’s prick. He loved watching Alistair swive her, seeing that prick go in and out of Rhyannon’s cunt. It was pink and wet, and Devon watched Rhyannon’s juices run down Alistair’s cock, then the prick disappear inside her again, only to come out with a fresh coat of glistening moisture.
Alistair was desperate indeed as his huge prick had shown, his hips pushing up hard into Rhyannon, his hands on her hips ramming her down on his sword harder still.
Devon watched, loving the way Alistair held her leg to the side, widening her cunt so Devon could see more. Rhyannon was soon groaning, and Devon knew she’d reached her pleasure. Alistair was not far behind, his hips pumping hard as his seed shot into her.
But the more he watched, the harder his own prick grew again. He was ready to fuck her again, and he wanted her cunt again, wanted to impregnate her.
When Rhyannon collapsed against Alistair’s chest, Devon picked her up into his arms and laid her on the bed. She was so beautiful after she’d been fucked, her skin all glowing pink, her eyes glazed with happiness.
“Can I fuck you again? You aren’t sore, are you?”
“Of course you can. I’m always ready for either of you. Besides, the King demands a child.” She smiled.
Devon held his prick at her cunt then pushed in. He seldom took her face-to-face like this, but right now he wanted to kiss her sweet lips as he fucked her. Once again, his balls were hard with need, his prick full of seed, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. Which was surprising, as so often he found it hard to reach his peak unless he was in her ass. But today his balls were full to bursting again already.
Devon kissed her lips, her nose, her eyelids, then began a hard, fast pace pounding in and out of her as if he were hammering a post into the ground. Of course he was. He was hammering his post into the lush, fertile soil of her body. With that thought, his prick exploded seed into her over and over again, until he was totally limp and empty.
“I love you,” Devon whispered.
* * * *
They rode hard and fast back to Lady Elinor’s stronghold, leaving every morning at dawn and not stopping until almost dusk. The wagon was empty and the new horse sturdy, so it didn’t slow them down much at all. Fortunately, by spending three weeks at Court, they’d missed the worst of the thaw, and although the road was muddy in many places, nowhere was it impassable, and only once did the wagon get bogged. An excellent outcome overall, thought Nerida, who’d pictured them spending hours every day digging it out of potholes and puddles.
As they neared home, Nerida and her father left the group to travel across country to Rhys’s demesne to tell them there the news and invite Byram, Garnet, Carlysle, and Albin to a farewell banquet for Lady Rhyannon in two days’ time.
The demesne had changed a lot since Nerida had last seen it. The new stone wall was already waist-high, and huge piles of rocks had been gathered to make it higher still. The wooden palisade had been completely rebuilt, and since it was four paces behind the wall, it was a formidable line of defense. Or would be when the stone wall was higher. Anyone who climbed the wall would be shot by bowmen standing protected inside the palisade. Out in the fields, preparations for planting had already begun, and when they entered the courtyard, they had to navigate past a small herd of ducks being watched by a group of children.
Much had happened there in a short time indeed.
While her father waited with the horses and learned all the news from the demesne, Nerida found Byram and told him her message.
“You and your father must rest here today and tomorrow. You must both be tired from all the traveling. Then we’ll ride to the stronghold together on the day of the banquet,” said Byram.
Garnet took Nerida aside, and they sat by the fire, each with a cup of watered wine. “Now, tell me all about the Court,” begged Garnet.
Ne
rida smiled. “I saw the King,” she said. “I can still hardly believe I stood in his rooms.”
“That is indeed an honor. Few other than the nobles ever see him.”
“I know. And Lady Rhyannon said I can learn to be a steward at her castle, just like you.”
“But I’m not the steward. Byram is. I just married him.”
Nerida thought for a few heartbeats. She didn’t want to hurt Garnet’s feelings, but she needed to speak the truth. “That is so, but here, he, Carlysle, and Albin are organizing all the outdoor projects, the stone wall, the barns, the palisade, the crops. Effectively, you are managing the household, is that not so?”
“Yes, that’s a fair description. I’m the one planning the menus and making sure the food is prepared correctly. I hold the keys to the salt cellar and the spice jars. I supervise all the indoor servants,” said Garnet.
“One day this is what I will do, too.”
Garnet looked directly at Nerida. “Child, you have the ability to be and do whatever you want. Never let someone say a girl can’t succeed. Girls can succeed but have to use slightly different methods from boys.”
“Lady Elinor said it was very important that a girl not marry too young. That far too many young brides die in childbed.”
“That’s so. Carrying a child for nine months then bearing a healthy babe is hard work, and a young girl is not always strong enough to do that. Also marrying within your hamlet and small village is not always good,” Garnet said.
“Oh yes, Lady Rhyannon said that if you marry a cousin, the baby will often die. It’s the same with horses. You breed them to someone else’s stud, not your own stallion each year.”
Restoring Garnet's Heart [Elinor's Stronghold 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 5