Held For Ransom

by Rose, Renee

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, staring up at the moon. He experienced the same surge of power as when she blessed him, and raw, animal passion overcame him. He moved in and out of her with more force, gathering speed, drawing cries of mingled pain and pleasure from her. He sensed the crest of the wave–not just his own, but a collective wave of all the revelers, every coupling. Following it, he closed his eyes, reverence at their symbolic act overcoming his selfish delight in having Ariana. He reached the summit, releasing his seed with a cry of triumph, one he heard echoed from all those around them.

  The intensity of Ariana’s climax could be attributed to nothing but the Goddess herself. Her muscles clamped around his shaft, milking its seed deep within her, yet rather than draining him, his energy only increased, the power continuing to surge through his veins.

  Still inside her, he lowered himself beside her and gathered her into his arms, unwinding her hair from the wreath it formed around her head. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured.

  She ran her fingernails over the hair on his chest.

  “Thank you. For choosing me.”

  “I thought it might be easier with someone who knew what he was doing,” she said.

  He chuckled. “I do not usually prefer virgins, but since you gave me no choice…”

  “Why not? I thought all men preferred virgins.”

  He snorted. “Nay. Virgins require a man to be gentle.”

  “You were not so very gentle,” she said.

  “Forgive me,” he said, gathering her closer, brushing her hair back to see her face. “Did I hurt you?”

  She met his eye, her green eyes held a childlike trust he had never seen in her before. “No.”

  “I did hurt you a bit, did I not? Mayhap not at the time, but you feel it now?”

  She nodded, the openness in her gaze inciting every protective instinct within him. His spent cock slid out of her and they both groaned.

  He pulled her even closer. “Permission to kiss you?” he asked, not wanting to ignore her previous edict.

  “Granted,” she whispered.

  He brushed his lips over hers, demanding nothing, simply tasting the sweetness there. She returned the kiss, opening her mouth and tangling her tongue with his, causing his heart to jerk and his cock to surge back to attention. She had promised he could have her again, but now he cared not, content with her kiss, with the pleasure of holding her in his arms.

  “Is this how you imagined it, Ariana?”

  “No,” she laughed. “Even after my betrothal was broken, I never saw anything like this. Did you feel the magic?”

  “Aye. I will never forget it, as long as I live.”

  She nestled closer.

  “I am honored by your choice.”

  “Our choices as women are few and far between–even here, at Avalon. I had the choice of men, but the Goddess determined I should serve as her honored maid. I keep thinking about your mother.”

  “My mother?”

  “Aye. How your father captured her and carried her off but they lived happily together. I wonder, if I had married King Crewe, would I have found happiness? Does a woman simply bend to a man’s will when he forces it?”

  “I do not think it so simple. Or maybe it is–I know not. You did not bend to my will when I captured you.”

  “I might have, had you kept me longer,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  He cupped her face, lifting it away from his chest. “Does that frighten you?”

  She nodded, unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

  “This is why you cannot forgive me.”

  The tears spilled. “I do forgive you. I do forgive you, Crow. I have been holding myself apart from you, keeping this wedge of pain to use against you, even though it is only myself I hurt,” she admitted.

  “Nay, I hurt, too, princess. Every day to be near you, to know I caused you suffering, but be unable to heal it….it pained me–haunted me–more than anything ever has.”

  He kissed her again, with more passion, trying to convey in the caress of his lips how much he cared. “I love you, Ariana, Princess of the Realm, Priestess of Avalon. I love you.”

  She did not respond, nor did he expect a similar pledge from her. Wrapping her up in a blanket, he threw on his clothing and scooped her up, carrying her back to her hut.

  ****

  Crow laid her on her pallet. She half-feared, half-hoped he would simply leave her and say good night. She wanted him to make love to her again, but her sex throbbed from their coupling, even the inner wall ached from the pounding. He settled behind her, stroking her hair without apparent ambition and her eyes grew heavy before she drifted into a comfortable sleep.

  She woke to the sensation of Crow’s cock pressing against her backside, his hand roaming up the side of her naked body. It settled over her breast, as if it belonged there, squeezing and pinching her nipple until it stiffened under his fingers.

  “You are quite practiced, are you not?”

  “Nay,” he breathed in her ear. “You inspire my best work.” He rolled her to her back and applied his mouth to her eager nipple, sucking it until she felt an answering tug between her legs. He worked his way lower, kissing and caressing across her belly, lifting one leg up and out of the way to expose her sex to his view. He did nothing but stare for a moment.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Admiring,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

  She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, embarrassment overcoming her, but he gave her a slap on the arse.

  “You are going nowhere. You promised I would have my way with you, and I intend to enjoy it.”

  “It was not an open-ended invitation,” she said, surprised she managed to keep her tone level when his tongue swirled over her sensitive bits.

  He lifted his head, meeting her eye. “Understood. I shall make it worth both our whiles, then. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot. Truly, I cannot.”

  He laughed. “Your shame becomes you. I never think of you as innocent, but you know little more than the poor maid who gave herself to me at my initiation fifteen years ago.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her slit, spreading the moisture. “Let us begin here. Which entrance shall I use when I fuck you?” he asked, touching her back hole with his other thumb.

  “Is that a Saxon word?” she gasped.

  “Aye. Do you know what it means?”

  “I can guess,” she said, squirming at the sensations his two thumbs made in concert.

  “What is your answer?”

  “The first one–the right one.”

  “This is the wrong one?” he teased, pushing his thumb against her back hole and gaining access.

  She gave a moan of protest. “Aye!”

  He chuckled. “So this is the entrance I should use?” he asked, slipping his other thumb deep into her sex, the palm of his hand pressing against the most sensitive area.

  “Oh yes!”

  “Shall I prepare it with my fingers?” he asked, moving his thumb in and out. “Or my tongue, or both?”

  “Both?”

  A satisfied grin lit his face. He bent his head and licked a circle around her pleasure point while slipping a finger inside her. She wriggled and squirmed, the sensations shocking. He held her hips down with one hand, using two fingers within her now, curling them up to touch her inner wall. He continued his ministrations until she reached the edge of ecstasy, then he abruptly released her and sat back.

  Dazed, she leaned up on her elbows to find him grinning.

  “Now what do you want me to do?”

  “Take me,” she breathed.

  He rolled her to her belly, then tugged her hips in the air until she stood on her hands and knees. She waited, nervously. Despite her priestess status, her sexual understanding had not included most of what Crow had done with her.

  When she felt the head of his cock at her entrance, she understood. Arching her back
to him she offered herself like a barnyard beast. Her sex open and ready this time, he eased in without causing her pain, giving her time to accommodate him. When she began to press back at him, he increased the velocity of his thrusting until she thought she would scream with need. Each in-stroke brought a fresh wash of pleasure, each outstroke stoked a yearning for more.

  “Oh! Gorran...Crow. Yes...yes!”

  He gave a beast-like growl and thrust deep within her, holding her hips against his as he spent. She took his cue and gave over to the spasms, jerking and bucking against him until she reached her full release.

  Easing out, he used the edge of the blanket to clean her, planting a kiss on her backside. “Thank you.”

  Thank you. She did not utter the words aloud, already rehearsing what she must say next. Standing up and donning her chemise and blue woolen gown, she turned to face him where he stood replacing his sword belt.

  “Gorran.”

  He jerked his head up, catching her change of tone.

  “You must leave Avalon now. I release you as my slave.”

  He stared at her, his mouth going slack. “The edict was your brother’s. I gave my word to protect you.”

  She shook her head. “You already said you could easily escape him. Or you may take it up with him. I do not believe he will take your head. Either way, you may not remain here at Avalon.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Why not?”

  She raised her brows. “You know you do not belong here. And the business between us is finished. You have my forgiveness now. Go.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed and his hands went to his swords, as if he might need to fight. A charged silence grew between them until he broke the tension, turning and stepping out of the hut without another word.

  Chapter Eight

  Mayhap the same death wish that drove him to participate in the fall tournament sent him straight to Stonecroft. If the king killed him, so be it.

  “Joining the troops?” the guard asked him at the gates. The sounds of a great throng of men floated out. King Broderick must be raising troops for battle.

  “Aye.”

  “Present yourself to Sir Jeffrey.”

  “Thank you.”

  He stepped in the bailey, taking in the scene. Hundreds of men had gathered, some armed with swords, some with crossbows, some with nothing more than their eating knives. They milled about, as the king’s knights issued orders and supplies.

  He stood in line to present himself.

  “Name?” Sir Jeffrey asked without looking up.

  “Gorran.”

  His head jerked up in recognition. “Why are you here, slave?”

  “The princess sent me away.”

  “Then you shall be hanged,” Sir Jeffrey said.

  “Aye.”

  “My lord!” Sir Jeffrey signaled to the king as he passed by. “The princess has sent her slave back.”

  The king stopped, turning to look at him. “Come,” he said, walking on to give an order to the next knight. He approached the ruler, surprised he allowed him so close without guard or removing his weapons. It spoke of the king’s confidence in his own ability to defend himself.

  “What happened?”

  He shook his head, his throat moving but no words coming out.

  “I heard Ariana served as honored maid last night.”

  “Truth.”

  “And you, her chosen mate.”

  “Aye.”

  Broderick stopped and folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing. “Did you hurt her?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Anger her?”

  “No,” he swallowed, reluctant to share private details, but knowing he must explain. “She said she forgave me. She told me the conflict between us had been settled, leaving no reason for me to stay, especially since I do not belong at Avalon.”

  Broderick considered him, as if measuring the truth of his words. “The Picts are coming and I have called up all my men. The new Duke of Wellridge–the previous duke’s brother, said he cannot come as his own castle requires defending.”

  He adjusted to the change in topic and his surprise at receiving the king’s confidence. “You believe he is the threat?”

  “He could be. I have no proof. And I do not have enough men to protect Stonecroft and also ride out to fend off the Picts.”

  “My sword is yours,” he pledged, guessing at the king’s reason for confiding.

  “Can you raise a troop?”

  “If you grant them amnesty for the ransoming of the princess.”

  Broderick raised a brow. “I should grant amnesty to men who drew swords against me?”

  “’Twas not against you, but to defend me.”

  “So you are their king, not I?”

  He shrugged. “They love me as their leader and know little of you. They are not from fine families or well bred. But I have trained them and they fight with as much honor as any man.”

  “Bring me your troop.”

  He started to move, then stopped. Broderick could be setting a trap. “I require your word they are pardoned from all guilt related to my crime.”

  A small smile played on the king’s lips, as if he appreciated Gorran’s suspicious nature. “I give you my word: If your men pledge their swords to me, all will be forgiven.”

  “Lend me a horse?”

  The king rolled his eyes, but called out to one of his knights. “Find Gorran a mount.”

  The knight gaped at Gorran’s reversal of fortune, but departed on the errand.

  “I will return in three days,” he promised with a bow.

  He rode off, not entirely sure he trusted the king. But then, King Broderick could hardly be certain of his loyalty, either.

  He returned with seventy men, a motley troop of deadly warriors, eager for battle. King Broderick’s troops looked well organized, camped out in the bailey, all wearing the king’s blue tabards. He brought Sir William and a few warriors with him to report to the king.

  “We ride out tomorrow. The Picts just won the kingdom to the north. I cannot allow them to even set foot in my realm,” King Broderick informed him.

  “We are ready to ride.”

  He shook his head. “You will not accompany me.”

  “You are leaving us to guard Stonecroft?” he asked, surprised the king should trust him with such a task.

  “No. You will take your troop to Wellridge. Lie in wait for him. If he emerges with any sign of a troop, destroy them.”

  “Without proof of his intent?”

  Broderick did not answer.

  “You are sending me because if I fail, or if they were not maligned, you can simply claim I am a rogue warrior, enemy to your throne.”

  A smile played upon Broderick’s lips. “Precisely.”

  “What is in it for me?”

  The king whipped out his dagger, holding the blade underneath his chin. He checked his own instinctive response to draw against the king but his men did not. He held his hand out to signal them to stand down.

  The blade scraped at his throat, but did not press enough to cut his skin. “Is my pardon not enough?”

  “You promised your pardon for pledging our swords. If we are not wearing your tabard, we are just a mercenary troop, fighting for pay. So, my lord...how will you pay us?”

  Broderick smiled and put his dagger back in the scabbard. “You take Wellridge and it is yours.”

  He narrowed his eyes. It seemed too generous an offer and he still did not wholly trust the king. “You must think I will fail.”

  The king grinned. “You are mistaken–I am certain you will succeed. On one knee.”

  He lowered to one knee, still puzzling out the king’s motive.

  Broderick placed the flat of his sword on the top of his head. “I restore your knighthood, Sir Gorran, and with your pledge of fealty, pardon your past treason.”

  “I pledge my fealty to you, my lord.”

  “Mithras be with you.”
r />   He rose from his knee. “And also with you,” he said with a bow.

  ****

  She longed to stand atop the old observatory tower but Crow had reduced it to rubble. An enormous pile of stones remained where it had once stood, and perching atop the wobbling rocks did little to bring her the peace she used to find there.

  She knew, with every bone in her body, she carried Crow’s baby. Though only a few days had passed, she felt the spark of life within her. She had done the right thing.

  And yet, emptiness consumed her. The first signs of spring bloomed everywhere, but the joy she usually experienced at the sight was absent. She could not muster an interest in any of her tasks, nor in her future.

  She walked through the next weeks in an even darker haze than after her abduction. Staring in the well at the full moon, she saw nothing, as if she had lost all connection with spirit.

  “What do you see, child?” Lilian asked, appearing behind her.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Because you do not want to see.”

  She whirled on the woman, angry. “What do I not wish to see?”

  “Ask yourself.”

  “I have. I know not!”

  “Do you belong here, Ariana?”

  “What?”

  “Do you belong here at Avalon?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Do I not?” A desperation filled her chest. “I beg you, tell me what you see. I cannot decipher any of it.”

  “Messages are best heeded when we discover them ourselves.”

  “I cannot!”

  “Aye, Ariana, you can.”

  She brushed at the tears running down her cheeks and put a hand over her womb. “Is this not a special child? Spawned during the fertility rites, by the honored maiden? How could I not belong at Avalon?”

  “You are more than a priestess, Ariana, you always have been. You represent two sides of a stone–the outer world and the inner. Ask yourself, to which world does this child belong?”

  “To which world…?”

  She saw him, then. Her son as a brave warrior, with her brother’s crown upon his head. Love and pride filled her chest. “I bear a king.”

  Lilian nodded.

  “So I must raise him elsewhere?”

  Lilian cocked her head. “Your son could easily be fostered by his uncle, the current king. Your fate, nay, your decision, is not guided by the child. Your decision is about your own desires. When have you last given weight to your own wants and needs?”