by Sandra Hill
She whimpered at his touch, but did not shove him away as was usually her wont.
“Ten nights,” he told her, before he could bite his tongue.
“Wha-what?”
“You want protection under my shield, you forfeit your virtue. Ten nights in my bed, dusk to dawn. Simple as that. You will let me do whatever I want. You will do whatever I ask of you.” He waited for her to slap his face or kick him in the shin or lambast him with ugly descriptions of his character, but that did not happen. The quicksand is getting deeper and deeper.
“You cannot be serious.” She looked as if she might upheave the contents of her stomach.
“Serious as sin.” Oh, this is fun. She will no doubt attempt to push me over the wall. I’d best be ready to sidestep her assault.
“You are a wicked man.”
“Yea, that is one of my better attributes.” Come, m’lady, show me what a fierce fighter you are.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because I want to.” It will come now. I am ready.
“Any acts, you say?”
Whaaat? Is she actually considering my insane proposal? I have really gone too far. Well, what the hell! “Any and all.”
“Would that include…perversions?”
He started to laugh, then coughed when he tried to stop. “Definitely,” he said. Oh, I wish Geoff and Wulf were here to witness this. They will never believe me.
“’Tis a deal,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.
At first, he did not realize the implications of what she said. When he did, he stared down at her outstretched hand as if it were a snake.
But she took the initiative and grabbed his hand to shake. The grin on her face was like that of a cat who had just licked up all the cream.
Caedmon realized, too late, that he had made a big, big mistake, underestimating a Norse witchy woman. He was caught. And he was tingling, all over.
CHAPTER TEN
If kisses could talk…
Breanne stared up at Caedmon, trying her best to hide her dismay.
She had just agreed to his vile proposal in order to save her sister, but she did not really expect that he would follow through. Chivalry would emerge the victor in the end.
“How shall we seal this bargain?” he said, smiling at her in the most wicked way before lacing his fingers with hers again.
“Wha…what do you mean?” Oh, the brute is going to bleed my humiliation for every drop.
He tugged her back into an alcove. “If we are going to be intimate, surely a kiss would not go amiss now. A pledge, so to speak.”
I knew it. Well, two can play this game. “Hmmmm. I suppose one little kiss would not hurt.” She tried to free her hand and found herself against the wall. He released her hand, but his body was aligning itself with hers in a way-too-familiar manner.
“There is no such thing as a little kiss amongst lovers.”
Lovers? Me? Us? “Get it over with then.” She closed her eyes and prepared for the distasteful exercise.
She heard him chuckle, but he did nothing.
With her eyes still scrunched tight, she asked, “What are you waiting for?”
“Open your lips, Breanne.”
Her eyes shot open. “What?”
“Just like that, dearling.” He settled his lips over hers then, and, oh, it felt so good.
Reflexively, she curved her body into his and put her hands on his shoulders.
He moaned.
Oddly, it gave her a thrill that she could make this big man moan.
“You have the most delicious mouth, lips made for kissing,” he murmured, putting a hand on her chin to hold her in place. The other arm went around her waist and yanked her closer. Her suddenly aching breasts, under the aspics, were crushed against his chest, and he had somehow managed to step between her legs and press his manpart to her female part.
She almost swooned at the intensity of tortuous pleasure.
He was tongue-kissing her now, and she opened wider, wanting more of the delicious friction. Tentatively, she put the tip of her tongue in his mouth and was rewarded with another moan of pleasure.
They were both panting for breath when he leaned back to look at her. “Why is your bodice all wet?”
At first she could not speak, so aroused was she. Finally, she managed to tell him, “You must have squished me. My aspics are melting.”
His dark eyes went incredulous. Then he burst out laughing, hugging her to him before bracing his arms over her on either side of her head. Her mouth seemed to fascinate him, especially when he traced the slickness left from their kiss with a forefinger. Holding her gaze, he put the moist fingertip to his mouth and sucked.
She felt a reciprocal spasm low in her belly.
“Ah, Breanne,” he said, forehead to forehead, “we are going to be so good together.”
That was what she was afraid of. Suddenly, she realized that there was a strong possibility he had been serious, that this was no game he was playing to embarrass her. Ten nights with a knight!
To her mortification, she realized that she could not wait.
Wake-up calls can be brutal…
Caedmon was awakened at first light by his children, all ten of them.
Through sleep-bleary eyes, he watched as Piers sat his little rump down on his lower belly and began to bounce, not the best thing to do to a man first thing in the morning. He took him by the waist and moved him higher up on his body.
Beth had climbed up on the bed to snuggle at his one side, and Mina on the other. The twins, Alfred and Aidan, along with Angus, his usual glower in place, stood at the foot of the bedstead, just staring at him. Oslac, Kendrick, and Joanna, the three Welsh bratlings, were standing in the corner in front of Hugh, who had a hand on two of their shoulders. It appeared as if he had dragged them here against their wills.
“What is amiss?” Caedmon said, trying to ignore Piers, who was doing a job on his belly, calling out, “Ha-see, ha-see!” over and over. Caedmon assumed he meant horsey. And he was drooling on his chest. A new tooth coming in, he supposed.
“Yer holdin’ the shire court here next month,” Kendrick pointed out. “We would like ta hold a family court first.”
“Whaaat? I have ne’er heard of such. Why?”
“We want a mother,” shy Mina said, immediately hiding her face in his side after her outburst.
Beth raised her head to look down on him. “Whilst the princesses are here, we have seen what we are missing.”
“Oh? What might that be?”
“The food tastes better,” Alfred pointed out.
“An’ my head lice is gone,” Aidan added.
“I like the roses,” Joanna said, then snarled when Oslac and Kendrick elbowed her from either side. Hugh put a quick stop to that by smacking the two boys aside their heads.
“Lady Breanne helped me fight some bullies,” Angus surprised him by saying even as he glared at the three Welshies.
“Mayhap ye would be happier if ye had a woman,” Alfred suggested.
“I am happy enough.”
“A man needs a bedmate,” Aidan said. “Geoff tol’ me so.”
“Geoff talks too much.”
“Can I be a princess when I grow up?” Mina asked.
“Only if you marry a prince.”
Mina started to cry.
Beth blinked at him through tear-filled eyes. What? Did she want to be a princess, too? “Aunt Alys wants ye to wed again, Father.”
“That is so she can flit off and ignore her responsibilities.” Really, this was a ludicrous situation. “And you, Hugh, what do you think?”
Hugh’s pale face turned paler, with rosy patches on his cheeks. Hugh did not like to call attention to himself, this son of his. “I like the Lady Breanne,” he said, as if that had been the question.
“Well, I am not in the market for a wife, and neither are the princesses wanting to wed.” Leastways, he did not think so.
All of their lit
tle shoulders drooped.
“Why is there a tent behind Piers’s bottom?” Joanna inquired, cocking her head to the side to see better.
Everyone else, except for Piers, also looked to the section of sheet over his manpart. Oh, my God! He immediately raised his knees to hide his “tent.”
“Do you know nothing, Joanna?” Oslac commented. “We men have morning thickenings to deal with.”
We men? Help! Oslac was only seven years old.
“It means he has to piss,” explained Kendrick, who was also only seven years old.
Coughing to clear his throat and change the subject, he said, “I promise things will be better here at Larkspur in the future.”
They did not look convinced, but there were no more arguments.
“Now, off you all go. Ask Amicia to give you some bread and honey. Except for you, Hugh. You stay.”
The look of sheer horror on Hugh’s face gave Caedmon pause. A son should not be fearful of his father. Respectful, of course, but not afraid.
Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side, he motioned for Hugh to sit beside him.
“Starting this morning, you will be squire to Wulf. You will do battle exercises with the men, under his mentoring. Go to the weapons room and Henry will allot you a sword, shield and other battle gear.”
Tears welled in Hugh’s eyes, which he quickly blinked away.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because it is time for you to learn a man’s work. Someday you will be the master of Larkspur. It is past time you began training for such.”
“Me? But I am a bastard.”
Caedmon cringed at the word. “It matters not. You are the oldest. One more thing, Hugh,” he said, putting a hand on Hugh’s shoulder. “I would have the name of the man who tried to abuse you.”
Hugh tried to rise and leave, but Caedmon held his hand firm.
“She should not have told you.”
“Yea, she should have. More important, you should have told me yourself.”
“You would not have listened.”
“Not at first, mayhap,” he conceded, “but I will be more open in the future. And know this, you did naught to be ashamed of. Men who prey on young boys are vultures who must be put down.”
Hugh started for the door, a huge smile on his face, no doubt contemplating his shiny new sword. He turned at the last minute. “Are you certain you would not like to take Lady Breanne to wed?”
“Absolutely certain.”
But there are other places I would like to take her. Like my bed.
From then on, Caedmon worked like a madman, catching up on all the work at Larkspur. Mayhap he was energized by his continual efforts not to think about Breanne and their “deal.”
Or more likely he was energized by thoughts of what delights might be in store for him if he went ahead with the “deal.”
First off, Caedmon met with his steward. Whilst the two of them ate hunks of manchet bread with more of the leftover boar, still delicious even with its congealed sauce, he asked Gerard for a listing of all things that needed to be done about the keep, inside and out. “In order of necessity,” he added.
“The princesses have done my work for me in getting the inside in order, I must admit,” said Gerard. “More linens and blankets are always needed, but once the sheep are sheared and our weavers and seamstresses set to work, they can be replenished. Huntsmen and fishermen will go out throughout the summer, to put food on the table, but also to salt and set aside for winter.”
“Larkspur is self-sustaining then?”
“As long as there is no famine or drought. Even so, as you know, there are still provisions that we must get from the nearby market towns. Along with certain spices.”
“Mayhap not so much since Drifa has the herb garden flourishing again.”
“Possibly. But what happens when she is gone? This keep needs a woman in charge of women’s duties.”
“Why can men not maintain herb gardens?”
“Find me one.”
“Make a list for me of everything you need. And of course I will need to know what we bring to market. Please God, let there be some income.”
Gerard smiled. “We have about three dozen hogs, two sows and two dozen piglets in the new pigpen. Then there are roughly three dozen pigs pottaging loose in the woods, getting fat on acorns and such.”
“How many of those are needed for fall butchering here, and how many can be sent to market? Same is true of sheep. And beef cattle. I am thinking of sending forth Wulf on an errand. He could lead a troop of men with some of these animals now.”
Gerard nodded and said he would have the tally ready for him by later that day. “Methinks we should keep the sheep until autumn this year. We need all the fleece we can get for weaving. Next year mayhap we can spare some for trade.”
Next up for meeting with Caedmon was Henry, his castellan. Henry was in charge of all things military. Weaponry and daily exercising of the fighting men in warcraft. Wulf would soon be taking over most of those duties.
“We have two hundred fighting men here at Larkspur, including those who came back with you,” Henry told him. “I have divided them into archers, swordsmen, and those proficient with lance, mace, and battle-axe. Not that they do not all practice in all those skills.”
“Let us start thrice daily exercises with the third being man-to-man combat practice.” He also told Henry of his plans to establish a small fortress at the northern end of his estates to ward off the reivers. If there was protection, he was sure he could lure more of his cotters to move to those outer reaches to farm and care for cattle, especially if he offered the incentive of a share of the crops.
He talked to Amicia about the larder and what provisions they needed to supplement Larkspur’s bounty. Amicia kept giving him sly looks.
“What?” he asked finally. “Have I grown a horn atop my head?”
She laughed. “Ye have already sported horns with all your deviltry. Nay, I am just trying to picture why the lass is so determined to keep you at bay.”
He was not about to ask which lass, but his silence did not deter the intrusive cook.
“Do not pretend disinterest in the lady. I can see beyond yer pose.”
“I am not posing.”
“And do not be deterred by her lack of a bosom.”
Caedmon choked on the piece of oak cake he was nibbling and had to take a long draw of ale to clear his throat. “Are you referring to the aspic bosom, or the nonexistent bosom?”
“Tsk-tsk!” she said at his pathetic attempt at humor. “Big bosoms are not everything, you know.”
Oh, God! I am being given sex advice by my cook, a woman the size of a warhorse with the hint of a mustache. “When did I ever say big bosoms were the be-all and end-all?”
Amicia waved a hand dismissively. “There is not a man or boyling alive who does not lust after big breasts. Look at Gerard if you do not believe me. But I have it on good authority that the lady has big nipples. Methinks that may be some compensation.”
Caedmon’s jaw dropped at his cook’s blunt words. Big nipples. Now that the image is planted in my brain, I will be able to think of naught else in her presence.
“Big-nippled women have no control over their passions,” continued Amicia.
Is that true? Surely I would have heard of that before. “Where did you ever hear such a thing? Nay, do not tell me.”
“I knew a man who knew a woman who ran a brothel. She said the big-nippled women were extra sensitive there.” She patted her own breasts as if he would not have known where nipples are located. “One flick, and the trollops would be oozing woman dew.”
Good Lord! Best I cut this conversation short afore she starts on other parts of Breanne’s anatomy. “Uh…Lady Breanne would not like your discussing her female bits.” Of course, now the only thing he could think about, with vivid mind pictures, was Breanne with big nipples.
As he walked away, quickly, he remarked to himself, An
d Gerard thinks I need more women about. I think not!
After inspecting the castle, inside and out, he thought about big nipples. Going over the ramparts and palisade for defects that needed work, he thought about big nipples. Then, working with the men in swordplay, he thought about big nipples. When he invited Geoff and Wulf to come share a cup of ale with him in the great hall, he admonished himself not to mention…those things he was not thinking about.
“Geoff, would you be willing to take the princesses Ingrith and Drifa to Heatherby? If asked, you could say they are needed to help plan the wedding. Cooking and decorations.”
“I suppose so,” Geoff said, studying him for elaboration on his request.
“And you, Wulf, would you be willing to take the princess Vana, in disguise, with you on a trip to market? You can do my trading for me, perhaps posing as my agent and his lady wife, but afterward I would like you to disappear with the lady for several sennights until we see how the wind blows with Edgar and Dunstan.”
Wulf, also, agreed hesitantly. “Wouldst want me to take her to Ravenshire, or for that matter, to her father in the Norselands?”
He shook his head. “’Tis too dangerous right now. Havenshire’s friends will have guards posted near both places.”
“Mayhap you could take her to Wales,” Geoff suggested. “You could kill two birds with one stone. Protect Lady Havenshire and meet your betrothed.”
“Mayhap you could stick your wagging tongue up your arse,” Wulf suggested sweetly.
Geoff just grinned.
“I know it is asking a lot of you, Wulf, to take Havenshire’s widow under your wing. You could be accused of being accomplice to the murder, or at least of hiding a murderess. Same with you, Geoff, I am asking you to share a danger that is not yours.”
Both men waved aside his concerns.
“Oh, and one of you should take Rashid with you.”