by Sahara Kelly
Peter’s conscience threatened to choke him. Of course it didn’t really matter, since his cock would strangle him long before he ceased breathing.
“Or perhaps…” She turned in his arms, slowly letting his hands drag over her nakedness. “Perhaps they would have done this…”
Pushing her breasts hard against his chest, she slithered her hands to his neck and drew his head towards hers. Her green eyes flickered as she dropped her gaze to his lips and parted her own.
Peter groaned and surrendered.
His hands slid behind her, feeling her heat through the dampness left by the rain. She was all silk and cream and slender as a reed, but strong enough to hold his head captive as their lips met.
He couldn’t help the reflex action that brought his cupped palm up to her hair as he angled her for the kiss.
He couldn’t help the little groan of pleasure as he felt her softness welcoming him, or her tongue slide across his in a swiftly seductive lure.
He couldn’t help crushing her tight to his body as mouths opened, breaths mingled and tongues dueled, fired on by some tumultuous desire that apparently was consuming both of them. He couldn’t help but realize he was totally and completely mad.
His need was overwhelming, hammering at his brain from his cock and his balls, and demanding that he lay Freddie down in the wet grass, strip those disgusting breeches off her and plunge deep into her heat. He could do it, too. He knew she’d let him. Knew she wanted it. And him.
Her little whimpers of pleasure were telling him so in no uncertain terms. And his little groans of matching pleasure were telling him that he was in the right place at the right time and he should just go right ahead and follow his natural impulses.
He should take her, love her senseless, let her rest and then do it all over again. She’d demand everything he could give her and then some. He knew his Freddie.
His Freddie…
Like a shower of cold water, the realization that this was Freddie cascaded through Peter’s mind and snapped it back into place, letting rational thought take over.
He eased back from the embrace, missing her heat the instant they parted, but determined, for once in his life, to do the right thing.
Fuuuuck.
Chapter Three
All of Freddie’s plans and schemes had shattered as soon as Peter’s lips touched hers. His warmth, his taste, the feel of him had blown away any conscious thought and replaced it with a desire that threatened to knock her clean off her feet.
She ached. She could feel her flesh crying out tears of hot desire and her nipples hurt from wanting his mouth to claim them for himself.
And he was pulling away from her.
Fighting the urge to scream with frustration, she drew on her inner strength and raised an eyebrow at him. It took every ounce of courage she had to face him, all but naked, and not do anything more than raise that one eyebrow.
“Is there a problem?” Miracle of miracles. Her voice still worked, too.
Peter cleared his throat. Aha. She had reached him. And pretty thoroughly, if that very nice bulge that threatened to burst open his breeches was any indicator.
“Yes. There’s a big problem.”
Her eyes dropped to his crotch. “So I see.”
Incredibly, Peter blushed. “And you saying things like that is part of it.” He turned away to the horses again. If he fussed over them any more they’d probably kick him.
“So I’m not allowed to say things like that? To comment on…that?” She made sure she drawled out the word so that he’d be in no doubt of her meaning.
Peter whirled back to face her, temper lighting his eyes and his moustache twitching. “No you’re bloody well not.”
Freddie felt her eyes narrow as her own temper rose. She put her hands on her hips, heedless of her nakedness. “Well, isn’t that just like a man? You expect to kiss me, do whatever you want, let your…your lust free, but I’m not supposed to be able to do the same.”
“I didn’t kiss you. You kissed me.”
“Last time I looked, it took two, Peter, and that’s a pretty weak answer.”
Peter stalked to her and picked up her shirt from the ground. “Put this on. I don’t care if it’s wetmaybe it’ll cool down that heat that seems to have boiled up inside you.”
“Me? Inside me? I’m not the one standing around with a cock hard enough to shoe that damned horse you keep fiddling with.”
Peter’s jaw clenched as he thrust the shirt into her breasts. “Put. This. On.” He spun on his heel, grabbed the reins and mounted, grunting a little as his crotch met the saddle.
Good.
She hoped his cock would break off.
Struggling with the damp fabric that made her shiver, Freddie pulled herself up into her own saddle. The rain had eased and Peter urged his horse out from under the trees and back out across the fields.
She had little choice but to follow him, although the urge to gallop as fast as she could in the opposite direction was very strong.
For several miles, neither spoke, but eventually Peter reined in, pausing to look around and gather his bearings. Absently he passed her a piece of bread as she pulled her horse alongside his.
“Here. Eat something. You’re too thin.”
Freddie looked at the bread. Right. This would certainly help her fill out. Opening her mouth to respond, she noticed the muscle twitching in his cheek, and thought better of it.
For once, her brain told her, it might be best to keep silent.
It would seem that Peter had worked himself into a fine temper. Freddie snickered under her breath. Serves him right.
“If I recall this area correctly, there’s a small village less than a couple of miles from here. We’ll put up there for the night.”
“Yes, sir.” She snapped a sharp and irreverent salute.
It was met with a frosty glance from dark eyes. “You will do as I say, Freddie. Somehow I’ve got to put this situation to rights. And it will go a lot smoother without you fighting my authority every step of the way.”
Thoughts of caution disappeared into the wind. “Authority?” The word was close to a shriek. “You’ve got absolutely no authority over me whatsoever. How dare you even think about assuming such a position?”
She shut mental eyes against the quick image of some of the positions she’d like him to assume.
“Do you think I’m too thin?” The question popped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
Peter heaved a deep sigh. “Freddie. I need to talk to you like a…like a brother…” There was an odd sort of choke to the last word. “You can’t go on like this. Wandering around the countryside, working in the fields, acting like a…like a…”
“Like a what, Peter? Like a woman who knows what she wants?” Freddie stared out at the fields, not wanting to meet his eyes anymore, afraid of what she might see in them.
“Yes, like that too.” His words were short.
“I am not afraid to be who I am.” Freddie raised her chin. “I cannot be who I was raised to be, so I will be who I choose. I like my freedom, Peter. I’m not bound by any of those silly conventions. I can go where I please, do what I want, and as long as I can get a bit of food in exchange for work now and again, I’m content.”
Peter turned and stared at her, an odd expression in his eyes. “And what happens when winter comes, Freddie? When it’s so cold your teeth are chattering, you’ve got an empty belly because the crops are gone, there’s no work to be had, and nowhere to sleep but some rickety cow byre?”
She swallowed, held captive by those dark eyes boring into her.
“Will you relish your freedom when you wake shivering with fever? Or try and sustain yourself with that ‘freedom’ when you’re forced to dig up whatever leftover vegetables you can find from some half-frozen field in order to hang on to life? Is that freedom, Freddie? Is that what you want?”
His voice was harsh and cold. “Do you know what it’s like to freeze
to death, Freddie? Your body will curl up into itself, trying to hold on to what little heat it has. But with no food and hardly any shelter, it’ll be fighting a losing battle. You’ll get tired. You’ll want to sleep and your eyes will grow heavy. Then you won’t really feel cold anymore. You won’t know that your skin is freezing and you’re turning blue. Nobody will know, until the spring thaw reveals what’s left of you.”
Freddie stared at him. “You’ve seen it.” She’d never been more certain of anything in her life. Peter spoke with a heat that came from some private hell. One she couldn’t begin to guess at.
He looked away. “Yes.”
“Peter…I…I…”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “Let’s find ourselves someplace for the night.”
Just like that, the discussion was over.
Freddie tried to lash her temper back up to its fiery peak, but failed, since all she could see was the agony in Peter’s eyes as he took her to task. Where had he been? What had he seen that had left such an indelible mark on him?
Truly, he was not the Peter she remembered from her youth. He was…he was something else now. A man. And one she was learning more about every minute. He was still dictatorial, and still had a distressing tendency to want to boss her about, but there was more to him. A deptha pain perhaps. Something.
And she fully intended to find out what that something was.
She resolutely hardened her heart against the notion that he was even more attractive now than he had been six years ago. She refused to accept the notion that her desire for him was anything more than just that…desire. Lust.
A plain and simple need to sate the urgings of her young and healthy body.
Men did it all the time. Why couldn’t she? There was absolutely no question of any deeper emotions involved.
There couldn’t be.
*~~*~~*
Peter let his horse plod down the well-traveled lane to the lights that were beginning to appear in the village ahead. Dusk was falling, the air was cool now, and his thoughts were somber.
He hadn’t meant to lash out at Freddie. In fact, he wasn’t quite sure where his attack had come from.
No. That was a lie.
He knew exactly where it had come from. It had come from the small family he’d found at the foot of a hill one spring as he and his fellows had traveled south near the Rhone river. The beauty of the French Alps had lured them into a nearby pass and the melting snow had revealed the terror of the winter just past.
It was clear that Nature had taken its toll on the woman and the two small bodies she’d held so close. Rotting timbers lay strewn around them, a visual memorial to the small barn in which they’d sought shelter. It hadn’t been enough, and Peter blinked away hot tears as he remembered the silence that had fallen on their merry group. They’d buried the family together, in death as in life.
So many dead. No food, little shelterall seized by Napoleon’s troops as they made their way through their own country to conquer new lands, and wreak more havoc. For what?
That incident had left a mark on him, changed him in some indefinable way, and made him more convinced than ever that what they were doing was right. Men who were little more than lads had been conscripted into the army, leaving wives and children alone, defenseless, and at the mercy of whatever miseries befell them. If there was any way to get these innocents away from the approaching troops and their almost certain death, Peter and his friends had taken it.
They’d spirited whole families deep into the forests, dressed young men as old women, lied, cheated, and stolen what they’d needed to in an effort to protect those who could not protect themselves.
Their music had kept them sane, and had lightened a few hearts along the way, letting their listeners forget their worries and their fears for an hour or so. It had also helped Peter forget too.
Perhaps he’d forgotten too much. Perhaps that was why seeing Freddie, the last person who should be wandering through the English countryside trying to survive, had brought the memories back.
Dear God in heaven. What was he going to do with her?
A loud sneeze from behind him made him frown. That was all he needed. For her to catch some ague or other. It would serve her right, of course, for standing damn near naked in a rainstorm.
He blinked back the image of her body slicked by raindrops and her breasts, so perfect and full and ready for his hands…his mouth…God damn. He’d carry that picture in his brain until the day he died, most probably.
His cock stirred in agreement. He snarled a curse at it under his breath.
Of courseit wanted Freddie. She’d grown from a pretty young girl into a stunningly attractive woman, if one disregarded the hair. And he had no trouble disregarding the hair. The rest of her was more than appealingit was downright mouthwatering. It was just his damn brain that was having trouble reconciling the new Freddie with the old Freddie.
And to think she’d been someone’s mistress…
His teeth clenched together sharply at the idea of some other man’s hands on that body. He realized if that man had popped up in front of him, Peter would have run him through without a qualm.
“Peter?”
He almost jumped at Freddie’s voice, so mired in his thoughts was he at that moment. “What?”
“There’s a small inn ahead, I think. Were you intending to stay there for the night?”
She was right. Lights shone from a few tiny windows, but there was definitely a sign in front.
Peter sighed. “Yes.”
They dismounted and Freddie came to the horses’ heads to take the reins.
“What do you think you’re doing?” He knew he was sharp with her, but his usual charm seemed to have completely deserted him. He had a headache too.
“I’m taking the horses to the barn. You can get a room. I’ll sleep in the stable.”
“You will not.”
Freddie’s sigh mirrored his. “Look, Peter,” she said carefully. “I’m dressed as a boy. It’s easiest if I pretend to be your servant or your groom or something. The fewer questions asked, the quicker we’ll be on our way. You’re the one who’s moaning about the proprieties here, and it would not be proper for a gentleman to request a room for a lowly groom.”
Peter snorted. “Take the horses to the barn then, if you must. But you will return. You will sleep inside tonight, in a real bed, and have some real food. If you don’t come back, I shall be forced to come and fetch you. And I shall not be pleased.”
Freddie bit her lip, and Peter could almost see the wheels turning in her mind.
“Forget it, Freddie. You aren’t slipping away from me that easily. Wherever you go, I shall find you. You cannot hide from me now any more than you could when you were little. You’re stuck with me, and I’m stuck with you. Might as well get that straight between us right this minute.”
He frowned as another wave of pain seared through his skull. “Now get on with it. My head aches damnably, I’m hungry, I’m getting cold standing out here arguing with you and my patience is very nearly at an end.”
Freddie nodded, and Peter heaved a sigh of relief.
Finally, something was going right.
*~~*~~*
Freddie tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She wasn’t sure if it was the unaccustomed luxury of a real bed, or the sounds from the room next door that were keeping her awake, but whatever it was, it was a bloody nuisance.
True to his word, Peter had procured them lodgings, demanding a room for his “boy”, which had turned out to be little more than a closet leading to Peter’s bedroom. It was fine with Freddie. The small pallet was covered with a soft mattress and a real pillow cushioned her head.
It was a rare pleasure to be able to snuggle beneath a clean blanket and sleep only in one of Peter’s shirts he’d tossed at her from his bag.
“Here. Take this. You can’t possibly spend the night in those filthy rags.”
He’d been abrupt, and Fredd
ie could see something going on behind his harsh expression. His face was flushed, he’d eaten little of the meal brought by the innkeeper, and all indications pointed to either a headache or something worse.
She’d slipped into the garment, sniffing the scent of man and horse andhim. It was heady and seductive, and she’d stifled the urge to rub the darned thing all over her body.
A groan came from the large bedroom, and Freddie sat upright. Something was definitely wrong. She slid silently from her bed and peeked around the door that separated their rooms.
The firelight showed her a distressing sight.
Peter was tossing and turning as much as she had earlier, but he’d pushed the blankets back and was moaning in his sleep. The night was cool. He should have been chilled, not warm.
Quietly, she crossed the room and with that maternal gesture that had comforted children since the beginning of time rested her hand softly on his forehead.
He was burning up.
Freddie clenched her teeth. He had a fever, and a high one at that. She hurriedly pulled the covers back up over him, ignoring his nakedness, his wonderful body, and all the things she found so appealing about him.
Her concern was for the shudders that were starting to tremble through him.
She rushed into her room, pulled on her breeches and shoes and headed downstairs to the kitchen area of the inn.
The first crows of the cockerel outside told her it was still early, but she hoped someone might be stirring. She needed help and she needed it fast.
“Hello, lass.”
A large woman was smiling at her from behind the kitchen table, arms heavily floured from the bread she was kneading.
“Um…good morning.”
Freddie was caught off guard. This woman had immediately pegged her sex, but seemed undisturbed by the disguise.
“Ye’re up early? Bread won’t be ready for a bit yet…”
Freddie swallowed. “It’s not breakfast I need. My…my…husband. He’s sick.”