Fletcher (A Prydain novel Book 3)

by AJ Adams

  He was big, and for a moment I thought it would hurt, but he slowed, giving me time to adjust. When I was certain I’d be all right, I moaned again, arched my hips and ran my fingers down his back. He groaned and another bump of my hips had him moving hard against me, thrusting deep.

  He slid his hands underneath me, holding me close. His touch was gentle, his movements slow and careful. The massive cock stroked and thrust as he ground against my clit. It was a sweet feeling, and he smelled good.

  I closed my eyes and felt myself relax. He held me tenderly, and the bed was soft. His scent reminded me of the forest, clean and close, filled with peace. As we moved together in soft silence, I became soaking wet. The spiced wine washed back, too, adding a pleasant haze. I found myself clinging to him, swept into a world of sweet sensation.

  As his body heated, the scent of wood enveloped me. The hardness driving into me tightened my body while his hands, gentling me, held me fast. He was fierce yet gentle, his body hard and yet soft against mine. I was drowning in a world of contrast.

  I hung there, forgetting to push him to a quick finish. Our bodies danced together, subtle and firm, limber and gentle, that fragrance as sweet as a kiss.

  I held onto him, feeling the muscles flex and writhe under my hands. I felt breathless, as if teetering on the edge of a secret place. Now my moans were real, pulled from me by fierce thrusts. Gasping for air, my body arched into his, heating inexplicably, and then we were pulsing together.

  My body flamed, my cold control vanquished. My breath was stuck in my throat, my thighs were quivering, and a sudden heat was building deep inside me.

  I curled into him, my hands raking over his back, lost in time. My body floated, feeling the soft skin and hard body brush and skim against mine. My senses were swamping me, ramping up to some hidden climax. I was arching, my body burning when he was exploding into me.

  “Apollo’s laurel wreath and bow.” Trust a fletcher to come up with that, right? “Sweet Lind. Tender beauty.” Yes, I was in favour. So why did I feel a searing disappointment? As if I’d lost the opportunity for something?

  I forced myself to face facts. It didn’t matter. Freedom was my goal. His hands were in my hair, his lips on my shoulder. I wanted to push him away, to go curl up by the fire, but sense told me to be patient. He’d send me off soon to the stables, or maybe I’d rate the rug by the fire, and then he’d fall asleep.

  But Ware had other ideas. We dipped into the copper, cleaned up and then he slid me back into bed. He blew out the candle, curled me onto my side and wrapped an arm around me.

  Getting to sleep in bed was a first. I lay there, totally taken aback. “Tomorrow we buy you a shift,” he murmured. “You need boots, too.”

  That knocked the breath out of me! I’d worn boots when I was with the jongleur—it’s vital to look prosperous when entertaining nobles—but I’d not had footwear since. Boots would mean an end to bruised and cut feet as well as thorns and thistles, poop and other nameless horrors. It was a small slice of paradise.

  “Sweet dreams, Lind.”

  And just like that, he was asleep. I lay there, suddenly plagued by doubt. Oh, not about running for my freedom. That was the one certainty. A world of boots couldn’t buy my obedience. No, what worried me was how to get away clean.

  If the guards at the gate stopped me, I had no tale to tell. The collar leaves a mark; the iron wears the skin, and that meant I’d have to steal a scarf as well as a tunic. It would look odd, a girl going out alone, though. And I didn’t have a skirt, either.

  Then it hit me: with Ware’s wardrobe at my disposal, I’d dress as a boy. With my hair, it might work. If I left just at sunrise, when the shadows were long, I could swagger out. Yes, a young man out about his business was immune from curious guards. Probably.

  For a moment I hesitated. The whipping post was fresh in my mind. Then I gave myself a boot up the bum. It was time. Any more delay and I’d lose courage, worrying about the difficulties.

  I snuck out from under Ware’s arm and crept to the toolbox. The hammer lay on top. It looked fearsome.

  I sat back and reconsidered. He hadn’t hurt me, had in fact fed me better than I’d ever been. Also, he’d been gentle in bed. I put down the hammer and picked up a wooden staff. He’d have a sore head, but it wouldn’t kill him.

  I moved back to the bed, standing over him. I hesitated, struck again by doubts. Then, suddenly taking courage, I brought the staff up and swung.

  Chapter Three: Fletcher

  The staff came down, whistling in the air with the force she’d put behind it. Frankly, it astonished me. I never would’ve guessed she had it in her. She was hardened, toughened by years of careless and cruel use, but she hadn’t struck me as violent. The staff, smashing towards my face, argued I’d misjudged her.

  The little she-wolf almost killed me, and it was pure luck I survived. After the generous way I’d treated her, too! I fed her and kept her by my side. What thrall gets such care? A little voice told me I’d kept her close because her escape down the duke’s tower was still fresh in my mind, but I dismissed that. I was raging.

  All that evening, as we ate, I’d been conscious of the curious looks. I often have people stare respectfully, wondering who I am or perhaps recognising me, but this time they were gazing at my girl, thinking I’d picked up a stray from the street and wondering why I’d taken her home with me.

  “That’s Ware Fletcher, the master craftsman,” I heard the innkeeper explain.

  “The one who fought here for the Duke of Llanfaes?”

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  “Wotan bless us! Why’s he here?”

  “Well, the war’s over. I guess he’s here on business.”

  “Is he really eating his supper with a thrall?”

  “He’s been abroad too long, I think.”

  Lovely. They thought I was insane. I pretended not to notice, but it burned me to be the object of whispers and odd stares.

  “He doesn’t look dangerous,” a customer observed.

  “Better be careful,” the innkeeper whispered. “Don’t forget he’s from Llanfaes.”

  My people have a reputation for violence. Most of the time it means small-time city strongmen try and pick fights to prove they’re tough, but this time it meant everyone was being careful not to offend me. It was damn annoying. I wouldn’t have minded bashing someone.

  Lind didn’t notice. She wolfed her mutton stew as if starved, licked her fingers after scraping the bowl clear of custard and then sat in happy oblivion. There wasn’t a sign of violence lurking underneath that quiet exterior. She looked peaceful, serene even.

  I didn’t share her serenity. My mind went back in time, and I was raging again, thinking of the little shrine burned down and everyone killed, just for one man’s greed. I was aching for revenge.

  Lind got me over that. I took her to bed after supper, settling her in under the covers of the four-poster. The little scars all over her body gave me a curious feeling. It seemed monstrous to beat a girl like that. She’d been abused by fools and brutes.

  She was snappy about it, frightened, I thought, so I reassured her, “It would seem I need to buy a crop, but Wolf would disapprove.” Then I set about gentling her before taking my right. A thrall is owned by her master, and it’s her duty to pleasure him. I was simply taking what was mine, and I was careful with her, too, so she ought to have been grateful.

  I know, I know. But that was then, when I was a damn fool and a brute myself.

  At the time, all that concerned me was my pleasure. Aside from the little scars, her breasts were high and firm, her hips narrow, her waist sweetly curved. It had been a while since I’d had a girl, and the sight of those satin thighs had me solid.

  I thought she might be shy, but she was well practiced. That should have told me something, but it didn’t. When she opened her arms, I slid over and into her.

  It was as if I were coming home. All my rage and hate vanished, melting away like
winter ice in spring sunshine. I was swamped by joy and sensuous bliss. Her lean muscled body was limber, twisting around mine, driving me to release in swiftly swelling undulations.

  I drowned in her, and immediately afterwards, for the first time in weeks, I fell into deep sleep.

  I know military men who sleep lightly, aware of approaching trouble well before it reaches them. Me, I sleep like the dead. At the siege of Shahr Sha-eer, when ten thousand men were gathered before the city gates, I was right among them, having my full eight hours. Not even the elephant assault troop going by woke me up.

  But that night was different. It was the strangest thing. One moment I was deep asleep and the next wide awake. I think it was a small sound. A tiny clink of metal, something being put down softly. There was a whisper of movement, and then I sensed her standing beside me. I was rolling fast, moving purely on instinct, and it saved my life. The staff smashed down harmlessly on the fine feather pillow, and then I was gripping her wrist.

  “What in hell are you doing?”

  Do you know, she didn’t fight or even cry out? She just stood there, silent and unmoving.

  “Lind?”

  Still not a word, so I took the staff away, tugged her down to sit on the bed and lit the candle. I must have looked cool enough, but my heart was racing. Thralls don’t kill their masters. It’s unheard of. Even a failed attempt merits a slow death that would last days if not weeks. No thrall would dare risk it. The whole situation was unreal.

  She spoke softly, calmly. “I should have used the hammer, but I didn’t want to kill you. It was a mistake.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “Are you insane?”

  Lind was like a statue, showing no emotion at all. For a moment I thought she was possessed, but then she sighed and looked quite human again. The look she sent me was unloving, however. I was suddenly certain that she’d try to kill me again, the moment my back was turned.

  “The duke is a lucky man,” I heard myself say. “He had a narrow escape.”

  Lind shrugged. “So sell me.”

  She was a hard case all right, but she intrigued me. She was so slender and slight, and so calm and gentle-looking, yet she’d defied a duke’s seneschal, and her attempt to kill me had almost worked.

  My anger fled and was replaced by curiosity. Lind was interesting. Also, I needed her. Girls who can scale walls aren’t easy to find. I’d have to comb all nine cities to find her like.

  “I don’t think I could find a buyer who’d take you,” I said.

  “So bash me on the head and bury me,” Lind shrugged. “Looks like you wasted your money.”

  The girl baffled me. I’d never owned a thrall before, preferring servants who can be engaged for short periods and then dismissed. I’d thought possessing a thrall simply too much responsibility; it hadn’t occurred to me that they might need special handling.

  I didn’t know what to do with her, so I did nothing. In short, I used a strip of leather to bind her hands behind her back and rolled her into bed again. “Go to sleep.”

  Lind lay there and stared at me, completely nonplussed. It pleased me, that bewildered gaze. I felt like I was getting some of my own back. I punched my pillow into shape and blew out the candle. “Good night, tender beauty.”

  To further perplex her, I curled my arm around her again. She lay against me, her hands folded into my stomach. Her puzzlement came off her in waves, and it made me want to laugh. It also put me back in control again. I knew what to do.

  When I woke up, Lind was fast asleep. She looked exhausted. Also, she was too thin. When awake she’d moved so fluidly that I hadn’t seen her bones were too prominent. That was a good thing because it would help me. Feeding her up would establish a bond between us. It would command her attention and tame her.

  I needed Lind to obey me because I had a plan. We’d travel north, gathering information discreetly on the way. I didn’t want Ranulf to hear I was coming, so I’d work some subterfuge, like pretending I was going north on a special job.

  Once near Tanweld I’d find a guide or somehow locate his manor. The smith said the tower was smooth as glass. Ranulf must have fired the stone in the manner of the eastern lords. To those unfamiliar with the technique it would look impregnable, but I knew there would be small cracks, enough for an expert climber to hold onto.

  Lind would get me entry, climbing the walls and throwing me a rope. Once inside, I’d retrieve Apollo’s arrow and then challenge Ranulf. I would win because Apollo and all the gods would acknowledge I had the right. Also, although I’m a fletcher, I’ve been in and out of battle for ten years. There are professional soldiers who have less experience than I. Ranulf was already dead; he just didn’t know it.

  However, I needed my little thrall for my revenge. If she weren’t tamed, she’d climb that tower, give me the finger and leave me standing. Assuming she didn’t crush my skull well before that. I’ve got a wagonload of equipment, almost all of it weapons, and it was going to be impossible to keep it all out of her hands.

  A lesser man would have tried to cow her with a beating, but all those white little scars told me there was a chance that wouldn’t work. It didn’t worry me. I discovered a long time ago that threats and violence can be effective but that a soft word can be even more so.

  A coin commands service, but add a smile and you will have a maid and tavern-owner eating out of your hand, just as remembering the names of a constable’s servants will get you an audience when others are turned away. Very few people are immune. You saw how the seneschal lapped up my flattery to the point of selling Lind to me.

  I looked at my wicked thrall and decided I’d be kind, gentle and generous. Once Lind realised that life with me was much better than anything else she might aspire to, she’d change her ways and want to please me.

  The project wouldn’t be my first. Like the constable had pointed out, rehabilitating Lind would be a lot like training Wolf. My horse follows me like a dog because he’s had only kindness from me. When he was a foal, I gave him apples and carrots for doing what I wanted, and I’d turn my back on him when he bucked me off or tried to bite me.

  It takes most knights six months to train their steeds whereas it took me a year, but I have yet to see one of them whistle their horse out of the forest or command them to raise a hoof so the smith can do his work.

  I hoped Lind was smarter than a horse because I didn’t have a year to train her. It’s a month’s journey from Caern to Tanweld. I’d still have to find Ranulf, but that would not take me too long.

  I’d have to teach her to mind me in weeks, but I wasn’t worried. Apart from training Wolf, I’m a master craftsman, unparalleled in my sphere. I also excel in archery, both longbow and crossbow. I’d always achieved my goals. Bending a thrall to my mind would be child’s play.

  Yeah, I know. That arrogance was going to come screaming back at me, but I didn’t know it then. So I set about my day, happily confident and blithely riding for the first of many falls.

  Lind was awake as soon as I threw back the covers, but she pretended to be asleep. I washed, dressed, called for breakfast and went to sit on the edge of the bed. She kept her eyes shut so I blew on her nose, just like Wolf greets me. Instantly her eyes opened.

  “Good morning, tender beauty.”

  At that, her eyes narrowed. Lind was still raging.

  I ignored it and held out a carrot. “Breakfast and then we go and buy you a shift and some boots.”

  I was expecting a smile or at least a dip of the head in acknowledgement, but incredibly she was thinking it over. It was astounding. A thrall obeys; she doesn’t take orders, however pleasantly phrased, and consider them. Whoever had owned her had clearly let her run wild.

  I hid my anger, subdued the impulse to smack her on the arse and spoke lightly. “You could go about naked, but the innkeeper would be upset.”

  Lind shrugged. “What a prude.”

  Hard as nails and cheeky with it. This wasn’t going to be easy. Bu
t I stuck with it. “You could go about as you are, but it would mean no chocolate.”

  That had her eyes flickering with interest. “What?”

  “Hot cocoa. This inn is famous for it.”

  She swallowed, and I knew at once that I had her attention. Everyone has heard of the exotic drink from the far eastern continent, but few can afford it. Lind was salivating. I stifled a surge of triumph. The hook was in.

  I stroked her hair and gave her a choice. “Would you like some chocolate, Lind?”

  “Yes!”

  The word snapped out, and I could see she hated herself for it just as fast. Before she could do something silly, I rolled her face down in the pillow and untied her hands.

  “Wear the blue tunic again.” I spoke quickly, determined not to let her mess this up. “Don’t linger. It’s popular, and they may run out.”

  That was a lie. They keep enough stock for guests always, but I didn’t want her to think. As long as she kept busy, she’d not get into mischief.

  Lind certainly moved fast that morning. She dipped a cloth into the copper and then dressed and was ready for chocolate in a flash. I remembered how she’d scraped the custard from the bowl and decided to lay in a quantity of sweets to help motivate her.

  She moved well, almost dancing on her feet. I was watching her and made my first discovery: Lind looked down humbly enough, but when she glanced up, the look in her eye was at odds with her bearing. Underneath that rusty collar lay a revolutionary.

  It would have worried a lesser man, but I smiled and spoke softly, “Come on, Lind. Chocolate and tunics.”

  You know, any other girl would have melted on the spot, but Lind was no pushover. She was quiet when the innkeeper reluctantly (very reluctantly!) handed her a mug of steaming chocolate, and then all I heard was an ecstatic silence.

  I ate my bread and butter, watching Lind. She made small moaning sounds, gentling the mug as she sipped and closing her eyes in silent rapture. Seeing her like that made me realise she was quite striking. The smoky eyes softened, and she had a really lovely smile.