Ram Thruster

by Georgia Fox

  He glowered at the lady and then pointedly focused his gaze on Ariana again. "Have you given thought to our conversation yesterday?"

  "I have, but I have made no decision yet in regard to marriage."

  "If you hope to plan a coronation now for your son, we must discuss a regency. He is too young—"

  "God must think he is ready, or he would not have taken Septimus from us. Do you know better than God?" She walked by him, accompanying Lady D'Arbanville into the great hall.

  "That man makes my skin crawl," Apollonia exclaimed. "Why don't you tell him you're not going to marry him?"

  "Because then he will stop pretending to be polite and concerned about me. For now, as long as he thinks I might comply with his scheme of a joint regency, he must wear his mask of civility."

  Apollonia shuddered. "I suppose so, but Elinor Marchand has a vicious temper, and she will take it out on you in some sly way if she finds out he has proposed to you and that you are considering it. She was your second before and to find herself in that position behind you yet again will surely be galling. I believe she has ambitions to dispose of her husband and marry Humboldt. Whether he is aware of it or not. So I would put no evil deed beyond her, Ari...oops," she raised a hand to her mouth, "I must call you majesty again now we are here."

  "No. You may call me Ari. We are friends now and you have done more for me than anyone ever has by helping me escape my cage, even if it was only for one night. I owe you much." She knew that none of her other ladies would have been bold enough or brave enough to take her outside the palace walls with them. Nor would they speak to her so frankly on the matter of men.

  "Well, you certainly look happier today, Ari. I trust Ram Thruster has something to do with that glow upon your face?"

  Ariana chuckled softly. "Oh, you may be sure of it." And she was feeling rebellious, alive. She could feel, at last. Ah, that reminded her. "Will you help me again? I need vinegar and water."

  "Of course. I'll prepare a bath for you and none of the other ladies need be there."

  "Thank you, Apollonia. And later, perhaps I could read one of your seditious books?" There might be useful tips for her to read, she thought. After all, Ram was much more experienced than she.

  The other lady laughed. "I would be honored to count you among my readers."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Humboldt stood in his way with a face like thunder. "Where did you take her? She was with you, was she not?"

  "Who?"

  "Don't mistake me for a fool."

  "I'm here to protect the Queen."

  "You let her leave the palace walls? She could have been taken for ransom, struck down."

  "Not as long as I'm with her."

  The other man sneered. "That will not be forever. Soon a decision must be made about the throne and if she wants to keep peace in the land she will accept my proposal. Then you'll be gone. I won't have you here."

  Ram looked over and saw Lady Marchand standing near, clearly waiting to talk to Humboldt. "The grim reaper awaits you, Bonneville. Don't let me keep you from her. From what I hear she's not very patient. She might put something very bitter in your bread and milk."

  He followed the ladies inside, aware of the other man's glare ripping holes in his shirt, but he didn't look back. Taking the stairs to her private apartments, he encountered a maid coming down with an empty water jug. "Where is the Queen?" he demanded.

  "Taking her daily ablutions, sir. You'll have to wait outside."

  He nodded and walked on, his long stride taking him down the passage and past the two very young guards, who jumped to attention when they saw him coming. One frown from him was enough to make them shit their chausses.

  "Where are the other men who guard the Queen?" he demanded.

  "We are her only guard now, sir," one of them ventured anxiously.

  Ram shook his head grimly. They had reduced her guard yet further. Of course, she had no voice in the Council now the King was gone. Neither did Ram. Septimus was the only one who considered him worth listening to, and then only when he was in the mood. The others were all learned men who would not listen to his concerns. The Queen had so few friends he realized in that chilling moment, no wonder she didn't know which way to turn. Two nights ago, when she sent that four-leaf clover for him, he hadn't thought of how very alone she was until he saw her waiting in the laundry room, stripped of all her gold and silver finery. Now it occurred to him that she wasn't merely alone, but lonely.

  He followed the dribbles of spilled water, then passed several other ladies, came around a corner to a door under an arch and knocked upon it.

  After a moment Lady D'Arbanville appeared, holding a towel. She looked surprised. "You can't come in here. What are you thinking?"

  "Yes, I can." He smirked. "I'll turn my back, but she can't be anywhere without me."

  She rolled her eyes. "The Queen's with me. I'm safe."

  "I don't know that, do I? You're a mischievous woman."

  From behind her, Ariana called out, "Let him in. He can stand behind the screen. In case a murderous assassin decides to take advantage of me in the bath."

  Thus he entered the chamber and saw her in the hipbath, hands over her breasts. Her hair was loose over her shoulders and already wet.

  "What if someone saw him coming in here?" exclaimed her companion, tut-tutting as she stirred up the fire.

  "He's my body guard. I need him."

  "Humboldt will have you whipped at the stake as a hussy."

  "You did not mind sending my bodyguard to me last night."

  "That was different...away from the palace. You know these walls have eyes! You cannot do here what you would do out there."

  While the two women argued about his presence, Ram swiftly checked the room and then stepped behind the dressing screen to make some pretense of respectability. Which was foolish considering both the women present knew he was anything but respectable. The upper quarter of the screen was decorated with lacy panels. If Ariana stood behind it, the lace would be above her head, but Ram — who chose to stand rather than sit on the bench that waited there beside the washstand—was tall enough to see through the lace panels. And how could he help but look at his lover? Their bodies were still warm from each other. He could smell her on his hands.

  Lady D'Arbanville sprinkled the bath with dried herbs, and the heat of the water released a wave of fragrance that tickled his nose.

  His cock stirred with want, as Ariana rubbed soap over her arms and then her breasts. "I will meet with the council today and suggest Gaston's coronation take place soon."

  Was this remark directed at him? He gave no answer.

  "The Prince should be here," she said. "I will call him back to court. It is time to let life move on. Time he took over the role for which he was born."

  "He is so young," her companion exclaimed. "I do not envy the boy."

  "But he has been well tutored. With strong support he will manage. It's been months now since Septimus first fell ill, so we knew this day would come. Matthias Falconer has diligently worked to prepare Gaston."

  Ram thought of the skinny lad he'd ridden with yesterday. Those shoulders were not yet strong enough to bear the burden of a heavy crown, but better that than let Humboldt de Bonneville become Regent. Better that than watch Ariana marry another man. Again.

  The thought horrified him.

  Lady D'Arbanville was folding clothes, her back to the screen. "Falconer? That bore? I hope he has done more than keep the boy's nose buried in science and history."

  "Gaston is very fond of his tutor."

  "Poor boy! What does that dry, staid old fellow know about life and survival?"

  Ariana sounded surprised at the other lady's venom. "Matthias is not old. He's no more than thirty."

  "Hmph. He acts old before his time then."

  "He is a man of great wisdom."

  The blonde merely shrugged, clearly holding back more of her opinion. But barely. Ram had never heard he
r keeping quiet when she had something to say. Neither, it seemed, had Ariana.

  "You don't like him?"

  There was a pause before Lady D'Arbanville replied, "He and I are simply of two different minds on many subjects. We will always rub up against each other with our opinions." She turned to the bath again, holding out a towel for her mistress.

  But by then Ram had grown impatient, come out from behind the screen and was ready to take the towel from her. "Don't let that bitch Marchand anywhere near her," he muttered.

  She scowled, but said nothing, seemingly distracted by her thoughts.

  "Go outside and stand at the door," he said. "I'll tend her majesty."

  Ariana still sat in the bath, her skin glistening with water. "You may go, Apollonia. Thank you. If anyone approaches, tap on the door."

  The woman curtseyed and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  * * * *

  "You are chancing your luck today," she said, looking up at him. "This is a dangerous game to play within palace walls, as Lady D'Arbanville says."

  "Let me dry you." He held out the towel. "I need my hands on you."

  "You need a great many things, Villaverde." But she smiled, because he was smiling too and it was a rare sight. Slowly she stood from the bath and he closed the towel around her. "Make sure you do a good job, or I shall call Apollonia back in."

  He began to rub her gently with the towel. Or as gently as a man of his strength ever could. She could now appreciate his attention to detail, for he was very thorough.

  "You think Lady Marchand will try to harm me?" she asked.

  "I know she will. She has. I have no proof, but I know it. Whether she works alone or for Bonneville I can't say."

  She sighed. "I begin to think whoever left me that note meant so as a warning, not a threat at all. Perhaps they are on my side."

  "Perhaps. But why leave it anonymously? That's the coward’s way."

  Ariana smiled up at him. "Not everyone is quite so bold and forward as you, Villaverde!"

  "True. You're lucky to have me."

  Then he lifted her out of the bath and set her down on the floor by the fire. He knelt beside her and carefully, inch by inch covered her body in kisses.

  "Apollonia doesn't do it this way," she whispered.

  "No one does anything the way I do it. That's why you sent for me."

  "How modest of you." She caught him by the hair and lifted his head to make him look at her. "Humboldt is suspicious about us."

  "I don't care about him."

  "He could cause tremendous trouble for both of us. I haven't turned down his marriage proposal, because I'd prefer to keep him hoping and his claws sheathed. For Gaston's sake—"

  "It's always for someone else, isn't it?" he muttered, running a thumb across her lips. "What do you want, Ariana?"

  No one had ever asked her that before. She stroked his chest under his shirt and reached down for the bulge in his breeches. "This," she whispered.

  He lowered his head and licked her nipple. "Not my mind then?"

  "That too." She pouted. "Of course."

  "Of course," he grunted, loosening his breeches with one hand and her help. "If I'm staying here to mind you and the boy, I'm raising my fee."

  "Again?"

  "Like you said, Ariana, I need many things. Many things."

  "So what else do you demand from your queen?"

  He kissed her and she felt his erection, hard and arching in her hand. "Every night in her bed."

  "You know that's impossible. I am surrounded by people—"

  "You can arrange it. With Lady D'Arbanville's help. She slipped you out of here last night, under my nose, so she's resourceful. And cunning."

  At that moment the lady they discussed began to scratch frantically at the door and hissed through it that Lord Medlar approached. At speed. With two soldiers. The sound of the Queen's ladies shrieking and running after them quickly followed this rushed warning.

  "The risk is too much," Ariana exclaimed under her breath, scrambling to get up and reach for her robe.

  "He won't come in if he thinks you're bathing."

  "But he can't know you're in here."

  "She'll keep him out there." He picked her up and carried her, naked, over his shoulder behind the dressing screen. "If not, even he won't—"

  Ah, but he did. Swept up on a wave of anger, Lord Medlar was on an urgent mission. They heard the raised voices and Apollonia's protests, followed by the running footfalls of armored guards and then the door swung open.

  "I have reason to believe the queen is in danger," Medlar bellowed. "Stand aside, woman! Unhand me!" Apparently he fought off the grip of her ladies-in-waiting who tried to stop him.

  "The Queen is indisposed! How dare you! Stop at once! Majesty, they ripped the key from my hands!"

  Hidden by the screen, Ram sat on the small cushioned bench, holding Ariana astride his lap. She should have been gripped by fear, this close to being exposed in a compromising position, but she suddenly felt the urge to laugh. With Ram's arms around her she was invincible, brazen. Fuck them, as he would say.

  The Queen's guards clashed with Medlar and his companions as they all bundled into the room. Lord Medlar demanded to see the Queen.

  "What are you doing, sir?" she called out. "What on earth can you mean by this? Bursting in upon me while I bathe? Snatching the key from my lady?"

  The men stumbled to a halt, their boots scuffing against the stone, armor rattling. "Majesty, I heard that you were in peril."

  "In my bath, Lord Medlar? What peril could I encounter there?"

  "Majesty, there are rumors that you have been behaving in a curious manner."

  "In my bath, Lord Medlar?"

  "That you left the palace grounds last night without a proper escort."

  Abruptly she felt Ram's cock pushing between her legs and she gasped. "I had an escort, sir. And surely what I do is none of your...con... concern."

  Her lover's hands cupped her breasts roughly as his ample shaft penetrated her pussy and she sat impaled upon his lap behind the dressing screen.

  "Of course you are our concern, majesty. All our concern. Your behavior is—"

  "I daresay, De Bonneville alerted you to my absence from the palace." Stirring up trouble, she mused.

  "There has been other talk, majesty. Ram Thruster's men have been making their presence felt."

  Ooh. As was the man himself. Ram moved his hips under her, grinding upward, taking her breath away. She arched her back, leaning her head on his shoulder.

  "Is it true that you called him back from exile? He is not well liked. He is disrespectful and difficult."

  Yes, she knew he wasn't much liked by certain men at court, simply because he knew them for what they were and had no time for fools. The women, however, felt differently about the notorious warrior. Her ladies, led by Apollonia, had resumed their struggle to vanquish the intruder, hitting him with fans, books, hands— even a shoe from the sound of it.

  But Ariana barely listened. Every part of her was absorbed in the slow, steady rutting she was enjoying. The wonderful sensation of fullness and heat caused her eyes to close. Inch by inch his thick phallus touched hidden nerves inside her and started a rhythmic quiver.

  "Lord Medlar, why do you insist on a conversation at this moment?" she managed on a tight breath. "It is not convenient. Can I have no privacy?" She bit down on a groan of ecstasy and writhed on her lover's lap.

  "Queens do not have privacy," Medlar blustered on the other side of the screen. "I demand to know the reason for the Thruster's return after his exile. He was not called back here by agreement of the Council. He is a risk-taker and not a man who follows the rules. He shows no deference for his betters. His men will cause trouble and it will lead to nothing but unrest."

  "Majesty, shall I have this blackguard arrested and thrown in the dungeon?" Apollonia called out.

  Ram kissed the side of her neck, his fingers teasing her nipples
as he bounced her slightly astride his thighs. "I'm coming," he whispered. A second later she felt the gush, his breath shuddering against her cheek.

  "Majesty! I demand answers."

  "How dare you demand anything of her?" Apollonia shouted. "Get out. I shall have you whipped in the stocks!" The sound of her hands slapping at the other man's arms soon followed. Amid a great squawking and fussing, the guards— reinforced by several more who had just arrived upon the scene— got Medlar and his men out into the hall again and the door was closed.

  "He's right," Ariana whispered, breathless, "you are a risk-taker."

  Ram nipped her shoulder, "And now I have to wash you off again."

  She stood and felt his seed dribbling down her inner thigh.

  "Turn around and let me see," he muttered, low.

  Ariana did as he asked and stood before him with her legs apart while he examined her wet pussy. With both thumbs he caressed her labia and parted them, staring at the sticky remnants of their fucking. He gathered semen on his finger and held it up for her to lick it clean. "You like the taste of my cum, Ariana?"

  She nodded.

  "Good. You'll get plenty of it."

  His fingers opened her cunt even wider while he studied her. Then he took a wet cloth from the washstand behind him and began slowly wiping away the cream as it leaked out of her sex.

  "Put you foot up on my shoulder. I want you wide open."

  "You're very impertinent and bossy to your Queen."

  He looked up at her, eyes stern. "You want me to go?"

  Her heart missed a beat. "No."

  "Then put your foot up on my shoulder."

  Finally she obeyed his command, slightly annoyed by his manner. "I suppose you think you are in control now."

  He grabbed her bottom, pulling her closer to study her even more intimately. With her leg bent up and her foot on his shoulder, her private regions were utterly exposed to him. "Oh no. I'm not in control of this at all. Or of myself." His lip quirked in a wry smile. "Let that be a warning to you. I've never been so wildly out of control in my life." A hungry, hard look came into his eyes. "Touch yourself. Let me watch while you come."

  Her face flushed hot, but she slid her hands down over her belly and stroked her pink folds, only inches from his face.