“Ain't nothing going on twixt them, Your Grace,” he explained. “I'd know it if there was.” He shook his head of carrot-cropped hair. “Kymmie ain't exactly the brightest star a'twinkling in the heavens, but she ain't the dullest, either. She wouldn't dare to do nothing immoral with the prince."
“You're sure?” Marie said, almost disappointed.
“I'd put a wager on it,” Jasper stated.
Marie's shoulders slumped. “I was hoping she was the one.” She sighed. “If it's not Kymmie, then it's another girl."
Jasper's back stiffened. “You think he's up to no good with one of the girls, Milady?"
“As you say, Jasper,” Marie said dryly, “I'd put a wager on it."
Jasper wagged his head. “No, Milady. I'd of heard of it.” He twisted his wool cap between two massive, callused paws. “I been a'watching him like you asked me to do."
“He's fornicating with one of my girls, Jasper!” Marie shouted at him. “If you haven't caught him, yet, it's simply because the man has been too careful!"
The woodcutter didn't want to argue with the mistress He knew for a fact that if His Grace was playing pass the meat with one of Holy Dale's servants, he'd have heard of it. As for the girls from the village, none would come near the prince for they'd been warned what would happen if they did. But he wanted to soothe the worry lines from his precious Little Marie's face.
“I'll find out who it is, Milady,” Jasper assured her.
“When you do,” Marie snarled, “don't confront her with it and don't let the prince know you are on to him."
“Then what should I do?” Jasper asked, scowling. “Just give me the name,” she snapped. “I'll see she is punished!"
Jasper clutched the cap tighter. “And the girl? What would you do with her, Your Grace?"
Marie's smile was chilling. “Make her wish she'd never put hands on Kaelan Hesar!"
* * * *
It was after sunset when Kaelan returned to the manor house. He had been riding the hills behind Holy Dale and had spent several hours just staring blindly out across the silvery-green waters of the pond. He hadn't wanted to come back to the manor house, but there was nowhere else for him to go. Duncan had seen to that.
“You shall not be coming back to Tempest Keep,” the Jarl had warned him. “So take what you want now. Whatever you leave behind will be disposed of."
After almost a year, Kaelan still marveled at how easy it had been for his brother to disown him. How quickly the Jarl had seized his assets and confiscated the remaining money from their mother's estate that had gone to Kaelan, leaving Kaelan virtually penniless. And to know Duncan could do all that without a moment's hesitation had been a stunning blow. To know he could do nothing about the Jarl's perfidy, had been crippling.
Now, for all practical purposes homeless and bankrupt, Kaelan was at the mercy of his wife for his food, his lodging, and the very clothes on his back, which she had bought to replace the ‘rags’ he'd worn at the Keep.
“We have a certain standard by which we live,” her father had said, looking down his nose at the cambric shirt his son-in-law was wearing. “Such dress will not suit."
When he'd gone to his room-furious with the interfering old bastard-he had found his old clothes gone. The silks and brocades and velour hanging in his armoire had made him groan with desperation. But with no money of his own, he had had no way to have other clothes made. He'd had no choice but to wear the foppish clothes his wife had ordered made for him.
Climbing the stairs to his chamber, Kaelan passed Hildy Jamerson, Marie's personal maid. The woman looked right through him as though he were a beggar on the streets of Hellstrom Town. Her upturned nose and the way she swept the skirts of her gown away from contact with his dusty breeches, made him want to push her over the railing to the marble floor below. As though she'd read his mind, she stopped on the next to the last stair and stared up at him with a murderous glint in her frosty sherry-brown eyes. He paused on the balcony, looking down at her, until she flounced her skirts and continued on.
“Snooty bitch,” he named her. As he passed his wife's door, he saw her primping before the mirror and shook his head. For a woman as lovely as she was, her soul was as ugly as a pit viper's.
“Where have you been?” she asked, not bothering to face him. Her hands were plumping up the fat sausage curls at her ears.
“Do you really care?” he countered.
Marie laughed and said no more. She bent toward the glass and dabbed at a smudge of lipstick on her pouting lips. She turned her head to see her profile from first one side to the other, then straightened her gown, smoothing down the front. She turned, walked to her chamber door, then slammed it in her husband's face.
Kaelan heard the lock engage and snorted. The last thing on his mind that evening was making an assault on Marie Keep, but the insult had been hurled at him and it was all he could do not to kick the gods-be-damned door down and take her like the bitch she was. Maybe if he were to do just that, he might stoke a fire in her frigid body.
“Not fucking likely,” he scoffed. The only thing he'd stoke by raping Marie Hesar was the fire her father would light under the faggots that would burn Kaelan Hesar alive.
* * * *
The moon was a sliver of gold high in the southern sky when Kaelan felt the bed dip beside him. He came instantly awake, out of a deep, troubled slumber, as a hand crawled over his bare arm and slid unerringly to his belly before soft, cool fingers threaded themselves upward through his chest hair.
“Marie?” he questioned, unable to believe his wife would dare venture into his chamber.
“Shush,” came the answer.
The soothing fingers plucked at the furring on his chest, then smoothed over his nipples, bringing them instantly erect. A nail grazed the left pap and sent a shiver of urgent desire racing through Kaelan's body.
“What are you doing?” he asked, knowing whoever this was in his bed was not his wife. The only touch he'd ever received from Marie had been one attached to a stinging slap that had made his ears ring.
“Quiet.” The command was firm.
The woman's hands moved over his chest: touching, caressing, stroking. Her fingers glided silkily over his shoulders and up his neck, played across his lips, silencing him once more, then splayed themselves through his thick, dark hair, tugging playfully at the scalp before descending once more to his belly.
He was being seduced, he thought, and didn't care. He was as randy as a teenage boy and twice as hard. What she was doing to him felt good-wonderfully good-and it had been a long time since he had known the sheer pleasure of a gentle touch.
“Turn over,” she ordered him and he obeyed. She straddled his naked hips and he could feel the coarseness of her nether hair grazing his backside; her nakedness made him harder still.
Kaelan closed his eyes as she leaned her weight on his back. Her fingers were strong and sure as she massaged the tight muscles, working out the soreness, easing the tension. She worked on his neck, massaged his scalp, gently squeezed his biceps. Her legs gripped his thighs as she pressed into him, kneading the recalcitrant muscles, making him hard and wet with her ministrations.
“Where did you learn to do this?” he asked, but became silent as she bent over him and placed her finger to his lips once more.
What she was going to do to him would be done in silence, he thought as he gave himself up totally to her gentle hands and warm body. The feel of her on his back, riding him, her sex pressed against the cleft of his rump, was so delicious, he groaned with the pleasure of it. He was lost the moment she slid further down him and her hands found the sharp upturn of his buttocks. His low growl seemed to amuse her and she laughed: a low throaty laugh that made the hair stir on his arms. Her fingers dug almost painfully into the firm flesh of his rump.
Kaelan jerked as her fingers slipped between the cleft of his ass. He tensed, tightening the muscles there, and she hit him hard enough on his naked flesh to make him grunt
.
“Don't,” she warned and hit him again, this time more gently, but her demand was met and he relaxed the muscles of his rump and allowed her fingers to slide downward again.
The tip of one nail grazed his opening and Kaelan nearly shot out of the bed. He wanted nothing more than to twist over, grab his tormentress and impale her on the hard length of him. It was all he could do to keep himself perfectly still, although by then he was panting and beginning to feel droplets of sweat forming on his upper lip.
She slid her hand beneath him and cupped his shaft, holding him in that way only an experienced woman can. Her thumb raked over his testicles and he squirmed, so hard he thought he well might burst if she but squeezed him one more time.
“Ready?” she whispered and her hand traveled to the tip of him and one blunt nail drove delicately down into the opening.
“God, yes!” he groaned.
Before she could deny him, he flipped over and reached for her, grabbing her under her armpits and throwing her down to his bed. He covered her and splayed her thighs apart with his knees in one violent movement that left no doubt of his intent. His hand went to his shaft and he guided himself to her with an animalistic grunt.
“Now!” she ordered him. “NOW!"
He drove into her with a mindless thrust that arched her back and slammed her upwards in the bed. Her legs came around his hips and she met him: thrust for thrust; grunt for grunt, her nails raking down his back in ten long grooves that drew instant blood. With her breasts pressed tightly against his sweaty chest, she rode him even as he rode her and her legs tightened painfully around his waist, driving him deeper into her need.
Kaelan's only thought was of the fulfillment he sought. It had been many months since he had known total abandon such as this. Since a woman had willingly given her heat to him; her fire matching his own. He slammed into her, thrusting up to the hilt, holding himself until he heard her grunt with the pain of it, then retreating an inch or two before thrusting forward again and again. The heat was building in his loins and her hot sheath was sucking him in, drawing on him, demanding his spill.
“Yes!” he heard her telling him. “YES!” Her nails gouged into his back, raked down his side, leaving stinging trails in their wake. “YES!!!!!"
He spilled his seed in a long, blinding torrent of utter pleasure. His flesh jerked inside her, felt her answering quiver, then the sharp tugging sensations of her climax that pulsed around his shaft. He heard her muffled cry of release against his shoulder, felt her sharp teeth nip him as she bit down into his flesh; the sensation made him spurt again and he threw back his head, needing to howl his own and he sank into the soft padding over her breasts and belly and lowered his head to the fragrant perfume of her neck.
“Thank you,” he whispered, utterly drained.
“Any time, Your Grace,” she answered and he knew into whose flesh he had buried himself.
When Kaelan woke the next morning, the silky soft pillows of flesh were gone from beneath his cheek, but the servant girl's scent remained. He breathed in the clean scent of soap and lilac water where her head had rested on the pillow beside his own; he stroked the pillowcase and closed his eyes to the marvel that had happened to him the night before. Not even the harsh sunlight filtering in through the window could break the mood into which he allowed himself to sink.
It had been a long time since he had known such glorious bliss in the arms of a woman. To have her touch him and take him willingly into her flesh for the sheer pleasure of it and not the onerous duty Marie made the act seem.
He relived the night again and again as he lay there-ignoring the bark of orders coming from Hildy as she set the morning maids to work. Even a tight little smile flowed over his lips as he realized the woman was right outside his chamber door as she issued her strident commands; no doubt to aggravate him, he thought. But he didn't think anything could break his mood this morning as he reluctantly threw back his covers and swung his long legs from the bed. The smell of spent semen wafted up from the sheets and the first frown of the day marred his handsome face. It wouldn't do for a maid to make this bed and catch that tell-tale scent, he thought, for Marie never deigned to set foot inside his chamber. He was debating what to do when there was a sharp rap on his chamber door only a fraction of a second before it was thrown open.
Hildy paused when she saw the prince standing beside his bed, naked as the day he had been born. Of their own accord, her gaze crawled hungrily over that lithe frame—missing nothing—then slowly settled on Kaelan's face.
“I know you have about as much respect for me as does your mistress, Madame Jamerson, but would you mind giving me time to bid you enter before you barge in here next time,” he said dryly, turning his back on the hot look of lust he had been stunned to see developing in the servant woman's eyes. He snagged his breeches from a chair and calmly stepped into them.
The sight of the prince's naked body made Hildy shiver. Even as he drew the cords up over his rump—the firm cheek muscles tightening—she felt a quick stab of intense desire spreading through her lower belly. Her Jamie was considered to be one of the best looking men in the County, but he could not hold a candle to the man whose back muscles flexed so desirably as he tugged the breeches into place on his lean hips. So intent was Hildy at viewing that delectable body, she did not note the long scratches down that muscled back.
He turned around, his shirt in his hand, oblivious to the slight gaping of his breeches where dark crisp hair nestled. The woman was gawking at him like she was starving and he were the main course. Shrugging his arms into the sleeves, eager to hide himself from her avid gaze, he scowled as his nimble fingers buttoned his shirt. “Was there something you wanted, Hildy?"
Hildy had been staring at his heavily-furred chest and the washboard ridges of prime male muscle that striped his belly. As his strong fingers made quick work of the shirt buttons, she shook herself, amazed at the lascivious thoughts there were speeding through her head. Almost wistfully, she let her gaze lift to his stony face.
“She wants to see you,” the servant woman said, somewhat surprised at the sultry purr in her voice. She cleared her throat. “In the front parlor."
Kaelan tucked his shirt into his breeches then buttoned his fly, careful not to look at the woman whose hot gaze was once more crawling over him. “When?” he asked as he threaded his belt through the loops at his waist.
“When?” Hildy repeated dreamily.
The prince sighed heavily, then raked his fingers through his hair. “When does Milady wish for me to meet with her?"
His hair was tousled so attractively, hanging low on his neck, curling around his ears. The dark gleam—like rich brown silk-glowed in an errant shaft of sunlight. Hildy wondered what it would be like to run her fingers through that lush mane.
“Hildy?"
She shook herself, stamping down the lust that had come so unbidden and unwelcome. It took every ounce of self-discipline she possessed to force all wayward thoughts of this man from her mind.
“As soon as possible,” she replied, locking gazes with him, not in the least surprised to see contempt filtering through his. She raised her chin. “Right now"
Kaelan nodded as he watched the woman's hatred return. “I'll be there in a moment."
Hildy sniffed. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to keep Her Grace waiting, but such blatant disrespect was not wise. Instead, she dipped her head in acknowledgment of his words then turned to go. She was almost out the door when she caught the smell. She stopped, looked around, and found the prince staring guiltily at the bed. Her eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared with disgust.
Before Kaelan had time to react, the woman turned back around and marched to the bed. He opened his mouth to protest, but it was already too late. She was bundling the coverlet up in her arms, throwing it aside, and dragging his sheets from the mattress.
“It is written in the Book of Morality that seed should not be wasted upon barren soi
l!” Hildy proclaimed as she rolled the offending sheets into a ball and tossed them out into the hall. Her furious glare impaled him where he stood at the foot of the bed. “It is a sin!"
Kaelan stared at her as though she'd lost what little mental capacity she had left. Then, as her meaning registered, he began to laugh. The snotty hell-hag thought he'd been masturbating!
“'Tis nothing humorous about this!” Hildy told him, offended even more by his laughing.
“Get out of here,” he laughed, shaking his head at the conclusion Hildy had reached. A perverse little imp lurking at the back of his mind urged him to tell the woman he hadn't done what she was accusing of him doing since he was twelve years old, but he knew it was better for her to think him a pervert than to suspect him guilty of adultery.
“The Book says: ‘He who practices self-abuse gains for himself a special place in torment where no gratification of the body may ever be known again!'” Hildy's face was filled with self-righteous indignation.
“Leave, Hildy,” he chuckled, “before I take matters into my own hands right here in front of you.” He laughed even harder at her gasp of outrage. When she would have protested, continued to lecture him, he took her by the shoulders-ignoring the instant stiffening of her offended person-and ushered her from the room.
Hildy spun around as the door shut in her face. She opened her mouth to condemn his vile actions once more, then thought better of it. It was best Her Grace knew what demonic pleasures her husband was taking. Hurrying away to find her mistress, Hildy came to the conclusion that perhaps she'd found the reason why the Duchess of Winterstorm had not conceived: her husband was throwing away precious, vital sperm!
“The evil man,” the servant woman mumbled as she tramped briskly down the stair. “The devilishly evil man!"
* * * *
By the time Kaelan finally joined her in the front parlor, Marie had worked herself up into a fine state of pique. Her eyes had slit with fury when Hildy had informed her what the prince had been doing and she had agreed with her servant that such a thing was evil, indeed.
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