by Georgia Fox
"I do only what must be done. I do not seek to fight, but I will defend my people and my manor." She sat tall in her chair, hands on her knees, the posture masculine. At first glance, anyone entering the room would see two men at the chess table and think nothing of it. But Dom now saw only woman. He could not believe he had ever hesitated about her gender.
He looked at her throat, where the woolen robe she wore did not cover her skin, and where her night shift was unlaced. There, by flickering firelight, he saw the little dip where she swallowed. Most women would place a dab of rose oil there, or some other perfume they distilled. She, of course, did not. Masquerading as a man she could show no such fancy for sweet perfume, or concern for her looks. Her hair, chopped to shoulder length and jagged at the ends, was rumpled, not even smoothed down by her hands before he entered. But it was the color of harvest-ready wheat in a sunny field and he wanted to touch it again, to bury his fingers in it. To press his lips to those spun gold strands.
It was difficult to imagine her leading men into battle, yet she had done so. And fearlessly.
"Tell me of yourself, Redbeard," she said. "You came to this country with William of Normandy?"
He nodded, but he did not want to talk of himself. Besides, he had to remember who he was supposed to be and she'd already tripped him up once when he spoke of his many brothers. "This manor is distant from many places. It must be a hard life you lead here."
Cedney looked contemplative. She moved another piece on the board. "Lady Rosamund will have all that she needs and most things she desires. I will see to it that she is content, although I daresay she will find life here different to that which she has known until now."
That was not what he had meant, so he tried another direction. "There are not many visitors who venture across the marshes, I suppose." He assumed this was how she managed to maintain her ruse for so long.
"Not many," the woman admitted with a terse shrug.
As Dom moved his bishop diagonally across her board, his fingertips brushed across her hand. She withdrew it hastily, looking up at him, eyes sparking.
He returned her stare, calmly and steadily. "You favor the intimate company of men to women? You may confess it to me, Bloodwynne."
Her lips parted in a mute 'o'. Then she snapped them shut.
"It is not unusual," he added. "I am merely curious—"
"I am a man like most others," she exclaimed, cheeks reddened. "I like to rut with women. You think I do not because I refused to do so this evening with Alaya the widow?" Her words tumbled out in an angry rush. "I prefer privacy for my copulations. That is why I have a separate chamber. There is naught amiss with me, and you may be assured your niece will be well pleased on our wedding night."
Dom nodded. "As you pleased me tonight." There was a pause. He gestured at the board. "It is your turn, Bloodwynne."
She made her move, banging her Knight hard upon the board, and consequently losing it when Dom swiped the piece with his next move. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him over the chessboard.
"I did not mean to distract you from the game," he said softly.
She cleared her throat. "You did not, Redbeard."
"I meant no offense. I am interested to know how you plan to satisfy your bride. I would ask any man who planned to marry my niece the same question."
She looked astonished. "You would?"
"It is an important part of marriage. Man and woman must be content in bed." He gave her a wry grin. "All quarrels can be ended under the covers, all disagreements settled. If a man knows what he does."
For a moment he thought she would laugh, but then she looked down and shook her head. "If you say so, Redbeard. I do not plan to quarrel with my bride."
"Really?" He snorted. "Good luck to you, then. You must not know much about women."
"Oh, I think I know enough to get by."
He noticed that she had relaxed in her chair, shoulders less rigid. Dom too felt easier in her presence. It was comfortable in the firelight. Pleasant in her company.
After another pause she said, "There is a look about you of something more than Norman."
"My mother was a Spaniard." He smiled. "Much to my father's distress."
"That explains your color. The dark and the light together. It is most intriguing."
Dom realized his heart was thumping harder than usual. It was gratifying to know that she took an interest in him, as he did in her. That she had studied him. Liked his looks. "Sometimes the joining of two opposites can result in something good and strong. Like Saxon and Norman."
"Are you something good and strong, Redbeard?" She had almost smiled.
He puffed out his chest. "Of course." Then he gave her a wink. "I could throw you over my shoulder and onto that bed, if you would like me to prove it."
* * * *
Oh, he tried to distract her again from the chess game, she thought. How dare he wink at her? Now he linked his hands together behind his head, relaxed as he waited for her to take a turn, as if he had not just made a suggestion of tumbling his host onto the bed for further games. Her pulse was unsteady, but she could not allow her nerves to show. He tested her sexuality, it seemed. Yet she was not certain whether he wanted to know her preferences for the sake of his niece's future happiness, or whether he was interested to know for himself.
Did he usually look at other men with such heat in his eyes? Or did he know the truth about Cedney? Questions spun within her mind.
Then he said, "The children of your marriage to Lady Rosamund will likewise be strong, as they will merge Norman and Saxon blood."
Cedney swallowed hard. Good. He was still fooled, then. "Indeed." She took his bishop.
"One day I hope to have a son of my own," he added.
She could imagine a small version of this man. A charming little warrior. "You have a wife?"
"You asked me this at supper."
"And you did not reply."
"I..." He sighed. "Yes. I am married."
Her heart sank a little, although it should not matter to her at all. "You hesitated. Why?"
He grinned. "It is a story that requires more explanation than I am currently of a mind to give."
She raised an eyebrow. "She has horns perhaps? Or two heads?"
"She has four heads."
Cedney laughed. "Very well I shall ask you nothing more about your lady wife. As long as you ask me nothing more about my preferences in bed or how I mean to please my bride." Because the more he hinted at those matters, the hotter she became, the harder her nipples pricked at her shift. Just imagining him lifting her over his shoulder and on to that bed— as he'd suggested— caused a moistening of her pussy, made her breathing quicken, tightened her throat.
He too laughed, loud and strong. "Agreed. Now pay attention to this game, for I mean to win it."
Cedney had not played chess with another being for many years. Usually she sat alone by her fire and simply swapped seats between moves. It had never struck her as sad, but now she realized how lonely she had been. Lonely for good company, for laughter and for the forbidden excitement of flirtation.
Chapter Seven
The next day dawned grey and overcast. By the time the hunting party had gathered in the yard a sprinkling of snow had begun to lighten the ground and a new chill made the air bite. Cedney wore her hooded cloak and warmest gloves. Rufus, she saw from her window, was already mounted, talking to the other riders. He had a cheerful confidence about him, she realized. A steadiness that was surprisingly friendly and warm, not often found in a man of such strength and vitality. Perhaps that had attracted her to him yesterday as much as his dark, sensual good looks. He was a big man and must be a fearsome opponent in battle. She'd seen him move quite clumsily, yet there was also a gentleness in his manner. A woman would feel swamped in his arms and yet protected. Possessed and yet safe.
Cedney shook her head, chagrinned. If only she didn't know how a woman would feel with him, but it was instinctual, unavoidable
. "Sorry, father," she whispered. "But that's what I am. A woman." Now, she must set about convincing her guest otherwise.
As she strode across the yard, he moved his horse around to greet her.
"I trust you slept well, Redbeard," she said gruffly.
"I've slept better, my lord. Much was on my mind and heart. And you?"
Cedney did not reply but looked around the yard and asked where Lady Rosamund was, only to learn that her bride-to-be thought it was too cold to come outside and preferred to stay in the warmth. Apparently she did not care if it was tradition to see her husband off on the hunt before their wedding.
"Women, eh?" Rufus remarked, chuckling dourly. "Always in need of pampering and cosseting."
Cedney mounted her horse. "The Lady Rosamund is entitled to stay in on such a day as this. I will bear her no grudge."
"Very understanding of you, my Lord Bloodwynne. 'Tis a good thing for the female sex that we are not so quick to take offense or conceive a slight as they are—that we men have honest good, practical sense."
She shot him a look, but he turned his horse for the gate and broke into a canter so she had no chance to examine his expression.
Soon the riders were racing through the forest, hounds streaking ahead, hot on the scent of fresh prey. The snow fell harder, but from the speed of the hunt she was soon sweating under her garments. As he was her guest, she let Redbeard take the lead and it seemed to come naturally to him. He bagged the first deer and Cedney brought down a second.
"Good shot, my lord," Rufus exclaimed, sounding genuinely impressed.
She glowered at him as they tied the dead beast to the gathering cart and she removed her arrow from its flesh. "I've been hunting since I was ten, Redbeard, and managed to keep the manor well fed since I was fifteen."
He nodded, his lips held tight, his eyes darkened with deep thoughts. Another odd thing to see in a man, she mused.
"Did you fear I might not be capable of providing food for your niece?" she demanded, spitting into the snow and wiping the bloody arrowhead on her breeches. "As well as a good fucking?"
Rufus eyed her in that searching way. "I am not certain you can provide all that she needs." He swiped at a snowflake that had landed on the tip of his nose. "But I see you are determined to prove yourself to me and I know why, don't I?"
Since the others had moved away, she turned to him and whispered sharply, "Because I let you beat me at chess last night does not give you the right to speak to me without the civility I am due as lord of this manor."
"You let me win?" He crossed his arms.
"I did. I decided to be kind to you."
Rufus stepped closer and she backed up. "Kind?"
"Benevolent to my guest and future uncle-in-law," she added, tense.
"Is that why you sucked my cock too?"
She tried to calm the chaos that started inside her when he spoke those words in his low husky voice. The vision of his manhood loomed before her again and she tasted anew the heat and heaviness, the stickiness passing over her tongue. Hastily pushing the vivid image aside, she exclaimed, "Whatever I was tempted to do last night, will not change the way I treat your niece, Redbeard. And you made no attempt to stop me when I..." She raised her eyes to his, but when he stepped even closer she had to tip her head back slightly. "Indeed, you seemed to enjoy it."
He uncrossed his arms and they hung at his sides, massive, oozing with power. "I did enjoy it. I can do naught but admit how much pleasure it gave me to come in your mouth, my lord. When you called me to your chamber later, I thought there was to be more of the same, but instead you wanted to play chess. On both occasions you wanted the pleasure to be all mine, it seems." His dark eyebrows arched high. "If that was your first time administering to a male guest's needs, it was...impressive."
"Whether it was my first or not is no matter of yours!" Again she backed up and then rested her arm on the side of the cart, assuming a superior, haughty pose. "But it was my last. From now on I can devote myself to my bride and her pleasure."
"I see. But what if you feel tempted in the future by a similar attraction to a man? Is my dear niece to be left in a cold bed while you indulge your prurient curiosity for another of your own gender?"
"It won't happen that way again. I am not a weakling. Now my curiosity is sated."
"Sated? Really?"
"Yes!"
A slow grin bent his lips. "You are very young, my lord. It is natural to be adventurous in such matters and perhaps you have not had much experience."
Cedney couldn't swallow; her throat was too dry. "I have not."
"So I suspected. That is why I am willing to tutor you in the subject." He paused and was so still for a while that snow collected an inch deep on his wide shoulders. "Get that curiosity out of your blood with me. Naturally I want my niece to be kept content in her marriage bed. And I can show you the many ways to bring her satisfaction. If you would allow me."
She studied the naughty gleam in his eyes—something he tried to hide by half lowering his lashes. "You would do that for your niece? Spend time here with me just to be sure she is replete in the marriage bed? That is most generous of you, Redbeard." She arched a scornful eyebrow. "And selfless."
"Oh, I wouldn't claim it was selfless." He smiled. "As I told you, I very much enjoyed the sucking you gave me with that lovely tight," he leaned closer, "soft-lipped mouth of yours. My balls are heavy just remembering what we did. You and I. And thinking of what else we could do together. Not playing chess."
She could hardly catch her breath. "You...you have played with other men before?"
"I have not. But I must say I am willing to explore with you. Somehow, the idea has become more and more appealing since last night when my crest hit the back of your throat and you greedily swallowed down a full load of my cum."
"But what else can you show me? How else can you tutor me?" Cedney shook the snow from her hood, using the action as an excuse to slip away from him, as he reached out again to touch her between the legs. "I do not wish to use my cock now before the wedding night."
"Why not?"
"I do not feel that would be fair or honest to my lady bride. I cannot fuck freely with some other wench the night before we say our holy vows before the monk." Ah, yes, that was good, she thought. A pious desire for chastity from the groom-to-be. Surely that would please the bride's uncle.
Rufus observed her thoughtfully. "There are other ways to give and receive pleasure. As you already know."
Perhaps he could teach her something, she realized. If she was to keep her bride happy and unsuspecting, then it would be important to know all the other methods of pleasuring. That way she could convince her bride that she was being savored and it might be sufficient for a while.
Suddenly her bride's uncle moved around her and placed two large hands on her buttocks. Cedney froze. But only on the outside. His touch instantly ignited that little secret flame within her body. Her breath formed a grey fog before her mouth. "Rufus Redbeard."
"Yes, Cedney Bloodwynne?" He squeezed her bottom in his hands.
She gasped, "Not here. People may see."
"I care not."
"You will not put hands on me unless I give permission, Redbeard."
"I know your secret, Bloodwynne," he whispered.
Alarm roared through her blood and set her pulse into a gallop. "You...you know nothing."
He did not immediately take his hands off her bottom, but gave another playful squeeze and suggested, in a throaty whisper, that, "A little spanking might not do you any harm, my bossy young lord."
She swung around to face him, and he paled when he found the tip of her knife pointed at his throat. "Try it, by all means, and see who gets harmed."
* * * *
Oh now he had a near rapacious need to fuck her until she screamed his name and remembered that she was indeed a woman.
Although he'd studied her all day, looking for gestures and the little things that gave away her femini
nity, Dom had found himself distracted instead, awed by her ability in the saddle. Bloodwynne was a masterful horseman. Yes, for a while he'd even forgotten she was a female, as they raced side by side. But not for long. Whenever he looked into her eyes, or riveted his gaze upon her mouth, he remembered.
Watching her ride astride that day had only further increased his desire to claim her body. To have her mounted on him the same way, leaping over a few fences with his body beneath her and between her strong thighs.
When she fired her arrow it was always a clean kill. She never missed. It was a strange feeling indeed, this admiration and respect that swept him up in its warm clutches. Women, in his opinion, were meant to serve man—his sexual needs, his stomach's needs and his children's needs. Women should stay at home and keep the fire burning while they waited for the return of the men folk. They should not be riding to hunt and showing off a high proficiency with dangerous weapons, not to mention a fearless stomach when it came to spilling blood.
Yet this woman did all that and had, apparently, done so for years.
Did she know anything about being a woman, he wondered, or had that all been pushed out of her to make way for the practiced masculinity?
She finally slipped her knife back into her belt. "Now let's finish the hunt. Work first," and then she shot him a sudden, teasing glance, "play later."
Dom felt his cock swell at the promise in those words and his racing pulse stumbled. He suspected he would have a very difficult time keeping his mind on four-legged prey for the rest of the morning. But he bowed his head in a sharp nod. "As you wish it."
"Yes," she replied firmly, her gaze sharply exploring his face. "As I wish it. I am the lord here and don't you forget it."
How could he not admire her bravery? Her balls? This incredible huntress had him trapped in her aim, and there was no escape from the tip of her arrow.