Warprize (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 5)(MFMMMMMM)

by Georgia Fox

  He growled in some language she did not understand and then he worked his hips rapidly, cock plowing in and out. She arched, groaning, her hands clawing at the skin of his back.

  It was rough, desperate, and yet necessarily so. Under his weight she submitted, her body cleaved to his, her thighs wrapped tight around his waist, her breasts slammed into the hard planes of his rippled chest. Their sweat made them slick as their skin rubbed and slapped together.

  "Tell me your name," she gasped out as she felt his cock swelling within her, further ravaging that once-virgin territory. "Your real name."

  Although she expected some equivocation, he told her. "Dominigo."

  Then she licked his ear and whispered that name into it, urging him on. Couldn't help herself. After so long without it, so many years of denying her needs, the act of sex consumed her, climaxes shuddering through her lean muscles one after another. Until at last he pulled out and shot a stream of semen onto her stomach.

  Then he folded her into his heavy arms and held her close. As Cedney had never been held.

  For many minutes— perhaps half an hour— they lay thus in silence, bodies twisted together in mute harmony. They were both lost in thought in seemed.

  Finally he spoke.

  "You must come away with me."

  Cedney closed her eyes and sighed deeply. She might have known he would think he was in charge now. When a man took a woman's maidenhead he considered her to be one of his possessions. But in this case the man was mistaken. "No," she said simply.

  There was another lengthy pause. His arms did not loosen their hold, but she noted the change in his breathing. It became shallower, faster.She pressed her check to the muscle of his upper chest and heard the steady, thrusting beat of his heart.

  "My place is here," she added. "It was my father's wish."

  "And what of your wishes?" he snapped. "Are you to have none?"

  She thought about this. Cedney was not sure she'd ever had any of her own. Her life was one of duty. What else was there?

  "How do you expect to fool a wife? What happens when—"

  "I can please her in many ways. She will be content. And when it is necessary to get her with child I will hire a man for the job." Cedney raised her head to look at him. His eyes were narrowed, his brow lined with annoyance. "Perhaps you could stay and impregnate her for me." Since he already knew her secret, it seemed a wise idea.

  But his scowl deepened. "Get your wife pregnant so you can continue this pretense and go on living as a man?"

  She tried to smile, although the idea of seeing him fuck another woman again left her cold inside. "Why not? What else do you have to do?"

  He sat up and she slipped from his body, falling onto her back. He glared down at her and shook his head, his lips tight.

  "I should like to have one of yours," she said as the thought of a child just like him came tumbling through her mind again. Then she added hastily, "To raise it as mine. Of course I could not give birth to it myself."

  His lips snapped open to impart the following angry comment. "A child is not an it. Especially not one of mine."

  Cedney rolled onto her side, propping her head up on one hand, her elbow pressed into the straw-stuffed mattress that was now dampened by the sport of their afternoon. "Your son then. Or your daughter. I would be a good father—"

  "Nonsense." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, stark naked and beautiful before her. "You cannot be a father. You can only be a mother. Have you lived this way so long that you forget the facts?"

  She sighed again. "Mayhap."

  "As I said before, you must leave this place with me."

  "And as I said before, no. My life is here. My destiny is here."

  He began to pace, striding up and down the side of her bed, arms folded over his broad chest. "This masquerade is dangerous, and it cannot continue for long."

  "Why not? I have managed all these years." She tried another smile and reached for him, purring, "Come back to my bed and teach me some more about how to please Lady Rosamund."

  Halting abruptly he glowered down at her, eyes sparking. "Temptress. I won't fuck you again until you agree to leave with me. Tomorrow at first light."

  She laughed sharply. How his manner had changed toward her now that he'd bedded her! She might have known that he would think this event altered her plans. "But tomorrow I am to be married."

  "Yes, to me."

  It appeared to have come out of him so suddenly that even he did not know it was there. The words hung steamily in the air along with the scent of their fucking. "I will not marry you," she said, as calmly as possible, sensing yet another change in his mood. "I know almost nothing about you." She saw the way his hands twitched and the muscle of his shoulders bulked, as if he prepared to seize her from the bed, truss her up in ropes and ride off with her. "Except that you have a wife," she added angrily. "Or so you told me."

  "My name is Dominigo d'Anzeray. I am one of seven bastards born to the great warrior Guillaume. My mother was Spaniard, my father is Norman. We live on our own castellany, by our own rules, some hundred miles from here. Between us we have four wives, whom we share."

  "You share?"

  "Of course. Why not? It keeps us safe from the destructive effects of possessiveness or envy. It ensures brotherly loyalty and makes us all fathers to the same brood."

  She stared. "And the women don't protest?"

  "Why would they? They get seven husbands instead of one. They are protected seven times over and loved seven times over. And satisfied seven times over."

  She couldn't think of a solitary word to utter.

  "Our father expects each of us to bring a woman home to breed. And I," he unfolded his arms and pointed one suddenly menacing finger at her, "choose you."

  Cedney had never been so horrified by anything in her life. She rolled over in haste and almost fell to the floor on the far side of the bed. Somehow she landed on her feet and tugged the fleece with her, wrapping it swiftly around her naked body. "I'm afraid I must disappoint you. I will never be any man's wife." She certainly would never be a wife to seven men. Seven men.

  He crooked that finger and beckoned her closer. "Come here, woman."

  Instead she backed away. "You have had your sport. Now you must leave, d'Anzeray." When she spoke the name on her own tongue it sounded familiar. It was possible she'd heard tales of these men. Perhaps stories shared around a campfire when the ale flowed. Stories too outrageous to be believed.

  "I am not leaving without you," he said firmly, unblinking.

  "Oh yes, you are."

  "For the last time, wench, come hither."

  "I will not. You, d'Anzeray, will go."

  It did not escape her notice that his cock was beginning to rise up again, already half erect. The man was insatiable.

  "And do not molest any more of my people on your way out."

  Chapter Ten

  The woman, he thought lustily, was possibly the most beautiful female he'd ever looked upon. Indeed, the most beautiful creature. Her skin gleamed like those pearls in the box she had shown him. Her eyes were the most extraordinary shade of blue, ever changing. At that moment they held a warm tint he'd only ever witnessed in the Mediterranean sea. She tasted like wine, honey and cream. Some of his favorite things.

  And when she refused to obey him, he grew hot with an even greater desire to claim her as his own. His father would say it wasn't good to feel this possessive, but that was a fleeting thought, soon squashed beneath other, happier considerations.

  She liked fucking. That much was damned obvious. Bloody woman went at it keenly indeed for a beginner.

  She liked him or he would not be there in her private chamber, invited to share her dark secret. That too was evident.

  He wanted her. Therefore he'd have her.

  Dom began moving around the bed toward Cedney, but she leapt over it and backed up to the door of the chamber, still clutching the fleece around her.


  "Get out before I shout for the guards," she hissed.

  He stopped and held out his arms, chuckling dourly. "What will you tell them? That I raped you? My lord?"

  She lifted her chin. "It is possible for a man to be taken against his will, just as it is for a woman. I could have you hanged."

  "And I could tell them all the truth about their lord."

  She blinked, drew a quick breath. Her fingers tightened around the fleece. "You won't."

  "Won't I?" Dom had never seen her look this vulnerable. Now he saw beneath her hardened shell and just when he could have moved in, using it to his advantage, it made him take pity. It made him hesitate. Again his father would laugh at him for this little wrinkle of kindness and compassion.

  She must have seen it too, must have known he would not harm her.

  "You may have that box of gold and pearls," she said softly. "In return for your discretion, of course. I know you are not Lady Rosamund's uncle and no doubt your motives in bringing her here were not innocent, but I am willing to overlook that. I don't know how you came to possess that scroll or Redbeard's crest, and I don't want to know. It is best that you leave now and there will be no questions asked."

  Slowly he scratched an itch on his chest and then drew his long fingers across the thin layer of perspiration that coated the ridges of his chest. All the way down to his cock.

  Her gaze followed the gesture and she licked her lips.

  "Perhaps I don't need to leave until morning," he suggested, stroking his growing organ.

  Gradually her eyes shadowed, their path tracking back upward to his face. "Do you think to persuade me with these arts, d'Anzeray?"

  He grinned. "It had occurred to me that I might try."

  * * * *

  Thus the angry mood in the chamber was transformed again. Cedney wanted to keep her distance, but she could not. There was an awkward charm to the man, something mysterious, mischievous. In those moments earlier when she lay in his strong arms she was content as she had never been, but a part of her had suffered tremendous guilt, remembering how she once promised her father never to give in, never to forget that she was his "son" and heir. To be a woman meant submitting to weakness. Or so he had taught her.

  But Cedney had not felt weakened by her desires. In truth, when Dominigo looked at her that way she felt a new kind of power. It lightened her spirit and made her heart's rhythm quicken until she soared. Never had she known this sensation before, even when racing her horse, flying over the ground and aiming her arrow for the kill. Lying in his arms had felt like...coming home after a long day's struggle, after a battle.

  Could she risk anything more with him? Could they spend a night together without raising suspicion? Without endangering her position there?

  The answer came immediately. A resounding "no".

  There was a rumble of noise in the passage outside, rapid steps and the clanking of metal. A fist banged hard against the door at her back.

  "My Lord Bloodwynne, there is trouble! Norman soldiers are at the gate."

  Across the room, Dominigo's expression hardened again, his jaw squared, as if he was ready to protect her from whatever might come. She shook her head at him. As if she needed his protection! She'd managed seven years as her own man. "I will come at once," she shouted through the door. "What is their business here?"

  "It is Rufus Barberousse, my lord, found murdered in Foxhall market. And we can find no sign of the man who claimed to be him. We have closed the gates so he will not escape."

  Cedney dropped her fleece and reached for the discarded breeches. The footsteps retreated again and there were more, distant shouts. Dominigo also dressed but with less speed. He did not appear too worried about this discovery.

  "They will kill you if you are found," she whispered, fastening her belt. "Barberousse has many powerful friends."

  "Had," the man corrected, yawning lazily.

  Again she shook her head. "What happened?"

  Dominigo scratched the dark bristles of his cheek. "We had a disagreement, he and I. In a tavern in the town. He did not know enough to concede defeat and followed me into an alley, intent on continuing the argument, but I was in no mood for it."

  "So you murdered him."

  "He came at me with a sword. What else was I to do?"

  She tossed him his stolen cape. "Then you took his place to escort Rosemund."

  "When I read the scroll he carried, I thought she might earn me a handy dowry or a ransom purse." He grinned wryly. "Once I met the lady I decided neither was worth the inconvenience of her company."

  "And now you have brought this trouble to my gate." Cedney ran to her window and looked out on the yard where soldiers had gathered, including some she did not recognize. They must have tracked Redbeard's murderer across the marshes with their hounds, although it was no easy thing to do. A man could hide in those fog-shrouded wet fields for months if he knew his way around. "Pay heed, d'Anzeray, there is only one route out of the manor now. You'll have to hide under the bed until I am rid of the guards in the hall," she whispered, "and then I'll come back and show you the way."

  "I've no need to hide. I'll fight my way out."

  It occurred to her that this was not hollow boasting; the man really thought he could take on so many soldiers at once. But she did not want him dead, or badly wounded. The fool! She should not care. She should let the man do as he pleased. Another man would not try to stop him.

  "I'll fight my way out," he repeated, adding smoothly, "and you're coming with me."

  "I am not! My place is here."

  "Your place is with me, at my side and in my bed."

  "Just get under my bed, d'Anzeray, and stay there until I fetch you."

  Frowning, he stood before her, bare-chested, and prepared to argue again.

  She swiftly drew her sword from where it hung by the wall. The blade gleamed in that cool afternoon light as she raised the point to his chin. He glanced slyly at his own weapon where it lay across a chair, three or four steps from where he stood.

  "You can try, d'Anzeray, but I will not hesitate to use my sword."

  "Even on your lover? The man who claimed your maidenhead?"

  Cedney kept the point of her weapon trained on his throat. "I was not in my right mind. Already I regret giving you so much."

  His eyes darkened with grey anger. His jaw twitched.

  "Do you think I cannot fuck and forget?" she demanded. "Just as you have done many times, no doubt."

  Still he was silent, although she suspected it cost him a heavy fee to remain so. Unless he was thinking again. God Forbid. A man who thought so much was worse than a woman who talked too much.

  "But I suppose I must thank you for the lesson, d'Anzeray," she added coolly. "It was... educational."

  "It was more than that," he replied at last. "Much more."

  "For you perhaps. Not for me."

  "You pretend it was not enjoyable?"

  "Was it meant to be? I thought you were merely interested in your own pleasure. Like all men."

  Oh, the fury flamed now inside, turning his eyes to cold, hard iron.

  "Get under the bed and wait," she snapped.

  Still he hesitated, muscles flexing, trying to draw her eye to that powerful splendor no doubt, she mused.

  "It must be hard for you to obey a woman's command," she added drily. "But try. Not only for your sake, but for mine this time."

  Instinctively Cedney knew that would silence him. It did.

  * * * *

  As he lay under her bed in the dark and listened to retreating steps, Dom considered the strangeness of this day and of the woman who had just left him. She would not let him fight, but thought he could sneak away like a coward. Amusing. Well, he'd let her think that for now, but he was not leaving without her.

  He thought of what she'd told him of her plans for this marriage to Rosamund. She really imagined it possible to keep up her act, to trick her bride in the bedchamber. To get that unknowing wif
e pregnant and claim the child as a Bloodwynne. He smiled in the dark. Perhaps she could succeed. She was determined, stubborn, strong, fearless, unique.

  Dom could not possibly leave her behind, could he? If he found a horse he liked and valued this much, he'd definitely steal it.

  When she returned to show him the hidden tunnel that her father had built many years before, he said nothing to her about his plans, but he kissed her— hungrily, with a passion he hoped would linger in her memories and with no mention of their argument. And then he left, slithering out on his belly through the cold dark ground.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cedney invited the soldiers to search her manor and then offered them supper. The longer she kept them occupied, the more distance Dominigo could travel before they were on his scent again. But they would not stay long. Having overturned every chair and looked behind every tapestry they were ready to move on. Only the interference of Lady Rosamund's nurse as she got "accidentally" in the way of their horses, kept them from being too close behind him.

  Lady Rosamund covered her own hide by declaring angrily that she too was tricked.

  "I never met Uncle Rufus," she'd muttered haughtily. "How could I have known that man was an imposter? I had no choice but to go with him since I was abandoned by everyone else."

  Her elderly nurse shot her a dark look but remained silent on the matter.

  The Norman Sheriff at Foxhall had been assured by witnesses of the tavern scuffle, that the murderer of Rufus Barberousse was none other than a d'Anzeray. They just did not know which of the infamous brothers was to blame.

  From the soldiers who came there to hunt for him, Cedney heard all about that family of mercenaries. The details the man himself had lacked in telling were now filled in and expanded upon. Their father, Guillaume, had come to England and fought for King William of Normandy at Hastings, but he was something of a rogue who went his own way and fought for whomever paid enough. Now he had settled with his sons in the south of the new-conquered land, and it was said that they struck such fear in the hearts of their fellow men that they did much as they pleased. She heard also about the sharing of wives— women stolen away from other men. The d'Anzeray were a fierce bunch, bloodthirsty and without conscience. Some even went so far as to claim they were descended from the daughter of Satan.