Kiss Across Kingdoms

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Sydney hesitated. She’d had to work hard to earn the garments she was wearing. It was only a momentary hesitation. She rested the hilt of the sword against her stomach and wound the long ends of the mantle from about her shoulders and took it over to Alex and held it out.

  “Why are you carrying your sword like that?” he asked her curiously.

  “I’m here to see you do your job,” she told him. She glanced at Alfwynn on the table. “If she dies, so do you.”

  Wulfstan smiled. “Sunngifu is the Lady’s personal guard. You’d best be warned.”

  Alex wadded the mantle in his hands, studying her. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. “I believe I would find the promise of a kiss a better inducement.”

  Wulfstan’s smile broadened and one of the soldiers standing by the door guffawed quietly.

  Sydney cast about for a response, surprise stealing every sharp retort she could think of. Was Alex playing a role, still? Or was this Alex as she knew him? What was he doing?

  He had already turned back to bend over Alfwynn. He pressed the folded mantle against her shoulder, right next to the bolt. With his other hand he gripped the shaft of the bolt.

  “Hold her still,” he ordered to no one in particular. Wulfstan pushed the bench on the other side of the table out of the way and pressed down on Alfwynn’s other shoulder.

  Alex looked at Sydney. “You hold her feet. I don’t want her kicking out and shifting the bolt as I pull it.”

  Sydney swallowed. No, she didn’t want that either. Alfwynn had become a friend over the last few days. Only what was supposed to happen? Her lack of knowledge about how this moment in history was supposed to go was building her fear. What if they got it wrong? Alex wouldn’t know this time and place any better than Sydney did.

  She put her sword back in her belt, then took hold of Alfwynn’s ankles and held her steady and nodded.

  Alex glanced at Alfwynn. “This will hurt,” he warned her. He began to pull on the shaft, with steady pressure that made his fingers whiten and his jaw clench. Nothing seemed to happen, except that Alfwynn began to writhe—or try to. Between the three of them, they kept her rocking to a minimum, yet they could do nothing about her groans and soft cries.

  Then the flesh around the bolt gave out a peculiar sucking sound and the bolt moved. Alex took a fresh grip on it and pulled again. This time, the bolt slowly withdrew, the sharp and smooth head emerging wet and dark with blood.

  Immediately, Alex pressed the padded mantle over the wound and held it down. It looked like he was putting a lot of weight on his hands, too. “Where is my chest?” he demanded, again speaking to no one in particular.

  “On its way,” Wulfstan said quietly.

  Alex looked down at Alfwynn. “She has passed out. Good. That will make this easier. By chance, is there any boiled water to be had?”

  “Boiled water? There is fresh spring water,” Wulfstan said.

  “That will have to do. A bowl of it and more clean cloth.”

  Wulfstan jerked his chin at the soldier standing guard at the door and he hurried away.

  The door was pushed open once more and a soldier came in carrying a small chest that looked heavy.

  “Put it here,” Alex said shortly, pointing to the table next to Alfwynn’s hip.

  Sydney moved around the table to stand by Alfwynn’s head. “Can I help?” she asked softly. “I’ve had a little experience with wounds.”

  Which was not exactly true. She had only watched Veris and Alex patching wounds and stitching deeper ones. She did understand modern medicine, though, including the importance of sterility, which were concepts far beyond Wulfstan’s comprehension.

  “Yes, press down here,” Alex told her, taking her hand and placing it under his. “It will help stop the bleeding.”

  She glanced around the room. There were still two soldiers, sitting at the other end of the room beyond the second fire pit. Their swords were laying on the tabletop, as if they intended to pick them up at any second. It was not safe to speak freely yet.

  Alex delved into the chest, removing little clay pots with rag stoppers and placing them on the table. He withdrew a roll of cloth and unwound it. Woven into the threads of the cloth were a number of needles, each with a length of thread wound around them.

  They weren’t surgical sutures, although they did the same thing.

  “Will she live?” Sydney asked quietly.

  “Of course,” he said, keeping his voice down. He tore Alfwynn’s dress open, and folded the flap down over her breast to maintain her modesty. The rest of the dress he pulled away from her shoulder to expose the wound. “If one must be shot with a bolt, the shoulder is the best place to take it, especially just under the collarbone like this. No major organs and lots of meat to absorb the injury.”

  He wiped at the big hole in Alfwynn’s shoulder, that seeped blood as he touched it.

  Sydney shuddered.

  Alex smiled. His eyes danced with amusement. “I believe you might have to forego your vow to kill me once this is over.” Then he bent to his work once more, the needle in his hand.

  Sydney looked away. Wounds and injuries were something she had come across often in her work as a policewoman, although she had never been comfortable with watching the repair of them.

  If Alfwynn lived, then these games that Alex had proposed would go ahead. Sydney had no doubt that Aethelfreda would keep her word. She had been intrigued by the idea.

  That meant that soon, the Powys army would be camped outside the gates. She would get to see Rafe once more. Things were coming together. Soon, they might be able to jump back home.

  It was a happy thought that she kept in the forefront of her mind as Alex worked.

  Soon.

  * * * * *

  Once Alfwynn was carried to Aethelfreda’s own bed and made comfortable by the women, Alex wrote a message on a strip of parchment and a messenger was sent for. Alex gave him the sealed roll. “This must be given into the hands of the King’s scribe, Rhys,” he told him, “and only the scribe.”

  The messenger nodded and took the scroll and hurried away, as Wulfstan poured a cup of wine and held it out to Alex.

  “No, thank you,” Alex said. “I must clear my things from the table before the evening meal.” He began to pack the tools and medicines away.

  “If you are concerned about whose hands your message falls into, then what you say about division among Llewelyn’s captains must be true,” Wulfstan observed. He drank the wine himself.

  “I have no reason to lie,” Alex pointed out.

  “Powys fighters are a passionate breed,” Wulfstan said. “Do you really believe that a simple contest will be enough to assuage their wounded feelings?”

  “I have seen such contests work to vent the ill feelings of an entire city,” Alex said.

  “You are a man of peace. Where would you have seen such things?”

  “In the east, which is where I also learned their advanced medicine.”

  “Aethelfreda will be grateful for that knowledge,” Wulfstan replied. “A room will be found for you and your tools, where you can wait until the messenger returns. Although I warn you that the townspeople will have heard by now of your medical skills. You will have a steady stream of customers while you wait.”

  “I am accustomed to that,” Alex said and picked up his chest.

  Wulfstan beckoned the soldiers at the far end of the room with his hand and gave them instructions to take Alex to a house somewhere in the burh. The soldiers were all well-armed and Alex knew they would stay outside the house while he was in it. The Lady of Mercia might be grateful for his services, but she was also cautious.

  The house was one of the smaller ones sited near the big house on the town square. It was empty of all furnishings, except for a pad upon the sleeping shelf and a stool in the corner.

  He put his chest on the stool and looked out the open window. The guards were outside, as he expected.

  * * * * *

&n
bsp; Sydney paid her single coin to one of the soldiers idly around the entrance to the big house and he told her which house the physician had been taken to.

  She was not the first to arrive there, even though she had only delayed long enough to remove her mail jerkin and other additional layers before looking for him. As she arrived at the house, a woman with a lined face and simple dress stepped out of the house with one of Alex’s little pots in her hand.

  The three men guarding the door to the house straightened up as she approached.

  “I believe the physician is here?” she asked. She touched her arm, where the giant from Powys had sliced it. “I would have him look at this.”

  One of them nodded and stood aside.

  She tapped on the door then pushed it open and stepped inside.

  The single-room house was empty of almost everything except a stool in one corner, upon which sat Alex’s medical chest. The doors of the sleeping shelf were open, and the straw mattress had been pulled aside. A handful of the pots of salve were sitting on the edge of the shelf at one end.

  Alex looked up as she shut the door. His face shifted, as a dozen different expressions seemed to cross it. Then he crossed the room swiftly. Too swiftly.

  “My arm—” she began. His lips halted the rest of her sentence. Alex pulled her around and pressed her up against the wall, kissing her. His weight was against her, holding her still, as his mouth ravaged hers. His hands roamed everywhere, almost as if he was exploring every inch of her to ensure she really was there.

  “Alex,” she breathed when his mouth lifted briefly from hers.

  “Shh…” he warned, his voice bodiless. He kissed her again then breathed into her ear. “These walls are far too thin.” He trailed his lips down her throat and paused over her pulse. He licked her flesh and she shuddered.

  She had missed him. Both of them. Not just because she had spent the last six years living with them and loved them both, but because she had also missed their near-constant attention. When she was at home, an hour rarely went by when either Rafe or Alex did not pull her up against them and kiss her thoroughly. Sometimes it was a simple caress as she passed by.

  Any one of those caresses or kisses could turn into a heated moment where they would ease her clothing aside and their mouths and hands would stroke her flesh until she was shuddering just as she was now. Sometimes they would bring her to orgasm right there, wherever they happened to have come upon her.

  On other occasions and depending on where they were in the house, she would be bent over or laid down or even pressed up against a wall as she was now, and fucked until she came. Often, what one of them started, the other would help end. The sounds and scents of her arousal would draw the other like a fly to honey. And sometimes the two of them would seek her out together and would seduce her into a quivering mess.

  She had missed those daily attentions. She had missed the unbelievably good sex she had grown used to. Now Alex was kissing her again, with the same heated intention driving his mouth and his hands.

  Her body leapt to readiness in the space of a few heartbeats. Her channel grew slick and her nipples taut. She could barely breathe around the aching need that was squeezing her chest.

  Alex didn’t linger. Nor did he spare her. The only item of clothing he removed was her gunna, with the excess folds and length and no openings. It would be too dangerous to remove more. There were guards just outside the door who might step inside at any moment and anyone might come for medical assistance.

  He paused as he dropped the wool garment to the floor at his feet and swayed back to look at her length. She wore the leather leggings and the undershirt, which was thin enough to outline her breasts and hard nipples as thoroughly as a wet tee shirt. All the other layers she had removed.

  That left her pussy bare to his gaze.

  He gave her a heated look. He didn’t speak.

  Outside, one of the guards coughed. Another stirred and murmured something. The sounds were clear, as if the guards were standing right next to them. It was a warning that any sounds they made would be just as clear and loud.

  Alex stroked her breast through the fabric of the shirt. The linen was so fine that she could feel almost every stroke and the fibers transmitted the stroking to her nipple, making it tingle.

  Then he bent and sucked her nipple into his mouth, right through the linen. He teased and nipped at it and Sydney let her head roll back against the wall as the delightful sensations he was creating speared straight down to her clit, making it bloom and throb.

  She grabbed his other hand and pushed it between her thighs. He cupped her pussy, stroking her lightly. Teasing.

  Sydney began to shake with the intensity of her need. She desperately wanted to be fucked as hard as possible, as quickly as possible and as thoroughly as possible. She knew how well Alex could do that and it had been too long since he had.

  He gripped her waist and lifted her and she sighed. He was going to take her right here.

  Instead, he moved across the floor, carrying her. She clung to him, her puzzlement distant and faded under the onslaught of excitement. He had something planned. He always had plans for how he would bring her to the most powerful orgasms she had ever experienced. It was his personal delight to leave her mindless and weak.

  He rested her ass upon the edge of the sleeping shelf, which almost at the perfect height for what he must have in mind. He shoved the linen shirt up, baring her breasts, and took the other one in his mouth.

  Sydney leaned back, her arms barely holding her up, as Alex’s hair brushed across her chest as he worked at teasing the tip of her breast. Then his lips moved down, across her stomach, making the muscles quiver and her belly clamp with anticipation.

  He pushed her legs aside almost impatiently. His mouth closed over her mound and his tongue pushed inside the folds, finding her clit and probing with strokes that were both soft and firm.

  Sydney swallowed the moan that formed, gritting her teeth against any more sounds. She started to shake as her climax built. Watching his head move between her thighs, and his lips against her was an erotic goad that enhanced what his tongue was doing.

  Then his fingers pushed inside her, deep and hard and Sydney’s climax leapt and took her, with a storm of hot, rushing waves of pleasure. She shuddered through it, barely holding in any sound. She could feel her muscles gripping around his fingers and squeezing.

  As the last of the waves of the orgasm passed, Alex straightened, lifted the hem of his tunic and pushed up against her. His cock slid into her with no resistance at all and she drew in a trembling lungful of air, breathing through the shock and pleasure of having him inside her.

  Alex thrust into her again. Because she was anchored on the edge of the platform instead of a soft, forgiving mattress, he could reach deeper inside her and thrust faster and harder.

  He watched her as he moved, the tendons in his neck straining with the effort of his strokes. Sydney tried to keep her gaze locked on his, while the haziness of her rebuilding climax made her vision swim. She closed her eyes and let the sensations enfold her. His cock was heated, thick and hard, separating her pussy walls and stroking them. His pelvis was pressing against her mound, kissing her clit with each thrust.

  He lifted her knees and held them up, changing the angle of his cock inside her, deepening his reach. She moaned again, letting it out as a soft exhalation.

  The rate of his thrusting increased and the strokes shortened. The tiny crease between his brows formed, that always told her when Alex was losing the fine control he usually exercised, that his climax was taking him.

  He slammed into her one last time and grew still. She could feel his cock jerking as he came. His jaw was iron hard, as he fought not to groan.

  Then he relaxed and let her knees go and leaned against her, his head touching hers. He cupped her face and kissed her softly. He was breathing hard.

  Sydney held him against her and heard and felt the sound of his heart beatin
g. This was the moment when she really understood his love for her and Rafe. This moment, when he felt the most human and the most vulnerable. That was why he sought to repeat it so often.

  Then, gently, he untangled himself from her legs and her body. He picked up the gunna where he had dropped it and held it out to her.

  “Let me see your arm before you put it back on,” he said softly.

  Surprised, she pushed the sleeve of the undershirt up her arm and turned her shoulder so that he could see the neat bandage about her arm. He untied it and turned her arm this way and that, looking at the wound. It was barely a wound anymore. The raw edges had scabbed over and the scab itself looked thin and flaky.

  “Veris’ stitches are usually far less neat that this. I must have intimidated him,” Alex murmured, still almost whispering.

  “There are stitches?”

  “You can’t see them now, but they are holding the edges together. You’re also being pumped full of antibiotics. You’re healing well.”

  She looked down at the wound curiously. It was the first time she had closely examined it. “You’re right. It hasn’t bothered me since the first night it happened. I don’t even feel it anymore.”

  He touched the gunna. “Put this back on. Someone might come in at any moment.”

  He helped her stand back on the floor and put the woolen garment back on. It dropped down around her calves, hiding the lack of layers beneath. He pushed his hand between the split front and she felt his fingers rest against the bare flesh of her upper thigh. He smiled. “I will remember this.”

  “And now?” she asked, trying to speak as quietly as him.

  “Now we go about the lives we have inherited here and await the outcome of the games.” he said. “Edward must live.”

  Startled, she let him lead her to the door and open it for her with a courtly bow. He spoke more loudly about leaving off the bandage and letting her wound heal with natural air around it, as the guards looked over their shoulders. There were five people standing waiting before the guards and they all looked around hopefully as the door opened.