by Carm Nicosi
As Brant rose from his chair, she could see the clear proof of his arousal, through the bath sheet, still wrapped around his waist. He reached for her wrist, before turning to pull her back toward the bed, while she dragged her feet, pulling against him, slightly. At the edge of the bed, he pulled her against him for a long kiss, before pressing her down on her back. When she did not resist, Brant removed her shoes, and stockings. Then positioning himself between her feet, began running his hands over her legs, as he pushed the chemise up her body.
"Please stop," she pleaded, as she felt his hand brushing lightly over the inside of her thighs, pressing her legs apart. Once again, he asked if she was refusing, though he knew it would not matter if she did.
"Nay," she whispered, knowing it would not matter if she did refuse. He had every right to force her.
Brant continued to use his hands, to work the chemise up her body, while his lips followed behind them, and his body pressed her legs apart. Alisa felt him grasp her wrists with one hand, after removing her last garment over her head, as he began to enter her body. His other hand, firmly grasped the back of her head, holding it immobile, while he covered her mouth with his, kissing her as he quickly plunged into her body. She cried out into his kiss, and struggled to pull her hands free, as a burning ache spread between her thighs. Brant held his body still, keeping her helplessly pinned under his greater size, until the pain seemed to ease, and she gave up her futile struggle. As he began to move inside of her, he released his grasp that had held her head immobile. She turned her head to the side, closing her eyes, while she waited for him to finish.
Alisa lay still, with her hands raised over her head, right where they were, when he released them. She was trying not to think about the act that had just been committed on her body. His kisses, and caresses, had been nice, creating a warm, relaxing feeling in her body, so she had passively let him continue, until he entered her body. That had hurt at first. Then it was just uncomfortable, and a little appalling, to have him panting, and sweating on her. She wanted it to stop, but he had her pinned helplessly under him. So she had closed her eyes, and tried to think of something else, as he had his way with her. She did not want to think about it. Unfortunately, he was still on top of her, pinning her body to the bed. Worse yet, she could still feel him inside of her a little bit, though he was soft now. Why didn't he just get off her? How long had he lay there on top of her? It seemed like a really long time.
Alisa felt Brant place several light kisses along the side of her neck. He raised himself up on an elbow, and she inwardly sighed, relieved that he was finally going to let her go. He gently turned her face toward him, placing a light kiss on her lips, before running the tip of his tongue across them. She passively tolerated more light kisses and caresses, thinking those were nice, as she waited for him to move off her. He slowly ran a finger down her cheek, tracing the path of her tears. Then, she felt that soft part of his flesh that was still inside of her, getting firmer.
Looking at him in alarm, she whispered, "No, not again."
"Yes, again," Brant said in a soft soothing tone. "I will not hurt you this time."
He withdrew slightly, then pushed back inside of her a couple of times.
"See? That does not hurt does it?" he asked.
He repeated the slow movements in, and out, of her body, while repeating the question, until she shook her head in the negative.
"No, I am not hurting you," Brant whispered, continuing his slow pace. Then, he began saying, "Just relax. It feels good to have me inside of you, doesn't it, Alisa? Think about it."
Brant continued to repeat that, until she decided he did feel good. Then, he felt really good as her muscles tensed, as if to grab him, and hold him inside her, while spasms of pleasure engulfed her body. Alisa clung to him moaning in reaction, as she heard him moan, his passion spent, before collapsing on her body, again.
This time when his breathing slowed, he rolled off of her, onto his back, and pulled her against his side. Alisa for her part, just let him position her head on his shoulder, and her hand on his chest, under his hand. Her shocked mind, seemed to be incapable of focusing on anything.
Chapter 7
Robert dismounted from his destry, in front of the stairs to the hall, in answer to the summons from Richard, and Isabel. He had made a bargain with them, for what he desired most in the world, in exchange for helping them take his oldest friend captive. That had been over two months ago. Brant was still being held here, in the dungeon. Robert hoped he could trust them, he certainly could not risk crossing them. When he had been here before, there always seemed to be riders coming, and going, with messages that verified, that they had spies everywhere. Robert observed two such riders approaching the open gate, and wondered what news they brought, as he turned to enter the hall.
Inside, Robert could see Richard was near the hearth, with a tankard, so he joined him there. A serf brought him a tankard as he sat down.
Richard offered the greeting, “Good afternoon, Robert. I trust you and Kate have been well, these past few weeks.”
“Aye, Kate makes me very happy. She asked that I convey her regards,” Robert answered.
He noticed that Isabel sat in a high-backed chair across from Richard. She was as always, wearing a mantle wrapped around her shoulders, and over her head. While her eyes, mouth, and clear skin, left him thinking she was likely pretty, he questioned if the ever present mantle, covered some terrible defect. He had seen her on at least a dozen occasions, yet, he did not even know what color her hair was. Though, the Lady certainly possessed an extremely shapely figure.
The messengers entered, and approached them to report that Lady Ann was settling in nicely at her dower property. The child was doing somewhat better, but was still suffering occasional nightmares. Ann was staying close, to reassure her she was safe, and all was well. Robert knew that Lady Ann was Isabel’s mother, but he wondered about this nameless child, they frequently mentioned.
Isabel thanked the men for the news. Then she directed them to the kitchen, for a meal and tankard.
Once they had gone, she said, “Now that that is settled, all that remains is the really difficult business.” Both men looked at her quizzically, until she continued, “Releasing my husband from his jail. I know knights practice frequently, to keep their skills sharp. It would be dangerous to just turn him loose, without being sure, he can defend himself.”
“If we are to turn him loose, and I suppose we must, where are we to hide you from him?” Richard questioned. “This was all started in large part, to keep Avery from killing you. Now your biggest threat, may just be your husband.”
“I will be staying here. He will not kill me,” Isabel stated.
Both men looked at each other dubiously, before Richard argued, “Unless you know something I do not, I think your safety is of grave concern. He is going to be furious.”
“I did not say he was not going to be angry. I said he would not kill me,” Isabel replied. “When he learns the whole truth, he is going to be as mad as a wild boar. I may wish, he would just kill me. Only time will tell, if he will forgive me.”
"What do you mean by, the whole truth?" Richard asked.
"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Isabel answered, waving the matter off.
Once again, Isabel's hand was massaging her temple, as if she were under some great stress. As the two men’s eyes met, Robert was certain that she, once again, had information that neither one of them was aware of. That information, would bolster her to stay, and face her husband’s wrath. Robert had always considered his friend, Brant, the most dangerous person he knew. However, now he found himself wondering, if Brant was up to the challenge, of this small mysterious woman, he had been forced to wed.
Brant sat drinking a tankard of ale, wondering how long he had been locked up, in this wretched cell. It had been many weeks, probably months, during which he had watched for any chance, to attempt an escape. His jailors always made sure he w
as securely locked in, never letting their guard down, for a moment. So he had only brief conversations daily with the guard, or serfs. Every few days, the old woman had brought the serf Alisa to him, usually for a few hours, occasionally much longer. That was the only thing, that seemed to be keeping him from going mad. Brant never seemed to get tired of her shapely little body. He smiled, as he thought about how receptive she had been to his instruction, in ways to drive a man crazy with desire. If he ever got out of here, he thought he would like to take her with him. Or maybe he just felt that way, because she was the only woman he had access to, in here. No, that was not true. Once, the old woman had asked if he would like a different girl, but he knew he did not.
On his properties, he had a right to bed any unmarried maid he desired, as the Lord’s due. Yet, he could not recall another maid, who had ever been quite as entertaining, as Alisa. Although, beyond her name and every inch of her body, Brant knew next to nothing about the girl.
Glancing around his prison, Brant thought again, about the elaborate way his incarceration was set up. He had two good size rooms here. In the dungeon at his Castle, there were six very small cells. Prisoners were given one meal a day, and rarely allowed any water to wash with, or clean clothes. No wine or women were allowed in. His captors, supplied him with food fit for the Lord's table, wine and ale, baths and clean clothing, and of course Alisa. While they had made sure he was not going anywhere, they also made sure he was not suffering. Brant kept reminding himself of this, as proof that he would be released, at some time.
Brant's musings where interrupted when Robert entered, caring two tankards, one of which he passed through into the cell.
"Good afternoon, mon ami," Robert greeted. "I trust you are managing. Have a drink with me, to celebrate my wedding. I am sorry you could not be there."
"You got married?" Brant asked.
"Aye, three weeks ago, Lady Katherine and I, were wed. I have also been busy getting acquainted with my newly acquired Castle, and lands, formerly Avery's Castle, and Kate's dower lands," Robert informed his friend. "I was truly a desperate man a couple of months ago, with it likely, the Lady would be betrothed to someone else. You cannot know, what a huge relief it was, when Richard approached me, with an opportunity to gain his consent, to wed his daughter."
"Richard is Katherine's father? So I end up in a cell, and you get the Lady?" Brant asked.
He picked up the tankard, and took a big draught, glaring at his friend.
"Aye, but only a little longer," Robert confirmed. "Your hosts have decried, that after two months of lazing around, you are likely a little rusty. Therefore, you need to be let out in the courtyard, for some jousting practice. Although, they also have made sure, there are no weapons sharp enough for you to hurt anyone, trying to exit early."
As Robert was speaking, a serf, and Brant's squire entered, carrying a shield and armor, that Brant recognized as his own. He was relieved, to see that the youth had not been injured.
After demanding assurances that Brant would not attempt to escape, he was let out of his cell, for the first time since his wedding night. His squire assisted him in donning his armor, which he noted, seemed heavier than he remembered. Outside of the building, was a courtyard, of maybe thirty by thirty feet, surrounded by a high stone wall, with a wooden gate. There were also six very large men, several of whom he recognized from his wedding night. Brant was first allowed to practice with his squire, who apparently had not had much exercise recently, either, and tired in a very short time. Then the knight Justin stepped in, to trade parry’s with the practice swords. Brant observed that he was quite good with a sword, probably better than Brant had ever been. With the heavy blows, from Justin’s sword, it was not long, before Brant realized his forced inactivity had seriously weakened him. He put down the sword, and walked to a bench to sit down.
As Robert sat down on the bench with him, Brant said, “It appears Richard was right about me needing practice.”
“Actually, it was Isabel, who thought you might need practice. She does not seem to want anything to happen to you,” Robert said. “Though sometimes I wonder, if she is not gaming us all.”
While she was the last thing Brant wanted to think about, since he was going to have to deal with her sometime, the more he knew the better.
“How so?” Brant asked.
“When Richard approached me for help, and mentioned that the brains behind the plan, was a one and six maid, it seemed like a lark. I get Kate, and you get stuck with some baggage, until she is one and eight,” Robert said, with a concerned look.
"Baggage?" Brant asked. "That is how you saw it? I think you forgot, powerful friends. Do you know why someone is determined to protect her?"
"I have no idea," Robert said. “I was told why did not matter. It was important to protect both of you. Richard alluded to there being some vague threat, to both of you. But the longer this goes on, the more I wonder, if I did not make a deal with the devil. Several times, messengers have arrived with word that made no sense to me. When I asked Richard what that was about, he simply told me I knew all, I needed to know. I am sure Richard and Isabel, knew what the message meant. Just this morning, Richard asked where she wanted to go, to hide out from you. She said she did not intend to hide from you, though when you learn the whole truth, you are likely to be madder than a wild boar. It appears that Richard, and Isabel, have been doing things that I was not a part of. Furthermore, Isabel seems to have secrets, even from Richard.”
When Robert fell silent, and it appeared no further information was forthcoming, Brant rose, and asked if he would like to go a round with the swords.
For the next couple of weeks, Brant was let out into the courtyard to practice, with his weapons. By that time, his armor and sword, no longer felt heavy. In between, he spent time holding his shield, and maneuvering a practice sword, he had been allowed to take into his jail cell. Richard had been in to speak with him several times, about a treaty with Avery, which Brant must honor. He would also be expected, to see to the safety of his wife, until she was one and eight, unless the situation changed. He did not elaborate, on what he thought might change. Which left Brant convinced that he was still not being told the whole story.
Furthermore, as Richard had acted on authority of the Crown, Brant would not pursue revenge against them, did he wish to remain outside of a cell. Brant decided he no longer wished to kill Robert anyway, although he did desire, to get even with him, somehow.
However, Richard's assertion that Isabel had the protection of the Crown, intrigued Brant. Their sires, Eric and Edmund, had been what was sometimes called Marcher Lords. They both ruled their vast holdings, with autonomy. Brant had sworn loyalty, and paid feity to the King, and the King left him alone. His war with Avery did not appear to warrant Royal involvement. If it did, why not just kill Avery? What was Brant not being told?
The morning of his last day of being held prisoner, Brant found himself thinking of the night before. The old woman had brought Alisa to him. He did so enjoy getting her soft little body under his, particularly when he could hold back, when she reached her climax. From then on, she was completely in his control, moaning or whispering “yes,” to encourage him to continue. And if he stopped, begging with her eyes, or a whispered “please,” until he started moving, again. It was so satisfying to have her moan her approval, like an animal in the throws of passion, until he took her over the edge, again. Never before had Brant experienced such lust, where the only thing that mattered at the time, was their bodies moving together.
Before she left last night, Alisa had kissed him gently, and whispered, “Rest well, mi amor.”
He was not sure what that meant, but it sounded like an endearment. Then, Robert appeared at the barred door, bringing Brant back to the present.
“The lookout has sent the signal that your men-at-arms are approaching. They should be here within the half hour, so you need to get ready,” Robert said, as he unlocked the cell door.
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br /> Brant rose slowly, and asked, “They are actually, just going to let me go?”
“Well, your weapons are in the hall, as is the Lady Isabel, who wishes to speak to you,” Robert informed him. “However, your men were sent for. They know you are here,” he paused, and laughed, before finishing, “with your wife.”
Two serfs assisted Brant in donning his maul, before going to carry out his trunk, and shield. Then, Robert waved his arm, indicating that Brant should move toward the door.
“You go first, so I know you are not going to club me over the head,” Robert said.
“So they kidnapped me, and forced me to wed some child. Held me in a dungeon for nearly three months, and now, they are just going to let me go? I find that an unsatisfying story, with a lot of holes in it,” Brant said. “However, if it gets me out of here, I believe I can live with being unsatisfied, for a little while.”
He was now out of the jail courtyard, where he could see his destry standing saddled, with some other horses, near a stable. Brant walked directly toward the horse, feeling a strong desire, to get outside of the Castle walls.
“Well, I did say Isabel was waiting in the hall, to speak with you,” Robert reminded him.
The gate was wide open, and about twenty men rode in, bearing Brant’s crest on the lead horse. He recognized them as his men. The Knight Harold led the group.
“It is good to see you, My Lord,” Harold greeted. “We were beginning to worry, that something had happened to you, too. It was a relief, when we found out you were just here, getting wed.”
Brant glared at Robert, before replying, “It is good to see you, too, Harold. What did you mean by, ‘something had happened to me, too’?”
“I am sorry to have to say it, My Lord. Esme went to visit her mother, and the girl has just disappeared,” Harold replied slowly. “We searched Peggy’s Castle and questioned her, but she claims to know nothing, about what may have happened to the girl. She certainly looked to be distraught, about her daughter vanishing, but ...”