by Toni Sands
The lead girl, her skin darkest honey, began to sing a ballad. The others listened intently, their eyes for the first time meeting the gazes of the men watching with an intensity that made the hair on the back of Gavin’s neck prickle. He started listening, really listening to the words of the song. Slipping sweetly from her lips, caressing the senses of the burly knights taking their relaxation.
The ballad told of a seduction, of forbidden caresses, tell-tale glances, clothing slipping off, naked limbs. Fingering. Stroking. Probing. The dancers began to move, arching and stretching languorously as the song moved on. Repetition ramped up the excitement. Gavin’s mind replayed the encounter he’d enjoyed with Amara. Though his gaze focused on the performers, his mind took him back. Reminded him of his vulnerability. Grounded him.
The dancers were stroking themselves. Caressing one another’s arms, thighs, and breasts. The song reached a climax, its singer plunging downwards, arms crossed in front of her breasts. She lay back as though succumbing to a lover. Her legs parted beneath her flimsy black skirt and she bent her knees, revealing a sleek, shaven vulva.
Tev shifted in his seat. Gavin turned to look at him.
‘I shouldn’t have come tonight,’ said the knight. ‘I’m revved up enough about that girl I’ve got my eye on. This is torture.’
‘I know. My mind’s working overtime. Does it get worse? Or do I mean better?’
Tev snorted. The knights were applauding. Hurriedly, Tev and Gavin followed suit.
‘If you like watching women pleasuring one another, you’ll have a ball. It’s compulsive viewing, but you’ll be aching for a shag afterwards. Be warned.’
Gavin nodded. The performers were regrouping into pairs. More pulsating music, the drumbeat regular and slow. Then fast but still regular. Then faster as the action escalated. Beakers of cold ale were passed among the audience. Gavin took his gratefully and sipped. One girl and her partner seemed to have found some different plateau of enjoyment. Their limbs, black silk against ivory satin, writhed against the crimson floor covering. Slowly, the two girls wriggled into a 69 position. The girl with the skin dark as night gently parted the pink-brown folds between her partner’s thighs. Slowly inserted her tongue. Slowly lapped and sucked. Slowly.
The light-skinned maiden produced something Gavin hadn’t seen before. Unmistakeably it served as a phallus. Unmistakeably these two knew each other’s body well. The beat of the drum. The thrust of the dildo. The thrust of the tongue. It was difficult for Gavin to remain in his seat. The ache in his groin refused to go away.
Suddenly, the music stopped. The girls, eyes glazed, eyes closed, eyes begging, went on performing. Panting, cooing, like wild, beautiful jungle creatures, they climbed towards climax. Their combined groan of pleasure was the most arousing sound Gavin had ever heard.
‘What happens now?’ His voice was hoarse as he turned to his companion.
‘Each bachelor knight is permitted to take his chosen dancer to his chamber for an hour. Married ones go to join their wives. Didn’t Tiernan mention this to you?’
Gavin shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not one of you.’
‘Our liege lord keeps a strict eye on us. Fidelity is high on his agenda. But if he gives you the nod, go for it.’
‘Er, maybe not this time.’ Gavin ran his hand through his hair. ‘I haven’t done too badly over the last two days. For … You know.’
‘You’ve fucked enough, have you, mate? You can request a private show, you know. You don’t have to shag the girl. Mind you, if you’re not aroused after that, you deserve to be put on a plinth.’ Tev chortled at his own joke and slapped Gavin on the shoulder.
The knights were getting to their feet, waiting for Tiernan to give them the nod. The First Knight’s gaze met Gavin’s. He raised his eyebrows.
Gavin mouthed a thank you but shook his head. He bowed to Tiernan, who acknowledged it with a nod.
It was easy to slip out of the room. He needed some air. He should go and make sure his horse was settling into his new quarters. His own tumbling thoughts needed settling if he was to sleep at all that night.
Chapter Ten
Cool air slid past Gavin’s hot face as he slipped through a side door into the courtyard. He’d felt uncomfortable. Probably down to the kaleidoscope of erotic memories in his head. Those months of conflict, hard conditions, and arid landscapes when he’d been away at the Crusades had tested his stamina. His sexual workout with Sibilla still jarred him with its intensity.
The meeting with the First Lady’s wife belonged to another dimension. He’d been sober, senses not beguiled by heady love potions, his desire flaming solely because of Amara’s lush curves, silky copper hair, and the age-old invitation in her eyes. He’d considered himself unwise, succumbing to her charms so easily. Worrying too late about future meetings with the knight to whom she’d said she was betrothed. The woman had spirit. Wit. She’d captivated him. Told him she loved him. Never mind witches, Amara had him under a spell.
Jupiter’s bollocks but she’d trapped him, all right. Put his life on the line. Forced him to keep a secret that would rock the foundation of the oversized sexed-up raspberry stone castle, should it become common knowledge.
Instinct drew the knight’s feet towards the stables, an area not overlooked by the castle, unless, perhaps, one stood on the battlements. The other knights would assume he was safely in his chamber. Only Tev and Sir Tiernan knew he’d turned down the chance to bed one of the exotic performers. He needed a breathing space. Did he really have to retain his place in this crazy game? Maybe he should talk to Sir Tiernan next day? Ask if there was any hope of returning to the old world, without dancing to the witch’s tune in this one.
A banqueting platter of a pale moon hung in the indigo sky. Gavin followed the path between torches burning at not too frequent intervals. His foot caught a pebble and sent it skittering, rousing the sleepy guard slouched in a doorway. He called out to Gavin as he passed.
‘You the new knight? Your stallion’s down at the bottom. He’s honoured. My lady Amara’s horse is in the next box.’
Gavin chucked the fellow a coin. He’d no idea of the worth, but the lad held it up to the torchlight. ‘Cheers, knight. I’ll make sure your Sarum gets plenty of oats tomorrow. Everyone wants to watch you joust.’
Gavin sighed and hurried on. He knew his jousting skills would more than pass muster. It was just the feeling of someone looking over his shoulder. Plus the anxiety of knowing he’d shared a steamy hour with no less than the First Knight’s lady wife. Not to mention his precarious position, dangling like a marionette on strings held by a power-obsessed, shape-changing, time-travelling witch.
Then he saw her. In the beam of moonshine shafting through the spaces left to allow air and light between the stone-built walls and the timber roof of the stables. Wearing a dark cloak over the gold and cream gown she’d worn to dinner. Her hair loose, lying over her shoulders like liquid flames. She was talking to her mare, Topaz, as well as to his big stallion. Gavin sighed as he realised Sarum was once again melting like marshmallow on the tongue, beneath the stroking fingers of Amara. A bit like his master, then …
She turned to face him. Sarum gave a whicker of disapproval and clumped backwards, further into his stall. Sulky devil probably wanted to teach his master a lesson. Topaz pricked her ears and stood patiently waiting.
‘I thought you’d turn up,’ said Amara.
‘I had to get out of there, my lady. Anyway, I wanted to check Sarum was settled.’
‘He’s fine. Heard you coming. Give him a goodnight fuss and leave a few minutes before you follow me. Keep the boxwood hedge on your left and walk back towards the castle. You’ll see a stone bench. Sit on it. Give a little cough and I’ll talk to you through the hedge. If anyone approaches, feign a sneeze and I’ll take my secret route back. Got it?’
He nodded. Turned quickly back to Sarum, hand outstretched to stroke the stallion’s mane, in case the guard took it upo
n himself to check up on him. When he deemed enough time had passed, he retraced his steps.
‘Worth a wager tomorrow, are you?’ Gap-toothed grin. Cheeky tone. No mention of the First Lady.
Gavin shrugged. ‘Depends on the odds.’
The guard hooted. ‘Outsider with a tasty horse. Sir Saladin’s away. You might be in with half a chance.’
‘I’ll bid you goodnight,’ said Gavin. ‘Thanks for keeping an eye on Sarum.’
He strode down the path, veering left so he walked close to the boxwood hedge he hadn’t noticed before. He’d hardly had time to admire the estate’s landscaping. A swift glance over his shoulder showed how careful planting shielded the stable area from the more formal style of the garden. How many more strides? But there was the stone seat, partly obscured by foliage. What would the lady have to say to him?
He glanced around him then seated himself. Sucked in his breath and uttered a husky cough.
‘You should take a remedy for that bad cold.’
He slid an arm along the top of the backrest. ‘I’m surprised you’re not safely in your bedchamber, my lady. Especially on such a night as this.’
‘Ha! You mean the troupe of dancers. Tits and ass. Tell me, knight, did you enjoy?’
‘My mind was mainly on other things.’
‘Like?’
She wanted to tease him. He’d no intention of letting her. ‘You know very well what I mean. Do you realise what position you’ve put me in?’
Short pause. ‘You enjoyed it, didn’t you? The position you were in this afternoon.’
‘Of course I bloody well did. I could tunnel through the hedge and take you again now because you’re so gorgeous. Except you’re married. Except I value my head. I’ll probably dream about you. Unless I’m still lying awake thinking about the two of us together in paradise. Satisfied?’
Low, throaty chuckle, rousing his cock again. ‘I admire the way you speak to me. I want you, knight. But not now. That’s out of the question.’
‘I should say so,’ said Gavin bitterly. ‘Your husband will be looking for his lovely wife. How will you explain your absence from his bed?’
Big sigh from behind the hedge. ‘You know nothing about our marriage. Suffice to say he married me to create an heir. So far nothing’s happened.’
‘Well it’s not likely to if you’re slinking round the garden with a Johnny No-mates knight, is it? My lady.’
Again the gut-melting chuckle. ‘I like you. Don’t expect a favour from me at the jousting, though. We need to be careful. Wait for me to arrange something.’
He opened his mouth to protest. To tell her he needed this kind of intrigue like he needed a spun sugar helmet. But she’d gone. All that remained was a trace of her perfume floating on the chilly night air.
Amara took the shallow steps of her private staircase two at a time, desperate to reach her spacious bedchamber quickly. She undressed herself, having shooed away her favourite maid of honour, using the excuse of maybe sitting and making conversation with her husband when he joined her. Truth was a small bruise marred her upper arm, where the knight she’d lusted after had pinned her to the ground, all the better to thrust his rock-hard, massive cock inside her. Sir Tiernan hadn’t visited her bed last night, and the First Lady did not want even the tiniest shred of suspicion to enter anyone’s mind. After the evening he’d enjoyed, her spouse would be too eager to jump on her to worry about removing her nightgown. She knew him so well.
Amara slid between lavender-scented sheets and lay back on the pillows. Her husband was a kind, considerate man and she loved him dearly, as she knew he did her. He was never unfaithful. She had a spy she paid well to report anything of that nature. But in bed, the big man disappointed her. She wasn’t about to tell anyone that, not even gorgeous Gavin. Tiernan, ratcheted up a couple of gears by the erotic scenes he’d witnessed, would appear at any moment. He always had one last drink before joining her on a Friday night. To be fair, he had a nice love weapon. Not the hefty cucumber she’d expected to find on such a man mountain. But neat. Workmanlike. As he was in bed.
She imagined herself lying under the leafy branches that afternoon, river sounds burbling in the background. She felt again the firm flesh of the knight beneath her as she mounted him, rubbing her breasts against his chest. He smelt warm. Dusty. His skin tasted salty. Like the sea that had probably been his last bath.
He’d sucked at her nipples till she’d almost screamed for mercy. Let her rub herself against him so her little pink peak swelled as a million waves of pleasure coursed through her belly. Her limbs. Her cunny. She’d vibrated with pleasure, joy, and total satisfaction. But he hadn’t finished with her. When he turned her over, pinning her beneath him, she didn’t expect to come again. But he made sure of that.
And now she felt the wetness springing between her thighs as her juices flowed in tune with her sensuous, wicked, forbidden desires. Her fingers found their own way to the wetness. She closed her eyes and urged herself on. One spasm. Two. Then another. And another. Huge and juddering this time. Amara shuddered and writhed, jamming her mouth against the pillow to guard against revealing what she was about to anyone walking by.
The door to her chamber opened and her husband came in. He smiled at her. She pulled herself together and smiled back, wiping her hands on her nightgown under the sheets. The gentle lord knight. Gentle giant. Sweet man. Maybe it was her fault. Wives were supposed to be subservient. Tonight she was far too revved up for that.
She flung back the bedclothes. He pulled off his robe, displaying his nakedness. Fell on the bed. Reached for her. She reached for his hand. Ignoring his eager, stubby cock, she placed Tiernan’s hand upon the downy mound of her sex.
‘Touch me. Gently. Make me squirm. I want you.’
‘You’re – you’re ready for me.’ He sounded surprised.
But she heard his breathing quicken. He dipped a finger inside her, slid it out. Slid it back.
‘Now two,’ she said.
His breathing grew more ragged. He resumed his movements, a tad faster. She arched her back. Moved her head from side to side on the pillow. He planted a kiss on her mouth. Pushed his tongue deep inside. Groaned.
‘I can’t wait,’ he breathed.
‘Then take me,’ she said.
He mounted her. She helped his cock inside. It was hard. Familiar. Pleasant. She squeezed herself around it, welcoming it. Wanting more. He panted, pushed further into her. Groaned and spent himself. It was all over.
He seemed pleased with himself. ‘Sweet wife of mine,’ whispered Tiernan. ‘I must let you sleep now, my lovely.’
He kissed her mouth and turned on his side. Soon his breathing regularised. And she lay at his side. Dreaming of another knight.
Chapter Eleven
Next morning, a pageboy roused Gavin, leaving him a new set of clothes suitable for the jousting planned for that day. The knight scrambled out of bed to examine the outfit, fingering the metal loops of the chainmail coif, holding up the tunic and leggings and stroking the smooth leather of the tunic and the puffy padded shirt.
The Jupiter Knights meant business. The tailor must have used Zebal’s measurements, given he’d lent Gavin informal garments the previous day. This was a chance to strut his stuff in the big league. Except this wasn’t the world to which he was accustomed. All kinds of obstacles might be put in his path. It was difficult not to become cynical, paranoid even, after the events of yesterday and the day before. At least he’d look premier league in his new kit.
Sounds of activity from below kick-started him and he raced down the corridor to the washhouse. After putting on as many of his new garments as practicable, he went in search of breakfast. Zebal was already seated.
‘Gorgeous Gavin, do come to join me.’ He tossed back his sun-streaked, tousled beige hair. ‘Are you ready for the fray, love? Not too heavy a night, I trust? Come on … Tuck in.’
Gavin smiled. He seated himself opposite Zebal, then asked if anyo
ne would be angry with him for taking that seat.
‘Nah … First come, first served at this time of day. The eels are particularly good.’
Gavin closed his eyes. ‘Maybe not eels this morning.’
‘They’re supposed to be an aphrodisiac, you know. Mmm … These are absolutely delish. Cook knows what he’s about. Do try and eat something, love. Keep your strength up for the jousting.’
‘So, am I to be the sacrificial victim?’ Gavin tore off a hunk of seeded bread. Cut a wedge from the wheel of creamy cheese, veined with blue. Plucked a black grape or six from the bunch.
Zebal sat back in his chair. Wiped his mouth. ‘To be honest, it’s nothing big. Tiernan’s arranged it to give the boys some practice before the big championships later this year. The locals are allowed in to watch, as well as the First Lady and her retinue, of course. And whichever of the staff manage to skive off.
‘Timing’s great for you. They absolutely luuurve a new boy. Adore having fresh blood to cheer for. Someone to topple one of the stars from his perch.’
Gavin’s throat dried. ‘Surely doing that wouldn’t endear me to Sir Tiernan? Should I get even half a chance to do such a thing,’ he added hurriedly.
‘Ah, but Tiernan would be well up for it, dear boy. His Jupiter Knights are his dream team and he’s always looking to add someone better. Fitter. Classier. If you overcome any of the entrants, it’ll be because you deserve it. And the one you topple doesn’t. Not that it’s about toppling today,’ he added. ‘More about style.
‘Anyway, love, you look divine in chainmail. You’re sure to cop some favours from the First Lady’s tarty little entourage.’ Zebal clamped his hand to his mouth. ‘Whoops – shouldn’t have said that. But you mark my words. You could end the day by being their top idol.’