A River of Orange

by Roberta C. M. DeCaprio

  Looking up at the moon, Lorna rubbed her nipples; her mind thought back to the nights her beloved pleased her, teased her, seduced her ... then left her panting for more.

  Never had she allowed Uri Kent to enter her. A scullery maid she might be, but smart enough to know that when you give the goods away too soon, you are left with a heavy belly and no man to care for you. She had seen it many times, her own mother had fallen prey to such a situation ... left to raise Lorna without a father. Perhaps Lorna would have been destined to do more than scrub pots, had she had an ample dowry ... one only a father could provide.

  But she did not care anymore, she was resourceful all on her own ... smart, held her wits in many circumstances and was doing something to better herself already. Her new position as the next queen's handmaiden would bring her closer to the new king. When Rule tired of his wife's charms, as husbands always do, she would be ready and willing to warm his bed. Then she would use him; steal from him his riches ... and take revenge for the way Rule and his men took Uri Kent's life.

  Lorna stepped to the river's edge and reached down for a handful of water. She splashed herself several times, becoming acclimated to its chill. It refreshed her hot flesh, cooled her desires.

  But Lorna's contentment did not last, as suddenly she felt a presence. Instinctively she crossed her arms over her breasts and was just about to run, when a hand was slapped over her mouth and an arm around her throat. Sheer black terror washed over her.

  Shell brought his lips close to Lorna's ear. “'Tis me, Shell ... Devora's sentry."

  Lorna tried to wiggle free from his hold.

  "I will not harm you,” Shell went on, his arm tightening around her throat like a vice. “I come to you tonight with a very interesting proposition ... one that might be the answer to all your dreams."

  Lorna relaxed, dropping her arms lower on her breasts. She was always open to those kinds of proposals.

  "If I remove my hand from your mouth, do I have your word you will not make a sound?” Shell said.

  Lorna nodded.

  Shell released her and took a seat on a nearby rock. Raking his eyes down her naked body, he smiled. “Such beauty belongs garbed in fine garments fit for a queen.” He reached over and picked up her worn, discarded dress. “Not rags like this."

  Lorna ripped her dress from his grasp and quickly slipped it over her head. “Where is Devora? All the word around the castle is that you and she escaped together."

  Shell's mouth twisted. “She is dead. Meav put a curse on her, and Devora died last eve."

  Lorna glared at him. “Good ... she was an evil woman."

  Shell eyes filled with rage, but he stayed silent.

  "You left your post and did not care about your men.” She gritted her teeth. “Uri Kent died defending the crown."

  Shell stood and moved closer. Slowly he traced her lips with his finger. “I had no choice, lass ... and if I could somehow do it over again I would be standing by my men. But all the arguments in the world will not bring those who died back to us. We can only take peace in getting our revenge and live on."

  Lorna found her heart racing. “What kind of revenge?"

  Shell's mouth twisted with a slow grin. “The kind that would make me king and you handsomely rewarded."

  Lorna leaned forward, placing her hands on his muscular chest. “Now that Devora is gone, how about me being queen?"

  Shell arched a brow. “You drive a hard bargain, lass."

  She smiled sardonically. “I have to look out for my own."

  Shell's hand moved to her breasts. “Have you a chance to befriend Meav?"

  Lorna had not felt the touch of a man in nights, and her body ached for such caresses. “I have been made her handmaiden."

  Shell playfully pinched a hardened nipple. “Well, now ... what could be more perfect?” He slowly roamed his hand down her belly, to the hem of her dress. Raising it, his fingers found the juncture of her thighs. “Your skin is so soft, Lorna. You deserve to bathe in a tub filled with warm, scented water. And after, I will rub oil all over you.” He gently parted her V and found her hidden fires.

  Lorna moaned with pleasure, opening her legs wider. His touch sent spasms throughout her body. “What is your plan?” she asked breathlessly.

  He continued to tease her slippery nub with the tip of his finger. “Bring Meav to this very place by the river for three afternoons. Let the first outing be the day after the morrow. Then bring her again a few days later ... then a day after that. Pack a lunch, pick flowers, and talk as women do. Gain her confidence"

  Lorna closed her eyes with the ecstasy of her climax mounting, her legs becoming weak with the pleasure. She leaned against Shell's muscular chest. “Then what?"

  Shell abruptly stopped his bold advances and stepped back. “That is all, lass ... leave the rest to me."

  Lorna's eyes flew open, frustrated with how he left her moist, hot desires unappeased. “Rule is not a fool,” she snapped, feeling a little like a fool herself. “He would never let his woman out of his sight with you and Devora still unanswered for."

  Shell frowned. “You have a point."

  Lorna angrily smoothed her dress down over her thighs. “Your plan will never work, and you can forget the garden passage. I heard with my own ears Rule order his men to seal it shut."

  Shell's eyebrows quirked questioningly. “Do you have access to sleeping herbs?"

  "Aye, I know where they are kept."

  Shell's voice was almost an affront to the silence that surrounded them. “And I know that Rule's man Bulwark is a glutton ... not able to resist any morsel of food that is handed his way. Convince Meav she needs a bit of sun."

  "And what do I do when Rule objects to the two of us going off alone?"

  Shell smiled. “That is when you suggest that Bulwark come along to guard the two of you. Pack him a meal as well, but on the third day hand him a piece of freshly baked raisin bread laced with the sleeping herbs.” He chuckled lightly. “The buffoon will never know what hit him."

  Lorna laughed wickedly. “And then what?"

  Shell moved toward her, again tracing her full lips. “As I said, lass, leave the rest to me."

  Loreli raised her head out of the water ... just for a moment ... permitting herself a withering stare at the two humans outlined by the moon's light. To her surprise anger rippled along her spine. Why should she care what happened to the earth creatures? She never particularly liked Rule. Tracing with her finger the scar on her arm, she remembered the day the panther ripped Meav from her grasp. Perhaps Rule did not matter, but she wanted no harm to come to the red-haired maiden. The mermaid had saved the girl from the shipwreck for her own pleasures and would not lose her to the two standing here tonight. Taking a deep breath, Loreli dove deep into the water and swam away ... knowing that she should ... nay ... that she would have to find some way to warn Meav.

  * * * *

  Meav watched Lorna in the reflection of the dressing table's mirror. Her new handmaiden was readying her for Zailia's nuptials and took pains in rolling into large curls each long strand of Meav's tresses, then securing them atop her head. Never had she worn her hair in such a fashion. There was little need for such elegance in Dublin, when your day was only spent cleaning the barn or feeding the chickens.

  Meav fingered the lace that trimmed the sloping neckline of the cream colored dress she wore. The expensive material felt like a soft cloud enveloping her flesh. “This gown is as elegant as a wedding dress.” She frowned. “I should wear another. ‘Tis Zailia's day to shine."

  Lorna looked into Meav's eyes through the mirror. “But this is the gown my lord instructed I help to dress you in.” She bit her bottom lip. “'Tis trouble you will be bringing down on my head should you change into another."

  Meav certainly did not want Lorna to get in to trouble because of her. She sighed heavily. “Not to fear, Lorna, I will stay wearing the gown."

  "And ‘tis a fine one at that, my lady.” Lorna sto
od back and admired her handiwork. “As well as the way you look with your hair up.” She gently stroked Meav's neck. “A fine and delicate neck you have, long and slender like a beautiful swan. ‘Tis no wonder my lord is so taken with you.” Lorna frowned. “But such a lovely neck needs adornment."

  Meav held up a finger and made her way to the trunk. In a hidden pocket she pulled out a small, black box. Turning toward Lorna, Meav slowly opened the box.

  Lorna's eyes bulged.

  Resting in the folds of soft, black velvet material was an opal stone cut to fit into a teardrop setting. The gem was framed in gold and hung from a serpentine link chain.

  Reaching for the pendent, Lorna removed it from its box. “Let me help you put it on, my lady."

  Meav nodded, turning her back to the handmaiden.

  Lorna fastened the clasp, then turned Meav back around. Her eyes filled with envy. “Such beauty."

  "Does it do me well?” Meav asked.

  Lorna motioned to the mirror. “Have a look for yourself."

  Meav walked to the looking glass and took an audible breath. The pendent lay perfectly around her neck, settling just right above her cleavage. In awe, she traced the beautiful jewel with the tip of her finger.

  Lorna clapped her hands together in delight. “The perfect finishing touch, do you not agree?"

  "Aye, perfect,” Meav whispered. “But this was Rule's mother's. Perhaps I should just replace...” she hesitated. Nay, not a chance in the world would she leave this beautiful piece of jewelry unguarded. “Perhaps I should return it to Rule."

  Lorna frowned. “The chest was given to you, so all that is in it is yours."

  "Aye ... that is true, but this is so ... so splendid and such a personal keepsake. I truly do not think Rule meant for me to..."

  "You will take his breath away,” Lorna interjected. She placed a hand on Meav's shoulder. “Keep it on, my lady."

  Meav nodded slowly and smoothed down her full skirt with trembling hands. Would she ever get used to all the changes in her life ... and Lord have mercy ... how would she ever get used to being a queen?

  * * * *

  "Meya pulma sonata te," Rule whispered in her ear, taking her hand and helping her down the last two steps.

  His nearness made Meav's senses spin. “What did you just say to me?"

  "My heart sings to thee,” he translated, caressing her with his eyes.

  Meav sucked in her breath, as she searched the inherent strength of his face, the amber eyes, and the handsome warmth of his smile. She admired the way his white shirt and black vest clung to his muscular chest. Shiny black boots came to his knees, black breeches fitting snugly around his thighs. A delicious shudder heated Meav's body as the scent of musk and leather permeated her senses.

  Rule touched the pendent around her neck, his finger brushing against the velvety mounds peaking above her neckline. A golden wave of passion washed over him, arousing his desires. Slowly he moved his hand to cup her chin and looked deep into her eyes. “My mother would be pleased you wore it ... I am pleased you wore it,” he added quickly. Then, “I am pleased you are mine."

  Meav moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I am too."

  By thunder, if he did not watch himself he would be taking the lass on the stairway, dueling that dainty tongue with his own, slipping her gown off her shoulders and freeing the fullness he so slightly glimpsed above her décolletage. The heat emanated from her body and Rule wanted ... nay, needed to bury himself deep within the warmth.

  'Twas Ibrehem's hand Rule felt upon his shoulder. “I recognize the look in your eyes, my lord ... ‘tis one I have had many times for Zailia ... no doubt fueled by the same thoughts.” Ibrehem cleared his throat. “We best be getting to the temple.” He smiled, a glint of anticipation glowing in his eyes for what the night ahead held for him. “Where my own bride awaits."

  * * * *

  Zailia wore her mother's wedding dress of light pink organza, fashioned with an empire waist.

  "How I wish my mother could be present on this special day,” she confided to Meav.

  "Do you not feel her love and spirit in the temple?” Meav questioned.

  "Aye, I do at that, as well as seeing her love in the face of the high priestess, Neteru, her sister,” Zailia admitted.

  Meav watched as Tobiah took Zailia's right. Ibrehem was on her left, ready to accept her hand from Tobiah. Meav could not remember a day she had seen Zailia happier ... or more beautiful. She looked like a princess.

  Her friend's sweet face was illuminated by love and candlelight. Meav smiled through her tears as Neteru read the wedding blessing, pronouncing Ibrehem and Zailia husband and wife. After kissing, hugging and wishing the bride and groom a happy life, Meav watched the two depart for their private night.

  She knew where the two were headed. Ibrehem would now take his bride to the mansion behind the castle, a dwelling given to the highest man in command of the king's army ... the position Rule had bestowed upon him only the night before. All day the castle's staff had cleaned and prepared the estate for Ibrehem to take his bride to, and Meav thought he could not get there fast enough.

  'Twas the warmth of Rule's hand upon hers that broke her thoughts. Slowly he led her to the altar of love. Taking a stick, and igniting it from a candle already burning, he lit another candle. Then he handed the stick to Meav for her to do the same. “Will you marry me, Meav O'Shay?"

  "Aye, Rule Thornton, I will,” she whispered.

  Lifting her hand, Rule brought it to his lips, gently kissing the top. “Now, my lady ... will you marry me now?"

  Meav suddenly knew why Rule had asked her to wear the beautiful cream-colored gown. Looking around the romantic little chapel, cassia and sandalwood scented incense burning and candles lit, the sacredness of the moment swelled her heart. Meav decided ‘twould be exactly the right time to pledge her love and life to Rule. Sadly, her folks would not be sharing in this moment, but Meav had made peace with all that had happened and knew her family would want her to move on and be happy.

  She smiled up at him ... her heart filling with joy and love for the handsome warrior standing beside her. “Aye, milord ... I will marry you now."

  * * * *

  The king's chamber was a large suite where a stone terrace awaited through double doors. The candles burning on the mantle cast soft flickers of light on the wide bed, draped with deep blue brocade hangings and covered with silky sheets. The lush pillows were piled invitingly against the cherry wood headboard. A crackling peat fire laid with sheaves of fragrant jasmine added to the ambiance of the room. Meav's feet sunk luxuriously into the oriental carpet that covered the floor. Awed by the rich tapestries that lined a far wall, she moved to get a better look.

  Rule's heart swelled with love and pride for his young wife. After the private wedding ceremony in the temple he escorted her to a dinner in the great hall set for just the two of them. There, by candlelight, they ate, laughed and had a chance to talk. Then he took her hand and led her to his chamber, the one he would share with her from this day forth.

  Rule poured them each a goblet of wine. Looking up, he saw Meav standing by the terrace doors, her slim body silhouetted by the moonlight. “'Tis a beautiful sight."

  "Aye, ‘tis,” she said softly, admiring the wall hanging. She was thankful Rule had chosen the king's chambers for them instead of the queen's. He also promised her she would never have to spend a night in the room where Devora once slept.

  "I meant you,” he said, making his way to her side and handing her a goblet.

  When Meav took the wine their fingers brushed lightly. The mere touch of his hand sent a warm shiver through her. She raised the chalice to her lips and took a sip of the wine, still conscious of where his warm flesh touched hers.

  Rule drank in her beauty, his eyes studying her, memorizing her. Never did he want to forget her. Slowly he cast his gaze to her neck. “The pendent enhances the curve of your velvety throat. And I cannot help but won
der if ‘tis as smooth as a sweet expensive brandy?” He took the goblet from her and set it with his upon a nearby table. Returning, he pulled her close. “Me thinks I shall taste you, now, for myself and see if ‘tis just as delicious.” He brought his mouth to her neck, and gently licked her there, making circles with his tongue around the pendant and down to the creamy expanse of her full breasts.

  Meav responded breathlessly. “Ah, me."

  Looping his fingers in her dress, he slipped it off her shoulders and down to her waist. Taking a full breast into his mouth, he suckled her.

  Meav arched against his mouth. Her nipple, already erect, swelled even more as he nipped and teased.

  Her response aroused him, his phallus unyielding and ready. Rule slipped her dress down passed her hips, than out from beneath each one of her dainty slippered feet. Standing, he cast the gown to one side. She stood before him naked, except for the adornment of the tear shaped opal around her neck.

  A twinkle of moonlight caught her eye as he gazed into hers. His body throbbed to life, making it perfectly aware of what he could do ... what he would do on this night, their wedding eve.

  Rules loins tightened as he began to learn her, touching her where elbow joined the upper arm, where shoulder meets the neck, down to where her breasts rounded out at the sides. Lifting the full mounds, he traced the crease beneath, cupping their heaviness in his palms and gently squeezing.

  Warmth coiled low in her abdomen, her body quivering under his passionate exploration. “Mercy,” was her husky response.

  "No mercy,” he whispered, sweeping her off her feet and placing her on the rich velvet of the coverlet.

  Meav watched him slowly remove his own clothes, giving her the chance to feast her eyes on every inch of his body. When her gaze caught upon the size of his rod, her eyes widened. “Saints preserve us ... nay, me. That will never fit."