by Sahara Kelly
Running, by the sound of things, panting hard, but running as silently as possible. Not silently enough to avoid being overheard by the sensitive ears of the Egers.
Within seconds, they saw her.
Mat sucked in a quiet breath. “Holy Mother…”
Luk’s mouth opened.
A woman was running along the forest path, her gown held up in a bunch in front of her. Hair tumbled every which way, and skin showed through tears in the fabric where it had caught on brambles or branches.
She was looking over her shoulder, trying not to stumble, and sobbing for breath.
Behind her came the shouts.
“Hoorooo…gone awaaaay…” A man’s voice shouted a hunting cry.
The woman tripped and cried out, slapping her hand across her mouth to stifle the sound.
“Tally ho…I hear her…”
Luk and Mat shared one quick glance, then moved.
With incredible speed they closed in on the woman, Luk behind her with a strong arm around her waist, and Mat in front of her placing a hand over her mouth.
“Mmmmppfff…”
“Hush.” It was all Mat said, and he had no idea if she understood. Her eyes were wide with terror and she struggled in Luk’s grip, but to no avail. He lifted her off the ground as if she weighed no more than a feather, and within seconds they all melted back into the forest.
Moving as silently as possible, Mat and Luk carried their bundle several yards from the path and then tumbled themselves into a thick patch of ferns, pulling the lacy fronds back above them to cover their bodies.
With Mat on one side of her and Luk on the other, the woman was trapped neatly. Mat brought one leg over hers to still her thrashing fear, and Luk stroked her cheek with his hand as he attempted to calm her.
Her heart pounded against Mat’s chest. “Quiet, kicsi őz. Your hunters will not find you here. Stay still.”
Surprisingly, the woman obeyed.
She froze between them as the sounds of half a dozen men thrashing through the forest drew nearer.
“Damn bitch…we should have brought the dogs.” A shout from less than ten yards away sent Mat’s heart into overdrive. The adrenaline coursed through him and for a moment, the English countryside disappeared and he was once again buried in a wild forest in the depths of Europe, hugging Luk close and evading the Turk’s men.
All that was missing was the blood from their beatings.
And the pain.
His arms tightened around the woman, and Luk’s body tensed on the other side of her, a slight shudder, no more, but one Mat felt as surely as the rock that presently dug into his ear.
He too was reliving some old memories best left buried.
“Come on, Charles. Leave her. She’s not worth it.” Another voice called from further away. “Besides, Eddie’s casting up his accounts again…” Laughter accompanied the sound of vomiting.
“Never could hold his brandy, the stupid bastard.” The man they’d called “Charles” crashed away, putting welcome distance between him and his prey. “All right lads, I suppose this party’s over. Let’s find ourselves some food. I have a hunger gnawing at my belly…”
More raucous comments followed, some directed at the hapless Eddie, others suggesting in graphic terms what sort of activity could assuage the hunger Charles was suffering from.
Mat couldn’t have cared less. All that concerned him was that the party of drunken men was now heading away, back from whence they’d come.
For long moments, the three people lying in the undergrowth remained silent and still, waiting for the sounds of the forest to reassert themselves.
Mat felt his jacket dampen with the moisture seeping up from the ground, but ignored it. He also felt the soft breasts of the woman pressed against him. That was harder to ignore.
Her head was buried in his chest, and all but smothered by Luk’s arm. She was naught but a brown shadow between them, but she was still breathing, and free. That was the most important thing, right now—keeping her free.
Finally, they moved. By mutual consent, both Mat and Luk eased their hold a little and let the woman go.
Mat looked down at her as she raised her head.
Huge brown eyes stared at him, and then turned to look at Luk. She blinked.
“Good heavens. I’ve been rescued by two Hungarian gods.”
She blushed.
*~~*~~*
Luk disentangled himself and rose, helping both Mat and the woman as they stood. “Who were those men? Why were they chasing you?”
“Oh, and we’re not gods,” added Mat.
She shook out what was left of her skirts. “You shall not convince me.” With practical and business-like gestures, she straightened her clothing and attempted to tidy her hair. “What else do you call people who save a woman from a fate a lot worse than death?” She eyed them up and down once again. “And you’re certainly handsome enough to be gods. Angels? No. Gods, yes.”
Luk grinned. “We haven’t been formally introduced, Ma’am. The god to your right is Matyas Eger. I am Lukasz Eger. At your service.” He bowed correctly, ignoring the crumpled ferns at his feet.
“Eger? Isn’t that a town in Hungary?” Interest lit her eyes. “There are some well-known wines from that area, I think?”
Luk glanced at Mat. “We have rescued ourselves a Hungarian scholar, I do believe, Mat.”
Mat nodded. “Your knowledge is out of the ordinary, Ma’am…would you care to join us for a bite to eat? Our caravan is not far, and we can at least offer you the chance to tidy yourself. And tell us how you came to this…this difficulty?”
The woman tilted her head, stared at them both, and nodded. “Very well. And I must complement you on your gift for understatement. That was a great deal more than a ‘difficulty’, as you put it. I am in your debt, gentlemen. Shall we?”
With as much grace as a woman could manage with her gown hanging around her in tatters, she tucked her arms into theirs and allowed them to lead her back to their caravan.
As they walked, Luk took stock of her, and knew Mat was doing much the same thing.
She was short, barely reaching their shoulders, and her gown was one of the ugliest he could remember seeing in a long time. It had once been brown, not a good color choice for her, since her hair was also brown, as were her eyes.
It rendered her naught but a mouse, until one caught the sway of her ample hips. Her skin was white beneath the tears, creamy glimpses showing through as she moved. There were soft curves there, and full breasts if he did not mistake, and Luk found himself increasingly aware of her scent.
Stale sweat mingled with the unmistakable fragrance of a woman.
Her hair was a rat’s nest, tangled and filled with twigs and leaves, and there was no doubt in Luk’s mind that a good bath would probably be welcome.
The unlikely thought that he’d like to help her wash her back popped into his mind, and his cock hardened.
He frowned.
Reaching the clearing and their caravan, both men urged her to sit while they fetched bread and cheese and shared their morning meal.
The woman ate with gusto, whether starving or just used to eating well, she finished her plate and sighed with pleasure, blushing as a slight belch erupted from her throat. ‘Thank you, Sirs. I feel much better now. Perhaps it’s time I let you be on your way.”
She stood, and swayed a little.
Luk and Mat were right beside her.
“I think not, kicsi őz,” frowned Luk.
Her eyes turned to his. “What does that mean?”
“Little deer.”
She snorted, even as she leaned against them. “It’s been some time since anyone called me little, and I don’t think I’ve ever been compared to a deer.”
“You are exhausted. Will you not rest for a while in our caravan?” Mat’s voice betrayed his concern. “We are on our way to London, but there is no hurry…we can take you to a place of safety…you have but to tell us
where.”
She sighed. “I have no place of safety, Mr. Eger. In truth, I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Then come inside and sleep.” Luk’s words were out of his mouth before he knew it, but Mat was nodding in agreement. “Let us move on, away from this place, and find a new campsite. When you have rested you can tell us how all this came to pass.”
The woman’s eyelids were drooping, whether from the warmth of the morning sun or the fact that she had a full belly, Luk could only guess. “Come, Ma’am. We will not hurt you.”
She turned as they tugged on her arms. “I know that.” She smiled, her full mouth curving into the first real grin Luk had seen. It struck a chord in him somewhere. “You two…” she sighed. “You two are gentle. You’re…different.”
Half asleep already, she made no demur as they settled her into their bed, pulling the blankets around her. She blushed as they tended to her.
“Ah, Prioshka,” murmured Mat.
“Whassat?”
“The blushing one,” whispered Luk as he tucked her hand beneath the cover.
“That’s nice. Better than Priscilla…”
She slept.
Chapter Two
It was the lack of movement that finally woke Priscilla Hill.
For a second or two she lay there, aware that she was warm and safe. Two things that had been noticeably lacking in her recent experiences.
The sun seemed very low in the sky, and with a slight gasp she realized she must have slept the day away as her two Hungarian gods had driven this odd vehicle through the quiet lanes.
At least they’d be miles away from Charles Atwood and his cronies. But where to go now? What to do?
Ever practical, Priscilla untangled herself from her blankets. Time to get up, get thinking, and make some decisions.
And see the Egers again.
A little shiver of excitement ran through her. They were handsome as the gods she’d called them, but there was something…something beneath the good looks, some quality or need that appealed to her on a very fundamental level.
She wanted to find out what it was.
And apparently her curiosity was reciprocated. Within moments of her stirring, two smiling faces peered in over the half-door.
“Good day, Prioshka,” grinned the one called Luk. Shoulders, she thought to herself.
“Did you sleep well?” asked the other. Mat. Height, she categorized.
Now she knew them both. It was a handy trick, especially when dealing with several new children.
“Thank you. Yes. I feel a bit guilty, actually…” She smiled back at them. “And I have to apologize for something.”
Two sets of eyebrows rose simultaneously in question.
“I stink.”
Their laughter rang out, bringing a chuckle to Priscilla’s own throat. Good heavens. They were gorgeous.
“I believe we can help with that. Come on out and see where we are.” Mat backed out as Luk helped her rise.
She stepped carefully down the wooden stairs and looked around. They’d found the perfect campsite. Shrouded by willows, the caravan rested on a grassy bank, a few yards from a quiet stream.
The horse had been hobbled a little distance away and was lazily cropping the grass beneath its feet. A small fire was burning, something delicious smelling was cooking in a pot, and the only sounds were those of the birds settling down in the dusk.
“Ooh…how lovely.”
“So, Prioshka. Food first or a bath?” Mat’s laughing question was accompanied by his hand, holding out a towel and—blessings above—a bar of what looked suspiciously like soap.
She glanced at them. She was hungry, yes. But a bath. The chance to rid herself of the stench of the schoolroom and stale sweat.
“If you don’t mind…I think…a bath?”
“We don’t mind at all, Prioshka,” smiled Luk. He rummaged inside a container lashed to the outside of the caravan. “And I think that gown of yours needs to go. Perhaps this…”
Priscilla gasped as he held out a robe in shades of flaming scarlet. “Oh no, I couldn’t…really…” Her hand reached out and stroked the fine stuff, and she sighed at the feel of it.
“Of course you could. ’T’is not for us, but for anyone who might need it. You, Prioshka, definitely need it.” Luk grinned apologetically.
“Um…my name is Priscilla. Priscilla Hill. Mrs. Priscilla Hill.”
Mat and Luk exchanged quick glances. “You are married?”
“I was. My husband was killed several years ago in Europe. I’m a widow.” She swallowed down her feelings. She’d cried enough. And then moved on.
“Our sympathies, Prioshka. But to us…” Mat flicked a finger at her cheek and watched the color rise so beautifully. “You are Prioshka. The blushing one.”
Priscilla lived up to her new name. “Yes, well, it’s annoying. This silly blushing thing. Better suited for schoolgirls. Which I am most decidedly not.” She sighed and took the soap and robe from Luk. “I am thirty-one years old, childless, I’ve been a governess for the last six years, and I smell awful. Right now, I’d kill for a good soak. So just lead me to the water and call me in about a week.”
“Come, Prioshka. Your bath awaits.”
And await her it did. The stream flowed lazily around the bend in its path, creating a small natural pond and the last rays of the sun flickered from its gently rippling surface.
With a sigh of pleasure, Priscilla began to unbutton what was left of her gown, then paused. “Um…” She turned to the two men interestedly watching her.
“Privacy, gentlemen?”
Luk and Mat grinned. Identically, wonderfully handsome grins. Good heavens.
*~~*~~*
Mat was strangely loath to look away. He knew Luk felt the same. There was something so appealing about this woman and her combination of stout practicality and femininity.
“We dare not leave you alone, Prioshka. Even here, where all is quiet. It would be foolish of us to take such a chance.” His words made sense to him, but his tone was low. It puzzled him. This reaction she was causing in him, making his loins stir.
She sighed. “Very well. Please turn your backs, and I’ll manage somehow.”
The men obeyed her request. For all of about thirty seconds.
As soon as they heard the water splash around her, they turned as one back to the river. For a second, they gasped—she was nowhere in sight.
Then she surfaced, dark hair streaming over skin as creamy and pure as milk. And arms that were mottled with bruises.
This time the gasps were of horror. Mat realized that this woman had been hurt. Perhaps it was that knowledge that spurred him on, or perhaps it was the realization that Luk had the same idea in mind.
Whatever it was, they both stripped off their clothes hurriedly, and splashed into the water without a second thought.
“Aaargh…what…what…”
“Prioshka…someone has hurt you…” Luk ran his hands gently up her arms.
“We did not do this to you this morning, did we?” Mat knew he was frowning at her. “When we pulled you from the path?”
He pushed the strands of damp hair away from her face, watching her as she realized their intent was to comfort her. He even saw the moment when the fact of their nudity dawned on her.
A slight shift in expression, perhaps, a little spark of fire behind her brown eyes. Whatever it was, it made his touch even more gentle, a caress of affection—and more. He let his hand rest on her neck.
The color flooded her cheeks. “No. It was not you. My last…charge…thought it was acceptable to pinch his governess.” Her eyes closed for a moment, and Luk moved behind her.
“That is wrong, Prioshka. No one should be permitted to do such a thing. Especially not to one with skin like yours.”
Luk’s hand rested on her other shoulder, and Mat felt his cock swell as the water swirled around her full breasts, almost hiding them and almost revealing them with its gentl
e movements.
“There is nothing special about my skin, Luk,” she breathed.
“Oh you’re wrong, Prioshka,” said Mat. He slipped his hand up her neck to cup her cheek. “You have skin like velvet. White velvet.”
She snorted through her blushes. “Nicely put. But it’s very grubby right now, so if you don’t mind…”
“Oh we don’t mind at all.” Luk grabbed the soap from her hands and tossed it gaily to Mat. “Consider us your servants.”
“Will Milady permit us to wash her hair?” Mat laughed out loud at the look on her face. She was clearly torn…torn between her natural modesty and the desire to be cosseted.
“I…well…I…”
“Good. Just relax.” Mat lathered up the soap and swirled his hands over her head, making her close her eyes to avoid the bubbles.
From behind her, Luk’s hands joined his, massaging her scalp, tugging the tangles free and scrubbing her hair thoroughly.
And, inevitably, one thing led to another.
Their laughter faded as the soapy foam traveled lower, followed by the capable touch of the Egers.
Her neck was washed, and her shoulders received the devoted attention of four hands. Her skin colored delightfully under their attentions.
As Luk’s hands slid lower, she sighed, moving slightly as he massaged her spine with consummate skill.
Mat didn’t need to see Luk’s face. He knew its expression matched his own. His blood was heating as they washed this charming woman, who was apparently unaware of her own charms.
He let his fingers trail lightly down over the swell of her breasts, just as Luk slipped his own hands around her body, rubbing soap just beneath their fullness.
She gasped, and a little moan followed as she moved against Luk’s chest.
Mat neared her, letting her nipples just brush his own firm skin. “Ah, Prioshka…so good. So soft…”
They moved nearer the bank, both Mat and Luk reading each other’s thoughts as always. Kneeling in the water, they took her weight and helped her float.
One of Luk’s arms was beneath her shoulders and his head neared her breast. Mat moved between her legs and let them rest on his shoulders.