Sword Play

by Sahara Kelly

  She raised her head and shot the unfortunate girl a look. There was confusion and anger in those blue depths, and also perhaps astonishment. This one would never believe that another had been preferred to her.

  As Mistress Swann made her way out of the hall, several hisses followed her, and her color rose as her public humiliation was completed by Mistress Leigh, who commented in a loud voice, “And good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. I hope she don’t fall into the midden as she leaves. It stinks bad enough now. “

  A laugh rippled across the applauding guests, and the cheers rose in volume as Constance reached the dais and placed her hand in Magnus’.

  Now she could meet his eyes. “Are you sure, Magnus?” she asked quietly, in a soft tone intended for his ears only.

  “As sure as I could be, love.” His answer was unequivocal and determined.

  She sighed with pleasure, and let him help her up to stand next to him.

  Magnus hugged her to his side and turned back to the guests. “Let’s have more dancing, shall we? Then perhaps our good friend might bless us this night…” He nodded at Father Nicodemus, who had accompanied a party of guests to the Keep, and was smiling and clapping as loudly as anybody.

  “Just a moment young Magnus.” A rough voice interrupted the babble, and Mistress Leigh pushed her way through the people to the front of the chamber.

  The crowd made way for her, recognizing this eccentric old woman, many of whom believed might be a witch or an adherent of the black arts. None were about to cross her, but most had found her to be of great help with one ailment or another. She was an indispensable part of life at Ravynne’s Keep, and few doubted her knowledge or her abilities when it came to the tricky business of healing.

  A hush fell over the great hall once again, as Mistress Leigh faced the couple on the dais.

  “You say the good Father is going to bless us? Well, let me tell you this, young Magnus. I hear things…” She clambered up onto the dais, and put her hands on her hips. “In fact you’d be surprised what I hear.”

  She turned and stared into the crowd. “Things like young Terrence over there, having a bit of a dally with no less than three maids at once.”

  There were guffaws and nudges, and a young man blushed, looking as if this should be the moment for the earth to swallow him whole.

  “And that yon blacksmith’s hammer isn’t the only big tool in the forge.” Loud cheers greeted that statement, and the Blacksmith straightened his shoulders.

  “You heard right about that, old woman,” he answered proudly.

  Several ladies turned speculative eyes towards the huge man, who smirked back at them.

  “So listen to me now as I tell you what I’m hearing.” She bent low, and pressed her ear to Constance’s belly.

  Constance sucked in a breath. She had not told Magnus about Mistress Leigh’s supposition. It was too early, too new an idea for her to comprehend. And she had selfishly acknowledged that her desire was for Magnus to love her and want her for herself alone, not for the possibility that she might, just might, be carrying his child.

  “I hear a woman who needs her food,” cackled Mistress Leigh, bringing a chuckle to the room. “But I also hear stirrings. Movements. I hear the beginning of a new life here.”

  She raised her head and shot a very wicked grin at Magnus, whose jaw was hanging practically to his knees.

  “‘Twould seem that our Lord’s mighty weapon has been used for good. Instead of ridding the world of its enemies, he’s created new life. An heir to Ravynne’s Keep is nestled snug in this woman.”

  The very air seemed sucked from the room as everyone took a deep breath at once.

  “So instead of a blessing, mayhap yon Priest should wed you both this very night. Ravynnes can be bastards by nature, but shouldn’t be by birth.”

  Once again, the room erupted.

  Over the noise, Magnus jerked his jaw back into place and fixed Constance with stunned eyes. “Our babe?”

  Constance blushed. “She told me this afternoon. By Saint Beatrice, Magnus, I have no idea how this happened, or even if she’s right. It’s so soon…”

  A wicked smile curved his lips. “Oh, I have a pretty good notion of how it happened, love.”

  She colored even more at the deliberately teasing note in his voice and the sexy shine in his eyes.

  “That’s not what I meant, you devil,” she hissed, completely at a loss now, and about to dive under the table as the crowd cheered and offered ribald comments on Lord Magnus’ prowess and cocksmanship.

  “So what do you say, lad?” Mistress Leigh was snickering at both of them. “Going to make an honest wench out of her, are you?”

  “Yes.”

  The word covered Constance with a warmth and a joy that surpassed any she could have imagined, and she forgot the crowd, the Keep, the old woman standing next to them, and everything that had gone before.

  “It seems as if we shall need a new tapestry, my love. One for our children.”

  His eyes flared and he lowered his lips and kissed her, making her body burn and her heart overflow.

  Once again, pandemonium reigned in the great hall of Ravynne’s Keep and the musicians struck up a solemn tune as the priest moved forward.

  The tales of the night Magnus Ravynne wed his own true love were told throughout the land, embellished a bit, of course, depending on the teller.

  But one irrefutable fact remained, despite the many versions of the love story.

  No matter how much a man thinks he should change himself to fit another’s image, he can never change his heart.

  And in truth, this was a lesson that Magnus and Constance would teach their children.

  All six of them.

  The Knights Elemental

  This story was originally released as The Knights Elemental, and has been revised and re-edited for this edition. It also appeared in the print anthology Fabulous Knights

  Prologue

  The enormous bed was practically obscured by a tangle of limbs. A sensual moan crept from the throat of the woman whose mound was being caressed, and another sobbed her pleasure as a dark man eased his huge cock between her arse cheeks and plundered her darkest secrets.

  Next to them, a woman suckled and laved another cock to its full height, and a fourth woman straddled a man’s blonde head, setting her sex above a willing mouth and a very able tongue.

  The group writhed and gasped and whimpered its pleasure, a sight of decadence and lust that would have sent shudders of shock through the virtuous residents of the small keep, had they been privileged to observe it.

  Finally, one woman collapsed with a shriek, limbs shuddering and breath coming in gasps as she attained her peak. The woman straddling the blonde man was next, and a firm hand slipped beneath the woman whose arse was glowing with the strokes of the dark-haired man’s cock. That hand found exactly the right place, and rubbed.

  Another scream pierced the gloom within the bed hangings.

  As the women succumbed, the two men found their own pleasure. A harsh face softened for a moment and with a groan, he released his seed, gripping the firm white buttocks and closing his eyes as the tremors spread from his balls to his spine.

  With a sigh, the man next to him finally let go. The woman holding his cock lowered her head even further and moaned as he spurted deep into her throat. His blonde head tossed on the pillow and his hips rose to catch the motions of her tongue as he drained himself dry.

  At last the group subsided into a heap of sweaty, sated flesh, soft kisses and murmurs penetrating the darkness within the chambers.

  There were times when being a knight was not altogether a bad thing.

  Chapter One

  They rode on either side of Lord Benstede like a matched set of chess pieces. Strong, sitting their mounts comfortably, and to all intents and purposes enjoying the sunshine.

  Sir Guy and Sir Gilles. The Knights Elemental.

  It was a nickname given them several y
ears ago when they had teamed for a battle that had been fought and won in glorious, if elementary, fashion.

  Since then, they had formed a deep friendship, and had travelled together throughout the country, bringing fear into the hearts of the unjust, and joy to the bosoms of many women.

  Sir Guy Northbridge lived up to his reputation as a man cold as the north wind—his hair was raven black, and his eyes the stormy grey of the North Sea during a gale. His face was harshly male and his expression stern, lightened only occasionally by a twinkle of humour. Women sighed for him, and lusted after him, and those that were fortunate enough to share his bed told tales of a man who took boldly and gave much, leaving exhaustion and a smile behind him. But always leaving.

  Sir Gilles deSoleil, on the other hand, was a complete contrast. His sandy blonde hair reflected the sunlight, his bright blue eyes sparkled with merriment, and his lips were permanently creased into a pleasing grin. His women sighed with pleasure, cried when he left them, and vowed they’d never find another like him. The Knight of the Sun, they called him.

  But he always left too, making him a perfect companion for the North Wind with whom he rode.

  It seemed that nothing could tie these two handsome knights. Not soft kisses, nor heated couplings. They took what was offered, relished it, and moved on.

  And fought like true warriors when the occasion demanded. Many an enemy had cringed at the sight of the fierce grey gaze that glowed beneath an equally fierce helm, and others had blinked as the sight of a savage smile from a pair of suddenly icy blue eyes was the last thing they ever saw.

  Yes, unquestionably, these two men riding silently beside their liege Lord had deserved their sobriquets.

  The Knights Elemental.

  The North Wind bringing a cold breeze that made a woman’s flesh shiver in anticipation, and the Sun, making her body heat and her woman’s flesh throb with longing.

  Neither of the women watching this parade of magnificent male flesh was thinking along those lines, however.

  And of course the knights weren’t thinking of them in any way at all. It was hard to think about someone who was observing you from halfway up a tree.

  “Linnet, don’t let them see you.”

  The hushed whisper came from a lower branch, and Linnet Aylmer drew herself back further behind the lush foliage. “Don’t worry, they can’t possibly know we’re here from this distance.” She settled her breeches-clad buttocks more comfortably into the crotch of the branches and stared at the party making its way along the lane.

  “How do they look?”

  “Faugh, Mechele, just as we expected. Two pampered knights, and a fat old Lord between them. A baggage train, a couple of squires, servants—nothing of import.”

  “But the knights themselves?”

  “They’ve got good shoulders on them, but with all that finery it’s hard to tell how much is man and how much is padding. And I can’t see their faces. I’d be willing to bet my best chaplet they’re just another pair of arrogant hangers-on, traveling on their reputation and their conquests, naught else.”

  The party was swallowed by the curve in the lane, and Linnet slid carefully out of her tree perch, brushing off her backside and nodding with satisfaction.

  “If Baron Lymington thinks to send his liege Lord over to ‘discuss’ our tribute, then we have no problems. Lord Benstede looks to be a fat and lethargic man, I suspect. Ply him with food and ale, and we can send him away happy.”

  “And the knights?” Mechele’s hazel eyes reflected her concern.

  Linnet snorted. “From what I’ve heard, they would probably be too busy bedding our maids to worry about the tribute. Men of such repute seldom ever have the brains to match their cocks. Don’t worry, Mechele. From what I saw, they pose little, if any, threat to Maltby.”

  Mechele sighed in relief. “Good. Let’s go and reassure Sir Dunstan, then. He should be awake after his nap by now. It will be good for him to know there’s nothing to fear from this particular quarter.”

  With these reassuring words, Mechele Trenowyth hugged her cousin Linnet Aylmer, and the two women retraced their steps through the forest to their home, Maltby Abbey.

  *~~*~~*

  An elegantly gloved hand moved slightly on the reins, and in response to the slight gesture, both knights pulled ahead of their Lord on the narrowing lane to ride side by side.

  “Did you see them?”

  “Yes. Two of them, I suspect. In the tree to the far left of that pasture.”

  Guy nodded. “Local lads, I’ll warrant. Eager for a glimpse of our Lord and his train.”

  Gilles stretched his spine. “Faith, I’ll be glad to reach Lymington’s home. My arse is starting to complain about all these journeys. Too many long days in the saddle with nothing to keep our interest.”

  Guy snorted. “If you disregard the—how many maids was it—in that last keep we visited?”

  Gilles chuckled. “They were all willing, Guy. We had a fine tumble. And if I recall, you had no complaints.”

  A reluctant grin spread over Guy’s harsh features. “No. I had no complaints.”

  “Well, God willing, we can ease more than our arses tonight.” Gilles smiled too.

  Lord Benstede reined in slightly and beckoned them to his side. “See yon house?” he asked, nodding across the fields to where a large wooden structure was nestled into a hillside.

  The two knights followed his gaze, slowing their mounts.

  A patchwork of neat fields surrounded the building, and several tidily thatched cottages lay scattered in the area. The lanes were well-tended, and the whole picture was one of rural tranquillity, lazing comfortably under the late morning sunshine.

  “That’s Maltby Abbey,” said Lord Benstede. “And that, apparently, is why we’re here.”

  “Doesn’t look like trouble,” said Guy, narrowing his gaze and taking in the layout of the settlement.

  “Looks quite pleasant to me, too,” added Gilles.

  “All I know is that Lymington called for our help with this place. I suppose he’ll be more forthcoming when we meet him. And by the Saints, I confess to hoping this journey will end soon, and that the Baron’s hospitality includes a good meal.”

  Guy and Gilles exchanged identical chuckles. Their liege Lord certainly loved his table.

  But it was an affectionate chuckle, nevertheless. They had ridden at this Lord’s bidding for many months now, and had come to respect the shrewd intellect that was well-concealed beneath his portly and unprepossessing exterior. “Probably where those two lads came from that were watching us earlier,” he added.

  Gilles grinned. “Didn’t know if you saw ‘em, my Lord,” he said.

  “I may be slower than you two, but my eyesight is still as sharp as ever.”

  “Never doubted it for a moment, my Lord,” said Guy.

  Something in his tone sparked a huff of laughter from Lord Benstede. “Yes. I’m sure. A good and politic answer, Guy. You’re learning.”

  Guy raised one eyebrow in question.

  “Knights must learn to wield their tongues as skilfully as their swords, lad,” advised Lord Benstede.

  “Oh I doubt that there’s a problem with our tongues, my Lord,” said Gilles cheekily.

  Lord Benstede turned his amused gaze to Gilles. “Of that I have no doubt. Even I have learned of the prowess of my two knights. The satisfied smiles and tears we seem to leave behind in each town we visit cannot, unfortunately, be attributed to my departure.”

  Both knights laughed in self-conscious embarrassment.

  “‘Tis a matter of pride, eh lads? Love the ladies and leave them smiling?”

  “Always, my Lord.” Guy’s answer was so affirmative that a grin spread across Lord Benstede’s face from ear to ear.

  “I wish I had your stamina, boys. Nowadays, I’m afraid ‘tis the lure of the table that makes my heart beat faster.” He suddenly remembered himself. “That and the company of Lady Benstede of course.”


  “Of course,” agreed Gilles respectfully.

  “And methinks that our journey’s end is in sight, my Lord, so your heart may now beat faster at the prospect of a good meal, and ours at the thought of a good hot bath.”

  Guy nodded ahead to where the lane opened wide onto a grand estate.

  The fields were busy, workers digging, weeding, scurrying to and fro with wagons of various supplies, coming and going from the large grey stone building that lay a short distance away.

  “Looks like it might have been a keep, once upon a time?” Gilles studied it carefully.

  “Probably. But it sprawled out into this town we see. I understand this part of the country has been spared the worst of the battles that plagued us a few years ago. There have been a few reports of roving bands of thieves, but not much else. Can’t think of anything too dangerous or difficult about this visit. Perhaps it will be a welcome respite for all of us.”

  Lord Benstede clicked up his mount and moved off with a sprightly trot towards their destination.

  Guy yawned. “Faith. Just what we need. Another round of diplomacy, politicking with the locals, and country maids.”

  Gilles nodded, looking bored. “I doubt that there will be much to challenge us here. Just another case of showing our faces, flashing our swords for the fascination of the natives, offering the support of our presence to the Baron, and we’ll be done.”

  Their sigh was mutual.

  Sometimes, being a Knight Elemental was no fun at all.

  Chapter 2

  “My Lord, brave knights, welcome, welcome…” Baron Lymington beamed and spread his arms wide as if to embrace the incoming party of guests.

  Gilles felt his gut tighten. He hated the obsequious nature of such greetings, and it looked as if Baron Lymington had the art of arse-licking down to a tee.

  “Our humble abode is graced by your presence. And your trusty knights. Welcome gentlemen. ‘Tis a happy day for our home to have such nobility and courage within.”