Sword Play

by Sahara Kelly

  Gilles waited patiently.

  “Oh all right. Yes. It’s Mechele.” He strode to the edge of the river and stared at the waters, as if trying to find the answers within its rippling depths. “I can’t explain it, Gilles. Touching her was like touching moonbeams. She stirred something in me that I wasn’t prepared for. I want her beneath me so badly that my very teeth ache with it, and yet I want to kill anyone that so much as looks at her with anything other than respect.”

  He sighed. “She touched me and I was lost, Gilles.”

  Gilles place a hand on his friend’s sun warmed shoulder. “If it’s of any comfort, Guy, I had much the same experience with Linnet. All that fire and passion gentling to warmth and desire under my hands. I swear if I could have, I would have claimed her right there beneath that willow and be damned to it. And I also shudder at the thought of another man so much as…”

  His words trailed off. Both men were silent for a moment, busy with their thoughts.

  Guy forced his shrewd warrior’s mind to take over, and did his best to leave his lustful images of loving Mechele in the background. It was not an easy battle, but finally he half-turned to Gilles with narrowed eyes.

  “Well, I can say one thing. Lymington’s troubles lie not with Maltby Abbey, but with Lymington.”

  As had happened so many times since they’d met, Gilles met his look with an intense one of his own. “Agreed.”

  Gilles paced the bank as he considered the problem.

  “You have only to look at those two to tell they’d not willingly defy the law,” said Guy, working things out in his own mind. “Therefore, I am led to one conclusion.”

  Gilles nodded. “That Lymington is perhaps demanding a great deal more than his due.”

  Guy glanced at his friend. “Perhaps it would be useful to find out from the women exactly what his demands are.”

  “And it is my hope that perhaps this evening we may have chance to do just that,” finished Gilles for him. “I agree again. This place is well run, carefully tended, and seems to offer much in the way of security and comfort for its tenants. They’re well fed, hard workers, and from what I’ve seen they’re content to be here. Unlike some other estates.”

  Guy chuckled. “Yes, tonight might be the time to question them. But I’m much afraid that my mind won’t be on learning the details of their levy from Lymington. It will have a hard time concentrating on anything other than learning the details of Mistress Mechele. The intimate details. “

  “You want the house or the barn?” asked Gilles, his lips curving up into a wicked grin.

  “Oh definitely the barn. I want Mechele out of her comfortable chamber. I want her to feel something new, something exciting, something…something…oh hell, Gilles, I just want to feel her.”

  Gilles bit his lip against a laugh. “Well, then, we’re working toward the same goal. I want Linnet to be smothered in softness, to take the edge away from her loving, and make her aware of how sensual it can be. To gentle her first like an untamed filly, then show her things that she’s never dreamed of…”

  Amazingly, Gilles, the Sun Knight, coloured up as he realized what he was saying.

  “Saints, we’re two moonstruck idiots, aren’t we?” Guy’s laugh rang out, disturbing a flock of birds in a nearby tree.

  Gilles smiled quietly. “Indeed we are, my friend. I think we may just be facing the most dangerous foes we’ve ever run into. This time it’s not a piece of land, or a King we must fight for. This time, it’s our damned hearts.”

  “And all this time, I never thought we had ‘em,” finished Guy wryly. He shrugged, sighed, and followed his friend back towards the stables.

  A new kind of battle faced him, and he wasn’t sure of the outcome.

  Not sure at all.

  *~~*~~*

  Linnet ran her brush through her long chestnut hair, absently pulling the tangles free and smoothing it to a soft shine. She’d bathed and changed, and felt more like herself.

  She snorted. Try for a little honesty Linnet, she told herself sternly.

  She felt nothing like herself. Nothing at all.

  Her hand trembled and the brush stilled. She tingled low in her gut at the remembered pressure of Gilles’ lips against hers. Of the sensation of his tongue discovering the nooks and crannies within her mouth, and the touch of his hand on her bare buttock.

  She closed her eyes and shuddered, still aroused, still wanting, and unable to deny it, even to herself.

  Her mind drifted, comparing this morning to the lovemaking of her departed husband.

  He’d been rough, coarse, and more often than not had come to her bed stinking of ale and horses. No clean fresh scent for him. He’d seemed to take pleasure in punishing her for some minor infringement of his rigid rules, and many had been the time when she’d been soundly and cruelly spanked before he sank his cock into her, not even bothering to turn her over first.

  It had been almost animalistic. She’d derived no pleasure from any of it, even though she knew she was capable of achieving such release. Unfortunately, she’d had to make that discovery on her own. She’d tried to mourn his passing, as a dutiful widow should, but scarce had the news spread over his vast, untidy holdings, than she was packed and gone, leaving others to clean up the mess her husband had left behind.

  It had been fate that had steered her mare to Maltby Abbey and her cousin Mechele.

  And now it was fate that had steered Gilles deSoleil into her stream and her heart.

  She smiled now, recalling his face as he’d taken his unplanned mud bath. So many men would have been irate, angry, and embarrassed. Not Gilles. He’d laughed.

  His eyes had lit up with fun, and he’d turned the moment into a childish exercise in joy and pleasure.

  And oh what pleasure his touch had given her.

  A slight scratch on her door heralded the arrival of a now equally clean and refreshed Mechele.

  “You’re smiling,” Mechele said as she came across the room and took the brush from her cousin’s now-still hand. “You must be thinking of him.”

  Linnet’s lips curved even more. “You win no prizes for that assumption, Mechele, my love. And don’t try and make me believe that it’s not Guy who has brought that sparkle to your eyes.”

  Mechele had the grace to look embarrassed. “I can’t hide a damn thing from you, can I?”

  Linnet looked smug. “No. I can read you like an illuminated manuscript. You’re looking entirely too—illuminated—to have anything but Guy on your mind.”

  “I very much wish he was on my body, too.”

  Linnet laughed. “I’m as one with you there, dear. I’m panting at the thought that I might be able to seduce Gilles this very night.”

  Her gaze turned thoughtful. “But should I?”

  Mechele stroked the brush firmly through Linnet’s hair. “Of course you should. I fully intend to explore the length of Guy’s—um—intentions tonight. We are widows. We are old enough to run an estate and make all the decisions necessary for its well-being. Why should we not have the freedom to choose our bed-partners as well?”

  Linnet sighed. “I want to fuck him so bad, I can taste it,” she confessed.

  Mechele, usually uncomfortable using language as blunt as her cousin, grinned. “My feelings exactly. I want to—to—fuck Guy.”

  Linnet’s eyebrows soared and she flashed a glance of surprise at her friend.

  “Yes. I said it. All right? It’s the truth. Guy made me feel that way. Wild, and free and needy, and I swear if he’d laid me down in that river and I’d drowned it would have been just fine, as long as he was inside me at the time.” Mechele returned to her hair duties, plaiting the long chestnut tresses into a neat braid.

  “Well, it would seem we are of like minds. And it would also seem that we’ve picked our best dresses too,” she grinned.

  Mechele snorted. “And why not? I, for one, want Guy to remember what is beneath this dress, even though he saw most of it this morning
, anyway. Wet linen clings, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh I noticed,” said Linnet wryly. “How could I not? Gilles’ heat went right through my kirtle and damned near seared my backside.” She colored slightly, remembering the heat of his hand that had also helped in the searing process. She squirmed.

  Mechele secured the end of Linnet’s braid and let it fall with a nod. “So we are decided then. I’ll see if I can get Guy to take me to my chamber this evening, and you…you’ll bring Gilles here?”

  Linnet chewed her lip, thinking it over. “No, I think I’ll take him to the barn. So much more…more…lusty.”

  Mechele giggled. “I’m not thinking either Guy or Gilles need much encouragement in that area.”

  “Oh God. No, you’re right,” giggled back Linnet. “But we must make haste. I hear the trestles being set up in the courtyard right now. By the Saints, Mechele, I’m as nervous as a damn filly.”

  She stood up and shook out her skirts, and asked the quintessential female question. “Do I look all right?”

  Mechele surveyed her friend. Tall and limber from her active lifestyle, Mechele privately thought that Linnet’s beauty was striking and unique. From the chestnut hair to her sparkling brown eyes, down past her womanly curves to the tips of her toes, she was perfect.

  “You look magnificent, love,” she replied.

  “As do you. This is one time I envy you those…” Linnet nodded wryly at the breasts that thrust against Mechele’s kirtle.

  Mechele tugged on her gown, pulling it up a little and hiding some of the impressive cleavage that was revealed by the low neckline. She knew her sandy blonde hair was clean and shining, and that her hazel eyes had a new and hungry light in them. She’d seen all that in the polished metal mirror.

  She just wondered if Guy would like what he saw. If he’d touch her again and bring those fiery passions to the surface as surely as he had done that morning.

  “Mechele, you never speak much of your husband. Was he cruel to you?” Linnet’s question hung in the air between them.

  Mechele moved to the window and gazed out. “Not at all. He was…he was gentle.” She considered her words, thinking back on the scholarly man nearly two decades her senior to whom she’d been wed at her father’s insistence.

  “Sometimes I think he was just too gentle.” She paused, remembering. “He would touch me as if I was made of glass. No passion, no fire. His bedding was, well, polite, I think would be the best way to describe it.”

  Linnet sighed. “I could have used a little of that in my marriage bed, that’s for certain. ‘Tis no pleasure to be used by a man no better than a rutting stallion.”

  Mechele bit her lip. “Perhaps that explains our attraction to these knights? That they differ so to our first lovers?”

  Both girls considered this for a few moments.

  “Yes and no, Mechele. Yes, Gilles is different, but no, it’s not that difference that attracts me to him.”

  Mechele nodded. “I know. Guy is like the flint that strikes the tinder inside me. So different but so unique. But we’ll have neither of them if we don’t hurry.”

  Linnet settled her light veil and chaplet on her head and grasped Mechele’s hand. “Come on. We’ve a pair of fine cocks awaiting our pleasure, and I for one am more than ready for them.”

  And with that, the two women scurried from the room, each trying to hide their nerves, but each knowing that this night and these Knights might change their lives forever.

  Chapter 7

  The courtyard was buzzing with activity as Guy and Gilles strolled towards it. They’d also cleaned themselves up to a fare-thee-well, and removed fresh and much more respectable breeches and shirts from their tightly rolled packs.

  Their vibrating masculinity surrounded them like an almost visible aura, making many a woman cast a glance in their direction and take another, closer, look at the two new workers.

  My, my. I never realized. How did I miss those two?

  But their eyes never wavered from the pair of women circulating amongst their tenants, chatting, laughing, stopping to cuddle a child, and welcoming their friends with warmth and ease.

  Old Sir Dunstan had also, incredibly, made an appearance.

  Gilles had learned that the old man was much loved by his people, and they laughed good-humoredly at his habit of napping anywhere and everywhere, whenever the urge came upon him.

  They were not in the least concerned that all the orders came from two women, in fact they’d been unanimous in praising both Linnet and Mechele to anyone who asked, and even a few who didn’t.

  “By God, lad,” said one farmer. “If it hadn’t been for those two, we’d have gone under and lost everything that first winter after those damned Swanns left. Took as many of us as possible into that house yon, and fed us what they could. None went hungry, the children survived, and from that day on, not a one of us at Maltby Abbey wouldn’t give our lives for them.”

  He’d chewed meditatively on a piece of grass. His eyes were old, but still sharp, and he was one of the few who’d taken a shrewd second glance at the two new additions to Maltby’s estate. “We wouldn’t take kindly to anyone who might have unfriendly thoughts about those lasses.”

  It was a clear warning that warmed Gilles’ heart. “Believe me, friend, neither Guy nor myself would ever harm a hair on their heads. We also believe that women are to be cherished and protected, not victimized.”

  The farmer had stared at them for a moment or two, and then his wrinkles had shifted into a grin. “Well, then, lads, perhaps you might get to a bit of that cherishin’ you were speaking about. Seems yon lasses could use some laughter in their lives.”

  With a wink, he’d sauntered off, whistling tunelessly, leaving Guy and Gilles staring after him with identically bemused expressions on their faces.

  And now, thought Gilles as they entered the courtyard, let the cherishing begin.

  Guy’s first impression was of a mass of people all talking at once.

  Then he caught sight of Mechele as she lifted her head and met his gaze. Everything else faded into nothingness next to the light in her eyes as she saw him.

  Dear God, he wanted her in the worst way. Or the best way. Or any way at all. His loins throbbed and he cursed his wayward cock, ordering it to not misbehave and make its presence known right at this moment. It ignored him and pressed eagerly against his breeches.

  He muttered a curse, but for once Gilles paid no attention. He’d spied Linnet.

  The two women made their way towards the newcomers, a smile of welcome on their faces.

  Mechele’s peach kirtle caught the rays of the setting sun and turned her flesh and her shining hair to gold. Her breasts, those luscious ample breasts he could still feel in his hand, were displayed very nicely by her low neckline. Guy wanted to cover her from head to toe and experienced a flash of anger at the thought that others might also appreciate her body.

  He glanced around, and barely restrained himself from reaching for his sword. Which would have looked very foolish indeed, since he wasn’t wearing one.

  This woman had him tip-over-arse, there was no mistake about it.

  “Greetings, gentlemen, you are most welcome.” Mechele’s words were general, but her eyes were for Guy alone.

  His gut clenched. It was going to be a long evening.

  “Will you allow us to make you known to Sir Dunstan?” Linnet asked politely, her eyes devouring Gilles.

  “With the greatest of pleasure, lady,” Gilles answered, drawing her arm through his as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Guy and Mechele followed, Mechele’s hand resting lightly on Guy’s. He found himself nearly trembling at her closeness, and the light scent of roses and woman that surrounded her.

  “Your fragrance overwhelms me, Mistress,” he whispered.

  She drew back a little. “I wear too much, Sir?”

  He tugged her back roughly to his side. “‘Tis not your perfume, I spea
k of, Mechele. ‘Tis your scent. The scent of a woman. The particular scent that is you.”

  He looked down and met her gaze, willing her to understand.

  She blushed. Obviously she did.

  The two couples made their way to the doorway of Maltby Abbey, where Sir Dunstan had been seated on a large comfortable chair and was smiling and nodding at the throng in his courtyard.

  “Uncle Dunstan,” said Mechele, leading Guy forward. “We have guests this evening.”

  Linnet followed close behind with Gilles.

  Sir Dunstan’s eyes wrinkled against the setting sun as he looked over the two fine strong men who now stood before him.

  “These are two knights, Sir Dunstan,” said Linnet, obviously choosing her words carefully. “They have come to visit Maltby and have been so kind as to offer their assistance with many of our hardest chores.”

  “Knights, eh?” Sir Dunstan’s voice rattled in his throat. “And what might two hearty knights find to do at Maltby?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and although his hands trembled slightly, they tightened on the arms of his chair in concern.

  “Don’t worry, Uncle Dunstan,” soothed Mechele. “They are here to help, not to hurt. This is Sir Guy and that is Sir Gilles.”

  The two men stepped forward and bowed respectfully to the old man.

  “‘Tis an honor to meet you at last, Sir Dunstan,” said Guy in his deep voice, meeting the heavy lidded eyes without a flinch.

  “A very great honor,” added Gilles. “We have been made most welcome at Maltby Abbey and appreciate your hospitality. It’s been our pleasure to serve such a fine estate in any way at all.”

  Sir Dunstan flickered a glance over the group. “I’ll wager it has been,” he grunted. “See that you continue to serve the estate, and not my girls.”

  “Uncle Dunstan,” gasped Mechele, colouring up. “How could you say such a thing?”

  The old man snorted. “I maybe in my dotage, but I’m not blind, girl. You two have worked your pretty little arses off to bring Maltby to what it is. You just be careful you don’t give it all away for a quick tumble with these two.”