Sword Play

by Sahara Kelly

  “And t’other one possesses a stout set of beams, which might be useful for what I have in mind,” grinned Gilles.

  Guy nodded. “It’s decided then. The roofs are pretty sound, thank heavens, if you don’t mind a few squirrels.”

  “Don’t bother me. Doubt we’ll hear ‘em, anyway.” Gilles spoke absently, as if his mind was already on the night to come.

  Guy grinned, the warmth of that smile lighting his harsh features. “You’ll probably hear us, though. If I do my job right, anyway.”

  Gilles laughed. “I plan on keeping Linnet so busy that a full battle could take place outside, and neither of us would know about it.”

  He turned to Guy, a question in his eyes. “You have the flowers?”

  “I do indeed,” answered Guy, reaching into the little bag that hung from his belt. “Dug ‘em out just before we came over here.”

  He pulled his hand from the pouch and showed Gilles a sparkling shower of silver glitter, interspersed here and there with the flash of brightly coloured gems.

  “Excellent, my friend. Excellent.” His fingers poked at the glittering mass. “You want the red one or the green one?”

  “Oh, the green, I think. It’s almost the colour of Mechele’s eyes when she…er…well.” He paused self-consciously. “I’ll take the green one.”

  “Good. That leaves me with the red one. It glows like fire. Like the fire in Linnet…” He too, paused. There were some matters even friends as close as the two of them could not share.

  Both men cleared their throats.

  “Well, that’s it, then. We must get blankets, perhaps beg a little food, gather hay and so on. Let’s to it, my friend. Night will come soon. I hope…” said Guy, quirking his lips.

  “Not soon enough for me,” muttered Gilles.

  They spent the next hour or so desperately gathering what they could to make the cottages habitable for the coming night.

  However, when they returned, Gilles with his arms full of fragrant pine boughs, and Guy with a bale of hay tossed over his shoulders, they found a surprise waiting for them.

  The cottages had changed.

  Gone were the old rushes that had littered the floors. Now they were swept clean and spread with a mix of herbs and fresh hay.

  The openings had been covered with some light and flimsy stuff that swayed in the breeze, and the doors swung smoothly on their newly-oiled hinges.

  Peeking inside, they were astounded to find a small table set up within each, where a pair of tankards rested. Fresh bread lay on covered platters, and both small dwellings showed signs of having been carefully and lovingly tended.

  “Good God,” said Guy, eyes wide.

  “The girls, do you think?” asked Gilles, also astounded at the change which had been wrought so quickly.

  “Nay, lads,” came a gruff voice.

  The blacksmith stepped from behind one of the cottages and faced the two stunned men. “The folks hereabouts figured it was as good a way to say thank you as any. The women took it into their heads to tidy up a bit, and, well…” he looked down awkwardly at his feet. “We all sort of got into the spirit of the thing. Yon lasses know naught of any of it.”

  Gilles shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say nothing, just enjoy,” said a firm voice, as the blacksmith’s wife entered the little clearing, bearing a large tray that held two fragrant pies.

  “Mistress, I cannot…I do not…” stuttered Guy, completely at a loss for one of the first times in his life.

  “Now, lookee, lads,” she said, setting her burden down and putting her hands on her ample hips. “You two have done naught but work hard, and lighten the load of those two wee things who’ve turned our lives around. You proved yourselves friends with your deeds yesterday, and none of us missed those looks…”

  Both men found themselves blushing.

  “We would do anything for our Mistresses, lads. Anything. And it seems they want you two.” The blacksmith glanced over the handsome men before him, gauging the broad shoulders and strong bodies, and dropping his glance to the fronts of their breeches. “Can’t figure out why, o’course,” he added, hiding his grin.

  “That’ll be enough of that,” snapped his wife. “Come on, ye girt great lout. Finish your business and let’s be off. We have things to attend to this night, and these folks deserve their privacy.”

  The blacksmith’s grin broadened and he leaned confidentially towards the two men as his wife slipped into the cottages and left a pie in each.

  “There’s many a man will thank you both in the morn, lads. All this passion stuff has brought it to the minds of our women too.” He winked.

  His wife came to his side, with a stern expression on her face. “You’ll not hurt those two, mind,” she said, looking pointedly at Gilles and Guy.

  The blacksmith took her hand firmly in his great paw, ignoring her muttered protests. “No need to worry about that, ducks,” he reassured her. “These two know very well what they’re doing.” He held on tightly to her grasp, even though a blush was starting to colour her neck and spread to her cheeks. “And lest you’ve forgotten,” he said leaning his great height over his wife, “I’ve a mind that maybe tonight we should do a bit of that ourselves.”

  She gasped and the blush turned into a deep flush. “Well, I never…” she sputtered.

  “Oh you will, lovey.”

  With a huge grin, the blacksmith tugged his wife away, slipping his arm around her and downwards, giving her ample buttocks a hefty squeeze.

  Her squawk of protest brought a grin to both Guy and Gilles, as they watched the couple leave.

  “Tell everyone how grateful we are,” called Gilles after them.

  The blacksmith never turned from his wife, just waved his hand in the air in acknowledgement.

  *~~*~~*

  Twilight was a magic time for the Maltby estate. Neither light nor dark, the tired sun had long since disappeared, but at this time of year, the darkness was not quite ready to accept control of the sky.

  It was still light enough to see one’s way, but dark enough that the two ghostly figures moving quietly through the trees would seem nothing but shades of light and dark to unwary eyes.

  Linnet and Mechele had wondered at the smothered giggles and glances they’d received earlier that afternoon, and also at the large tubs of steaming water they’d found in their temporary chamber when they’d sought refuge at the end of the day.

  Even Sir Dunstan, it seemed, had played least-in-sight, announcing he’d have another game of chess with Bodkin before retiring. His twinkling grin alerted them.

  “Something’s going on, Linnet,” said Mechele as she sank into the steaming water.

  “You picked that up too, did you?” answered Linnet.

  “Couldn’t miss it,” answered Mechele, wryly. “I’ll guarantee that just about everyone on the estate knows where we’re spending this night.”

  Linnet looked thoughtfully at a bar of her best soap, which had mysteriously found its way to the small table beside her bath. “And mayhap they’re telling us they’re glad of it,” she said.

  “Well, ‘tis nice to have their approval, but I must confess, that approval or not, I’d still go.”

  “Me too,” chuckled Linnet. “It’s been too long.”

  Both girls pondered that statement as they washed themselves clean. How could a mere day seem like a lifetime?

  “What are we going to do, Mechele?”

  Linnet’s plaintive question broke the silence.

  “Do?” Mechele turned her head. “You need me to give you instructions?”

  Linnet coloured. “No, silly. Not about tonight. I mean about our lives, our futures. These are two knights, remember. They ride in service to Lord Benstede.”

  Mechele’s brow furrowed. “You know what, Linnet? I cannot imagine Guy just taking me, giving me his love, and then riding off with a wave and a flash of his armour. ‘Tis not in his character, I’m thi
nking.”

  “No, nor Gilles, either.” Linnet agreed with a sigh. “But I cannot help but wonder what lies ahead for us. Much as I love Gilles, I should hate to be parted from you.” She held out her hand, and Mechele grasped it firmly.

  “We’ll have to trust them, and ourselves, Linnet. We’ve shared too much together to lose our friendship. Let’s not worry about tomorrow until tomorrow comes. Remember, we have tonight.”

  And so two clean and excited women made their way through the twilight to the two equally clean and excited men who awaited them.

  The Maltby estate lay quiet, as if to spare them any further embarrassment.

  Truly, this night and these knights were for them alone.

  *~~*~~*

  Guy and Gilles were waiting.

  Small lamps glowed in both cottages, sending a soft glow into the ever deepening night, darkness having finally decided it was time to do its job.

  The women approached, nervously almost, yet with smiles of warmth and affection lighting their faces.

  “Good evening, Guy, Gilles,” nodded Mechele, forgetting for a moment that her hair was unbound and she was wearing her night rail.

  “Gentlemen,” greeted Linnet. “We have come.”

  “Not yet,” growled Gilles, striding to Linnet.

  Guy suppressed a snicker, and moved to Mechele’s side. “I’m glad you’re here, love,” he whispered.

  She raised her face and allowed him to drop a quick kiss on her lips, then stood back and peeked around his large body.

  “You have done wonders, Guy. I hardly recognize these cottages,” she murmured.

  Gilles raised his head from Linnet’s as he greeted her in the best way he knew how.

  “It is all thanks to your people, Mechele. We can’t take credit for this little miracle.”

  “Really?” Linnet stared at the tidy little cottages and the soft lights glowing from inside. “How lovely. That does explain a few things…” She cocked an eyebrow at a grinning Mechele.

  “It does indeed,” she answered.

  Both men stepped back a bit and simultaneously reached into their pockets.

  “We have small gifts for our ladies,” said Gilles in his most polished courtly manner.

  They withdrew their hands and produced twin mounds of glittering stuff, which drew the girls close.

  “What is it?” breathed Mechele, just touching Guy’s hand with one finger.

  “How pretty,” added Linnet.

  “They are called hand-flowers, love. Here, let me show you…” and Guy held up his hand to reveal two short sections of delicate chain mail.

  He pulled Mechele’s hand towards him and wrapped a plain band of mail around one wrist. Then he grasped the other and slipped a ring of mail over her middle finger. The links on this one spread out into a second bracelet which he fastened around her wrist. In the centre, a small green flower had been cunningly mounted, and Mechele’s eyes sparkled as she raised her hands aloft and stared.

  “How very lovely,” she breathed.

  “Gorgeous, just gorgeous,” murmured Linnet, watching the red stones on her hand catch the remaining light.

  “They come from the east, I believe. Modelled after some slave restraint or other. We’ve had them for some time now,” said Guy, moving close to Mechele.

  “Never found the right woman to share them, though,” said Gilles, eyes fixed on Linnet.

  The men closed the distance and took their women in their arms.

  Gilles pulled Linnet’s hands around either side of his waist into a warm hug.

  There was a little snick and Linnet found herself locked to his chest, her wrists tethered by the small catch which dangled from one of the flowers.

  She glanced uncertainly at Mechele.

  Mechele’s hands were behind her, and Guy was in front of her, holding her tight and snapping a similar lock.

  He moved back, eyes alight. “You are now our slaves,” he grinned. “Captured by two brave knights, solely for our pleasure.”

  Mechele’s arms strained as she realized her predicament.

  Gilles rubbed his body against Linnet’s, knowing she was trapped to him and loving every minute of it.

  “We’ll bid you goodnight, my friends,” he said, carefully turning Linnet and walking her gently backwards into their cottage.

  “‘Til the morrow, then,” answered Guy, pulling Mechele’s shoulders as they hurried to their own sanctuary.

  Two solid doors swung smoothly shut, and two bolts were thrown home with a satisfying clack.

  And within minutes, Mistress Linnet Aylmer found herself naked, aroused and being plundered up against the huge beam that supported the roof of Sir Gilles deSoleil’s private quarters.

  His cock could wait no more, it seemed, for its heat was even now buried to the hilt inside her as he took her weight in his hands, thrust himself into her standing up, and brought her to the most dizzying release she could ever remember.

  It took even less time for Mistress Mechele Trenowyth to find herself stretched out naked across a raised pallet, smelling of pine and herbs, her hands secured to the wall and her buttocks presented to Sir Guy Northbridge.

  Who was administering a wonderfully arousing spanking to that naked bottom, bringing warmth and tears of pleasure to her soft folds, and a red glow to her white flesh. While she could have enjoyed this treatment to its fullest, Guy, apparently, could not.

  After mere minutes of his gentle punishment, he too found himself plunging into that enticing flesh, which glistened and begged him to make himself at home.

  His strokes were long and deep, and brushed against Mechele’s womb, making her groan and writhe and cry out as he plundered her very soul.

  Their release came together and once more harsh cries of release filled the night air and disturbed the squirrels nesting in the thatch that covered the two small roofs.

  Unbeknownst to each other, two knights shared the same thought at almost the same moment as the squirrels rustled and fussed.

  “The hell with ‘em. Let them find their own pleasure.”

  Chapter 14

  It would have been natural to suppose that, after a night of loving the likes of which neither Linnet nor Mechele could have dreamed of in their wildest fantasies, that the lovers would sleep late.

  But as was their wont, both Guy and Gilles rose with the sun. Of course, they did seize the opportunity for a quick reinforcement of their sensual techniques, but before the cock had finished his morning ritual of announcing a new day, both men had left their beds, slipped their women back into the redundant night rails which had indeed spent the night in useless piles on the floor, and ushered them out into the sunrise.

  Both Mechele and Linnet staggered from their cottages, blinking, stunned, sated, and wondering exactly where the hell they were.

  Guy and Gilles shared identical smiles that blended passion, love, affection and humour. And also a great deal of male pride.

  It was their cocks that had rendered these two strong women weak at the knees, their rough cheeks that had brought a flush to their bodies, and their tongues that had sent them screaming over the edge of bliss uncounted times.

  Yes, it had been a night well spent.

  But the morning had arrived, and today it was time to seal the fate of one cunning bastard.

  Guy and Gilles were ready. Their need to finish this business and get on with their lives was growing within them. The knights were gearing up for battle.

  They sent their women back to the house with loving kisses and longing touches, but both knowing it was time for action, now, and that future pleasures would seem all the sweeter once this business had been settled.

  Then they retired to refresh and dress, each busy with his thoughts, plans and ideas for what lay ahead.

  Mechele and Linnet, however, had a very difficult time trying to think at all.

  “My God,” muttered Linnet, as she made her shaky way through the silent rooms of Maltby.

>   “Dear Lord,” agreed Mechele, grabbing on to a table for a moment as her legs threatened to give way beneath her.

  They shared a glance and giggled.

  “Look at the two of us,” groaned Mechele. “Anyone would think we’d been riding for days…”

  “I feel like I have,” quipped Linnet, laughingly.

  “Yes, now you come to mention it, my bum is decidedly sore.” Mechele rubbed a hand over her buttocks, and a secretive grin crossed her face. “We must not tarry, though. Time is wasting and I want this whole Lymington thing finished.”

  Nodding her agreement, Linnet followed her cousin and braced her shoulders against what the day was to bring.

  Clouds studded the bright sky, and dappled shadows over the courtyard as two large horses clattered across it to stop before the front doors of Maltby Abbey.

  The servants within eyeshot stopped dead, taking in the sight of the two men riding atop the great beasts.

  The huge shires had been brushed until they shone, even the tufts of hair that nearly covered their hooves was soft and white.

  But the men astride them were even more eye catching. At least to the maids, anyway.

  Guy’s black hair tumbled onto his shoulders, and his grey eyes were alight with some fierce emotion, as he watched for his lady to join him.

  Gilles’ hair caught the sun and turned to a glittering gold, matched only by the glitter of his bright blue eyes as they, too, looked for the woman who would ride before him.

  Both had retrieved their remaining clothes from their packs, and wore clean but simple shirts, laced to the neck, but the homespun breeches had given way to soft leathers, and they both sat tall as they awaited their women.

  No one could now mistake them for anything other than what they were.

  The Knights Elemental.

  The doors swung open, and the women emerged, a little self-consciously, yet clearly eager to join their men.

  “Saints,” laughed Mechele, stunned at the sight of Guy atop a cart horse. “We are to ride him?”

  “For the moment, yes,” murmured Guy, a sensually wicked grin crossing his stern face.