The Virgin Proxy

by Fox, Georgia

  “Don’t you remember?” she said.

  He thought he remembered her face peering down at him, full of concern and fear, but that could simply be a fantasy, caused by a stout knock upon the head. “Remember what?”

  “You held my hand.”

  “I did?” Strangely enough he wanted to hold her hand again, to feel her soft warm fingers in his palm. He wanted that as much as he wanted to feel other things and that was rare for him.

  A sudden knock at the door preceded Sybilia’s unwanted arrival. He sat up quickly. “Ah there you are, wife. I was just discussing our arrangement with your handmaid. It seems you forgot to mention it to her.”

  The woman said nothing. She had no idea what he was talking about, of course. Instead she looked at his hand gripping Deorwynn’s braid and then her furious gaze swung to the sight of his enormous erection. She scowled hard at both items.

  Deorwynn finally pulled away, grabbed her bowl, bowed her head and hurried out. He curbed the urge to fly after her and drag her back. Somehow he had to get control of this. Thierry thought she was special to him, but how could that be? She was Saxon, mouthy, defied his orders and claimed to have no fear of punishment. Yes, she was a great and exhausting fuck, but surely that was all. He should have handed her off to Thierry and not made such a display. “Strutting” as his friend had called it.

  Tearing his eyes from the door, he suddenly remembered the other woman. She was patrolling the foot of his bed, her hands clasped tightly before her.

  “You pay much attention to my handmaid,” she muttered. “Folk noticed this afternoon.”

  “What of it?”

  “I am your wife, my lord. Am I to be ignored in favor of a penniless serving girl?” She licked her lips and he was reminded of a serpent, hissing its way across the ground toward him. “I doubt my father would be happy if he knew this. He might take back some part of my dowry if he thinks me ill-used.”

  “Might he?” he snapped.

  Sybilia paled at the harshness of his tone.

  He swung his feet to the floor. “Why did you not tell Deorwynn of the arrangement we discussed when we were in bed?”

  Two dots of red appeared on her thin cheeks, bringing new life to her otherwise sour expression. He knew very well that she had no idea what he was talking about. Evidently Deorwynn had said nothing to her of his request for an additional bedmate. So the two women were not communicating in complete openness. Interesting. But Sybilia was definitely complicit in the exchange that took place. Had she initiated it, or was it the other one who suggested they swap? He thought of Deorwynn sitting at his side last night, her fingers touching his chest timidly as she talked of never sharing a man she loved.

  A man she loved.

  Probably just an expression, a turn of phrase. It did not mean she had feelings like that for him. In Deorwynn’s deep brown eyes he was the enemy; whatever her reason for taking his wife’s place in bed that once, love was not it. Yet she had leapt down from the stands when he fell. He was confused by her actions just as much as he was confused by his own.

  He’d known her only a matter of days. Yet there was something between them, binding like ropes of exquisite silk.

  “You could not remember what I asked of you?” He glared at his supposed wife. “I do not often make my demands twice, Lady Sybilia, but today I will make an exception. Perhaps the pleasures of the wedding night completely swept your mind clear of all other matters.”

  She stood very straight, looking at him as if she feared he might leap up and strike her with his fists.

  “I asked you, my Lady Sybilia, to bring your handmaiden Deorwynn to our bed one evening, so she might join us.” He paused, one hand resting on his wounded thigh. “Do you remember now?”

  It took her a few moments to compose herself. Her thin brows curved slightly, her lips parted, exhaling a small sigh of resignation. “Yes, of course,” she murmured finally.

  “And you agreed. Did you not?”

  “Yes.”

  He squinted. “You do not forsee any objection from the other woman?”

  “Of course not, my lord. Deorwynn always does as she is told.”

  He wanted to laugh at that, knowing this was absolutely a false statement. That was why the entire matter was puzzling. A woman of Deorwynn’s stubborn, proud nature would not willingly take another woman’s place and give her virginity away to a man she considered her enemy, unless she had an important reason.

  “And you are content with the arrangement?” he demanded. “You will do all that I ask?”

  “You are my husband and your wish is my command.”

  There was no emotion on her face. Unlike the other woman, she would gladly share him it seemed. “Good. I look forward to our evening’s sport.”

  Sybilia moved back around the bed, suddenly raising her hands to the collar of her gown. “Why wait until then, my lord? You have not enjoyed my body since our wedding night.” She jerked the cloth downward. “I am ready for you. I always will be. Whatever you wish me to do.”

  He was shocked at how quickly she went from prim and proper to half-undressed, offering herself without dignity to the man she’d thought to fool on his wedding night. She was a woman desperate for him now, it seemed, although two nights ago she gave him to another.

  She tugged her shift down likewise, exposing two high, firm breasts with pale nipples. He signaled her closer. Glancing down at his lap, she must have seen the hem of his tunic lift as his cock hardened again. A small, pleased smile parted her lips, triumphant relief gleaming in her eyes.

  “Kneel before me,” he commanded. “Take my cock in your mouth.”

  She did. Darkly amused by her mute obedience—so different to Deorwynn—he stared down at her bared breasts as she sucked his cock diligently. Her skin was so ghostly pale that a tiny network of blue veins could be traced from her nipple, spreading over the full curve of flesh.

  Suddenly his door opened and Thierry barged in. “I thought I…” He stopped, turned and would have left without a word, but Guy called him back.

  “So much for privacy,” he grunted. “Now you’re here you may as well stay. You can take over in a moment as business calls me elsewhere.”

  Sybilia scrambled to her feet, his crest slipping from her mouth with a loud pop.

  “My lady wife tells me she will do anything I ask,” he said to his friend.

  Thierry was staring at her ripe breasts, his interest evident. He had, of course, told Guy how attractive he thought her on the night she arrived. “Does she?” he mumbled. “Very nice.”

  “Yes. And I’m sure she’ll be equally generous to you. If she knows what’s good for her.”

  The woman made a small gasp of protest.

  Guy reached for his wolf-skin robe. “Now those dewy pink, noble woman’s lips of yours—at both ends—will tend my good friend’s prick to his satisfaction and perhaps I might manage to forgive the massive deception you and your father tried to play upon me.”

  He stood, pulled the robe over his shoulders and limped out of the chamber.

  Chapter Eleven

  Again she disappeared and this time he knew she wouldn’t turn up in his bed later. A hot sickness mounted in his gut at the thought of losing that woman. He yelled at the guards by the gate who were nonplussed by his anger. No one, they assured him, had come in or gone out.

  And then he heard her laughter, coming from the cookhouse. He turned, belting his robe with unsteady hands. Limping, he crossed the yard and jerked open the door. A hot blast of steam hit him in the face, instantly dampening his skin and hair. The place was filled with servants, all busy at work, until the cold air he let in caused them to stop, look over in readiness to complain, and then notice him there. At once they fell silent, heads bowed while his gaze swept the crowded interior.

  “Where is the woman Deorwynn?” he bellowed.

  Someone moved aside and then she was there, stepping into the roaring light of the great hearth. Amid all the
noise he’d heard her voice—he was pathetically attuned to it. The sight of her was so pleasing that he could not speak for a moment. He’d thought her gone. He’d expected, at the very least, that she would hide from him. Neither had happened.

  * * * *

  She ignored the knowing glances of the other servants and hurried after him. Since the scene in the tiltyard, rumors had spread rapidly about his lordship’s preference for his wife’s handmaiden. Pretending he needed her only to tend his wounded leg again, she kept her head high, her expression bland and followed him from the sweltering cookhouse.

  Half way across the yard he turned to face her, his robe swinging around his ankles. He was barefoot, she realized, shocked. He must have come in great haste to find her.

  “You left me before I was done with our conversation.” His breath shot out in a fine mist.

  Going from the stifling heat of the cookhouse to the chill of the yard, her entire body pimpled with goose bumps. The thin layer of perspiration on her skin dried speedily. “I thought our conversation had come to its natural end with the arrival of your wife. My lord.”

  “Never leave my presence again without my permission.”

  Eyes narrowed, she looked at him as he stood there with his hands on his hips.

  “Hmm,” she said.

  That gave him a little of his own medicine, she thought with amusement. She’d heard him make that sound before, several times, and now understood it was his way of seeming to answer a question without actually doing so. It kept the other person on their toes, discouraged further questions on the same subject and made no commitment on his part either way.

  He scratched the disheveled dark curls on his head and looked at his feet. “Thierry tells me he wishes to pay court to you.”

  “Does he?”

  He wiped his hand across his lips. “Will you accept his suit?”

  How could she when she was in love with another man? “Perhaps.”

  “But he is Norman, like me.”

  “Aha, but he is…” she paused, “gentlemanly.”

  “Gentlemanly?”

  “He apologized to me about last night. He explained that none of it was his idea.”

  “Is that so?”

  She put her hands behind her back and leaned toward him. “Hmm.”

  He blinked rapidly. His nostrils flared. “Think you know Thierry so well already, wench?”

  She shrugged, looking away, suddenly taking great interest in the clouds.

  “Come.” He grabbed her elbow. “I’ll show you the true Thierry.”

  “Stop pulling me about!”

  He ignored her, dragging her along in his barefoot, limping wake, while the guards looked on in sheer astonishment.

  They were heading back to his chamber. “Oh no,” she dug in her heels.

  He lifted her around the waist, threw her over his shoulder and continued on. Just before they reached his door however, he took her down a narrow passage and entered an unfinished chamber that ran alongside his. “I made this for my wife,” he grunted, setting her on her feet. “There will be a door between the two chambers once it is complete.” Wind whipped in through knotholes in a boarded up section of wall and late afternoon light filtered through, striping the chamber with a cold, blue mist.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  He drew her to the wall adjoining his chamber and showed her a section of loose stone. Carefully he moved it, so she had a full view of his chamber. There was Thierry, seated on the bed, with Sybilia bouncing merrily astride his lap, her breasts jostling in his face. They were both naked, sweating.

  She would have looked away, but Guy stood behind her, wrapping them both in his wolf-skin robe. “See your precious Thierry now?”

  “Why do you let him do that to your wife?”

  He whispered very softly in her ear, “I am generous. I share.”

  She scowled. So he was trying to convince her to join his frolics in bed with others.

  He kissed her neck, in the hollow just below her ear. She tried to pull away, but his arms were strong around her and she was warm in his bear-like embrace. Already, her body was devoured by his strength and she felt his cock rising against her spine.

  “Do you see how he mounts her? Do you see, Deorwynn?”

  How could she not see? Thierry fucked Sybilia at a rapid, bumpy pace and her head was thrown back, golden hair spilling down almost to her buttocks.

  “As I had you once on that same bed,” Guy whispered.

  “It was not me. I didn’t do it.”

  He exhaled hard, almost laughing. “What did she offer you in exchange for your maidenhead? You may as well tell me now.”

  He kept trying to trick her like this, waiting for her to slip, but she was not the foolish little peasant girl he thought her. Deorwynn of Wexford would not be drawn into a confession by his silky sweet whispers and kisses.

  “Do you see your mistress, Deorwynn? See how her wet juice shines on my friend’s shaft? Are you jealous of her to have all that cock? Are you angry?”

  “No.”

  “But you like Thierry and you do not share.”

  She groaned softly. “Stop that.”

  He held her breasts, fondling her as he looked over her head at the scene playing out in his chamber. “We could join them.”

  “No!”

  “Don’t you like Thierry any more?” he urged slyly. “Perhaps you don’t believe everything he tells you now.”

  She shook her head.

  “Perhaps he is not so gentlemanly after all, eh?”

  “His easy charm misled me.”

  He plucked her nipples gently through her gown and ran his palms across them. “You are naïve. You know nothing of men’s needs.”

  “I know that one man is enough for me and one woman should be enough for …” she stopped herself in the knick of time, “…for him.” Flames tore through her body, as he manipulated her nipples again. She trembled, leaning back, her head resting in the curve of his broad shoulder.

  Sybilia’s gasps and Thierry grunts floated around her as she watched them together.

  “Not for men like us. We can never have enough from just one woman.”

  She frowned. There was the boy again, she thought, eager to show off. The desire to change his mind and prove him wrong about his needs grew stronger.

  “Oops,” he breathed in her ear. “There he goes.”

  Thierry groaned, pumping his seed into Sybilia as she straddled his groin, sweat coating her body. Now Sybilia had someone else to blame for her pregnant state, should Guy not lay with her soon.

  “If you like to share, my lord,” she muttered dryly, “why was it so important that your bride be untouched?”

  “It was not,” he replied, “until I saw you for the first time and assumed you were my bride.”

  Startled she turned her head and found his lips very close to hers.

  “I did not care about a virgin bride until then,” he added.

  “But I thought you insisted on a virgin! She said— ”

  “I cared more about the dowry my wife would bring to me than the maidenhead.”

  She stared at his lips. “Oh.”

  “Until I saw you. In the bath.”

  “Don’t speak of that again. It was a …wicked lapse.”

  “It changed my priorities in a bride very quickly.” His lips touched her cheek. “You wanted me that night when I watched you in the bath,” he whispered. “Admit it.” His rigid cock pressed into her back. If he lifted her clothing and bent his legs he could have impaled her where she stood. “Why now do you fight the desire between us?”

  “I did not know who you were then,” she answered truthfully, closing her eyes, inhaling his hot, manly scent.

  “When I felt your maidenhead that first night, I knew it was meant to be mine—that I would be the one to take it,” he growled.

  “And so you did.” It slipped out of her while she was so distracted by the writhing couple
on the bed.

  He spun her to face him. “Aha!”

  Frustrated with herself, she turned her head away but he held her fast.

  “Tell me, Deorwynn. Say the words. I must hear you say them.”

  It was useless. Of course he knew. He’d probably always known, she realized.

  “You had me on your wedding night,” she groaned, facing him again. “But you knew all along it was me.”

  His blue eyes lightened, triumphant. “Yes. Yes, and by Christ I’ll have you again.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but his lips sought hers, covering them. Her hands came up to push him away, but instead they found his face, holding it, feeling the rough stubble on his cheeks. He ground his lips and teeth into hers, plunged his tongue into her mouth.

  In her side vision, she saw Sybilia climb off Thierry’s lap and kneel over his face while preparing to take his wet cock in her mouth. She was, it seemed, enjoying herself.