Muriel’s Adventures

by Barron, Melinda

  She shook her head violently.

  “Do it,” he commanded.

  “Sir?” It was the porter, and Ewan smiled down at her. “Take me in your mouth while I talk to him,” he said, his voice low.

  She shook her head again and he glared at her, a look that both excited and angered her.

  “Do it,” he commanded.

  “Sir, may I come in and turn down your bunks?”

  Ewan’s cock hardened, something she’d never seen happen right after he’d had an orgasm. She licked him gently, then as excitement took over she pulled him back into her mouth.

  “Oh my God,” Ewan said.

  “Sir?” The porter’s concern came through in his voice. “Is everything all right? Do I need to come in?”

  “No,” Ewan said in a strangled voice. Muriel continued to suck him. She loved that he seemed to be out of control right now. He grabbed her hair again, so hard that she almost bit down on him.

  “Sir?” the porter called out again.

  “My wife is already asleep,” Ewan said. Muriel loved the strained tone of his voice. She had caused it, and it made her feel powerful, in control. She knew Ewan was too far gone to pull away from her and stuff himself back in his trousers. Besides, this was what he wanted, to do things in a public place where there was every chance they would get caught. It excited him. And, truthfully, it excited her right now, too.

  “If we continue to make noise we will wake her up,” Ewan said, his words coming out in a hiss. “Please, I appreciate your concern, but we’ve taken care of things.”

  “As you wish,” the porter said, although he sounded very skeptical.

  “You minx,” Ewan said as she continued to work her mouth on his staff. But then he laughed, and when he came it didn’t produce much for her to swallow.

  He crumbled onto the seat beside her and said, “That was almost painful, but it was fun.” He shook his finger at her. “Here you were worried that someone would find us doing something naughty and when the porter showed up at the door you wouldn’t stop.”

  “You had your hands in my hair and you kept me in place,” she said with a laugh. “What do you think the porter thought? I wonder how many times something like this has happened to him? Do you think he had any idea we were having sex?”

  “I think he was suspicious,” he said. “I’m sure he sees many different things in his job. It would probably make a good book as a matter of fact.”

  He sat up and looked at her. “In fact, there is every chance that Phee and her Magical Merlin were on this very train. Come on, let’s clean up and then I’ll go in search of him. He might be able to tell us something.”

  They used the water that had been provided for them earlier.

  “Try to look like you’ve been asleep,” Ewan said.

  “That won’t be hard,” she said with a snort, which she knew was very unladylike. “You’ve made a mess of my hair.”

  He took a blanket out of the cabinet and tossed it to her. She covered herself up and then nodded.

  She sat back on the seat and watched as he opened the door.

  “Excuse me, could we get another blanket? My wife is awake and she’s cold.”

  “Of course,” the porter said.

  Ewan shut the door and seconds later there was a knock. The porter opened it without waiting for them to tell him to come in. He offered Ewan a blanket and then started to go leave.

  “Wait, may I ask you something else?” Ewan said. He gave Muriel the blanket and she unfolded it. She didn’t want him to know she was listening, so she went about putting the second blanket over the first.

  “What else do you need, sir?” the porter asked.

  “Just information,” Ewan said. “My wife’s cousin might have been on this train in the last few days. She and her, well her lover, ran off and my wife’s uncle is desperate to get her back before any damage is done to her reputation.”

  “Many people take this train, sir,” the porter said.

  “They would have been a couple, in their mid-twenties.” Muriel watched as Ewan reached into his pocket and pulled out a bank note. She couldn’t see the amount, but she could see the porter’s eyes widen.

  “What did the young lady look like?” the porter asked, his gaze fastened on the money.

  “Early twenties, pretty, long blonde hair,” he said. “The man with her would have been almost thirty, also blond.”

  The porter shook his head, and looked sadly at the money, as if he knew it wouldn’t be going from Ewan’s hand into his pocket.

  “Phee might have wanted to hide her identity,” Muriel said. She’s not sure where the idea came from, but it just popped into her head. She might have worn a wig or dressed in widow’s weeds.”

  The porter’s eyes widened. “Did you say Phee? I only ask because the name is so unusual. There was a young woman, blonde, who said her name was Phee when she introduced herself. But she was alone. There was no man with her.”

  “Clever,” Ewan said. “Traveling separately would mean if someone asked, like us, it would not draw attention to them.” He handed the porter the money. “Thank you for your help. My wife’s uncle will be very happy with our findings.

  When the man was gone, Ewan cuddled up next to her.

  “We know we’re on the right track,” Muriel said. “Where do we go from here?”

  Ewan leaned his head against her shoulder, and then he moved the blankets so that they were covering both of them. He yawned, and she smiled. She knew his strength was waning from the two orgasms he’d just had.

  “Well, the first thing we’ll need to do is find lodgings,” he said. “I’ll ask at the rail station. They will be able to point us to a place that is not too expensive, but is not a rat’s nest, either.”

  “And then I think we should find a lending library,” she said. “Sometimes historians work there, and we will be able to ask questions about Arthur, and from there be able to glean things about Merlin, too.”

  “Good idea, my love,” he said, right before he yawned. “But first, lodgings. After all, we’ll be here for a while and we can’t sleep in the park.”

  “When we ask the ticket seller about lodgings we should tell him we’re supposed to meet a friend here. We can describe Phee and see if maybe she asked him the same thing. Maybe Raef is having her do most of the work, I mean talking to people and such. He might not want people to recognize him. I wonder if he’s been in this area before and caused problems.”

  “Good idea…” His words drifted off and Muriel fought back a laugh. He hadn’t heard a word of what she’d just said. If she continued to probe him with questions, continued to make plans he might wake up and give his opinion. But she decided to let him sleep.

  But she was too excited to sleep. They’d just had incredible sex, and they had new information that let them know they were on the right track, that, hopefully, they would find Phee quickly. But when they did how hard would it be to get her to go back to London with them?

  If, heaven forbid, she and Raef had married, it would be impossible. She wondered how long they’d known each other. She wondered if Raef had filed for a license. If so, it probably would have come in by now and there was every possibility they were man and wife.

  Of course, if they were she wondered why they were traveling separately. Muriel yawned, and as she did so she made a mental note to ask the porter if Phee had been wearing a wedding ring when he saw her. Something told her he was the sort of man who noticed things like that. And if he didn’t, a little bit of money might just jog his memory.

  Chapter 18

  They found lodgings at the Black Grouse House, located near the center of town, which Muriel thought was just perfect. The porter, who was called Mr. Jameson, suggested it. He said a friend ran it. The landlady, Mrs. Wiggins, was near to fifty, but she was one of the friendliest people Muriel had ever met. She giggled like a schoolgirl as she took their payment, watched them sign in, and then showed them to their room.
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  “You’ve missed breakfast, but I will set out a light repast to tide you over until lunch,” she’d said as she’d pulled open the curtains to their room. “We have one other guest, Mr. Husley, who is searching for his family roots, or so he says. He’s at the other side of the house, so you’ve got this part all to yourselves. Freshen up, come down, and then we’ll talk.”

  When she was gone, Muriel went to the window and looked out. “It’s a beautiful town, very medieval. Is the castle here associated with Arthur?”

  “I’m not sure,” Ewan said. He sat down on the bed and bounced. “Nice mattress.”

  “Too bad the station clerk hadn’t seen Phee.”

  “It would have helped,” he said. “But don’t you think it’s strange she told us to come down and we’d talk? Talk about what? Do you think she suspects something, or knows something?”

  “What makes you say that?” she asked. She sat down next to him and did a little bounce of her own.

  “I have it in my mind that Raef Montgomery is not working on his own,” he said. “I think he’s part of a group.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  He flicked his tongue over his teeth, which was a sure sign he was thinking of something, pondering it deeply. She knew he wouldn’t say a word until he had it sorted out in his mind.

  “Ever since Vernon Robson-Jones said that Raef Montgomery wanted to find the sword and use it to overthrow the government I couldn’t help but think he wasn’t working alone.” He paused and sighed heavily. “One person does not try and take over a government. He needs allies. He needs people to help him find what he wants and achieve his goals.”

  “How do you think we should find these allies?” she asked.

  “Well, by tracking Phee,” he said. “Bangor is the largest city in this district, but there are many smaller ones. I think we need to be careful with her. There’s part of me who thinks it was not just luck that the train porter knew Phee.”

  “You’ve never been this paranoid,” Muriel said.

  “I have a very bad feeling,” Ewan said. “It started when I saw the porter this morning. He had this smirk on his face that showed my money had not been well spent.”

  “Do you really think?”

  “Consider it, Muriel,” he said. “Hundreds of people take that train every day. And he remembers one woman?”

  “Phee is an unusual name,” she said. “He would have made note of it, or at least I think he would have. I don’t think he’s lying.”

  “He sent us here, and now she wants to talk,” he said. “Be very careful about what you say. Don’t mention Phee at all. Tell her we’re here on holiday, to see the beautiful countryside.”

  “It is beautiful,” she said. “Maybe while we’re talking we can bring the subject around to Merlin, and the sword. But we need to put her at ease first. If so, maybe she’ll let something slip. That is if your suspicions are correct.”

  “You don’t agree with me?” he asked.

  “I think you’re being paranoid.” She squeezed his knee.

  “Shall we make a little wager?” he asked.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  He took her hand and placed it on his cock. “If I win, we fuck in the park, with you on your hands and knees, where there will be no doubt in people’s minds as to what we are doing.”

  “At the risk of being imprisoned?” Muriel got up and walked to the window. “That’s insane.”

  “Those are my terms,” he said. “You can choose what you want. You don’t have to do it now. Give yourself time to think it over. If you agree to the wager it will be intriguing, don’t you think?”

  “I think it will get us into trouble,” she said. “I don’t agree with your plan.”

  “You’ll change your mind,” he said.

  “Doubtful,” she said.

  “Perhaps we should make a wager on that, too,” he said. “Five pounds says you change your mind.”

  “What, no stakes that I’ll have sex with you in the middle of the museum? Perhaps amongst the mummies?”

  “Now you are being ridiculous,” he said with a laugh. “Let’s go down and talk with our hostess. We play well off each other, I think. Do you want to lead, or do you want me to?”

  “You take the lead,” Muriel said. “I’ll follow along.”

  “Thank you, my love,” he said.

  He followed behind her as they went down the stairs and found the dining room where Mrs. Wiggins had set up what Muriel thought was more than a little repast. There were platters of eggs, toast and sausages. There was also a pot of tea. Their hostess poured them each a cup while they filled their plates.

  “Such a beautiful home you have,” Ewan said before he tucked into his food. Muriel knew she wondered if that was his subtle way of starting the conversation she was supposed to follow.

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Wiggins sat down with her own cup of tea. “I’ve been here for some twenty years now. I love Wales. It’s so beautiful.”

  “It is,” Muriel said. “I hear there are quite a few lakes around here. We might want to see a few of them during our visit.”

  “The lakes in this district are stunning,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “You should see Llydaw, Dinas and Ogwen.” She took a sip from her cup and then looked around as if she wanted to see if anyone was listening to them. “All three lakes claim to be the place where the Lady of the Lake rests with Excalibur.”

  A shiver ran up Muriel’s spine. Perhaps her husband was right. Maybe, just maybe, this was some sort of a scheme into which they were being drawn. But if that is true, what was the point? She hated to think that Mr. Robson-Jones was somehow setting them up in this intrigue. If he was, that meant Mr. Holmes was also involved, and the idea angered Muriel. She didn’t want to think her employer was a bad person leading them down a dark road.

  “Arthur was in this area?” Ewan asked

  “Oh, yes,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “He’s the main draw for tourists in this region. In fact, Mr. Hulsey, the other guest here right now, believes his lineage dates back to Arthur. That’s why he’s here, to trace his family heritage. Imagine that.”

  “Tell me, Mrs. Wiggins, do you believe Arthur was a king? Do you believe in the Knights of the Round Table? If so, which castle do you think he used as head of his kingdom?”

  Ewan posted the questions in rapid fire, and Muriel was sure he’d done it on purpose, to try and trip her up. She would be so busy trying to figure out which question she should answer first that she might, inadvertently, let go of information that could help them.

  “Of course, I believe,” she said. “Arthur was a noble man and he led with grace and dignity. Of course, there was his lovely Guinevere. A love story for the ages.”

  Ewan took another drink, and then cleared his throat. “Of course, everyone knows she strayed with Lancelot.”

  “Disturbing lies,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “Stories made up by authors with no basis in reality. A smear on the name of a good man.”

  “A good man who followed a wizard,” Muriel said. She took a bite of her sausage but watched as a cloud passed over Mrs. Wiggins’ face.

  “You’re not one of those, are you?” Mrs. Wiggins asked. “If you are you can pack your bags right now and be gone. In fact, don’t even eat any more food. Just go.”

  “One of what?” Ewan asked. “My wife meant nothing bad. We just finished a tale where Merlin helped Arthur’s father, Uther, impregnate his mother, Igrayne.”

  “Myths and lies,” the woman said. “I’ll ask again, are you one of those people?”

  “Which people?” Muriel asked.

  “Those who are in search of the sword,” she said. “They’ve been all over the area for the past few months.”

  “Why?” Ewan asked.

  Mrs. Wiggins huffed in indignation, and for a moment, Muriel thought she wasn’t going to say anything more. But then she said, “It’s a long story, and I’m not sure I want to tell it. Go down to the Whistling Tree and
find Mr. Pregarin. He will tell you.”

  “Who is Mr. Pregarin?”

  “His family has lived here for centuries,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “Rumor has it one of his relatives was an actual knight, and he fought with Arthur. He also went in quest of the Holy Grail.”

  “Will he speak with us?” Ewan asked. “Is there a certain word I need to use to get him to open his mouth?”

  Mrs. Wiggins laughed. “Just continue to fill his cup and his mouth, when he’s not swallowing ale, will be working to tell you everything. You’re not in search of the sword, are you?”

  “No,” Ewan said. Muriel waited for him to continue, to explain they were searching for a woman who might have something to do with the whole situation, but he didn’t.

  “Disgusting people, they are,” she said. “They have no use for the actual history of the thing. All they want is the sword, which they think will bring them riches. They think it will actually put them in charge of the country. Disgusting.”

  “I heartily agree,” Muriel said. “But your reaction seems much more than that. May I ask if something happened that put you off people that are in search of the sword?”

  Mrs. Wiggins drank some of her tea before she put her cup on the table. “My late husband was a historian. I moved to Bangor after I married him. He was a professor for the university.”

  She stopped talking, and Muriel could see tears in the woman’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve touched on a sore subject,” Muriel said. “You don’t have to continue.”

  Mrs. Wiggins took another drink of her tea, then said, “He was killed, more than fifteen years ago by a man who stole his research on Arthur, on the possibility that the sword is hidden in the hills above town.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Muriel said.

  “Every few years a new group of people show up and try to find Excalibur,” Mrs. Wiggins said. “It’s all rumor, of course, folklore, really. Mr. Pregarin will tell you that he thinks it’s true, that someday someone, somewhere will find the blade and say it gives them the right to the throne. Of course, anyone who did would be thrown in prison.”