Darkness In The Flames (62 page)

“Well, perhaps we should investigate? ‘Tis on our way.”

Rowan nodded, already urging his horse forward along the country road between high, unkempt hedgerows and groves of shadowy trees. The sound was growing louder to his sensitive ears—one person, light of foot, walking slowly toward them.

It was enough to stir his interest. People did not customarily walk alone at this time of night in such places.

“There.” He saw a flicker of brightness moving against the darkness of the night. “D’you see?”

“Yes.” Marcus followed him.

To Rowan’s surprise the shape resolved itself into a woman carrying a bundle. She shrank back into the hedgerow as the two riders approached.

“Ma’am…we mean you no harm.” Marcus spoke reassuringly as they neared her. “Are you in need of assistance?”

Both men stopped their horses a little way away from her. Rowan hoped it would ease any fears she may have.

“I have no money, if you think to rob me.” The voice was defiant, slightly accented—French, maybe.

Rowan smiled. “Certainly not, Mademoiselle.”

She sagged with relief and stepped back onto the road. “Oh
mon Dieu
. Thank heavens.
Gentlemen
.”

Marcus dismounted. “You must be in difficulties, my dear. This is not the best time to walk alone, you know.”

She snorted. “You think I am not aware of that fact,
M
’
sieur
? I would not be walking at all if it were not for that
cochon
…”
She tossed her chin sideways over her shoulder in a gesture of disgust.

Rowan dismounted and joined his friend. “Perhaps we may help you. Will you consent to ride with us a little way? We are traveling south, though…”

She shrugged. “It matters little which way I go. And
oui
, a ride would be welcome.” Dark eyes took in the two men, sweeping over them both, evaluating them. “
Très acceptable
, I think…”

Marcus’ brown eyes met Rowan’s in a gaze of amusement. This was no innocent miss stranded by mistake. Both men realized that fact in an instant of silent communication.

Marcus stepped forward and held out his hand. “If you would do me the honor of mounting before me, perhaps we can take you to a place of safety…”

She considered him, looking from him to Rowan and back again. “My name is Emilie. Emilie Fontaine.” She took his hand.

“Very well, Mademoiselle Fontaine. Let us ride together. ‘Twas fortunate we happened along to rescue you from your discomfort.” Marcus was all gentlemanly politeness as he assisted Emilie into the saddle and swung up behind her.

Rowan couldn’t help but note the expanse of white cleavage showing beneath the woman’s cloak. Her breasts were more than ample and she had no compunction about making that fact plain.

As he remounted, he felt certain that Miss Fontaine was not exactly the soul of purity. Her ankles flashed whitely as she settled her skirts and she smiled across the distance between the horses—a smile of invitation. “May I know the names of my so-kind rescuers?”

Rowan bowed from the waist. “Rowan Selkirk at your service, M’amselle. And behind you is Sir Marcus Camberley.”

“
Mon Dieu
. I am honored indeed to be saved by such noble rescuers. A
jeune femme
can’t be too careful these days.”

Marcus, whose hands were straying dangerously close to the heaving breasts, chuckled. “Indeed, Miss Emilie. One can’t be too careful, these days, can one?” He eased himself closer to her. “May we assume that your previous—er—
host
was no gentleman?”

“
Faugh
.” Emilie almost spat the word out. “He was a
cochon
. A
pig
. He made demands—asked horrid things of me. A man so fat and ugly, with a wife and four children at home too.”

Marcus clicked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk. And you so beautiful and innocent…” His tone was suggestive, although amused.

Emilie laughed back. “Very well, you wicked man. I am not so innocent. And neither,
je pense
, are
you
.” She wriggled against him. “Given the evidence I feel against my back…”

She glanced at Rowan. “You are both fine-looking men. I am in need of—how shall we say—
funds
?”

Rowan waited.

“Perhaps we could make
une arrangement
?
Oui
?” She smiled prettily, a contrast to the suggestion she had just made. “
Moi
, I am experienced. I have served
les aristos
. And…” The dark hair tumbled lightly around her shoulders as she shrugged. “I have enjoyed it. I make no secret of that fact.”

“Good for you.” Marcus’ voice was neutral. “May I ask for whom you have
served
?”

Emilie sighed. “I was employed at FitzAdams Towers until recently. My
Maîtresse
—she is ill now, not to recover they tell me. And
M
’
sieur
Gawain—he is as one dead.
C
’
est triste
.” She shrugged again, the gesture betraying her Gallic roots. “But they also say wickedness comes back to those who are wicked. And,
mon Dieu
—” Her laugh rang out. “Those two were
très
méchant
.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “I have heard of Isolde and her husband. If you worked for them, then you certainly must be—
well
-
educated
in certain areas…”

Emilie giggled. “’Tis
I
who taught
them
a thing or two,
M’sieur
Rowan. Although
M’sieur
Gawain cared little for my lessons. He preferred his h
omme du chambre
, his—manservant,
comprendez
?”

Rowan’s smile was pure and serene. “Yes, I understand what you mean.”

They rode on, Rowan entertained by Emilie’s artless chatter and outrageous confidences. Marcus’ hands were unashamedly cradling her breasts now and the contact seemed to loosen her tongue.

She shared intimate details with them that would have surprised many a listener. Her adventures with the licentious Isolde FitzAdams alone would have made dowagers swoon and ostracized Isolde from the Ton forever had they gotten out into public knowledge.

However, Isolde’s current paralysis had effectively accomplished that, with little or no damage to her reputation. Rowan realized the woman had been spared one fate when another visited her. Sometimes, life provided the best way out for all concerned.

Marcus caught his attention. “Rowan, my horse could use watering and I perceive a stream nearby. Shall we…?”

“Of course. My mount could also use a drink. Come to think of it, I thirst myself.”

A brief nod from Marcus was all he received, but it was enough to tell Rowan that Marcus understood.

Fate had provided a meal for Rowan.

Her name was Emilie and, judging from her recent artless discourse, she loved to fuck. Once again, Fate had delivered the ideal solution for all concerned.

A tug of arousal hardening his cock, Rowan slipped from his saddle and followed his prey as she walked beside Marcus to the stream.

This would be
fun
. Dining under the stars with one’s best friend by one’s side and a willing wench at one’s disposal. Rowan’s fangs broke free, just piercing his gum line. He held them back.

Not yet
.

But soon…

*~*~*~*

The stream proved to be a thing of delight as the waters glittered under the waning moon. The air was warm, the night fragrant and Marcus unhesitatingly stripped off his jacket and shirt. “Ahhh. This is delightful.”

A giggle from behind him told him Emilie agreed. “You have a fine chest,
M
’
sieur
Marcus.”

“Do I not have a fine chest too?” Rowan sounded hurt as he removed his own garments.

“Oh indeed,
M
’
sieur
Rowan. Two such fine gentlemen—I am blessed tonight.”

“Then join us, little Emilie. Come bathe. Refresh yourself and wash the dust of your travels away.” Marcus kicked off his boots and breeches, striding into the water without a blink. He turned back and held out his hand to the woman watching him.

Rowan followed suit. The horses were loosely tethered and drinking their fill. Marcus knew it was Rowan’s time to slake his thirst.

“Oh well, perhaps ‘twould be
refreshing
…” Emilie loosened her gown and let it drop, posing dramatically for a moment clad only in moonbeams and her own white skin. Her breasts were full and heavy, her pussy a dark shadow between her thighs. Then she too stepped delicately into the water, shivering a little as the cool liquid caressed her. “Oh, ‘tis cold…”

“Then let me warm you.” Marcus moved to her, taking her in his arms, rubbing his chest against the breasts bobbing in the water.

Unhesitatingly her arms twined around his neck. “Please do,
mon ami
.”

He kissed her, rough and needing her to bend to his will. She did so without a moment’s check, meeting his demands with fierce mewling sounds and the thrust of her hips against his cock.

“You first, then him? Or both at once?” She breathed the words across the waters as Rowan came up to them and stood behind Emilie. He moved close, close enough that Marcus knew he must be grazing Emilie’s arse with his cock.

“I don’t know. Let’s just do what feels good, shall we?” Marcus found a breast and hefted it into his palm, toying with the nipple, flicking it with his thumbnail.

“
Oui
. Oh yes.
C
’
est bon
…
si bon
…”

It
was
good, realized Marcus. Emilie’s head fell back against Rowan and he bent his head to kiss her as Marcus kept up his attentions to her breasts. Sharing a woman like this, knowing what was to come and how it would be so good for Rowan—these things darted through Marcus’ mind and added to the excitement of the moment.

It had been many years since Marcus had fucked outdoors. Too long, perhaps. He’d forgotten the joys of air against naked skin, of water against his balls, of his cock swaying within the currents of a river.

But then again, he’d never shared them with anybody like Rowan.

Their gazes met over Emilie’s head. Rowan was ready, smiling eagerly, stroking Emilie in his turn.

Was she ready? Marcus slid his hand down over her softly curved belly and found her mound. The hot swollen folds beneath were slick with moisture that had nothing to do with the stream in which they stood.

He touched her clit, delicately teasing it, making her sigh and whimper as her hips stirred the waters between them.

“Oh…oh…
j
’
ai faim
…I
hunger
…”

“So do I.” Rowan’s murmur was low, but Marcus heard it.

“As do I.” Marcus nodded at the riverbank and Rowan gently steered Emilie back toward it. “Let us relax on the grass over there. Where I can truly pay attention to this delicate little pearl…” He tugged quickly on Emilie’s clit then released it, noting her gasp of pleasure.

“Do not wait, my fine friends. Oh
Dieu
, do not wait…” She tumbled onto her back, spreading her thighs wide. “The way you touch me—
please
—
s
’
il vous plait
—I would have more…” She reached for Marcus. “Your cock. Give it to me. Hard and thick, I would have this one first…”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Rowan nodded his agreement as Marcus tugged Emilie to the edge of the river, spread-eagling her on the bank and giving him room to kneel between her thighs. There was sand beneath his legs cushioning him and he was at the perfect height to penetrate her sex whenever he chose to take her.

Rowan lay beside them, leaning over Emilie now, suckling her nipple with strong lips as his hand squeezed the other into a rosy peak.

Her moans and whimpers of pleasure were echoed by the writhing of her hips as she struggled to get Marcus’ talented fingers back to her clit. He obliged, stroking and delving through the wet and heated lips of her pussy, alternating touches to her clit with the sliding of one or two fingers deep into her slick body.

She panted, tiny sobs of ecstasy, as she responded to both men’s attentions. Marcus wondered how long he should wait, how he would know when Rowan was ready. He glanced up at his friend to see him with lips parted, fangs lying whitely against the red of his mouth.

He was ready.

“
Now
, Emilie.” Marcus positioned his cock in her moisture and thrust—a quick sharp thrust that she welcomed with a cry of delight.

“
Aaiyeee
…”

Her sheath grabbed him, tight muscles clamping down on him and tugging at his length as he withdrew and thrust again. He reached for her clit and strummed it in time with his movements, noting that Rowan was once again suckling Emilie’s nipples. Her hand was in his hair holding his head close, even as her thighs were clasping Marcus’ hips.

She was lost in the moment, in the delight of being fucked this way. She sighed and squealed and arched her neck backward as her pleasure rose and Marcus felt the first shudders of her orgasm begin.

“Come, Emilie. ‘Tis a wondrous fuck we have here. Come for us, let us watch you as you shatter. Let me feel your body shake around me, let Rowan feel your nipples as they shiver in his mouth…” Heedless of what he said, Marcus let the words pour from his lips, knowing his own climax was only seconds away.

Rowan was suckling her, cautiously teasing her nipple away from her breast, taking care not to betray the fangs that Marcus knew were now fully extended. The moment had to be right, Marcus assumed.

He’d trust Rowan to know when that moment came.

She shrieked and exploded, a shaking mass of tremors, great spasms rattling her body and her inner muscles clawing at Marcus’ cock with a grip of silk and steel.

Marcus reached down for Rowan, finding his cock lying aroused against Emilie’s body. He grasped it—hard—and stroked it quickly and strongly, wishing for his friend to reach his own climax as well.