How to Train Your Knight: A Medieval Romance Novel (14 page)

He smiled. “She may be starting to trust you.”

“Maybe, but nary a word about how much or if there was even more to be had. You think there is more?”

“Aye, I do.”

He stirred uncomfortably and stopped. They were almost upon the bathhouse. “By God, where’d she hide it?”

“I know not and it worries me fully. Although I’ve been very careful, the coins are solid gold. Not much about them is common to this area. To use them, one needs to pound them unrecognizable. Even so, rumors abound that these pieces have come from her estates.”

“Abernathy. She told me last night she’d recently given something to him to hold off his assaults.”

The priest swore under his breath. “He’s continued to up the price for keeping his men out of the area. He’s become even bolder since the death of Underhill. She may have been forced to give him another coin without my knowledge.”

“We could be in grave danger, here. Be vigilant.”

“Go with God.”

“I hope so.”

Marcus approached Jacob, standing just outside the bathhouse. All the pools were full of filthy naked men. “How many do you count?”

“Two times ten with that many squires.”

“No others lurking about?”

“No, Sahib. That is all.”

“If you see anything amiss, no matter how small, sound the alarm. Understood?”

Jacob nodded.

“That’s a good lad.” He moved to the front of the building and shouted up at the turret where Thomas had taken watch. “Where is she?”

“She remains in her room. Did you deal with the Bishop?”

“Aye.”

Thomas surveyed the town, then shouted down, “What are they after. Surely a bunch of wooly beasts wouldn’t pull the Bishop out from his comfortable estates.”

“No, no. You’ve the right of it. I think m’lady holds the key to her own ruin.”

“And what would that be?”

“Hold that thought. I’m coming up.” Marcus noted with some glee the pigeons were mostly gone when he climbed the turret.

Thomas grabbed his hand when he reached the top. “Yes?”

“She has an ancient bag of gold Roman coins.”

He guffawed. “She conjured a bag of coins? Is that what the bishop came up with? I think he’s lost his edge.”

“It’s no jest. She’s kept hidden a bag of ancient gold and the bishop thinks to torture it out of her.”

“How did he even know of it?” Thomas thought for a moment, frowned, and they both said as one, “Abernathy.”

“Aye. She’s given him at least one coin and no doubt he suspects there are more to be had.”

“How much more is there?”

“Only Ann and the Good Lord know and neither is telling. It makes a man pause to wonder, though.”

“Interesting. And here I thought our trip to marry you off to a murdering shepherdess wench was going to be boring.” He took a fist to Marcus’ shoulder. “I’m not sure whether to thank you or thrash you.”

“Did you know she has a secret passage out of her room?” Marcus started down the turret handholds.

“You may have mentioned that.”

He paused, his head just above the floorboard. “Her room has a back entrance that leads to a tunnel under the manor all the way to the bathhouse. It was apparently built by the original Roman inhabitants.”

“In a siege, no doubt, it was very convenient.”

“Aye. And for wives escaping their husbands. Station another man near the top of the bathhouse fires. See to it that the bishop’s men are properly attended at dinner. Some ale and mayhap lots of it. I’d rather them be inebriated than longing for trouble. While they are all still dopey in the morning, we will send them to a long mass, then wish them well on their journey home.”

Once at the bottom, Marcus put his eye to a slit in the turret. An unrestful nature lay upon his town like a dark cloud. “Make sure you have Stephen clear everything out of the hall except for stone, thatch, and brick and mayhap put yet another guard at the front of the baths. I trust none of the bishop’s bloody mercenaries.”

“It’s as good as done.”

“Very well. I’m going to see to her, then meet you back for sup. Keep the town safely guarded, especially the young ladies.”

“None better lay a hand on Lady Meredith or I’ll gut ‘em from neck to groin.”

“See that it doesn’t come to that. We’re already treading on dangerously thin ice with Edward.”

He lit a torch, then walked down the hall and pounded on the carved wood. “M’lady, it is I. Unbar the door.”

Ann pushed aside the heavy block with a little curse when a sliver bit into her finger. Stepping close to her husband, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head rested against the light wool of his tunic.

“I trust thou art safe?” He pushed her inside, then closed and barred the door.

“Yes.”

“Thank you for staying put.” A rough finger lifted her chin and his lips covered hers.

She nipped at the lower one to stay the intimacy longer. Once she let go, she said, “I had no idea about that bishop. Thomas told me some awful examples of his Christian endeavors.”

“You understand well enough now?”

“Aye. Enough.” The images of torture Thomas had forced into her head made her shiver. “Why would God tolerate such a horrible man?”

“God should not be blamed for the evil of man. You know this better than most.” He squeezed her tightly and some of the evil pictures in her mind’s eye drained away.

“Thank you.”

He smiled and bent lower, to fully capture her mouth. A wave of lust washed over her and she wrapped one leg around his calf. Her core moved magically closer to his rod, drawn to its lodestone.

“Thank me for what?”

It was hard to think with his mouth so close and his shaft so large. “Hmmm? Oh. Yes. For keeping me safe.”

“What else would you have me do, Lady? You’re my wife.” His face was laced with genuine surprise.

“You could’ve given me over to him.” Wrapping back into his embrace, his neck muscles bulged, and his heart pumped against her ear. Somehow she had annoyed him again.

“Why in God’s name would I do that?”

Now it was she whose hackles lifted. “Would it not be easier to be rid of me than to wage war? Time after time, you put yourself and your men in danger for my sake. I’m just a woman; and a side that came with your land grant from the king. You said so yourself.”

“What do I have to do to get you to understand? It’s all different now. I have feelings for you, woman. Strong feelings. The kind I don’t even fully understand.”

“How can that be? I argue with you incessantly.” She pushed away from his chest so she could watch his responses better.

There was true fondness when his hazel eyes regarded her. “Step back into my arms. As close as you were to me last night.”

She did as he asked and he tucked her between his legs and cocooned her body with his. After a moment, he said, “Don’t you feel safe?”

She pondered his words. “I simply don’t think I know what safe feels like. Certainly, right now, I’m safe. With you.”

“I’d have you feel like nothing could ever harm you.” He sighed, inhaled deeply, and combed his fingers through her hair.

“You ask too much.” But she lied. At that moment, all was warm and safe and wonderful.

“I’ll take care of you, if you’d just let me.” His arms tightened as he pulled her more closely into his body. Then his lips found hers and his tongue claimed her mouth. She reached her arms around his neck and kissed him back; pushing her hardening breasts against his broad chest and feeling the heat grow between her legs.

He made a low growl in his throat. “By all that is holy, I’d go through fire and brimstone to keep you with me. A lifetime will nay be enough.”

He stepped away, and his eyebrows creased as if in pain, after taking one more kiss. “Right now, though, I need to go downstairs and see to it those ruffians don’t destroy our home. You need to stay put.”

“I vow to you. I will.”

“See that you do.”

Much later, he rapped on the oak. “Wake up and unbar the door.”

“I’m not asleep. Who could sleep even for a wink with all that ruckus?” She rose up from under a fur by the fire and put her mechanism book aside.

“Hold off.” She poured some grease from one of her candles onto the wood that barred the door. “There,” she said with some pride. “I fixed it.”

He laughed when the wood block slid without sound or effort. Entering quickly, he latched the door behind him. “I came back as soon as I could, but the bishop’s men have a never-ending thirst for mead.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat that Ann had come to learn meant an annoyance of the purse.

“Fear not. We’ll have more mead in the making soon. High summer is when honey is plentiful.”

The candles picked up a gleam in his eye. He moved closer and put a kiss on her lips. “And now, witch, you fancy that you read minds? Can you guess what I’m thinking now?”

She laughed, took his hand, and led him to the pallet. She stepped onto the wood frame and rose onto her toes. With her lips now at the same height as his, she laid siege upon his mouth. He tasted not of mead, as she anticipated, but of cook’s jams. As he’d taught her, she let her tongue play swords with his.

The first round went to her, but then he moaned and retaliated. His amazing large hands grabbed her just under her ribs and his thumbs caressed the nubs of her hardening breasts. She gasped for air.

“Ah, sweet Ann. You can’t imagine what it does to me when I know you want me as much as I do you.” He lifted her up to press against his staff.

“Have I been woman enough for you?” She giggled.

He took her wrist and guided her to feel under his tunic. “I think we should put that fallacy to rest, once and for all. Come and let me test your womanhood to see if I can stand up to it.”

“Would you like me to help with your boots again?” A bit bold, she knelt on the pallet with her head just in front of the bulge under his tunic.

“Aye, that would be fine.” He sat and raised one leg for her.

She reached much higher than necessary, then slid her hands down the coarse hair of his legs until she reached his boot. She untied the laces and pulled. Even higher she reached for the second. Her husband watched, eyes wide with centers blackened.

“And your sword?” Her hand drifted over his throbbing rod while unbuckling the frog that held his sword. “And your shirts?”

He lifted his arms and she stood on the pallet’s edge to pull off his tunic and linen shirt. She couldn’t help, but let her hand caress over his body to the arrow shape of hair that started at his navel. Stopping at the base of his thick pintle, she leaned over and kissed him, and her magnificent beast moaned.

“I must get your knives now.” She went to her knees and untied the weapons on his thighs. She caressed his large appendage, and his face tightened as if in pain.

“Did I hurt you?” She removed her hand quickly.

He groaned and placed it back. “It is unearthly pleasure. Pray continue.”

Bending forward, her fingertip caressed the sides of his rod and the silkiness at the tip. A bead formed and she tasted him. As he had done for her the night before, she licked him, and played him with her tongue.

“Oh, God. Take it completely into your mouth. It is exquisite torture.” He dug his hands into her hair as he pulled her closer.

Interested, she took the length of him in and gently sucked as her huge warrior shuddered. His pintle expanded more fully. How could such a little touch bring The Beast so?

“Maybe thou art a witch. Never have I experienced anything like this. Enough play or my seed will go to waste.”

Lifting her arms up over her head, he tugged off her tunic, then her chemise. It took some doing, but finally he undid the leather ties holding the three sheaves, and her knives clunked on the floor. Effortlessly, he drew her up by her armpits and placed her on her back, opening her legs fully.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the entrance of his rod, but instead felt another kind of invasion.

“Marcus?” She peeked. In the flickering light, his eyes gleamed and a half-smirk spread across his face. He blew between her legs.

“The battle has shifted, my Lady, and you must endure the assault.” As he put his skillful tongue to work on the soft folds of her flesh, he chuckled. “Oh, yes, and you will surrender.”

Her derriere muscles clenched and her ears rang as she strained to find paradise. With her back arched, she opened her legs wide, and waited for the final touch that would send her on her way.

Rolling onto his back, he brought her astride, and she sank onto him. “Ride me to heaven, Lady,” he commanded. They met each other again and again, thrust for thrust, until she screamed.

His seed filled her with a final plunge and a shout. She pushed on him several more times to feel his still-throbbing pintle echo pulses to her own as their bodies slowly called a truce. She fell onto his chest; to the racing drumbeat of his heart.

She woke when he pulled out, ever so slowly, rubbing against the sensitive area. A heavy arm draped across her midsection and rough fingertips drew circles around her navel.

“When did you give Abernathy a Roman coin?”

“Hmm?” Heavenly clouds still swirled around in her mind’s eye.

Tickling her side, he said, “Wake up. You’ve made all of your accounting quite clear in your little ledger. I found out what you did.” His tongue laved her breast and it hardened.

She gasped and he laughed. “Time to tell me all your secrets or I shall torture you all night.”

“So now you want my gold? That’s what this is all about. My first husband comes with a whip, and you with your wonderful ways.” She laughed, too.

“My wonderful ways? Do you mean like this?” He raised an eyebrow, blew on the dampness he’d left on her breast, and nipped. It tightened, hardened, and a line tugged down to the folds between her legs.