Peregrine's Prize (8 page)

"Very thirsty," he said again in a
plaintive voice, which was spoiled by the wicked grin he sent her.

So was Maggie. She almost ran down the stairs, thankful
the house possessed one of the newfangled closed stoves, which allowed her to
heat the thick potato and barley broth quickly. As she stirred the food, her
mind wandered back to what Nash told her. That someone seemed to have taken the
bait, and had been followed on the road to Monksseat. So far no move had been
made on him, and men from Perry's department were keeping a watching brief. All
they could do was wait.

Maggie owned she was not the most patient of people,
although over the previous months, her attempts at patience improved through
necessity. However she was getting tired of the subterfuge, and to be honest, of
the ever present fear in their lives. Why people wanted to harm their homeland
she could not comprehend, and it was imperative to stop any plans in that
direction.
 
However, why did it sometimes
feel as if all the stopping was up to those close to her?

The night outside the window of the kitchen was
dark, as cloud scudded across the moon, and generated shadows that danced across
the garden. There was enough of a breeze to make the trees that surrounded the
house shake their branches and create eerie shapes that reflected on the
ground. Maggie glanced outside as she cut thick chunks of the bread Nash
brought with him, and waited for the broth to be ready. If she was of a
fanciful nature she'd have said at least one of those shadows appeared human.
It stretched across the tiny strip of lawn, long and menacing, and moved toward
the house.

Maggie put the loaf down, and grabbed the knife firmly
in her hands. With her heart in her mouth and her skin damp, and she bit her
lip to stop her teeth chattering.

It was the worst feeling ever, not knowing whether
to investigate whether the back door was locked, or keep checking the shadow
through the uncovered window.

The screech was so sudden and so un-human that she
screamed, and dropped the knife, which clattered harmlessly onto the flags
under her feet. Her pulse jumped and for one awful second Maggie couldn't
breathe.

Outside an owl flew past the window, the moon came
out from behind the clouds, and the garden looked peaceful and tranquil. Maggie
reached for the back of a sturdy kitchen hair and held on until her heart rate
slowed, and her head stopped spinning.

Just an owl, no bogeymen,
nothing untoward.
How
then didn't she believe it?

She shook her head, and then did check the door was
locked and the heavy bolt pulled across. A sizzle and the smell of burning hit
her, and she turned to see the broth bubbling over the edge of the pan and
dripping onto the hot metal of the stove. Maggie yelped and dashed to the
stove, grabbed a thick woolen cloth and lifted the heavy pan up and away from
the heat. The aroma of singed potatoes and metal was stifling. Nevertheless,
under no circumstances could Maggie bring herself to open the door or the
window and let the stench out. She blew across the top of the pan and waited
until the broth stopped boiling and once more simmered and then put it down on
a thick wooden block.

Idiot, stupid, imagining
menace at every turn.
 
She bent to pick up the breadknife from the
floor and wash it before she poured some broth into a bowl.

"Maggie?" She whirled round and the knife
missed Perry by inches. He held onto the doorjamb and blinked, before he pulled
the knife out of the wood a few inches from his head.

"You didn't like our fucking? You prefer food
and fight?"

She laughed shakily, shook her head and rubbed her
hands with the dishcloth. "You startled me, and my nerves aren't as steady
as I thought. I'm sorry, I burned the broth, but there's plenty left. Why are
you down here?" She noticed the white lines between his eyes.
Silly man.
"Oh sit down before you
fall down." She took his arm and pushed him into the chair she'd used as a
prop.

"I like the idea of fu … fucking and food. The
fighting is fine as long as it's to decide who’s on top," Perry said
ignoring her question. "And the only falling is onto a bed with you."

The words were enough to send messages to her quim,
for her nipples to harden to the point of pain, and her juices to coat the top
of her legs. The pictures in her mind sped her pulse up and her body heated
with the flames of arousal.

"Yes, well, for now it's food." Maggie
ignored his chuckle and placed a bowl of steaming broth in front of him. "Eat
this."

"Then we can negotiate?" He bent his head
to the bowl. "This is excellent. My compliments to the chef."

She giggled. She'd nearly said she'd pass the
message on before she realized that was a sentence Perry would be sure to query.
Instead she smiled and filled another bowl and carried it over to the table and
sat next to him.

For several minutes they were both quiet. Maggie
hadn't realized just how hungry she was until the aroma of the broth hit her.
It seemed fear didn't diminish her appetite for anything.

There are an
awful lot of 'f' words flowing around my mind at the moment.
She
giggled and choked on her mouthful of potatoes. Her eyes began to stream, and
she coughed as Perry thumped her back. By the time she could breathe again, he
was on his knees and looking up at her in concern.

"Maggie love, are you all right? Here, let me
get you some water," He levered himself upright, and turned toward the large
covered jug which Nash thoughtfully filled at the pump earlier. She tugged on
his arm.

"Sit down Perry G…Cotton before you fall down.
Damn not only did I nearly slip up, I used another
'f;' word. Will I go through Johnson's Dictionary of them all before we finish …
Argh.
Maggie bit her lip. "Please Perry, I'm fine. Eat your food, and
then let's go back to bed."

"Not until you tell me why you choked. You had
nothing in your mouth, and even when you do, you don't choke, you swallow."
He grinned and Maggie giggled. He was incorrigible.

"And you know that how?" She turned her
back on him and filled two thick pottery beakers with water.

"Ale?" Perry asked a hopeful note in his
voice.

"In your dreams my l … love. Adam's ale until
you recover." She put the vessels down. "Get used to it."

"Hmm, only when you tell me what you keep going
to call me." Nevertheless he bent his head and supped again. "And I
tell you what I've remembered."

"Wretched man, you've recovered your
memory?" She put her spoon down and stared at him.

He shook his head. "Sadly no, but I have a very
vivid picture of you bent over me, my cock filling your mouth and milking me
until I'm spent. It's enough to have me looking forward to a repeat
performance. Just to check my memory isn't faulty, you understand." He paused
and his eyes widened. "Oh hell, Maggie, it
was
you, I'm certain. I can feel your lips on me, remember the way
you curved your lips over my prick, and your teeth grazed me oh so carefully.
It was heaven. Then I turned you over and took you in my mouth and … and tell
me I'm right."

Maggie was certain her face became the color of the
poppies that grew in the fields around them. "You're right. It seems your
memory is very selective."

"Well let's say I'm beginning to remember the
important things in life." He put his spoon down. "First and foremost
that I need to be inside you once more." He took her hand and Maggie went
with him willingly. There were more important things than food, and it seemed
Perry was of a like mind.

"Where?" she asked as he walked at a speed
she wouldn't have thought possible a few hours earlier.

"Where do I want to fuck you?" He began to
tow her up the staircase. "Everywhere, in your cunt, your ass, whatever
pleases us both. Now that I am hazy about."

 
"I meant
what room," Maggie said, with as much dignity she could muster when her
skin tingled and she found it hard to breath. She wasn't at all hazy about
their preferences. They meshed perfectly.

"Everywhere. But we'll start in here."

Perry opened the door to the bedroom they'd vacated
such a short while earlier. "I think we'll start as I mean us to go on.
Strip and lie face down with your arse in the air."

Chapter
Eight

Well that was going on with a vengeance. Maggie
might wonder if Perry was able to do what she rather suspected he had in mind,
but to hang with the doctor and Nash's softly, softly, approach. If Perry
wanted to play in a way they both loved who was she to complain. Maggie
reckoned he was old enough and sensible enough to stop when it all became too
much for his weakened self.

"Now Maggie." His voice compelled,
demanded even, and Maggie's core throbbed with the need to do as he dictated. "Unless
you want your arse tanning … No that is no punishment. Perhaps I say unless you
want me to withhold your completion?"

She shuddered as she stepped out of her dress. That
punishment had been used before to the detriment and then ultimate enjoyment of
them both. Of course he noticed and he chuckled. "Ah, is that more like it?
It will all come back to me I'm sure. What I do remember is that I'm the leader
here."

What is it about a
bump on the head that brings the caveman out in a normally rational male?
Although in all
fairness, Maggie happily accepted Peregrine was always in charge with regards
to their sexual activities, even when he let her be. It might not suit some people
but for their loving assignations it suited them both perfectly. Outside of
those times they tempered it to suit whatever circumstance dictated.

She looked over her shoulder as she put her knee
onto the bed in preparation for doing as he said. "I remember," she
said and could have cursed at her stupidity. To remind him that she was privy
to things he wasn't was a cruel thing to do. Luckily he chuckled ruefully.

"And I do not. But I will … oh by all that's
holy I pray I will." He stayed silent for a second, and she used the time
to get into the position he asked of her. As the silence stretched to a point
where she almost turned around to check he was still awake and not comatose on
the floor, a hand—a large familiar male hand—caressed the globes of her arse.

"You will tell me all if this state of limbo
continues past the point I can't bear it won't you?" One finger stroked up
the soft cleft between each rounded globe and teased the puckered hole there.
He might have consciously forgotten her, but his mind knew what worked to send
her pulse soaring and her body shivering in anticipation of what was to come.

"Won't you, love?" His fingers stopped
moving and she moaned in disappointment as she dithered how best to answer.

A sharp smack on each arse cheek made her gasp and
squirm. His laugh was low, full of promise, and made her juices gather. This
was the Perry she remembered. For each two smacks, he caressed her. For each
caress his finger teased inside her that little bit more.

"Won't you?" His hand stilled and he began
to remove his finger one tantalizing tiny movement after another.

"Y … yes, yes of course." She'd promise
anything for him not to stop.

When he bit she came without warning. Her composure
shattered, her cunt muscled tensed and relaxed and wave upon wave of stinging
sensation bounced through her. How she didn't fall onto the coverlet and grind
her nub and nipples to aid her release she'd never know. Probably only the
ingrained desire to do as he demanded stopped her.

She cut her scream off by biting the coverlet, and
his hand began to connect in earnest. Each stinging touch reverberated through
her and sent a fresh spasm of juices from her channel and over her quim. Maggie
flew, and her world shook.

"You came." He teased her cunt with one
hand even as he spanked with the other. "I didn't say you could. How long
can you last now, love?" The stinging thwacks stopped so suddenly she rued
the loss as if someone severed her lifeline. Maggie groaned as Perry ran his
hands over her sore—nicely sore—arse and up her spine, and followed them with
tiny nipping kisses. When he reached the nape of her neck, she began to pant.
Truly to be touched in such a way almost sent her over into the abyss once
more.

"Roll over." He removed his hands and she
did as he asked, wincing as the silk of the bedcover slid over her sensitive
skin.

Perry must have seen her wince for he paled and took
her hands in his. "I have hurt you?"

"No, No, not hurt. Stung in a good way."
He looked doubtful. Maggie speculated on the best way to reassure him. It
seemed there were some parts of their lovemaking that hadn't come back to him.
She glanced pointedly at his cock, which lifted the shirt he wore and stood out
proudly, glistening with his juice.

"Your cock seemed to enjoy it," she said
softly. "Your breathing isn't regular, and your body is flushed. Are you
telling me we shouldn't do something we both enjoy? You gave me a command and I
couldn't follow it. You punished me in such a way I gained my release over and
over. Yes my arse is sore from your attentions but in such a way I would weep
if it didn't receive them. We decided," she hesitated, but she had to
continue. "
We
decided this was
how we wanted to love each other. With you in charge and giving us our releases
as you desired. Sometimes you would tell me to do as I thought fit, other times
you demanded my obedience. It is what we chose Perry.
We.
" Again she emphasized the word. "We chose to do. And
my arse may be sensitive now, but who knows where will join it. It brings us
both such pleasure I would be bereft without such attention." Maggie knew
fine how that felt. For so long she hadn't had any contact with Perry, and her
body—and mind—missed him. She hoped and prayed those long lonely times were
about to come to an end.