Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

Hands all over her. . too many, sliding, caressing, cupping. . large, dark ones on her white breasts, lifting, stroking. . a swarthy face bending to cover her lips again, blocking her view as someone drew her knees wide. The brush of his silky hair over her legs, on the sides of her thighs as he bent there. . teasing, taunting, as she lifted and rocked her hips, desperately seeking completion, her mouth filled with a slick hot tongue, devoured by hungry lips.

Her quim opened, ready, hot, and wet. . then a dark head at her breast, sucking long, hard. . pulling away and then slipping a strong tongue around and over the tip of her nipple so that she gasped and arched and writhed.

But strong hands held her hips, her knees wide. . elegant hands, and she could see the top of a blond head bending between her legs. . the swipe of a tongue that sent her twisting and careening under the large dark hands that held her shoulders, pinning her to the bed. She couldn’t see. . She could only feel the delicious assault on her body. . sleek, slick strokes at her mouth, at her quim. .

She cried out, restless; she lifted and twitched and begged. . and suddenly there was John, his dark face rapt and intent. . and she felt the stone wall behind her, scraping rough over her back and buttocks as she struggled to free herself from the manacles.

Her wrists and hands were fixed and John moved closer, kneeling at her feet, his fingers sliding in and around her swollen quim, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her thighs. . his lips thick and moist and red, moving forward to cover her mound, his tongue sliding strong and delving deep as she looked around and saw Robin, and Will. . watching.

… Watching with avid eyes, full lips, as John licked and sucked on her, forcing her into the rough masonry, scraping her skin as she struggled to get free. . to find release as the prince teased her, pushing her to the edge and then stepping away to leer and laugh at her as she writhed and moaned, pleading for more.

And then he fell on her again, driving his tongue deep into her until she cried out, begged. . and then he stood to cup her breasts and torture them, with long dragging pulls, sucking her nipples hard and sending painful whorls of pleasure as his fingers slipped inside her.

And then they were gone. . all of them. ’Twas only darkness and a cold room, and she hung helplessly from the wall, the manacles heavy and tight on her wrists, her ankles. . her pip swollen and needy, her body humming and desperate, her breasts sore and tight and heavy. .

The insistent knocking on her chamber door drew Marian from the depths of her dream.

“My lady, can you be awake?”

Groggy. Heart pounding.

Marian forced her eyes open, banishing the images. She rolled to the side, aware that though the dream had gone, she still throbbed between her legs as if John and Robin and Will truly had been there, their lips and hands on her.

“Ethelberga!” she said crossly. “Enter.”

The maid came in and Marian blinked, trying to dispel the remnants of the arousing, disturbing dream.

“Where did you go last night?” She sat up, becoming aware that the sun was high enough to indicate that she’d missed Mass. And she smelled a tinge of smoke in the air.

“I am very sorry, my lady,” Ethelberga said, and at that moment, Marian saw through the doorway that Lady Joanna waited in the antechamber. “I received your message to await you in the hall, but you did not come, and it became very late and at last I returned to here. When I did, I found you already returned and well asleep.”

Marian had opened her mouth to flay her maid for her irresponsibility, but now she closed it. Robin. It had to have been Robin who had sent Ethelberga away so that he could wait for her within. Clever, but he was still a fool. . he who had not expected Nottingham to be with her upon her return.

What had he thought would transpire, meeting her privately in her chamber?

The insistent throbbing between her legs, the memory of his hand sliding expertly there as he pressed her against the tree. . she had no reason to wonder what he had hoped.

When her mistress didn’t speak, Ethelberga took that as permission to continue. “My lady, I only woke you because Lady Joanna be without.”

“I can see that,” Marian replied a bit tartly. Still shaky and trembling from a dream that had felt much too real, she knew nevertheless that now was the time to rise. Glancing out the window slit, she saw that something seemed to be burning beyond the keep’s walls, which explained the strong smell of smoke. “Joanna, I shall be only a moment.”

“Hurry, Marian,” Joanna said, her voice urgent. “Do you make haste-we must go see. They say he is burning the village!”

“Who?” Marian gestured sharply to Ethelberga, who closed the door a bit and hurried into the room to dig through her trunks for a bliaud and an overgown-a task that should already have been done. Pressing her lips together in annoyance, Marian slid from the bed, acutely aware of the pressure of her legs over her swollen quim.

“The sheriff! They say he is burning the village. I cannot believe it!”

Marian stilled, absorbing her words. Will was burning the village? No. He couldn’t. Why?

A blast of disappointment and then anger washed over her-and then she wondered why she should be so shocked and appalled. She knew what he was, whom he was loyal to. Why would she expect anything different?

Moments later the two women hurried out into the bailey, where a groom had their saddled horses waiting. A black billow of smoke curled from Ludlow Village beyond the bailey’s gate, giving credence to the rumor that the blaze was no small incident.

Marian and Joanna rode quickly through the throngs of people, the villeins shuffling away from their path.

As they approached the crowd that had gathered along the main thoroughfare of the village, the first thing Marian saw was Will, tall and imposing in his saddle, towering over everyone about him. He watched the proceedings impassively, holding the reins easily in his lap as the black curls of smoke filtered around him.

He appeared powerful and implacable, just as he always did. But Marian was struck by the memory of how he’d looked last night. . that moment of vulnerability or. . something. . when she’d lifted their joined hands. That moment of tangled gazes, the remorse and shame and anguish she saw there. . it seemed at such great odds with this unfeeling, emotionless. . cruel. . man.

Villagers had gathered and watched with dumbstruck faces streaked with dirt and smoke. What had been three houses along the main road roared with flames, the heat so fierce that the thick crowd was forced to stand away from the hot, wavering air.

“And the cooper’s house as well,” Will ordered, lifting an imperious hand to point at a fourth structure, which had a sagging roof and wide cracks between the boards. A mean hovel, barely inhabitable. Marian had noticed it the day before, as they rode out for the hunt.

“But they are so poor,” she cried to Joanna. All soft thoughts about Will had evaporated. Now she knew who he was. “And he takes away what little they have! A blackhearted man.”

Her companion appeared fascinated, rather than revolted. “He is a frightening man, but methinks he does what must be done to keep the villagers under control. He has instilled fear in their hearts, and they dare not naysay him. ’Tis best that they are cowed and do not seek to rise above their stations. They do not wish to pay the taxes that are due, and ’tis incumbent upon the sheriff to support the tax collector.”

“But see how poor they are! One cannot squeeze water from a dry rag no matter how hard one twists it!” As her father’s only heir and a landowner herself, through her husband, Marian knew of the gentle balance between managing the land and those who worked it, culling what it could yield without destroying those who would reap the harvest.