The Knights Elemental

THE KNIGHTS ELEMENTAL An Ellora’s Cave Publication, February 2004 Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc. PO Box 787 Hudson, OH 44236-0787 ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-806-5 Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned): Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML THE KNIGHTS ELEMENTAL © 2004 SAHARA KELLY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Edited by Briana St. James. Cover art by Syneca Featherstone.

THE KNIGHTS ELEMENTAL Sahara Kelly

Sahara Kelly

Chapter 1 The enormous bed was practically obscured by a tangle of limbs. A sensual moan crept from the throat of the woman whose mound was being caressed, and another sobbed her pleasure as a dark man eased his huge cock between her arse cheeks and plundered her darkest secrets. Next to them, a woman suckled and laved another cock to its full height, and a fourth woman straddled a man’s blonde head, setting her cunny above a willing mouth and a very able tongue. The group writhed and gasped and whimpered its pleasure, a sight of decadence and lust that would have sent shudders of shock through the virtuous residents of the small keep, had they been privileged to observe it. Finally, one woman collapsed with a shriek, limbs shuddering and breath coming in gasps as she attained her peak. The woman straddling the blonde man was next, and a firm hand slipped beneath the woman whose arse was glowing with the strokes of the dark-haired man’s cock. That hand found exactly the right place, and rubbed. Another scream pierced the gloom within the bed hangings. As the women succumbed, the two men found their own pleasure. A harsh face softened for a moment and with a groan, he released his seed, gripping the firm white buttocks and closing his eyes as the tremors spread from his balls to his spine. With a sigh, the man next to him finally let go. The woman holding his cock lowered her head even further and moaned as he spurted deep into her throat. His blonde head tossed on the pillow and his hips rose to catch the motions of her tongue as he drained himself dry. At last the group subsided into a heap of sweaty, sated flesh, soft kisses and murmurs penetrating the darkness within the chambers. There were times when being a knight was not altogether a bad thing.

***** They rode on either side of Lord Benstede like a matched set of chess pieces. Strong, sitting their mounts comfortably, and to all intents and purposes enjoying the sunshine. Sir Guy and Sir Gilles. The Knights Elemental. It was a nickname given them several years ago when they had teamed for a battle that had been fought and won in glorious, if elementary, fashion.

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Since then, they had formed a deep friendship, and had traveled together throughout the country, bringing fear into the hearts of the unjust, and joy to the bosoms of many women. Sir Guy Northbridge lived up to his reputation as a man cold as the north wind— his hair was raven black, and his eyes the stormy gray of the North Sea during a gale. His face was harshly male and his expression stern, lightened only occasionally by a twinkle of humor. Women sighed for him, and lusted after him, and those that were fortunate enough to share his bed told tales of a man who took boldly and gave much, leaving exhaustion and a smile behind him. But always leaving. Sir Gilles deSoleil, on the other hand, was a complete contrast. His sandy blonde hair reflected the sunlight, his bright blue eyes sparkled with merriment, and his lips were permanently creased into a pleasing grin. His women sighed with pleasure, cried when he left them, and vowed they’d never find another like him. The Knight of the Sun, they called him. But he always left too, making him a perfect companion for the North Wind with whom he rode. It seemed that nothing could tie these two handsome knights. Not soft kisses, nor heated couplings. They took what was offered, relished it, and moved on. And fought like true warriors when the occasion demanded. Many an enemy had cringed at the sight of the fierce gray gaze that glowed beneath an equally fierce helm, and others had blinked as the sight of a savage smile from a pair of suddenly icy blue eyes was the last thing they ever saw. Yes, unquestionably, these two men riding silently beside their liege Lord had deserved their sobriquets. The Knights Elemental. The North Wind bringing a cold breeze that made a woman’s flesh shiver in anticipation, and the Sun, making her body heat and her cunnikin throb with longing. Neither of the women watching this parade of magnificent male flesh was thinking along those lines, however. And of course the knights weren’t thinking of them in any way at all. It was hard to think about someone who was observing you from halfway up a tree. “Linnet, don’t let them see you.” The hushed whisper came from a lower branch, and Linnet Aylmer drew herself back further behind the lush foliage. “Don’t worry, they can’t possibly know we’re here from this distance.” She settled her breeches-clad buttocks more comfortably into the crotch of the branches and stared at the party making its way along the lane. “How do they look?” “Faugh, Mechele, just as we expected. Two pampered knights, and a fat old Lord between them. A baggage train, a couple of squires, servants—nothing of import.” “But the knights themselves?”

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“They’ve got good shoulders on them, but with all that finery it’s hard to tell how much is man and how much is padding. And I can’t see their faces. I’d be willing to bet my best chaplet they’re just another pair of arrogant hangers-on, traveling on their reputation and their conquests, naught else.” The party was swallowed by the curve in the lane, and Linnet slid carefully out of her tree perch, brushing off her backside and nodding with satisfaction. “If Baron Lymington thinks to send his liege Lord over to ‘discuss’ our tribute, then we have no problems. Lord Benstede looks to be a fat and lethargic man, I suspect. Ply him with food and ale, and we can send him away happy.” “And the knights?” Mechele’s hazel eyes reflected her concern. Linnet snorted. “From what I’ve heard, they would probably be too busy bedding our maids to worry about the tribute. Men of such repute seldom ever have the brains to match their cocks. Don’t worry, Mechele. From what I saw, they pose little, if any, threat to Maltby.” Mechele sighed in relief. “Good. Let’s go and reassure Sir Dunstan, then. He should be awake after his nap by now. It will be good for him to know there’s nothing to fear from this particular quarter.” With these reassuring words, Mechele Trenowyth hugged her cousin Linnet Aylmer, and the two women retraced their steps through the forest to their home, Maltby Abbey.

***** An elegantly gloved hand moved slightly on the reins, and in response to the slight gesture, both knights pulled ahead of their Lord on the narrowing lane to ride side by side. “Did you see them?” “Yes. Two of them, I suspect. In the tree to the far left of that pasture.” Guy nodded. “Local lads, I’ll warrant. Eager for a glimpse of our Lord and his train.” Gilles stretched his spine. “Faith, I’ll be glad to reach Lymington’s home. My arse is starting to complain about all these journeys. Too many long days in the saddle with nothing to keep our interest.” Guy snorted. “If you disregard the—how many maids was it—in that last keep we visited?” Gilles chuckled. “They were all willing, Guy. We had a fine tumble. And if I recall, you had no complaints.” A reluctant grin spread over Guy’s harsh features. “No. I had no complaints.” “Well, God willing, we can ease more than our arses tonight.” Gilles smiled too. 6

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Lord Benstede reined in slightly and beckoned them to his side. “See yon house?” he asked, nodding across the fields to where a large wooden structure was nestled into a hillside. The two knights followed his gaze, slowing their mounts. A patchwork of neat fields surrounded the building, and several tidily thatched cottages lay scattered in the area. The lanes were well-tended, and the whole picture was one of rural tranquility, lazing comfortably under the late morning sunshine. “That’s Maltby Abbey,” said Lord Benstede. “And that, apparently, is why we’re here.” “Doesn’t look like trouble,” said Guy, narrowing his gaze and taking in the layout of the settlement. “Looks quite pleasant to me, too,” added Gilles. “All I know is that Lymington called for our help with this place. I suppose he’ll be more forthcoming when we meet him. And Saints, I confess to hoping this journey will end soon, and that the Baron’s hospitality includes a good meal.” Guy and Gilles exchanged identical chuckles. Their liege Lord certainly loved his table. But it was an affectionate chuckle, nevertheless. They had ridden at this Lord’s bidding for many months now, and had come to respect the shrewd intellect that was well-concealed beneath his portly and unprepossessing exterior. “Probably where those two lads came from that were watching us earlier,” he added. Gilles grinned. “Didn’t know if you saw ‘em, my Lord,” he said. “I may be slower than you two, but my eyesight is still as sharp as ever.” “Never doubted it for a moment, my Lord,” said Guy. Something in his tone sparked a huff of laughter from Lord Benstede. “Yes. I’m sure. A good and politic answer, Guy. You’re learning.” Guy raised one eyebrow in question. “Knights must learn to wield their tongues as skillfully as their swords, lad,” advised Lord Benstede. “Oh I doubt that there’s a problem with our tongues, my Lord,” said Gilles cheekily. Lord Benstede turned his amused gaze to Gilles. “Of that I have no doubt. Even I have learned of the prowess of my two knights. The satisfied smiles and tears we seem to leave behind in each town we visit cannot, unfortunately, be attributed to my departure.” Both knights laughed in self-conscious embarrassment. “‘Tis a matter of pride, eh lads? Love the ladies and leave them smiling?” “Always, my Lord.” Guy’s answer was so affirmative that a grin spread across Lord Benstede’s face from ear to ear.

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“I wish I had your stamina, boys. Nowadays, I’m afraid ‘tis the lure of the table that makes my heart beat faster.” He suddenly remembered himself. “That and the company of Lady Benstede of course.” “Of course,” agreed Gilles respectfully. “And methinks that our journey’s end is in sight, my Lord, so your heart may now beat faster at the prospect of a good meal, and ours at the thought of a good hot bath.” Guy nodded ahead to where the lane opened wide onto a grand estate. The fields were busy, workers digging, weeding, scurrying to and fro with wagons of various supplies, coming and going from the large gray stone building that lay a short distance away. “Looks like it might have been a keep, once upon a time?” Gilles studied it carefully. “Probably. But it sprawled out into this town we see. I understand this part of the country has been spared the worst of the battles that plagued us a few years ago. There have been a few reports of roving bands of thieves, but not much else. Can’t think of anything too dangerous or difficult about this visit. Perhaps it will be a welcome respite for all of us.” Lord Benstede clicked up his mount and moved off with a sprightly trot towards their destination. Guy yawned. “Faith. Just what we need. Another round of diplomacy, politicking with the locals, and country maids.” Gilles nodded, looking bored. “I doubt that there will be much to challenge us here. Just another case of showing our faces, flashing our swords for the fascination of the natives, offering the support of our presence to the Baron, and we’ll be done.” Their sigh was mutual. Sometimes, being a Knight Elemental was no fun at all.

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Chapter 2 “My Lord, brave knights, welcome, welcome… ” Baron Lymington beamed and spread his arms wide as if to embrace the incoming party of guests. Gilles felt his gut tighten. He hated the obsequious nature of such greetings, and it looked as if Baron Lymington had the art of arse-licking down to a tee. “Our humble abode is graced by your presence. And your trusty knights. Welcome gentlemen. ‘Tis a happy day for our home to have such nobility and courage within.” Guy’s lips curled in distaste, and Gilles could read his friend’s mind as clear as day. It was a trait they’d discovered within each other—this ability to sense the other’s emotions with a mere flicker of expression. It had bonded them more closely than the fiercest battle, and once again, Gilles blessed the day that he had found himself next to Guy. Almost closer than brothers, they had shared much in the way of adventures and Gilles knew that he’d gained so much more than just a trusty sword at his side. Theirs was a deep and abiding friendship, tempered with loyalty and a great deal of respect. A respect which, unfortunately, did not extend to their host. Gilles pasted his polite smile onto his face, and watched as Guy’s lips tightened into their customary forbidding line. They followed the Baron into what had once been a Great Hall, but had now been converted into smaller apartments. The high-beamed entrance hall was all that was left of the original keep. “I have ordered rooms prepared for you, and a meal shall await you as soon as you are bathed and settled.” Baron Lymington summoned his steward, a shadow of a man who scuttled to do his Lord’s bidding. Gilles and Guy found themselves occupying a huge chamber abovestairs, and had no complaints about the accommodations, only the host. “An effusive man,” muttered Gilles as he shed his travel-stained and dusty clothing. “Not one I’d care to live near, that’s for sure,” agreed Guy, sinking into one of the two wooden tubs that faced a huge fireplace in the room. He sighed as the warm water swept his limbs. “At least he has hot bathwater,” he murmured. Gilles, busily sinking into his own tub, simply sighed.

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Thus, the two clean and relaxed knights found themselves seated later that evening in Baron Lymington’s chamber, enjoying a flagon of ale and listening to the man as he related his tale of woe to Lord Benstede. Glancing around him, Gilles noted that the man clearly spared no expense when it came to his own luxury. Far off in the shadows was a mammoth bed, hung with a fine damask tester, and the wall hangings matched it in elegance. The floors were polished smooth, and the windows, through which he could see darkness falling, boasted well-mounted glass panes. Glowing wooden chests and bureaus lined the walls, and a fine fur rug lay before the Baron’s fireplace. “Will Lady Lymington be joining us this eve?” inquired Lord Benstede. “No, my Lord. She passed on to her just reward nigh on seven years ago. There is no Lady Lymington. Sad, but there we are.” The Baron idly waved a hand. A moment was spent in silence, honoring the departed, but clearly not mourned, Lady Lymington. “So, my Lord, I am going to have to ask for your assistance in the matter of Maltby Abbey,” said the Baron, turning to the subject at hand. Both Guy and Gilles pricked up their ears at that sentence, having lost much of the conversation earlier as it involved mostly effusive compliments and niceties, which were neither to their taste nor their interest. “And how may we assist you, Baron?” asked Lord Benstede, leaning back in his chair, replete at last after a fine meal. “Well, perhaps I should explain the situation first.” “That would help,” muttered Guy. He ignored a glance from his Lord. Guy too had noticed the richness of the room in which they were sitting, and had reached the same conclusion as Gilles. Baron Lymington was not shy when taking care of Baron Lymington. He knew that Gilles probably had taken the measure of the man right off, just as he had, and that they would share a mutual distaste. “Maltby Abbey.” Lymington sighed. “‘Tis a thorn in my saddle, my Lord.” “It looked a fine and tidy property?” encouraged Gilles. Guy mentally cheered his friend. Thank the Lord for Gilles. With his encouragement they might reach the point before midnight. “Oh it is that, Sir Gilles. And as such, it has been assessed the regular amount of tribute that would fit such a profitable place. My problem is not with the property itself, but the owner.” Guy leaned forward. “I believe your messenger to our Lord spoke of a Sir Dunstan something-or-other? An elderly man, if I’m not mistaken?”

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“Quite right, Sir Guy. Quite right. Such a sharp mind. Equaled only by your sharp sword, I daresay, haha?” Guy restrained the urge to retch. “Go on, man,” said Lord Benstede. “Oh—er—yes. Sir Dunstan Trenowyth. Man has to be the wrong side of eighty summers. He bought the place from the Swanns several years ago after some scandal or other befell that family and they decided to move on. Of course, at his age, he let the property slip for a while, and the fields failed to yield what they should have, and so on. I was almost ready to offer him my assistance… ” Guy flashed a look at Gilles. Take the place over, more like. Gilles caught the glance and nodded slightly. “Until those two women arrived.” Guy found his attention caught. “Two women, sir?” “Aye, lad,” sighed the Baron, forgetting his manners in his clear distress. “Two harpies, two amazons, two bitches from hell, in my opinion.” Guy leaned back, interested now, in spite of himself. For a man to describe a woman thus, in his experience, meant one of two things. Either she was the ugliest sight this side of Medusa, or she’d spurned him. “And what did these—harpies—do?” asked Gilles. Guy grinned. His friend was also noting the words, however only a light in his blue eyes betrayed him. “Turned the damned place around, Sir Gilles. Completely around. Within one season, Maltby Abbey was in fine fettle, fields plowed and sown, orchards pruned and blooming, and their honey? Well, I’ve never tasted the like.” Lord Benstede pursed his lips. “I fail to see a problem with all this, Lymington,” he said quietly. “The problem, my Lord, lies in the tribute.” The Baron frowned. “It had been assessed at a low rate because of the poor state of the fields and the land. We meet your Lordship’s set amounts, and use the normal methods of setting such a sum.” He nodded sagely. “Of course, as the fields began to yield and the crops improve, we increased the amount of tribute appropriately. But these last two years, we have not received the correct amount due.” Guy raised an eyebrow. “And you attribute this lack to the women?” The Baron snorted. “Every bit of it, Sir. Those two wenches have managed to work their way around each and every demand. Oh, I gave them a fair chance. Even dropped the first year’s tribute back a little. But they wailed their excuses about a poor winter, lack of fodder, illness amongst the field workers, that sort of complaint.” He frowned.

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“No matter what I did or who I sent, the tribute was always returned lacking the increased totals. My messengers were received politely, and sent packing with a meal under their belts, but no coin. My demands have been met with courtesy, I’ll say that for ‘em, but no results have been forthcoming. Damn, I even offered to wed one or t’other of the wenches, and that offer was turned down flat. Can you imagine?” Guy could imagine very well indeed. It didn’t take a man of science to figure out that these ‘wenches’ would want nothing to do with a man of Lymington’s ilk. His interest was growing by the second. “Wed one, Baron? So they are of marriageable age?” asked Gilles curiously. “Yes, Sir Gilles. Oh, a bit long in the tooth, since both are widowed. Cousins, I heard tell. But still young enough to breed lusty sons for me. And to give pleasure in the getting… ” he chortled to himself. Guy’s gut tightened, and he banished some very unpleasant visions from his mind. “Have you tried to back up your demands with some…shall we say…forceful encouragement?” asked Lord Benstede. “I have tried everything, my Lord. I went myself to Maltby Abbey not six weeks ago, accompanied by my finest squires, and in full armor too.” Guy watched Gilles suppress a snicker as the image of Baron Lymington trying to be impressive while corseted into armor flew through their minds. “They weren’t particularly welcoming on that occasion. Refused me even a simple meal. Damn near ordered me off their land. Their land. It’s rightfully Sir Dunstan’s, and he holds that only by my sufferance. Uppity bitches.” The Baron rose and paced the floor. “Since then, I’ve tried to employ a strategy that will force them to turn to me, and thus ensure that I receive the tribute in payment for my help.” Guy snapped to attention, disliking the sound of this announcement. “What strategy might that be, my Lord?” he asked quietly. “Well,” the man had the grace to look embarrassed. “I thought that if there were a few ‘problems’ for them, they might turn to me here at Lymington and ask for assistance. I’m sure you know the sort of thing. A hayrick burned. A field unfortunately blighted, and some trees felled by a terrible storm.” A sadistic grin crossed the Baron’s thick lips. “I must confess that last was a stroke of brilliance. We get some fierce storms hereabouts, and just before the last one, I had my men weaken several of the trees in their orchard. Did the trick very nicely. I’m sure you gentlemen must approve of such tactics. Are they not similar to those you’ve used yourselves in battle?” He looked with vain pride upon the men surrounding him. “We’ve never battled with women or an old man, Sir.” Gilles rapped out the answer, taking almost the very words from Guy’s mouth.

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“Of course, of course. I certainly never implied such a thing, Sir. Merely that I based my approach on military ideas, such as those which must occupy two such mighty and successful knights.” He fawned on the two knights who fought individual battles themselves against their bile. “I take it,” said Lord Benstede, with a quick frown at Guy and Gilles, who were rapidly approaching their boiling point, “that so far, none of your ‘stratagems’ have worked?” The Baron sighed. “Not a one. They have repaired the damage, even seducing away some of my own workers to help. And Maltby Abbey continues to thrive, continues to fail to meet its tribute, and I am helpless to do more because Sir Dunstan is the man in charge, and the bloody bugger won’t go and die, like anyone his age should. Once that happens, of course, I can take the whole place.” Guy and Gilles squared their shoulders in identical gestures of distaste, pulling back from the man speaking such appalling words. “So why not wait until that sad time? ‘Twould seem that a man of his years cannot last much longer,” said Lord Benstede equitably. “Hah. ‘Tis what I’d hoped for, but the damned old sod seems immortal. Nay, my Lord. I cannot wait longer. Action must be taken, and now. Before the harvest, before the crops are brought in, and while we can still assess how much more should be added to their balance due.” Lord Benstede sat back in his chair and stared at his knights. “Gentlemen. Any ideas?” Guy and Gilles looked absently at each other, busy with their own thoughts. Gilles’ eyes narrowed and a small smile crossed his face. “It strikes me, my Lord, that perhaps some information about Maltby Abbey might assist us in determining just what the situation is over there.” Guy grinned. “Would you be able to spare us for a fortnight or so, my Lord?” “You two?” Benstede raised his eyes in surprise. “You don’t usually get involved in such minor disputes?” All three ignored the huff of outrage from Baron Lymington, who clearly disliked his situation being referred to as a “minor dispute”. “True, Lord,” answered Guy. “But it has been a long journey, and both Gilles and I are ready for a little action. I’m thinking that perhaps Maltby Abbey might be in need of… ” “Two stout lads, recently discharged from their military duties and looking for work,” finished Gilles. Guy nodded. “Exactly. As workers, we can easily take a better look at what is going on over at Maltby. No one would think that such men are aught but what they seem. We can find out exactly how wealthy these people are, why they don’t pay their tribute, and then perhaps, assist them in changing their minds.”

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“And get a bit of exercise into the bargain,” added Gilles. Lymington huffed again. “You’ll not be getting your ‘exercise’ with those two women, that’s a certainty. Cold and frigid, I’m told. As befits their widowed state, of course,” he added. Guy and Gilles exchanged a look of pure mischief. Melting the cold and frigid into the hot and welcoming was one of their specialties. Suddenly, this visit didn’t seem quite so boring after all.

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Chapter 3 The wildflowers grew abundantly towards the sunshine in the small pasture not far from Maltby Abbey, and the two women lying amidst them were enjoying the rays as they swept over their naked skin. Linnet Aylmer turned on her stomach and ground her hips into the earth. “Faith, Mechele, such a day stirs the juices in me,” she sighed, as she rubbed herself against the grass beneath her. Mechele’s hand was caressing her breasts as she sprawled beside Linnet. “‘Twould be good to share such a moment with a man, I’m thinking.” Her voice was husky and within moments her hand slid to the soft blonde hair that covered her sun-warmed mound. There was no more conversation for a time, until the buzzing insects were disturbed by soft cries of pleasure as the two found release in their own manner. Sighing, Linnet turned over again, and flopped her arms out beside her. “I would not be averse to a fine cock entering me once again, I’ll admit. But ‘tis what’s attached to it that bothers me.” Mechele laughed, stretching languorously. “Well, as long as we have moments like these, I’ll not complain. Unless that idiot Lymington tries for another round of his exorbitant demands.” Linnet snorted and rose, slipping her kirtle over her head and gathering her long chestnut hair back into its customary knot. “Next time, you’ll be the one to turn down his offers. Marry the man, indeed. As if that would be the answer to all our problems.” Mechele laughed again and gathered her own clothes about her. “Well, telling the man you’d as soon marry a midden for muck was scarcely the act of a gentlewoman, Linnet,” she scolded lightly. “You can’t blame him for getting upset.” “It was nothing but the truth, so help me. If I take another man to husband, and I doubt that I ever will, at least he’d be halfway attractive to me, and promise some fiery bedsport. Not just a quick and selfish fuck. I’ve had that once, and will not have it again. Ever.” Mechele nodded, undisturbed by her cousin’s blunt language. She knew much of her cousin’s unhappy marriage, but not all. There were some hurts that only time could ease. For her own part, she would be happy to bed a man again, but wished for someone who would treat her like a woman this time, not a fragile flower. She sighed. There were passions buried deep in both of them. Perhaps it was those passions that had driven them to make Maltby a home of which they could both be proud. 15

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“Mistress Linnet…Mistress Mechele… ” A young voice called to them and within moments a mop-topped youngster bounded through the flowers. “Sally, over here,” waved Mechele, watching as the young girl found them and grinned, showing off her gap where two adult teeth would soon break through. “You’re wanted at the house. There’s two men come looking for work and Sir Dunstan is napping… ” Mechele and Linnet smiled at each other. Dear Sir Dunstan. Eating, napping and fussing in his herbal were his joys in life. They wouldn’t have him any other way. “We’ll be right there, poppet. Run along and tell Edwin to take them to the paddock,” said Mechele. “Two men?” Linnet raised an eyebrow. “Rare that two men should be seeking work at this time of year. I would have thought that nearer harvest time would have been more likely.” Mechele paused, thinking about that statement. Neither she nor Linnet lacked intelligence, indeed they’d needed their wits about them a lot recently, given the unfortunate series of problems that seemed to be plaguing them. “Well, it won’t hurt to talk to them. Let’s see what they have to say. Perhaps one of them might offer that fine cock you were yearning for a while ago,” she chuckled. “Oh, faith, Mechele. A field worker? He’d have to have a mighty fine plow to come near my furrow!” Exploding into laughter, Mechele followed her cousin back to the lane and Maltby Abbey.

***** Linnet paused in the shadows of a tree for a moment, just looking at the two men who were chatting with their steward. Mechele ran right up behind her and nearly bumped into her. “What’s afoot, Linnet?” She raised her hand and pointed. “Well, well,” she breathed. Mechele stood next to her, clearly as taken aback as she was. Linnet had her own criteria for measuring a man, but these two surpassed even her standards. Both were tall and broad of shoulder, with hair that tumbled onto their jerkins. The dark one seemed quiet, and reserved, and his friend was doing most of the talking, gesturing with his hands and making the steward laugh at some jest. “Look at that black hair,” breathed Mechele. “And those legs,” she added.

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“And the blonde one, he’s all smiles,” whispered Linnet. “My, what a chest on that one.” Her gut twisted and she turned her back on them, slinking back further into the shadows. “Mechele, these are no workers looking for a job. Damn. These are the two knights we saw. I’ll bet my best hairbrush that they’ve been sent by that ass Lymington.” Mechele’s eyes narrowed. “‘Twould fit the pattern. Learn about us from the inside, then sabotage everything and force us into the Baron’s grasp. That bastard… ” Linnet pulled at her lower lip in thought. “Perhaps we can see these two off, as well.” Mechele glanced at her cousin. “I know that look. You have a plan, don’t you?” Linnet’s sparkling eyes caught the sun and flashed golden. “Well, I’m thinking that pampered knights won’t relish getting their hands dirty in the piggery. Nor will they enjoy mucking out the stable. Or any one of the other hundred or so filthy jobs our people will be happy to forgo for a little while. They’ve strong backs and strong arms, or so it appears, why not put them to some real hard work?” Mechele grinned. “Oh yes. I like it. And if it gives us a chance to see them stripped and naked so much the better. After all, if they work for us…” she let her voice trail off suggestively. Linnet smiled wickedly. “Our thoughts are as one, Mistress Mechele. Would you care to precede me?” She swept a curtsey and watched her beloved cousin as she moved towards the huddle of men. Dear Mechele. Married so young and widowed too soon. It was a stroke of fate that had brought them together, but it was their need for friendship and affection that had cemented them into a unit. Gripping her skirts, she stalked behind Mechele and noticed three heads turn as they approached. “Greetings, travelers. Welcome to Maltby Abbey,” said Mechele politely. Linnet tried not to stare as she met two pairs of eyes head on. From a distance they’d been impressive. From close up they were magnificent. She found herself drawn into a sunny blue smile. “My Ladies,” he bowed elegantly, only to receive a subtle nudge in the ribs from his friend. “Mistress,” nodded the dark one, watching Mechele like a hawk sighting its prey. “You are looking for work, I understand. This is surprising. Two men of your strength and—manners?” Mechele challenged them head on. Linnet waited, expressionless, for their reply, aware that the blonde one was watching her intently, so intently she could almost feel his gaze.

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“We are recently discharged from our Lord’s service, Mistress,” said the dark one in a deep voice. “We decided to travel for a while and work for our keep as we go. ‘Tis pleasant to see this land at peace. We enjoy it.” The words were ordinary, but the man was not. Linnet knew her first reaction had been the correct one, and from the way Mechele was responding, she’d caught on as well. “And what could you offer in the way of skills? Two strapping lads such as yourselves would be an asset to our land, that’s for sure. Have either of you ever plowed?” Linnet nearly choked, but held it back, knowing she was still under study by those damnably blue eyes. “Are you familiar with work on land such as this?” she asked in her turn. Both men nodded. Dazzled by the gleam of sunshine on the two heads, Linnet blinked. Faith, these two were a devastatingly attractive team. “Indeed, Mistress. We are not afraid of hard work, and from time to time have both had cause to find our way around a farmstead. You need not be concerned about our abilities to be of service.” The blonde one smiled and Linnet felt the day brighten. She must really put up her guard against this one. “Your abilities to service our maids might cause a problem,” she said snappishly. “We are a genteel estate, so if that’s your intent, you might as well move on right now.” A dark eyebrow rose and a light chuckle followed as the blonde shook his head. “You need have no fears on that score, Mistress.” Both dark eyebrows soared at that comment, and the blonde colored slightly as if he’d realized the implications of what he’d just said. “Not that we ’re…I mean we’re not… ” he waved his hand at his friend and stuttered helplessly. Mechele smothered a giggle. “Good thing, too. Such a waste if that had been the case.” The dark eyes turned on her again. “I’m flattered you think so, Mistress.” Damn, he purred. No other way to describe it. Linnet gathered her scattered wits. “Very well. We can always use extra pairs of hands. You may start by mucking out the stables. You have already met Edwin our steward… ” she gestured at the elderly man leaning quietly against the fence. “He’ll show you where you can sleep and where to find the tools you’ll need.” The two women turned away, only to be stopped by a word. “Mistress?” It was the blonde one who spoke, and directly to her. Linnet felt his eyes spear through her clothes to the skin beneath. And damn if that traitorous body

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didn’t respond. Her nipples budded hard, quite without her permission, and a stirring in her loins surprised her with its intensity. “May we not know your names?” Linnet swallowed past the dryness that had suddenly encompassed her throat. “I am Mistress Linnet Aylmer. This is Mistress Mechele Trenowyth. You are now in the employ of Sir Dunstan Trenowyth of Maltby Abbey. I trust that is satisfactory?” “For now.” The dark one almost whispered the words, and Linnet could feel Mechele tremble beside her. She grabbed Mechele’s elbow and pulled her away, returning to the house in almost unseemly haste. These two were much too disturbing for her peace of mind, and Mechele seemed affected too. Damn, damn and damn. Another complication they could both have done very well without.

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Chapter 4 For the next few days, two battle-hardened men found muscles they had forgotten they’d possessed, as the Maltby Abbey estate required much hard manual labor. “By the Saints,” hissed Guy one night, sinking neck deep into the small pool they’d found and appropriated as their bath. Gilles simply groaned. They’d plowed and mucked and fed and watered, fixed an elderly hand pump so that water flowed once more near the main house, and today, to add insult to injury, they’d been set to weeding the vegetable and herb garden. For the two tall men the constant bending had been agony. They were now sore, tired, a little warm from the constant heat of the sun on their bare backs, and very much irritated. For they’d seen scarcely a hair of the two women who had brought them here in the first place. “I would sorely like to have Mistress Mechele scrubbing my back right at this moment,” muttered Guy as he rubbed at his skin with a handful of leaves. “I’d rather have Mistress Linnet rubbing my front,” grinned Gilles. “With hers. Naked.” The latter comment was unnecessary, since Guy had met that wicked smile with one of his own. “It’s good we have different goals, my friend, but methinks it’s past time when we set a few plans in motion to attain those goals.” Gilles nodded emphatically. “I swear if I catch sight of her skirts as she darts around a corner one more time, I’m going to come in my breeches from the wanting,” he agreed. “Such a fine figure of a woman, that Linnet. All cold and busy on the surface, but I’ll bet you my best warhorse that she’s fire beneath the covers.” “And I’m thinking that coy and maidenly Mistress Mechele has passion buried inside her that would burn a man’s hands. And his lips, and his… ” Two cocks stirred in spite of the cold bath their owners were enduring. “Have you noticed that even though we’ve had no chance to talk with them, they do seem to be around where we are working? An awful lot, I’d say, considering they have the responsibility of running this place?” Guy curved his lips as his words fell softly across the darkness between them. “Indeed I have, Guy. Indeed I have.” Gilles also smiled. “Perhaps the ladies are not as uninterested in us as they would like us to believe?” Guy snorted. “With all modesty, my friend, how could they not be? We’ve met just about every man here, and there’s none I’d consider worthy bedmates for those two maids.” 20

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“Yes. Perhaps they are indeed ripe for the plucking. And I, for one, would like to remove Mistress Linnet’s feathers.” “Well, at least we’ve had chance to cover the estate over these past few days. What would you say about Lymington’s complaints?” Gilles pursed his lips as he thought about Guy’s question. “Tidy, well run, the crops seem to be in fine fettle. I’d say that perhaps Lymington has a valid point about their tribute. But there’s something that doesn’t sit right with me about Lymington and his words.” “Me neither.” Both men fell silent, prey to their individual thoughts, until the cold water began to chill even their solid flesh. “Let’s head back, Gilles. We’ve been gone long enough.” Guy stepped from the water, shaking himself free of the clinging droplets. Gilles laughed as he did the same. “I swear the farm hands think we’re up to no good with our nightly baths. ‘Heathen habits’…” he mimicked, repeating the words of not a few of their fellow workers, who couldn’t understand the practice of immersing one’s entire body in water. “The concept of cleanliness seems to spread far too slowly for my liking,” agreed Guy. “I swear some think we creep away for an assignation. Probably with each other.” Gilles blanched. “By the Saints, do you think so? That will sit poorly with our hostesses.” Guy choked back a laugh. “My friend, I think we need have no fears on that score.” Their voices were quiet and nearly drowned by the noise of the water as it babbled around them. “In fact, we might just want to make sure. I feel eyes watching right this moment.” He dropped the cloth he’d been using to wipe away the water, and stretched, letting the moonlight brush his nakedness and his cock, which was standing away from his body now, in semi arousal. “You felt it too?” answered Gilles softly. “Perhaps you have the right of it.” He also took care not to hide his body as he dried it slowly, being careful to make sure that anyone watching from a nearby location could get a good eyeful of his personal assets. “That should do the trick,” grunted Guy, reaching for his breeches. “I surely hope so. I tire of this waiting and working game. It’s time for us to claim our dues, I think. And I’d prefer a pot of honey to a pot of gold.” With a smothered laugh, the men strode back to the stables, and their uncomfortable beds amidst the stored hay.

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***** Two pairs of eyes closed simultaneously as the men walked away from them. Two almost identical sighs issued from two sets of lips, and Linnet and Mechele held on to each other, neither sure if their legs would support them. “Did you see…?” breathed Mechele. “Did I ever,” sighed Linnet. “So fine. Such bodies.” “Such upstanding cocks. Dear heavens above, I’m aching for want of some of that deep inside me.” Mechele stifled a giggle. “Please don’t tell me you’re talking about Guy. I want him so bad I swear I can taste him already.” Linnet sagged in relief. “No, sweetheart. ‘Tis Gilles who sends these stupid shivers to my knees. Let’s hope the gentlemen are of a like mind.” The two girls took a different path back to Maltby, avoiding the stables and the two men by mutual consent. “They have worked hard, have they not?” Linnet’s question broke the silence. “Indeed they have. I’m surprised to find how little they’ve complained, and how much they’ve done,” answered Mechele. “Truly, in these few short days, much more has been accomplished than I could have hoped.” “And we’ve had no more little disasters, either,” mused Linnet. “Somehow, I doubt that those two would resort to trickery, Linnet,” said Mechele. Linnet chuckled. “Are you saying that because you would like to keep them around for a while to help with the work? Or because you’d hate to think ill of someone you desperately want between your thighs?” Mechele answered with a chuckle of her own. “A little of both, I suppose.” “Well, I confess, I cannot believe that Gilles would act in an underhanded manner. It must be something in his eyes. They look…honest.” “And very blue,” teased Mechele. Linnet sighed. “Yes. So very very blue.” The two women silently entered their home and each bid the other goodnight. There were four restless bodies at Maltby Abbey that night, though none knew that their fevered and sensual restlessness was echoed by another. But nor could any of the four suppress the hope that events might just conspire to bring them together and relieve their longings.

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The next day was Saturday, a day that Maltby Abbey used for easier chores, in order to lighten the workload and help their tenants relax their hearts and minds in preparation for the Sabbath day to follow. Guy and Gilles had been sent to the river, with instructions to examine the stone walls that formed a small dam in one area, and to check the workings of the little waterwheel attached to the barn which provided the power to grind their wheat. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, and both men were happy to do this particular job, stripping off their shirts and merrily wading through the shallow waters as they ran knowledgeable fingers across the joints looking for weaknesses. Gilles loved the water, and playfully splashed around, enjoying the moment in his own way. Guy was fascinated by the workings of the mill and several times nearly lost his hand to the steadily turning wheel. “All seems well from here,” he called. “Here too,” answered Gilles, emerging breathless from beneath the water where he’d sunk to observe the lower stone foundations. “Perhaps this is not such a hard job after all,” chuckled Guy, shaking his wet black hair out of his eyes. “Wonderful things, water wheels.” The two men shared an identical grin. A sudden shout caught their attention and drew their eyes downstream. “Careful, Linnet. Damnation. There she goes… ” More shouts followed, and Guy raised an eyebrow at his friend in query. “By all means, Guy. Let us find out what all this noise is about.” Following the sounds of crashing brush and girlish calls, the two men found themselves on the banks of the river, some way past the dam, where the water slowed and the shallows were quite muddy. Stepping stones forded the stream at this point, leading from the bank upon which they stood to the meadow on the opposite side. “There…there…I see her… ” Linnet was pointing excitedly at something on the other bank. “Good day, Mistresses. May we be of assistance?” Guy’s deep voice froze the two women who turned with identical expressions on their faces. Gilles felt his gut clench as the sunlight dappled across Linnet’s face. Their eyes clashed and he drew a breath. By the Saints, she was a beauty. The exercise had brought a flush to her cheeks and her breasts were heaving with exertion. He couldn’t suppress the thought that this was how she would look when they loved. And by God, they would love. He knew it all the way down to his toes.

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“‘Tis that damn…dratted ewe, Guy,” said Mechele, apparently busy drowning in Guy’s stare. “She manages to ford the river here and gets into that meadow where she has no right to be.” Guy’s eyes flickered briefly over Linnet, then returned to Mechele. “And that is a problem because… ” “The field is full of clover.” Linnet spoke directly to Gilles. His heart settled into a steady, if accelerated, beat. She wanted him. She was all but ignoring Guy, and concentrating on him. The lines had been drawn and the opponents selected. It was very close to time for their loving joust to begin. He wrenched his thoughts from between Linnet’s thighs and managed to squeeze a few words past a parched throat. “Clover? That’s not good for sheep, is it?” “Certainly not,” snapped Mechele. “Too much grazing and she’ll bloat, and she’s one of our best ewes. ‘Twould be a sad loss for our flock.” “Then we must see what we can do to help.” Gilles’ statement set both girls back slightly, as it was spoken with calm authority and confidence. “You two?” Mechele all but snorted in disbelief. Guy bridled at that. “Madam, we have tilled your fields, become closely acquainted with your livestock, especially that foul-tempered sow of yours, and even weeded your bloody garden. Surely the recapture of one sheep is within our abilities?” “Or perhaps you doubt our…abilities?” The hesitation was deliberate. Gilles wanted desperately to make Linnet aware of him as a man. Or increase her awareness as the case may be. His words seemed to do the trick, as the color mounted on Linnet’s cheeks and she dropped her gaze. “We do not doubt either of you, Gilles. But a sheep is often hard to catch,” muttered Mechele, still looking fixedly at Guy. “Then let us show you how it should be done.” With those words, both Guy and Gilles strode to the edge of the waters and surveyed the stepping stones that would lead them to the other side and one misbehaving sheep. A loud bleat betrayed the runaway’s location, and Guy stepped unhesitatingly out onto the stones. Gilles was but a pace behind him. “Be careful,” called Mechele. “Those stones are very slip… ” A loud curse and a huge splash interrupted her words, as Guy lost his footing and stumbled backwards, landing flat on his back in the mud of the slow flowing waters. “…pery.” A second later Gilles, unable to stop himself, fell face down alongside his friend. 24

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There was total silence for a few awed moments as Linnet and Mechele stood, stunned, looking at two soaked men, covered in mud, sprawled in their stream. Then the giggles began. Doing her best to keep a straight face, Linnet clamped her thighs together as the laughter built, unable to suppress the feeling that her bladder was going to let go at any moment if she didn’t release her mirth. She gasped, choked and burst out into laughter, joined immediately by Mechele. The two women clung to each other, almost weeping at the sight. Peals and gusts of merriment rang around the ears of two very wet, irritated, and embarrassed men, sitting in a mud puddle. Between her guffaws, Linnet eyed Gilles as he sat up, wringing mud from his hair and swishing it away from his hands and face. Guy was in even worse condition. Covered from head to foot in the sloppy stuff, he was dousing his head in order to clear his eyes. “I’m glad we have brought smiles to your faces, ladies,” called Gilles, his blue eyes twinkling. “Indeed, Gilles, there is nothing so pleasing as hearing such lovely ladies laugh. Even though it is at our misfortune.” Guy’s tones were amused. Linnet coughed back another chuckle and straightened herself, held once more by that vivid blue gaze. “My apologies. We certainly didn’t mean to make a jest out of your accident, but, oh my goodness… ” She giggled again. “You do look funny.” That was all it took to set the girls off again into another round of helpless, tearyeyed wails of laughter. Guy and Gilles shot a quick look at each other. “Perhaps the ladies are a mite too clean this morning—and overheated too. I should hate for them to suffer a seizure from all this unbridled mirth,” said Guy suggestively. “You read my mind. Perhaps we should cool them down a bit,” answered Gilles, plunging his hand down beside him and grabbing a nice plump ball of sloppy mud. Linnet wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders, fighting to regain her customary aplomb. She turned and met a flying missile head on. With a gasp she lowered her eyes and saw a huge mass of mud sliding from her breastbone down over the front of her gown. A cry from Mechele came almost immediately. She was now wearing the latest in country hair accessories—a similar daub of mud trickled over one ear. Linnet’s blood was up. “Why you… ”

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She stumbled down the bank, kicking off her slippers. Within seconds she’d armed herself from the edge of the water and had returned the shot, catching Gilles by surprise and landing right on target. That damnably attractive chest of his. Mechele had done likewise, and having a very good eye indeed, caught Guy smack in the neck. The battle had begun. The first shots found their mark and left a lasting impression on both sides. The girls found a convenient spot to reload, swiping handfuls of the gooey stuff and flinging it with unerring accuracy. Guy grinned through the grime. This was his kind of battle. He and Gilles moved through the waters, away from their attackers, yet keeping close enough to their own armory of mud. He tempered his shots, not wanting to inflict any harm on Mechele’s soft body, yet itching to see her wet, her gown clinging to her breasts, and crying mercy as he conquered her. No wait, that was in bed. This was in the mud. He shook his head to clear it and returned to the fray, landing a very nice shot indeed on her curvaceous backside as she unwisely turned away from him to gather another missile. He grinned. Now this was a lot more fun than mucking out the pigsty. Within moments, everyone was almost unrecognizable, with the women covered from head to foot in brown wet mud stains, and the men sporting similar attire. Of course, with their bare chests, they were less affected, and could rinse the damned stuff off with a quick splash. Unthinkingly, the women had stepped into the edges of the water, and as if in concert, both Guy and Gilles moved closer to them, still armed and wary, but panting now with the exhilaration of the fight. “Do you cry surrender?” asked Gilles, grinning from ear to ear. “Never, sir,” answered Linnet with a challenging glint in her eye. “But I will ask for a pause to catch my breath,” chuckled Mechele. “My ribs are aching from laughing so much.” Guy’s harsh features took on a wicked gleam. “Well, we have to confess to having seriously damaged your gowns. Perhaps we can help you with that… ” He splashed through the water and before she could catch her breath, had picked up Mechele and carried her back out into the stream. Gilles neared Linnet. “Oh no… ” she said, holding out a hand to stay him. “Oh yes, Linnet… ” he said, eyes intent.

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Struggling and kicking helplessly against the arms of iron that held them, both girls found themselves carried to a deeper and quieter part of the waters, shaded by overhanging willows. “Well now, Guy, it would seem that these ladies need a good bath.” Gilles grinned cheekily at his friend. “My thoughts exactly, Gilles.” Both men simultaneously opened their arms and dropped Mechele and Linnet into the cool waters with a loud splash.

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Chapter 5 The shock of the cold water took Mechele’s breath away. The shock of two strong arms pulling her to her feet nearly stopped her heart. She found herself breast to chest with Guy, and he moved one hand, brushing her streaming hair from her face with a surprisingly gentle touch. The other hand pulled her closer, ever closer, until they bumped, knee to shoulder. “Guy, I… ” She opened her mouth to speak, but had no chance to utter a word. With barely-restrained power, Guy’s mouth claimed hers. Mechele’s brain froze, and her body took over. This was no gentle meeting of lips or polite expression of affection. This was… this was something else. This was desire. Lust. A pure and simple need to take what was there for the having. And she knew she wanted to take it, and more. His tongue drove between hers, forcing her to open her lips wide and permit him entrance. Permit him? She welcomed him, as hungry as he for this merging of mouths and bodies. He tightened his hold on her and she felt her nipples harden against the heat of his body. Her wet gown was no barrier to his touch, and his hand slipped behind her head, angling her to where he wanted her. He licked into her mouth, bringing a moan to her throat, and her hands slid up his bare arms to knead his shoulders and tangle in the damp hair at the back of his neck. He moved, allowing her a breath, then crushing her beneath him again, hungry, always hungry, demanding more and more. And she found she had more and more to give him. His skin felt wonderful, smooth, firm, yet yielding beneath her palms. He smelled of pine and fresh air and river water, blended with an intriguing scent all his own. A very male scent. His hand slipped lower down her back and crushed her buttocks, pulling her tight to his hardness. And my, what a hardness was there. He moved her slightly, raising her almost to tiptoes so that his cock, which was now a rigid length between his thighs, could find its home between hers.

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Almost without thought, Mechele opened her legs, allowing him to settle right where they both wanted him to be. Their tongues dueled frantically, his body molded to hers closer than the wet kirtle between them, and she sighed with pleasure as his hips moved with minute thrusts, but thrusts all the same. Her juices were flowing down her thighs, mixing with the waters of the river that still streamed from her body. Closer yet he pulled her, almost devouring her mouth and her body with his. She felt imprisoned by his presence and captured by his tongue. His cock rubbed against her mound and she moaned with pleasure, pulling away slightly to fully experience his touch. It was all Guy needed. His hand left her head and slid between them, finding one soft breast and its hardened tip with his fingers, like iron to a lodestone. He tugged and squeezed, almost to the point of pain, and Mechele gasped her pleasure as he plunged back into her mouth taking her kiss once again even as he claimed her breast with his large hand. Never once in her marriage had she considered that a kiss might be anything like this. Her dear departed husband had dropped light pecks on her breasts, true, but never had he molded or kneaded them, or cupped them with such strength. Never had she wanted anything so much, either. It was as if Guy was lighting a fire within her to match the one that was obviously burning within him. She surrendered to the flames.

***** Linnet had erupted from the water, flinging back her sodden chestnut hair, angry words bubbling through her brain. But Gilles was there, steadying her, staring at her with blue eyes that now seemed lit by some inner glow. Her scold died on her lips as he slipped his hands to cup her face. “I’m sorry, Linnet. Are you all right?” His voice was gentle and soft, and she found herself leaning towards him as if spellbound by those eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips, and in spite of herself she licked them. He smiled and lowered his head. His touch was like a butterfly at first, just a soft brushing of skin against skin. She leaned closer, feeling something start to churn low in her belly. Her hands slipped of their own accord to his waist, and then around to his back as the power of his touch lured her into his arms.

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Slowly, his kiss grew more intense, and she willingly parted her lips, urging him to take this moment further. He drew back a little and smiled at her. “You taste of sunshine,” he said, and kissed her again. This time he took advantage of her offer and explored her mouth with his tongue, gently brushing the sides of her sensitive skin and running little flicks across her teeth. Her hands tightened around him and she pulled him closer. “Gently, sweetling, gently,” he admonished, nevertheless snuggling her closer to him. He lowered a hand and pulled her tight, returning again to feather her mouth and her face with light warming kisses. She was growing needier by the second. Where was the savage claiming she’d suffered through the long year of her marriage? Where were the fumbling hands, the harsh pinches, the almost angry thrusts that had brought tears of pain, not pleasure, to her eyes? This man was touching her with tenderness, with care, stroking her body and finding something she’d not thought she possessed. A desire that was blossoming into a desperate wanting. She couldn’t help herself. She raised her knee and slid it up the outside of his thigh, leaning fully against him and gasping as her breasts rubbed against his chest. His heat surrounded her and his cock found her willing mound, sliding ever so softly against it in a teasing rhythm. He grasped her thigh, pushing her sodden skirts away. Oh God. The touch of his hand on her bare skin was wonderful. He swallowed her gasp and let his fingers slide softly along her flesh until he found her naked buttock beneath her gown. She moaned with the pleasure of it. His large hand cupped her and held her steady, keeping her flush up against his cock. Her breasts were squashed against him, nipples hard to the point of agony, yearning to be bared and suckled and touched by this amazingly gentle man. He deepened his kiss now, claiming the soft territory he found with a gentle certainty. Heat spread from her mound to her whole body, infusing her with a desperate need to get closer. She wriggled against him, hungry for the feel of his flesh, the scent of him, anything he cared to share with her at this moment would have been welcomed. But he stayed with his gentle touches, his firm kisses and his hand, which was nestling against her bottom. It moved softly, bringing streams of desire to her body and flooding her thighs with her juices.

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If he kept this up, she’d come right then and there in his arms.

***** Guy and Gilles were men with a mission, and with their women clasped firmly in their arms, it seemed their goals were well on the way to being met. The willows provided a secluded bower, and while they were facing each other, their companions were back to back, each unconscious of anything but the passion that was threatening to melt the leaves from the overhanging tree. Suddenly, Linnet shivered, and Gilles drew back with a slight frown, releasing her leg and letting it slide back down into the water. “You’re cold, sweet,” he murmured, cuddling her protectively against him. Over her head his eyes met Guy’s. The cool gray had turned stormy, and Gilles tried to stop the grin from spreading over his handsome face. The first joust was theirs. Unquestionably. Without further ado, the two men once more picked up their women, only this time they strode carefully to the bank and into the warming sunshine. “But Gilles, I… ” said Linnet, worried brown eyes searching his. “Hush Linnet. You must get dry. The water is very cold still. And not the place for what I have in mind.” Linnet, the calm, cool and controlled Linnet, blushed. Mechele, from her place next to Guy’s heart, chuckled, apparently quite oblivious of the impropriety of being carried, sopping wet, by a half naked man. “And you too, my dear. Though ‘twould be my pleasure to help you out of those wet clothes.” Guy’s words brought a matching blush to Mechele’s face. As their feet touched the earth, both girls seemed to recall themselves and their whereabouts. A bleat behind them made them all turn. “Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered Gilles. There, on the bank, with as close to a grin on her face as a sheep could manage, stood the ewe. She looked innocent, woolly, and a little puzzled at these strange wet creatures who obviously liked to play in the water. How she had crossed back over the stream was a mystery. Linnet sighed. “Well, you little devil. Good thing you’ve got lambs to tend to, or you’d be mutton for tonight’s dinner, I swear.” Awareness crept back into all four of them, and Mechele and Linnet looked around awkwardly. 31

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“We should… ” “Yes, it’s wet and… ” “Go back to the house and change. Right away.” Guy’s peremptory order brought Linnet’s head around. “Yes indeed, Sir Knight.” She barked back at him. There was a moment of silence as Gilles and Guy exchanged glances. “How long have you known?” asked Gilles, staring fixedly at Linnet. “From the first,” answered Mechele, taking pity on her cousin whose words seemed to have evaporated under the heat of that blue gaze. “You are like no other workers who have ever wandered our way. Your manners, your address… ” “Your bodies… ” added the irrepressible Linnet, who apparently had regained the power of speech. Gilles preened. Guy ignored him. “There are matters we must discuss, ladies. But you must know we mean you no harm.” His voice held a note of pleading. Gray eyes bored into hazel ones. “I know, Sir Guy. I know,” Mechele answered quietly, bringing a softening to those harsh features. “Good girl. But you must change and we have tasks to finish.” Guy nodded in satisfaction. “Oh but… ” Gilles raised his hand. “Even though you know who we are, others do not, and we’d rather keep it that way. Is there a time when we could talk, without drawing undue attention to ourselves?” Linnet glanced over at Mechele. Both girls shared the same thought. If these two ever imagined they wouldn’t draw attention to themselves, they were modest Knights indeed. “Well, ‘tis Saturday,” said Linnet. “We usually end the workweek with a small meal in our little courtyard, where all the workers bring some food and share with everyone.” Mechele dragged her eyes away from Guy. “Sometimes someone will bring a pipe and play us a merry tune.” “A chance for us to chat with those tenants who really own this land. Those who earn our gratitude every single day,” added Linnet. Both men nodded their approval of this idea. “So,” continued Mechele. “If you would care to be part of our meal this evening, we could certainly spend some time talking and not cause any untoward comments?” Linnet chuckled. “The only untoward comments I’ve heard so far suggest that you two are…er…that you enjoy a…how can I put this?” She turned to Mechele for help, to find her cousin grinning widely. 32

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“Well, seeing as you two spend so much time together, there are some rumors about the…the…nature of your friendship.” She bit her lip against a laugh. Gilles’ eyes flared and he grabbed Linnet’s hands, daringly pressing them against the front of his breeches. Guy pulled Mechele up close. Very close. “I trust this puts the lie to those rumors, lady?” growled Guy, pushing his stillaroused cock hard against her mound. “Any questions, Mistress Linnet?” asked Gilles, refusing to let her pull her hands from his arousal. Both girls obediently shook their heads. “Not a one,” sighed Mechele. “Me either,” echoed Linnet.

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Chapter 6 While Linnet and Mechele exchanged their sopping gowns for dry clothes, Guy and Gilles returned to the water wheel and concluded their morning’s chores. “So our secret’s out,” said Guy, leaning against a tree and letting the sunshine dry him off. “Apparently so,” answered Gilles, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair. “I suppose it was naive of us to expect our presence hereabouts wouldn’t be mentioned or discussed. But I had hoped to be able to tell Mi—um—the women about it ourselves.” Guy stared off into the distance, his mind busily working on the changed situation and what it meant now to their mission. He frowned. Gilles shot him a glance. “I know that frown. It means you’re troubled by something. Is it Mechele?” Guy snorted. “Absolutely not.” He chewed his lip. “Well, maybe.” Gilles waited patiently. “Oh all right. Yes. It’s Mechele.” He strode to the edge of the river and stared at the waters, as if trying to find the answers within its rippling depths. “I can’t explain it, Gilles. Touching her was like touching moonbeams. She stirred something in me that I wasn’t prepared for. I want her beneath me so badly that my very teeth ache with it, and yet I want to kill anyone that so much as looks at her with anything other than respect.” He sighed. “She touched me and I was lost, Gilles.” Gilles place a hand on his friend’s sun warmed shoulder. “If it’s of any comfort, Guy, I had much the same experience with Linnet. All that fire and passion gentling to warmth and desire under my hands. I swear if I could have, I would have claimed her right there beneath that willow and be damned to it. And I also shudder at the thought of another man so much as… ” His words trailed off. Both men were silent for a moment, busy with their thoughts. Guy forced his shrewd warrior’s mind to take over, and did his best to leave his lustful images of loving Mechele in the background. It was not an easy battle, but finally he half-turned to Gilles with narrowed eyes. “Well, I can say one thing. Lymington’s troubles lie not with Maltby Abbey, but with Lymington.” As had happened so many times since they’d met, Gilles met his look with an intense one of his own. “Agreed.”

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Gilles paced the bank as he considered the problem. “You have only to look at those two to tell they’d not willingly defy the law,” said Guy, working things out in his own mind. “Therefore, I am led to one conclusion.” Gilles nodded. “That Lymington is perhaps demanding a great deal more than his due.” Guy glanced at his friend. “Perhaps it would be useful to find out from the women exactly what his demands are.” “And it is my hope that perhaps this evening we may have chance to do just that,” finished Gilles for him. “I agree again. This place is well run, carefully tended, and seems to offer much in the way of security and comfort for its tenants. They’re well fed, hard workers, and from what I’ve seen they’re content to be here. Unlike some other estates.” Guy chuckled. “Yes, tonight might be the time to question them. But I’m much afraid that my mind won’t be on learning the details of their levy from Lymington. It will have a hard time concentrating on anything other than learning the details of Mistress Mechele. The intimate details. “ “You want the house or the barn?” asked Gilles, his lips curving up into a wicked grin. “Oh definitely the barn. I want Mechele out of her comfortable chamber. I want her to feel something new, something exciting, something…something…oh hell, Gilles, I just want to feel her.” Gilles bit his lip against a laugh. “Well, then, we’re working toward the same goal. I want Linnet to be smothered in softness, to take the edge away from her loving, and make her aware of how sensual it can be. To gentle her first like an untamed filly, then show her things that she’s never dreamed of… ” Amazingly, Gilles, the Sun Knight, colored up as he realized what he was saying. “Saints, we’re two moonstruck idiots, aren’t we?” Guy’s laugh rang out, disturbing a flock of birds in a nearby tree. Gilles smiled quietly. “Indeed we are, my friend. I think we may just be facing the most dangerous foes we’ve ever run into. This time it’s not a piece of land, or a King we must fight for. This time, it’s our damned hearts.” “And all this time, I never thought we had ‘em,” finished Guy wryly. He shrugged, sighed, and followed his friend back towards the stables. A new kind of battle faced him, and he wasn’t sure of the outcome. Not sure at all.

*****

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Linnet ran her brush through her long chestnut hair, absently pulling the tangles free and smoothing it to a soft shine. She’d bathed and changed, and felt more like herself. She snorted. Try for a little honesty Linnet, she told herself sternly. She felt nothing like herself. Nothing at all. Her hand trembled and the brush stilled. She tingled low in her gut at the remembered pressure of Gilles’ lips against hers. Of the sensation of his tongue discovering the nooks and crannies within her mouth, and the touch of his hand on her bare buttock. She closed her eyes and shuddered, still aroused, still wanting, and unable to deny it, even to herself. Her mind drifted, comparing this morning to the lovemaking of her departed husband. He’d been rough, coarse, and more often than not had come to her bed stinking of ale and horses. No clean fresh scent for him. He’d seemed to take pleasure in punishing her for some minor infringement of his rigid rules, and many had been the time when she’d been soundly and cruelly spanked before he sank his cock into her, not even bothering to turn her over first. It had been almost animalistic. She’d derived no pleasure from any of it, even though she knew she was capable of achieving such release. Unfortunately, she’d had to make that discovery on her own. She ’d tried to mourn his passing, as a dutiful widow should, but scarce had the news spread over his vast, untidy holdings, than she was packed and gone, leaving others to clean up the mess her husband had left behind. It had been fate that had steered her mare to Maltby Abbey and her cousin Mechele. And now it was fate that had steered Gilles deSoleil into her stream and her heart. She smiled now, recalling his face as he’d taken his unplanned mud bath. So many men would have been irate, angry, and embarrassed. Not Gilles. He’d laughed. His eyes had lit up with fun, and he’d turned the moment into a childish exercise in joy and pleasure. And oh what pleasure his touch had given her. A slight scratch on her door heralded the arrival of a now equally clean and refreshed Mechele. “You’re smiling,” Mechele said as she came across the room and took the brush from her cousin’s now-still hand. “You must be thinking of him.” Linnet’s lips curved even more. “You win no prizes for that assumption, Mechele, my love. And don’t try and make me believe that it’s not Guy who has brought that sparkle to your eyes.” Mechele had the grace to look embarrassed. “I can’t hide a damn thing from you, can I?”

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Linnet looked smug. “No. I can read you like an illuminated manuscript. You’re looking entirely too—illuminated—to have anything but Guy on your mind.” “I very much wish he was on my body, too.” Linnet laughed. “I’m as one with you there, dear. I’m panting at the thought that I might be able to seduce Gilles this very night.” Her gaze turned thoughtful. “But should I?” Mechele stroked the brush firmly through Linnet’s hair. “Of course you should. I fully intend to explore the length of Guy’s—um—intentions tonight. We are widows. We are old enough to run an estate and make all the decisions necessary for its wellbeing. Why should we not have the freedom to choose our bed-partners as well?” Linnet sighed. “I want to fuck him so bad, I can taste it,” she confessed. Mechele, usually uncomfortable using language as blunt as her cousin, grinned. “My feelings exactly. I want to—to—fuck Guy.” Linnet’s eyebrows soared and she flashed a glance of surprise at her friend. “Yes. I said it. All right? It’s the truth. Guy made me feel that way. Wild, and free and needy, and I swear if he’d laid me down in that river and I’d drowned it would have been just fine, as long as he was inside me at the time.” Mechele returned to her hair duties, plaiting the long chestnut tresses into a neat braid. “Well, it would seem we are of like minds. And it would also seem that we’ve picked our best dresses too,” she grinned. Mechele snorted. “And why not? I, for one, want Guy to remember what is beneath this dress, even though he saw most of it this morning, anyway. Wet linen clings, in case you hadn’t noticed.” “Oh I noticed,” said Linnet wryly. “How could I not? Gilles’ heat went right through my kirtle and damned near seared my backside.” She colored slightly, remembering the heat of his hand that had also helped in the searing process. She squirmed. Mechele secured the end of Linnet’s braid and let it fall with a nod. “So we are decided then. I’ll see if I can get Guy to take me to my chamber this evening, and you…you’ll bring Gilles here?” Linnet chewed her lip, thinking it over. “No, I think I’ll take him to the barn. So much more…more…lusty.” Mechele giggled. “I’m not thinking either Guy or Gilles need much encouragement in that area.” “Oh God. No, you’re right,” giggled back Linnet. “But we must make haste. I hear the trestles being set up in the courtyard right now. By the Saints, Mechele, I’m as nervous as a damn filly.” She stood up and shook out her skirts, and asked the quintessential female question. “Do I look all right?”

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Mechele surveyed her friend. Tall and limber from her active lifestyle, Mechele privately thought that Linnet’s beauty was striking and unique. From the chestnut hair to her sparkling brown eyes, down past her womanly curves to the tips of her toes, she was perfect. “You look magnificent, love,” she replied. “As do you. This is one time I envy you those… ” Linnet nodded wryly at the breasts that thrust against Mechele’s kirtle. Mechele tugged on her gown, pulling it up a little and hiding some of the impressive cleavage that was revealed by the low neckline. She knew her sandy blonde hair was clean and shining, and that her hazel eyes had a new and hungry light in them. She’d seen all that in the polished metal mirror. She just wondered if Guy would like what he saw. If he’d touch her again and bring those fiery passions to the surface as surely as he had done that morning. “Mechele, you never speak much of your husband. Was he cruel to you?” Linnet’s question hung in the air between them. Mechele moved to the window and gazed out. “Not at all. He was…he was gentle.” She considered her words, thinking back on the scholarly man nearly two decades her senior to whom she’d been wed at her father’s insistence. “Sometimes I think he was just too gentle.” She paused, remembering. “He would touch me as if I was made of glass. No passion, no fire. His bedding was, well, polite, I think would be the best way to describe it.” Linnet sighed. “I could have used a little of that in my marriage bed, that’s for certain. ‘Tis no pleasure to be used by a man no better than a rutting stallion.” Mechele bit her lip. “Perhaps that explains our attraction to these knights? That they differ so to our first lovers?” Both girls considered this for a few moments. “Yes and no, Mechele. Yes, Gilles is different, but no, it’s not that difference that attracts me to him.” Mechele nodded. “I know. Guy is like the flint that strikes the tinder inside me. So different but so unique. But we’ll have neither of them if we don’t hurry.” Linnet settled her light veil and chaplet on her head and grasped Mechele’s hand. “Come on. We’ve a pair of fine cocks awaiting our pleasure, and I for one am more than ready for them.” And with that, the two women scurried from the room, each trying to hide their nerves, but each knowing that this night and these Knights might change their lives forever.

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Chapter 7 The courtyard was buzzing with activity as Guy and Gilles strolled towards it. They’d also cleaned themselves up to a fare-thee-well, and removed fresh and much more respectable breeches and shirts from their tightly rolled packs. Their vibrating masculinity surrounded them like an almost visible aura, making many a woman cast a glance in their direction and take another, closer, look at the two new workers. My, my. I never realized. How did I miss those two? But their eyes never wavered from the pair of women circulating amongst their tenants, chatting, laughing, stopping to cuddle a child, and welcoming their friends with warmth and ease. Old Sir Dunstan had also, incredibly, made an appearance. Gilles had learned that the old man was much loved by his people, and they laughed good-humoredly at his habit of napping anywhere and everywhere, whenever the urge came upon him. They were not in the least concerned that all the orders came from two women, in fact they’d been unanimous in praising both Linnet and Mechele to anyone who asked, and even a few who didn’t. “By God, lad,” said one farmer. “If it hadn’t been for those two, we’d have gone under and lost everything that first winter after those damned Swanns left. Took as many of us as possible into that house yon, and fed us what they could. None went hungry, the children survived, and from that day on, not a one of us at Maltby Abbey wouldn’t give our lives for them.” He’d chewed meditatively on a piece of grass. His eyes were old, but still sharp, and he was one of the few who’d taken a shrewd second glance at the two new additions to Maltby’s estate. “We wouldn’t take kindly to anyone who might have unfriendly thoughts about those lasses.” It was a clear warning that warmed Gilles’ heart. “Believe me, friend, neither Guy nor myself would ever harm a hair on their heads. We also believe that women are to be cherished and protected, not victimized.” The farmer had stared at them for a moment or two, and then his wrinkles had shifted into a grin. “Well, then, lads, perhaps you might get to a bit of that cherishin’ you were speaking about. Seems yon lasses could use some laughter in their lives.” With a wink, he’d sauntered off, whistling tunelessly, leaving Guy and Gilles staring after him with identically bemused expressions on their faces. And now, thought Gilles as they entered the courtyard, let the cherishing begin. 39

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Guy’s first impression was of a mass of people all talking at once. Then he caught sight of Mechele as she lifted her head and met his gaze. Everything else faded into nothingness next to the light in her eyes as she saw him. Dear God, he wanted her in the worst way. Or the best way. Or any way at all. His loins throbbed and he cursed his wayward cock, ordering it to not misbehave and make its presence known right at this moment. It ignored him and pressed eagerly against his breeches. He muttered a curse, but for once Gilles paid no attention. He’d spied Linnet. The two women made their way towards the newcomers, a smile of welcome on their faces. Mechele’s peach kirtle caught the rays of the setting sun and turned her flesh and her shining hair to gold. Her breasts, those luscious ample breasts he could still feel in his hand, were displayed very nicely by her low neckline. Guy wanted to cover her from head to toe and experienced a flash of anger at the thought that others might also appreciate her body. He glanced around, and barely restrained himself from reaching for his sword. Which would have looked very foolish indeed, since he wasn’t wearing one. This woman had him tip-over-arse, there was no mistake about it. “Greetings, gentlemen, you are most welcome.” Mechele’s words were general, but her eyes were for Guy alone. His gut clenched. It was going to be a long evening. “Will you allow us to make you known to Sir Dunstan?” Linnet asked politely, her eyes devouring Gilles. “With the greatest of pleasure, lady,” Gilles answered, drawing her arm through his as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Guy and Mechele followed, Mechele’s hand resting lightly on Guy’s. He found himself nearly trembling at her closeness, and the light scent of roses and woman that surrounded her. “Your fragrance overwhelms me, Mistress,” he whispered. She drew back a little. “I wear too much, Sir?” He tugged her back roughly to his side. “‘Tis not your perfume, I speak of, Mechele. ‘Tis your scent. The scent of a woman. The particular scent that is you.” He looked down and met her gaze, willing her to understand. She blushed. Obviously she did. The two couples made their way to the doorway of Maltby Abbey, where Sir Dunstan had been seated on a large comfortable chair and was smiling and nodding at the throng in his courtyard. “Uncle Dunstan,” said Mechele, leading Guy forward. “We have guests this evening.”

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Linnet followed close behind with Gilles. Sir Dunstan’s eyes wrinkled against the setting sun as he looked over the two fine strong men who now stood before him. “These are two knights, Sir Dunstan,” said Linnet, obviously choosing her words carefully. “They have come to visit Maltby and have been so kind as to offer their assistance with many of our hardest chores.” “Knights, eh?” Sir Dunstan’s voice rattled in his throat. “And what might two hearty knights find to do at Maltby?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and although his hands trembled slightly, they tightened on the arms of his chair in concern. “Don’t worry, Uncle Dunstan,” soothed Mechele. “They are here to help, not to hurt. This is Sir Guy and that is Sir Gilles.” The two men stepped forward and bowed respectfully to the old man. “‘Tis an honor to meet you at last, Sir Dunstan,” said Guy in his deep voice, meeting the heavy lidded eyes without a flinch. “A very great honor,” added Gilles. “We have been made most welcome at Maltby Abbey and appreciate your hospitality. It’s been our pleasure to serve such a fine estate in any way at all.” Sir Dunstan flickered a glance over the group. “I’ll wager it has been,” he grunted. “See that you continue to serve the estate, and not my girls.” “Uncle Dunstan,” gasped Mechele, coloring up. “How could you say such a thing?” The old man snorted. “I maybe in my dotage, but I’m not blind, girl. You two have worked your pretty little arses off to bring Maltby to what it is. You just be careful you don’t give it all away for a quick tumble with these two.” Linnet’s face was fiery. “Sir Dunstan, there’s no chance of that happening. Sir Guy and Sir Gilles are here to help us in our current situation. If anyone stands a chance of sorting out this bloody mess with Lymington, I’d say that two of Lord Benstede’s most trusted fellows might do the trick, wouldn’t you?” Guy and Gilles glanced quickly at each other, as Linnet revealed exactly how much she knew about the two men. “We are indeed in Lord Benstede’s train, Sir Dunstan,” said Gilles quietly. “But please know that we act on his behalf, not that of Lymington.” Sir Dunstan snorted. “That overfed oaf. ‘Tis good you said that, lad. I’ll not trust another of his people on my land. Lord Benstede, now, is a different kettle of fish. A stout lad, he was… ” “You knew him, Sir?” asked Guy curiously. “Oh aye, I knew him. He was squiring some knight or other back in those days, of course. Full of fire and fight, and couldn’t keep his cock tucked into his breeches for more than a day or two at most.”

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Gilles chuckled, storing up these words for later use. “He’s a settled and landed Knight, now, Sir,” he said, blue eyes alight with laughter. “His wife would doubtless not wish to learn of those exploits.” Everyone grinned at that, even Sir Dunstan. “You have the right of it, lad. Our youth is over too soon, and ‘tis sad that the wisdom of age makes us look back and regret not what we did, but what we didn’t do.” Guy’s hand found Mechele’s and squeezed it, as Gilles’ hand slipped to the base of Linnet’s spine. “But you don’t need an old man to tell you that, I’m sure. Mechele…Linnet… ” The two girls moved forward at Sir Dunstan’s bidding. “Take these two lads off somewhere and tell them what they need to know. I can’t deny that my old mind will rest easier with the thought that someone else is around to offer you and Maltby the protection that I cannot.” Guy and Gilles moved in closer as well. “Sir Dunstan, I make you a pledge,” said Guy. “On behalf of myself and Sir Gilles. There will be an accounting of all that has happened here at Maltby, and the matters that have been causing you concern will be settled to your—and our—satisfaction.” Gilles nodded in agreement. “You may rest easy, Sir Dunstan. On our honor as knights, we will get to the bottom of these matters.” His hand slipped lower, to the “bottom” of another matter. Linnet sighed. “We will stand in your stead, if we may, and offer our thoughts and our swords as your champions. There will be a finish to this—this—unpleasantness with Lymington.” He paused, and the light in his blue eyes turned icy. “One way or another.” In a surprising gesture of respect, Gilles dropped to one knee and paid homage to Sir Dunstan. Guy followed suit. An expression of relief and satisfaction crossed the old man’s face. “Then I am well content. Take these women away now, like good lads. They fuss over me and it sets what’s left of my teeth on edge. Besides, I see Mistress Cooper has made one of her fine blackberry pies, and this old mouth is watering for a piece. Go away and have some fun, all of you.” Blushing, confused, and more than a little nervous, Linnet and Mechele drew their knights away, and back into the festivities that were now in full swing.

***** The food was hearty and delicious, the ale was a fine home-brew, and Gilles could remember almost none of it.

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They ate and chatted and laughed with the people gathered to bid farewell to another hard week’s work. Toasts were merrily exchanged, jokes shared, discussions of the weather and the crops took place, all around them were the simple joys of living. And next to Gilles was Linnet. Her fragrance drugged him, her body sang a Siren’s song to his, and he struggled against the urge to drag her under the trestle table and flip up her skirts. He was lost. Guy was obviously suffering a like distraction, needing to ask one farmer to repeat himself twice. The farmer had shaken his head, as if wondering whether this new worker was a bit daft. Finally the circulating could cease, and the foursome found themselves a small table off to one side of the courtyard, where they could watch the dancing. A piper had struck up a merry tune, and several couples were already joined in the country measures. “At last,” sighed Gilles, slipping onto the bench and pressing tight against Linnet. “Your people are delightful, but I confess to a surfeit of their presence”, muttered Guy as he eased his long legs beneath the table. Also beneath the table he laid a hand possessively on Mechele’s thigh. “Now.” Gilles spoke the word with authority as his eyes swept both women. “I think it’s time for us to share some information.” Guy nodded in agreement. “Tell us, please, what exactly has been going on?” Gilles felt Linnet draw a deep breath. Her breasts stirred, rousing a similar sensation in his breeches. He did his best to ignore it, knowing that this conversation was important. His cock, however, refused to acknowledge anything other than its most immediate need. Linnet. Gilles sighed. “Better make it a short story, too.” Guy’s lips curved. “Agreed.” Linnet and Mechele both blushed. Mechele broke the pregnant silence that had fallen, as four minds had drifted to places best not explored at this particular moment. “It all began after our first good harvest,” she said, frowning a little at her hands as they lay folded on the table. “We had paid our tribute, and thought all was well, until riders arrived from Lymington, announcing that they had orders to review our land, our crops, and possibly re-assess our amount.” Linnet nodded. “We showed them every hospitality, permitted them access to our storage barns, our livestock, everything they needed to know. We assumed they’d raise our tribute slightly. After all, it had been a good harvest, the first since the Swanns had left, and so we waited.”

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Mechele took up the tale. “Then the next thing we know, Lymington himself rides up to the front door.” She bit her lip, and Guy leaned even closer. “Tell us, Mechele.” Mechele glanced at Linnet, who continued for her. “Lymington saw us. For the first time, I suppose. I can’t recall meeting him prior to that day.” She glanced over at Mechele for confirmation. A little nod greeted her words. “Well,” continued Linnet, twisting her hands nervously. “Apparently he liked what he saw.” Gilles could feel his muscles go rigid at these words. He flicked a quick glance at Guy’s immobile features. None but he would have noticed the quick tightening of that jaw or the change in Guy’s eyes. “He…he…made some suggestions.” “What suggestions, love?” Gilles asked the question far more gently than he would have believed possible. His heart was in his throat and his pulse was beating rapidly now. Linnet shook her head, unwilling to continue. “He…he wanted us both in his bed.” Mechele’s words exploded into the darkness. Gilles felt Linnet’s hand slip into his. It was cold. Guy’s arm slipped protectively around Mechele’s shoulders and he encouraged her to continue. “Go on, love. Tell it all. We have to know.” “Well,” sighed Mechele, shaking her head. “We denied him, of course.” Gilles bit his lip in fury, but kept his words inside him. “And we sent him away with something less than our usual courtesy.” That comment brought a wry grin to the lips of both men. They could just imagine the words that were probably spoken. “Then our next visit was from his estate manager, telling us of our new tribute, and what would happen if we failed to pay it.” Mechele’s voice was stronger now. “Lymington had tripled our amount. Tripled. Can you believe it?” Linnet nodded. “It was not something we could hope to meet, until the winter had passed, and we knew how much would be left. We had just restored Maltby to some kind of order. If we’d paid, we would have threatened the very lives of some of our people. We couldn’t permit that at all.” Gilles agreed and glanced absently at the dancing crowd. No, neither Linnet nor Mechele were the type to jeopardize those whose existence depended on them. “The next visit was laughable,” continued Mechele. “Lymington’s men arrived, demanding the increased tribute. And they carried a message from their Lord offering to wed me and thereby negate any overdue balance or future increases.” Linnet snorted. “As if we’d consider such a thing.” 44

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Gilles’ pulse was threatening to deafen him, and he had to shake his head to clear it. Mechele giggled. “Remember that this is not a big shire. Most of Lymington’s men were known to us, and so we entertained them like royalty, fed them, offered them our ales, and even a slice of Mistress Cooper’s extraordinarily fine blackberry pie. They were content, pleasant, and took our politely worded apology back to Lymington.” “Thus establishing the pattern of which Lymington complained,” muttered Gilles. “You seduced his men away from him.” Mechele straightened. “I’d not use exactly those words, Sir Gilles.” “You mistake, love,” said Guy warmly. “You seduced them with your kindness and your warmth, not—I am glad to say—with your delectable body.” Mechele subsided into a warm blush. Linnet took up the tale. “As a last resort, Lymington arrived once more, in full armor this time.” She snickered and glanced at Gilles. “I have not had the pleasure of seeing you two in your armor, but I’ll wager my best chaplet that it’s nothing like the sight of Lymington stuffed into his.” Guy and Gilles smiled, knowing in all modesty, that she spoke nothing but the truth. Gilles encouraged her to continue. “Go on, sweet. What happened when the corpulent Knight in his too-tight armor arrived on your doorstep?” Linnet chuckled. “Unfortunately, that final episode does not reflect well upon me, Gilles.” A mobile eyebrow flew up over laughing blue eyes. “Let me guess,” said Gilles teasingly. “You grabbed some mud and spoiled his shiny breastplate.” Mechele laughed. “I wish we’d had the chance, Gilles, I really do.” Linnet sobered. “I did something worse, I’m afraid. This time he’d come with an offer of marriage for me. Since I was unrelated by blood to Sir Dunstan, his guess was that I was in need of a husband of substance.” She snorted. “And by the Saints, he had plenty of substance to him.” Gilles drew a breath, fighting the urge to smash something. “So what happened?” he asked coolly, amazed at his own composure. Linnet glanced at Mechele, a silent plea in her eyes. Mechele finished the tale. “Linnet told him to his face, in front of his men, that she’d sooner marry a midden for muck, and that if he didn’t get his arse off our property within minutes, she’d take a scythe to whatever scrawny piece of flesh was buried between his fat thighs.” Gilles and Guy burst out laughing, and Linnet buried her face in her hands and moaned. Even Mechele was laughing now, and Gilles gently rubbed his palm across Linnet’s shoulder blades in a move that was supposed to be comforting, but was doing very nice things to his own body, too. 45

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She raised her flushed face and grinned. “And I don’t take a word of it back, either. The man is a pig, and a greedy one at that, and I am probably being unfair to pigs by using them as a comparison.” Mechele caught back a giggle and sighed. “Since then, we’ve had more demands, which we’ve managed to parry, but he’s hiring new men, unknown to us, who are harder to convince. And it’s been a difficult time. We’ve lost stock when they got into swampy fields thanks to unfortunately ‘broken’ fences. One of our wells has turned sour and is no longer usable.” “The orchard suffered a lot of serious damage in the last thunderstorm. And there have been other, minor, annoyances, all of which have made us all jumpy and nervous, but steeled us against giving in to this—blackmail of his. For we certainly believe he is behind these incidents.” “Plague take the man,” spat Guy, anger seething from his body. “To make such demands, and then resort to such underhanded trickery from spite and bile. It’s beyond words… ” With an effort, Gilles calmed his temper and organized his thoughts. “Your story certainly bears out the tales we heard, albeit from a slightly different perspective. May I ask exactly how much tribute is currently assessed to Maltby?” Linnet named a sum that made both men gasp. “You cannot be serious,” said Guy, mouth agape. “Oh never more so, Guy,” answered Mechele. “We have no notion of what is a fair assessment, we only knew what was within our bounds to pay, and what seemed fair and right. This sum was neither.” “I should say not,” said Gilles. “Such a sum would be not untoward for the richest shire in the land. Not a small estate like Maltby. Whatever possessed Lymington to put such a price on this place?” He looked at Mechele and Linnet and then he knew. Without a doubt, Lymington had seen them as the women they were. Beautiful, independent, self-possessed, and with a bearing which told all who took the time to look that there was a great deal of passionate fire buried beneath the ladylike kirtles and chaplets. After all, had not he and Guy succumbed to that very fire? Guy spoke carefully. “It is very clear that Lymington is in the wrong. His actions do not bespeak those of an honorable man, nor those of one whose interests lie in fairly submitting a tribute to his own liege Lord. You should be aware that the sum he is assessing you is more than that assessed on him by Lord Benstede. The extra would go, no doubt, into his home, his chests of gold, and his belly.” “One can only imagine what his other estates are paying, in that case,” said Linnet thoughtfully. “He must be lining his pockets very comfortably with the excess profits of his stewardship.”

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Guy and Gilles shared a look. This situation was untenable and would not be allowed to continue. Their thoughts, as always, ran together. They would find a way to stop this appalling blackmail and right a wrong that should never have happened in the first place. No one would take advantage of Maltby Abbey and its newfound successes, nor would anyone be allowed to threaten its very existence out of sheer greed and spite. And no one, no one, was going to even think about Linnet and Mechele with anything other than respect. Not while either of the Knights Elemental drew a breath. Gilles put his hand to Linnet’s chin and drew her face around so that he could look into her eyes. “You’ve told us what we need to know, sweet. Let us shoulder this burden. Send it all the way to the back of your mind. We shall deal with this matter on your behalf from now on.” Guy had pulled Mechele closer to him, almost onto his lap. “We’re here now, Mechele. Nothing can threaten you like that ever again. Certainly not Lymington. He is no more than this bug… ” Powerful fingers reached out and crushed a moth fluttering too close to the flames of the small tallow lamp that flickered on the table. Gilles’ fingers tightened on Linnet’s jaw. “I can think of most pleasant ways to distract ourselves for the rest of this night, love. What say you?”

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Chapter 8 “I…I… ” She found her wrist taken in a firm clasp and her body drawn to its full height as Gilles dragged her from her seat. She was dimly aware of Guy picking Mechele up into his arms with a strong, smooth movement. “We shall bid you sweet dreams, my friend,” he muttered as he bore his burden off into the shadows. “And you,” said Gilles, tugging now on Linnet’s arm. “But…but…I thought we…I mean…we could… ” “What, love?” asked Gilles, pulling her along behind him. “Well, I thought perhaps…the stables… ” she gasped, catching her breath as his pace quickened. He chuckled, a light hearted and sensual sound that warmed her soul, and other bits of her body as well. “No, sweetheart, no hay for us. I have other plans.” He paused at the small servants door into Maltby Abbey. “There are none to see us, love. Take me to your chamber?” Linnet glanced around, mouth dry. Gilles was right. The party had moved to the far end of the courtyard, as if by giving them privacy, the tenants were approving the actions of the four at the small table. She sighed. “Very well, this way.” He followed her silently as she made her way into the house, swearing she could feel his eyes on her backside as she mounted the stairs and led the way to her chamber. Once inside, Gilles closed the door behind him and lowered the stout bar into the lock. “Now, Linnet. It’s just the two of us. And about time too… ” Linnet’s breath quickened as the light of the candles reflected sparks from a pair of hot blue eyes. He moved closer, and she lowered her eyelids in preparation for a kiss that never came. Instead, she felt his hands, just brushing the sides of her body and sliding up to remove her chaplet and veil. Then he unfastened her hair. “Such wondrous stuff,” he murmured, sliding his hands through it and freeing the tresses to tumble loose. She opened her eyes again and watched him as he smoothed away the tangles, slowly and leisurely enjoying the feel of it between his fingers. 48

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She was confused. She wanted him badly. She was his for the taking. Why was he not taking her? Why was he playing with her hair when her whole body was throbbing with need? Didn’t he know? His gaze met hers, and her doubts flew away. He knew. Unbidden, her hands reached to his chest and began their own journey. Over the hard planes and valleys, up and down, she found a new joy in just the feel of his body beneath her palms. His eyes were practically glowing as he reached for the laces of her gown, slowly slipping them free of their knots and loosening the fabric with each tug. She daringly pulled his shirt from his breeches and groaned a little as her hands found his flesh. Burning hot and smooth to her touch, it brought a matching heat to her loins and a tremble to her hands. “Let me see you, love,” he whispered, easing her now loose kirtle off her shoulders and pushing it to the floor. He was kneeling before her and she waited for him to rise and press his hardness against her. Oh how she wanted it. But again, he surprised and confused her. Instead of rising, he placed a soft kiss on her knee. “Gilles…I…what… ” “Ssshh, Linnet. Relax and let go. Tonight you shall do naught but enjoy. I am going to love you, Linnet… ” His tongue traced its way up her inner thigh and she shivered, feeling that flames must be following its course. “Love you until you forget everything but me.” As if that was going to be a difficult task. “Truly, Gilles,” she answered softly, “I think that will be no hardship.” His eyes flickered up at her from where he knelt before her. She saw his quick grin. “Good girl,” he said, and returned to his task. Low in her belly the heat had begun, and Linnet knew her body was responding wildly to the touch of his mouth. She flinched as she felt him near the juncture of her thighs and realized he was helping himself to the moisture that had already dampened her skin. “Mmm, such a wonderful flavor you have, Mistress Linnet. All woman and desire and… ” His lips brushed her mound and her cunny and she gasped aloud. “Do you mind?” He pulled his head away slightly, almost as if he was asking her permission to continue.

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She fought the desire to reach down and thrust his head back between her legs. “Er…no,” she admitted, thinking that she had just uttered the understatement of the year. Thankfully he continued, before she fainted from the need he was arousing. His tongue swept between her parted thighs, more deliberately now, sending bolts of lightning to her spine and her brain and even her damned fingertips. Never could she remember feeling this way. Never had every single particle of her skin been so alive to another human touch. Her nipples pebbled, her mouth opened on a breath and she sighed with pleasure as his tongue found her secrets and learned the texture of her swollen folds. He nibbled and nipped and licked, his fingers slipping to her buttocks to hold her higher and align her to exactly where he wanted her. And exactly where she wanted to be. She cried out as he suckled her flesh, her hips beginning to writhe underneath the steady sweep of that loving tongue. “You like this, Linnet?” His question caught her by surprise. People didn’t talk while loving. Not in her experience, anyway. “Oh yes,” she mumbled, striving to force the words past the huge lump of lust that was swelling in her throat. “Oh yessssss…” His tongue worked her hard now, making her shake and shiver and grasp his hair as her knees weakened. She could feel every slick swipe and flick and for a moment feared she’d collapse on top of him in a mammoth eruption of desire. “Your sweet honey is flowing, Linnet. We need no bees to make it run freely, just a touch,” said Gilles, blowing his breath softly on her mound. She sighed, losing herself completely in his touches. It came as a shock when he pulled away and stood. She found herself confused again as he gently cupped her face. “Taste yourself, Linnet. Taste your sweetness, your intoxicating flavor which has put a spell on me… ” He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her passionately, opening her mouth and sliding his tongue inside. She caught a hint of him, his particular essence that had so aroused her when their lips first met. But it was mingled with a sweet tanginess, her own juices, and the erotically charged combination stirred her in places she’d never imagined. He pulled their lips apart, a sweet smile on his face. “Never have I tasted such a woman, my love.” He tugged his shirt free and off his shoulders. It fell in a soft pool on the floor next to her forgotten kirtle. “Come. It’s time we explored some more of these pleasures.”

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He stripped off his breeches and within moments had her lying on the bed. She made to move and pull back the covers, but he stilled her. “Stay, Linnet. Feel the softness beneath you.” He’d lowered her onto one of the furs that lay across her bed. Not needed during the warm months, but come winter they provided much-needed heat. Linnet paused, obeying his command. The soft stuff caressed her naked back and buttocks like the light touch of a butterfly. She squirmed her hips at the sensual brush of the hairs against her body. “‘Tis no softer than your skin, my sweet,” said Gilles, lowering his head and flicking light licking kisses across her belly and upwards to her breasts. Linnet’s head was spinning. This was…this was…extraordinary. Her whole body was melting beneath him, softening, quickening, and readying itself for his possession. And yet he was still taking his time. She could not say she was not enjoying it, for that would have been the wildest lie. It just puzzled her and caught her off guard. Never could she have imagined being loved like this. Gilles was hotter, happier and more involved with his lovemaking than he could ever recall being in his entire life. His world had narrowed down to the beautiful woman responding so willingly to his touch. Every gentle stroke, light kiss or flick of his tongue brought a moan of pleasure from her throat, and her sounds inspired him to even greater heights. And lengths. If he got much bigger or harder, he’d push her teeth out with his cock when he finally claimed her. But this loving was melting her beneath him, softening the edges of her concentration, and bringing the deeply passionate woman she was to the fore. He found her breasts. Firm, rounded, and hardened at the tips, they begged for his mouth, and he obliged, loving the sounds she made as he tugged her nipple gently into his wet warmth. He rolled it around experimentally, finding out what made her moan and what made her shiver. Leaving a dampness behind, he leaned across her and treated the other breast to the same touch. Her hands were gripping his shoulders now, nails digging into his muscles and kneading him. He doubted she was even aware of what she was doing, so involved was she in her newfound desire. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he slid a hand across her soft belly, finding her tight curls and slipping past into the drenching moisture beneath.

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Her back arched as he flicked her sensitive spots, and rubbed her juices over her mound and back down, finally, gently, slipping a finger inside her. “Ahhh, God, Gilles… ” she moaned. Her hips were writhing, her cunny growing ever hotter around his hand and finger. “You like that too, love?” He raised his head as he asked the question, the better to see her face. She moaned, and Gilles smiled. This was how he’d imagined her. Flushed and passionate, needing naught but him, his fingers, his tongue and his cock. Nothing in her mind, no thoughts of anything but him. And the pleasure he was giving her. And of course, he was happy to oblige. Never mind that his own body was ready to burst into a shower of seed, his cock struggling to release its life-giving load. He held back, gritted his teeth against the need, and continued his sensual journey over Linnet, learning her sweetness, drinking her desire, and turning her into a puddle of hot ecstasy beneath him. Finally, he could hold on no longer. Practically insensate, Linnet made no demur when he parted her thighs wide and settled himself between them. He paused, willing her to open her eyes and watch him as he finally claimed what he knew, with complete certainty, was his. His stillness must have penetrated her haze, because her beautiful brown eyes opened. Heavy lidded, she stared at him. “I am going to take you, Linnet. I can wait no longer for the feel of your silken cunny caressing my cock. Like this… ” He gently rubbed the head of his cock against her flesh, moistening it, and mixing his own drops of passion with the honey soaking her mound. She bit her lip against a cry and gasped with the pleasure of his touch. “Watch me, Linnet. Keep your eyes open and watch me. Watch me love you, Linnet… ” His voice cracked with the need he felt shivering up and down his spine. Blue eyes met brown, and Gilles gently slid his ever-so-ready cock into Linnet’s waiting body. Further and further he went, pushing easily into her hot cunny. She took him all the way in. He stopped as their bodies met in a tangle of curled hair, his balls brushing her buttocks and her thighs high and wide, grasping him now, tightly, in an embrace of need and passion. He froze. God in heaven. 52

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Her cunny was fire to his steel, a gauntlet designed just for his male hand. She fit like she’d been made just for this. For him. He sighed, knowing this moment was unique in a lifetime. And knowing that a lifetime would be too short to enjoy it. He withdrew slightly and plunged back again. The feeling grew stronger, warmer. The knowledge that she was his mate, his other half. Her passion matched his, her body melded to his, and her heart… Saints, he hoped this loving was touching her heart in the same way it was his own. “More, Gilles, more… ” she begged, writhing her hips against him in an effort to pull him back deep within her where he belonged. He was more than ready to comply. He quickened his pace, keeping his hips moving now, always moving, in and out of her fire, sometimes pressing hard against her as he plunged deep, other times just brushing her delicate flesh with his own. He raised himself a little and grasped her hips, pulling her body up from the furs and positioni ng her just where he wanted her. Where he could sink himself nigh to the womb that lay empty inside her. What he wouldn’t give to plant his seed there. To plant his future there. The thought blindsided him with its intensity. He shook a little under the force of it, the need of it, and found his shudders matched by the woman whose buttocks were clenching in his grasp. She was nearing her release. And so, to his surprise, was he. No thoughts of withdrawing and spilling himself outside her body even entered his mind. He was there to stay. To explode within her, to fill her with every ounce of himself. To claim what was most surely, completely, and unquestionably his. He increased the thrusts now, barely moving back before thrusting again. He released one buttock and slid a hand between them, finding that aroused button of flesh hard and ready for his touch. He stroked it as he sank deep within her once more. Linnet screamed and came. Gilles damned near screamed, too. His cock exploded as her cunny clamped aroundit, pulsing and shuddering as her body spasmed beneath him, milking him, pulling him ever deeper until he could swear he felt her womb as it drank everything he had to give. His buttocks locked, his balls ached, and he let the fire sweep from his heels to his ears as he emptied himself into the woman of his heart.

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It had never, ever, been like this for him. His spasms seemed endless, and the slightest move brought Linnet to the peak once more, her gasps mirroring his own as she clamped her thighs to his body with a fierce passion. Finally, breathless, their bodies surrendered and softened, weak from their loving, and sated after a release that left them both stunned and helpless. Gilles slowly eased his cock from Linnet’s body, and with a gentle sigh rolled to her side, gathering her in his arms and holding her tight. She still shivered with the aftershocks of the experience, and Gilles was astounded to realize that he had tears on his cheeks. She’d touched him, somewhere new, somewhere vulnerable, somewhere he’d never been touched before. Sighing, he admitted the truth. She hadn’t only claimed his cock, she’d claimed his heart. The tournament was hers. He ’d surrendered. Cried for mercy like the veriest squire out-manned in his first challenge. He was in love with Linnet Aylmer.

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Chapter 9 The experience of being swept up once more into Guy’s arms made Mechele’s senses swim. He strode rapidly along the dark path to the barn, in spite of the burden he bore, and she felt his heartbeat pounding against her body. It was thrilling, exciting, and arousing all at once. Daringly she raised her face to his neck and pressed her lips to the slightly prickly skin she felt there. Oh how she wanted this. His arms clasped her tighter still, holding her high against him, as if to make her kisses easier for her. Obeying an impulse, she ran her tongue along his jaw, and a slight murmur burst from him. “Damn it, Mechele, I shall come right here if you keep that up,” he muttered, moving even faster and entering the shadows of the barn. Without a hitch in his stride, he carried her up the wooden steps to the loft where he and Gilles had slept. The upper doors were open to let in the moonlight and the cool night breezes. Mechele shivered. Not with cold, but with heat. He lowered her to her feet and his hands went to her breast, grasping the low neckline of her kirtle and with one savage tug ripping it from her body. She found herself hurriedly pulling at his shirt, fumbling with his laces, desperate now for the sight and the touch and the feel of his body. He helped her, tearing away his clothes until he was as naked as she. His gray eyes glowed with fire, and he pulled her hard against him, letting her feel his body, his cock and his rapid pulse as his lips claimed hers. Hard and demanding, his kiss sent her mind into a whirl of desire. She clutched at him, digging her nails into his back, sliding her hands to his buttocks, and learning his body as thoroughly as he was learning hers. He was all hard angles and muscles and his heat burned her palms as she discovered the joy of touching him. “By the Saints, Mechele,” he whispered through their kiss. “I want you.” His words urged her on. She was astonished at the savage need that swept through her. The unleashing of some deep dark fire of desire that she’d never imagined she possessed.

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He released her lips and she dropped her head to his chest, desperate to taste and touch and feel… Her hands threaded through the whorls of black hair she found rubbing against her and brushed against a flat nipple. His shiver was all the response she needed. She lowered her lips and suckled on him, bringing more shivers and a moan of pleasure to his throat. “You taste so…so… ” she mumbled, finding the other nipple and treating it to the same loving. “As do you, sweet,” he answered, his voice rough. His huge cock was pressed to her belly and she felt shudders exploding within her at the thought of being possessed by him, by his length and his heat. He swept her yet again into his arms, refusing to let her move her head from his chest, just holding it there until he tumbled them both onto the blankets spread across the hay. Then his mouth claimed hers once again as his hands began to learn every inch of her softness. The hay was covered, but still stuck through, pressing its sharp points into her back like thousands of tiny pinpricks. None hurt, but the effect on Mechele was astounding. She gasped as his weight pushed her even further into the hay. It was as if every nerve, every little spot of skin she owned was being stimulated in a new and arousing way. And of course, Guy’s hands and mouth were doing a fine job too. His fingers dove between her thighs, pushing, feeling, plundering the treasures he found there. His lips gravitated to her breasts and with one great gasp he suckled her in his turn. His tongue clamped around her nipple, holding it tight, almost painfully so, to the roof of his mouth, as he sucked. Combined with the devastation his hand was wreaking, Mechele sobbed in delirious pleasure. She writhed and squirmed and opened her thighs wider, encouraging him, needing him, wanting him beyond anything she’d ever experienced. This was no gentle lovemaking. This was true heartfelt desire and passion, and she couldn’t get enough of it. “More, Guy, more,” she moaned. It seemed he was happy to oblige. He plunged two fingers deep inside her, pulling back and fixing her gaze with his as he moved within her. “Mine, Mechele, mine,” he whispered savagely. 56

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“Yes, oh yes,” she groaned, lifting her hips to encourage him. He lowered his head to her belly and licked a path to her navel, pausing to drop little soft bites on the delicate skin. His fingers never let up their teasing, stimulating movements, and he pressed his thumb hard into the flesh beneath her mound, finding her most sensitive spot and abrading it with a roughness that was like to drive her out of her mind. His rough cheeks grazed her skin deliciously, the prickle of his beard stubble matching the prickle of the hay on her back. He withdrew his fingers from her cunny and she groaned at the loss. Then he replaced them with his mouth and she groaned again, but this time for the sheer thrill of his touch. He devoured her with his tongue, thrusting deep into her, replacing his fingers with fierce flicks and nips that she had never realized she’d needed so badly. She was soaked in her own juices and he sucked them greedily, slurping and eating her passion, then baring his teeth and grazing that little bud of flesh to send shivers of pleasure through her entire body. His beard rubbed her thighs, abrading the soft skin to the point of pain, and she wouldn’t have stopped it if she could. And she couldn’t. Guy’s hands were like tempered steel on her hips, holding her tight, moving her this way and that, and leaving branded scars of passion on her soul. He rose, towering over her in the moonlight, all heat and desire and man. His eyes flared and his cock found her. He thrust deep, never stopping until he was seated to the hilt in her willing body. “Taste yourself, Mechele,” he muttered and crushed her lips beneath his. Between the feel of his cock stretching her and the force of his kiss on hers, Mechele was lost. His tongue dueled with hers, each parrying, back and forth, in an imitation of the act that was to follow. She tasted the rough desire and man that was Guy, and also the sweetness of her own juices. She wanted more. Guy obliged. He was beside himself with a rare blend of lust, need and passion. His ordered and logical brain was in a tangle, and he was driven purely by his basic desire to claim this woman as his own. Her taste was beyond compare, her sexuality matched his in every way, and he wanted to lose himself in it and her for the rest of eternity.

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The incredible feel of her hot silken cunny as he thrust himself inside her and filled her to both their limits, had shaken him more than he could have imagined. Her nipples were hard points beneath his chest and her mouth seemed as eager to devour him as he was to return the favor. He thrust hard against her. She met each and every move with a parry of her own, challenging him, encouraging him, urging him on to greater and greater heights. Or depths. Or whatever. He stifled a groan as his cock met her womb and trembled. Lowering himself back to his elbows he grasped her and rolled them over in the hay, not caring that they’d rumpled the blankets beyond repair, just itching to get deeper into her body, her heart and her soul. He stopped on his back, with his cock still buried deep in Mechele. She paused, then straightened, a light in her hazel eyes betraying her curiosity and interest in this new position. She settled herself, quickly adapting to her own ability to control their movements. She raised up and slid back down onto his cock with a gasp of pleasure. “Ride me, Mechele,” he hissed. “Ride me.” Her nails dug into his chest and she complied, moving rhythmically above him, stroking him, sucking him deep within her and then sliding away from him again. She might have been born for this, was his random thought, as he watched her toss her fair hair back from her face and felt it cascade over his thighs behind her. Her eyes were closed, her neck muscles taut, and her body—ahhh, her body. Luscious and ripe, her breasts swung as she moved, and he could not resist reaching for her nipples. Obligingly she lowered herself, welcoming his touch with a moan. He briefly glanced around and grabbed a small bale of hay, using it as a pillow and raising the upper half of his body a little. Now he could play. Mechele continued to stroke him with her cunny, making his teeth ache in an effort to control the fire within him that threatened to erupt any second. He slipped a hand around her buttocks and moistened his fingers in her honey which had bathed them both. He caressed her buttocks, and found the crevice between them, tracing it with his hand until she gasped in surprise. “You’ll like this, love, trust me,” he said, his voice catching as he pressed a finger against her arse. “Oh yes, oh yes,” she cried, never breaking her pace yet eager for each new and astounding thing he could show her.

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He pressed, and his finger penetrated her, making her shudder and cry out at the intrusion. His cock felt as long as his broadsword now, and her body was doing all the claiming. She welcomed his finger as she had his cock, with desire and heat and everything she possessed. It was as if their loving had unleashed a wildness within her that could not be quenched by anything or anyone but him. She was panting now, slowing a little as her legs bore the weight of her body in its unaccustomed movements. Once again he pulled his hands from her softness and rolled them back, sliding over to the tumble of blankets, aware of the poke of the hay on his legs and shoulders. “Are you uncomfortable?” he ground out, needing to ask, but finding it hard to hear her answer. “Only if you stop,” she gasped, reaching for his buttocks and pulling him once again tight to her body. He felt like a spell had been cast on him. His thrusts gained force, and he pounded her almost savagely, watching her face as she answered each of his moves with one of her own. Her passion was boundless, her body willing and able to take what he gave and return it with demands for more. His hand found her mound and pressed hard, pinching the erect bud of flesh between his fingers, and rubbing against it as his body plundered hers. Mechele gasped and trembled, her muscles taut, her expression fierce. “More, Guy, more,” she sobbed, hands writhing in the hay, in his hair, on his back, on whatever lay within her grasp. Sweat was pouring from Guy now, and he lowered his head and suckled her nipple roughly into his mouth. Her fingers tightened and he felt her nails pierce the skin of his buttocks. He’d bear the scars proudly. He bit down carefully on the hard nipple, and timed his actions with the deepest hardest thrust he’d ever experienced. Mechele exploded beneath him. She reared up, sobbing, gasping and her cunny clamped around his cock like an iron fist. It sent him over the edge and he flew, propelled into the greatest release of his life. His buttocks tightened, tingles ran down his spine, and little flashes of light danced behind his eyes. His balls sang with it, his cock pulsed in time with her cunny and he roared out his heart as his body filled hers with his seed. “Mechele,” he cried, crushing his body into hers. 59

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“God,” she sobbed, and bit him. The slight pain simply amplified his orgasm, sending thunderbolts into his brain and through his cock as it once more spasmed inside her. It seemed to Guy that he was drowning in her. His ability to breathe had left him, his mind was lost, and his cock was the focus of his soul as it drained itself into the willing cunnikin that even now was rippling still along his length. He spent every last drop into Mechele. He could no more have withdrawn than cut his own arm off. Finally, muscles eased, breaths were caught, and the two bodies eased carefully apart, awash in sweat, sticky with their own juices and sated with emotions that defied description. Some practical part of Guy’s mind still functioned on a primitive level, and he pulled them both onto the blanket, tugging another up to cover their bodies against the chill of the night air. Chill? He mentally chuckled. He’d need no blankets while Mechele was with him. She sighed softly, and raised a hand to brush his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Guy. Did I hurt you?” He cuddled her to him, running his hands up and down her spine, loving the feel of her damp skin beneath his palms. “Shouldn’t I be asking that question, love?” he chuckled, dropping a light kiss on her nose. “You would never hurt me. I am as sure of that as I am my own name,” she whispered, peppering his shoulder and arm with light kisses of her own. “Mechele, ah, Mechele,” he murmured, relishing her every move. “You made me feel so much, Guy, so very much,” she mumbled, sinking deeper into his arms and closing her eyes. “It was wonderful.” Yes, thought Guy as he watched his woman fall asleep in his embrace. It was indeed. His heart turned over as he settled them both comfortably. She’d aroused him and fulfilled his every wish, his every thought, his every move. It had been an experience that had stunned him, shocked him with its intensity, and reached down inside him to the depths of his very soul. He accepted his fate. He was helplessly caught in the toils of this warm and passionate woman and a glow spread through him at the realization of exactly what that glow meant. He’d fallen in love with Mechele Trenowyth.

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Chapter 10 Linnet stirred sleepily, aware of a warmth that almost smothered her. A strong arm was resting across her breasts, and her body was pinned by a thigh that weighed a ton. She grinned and turned her head to see Gilles watching her from very wide-awake blue eyes. “You’re smiling, sweet,” he whispered, settling himself even more comfortably against her softness. “Would you have expected anything else, this fine morning?” she answered with a satisfied sigh. “No.” “Gilles,” she said hesitantly, dropping her eyes from his. “What, love?” he asked quietly. Linnet paused, and lowered her eyes, unsure of herself for the first time she could remember. There were questions trembling on her lips that she was afraid to ask, but the gentle movement of his mouth against her shoulder reassured her. “Was…last night…what we did together,” she drew a breath and shivered a little as her breasts brushed his arm. “Well, what I mean to say is, did you…have you… ” Her words trailed off as Gilles’ hand moved and stroked low on her belly. “Linnet, there are no words in this poor Knight’s brain to fully describe what happened between us last night,” he answered. She glanced up again and saw his eyes shine. “It was beyond belief. Feeling myself within you, sharing with you, filling you with my seed. I am still reeling from it. In fact, I’m faint from the pleasure of it.” Linnet smothered a giggle and tried to frown at him. “I’m being serious here, Gilles,” she reprimanded him gently. “I know, love. As am I. Your loving is something special, Linnet, the likes of which I’ve never experienced before.” Linnet sighed with relief. He’d felt it too. Her body stirred beneath his, and she found herself turned and pulled hard against his. Her buttocks nestled neatly against his cock, which rubbed firmly against her. It seemed that this man was inexhaustible. “Sore, my Linnet?” he asked softly, slipping his hands between her legs and playing gently within her growing moisture. “Oh no,” she sighed.

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“Raise your leg, love,” he urged, lifting her thigh with his strong hand. Willingly she obeyed, a slave to his every command, melting beneath the kisses he was raining across her neck and shoulders, every inch of her body aware of his heat. Slowly, oh so slowly, he slid his cock into her cunny from behind. She was warm from sleep, relaxed and sticky from their night of passion, and this gentle possession sealed her bliss. She could do nothing but sigh her pleasure as once again, Gilles filled her emptiness and her heart. “God, I love you, Gilles… ” The words fell from her mouth before she had time to consider them. She froze. Had she said too much too soon? By speaking those words had she offered him the one weapon with which he could destroy her? Would his passion grow cool now, his desire for the chase met, and her surrender complete? His movements slowed a little then picked up again, sliding in and out of her relaxed body with a soft and smoothly arousing pace. “Before I met and kissed you, Linnet, I had no heart. I swear it. I’ve had women, certainly, but none touched me like you.” His hips moved behind her, thrusting deeper now. “None have moved me like you do. None excited me or drove me insane with the wanting of them.” His hands busied themselves around her mound, making her breath come faster now, and her eyes roll shut as she explored these new sensations. It took little time for them both to be trembling on the brink of release, and as he took his final thrust, bringing them both to the peak, Gilles leaned in close to her ear. “If this is love, then I love you, sweet Linnet. Only you. No one before you, and for certain no one ever, like this again… ” His words culminated in a choking cry, and once more, the Sun Knight filled his woman with his loving and held her as she shouted her own release into the slowly lightening chamber.

***** As one couple explored new sensual experiences together, another couple wakened to the soft sound of birds and the harsh crow of the rooster in the barnyard below them. Mechele shifted slightly, and nuzzled Guy’s neck. She was warm, content, a little stiff, had a thousand tiny little bits of hay digging into her flesh, and had never been happier.

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She opened her eyes to see Guy’s throat in front her, his pulse beating steadily at its base. Carefully, she eased herself away, not wanting to disturb the sleep that he’d so magnificently earned. He snuffled, fidgeted, and then rolled onto his back. Mechele’s lips curved in a wicked grin as she ran her eyes down his body. The covers had fallen off him, and he was proving that even in sleep, this Knight’s weapon was truly a thing of awe. Rearing up from its bed of black curls, Guy’s cock was apparently the first thing to wake in the mornings, since Guy himself slumbered on. She stared at it, seeing for the first time the ridges and veins and the firm edge that surrounded the head. The rising sun sparkled slightly as a drop of his seed bubbled from the very tip. It was too much for her, and she slithered quietly down beside him to take a close look. After all, how often did a woman get to wake up next to something like this? Mechele reached out a tentative hand and delicately touched the drop of liquid, bringing her fingertip to her mouth and tasting Guy for the first time. He was salty sweet and tangy, and her mouth watered. Bravely she leaned across his body, careful not to disturb him, just letting her hair fall gently onto his thighs. Her tongue slipped from between her teeth and tested the length of his cock, lightly stroking from base to tip. She pulled away, and flashed a glance at Guy’s face. He was still asleep. Mechele smiled. This particular Sunday must be her lucky day. She bent back to her investigations with renewed enthusiasm. Guy was not, however, asleep. As if a man could sleep when his woman was looking at his cock like it was a rare delicacy, and even daring to taste him when she thought she wasn’t looking. He snapped his eyes shut again as she moved, wondering how far this amazing journey would go. He was about to find out. A sigh gusted from his lungs as he felt Mechele’s hot mouth descend over the head of his cock, and he could no longer maintain his pretense. She pulled back and glanced at him, her hazel eyes a beautiful mix of desire and anxiety. “Did I wake you, Guy? Is this wrong? I’m sorry…I’ll…” She made to pull back, but Guy’s hand flew to her head and stayed her right where she was. 63

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“You didn’t wake me, love. I think perhaps I’m still dreaming. To feel your mouth on me, there, is a dream beyond imagining.” A truly wicked grin crossed Mechele’s face. “Really?” She lowered her head, grasped his cock in her hand and twinkled at him over its head. “Are you quite sure?” Guy gritted his teeth. She’d be the death of him once she learned the power of that mouth. Mechele didn’t wait for an answer, but slid her lips back down over his cock, learning its surface with her tongue, and driving Guy right off the brink of pleasure into a sea of sensation. Many women had sucked him, it was a safe and pleasant way to achieve release and leave no bastards in one’s wake. But this…these light touches, these loving suckles, and that, the ever deepening movements she made, taking him almost to her throat, were rendering him near unconscious with pleasure. With a natural move, she slid her hand through her own moisture, slicking the surface of his cock and letting her hand slide up and down in time with her mouth. How the hell had she worked that out, part of his mind wondered, while the rest of him dissolved into a heap of bliss. It seemed as if she would be happy to keep this up, but as she moved, her breasts were brushing his thigh, and combined with her tongue and her hand, Guy was becoming every bit as hard as his reputation. Harder, in fact. He could scent her now, her arousal obviously coming from what she was doing. Damn. It was making her excited too. His balls tightened and he knew he was within seconds of exploding down her throat. He couldn’t—not yet. It was too soon in their growing attachment. Swiftly he sat up and pulled her across his body to straddle him. “Mechele, you push me to my limits. Turn about is fair play.” He grinned at her as he grabbed her hips and lowered her onto his shining cock. She was all silken heat and fire, and she settled herself onto him as if it was the most natural place in the world for her to be. And perhaps, thought Guy in a moment of blinding clarity, perhaps it was. He pushed upwards slightly as she sighed with pleasure. “Touch yourself, sweet. Let me see you touch yourself… ” Mechele paused, looking at him uncertainly. “Let me know where you find the most pleasure. Teach me about you, sweet. Be assured I’m an excellent student.”

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The sensual smile that he knew was curving his lips seemed to give her the courage to follow his commands, and she slipped her hands to her waist, sliding them up her body and cupping her breasts with them. Guy groaned, unable to look away, as Mechele threw her head back and framed her body with her glorious mass of rumpled hair. She raised her hands slightly, pulling her nipples and rolling them between her fingers, eyes closed, and body throbbing around his. She moaned, and slipped one hand away and down to her woman’s hair to further increase her arousal. It was incredible. Guy’s breath almost stopped as he tried to drink in the image of Mechele loving him, clutching his cock with her inner muscles, and giving way to her own passions as she rode him. His heart thundered, his pulse roared in his ears, and his awareness of the rest of the world totally disappeared. There was nothing but her. Mechele. His woman. It was almost too much. He sat up abruptly and struggled to resettle her in his lap, pulling and tugging her legs until they were crossed behind him, her heels digging into his buttocks. “Guy… ” she murmured, quickly finding the advantages of this new position. “Yes,” he answered absently, concentrating now on the slide of her body as he moved himself within her. It took no time at all for two hearts to race towards their goal. Two bodies fell into the coordinated rhythm that led to the final measure, and shortly thereafter, the rooster was rudely disturbed from his morning routine by the cries of completion echoing from the open doors to the barn loft. He crowed in response, but his call lacked the passion of his competitors. The rooster couldn’t have cared less, but Guy and Mechele cared—almost too much. Collapsed in a sweaty tumble, their breaths finally began to slow. “Guy,” breathed Mechele, burying her face into his chest. “You make me feel so— so wanton.” Guy’s chuckle rumbled through him, bringing a smile to her lips. “There’s nothing wanton about our pleasure, Mechele. It is beyond all words.” He turned her head gently with his hand and forced her hazel eyes to meet his gaze. “I find this a moment for honesty between us, sweetheart. Your touch, your loving, your body, and your mind have claimed me, as surely as an invading army conquers an unprotected castle.”

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He dropped a soft kiss on her lips to stay her answer. “Let me finish.” She sighed and subsided again, listening and watching and answering his touches with light touches of her own lips. “I think I knew from the first that you would be—would be—different,” he said quietly, praying that the Saints would send him the right words, and that she ’d not be frightened by what he was going to say. He was frightened enough for both of them. “But last night, and now this morning, I realized something very important. Something that changed my life. Something that has changed me.” He raised up on one elbow and looked down on her lovely face, flushed a little from their earlier bout of pleasure. He stroked an errant strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear in a gentle movement that pleased him and brought a sigh of happiness to her lips. “I’m in love with you, Mechele. So head-over-arse in love with you that even now, minutes after taking you, I want you again. I can’t imagine not wanting you. I want you in every way there is, and not just your body, either… ” He grinned, running his hand lightly down over her hips and back up again. “Although a very nice body it is, I must say.” She stared at him and he could read the questions in her eyes. “I’m a Knight. I number almost thirty summers to my life. I have fought in many battles, and killed my enemies as knights must. I have had many women. But none, not one, has made me feel like this… ” He stroked her face. “None have made me feel something precious, something special, in a place I never knew existed. None made me want to hold them all day and all night, waking the next morning to spend a new day holding them all over again.” Mechele eyes filled with tears and she sighed. “None,” he continued, “have made me want to fill them with my babes, cherish them, make them laugh and dry their tears. You’ve done all this, my love, and you’ve made me realize that I truly do possess a heart. It is filled with you.” He lowered his lips and claimed hers, gently, possessively, and let the tremors of his emotions free to shudder through his body. Mechele dashed the tears from her eyes. “Guy… ” she whispered, pulling his head to her breast and laying it down, tucking her chin into his hair. “Guy, I could not love you more had I an eternity to try.” Guy’s heart beat strongly as a rare contentment flooded his brain and his body. The North Wind had been softened by a pair of hazel eyes. She was his. All his.

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Chapter 11 As the leisurely Sunday morning routines unfolded at Maltby Abbey, Guy and Gilles returned to their barnyard quarters and dressed for the day, after a restorative dip in the cool waters of what they now regarded as their private bathing pond. They’d left their ladies to their duties, lingering farewells having taken more time than either of them had thought, and Linnet had sent a message to the local cleric asking that church services be held an hour later that day in honor of some Saint or other’s birthday. Mechele had laughed at her. “Good grief, Linnet. What will everyone think?” Linnet had grinned back. “Do you worry?” “Not in the least. In truth, an hour’s grace will be most welcome. I’m in sore need of a bath.” The girls had shared a chuckle at that one and hurried to their chambers, leaving their men sharing identically satisfied smiles. Which they had, of course, immediately wiped off their faces as soon as they’d realized it. “So,” said Guy, from the depths of his shirt. “Well,” said Gilles, struggling into his breeches and hopping on one foot. “It looks as if we’re truly defeated, my friend.” Guy’s words were accompanied by a smile that belied his nickname. There was nothing cold about those gray eyes this particular morning. “That snapping noise you hear is my white flag of surrender flying in the breeze,” chuckled Gilles. “She’s my mate, Guy. Linnet Aylmer has laid siege to my heart and last night the barbican tumbled, the portcullis rose—did it ever— and her victory was complete.” He paused. “And never have I felt better about anything.” Guy slapped his friend on the shoulder. “I too, Gilles. Mechele is—is—” He looked up and laughed as he watched an eyebrow quirk over a pair of merry blue eyes. “I know. The North Wind never stutters. That’ll tell you how deeply I feel for this woman. She’s mine, Gilles. No question, no negotiation. She’s mine.” “So now, before we claim our prizes, all we need to do is settle this mess with Lymington.” Gilles brought them back to earth with a thump. “Well, that shouldn’t be too hard, knowing what we know now. About the amount of the tribute. I certainly would like to get a good look at Lymington’s accounting. Lord Benstede has never mentioned receiving anything above that man’s set tribute, so I’ll bet my warhorse that he’s withholding a lot of it for his own coffers.”

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Gilles frowned. “I wonder at Benstede. ‘Tis out of character for him to leave such a man in charge of a shire like this.” Guy shrugged. “It’s a big country, my friend. Since peace finally arrived, there’s been much sorting out of properties to be done. No one can be everywhere at once. And you know the journey we’ve been on. It’s taken us months just to visit and observe four shires. Now multiply that by I don’t know how many other shires, and you’ll see why one Lord cannot possibly keep track of every single estate.” Gilles nodded. “Sometimes, I suppose, it’s easier to let those in charge remain in charge. They are supposed to know the land and its people, and… ” He paused, lifting his head slightly as a breeze blew in through the open doors. Guy, pulling on his boot, also stopped dead. “Do you smell that?” “Smoke.” Before the word was out of his mouth, Guy was down the stairs with Gilles right behind him. They’d fought in too many battles to mistake the smell for a cooking fire, or anything other than what it was. Somewhere, somewhere very near, a building was burning.

***** With unthinking coordination, Guy ran for the pump next to the house, while Gilles ran for the courtyard and yelled “Fire”. His battle cry echoed around the tranquil morning air and brought people to the doors of their homes. “Fire, Fire,” he bellowed, running to join Guy at the pump and hunting for the source of the smoke. His steps took him to the rear of Maltby Abbey. There, leaning against the stone foundation, was a large pile of logs, burning with a fierce crackle and shooting flames upwards towards the wooden floors above. The windows had been left open during the cool early summer night, and smoke must even now be filling the rooms. Guy gasped as a flickering tongue of flame found a new home in the overhanging eaves. Sparing a prayer of thanks that this was not a thatched house, he turned to the pump, and began working it for all he was worth. Within moments a flood of people clustered around him, and Gilles spent the next precious minutes getting them organized.

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In next to no time a line of buckets stretched the short distance from the fire to the pump and water was being thrown frantically on the logs and the smoldering shingles above it. The blacksmith ran up with his ladder and daringly placed it against the house, diverting some of the buckets to his hands as he climbed and bravely coughed his way through the billowing smoke to attack the flames from above. Guy’s shoulders were aching with the speed of his movements, and Gilles was about to relieve him when they both realized something. “The girls… ” The two men blanched. “Guy, Gilles… ” a frightened voice called out from the crowd. “We’re here… ” Breathless, Mechele and Linnet came flying up the line of buckets to their men. Linnet’s hair was unbound, and Mechele’s dress barely laced. They panted, and their fear was plain to see. “We’re all right, Gilles. Just smoke filled. The upper rooms are just awful, the stench is powerful and the air thick. But… ”she choked on her words. “Sir Dunstan,” gasped Mechele. “Sir Dunstan and his servant, Guy. They’re too slow…we can’t help them… ” Without a second thought, Guy passed the pumping duties to the second man in line and he and Gilles ran flat out to the burning house leaving two terrified women in their wake. Pulling open the large front doors, a gust of smoke welcomed them, but not, as yet, any hot jets of flame. The sound of coughing led them through the murk to the main staircase, where two figures were struggling to make haste and failing. It was the work of but a moment for each Knight to shoulder a frail burden, and stumble back out the front door with their precious cargo. Their women awaited them, buckets of water and wet cloths at the ready. Gilles gently laid Sir Dunstan on the trestle table that remained on the courtyard from the night before. The old man coughed and labored for his breath, as his servant leaned next to him, fighting to hold his own weight and clear his lungs of the smoky residue. “Any more in there?” snapped Guy. “I think not,” answered Mechele, trying to catch her breath. “It was only the family on the second floor. The servants were below and all were able to get out before…before…the smoke filled the upper rooms first, you see.” Guy nodded and heaved a quick sigh of relief, making him cough. “Tend to them, Linnet,” rasped Gilles. “We must go back to the pump.”

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Linnet and Mechele nodded, bending over Sir Dunstan with worried looks and murmurs. The two men ran back to the pump, and for the next chaotic hour took turns filling and carrying and pumping for all they were worth. The fire had tried hard to devour the fuel lying in its path, but eventually, the smoke died down, and there was naught left but ash and charred blackened timbers to mark its passage. Several men had latched ropes to the logs remaining in the woodpile and pulled them away from the house, leaving a dark smear of soot on the stone foundation. By this time, the entire crowd was hot, sweaty, smoke-stained and exhausted. They sank to the ground, almost too tired for thought, let alone conversation. A horse cantered into the courtyard, its hooves clattering on the cobblestones, and an elderly priest dismounted, concern written across his wrinkled face. “I saw the smoke from the church. What on earth happened? Is everyone all right? My word… ” His voice trailed off as he surveyed the limp and weary throng, and his eyes betrayed his relief at seeing Sir Dunstan, Linnet and Mechele amongst their number. Linnet rose tiredly to her feet, followed by Mechele. Their men were behind them instantly, in a move of support and protection that was not lost on the sharp-eyed man. “We are all well, Father Michael. Thank you for coming.” “My dear, that is good news. I cannot believe that this should happen now, on top of your other disasters.” Guy and Gilles took a long look at the priest. He was tall, with broad shoulders that might well have once worn armor like theirs. His eyes were shrewd, calculating, and looking them over much as he was being evaluated in his turn. With a little nod he glanced at the structure. “Any idea what set it off?” “Good question, Father,” said Gilles respectfully. “My friend and I smelled the smoke first thing, and sent up the alarm, but it was burning quite strongly by the time we got the pump going and buckets to it.” Mechele spared a moment to introduce the men to each other, and with a mere raised eyebrow, Father Michael nodded and crossed to the still-smoldering pile of wood. Under the watchful eyes of the tired crowd, he poked his toe amongst the ashes and carefully withdrew a singed branch. “That wood was green, Father. Shouldn’t have burned like that. Wasn’t ready for use for at least another season.” A firm voice came from the crowd, as a smoke-stained man stepped forward.

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Linnet nodded. “Edwin has the right of it, Father. We’d never stack seasoned wood against the house. That would be the height of foolishness.” “Some of those logs came from our orchard not more than a couple of months ago when a storm took so many down,” added Mechele. Guy and Gilles frowned, as their thoughts moved inevitably to Lymington. The Father raised the wood to his nose and sniffed. “By the Saints,” he muttered, and beckoned the two men to his side. Without hesitation he offered them the piece of wood. “What think you two?” Guy sniffed and his eyes narrowed. Gilles took one whiff and jerked his head up. “Greek fire.” The words spilled from both men at practically the same moment. The men looked at each other, recognizing that particular stench. Father Michael nodded. “Last time I smelled that foul odor was in the middle of a siege. Many years past now, I thank the Lord, but once encountered it can never be forgotten.” Gilles eyed the man respectfully. “I take it you’ve not always embraced the cloth, Father?” “And I take it you two are no field workers?” The quick parry brought a little smile to Guy’s face. “It seems we all share a history of engaging in the service of our Lords, Father.” The ice had been broken and the three men spoke quietly as the crowd moved to disperse. The immediate danger was past, and now the clean up would begin. Linnet and Mechele joined the men by the woodpile. “You are lucky to have such strong arms at your service, ladies,” said Father Michael, clearly not missing the quick way in which Guy’s eyes searched out Mechele’s or the automatic lifting of Gilles’ arm to encompass Linnet’s waist as she moved to his side. “Indeed we are thankful, Father,” she said, trying to stem the little quiver in her voice. “And they saved Sir Dunstan and Bodkin as well. Carried them from the building. I cannot even begin to think what would have happened… ” added Mechele, tears trembling on her lashes. Guy’s strong arm circled her shoulders. “It’s over and we must look ahead now. There are some questions to be answered here, Mechele.” Gilles nodded his agreement. “Some very pertinent questions, I think.” Father Michael strolled around, stroking his chin, and watched by four pairs of curious eyes. He moved through some bushes and disappeared for a moment, only to reappear with a thoughtful look on his face.

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“Gentlemen, ladies, if you have a moment… ” He beckoned to them and disappeared once more into the brush. Curious, the four followed his steps and found themselves at the side of the small lane that led from the homes surrounding Maltby Abbey to the fields. The grassy verge was muddy in places, and they moved as one to examine the spot to which Father Michael was pointing with a long finger. Linnet and Mechele squinted in confusion at the churned and muddy patch, trying to make heads or tails of what they were supposed to be looking at. To Guy and Gilles, however, squatting interestedly by the dampness, the signs were clear. “Two of ‘em, I’d say,” said Guy. “Yes indeed. And look here, only one lightened the load on the horse. So the other must have held the reins and played lookout while the other did the deed.” Gilles leaned even closer. “And this—see this?” Guy’s eyes narrowed. “I do indeed. ‘Tis a poor blacksmith that uses cracked horseshoes for his customers.” “What’s the betting we’ll find such a shoe amongst Lymington’s horses?” “Or those of his men.” Father Michael sighed. “God forgive me for what I am about to say, but that man is a bastard and has only gotten worse with time. I was mightily glad to hear that Lord Benstede had finally chosen to honor us with a visit. It is my hope that his wisdom may be prevailed upon to rid us all of this fat slug who preys upon this shire unchecked, like a leech.” Guy and Gilles rose to their full height. “Father, we rode in Lord Benstede’s train for these last several months, and both Gilles and I have the greatest respect for his sense of justice. You may rest assured that this act will not go unnoticed… ” said Guy firmly. “Nor unpunished.” Gilles finished. Father Michael looked at the two men standing tall before him, noting the storm clouds in the gray eyes and the ice that chilled the blue ones. He made the sign of the cross over them and watched as all four dropped respectfully to one knee by the side of the quiet lane. “May God bless your endeavors, gentlemen, and add strength to your arms and wisdom to your thoughts and deeds. I might also ask him to bring warmth to your hearts, but my suspicion is that you’ve already found a way to do that… ” Linnet and Mechele fidgeted slightly at these teasing words, each dipping her head to hide her blushes. Their men knew no such scruples, and their expressions lightened with quick smiles.

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“Now, methinks I must help where I can and spend time with poor Sir Dunstan. I shall be available to Lord Benstede. Should he require any services from a man of God, just send word to the church.” He nodded at them as they rose and strode briskly through the bushes back to Maltby Abbey. The four stared after him. “A fine priest,” said Gilles respectfully. “And one hell of a Knight once upon a time, I’ll warrant,” added Guy. “At this point, he could have been King for all I care,” sighed Linnet, brazenly hugging every bit of Gilles she could get her hands on. Mechele said nothing, just went to Guy and buried her face in his strong chest. Folding their loves in their arms, the men returned to the mess and debris of the blaze. They now had a job to do. Not a job for Guy and Gilles. A job for the Knights Elemental.

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Chapter 12 It was a dark night and offered plenty of cover for the two men moving silently through the quiet lanes. “It was well thought out, you know,” said Gilles softly, striding along beside his companion. “It was indeed,” agreed Guy. Maltby Abbey had returned to some semblance of normalcy, although the second floor was still all but uninhabitable because of the smell of smoke. Their women were tucked into a large first floor chamber, along with Sir Dunstan, his servant and several of the maids. Much to their chagrin, Guy and Gilles had been forced to forgo a night in their respective lovers’ arms. It was decided that this was, in fact, an ideal chance for them to begin to close the jaws of justice on Baron Lymington. And paying a nighttime visit to his stables was a small but vital first step. “It was a damned lucky thing we repaired that pump a while ago,” thought Gilles aloud. “And fortunate too, that Linnet had set church services back an hour, or the place would have been practically deserted.” Guy added his own thoughts. “It would have burned to the ground, Guy. Thus allowing Lymington the opportunity to take it over completely. And Linnet and Mechele… ” “…Would have had few options. I know.” The steel in Guy’s voice could have felled an oak. “The man is truly a bastard. Father Michael spoke the truth.” “Interesting man, that one. I’d love to hear some of his stories some time… ” mused Gilles, carefully placing his feet in the soft grass as they neared Lymington. “Indeed we shall,” muttered Guy, narrowly missing a puddle. “We’re staying then?” “Have you any doubts?” Gilles chuckled quietly. “Nary a one, my friend. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” Guy laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. No more need be said between them. And indeed no more could be said, as they had reached the outskirts of Lymington and silence was now a necessity.

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Skirting the outlying cottages, the men made their way to the large barn that housed the riding horses belonging to Lymington and his men. The door was ajar, and the soft sound of horses was the only sound breaking the night air. It would appear that Lymington was as sloppy about his household as he was about his accounts, thought Guy, for there were no guards or men protecting the stable and the valuable beasts it sheltered. Gilles beckoned him into the darkness and the two made their way slowly down the stalls, immediately dismissing the smaller and older mounts. Guy knew what they were looking for, and there…two or three horses that had the look of strength about them. The end stalls were housing animals that had clearly never pulled a plow. Without a sound, the two men neared the stalls and entered each one, quieting the beasts with a sure hand and a muttered word. They ran their fingers over the hooves, trying to feel each one in the darkness. With the third horse, they found what they were seeking, and Gilles took the risk of lighting the small wick they’d brought with them for just this purpose. The little flame flickered in the depths of the stall, as Guy once more pulled the gelding’s leg up and rested its hoof on his knee. There it was. A crack ran from the front of the shoe down one side. A crack that exactly matched the imprint left in the mud of the lane behind Maltby Abbey. “He’ll lose that shoe before long,” whispered Gilles. “We’ll bring that bastard down before he has the chance,” answered Guy, sighing a little now that they had proof of Lymington’s complicity in hand. He dropped the horse’s leg and rubbed his hand down its nose absently, as he thought hard. “Think you our Lord is still within?” Gilles nodded at the other horses. “My guess is yes. He’d not leave without word to us, and I’ll warrant that perhaps one or two of those pack horses are from our train.” “Good.” Guy nodded at the door, and the two men slipped back into the shadows of the night and retraced their steps towards Maltby Abbey. As they cleared the Lymington dwellings, and emerged back onto the quiet country lanes, they each drew a breath of the cool air. “Well, the proof is ours now, Gilles,” said Guy thoughtfully. “Indeed. We have a tribute that is outrageous, a fire the origin of which can be traced directly to Lymington’s stables, along with a number of other ‘problems’ he’s already admitted… ”

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“And the use of Greek fire to start that blaze. Who but a Knight would know of such things? Any oil would have served to start the logs burning, and had that been the case, we’d have had to work damned hard to prove our suspicions. But the use of Greek fire truly gives him away.” Gilles nodded his agreement. “Had it not been for Father Michael, I cannot honestly say that the thought of checking the logs would have occurred to me.” “Me neither. And here I thought we were so damned knowledgeable, too,” muttered Guy. Gilles smothered a laugh. “Don’t forget, my friend, Father Michael’s got a few years on us. Perhaps when we’re his age, with our children and grandchildren around us, we’ll be able to match his wisdom.” The thought of children quickened both men’s hearts and turned their thoughts inevitably to the women now sleeping at Maltby Abbey. By mutual accord, they strode faster, anxious now to return to the place where they had both found something neither had sought. Their hearts.

***** The next day was a busy one, and Guy and Gilles spent the morning chopping, shaping and sawing lumber into useable board lengths to replace those damaged by the fire. There was a change in the people around them, Gilles noticed. Both men found their opinions were sought, a forelock was touched here and there, and a shy maid had gently bobbed a quick curtsey as she brought them water. The people of Maltby Abbey had finally recognized and accepted the men for what they were, and were doing their quiet best to let them know. As they took a break, the blacksmith came up to them and clapped them both on the back, making their teeth rattle. Saints, thought Gilles, why did all blacksmiths have to be so huge? “Faith, lads, you’ve saved this place, you know that?” he said, whistling through his teeth as he gazed at the house. “And you also, Samuel,” said Guy quietly. “Without your quick thinking on that ladder, it would have been much, much worse.” The blacksmith shrugged off the compliment. “‘Twas no more than my duty to Maltby,” he said absently. He turned to the two men. “Seems ye’re of a mind to stand as protectors for our ladies, then… ”

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Gilles met his eyes squarely. “With our lives, Master Blacksmith.” The simple country man returned the look, glancing over at Guy and back to Gilles. “That’ll be good then,” he said, turning on his heel and walking off. Guy snickered. “I would hazard a guess we’ve been approved, Gilles,” he said, holding in his mirth. Gilles retrieved his drooping jaw. “I doubt that we’ve ever received such a high compliment, Guy, pithy though it was.” He too laughed with Guy, and then their expressions changed as they saw two women walking towards them bearing tankards of ale and a bundle of food. They’d been reluctant to disturb the household as it slept on that morning. Sir Dunstan needed his rest, and the women needed the chance to relax and begin putting their house in order. So it was the first time that day for their meeting, and each was glad of it. Linnet smiled at Gilles and offered him a tankard, while Mechele did the same to Guy. “Good morrow, Gilles,” said Linnet softly, watching as his throat moved with each thirsty swallow. “And good day to you, love,” he said, drawing her a little apart. “Thanks for the ale, it’s been a thirsty morning. But I find I’m hungry too… ” he gazed at her lips and Linnet felt a blush start somewhere around her knees. “Me too,” she whispered, and allowed him to draw her into his arms. Their lips met in a quick kiss, and it was over far too soon for either’s liking. “You two have been busy, I see,” said Mechele, withdrawing herself from Guy’s embrace where she too, had been soundly kissed. Linnet snorted. “Busy? By the Saints you have enough lumber here to build a whole new house, for Heaven’s sake.” “There’s a thought,” murmured Gilles. Linnet waved his comment aside, unable to comprehend his mutterings. But Guy obviously did, as it was answered with a low chuckle. She recalled her attention to their immediate problem. “So, gentlemen? Do we have a plan in place to take Lymington out and hang him from the highest tree? You do believe it was all his doing, yes?” “Yes,” answered Guy. “In fact… ” he glanced around and tugged Mechele over to a shady spot beneath a large tree. Linnet and Gilles followed, and the women spread their cloths and laid bread and cheese out in an impromptu picnic. “In fact,” continued Gilles around a mouthful of food, “We paid a little visit to Lymington’s last night.” Mechele frowned. “Wasn’t that a bit risky?”

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Guy leaned over and licked her ear with his tongue. She jumped and blushed, but returned his look with a hot one of her own. “Not for us, my love,” he purred. Gilles sighed. “Well, anyway… ” he shot an annoyed glance at Guy for distracting him. “Anyway?” encouraged Linnet, trying to ignore the hand that was making lazy circles on her back. “Yes. Um—oh yes, anyway… ” sighed Gilles. “We found a horse whose damaged shoe matched that print Father Michael found. With that piece of evidence in our hands, coupled with a few other things, we can certainly place the blame for your troubles squarely at Lymington’s door.” Mechele and Linnet nodded at this news, unsurprised. “Do you think Lord Benstede would intervene on our behalf?” asked Mechele. “Sweetheart, Lord Benstede would personally disembowel Lymington, if he was given half the chance. I swear it,” laughed Guy. “He’s a fair man who hates injustice.” “Hmm. I’d like the chance to help him too,” muttered Linnet. “Bloodthirsty wench, aren’t you?” whispered Gilles running his hand to her bottom and squeezing the roundness he found there. Linnet jumped and blushed. “So here’s our plan.” Gilles looked smug. “We have a plan?” asked Mechele. Guy’s eyebrow shot up. “You doubt us, sweetheart?” Mechele subsided into a puddle of apologies. Linnet giggled. “So tell us the plan.” Guy straightened. “We are placing our reliance on our Lord, and the fact that Lymington is who he is. A bastard. Those two facts should just about ensure his downfall.” Linnet and Mechele frowned at each other. “That’s your plan?” asked Linnet, glancing from one to the other. “Sounds a bit flimsy to me.” Identical grins spread over the two handsome faces. “Trust us, love,” said Gilles leaning close. “Take your finest gowns and air them out, for on the morrow we are all going to Lymington’s home. We are going to pay him a visit he’ll never forget.” “Guy—our gowns. They stink of smoke still. It’ll take more than an afternoon’s airing to rid them of the smell.” Mechele worried her bottom lip with her teeth, only to find Guy’s finger there, quieting her. “Trust us, Mechele. Do as we ask. ‘Tis all part of the plan.”

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Linnet sighed. “You have our trust. You should both know that by now.” Mechele nodded. “But why wait? Why not go now?” “Mistress Impatience,” chuckled Guy. “We wait because Lymington will know we’re trying to recover from the fire. He’ll be setting his plans in motion to take over this estate. We’ll give him time to do so.” “And in the meantime… ” Gilles ran his hand back up Linnet’s spine to her neck sending her mind whirling into places it shouldn’t be in the middle of the day. She shivered. “In the meantime,” continued Guy looking at Mechele, “We shall ready that small empty pair of cottages by the south field.” “You will?” Mechele’s voice was low and husky as she spoke the words that trembled on the tip of Linnet’s tongue. “We will,” smiled Guy. “Indeed we will,” added Gilles with his own particularly brilliant grin. “Tonight, my love, you’ll not need to share a bed in the downstairs chamber of Maltby Abbey.” “You mean… ” Linnet stared at him, lost in his blue eyes and the love she saw there. “Yes.” Guy’s words were for Mechele, but all heard them. “Tonight is for us alone.”

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Chapter 13 Mechele’s thoughts tumbled every-which-way as she shook out linens and flung them over one of the many cords that had been strung across the courtyard. The whole place looked like the brightly colored entrance to a tournament with flags of clothing waving and snapping in the busy breeze. Linnet sighed next to her as she pulled her favorite kirtle from the pile at her feet. “I doubt the smell will ever completely fade,” she groaned, sniffing at the deep blue fabric. “Well, they said not to worry about it,” answered Mechele equitably, trying to stifle her own sigh as she smoothed her hands over the rich golden folds of her own special gown and tossed it over the line. Both women stepped back, and watched as the wind took the folds of soft stuff and billowed it out like a ship in full sail. “Well, we’ve done our best,” she said. “Are you going to bother trying to air out any more?” Linnet turned with a little grin. “No. I shall retire for the night, slip into my night rail, and slip out to the cottage. And I don’t care if it still smells smoky. Let’s be honest, I doubt I’ll be wearing it for very long.” Mechele grinned back. “Good point.” “Are you happy, Mechele?” Linnet’s question was tentative, almost as if she was afraid to break the spell of joy that surrounded them like a halo of sunshine. “Yes. In spite of our troubles, yes. A thousand times yes. I’m so in love with Guy, my heart bursts with it.” Linnet reached over impulsively and gave her cousin a hug. “I’m so glad. For I am desperately in love with Gilles, and my heart is just so full that I’d have hated to think you didn’t feel the same for Guy.” “Oh, I feel it. How could I not? When he touches me, loves me, takes me to wild and wanton places, it’s…well, it’s beyond anything… ” Linnet nodded. “And when I feel Gilles’ warmth, his passion, his need for me, I just melt into a puddle. I swear he could take me upside down from that tree over there, and I’d love every minute of it.” Both of them considered that statement for a moment. Mechele snickered. “There probably is a way to do that, too, you know.”

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“And if there is, I’ll wager my best slippers those two would know about it.” Linnet’s giggle was echoed by Mechele, and both finished their chores, hearts flying, minds full of their men, and bodies aching with a need to be touched and loved. By their two special knights. Who were, at that exact moment, muttering and cursing as they stood before two rather dilapidated and empty cottages. Guy disappeared inside one, only to reappear a moment later. “Well, there’s a raised pallet of sorts in this one, that would suffice I think, with plenty of pine boughs and hay. And a couple of the thickest blankets we can find…” “And t’other one possesses a stout set of beams, which might be useful for what I have in mind,” grinned Gilles. Guy nodded. “It’s decided then. The roofs are pretty sound, thank heavens, if you don’t mind a few squirrels.” “Don’t bother me. Doubt we’ll hear ‘em, anyway.” Gilles spoke absently, as if his mind was already on the night to come. Guy grinned, the warmth of that smile lighting his harsh features. “You’ll probably hear us, though. If I do my job right, anyway.” Gilles laughed. “I plan on keeping Linnet so busy that a full battle could take place outside, and neither of us would know about it.” He turned to Guy, a question in his eyes. “You have the flowers?” “I do indeed,” answered Guy, reaching into the little bag that hung from his belt. “Dug ‘em out just before we came over here.” He pulled his hand from the pouch and showed Gilles a sparkling shower of silver glitter, interspersed here and there with the flash of brightly colored gems. “Excellent, my friend. Excellent.” His fingers poked at the glittering mass. “You want the red one or the green one?” “Oh, the green, I think. It’s almost the color of Mechele’s eyes when she…er…well.” He paused self-consciously. “I’ll take the green one.” “Good. That leaves me with the red one. It glows like fire. Like the fire in Linnet… ” He too, paused. There were some matters even friends as close as the two of them could not share. Both men cleared their throats. “Well, that’s it, then. We must get blankets, perhaps beg a little food, gather hay and so on. Let’s to it, my friend. Night will come soon. I hope… ” said Guy, quirking his lips. “Not soon enough for me,” muttered Gilles. They spent the next hour or so desperately gathering what they could to make the cottages habitable for the coming night.

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However, when they returned, Gilles with his arms full of fragrant pine boughs, and Guy with a bale of hay tossed over his shoulders, they found a surprise waiting for them. The cottages had changed. Gone were the old rushes that had littered the floors. Now they were swept clean and spread with a mix of herbs and fresh hay. The openings had been covered with some light and flimsy stuff that swayed in the breeze, and the doors swung smoothly on their newly-oiled hinges. Peeking inside, they were astounded to find a small table set up within each, where a pair of tankards rested. Fresh bread lay on covered platters, and both small dwellings showed signs of having been carefully and lovingly tended. “Good God,” said Guy, eyes wide. “The girls, do you think?” asked Gilles, also astounded at the change which had been wrought so quickly. “Nay, lads,” came a gruff voice. The blacksmith stepped from behind one of the cottages and faced the two stunned men. “The folks hereabouts figured it was as good a way to say thank you as any. The women took it into their heads to tidy up a bit, and, well… ” he looked down awkwardly at his feet. “We all sort of got into the spirit of the thing. Yon lasses know naught of any of it.” Gilles shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.” “Then say nothing, just enjoy,” said a firm voice, as the blacksmith’s wife entered the little clearing, bearing a large tray that held two fragrant pies. “Mistress, I cannot…I do not… ” stuttered Guy, completely at a loss for one of the first times in his life. “Now, lookee, lads,” she said, setting her burden down and putting her hands on her ample hips. “You two have done naught but work hard, and lighten the load of those two wee things who’ve turned our lives around. You proved yourselves friends with your deeds yesterday, and none of us missed those looks… ” Both men found themselves blushing. “We would do anything for our Mistresses, lads. Anything. And it seems they want you two.” The blacksmith glanced over the handsome men before him, gauging the broad shoulders and strong bodies, and dropping his glance to the fronts of their breeches. “Can’t figure out why, o’course,” he added, hiding his grin. “That’ll be enough of that,” snapped his wife. “Come on, ye girt great lout. Finish your business and let’s be off. We have things to attend to this night, and these folks deserve their privacy.” The blacksmith’s grin broadened and he leaned confidentially towards the two men as his wife slipped into the cottages and left a pie in each.

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“There’s many a man will thank you both in the morn, lads. All this passion stuff has brought it to the minds of our women too.” He winked. His wife came to his side, with a stern expression on her face. “You’ll not hurt those two, mind,” she said, looking pointedly at Gilles and Guy. The blacksmith took her hand firmly in his great paw, ignoring her muttered protests. “No need to worry about that, ducks,” he reassured her. “These two know very well what they’re doing.” He held on tightly to her grasp, even though a blush was starting to color her neck and spread to her cheeks. “And lest you’ve forgotten,” he said leaning his great height over his wife, “I’ve a mind that maybe tonight we should do a bit of that ourselves.” She gasped and the blush turned into a deep flush. “Well, I never… ” she sputtered. “Oh you will, lovey.” With a huge grin, the blacksmith tugged his wife away, slipping his arm around her and downwards, giving her ample buttocks a hefty squeeze. Her squawk of protest brought a grin to both Guy and Gilles, as they watched the couple leave. “Tell everyone how grateful we are,” called Gilles after them. The blacksmith never turned from his wife, just waved his hand in the air in acknowledgement.

***** Twilight was a magic time for the Maltby estate. Neither light nor dark, the tired sun had long since disappeared, but at this time of year, the darkness was not quite ready to accept control of the sky. It was still light enough to see one’s way, but dark enough that the two ghostly figures moving quietly through the trees would seem nothing but shades of light and dark to unwary eyes. Linnet and Mechele had wondered at the smothered giggles and glances they’d received earlier that afternoon, and also at the large tubs of steaming water they’d found in their temporary chamber when they’d sought refuge at the end of the day. Even Sir Dunstan, it seemed, had played least-in-sight, announcing he’d have another game of chess with Bodkin before retiring. His twinkling grin alerted them. “Something’s going on, Linnet,” said Mechele as she sank into the steaming water. “You picked that up too, did you?” answered Linnet. “Couldn’t miss it,” answered Mechele, wryly. “I’ll guarantee that just about everyone on the estate knows where we’re spending this night.”

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Linnet looked thoughtfully at a bar of her best soap, which had mysteriously found its way to the small table beside her bath. “And mayhap they’re telling us they’re glad of it,” she said. “Well, ‘tis nice to have their approval, but I must confess, that approval or not, I’d still go.” “Me too,” chuckled Linnet. “It’s been too long.” Both girls pondered that statement as they washed themselves clean. How could a mere day seem like a lifetime? “What are we going to do, Mechele?” Linnet’s plaintive question broke the silence. “Do?” Mechele turned her head. “You need me to give you instructions?” Linnet colored. “No, silly. Not about tonight. I mean about our lives, our futures. These are two knights, remember. They ride in service to Lord Benstede.” Mechele’s brow furrowed. “You know what, Linnet? I cannot imagine Guy just taking me, giving me his love, and then riding off with a wave and a flash of his armor. ‘Tis not in his character, I’m thinking.” “No, nor Gilles, either.” Linnet agreed with a sigh. “But I cannot help but wonder what lies ahead for us. Much as I love Gilles, I should hate to be parted from you.” She held out her hand, and Mechele grasped it firmly. “We’ll have to trust them, and ourselves, Linnet. We’ve shared too much together to lose our friendship. Let’s not worry about tomorrow until tomorrow comes. Remember, we have tonight.” And so two clean and excited women made their way through the twilight to the two equally clean and excited men who awaited them. The Maltby estate lay quiet, as if to spare them any further embarrassment. Truly, this night and these knights were for them alone.

***** Guy and Gilles were waiting. Small lamps glowed in both cottages, sending a soft glow into the ever deepening night, darkness having finally decided it was time to do its job. The women approached, nervously almost, yet with smiles of warmth and affection lighting their faces. “Good evening, Guy, Gilles,” nodded Mechele, forgetting for a moment that her hair was unbound and she was wearing her night rail. “Gentlemen,” greeted Linnet. “We have come.” “Not yet,” growled Gilles, striding to Linnet. 84

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Guy suppressed a snicker, and moved to Mechele’s side. “I’m glad you’re here, love,” he whispered. She raised her face and allowed him to drop a quick kiss on her lips, then stood back and peeked around his large body. “You have done wonders, Guy. I hardly recognize these cottages,” she murmured. Gilles raised his head from Linnet’s as he greeted her in the best way he knew how. “It is all thanks to your people, Mechele. We can’t take credit for this little miracle.” “Really?” Linnet stared at the tidy little cottages and the soft lights glowing from inside. “How lovely. That does explain a few things… ” She cocked an eyebrow at a grinning Mechele. “It does indeed,” she answered. Both men stepped back a bit and simultaneously reached into their pockets. “We have small gifts for our ladies,” said Gilles in his most polished courtly manner. They withdrew their hands and produced twin mounds of glittering stuff, which drew the girls close. “What is it?” breathed Mechele, just touching Guy’s hand with one finger. “How pretty,” added Linnet. “They are called hand-flowers, love. Here, let me show you… ” and Guy held up his hand to reveal two short sections of delicate chain mail. He pulled Mechele’s hand towards him and wrapped a plain band of mail around one wrist. Then he grasped the other and slipped a ring of mail over her middle finger. The links on this one spread out into a second bracelet which he fastened around her wrist. In the center, a small green flower had been cunningly mounted, and Mechele’s eyes sparkled as she raised her hands aloft and stared. “How very lovely,” she breathed. “Gorgeous, just gorgeous,” murmured Linnet, watching the red stones on her hand catch the remaining light. “They come from the east, I believe. Modeled after some slave restraint or other. We’ve had them for some time now,” said Guy, moving close to Mechele. “Never found the right woman to share them, though,” said Gilles, eyes fixed on Linnet. The men closed the distance and took their women in their arms. Gilles pulled Linnet’s hands around either side of his waist into a warm hug. There was a little snick and Linnet found herself locked to his chest, her wrists tethered by the small catch which dangled from one of the flowers. She glanced uncertainly at Mechele. Mechele’s hands were behind her, and Guy was in front of her, holding her tight and snapping a similar lock. 85

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He moved back, eyes alight. “You are now our slaves,” he grinned. “Captured by two brave knights, solely for our pleasure.” Mechele’s arms strained as she realized her predicament. Gilles rubbed his body against Linnet’s, knowing she was trapped to him and loving every minute of it. “We’ll bid you goodnight, my friends,” he said, carefully turning Linnet and walking her gently backwards into their cottage. “‘Til the morrow, then,” answered Guy, pulling Mechele’s shoulders as they hurried to their own sanctuary. Two solid doors swung smoothly shut, and two bolts were thrown home with a satisfying clack. And within minutes, Mistress Linnet Aylmer found herself naked, aroused and being plundered up against the huge beam that supported the roof of Sir Gilles deSoleil’s private quarters. His cock could wait no more, it seemed, for its heat was even now buried to the hilt inside her as he took her weight in his hands, thrust himself into her standing up, and brought her to the most dizzying release she could ever remember. It took even less time for Mistress Mechele Trenowyth to find herself stretched out naked across a raised pallet, smelling of pine and herbs, her hands secured to the wall and her buttocks presented to Sir Guy Northbridge. Who was administering a wonderfully arousing spanking to that naked bottom, bringing warmth and tears of pleasure to her cunny, and a red glow to her white flesh. While she could have enjoyed this treatment to its fullest, Guy, apparently, could not. After mere minutes of his gentle punishment, he too found himself plunging into that enticing cunny, which glistened and begged him to make himself at home. His strokes were long and deep, and brushed against Mechele’s womb, making her groan and writhe and cry out as he plundered her very soul. Their release came together and once more harsh cries of release filled the night air and disturbed the squirrels nesting in the thatch that covered the two small roofs. Unbeknownst to each other, two knights shared the same thought at almost the same moment as the squirrels rustled and fussed. “The hell with ‘em. Let them find their own pleasure.”

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Chapter 14 It would have been natural to suppose that, after a night of loving the likes of which neither Linnet nor Mechele could have dreamed of in their wildest fantasies, that the lovers would sleep late. But as was their wont, both Guy and Gilles rose with the sun. Of course, they did seize the opportunity for a quick reinforcement of their sensual techniques, but before the cock had finished his morning ritual of announcing a new day, both men had left their beds, slipped their women back into the redundant night rails which had indeed spent the night in useless piles on the floor, and ushered them out into the sunrise. Both Mechele and Linnet staggered from their cottages, blinking, stunned, sated, and wondering exactly where the hell they were. Guy and Gilles shared identical smiles that blended passion, love, affection and humor. And also a great deal of male pride. It was their cocks that had rendered these two strong women weak at the knees, their rough cheeks that had brought a flush to their bodies, and their tongues that had sent them screaming over the edge of bliss uncounted times. Yes, it had been a night well spent. But the morning had arrived, and today it was time to seal the fate of one cunning bastard. Guy and Gilles were ready. Their need to finish this business and get on with their lives was growing within them. The knights were gearing up for battle. They sent their women back to the house with loving kisses and longing touches, but both knowing it was time for action, now, and that future pleasures would seem all the sweeter once this business had been settled. Then they retired to refresh and dress, each busy with his thoughts, plans and ideas for what lay ahead. Mechele and Linnet, however, had a very difficult time trying to think at all. “My God,” muttered Linnet, as she made her shaky way through the silent rooms of Maltby. “Dear Lord,” agreed Mechele, grabbing on to a table for a moment as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. They shared a glance and giggled. “Look at the two of us,” groaned Mechele. “Anyone would think we’d been riding for days… ” “I feel like I have,” quipped Linnet, laughingly.

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“Yes, now you come to mention it, my bum is decidedly sore.” Mechele rubbed a hand over her buttocks, and a secretive grin crossed her face. “We must not tarry, though. Time is wasting and I want this whole Lymington thing finished.” Nodding her agreement, Linnet followed her cousin and braced her shoulders against what the day was to bring. Clouds studded the bright sky, and dappled shadows over the courtyard as two large horses clattered across it to stop before the front doors of Maltby Abbey. The servants within eyeshot stopped dead, taking in the sight of the two men riding atop the great beasts. The huge shires had been brushed until they shone, even the tufts of hair that nearly covered their hooves was soft and white. But the men astride them were even more eye catching. At least to the maids, anyway. Guy’s black hair tumbled onto his shoulders, and his gray eyes were alight with some fierce emotion, as he watched for his lady to join him. Gilles’ hair caught the sun and turned to a glittering gold, matched only by the glitter of his bright blue eyes as they, too, looked for the woman who would ride before him. Both had retrieved their remaining clothes from their packs, and wore clean but simple shirts, laced to the neck, but the homespun breeches had given way to soft leathers, and they both sat tall as they awaited their women. No one could now mistake them for anything other than what they were. The Knights Elemental. The doors swung open, and the women emerged, a little self consciously, yet clearly eager to join their men. “Saints,” laughed Mechele, stunned at the sight of Guy atop a cart horse. “We are to ride him?” “For the moment, yes,” murmured Guy, a sensually wicked grin crossing his stern face. Mechele blushed. She realized she’d been doing that a lot lately. “Come on, Linnet. The day is wasting.” Gilles held out his hand to Linnet who was staring at the horse and the man and back to the horse. “Umm… ” Gilles huffed out a laugh. “Use that block and give me your hand,” he ordered, pointing at the mounting block nearby. After several mis-tries, and giggles, the women found themselves seated before their lovers, held fast by strong arms, and at a height that felt like miles from the ground.

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Mechele smiled. “I’ll wager these cart horses are not what you’re used to,” she said as Guy clicked his heels and turned the lumbering beast towards Lymington. “Their size is not far off that of our destriers, Mechele. Warhorses need to carry a man in full armor. It’s no light weight, I can assure you. Although these lads… ” he clicked his heels again and flicked the reins, “Well, they will perhaps need more encouragement than my usual mount.” Linnet rested back against Gilles, glad that they’d decided to use sheepskins for saddles this day. A pommel thrusting up where she was sitting right now would have been untenable. In spite of herself, lurid thoughts crept into her mind and she flushed, forcing them away. “Well, it should not take long to reach Lymington,” she said, trying to control her errant thoughts. “Will we meet Lord Benstede, do you think?” “You will most certainly meet Lord Benstede,” answered Guy, energetically urging his placid mount alongside the other couple. For a while they rode two abreast, silently enjoying the day, and each with their own thoughts of what awaited them at Lymington. In spite of the lethargic, stolid progress of their mounts, it took no more than thirty minutes before the first signs of habitation met their eyes, and a few minutes more brought them to Lymington’s front door. “The place has changed,” murmured Mechele, looking around her. “And not for the better,” added Linnet. Two very surprised stable boys found themselves holding the reins of two giant plow horses as the men dismounted and caught their companions as they slid into their arms. As one, they turned to the steps of Lymington’s home and walked slowly up the broad stone staircase. The doors were open, and they entered, finding a servant and asking for Lord Benstede and the Baron himself. They were directed to a sunny room to await the arrival of the two gentlemen. Mechele grasped Guy’s hand, and he squeezed it. “Not to worry, love. We have things well in hand.” He smiled down gently at her, giving her hand an additional squeeze to reinforce his small joke. The door opened and Lymington stalked into the room, followed moments later by Lord Benstede himself. “What’s the meaning of this?” huffed Lymington, glaring at the two women as if horrified that they were in his presence. “You dared bring those two…two…sluts into this house?” Guy’s mouth tightened. By the Saints, he was ready to skewer this brute.

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Gilles stepped forward. “They come as our guests, my Lord. And of course, seeing as we ride for Lord Benstede, that makes them his guests as well.” Lymington subsided with a grunt, glowering at Mechele and Linnet. Guy smiled coldly. Already, Lymington was unsettled. Good. Lord Benstede moved to the group and lightly touched Gilles’ shoulder. “I am glad to see you both well, lads. Will you make these ladies known to me?” Gilles performed the introductions quietly, introducing first Mechele as Sir Dunstan’s niece, and then Linnet, her cousin. “Faugh, my Lord,” interrupted Lymington. “I apologize for this. These wenches are the ones who have caused so much trouble. They certainly should not be here, and especially not in this room. They should be back at their cooking fires, where I judge…” he held his nose in disgust, “They’ve been spending most of their time. They stink of it.” He turned away and opened a window. Guy’s bile threatened to rise and choke him, but a little tremor in Mechele’s hand which was still buried in his overrode his fury and brought out his need to protect her. “If you would, my Lord,” he said calmly, beckoning Lord Benstede nearer. Curious, Benstede drew closer. “They do indeed smell of smoke,” finished Guy, raising an eyebrow at his liege. Benstede drew in a breath, paused, then leaned even closer to the two girls and sniffed again. His eyes narrowed. “‘Tis not the stink of cooking fires, I smell. Ladies, you have suffered through a fire of another nature, I would guess.” “Unfortunately, yes, my Lord,” nodded Linnet politely. “A fire? At poor Maltby Abbey?” Lymington turned from the window. “What a pity. I shall, of course, send my men over immediately. Perhaps something can be saved?” Gilles turned to him, blue eyes icy. “That will be unnecessary, my Lord. There was little damage. The fire was extinguished quickly and thoroughly.” “Thanks to your two knights, Lord Benstede,” added Mechele shyly. “I am glad they were of service, my dear,” he answered. The gazes of the three men met, and understanding flashed between them. Lymington sagged. “And fortunately our presence enabled us to make a thorough investigation of the matter.” Guy’s words were colder than icicles in December. “We found much evidence to point to the culprits.” Lymington blustered and snorted. “Evidence? Some local lads up to mischief, I’ve no doubt. Happens all the time in these godforsaken farmlands.” “Lads who rode horses, Lymington,” snapped Gilles. “One of which suffers the misfortune of having a cracked shoe.” 90

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Benstede looked at him, expression enigmatic. “Might you know of such a horse, Sir Gilles?” “I do indeed, my Lord. You’ll find one just like it in the stables here at Lymington.” “Utter rubbish.” Lymington spat the words out. “Why any one of a hundred horses might have a cracked shoe. ‘Tis the most common thing in the world.” “It is indeed,” agreed Guy. “But the use of Greek fire is not.” Benstede’s eyebrows snapped together. “Greek fire? Are you sure?” Guy nodded. “Without any doubt. The local cleric, Father Michael, will attest to it. In fact, it was his sharp eyes and nose that first alerted us.” Benstede turned his gaze on Lymington, frowning now. “A country cleric?” Lymington snorted. “What can he possibly know of such things? He’s good for naught but boring sermons. Really, my Lord, I must insist… ” “You must insist nothing, Lymington. I suggest instead you hold your tongue until we are finished here.” Lord Benstede’s rebuke was clear. Lymington’s smile was a sickly thing against the pallor of his cheeks and the chin that wobbled nervously beneath. Benstede turned his back on Lymington. “Can this Father Michael be trusted?” Gilles met his gaze. “Father Michael has not always been a priest, my Lord. Both Guy and I fancy he has a long history of warfare to his credit. The man still walks like one accustomed to armor.” “For what it’s worth, Sir,” interjected Linnet. “I believe his last name is Warwick?” Benstede’s eyes widened. “By the Saints. Michael Warwick. I always wondered what happened to him.” Gilles tilted his head curiously. “You know the name, my Lord?” “Indeed I do, lad. Michael Warwick was a legend to many, myself included. His arm never failed, he had the sharpest mind ever to plan a battle, and his exploits were told for years around our campfires. I’d not be averse to sitting down with him and sharing some memories.” He looked questioningly at the four assembled before him. “I believe he’d enjoy that too, Sir,” said Mechele, shyly meeting his eyes. Benstede nodded, and turned back to Lymington. “If Michael Warwick, cleric or not, says it was Greek fire, as do my own knights, then I have no reason to assume otherwise, Lymington.” “But, my Lord… ” blustered the man. “And another thing, Lord Benstede. The matter of the tribute.” Guy interrupted the hurried excuses and calmly overrode the protests. “Ah yes, the tribute,” said Benstede, calmly waiting. “Would you please tell his Lordship the sum you were assessed by Lord Lymington this past year?” Guy turned to Mechele and Linnet. 91

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The girls glanced at each other and named the sum. Benstede’s eyebrows snapped together in a frown of shock. “You jest, ladies.” “Indeed not, Sir,” said Linnet raising her chin. “That is the exact sum demanded of us by…by him… ” she jerked her head in Lymington’s direction. “Nonsense, girl. Nonsense,” spat Lymington. He stared at Lord Benstede. “My Lord, I doubt this wench can read and write, let alone handle the mathematics involved in assessing a tribute. Now were Sir Dunstan present, he’d give you the correct accounting.” Mechele moved slightly. “You are incorrect in that assumption, Sir. Both my cousin and I read and write, and keep the accounts at Maltby Abbey. Uncle Dunstan has graciously allowed us to do so for the past several years now. The amount is quite right.” Her gracious response drew a grunt from Lymington. “A mistake. That’s what it is, a simple error in figuring.” “A mistake indeed,” said Lord Benstede thoughtfully. At that moment two men at arms entered the room, and stopped short as they noticed the people within. “Beg pardon, my Lord,” they stuttered, looking helplessly at Lymington. He motioned with his hands to shoo them away and they began to back out the door. “Hold, there.” Lord Benstede’s voice halted them in their tracks. “What is your business with Lymington?” The two men glanced from one man to the other, and recognized exactly where the power in the room lay. “With respect, my Lord,” said the shorter one, bowing to Benstede, “We have come to tell Lord Lymington that his men are ready to ride to Maltby.” Silence fell as his words echoed through the room. Benstede’s cheek twitched, and only his knights knew this was a signal that their liege Lord was battling a deep fury. Linnet and Mechele watched the scene with a nervous kind of interest. Linnet was fascinated by Lord Benstede—his power was obvious, yet there had been a kindly look in his eyes and a rare affection as he’d met the glances of his two knights. It seemed that the three shared a sort of unspoken communication, which, knowing Gilles as well as she now did, went a long way to allaying her fears about the outcome of this visit. She watched as Lymington deflated beneath the stare that was now growing ever colder. “I…um…er… ” stuttered the man as five pairs of eyes watched him with an assortment of emotions that ran the gamut from disgust to raw fury.

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“Your men are ready? How fortuitous. Especially since we’ve only just learned of this misfortune.” “My Lord, I can explain… ” began Lymington. “I doubt it.” The abrupt words stopped Lymington’s tongue in his mouth, so coldly were they spoken. “Some of my men are in the paddock. Fetch them to me.” Benstede ordered the two nervous men who were sidling towards the door as attention was lifted from their presence. “At once, my Lord,” they said, rushing from the room, nearly stumbling in their haste to be gone. “Lymington, I would see your accounts.” Benstede’s voice was a bark of command now, and Linnet could clearly see the warrior beneath the facade of a nobleman. “Of course, my Lord. I was just about to suggest the very thing.” He moved to his desk and withdrew a hefty tome. “Both sets.” Lymington betrayed his fear with a twitch of his mouth. “My Lord, I don’t…I didn’t…I haven’t an idea what you mean… ” Benstede never moved, and Linnet watched with interest as Gilles and Guy slipped quietly to either side of their Lord. The three of them together were formidable. She was sure none could withstand the amazing power radiating from them. And sure enough, Lymington couldn’t. With a sigh, he reached back into his desk and retrieved another, equally hefty, tome that he laid beside the first in a gesture of defeat. Sounds behind them attracted Linnet’s attention and several strong young men appeared at the door, looking inquiringly at Lord Benstede. “You have need of us, my Lord?” “Indeed I have, lads. Please escort Lord Lymington to his chamber and secure him there.” “But my Lord,” whined Lymington. “Let me explain. I’m a peer of the realm, you can’t… ” “Yes, I suppose you are, aren’t you?” Benstede hissed the words and Linnet’s hair stood up on the back of her neck. Truly, Lord Benstede was in a terrible fury. For a few moments she almost felt sorry for Lymington, until she saw his eyes. There was no sorrow or penitence for what he’d done lurking within their depths, only an overwhelming fear for his own skin, and a greedy desire to save it. But it was too late for that. And Lymington knew it. 93

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Chapter 15 Mechele glanced over at Linnet, and the two women exchanged nervous smiles. It seemed as if they’d been vindicated, but they weren’t quite sure what was to come. Benstede glanced at one of his men. “Pass me Lymington’s sword, if you will,” he said, nodding at the broadsword that took pride of place on one wall. He turned it over in his hands, studying the hilt thoughtfully. Then he grasped the blade near the tip and with one forceful move snapped it clean in two across his knee. Mechele gasped. “By my right as Liege Lord of this Shire, I remove all titles and properties associated and assigned to the name of Lymington. Such decree to commence henceforth.” Lymington’s jaw dropped and he whitened. Good God, thought Mechele to herself. The man’s going to faint. But he held himself together, and looked away from Benstede’s accusing eyes, meeting Mechele’s and Linnet’s. The two women stood together, slightly behind their champions. “‘Tis all your faults, you bitches,” he hissed, his previously pale face flushing with intemperate anger. “You spoiled it all. And then you probably went and spread your legs for these two cocks and fucked them into taking your side against me… ” His filthy accusations were the final straw for Gilles and Guy. As Mechele and Linnet involuntarily backed away from the man’s fury, Gilles’ arm moved like lightning. A solid punch landed in Lymington’s solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs, and doubling him over. As his chin fell, it met Guy’s fist, traveling upwards with all the force of his broad shoulders behind it. His head snapped up, his teeth clashed together with an audible clack, and he subsided onto the floor where he lay, moaning and writhing in pain. “Well, I think that should take care of things,” said Lord Benstede, calmly, turning his back on the moaning man. “Now, we have other matters to attend to.” “What will happen to him, my Lord?” asked Linnet.

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“I too would be interested to know. There’s no likelihood he might return some day…?” Mechele’s voice trailed off. Guy and Gilles smiled, their anger diffused now, by the quick and satisfying punishment they’d meted out. “Not a chance, my dear,” grinned Benstede. “My next stop will be Chester Hall, where I am meeting the Earl of Danesfield. He’ll be holding several judicial courts there. Lymington will be brought up on charges before him.” Linnet nodded. “Of course. Those books. He falsified the tributes, didn’t he?” Benstede raised an eyebrow. “That is of minor matter next to the charges I shall level against him. Those of attempted murder.” Mechele’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Murder?” “You value yourselves too lightly, ladies. Lymington’s plan to burn Maltby Abbey would have surely murdered you.” Mechele and Linnet looked at each other, suddenly realizing the truth of these words. It was comforting to feel the touch of their lovers’ arms as this revelation seared its way into their benumbed brains. Benstede also noted the protective move of his knights and hid a grin behind his hand. He stroked his chin. “It would appear that my deeds have now left us with rather a problem, though,” he said thoughtfully, ignoring the groaning body of Lymington that his men were now dragging awkwardly from the room. “Let’s make ourselves comfortable and see if we can find a solution.” Guy led Mechele to a small bench and snuggled her next to him, refusing to allow her to put any distance at all between them. Gilles seated Linnet in a chair and perched himself on the arm, letting his hand rest on her shoulder in a comforting and warming fashion. Benstede’s eyes twinkled, and he turned his chuckle into a cough. “We are now faced with the following situation. Since Lymington has resigned his post as liege Lord of this shire, there is no one to tend its estates or gather its tribute. Its fair tribute,” he added. Both girls nodded, wondering where this conversation would take them. “And Maltby Abbey, fair and fine estate though it is, has a master who is elderly, and has been forced to rely on the strength and courage of two rather extraordinary ladies.” Guy and Gilles nodded their agreement, while the women could do nothing but lower their heads. Benstede stared at his knights.

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They were two of the finest men he’d had the pleasure of knowing, and their presence at his side had provided strength, wisdom, and the occasional solid right hook. He hated to lose them, but he was, himself, a wise man. He squashed his disappointment and looked at the four faces opposite his chair. How he envied them the pleasures that lay ahead. And yet, he’d had his own fair share of such joy. He sighed. “Here’s my suggestion.” Gilles and Guy straightened slightly at his words. “If I read you all aright, there is some more affection here than just the desire to defend the weak and right an injustice. Am I correct?” “Yes, my Lord.” Guy’s answer snapped out first, but Gilles’ was right behind. “Completely, my Lord.” “Very well. Sir Guy Northbridge. You have performed admirably in my service, and I have been proud to ride beside you and call you friend. Will you accept the domain of Maltby Abbey upon such time as Sir Dunstan departs this earth, guarding it with your life, and protecting it, ensuring that it continues to grow and offer tribute to your King? Oh, and Mistress Mechele comes along with it, of course… ” He chuckled as he saw the man’s customary harsh features fall into stunned lines. But he did not wait for a reply, simply turned his head. “Sir Gilles deSoleil. The time we have spent together has reassured me that you too are a worthy and honorable Knight, one whom I also cherish the right to call friend. Will you accept the domain of Lymington, guarding it with your life, protecting not only its lands, but those of its surrounding estates, and making a fair reporting of its tributes to your King? Oh, and since you’ll need a good woman beside you, I’ll toss in Mistress Linnet for good measure… ” Benstede could no longer keep his chuckle hidden as Gilles’ face blanked and his jaw dropped. Both women looked stunned, shocked and excited all at once. “We will, my Lord,” answered the Knights Elemental as one. “Ladies? Do you find this plan tenable? Will you wed these poor lads and save them from a life wasted in loneliness and hardship?” he teased. Linnet snorted, and Mechele giggled. “Gladly, my Lord,” came the simultaneous answer from two sets of lips. “Well then, I think ‘tis a good day’s work we’ve done here. Now run along, all of you. I have accounts to review and a bloody great mess to clean up.” He crossed to the door behind the four as they headed from the room. His bellow followed them down the long hall. “Someone get me some food, will you?”

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***** A S’ennight Later—Maltby Abbey A soft sound punctuated the darkness in the chamber of Sir Guy Northbridge and the new Lady Northbridge. It resembled a moan, and in fact, was caused by Guy, who was sliding his cock gently in and out of his wife’s silken cunny. They’d loved hard and fast, and now it was time for him to simply stroke her to her peak once more, letting the touch of his lips and hands bring her again to the brink of oblivion. And himself as well, come to think of it. “Ah my wife… ” he whispered, more to hear the sound of the words than anything else. “Yesssss, husband,” she cried, as her legs tightened around his waist and her breath began to leave her lips in short quick puffs. “Oh yesss… ” His cock slammed into her now, his balls hitting her body with each stroke and his hands pulling her hips to align her even closer. She was hot, wet, and fit him like a glove. He was truly in heaven. It took no more than seconds for them both to once again reach their release, and Guy cried out as his seed spurted from him and filled his wife’s body, and, he hoped, her womb. To give Mechele his child, to raise their family together—such a miracle it would be. His heart glowed as bright as the sun as he collapsed over the prostrate body of the woman who had stolen his heart. At the same moment, at Northbridge House… Lady Linnet duSoleil sat astride her new husband and thought that nothing could equal the magnificent feeling of his cock buried deep within her, and his hands playing with her breasts and her mound. She moaned and arched her back, giving him access to her body, and probably her soul too. She knew he’d take good care of both. His hips were moving now, and she met his gaze, blue eyes striking sparks from her brown ones as he neared his release. She rode him hard, knowing that he could take all she could give, and more. They’d loved slowly and gently at first, but now was the time to let go, and allow their heat to burn them both.

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She shuddered and pushed down, eagerly meeting his hard cock as it thrust up inside her. She could swear that she felt him at her womb. “Now, Gilles, now… ” she screamed, heedless of the rest of the household. The room rang with her cries and her husband obeyed her without a murmur. He buried himself to the hilt, deeper and deeper, and then shouted aloud as his cock pumped her full. She forced herself as far as she could onto his body, feeling her inner muscles tightening and pulling his seed from him and up into her very soul. She wanted his child. To bear him fine sons and daughters and make the house ring with their laughter. Saints, never had a woman loved a man more. Her sunny husband had warmed her cool heart and brought light into places she’d not known were dark. Until he’d touched her. Together they collapsed, sweaty, sticky, panting and happy. Northbridge House fell silent at last.

***** And so the North Wind blew on the delicately swollen and moist tissues of his beloved wife and made her shiver—not with cold but with desire. And the Sun shone on his beloved wife, warming her heart and melting her into the passionate woman she’d suppressed for so long. The estate of Northbridge, as it was now known, eventually merged with that of Maltby, and to this day the little village of Northbridge-Maltby thrives amidst green fields and quiet forests. Its oldest churchyard boasts a pair of matching gravestones, side by side. The inscription on each is identical, and is often wondered at by tourists who find themselves with time to spare in this enchanting hamlet. “Here Lie Two Brave Knights And their loves. They Brought Fresh Winds, Sunshine, and Joy. They will always be with us.” And in truth, they always are. For a little way down the street from the ancient graveyard is a pub with a very unusual name, where cool drinks are served and warm conversation enjoyed. The sign swinging above the door displays a painting of crossed swords above the words…The Knights Elemental. 98

About the author: Sahara Kelly was transplanted from old England to New England where she now lives with her husband and teenage son. Making the transition from her historical regency novels to Romantica™ has been surprisingly easy, and now Sahara can’t imagine writing anything else. She is dedicated to the premise that everybody should have fantasies. Sahara Kelly welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.

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