Colette Gale - Bound by Honor

He pulled her onto the bed and fell with her, taking her hand and bringing it to the great bulge between his legs. She fumbled with it through his braies, trying to think on anything but what she was doing.

But then he was fondling her breasts, kissing and licking her nipples, and she felt his breathing rise and the insistence in his movements as he pushed her back flat onto the bed. He straddled her now, and she closed her eyes, unwilling to look at his face as he prepared to push himself inside her.

A sharp tweak at her left nipple had her crying out in pain and her eyes flying open. “Do you not think to pretend disinterest,” he said, his face very near hers. Warm wine breath puffed over her and he smiled. “I expect that you will be a willing participant, Marian, or I might become annoyed. I do not believe you’d want me to be annoyed with you.”

Remembering the restraints, and the whips on the other side of the chamber, and the chessboard he’d made on the back of a woman who’d angered him, Marian kept her eyes open after that. Even when his fingers delved deep inside her, stroking and pinching and squeezing, she did nothing but bite her lip and try to think of something else. She dared not close her eyes again, but she wished to be somewhere else.

She’d tried the tactic of playing with his cock, trying to make him excited enough to get the act over with, to finish and be done with it . . . but he’d only enjoyed that more, and made her stop and start over and over again, as if it made his pleasure grow to come so close and then to have the finish delayed.

He bade her wrap her hair around his cock and use the bright red locks to stroke him, but that made for awkward movements and he became frustrated with the game. Tearing off his braies, he took himself in hand, poising in front of her on the bed, and Marian thought at last it would all soon be over.

Just then the door opened and closed, silently. She didn’t hear but saw the movement behind John, or she might not have been aware that Will had just entered the room.

He had a sword in his hand, and he looked as if he’d just come from a battle. The expression on his grimy, sweaty face was the same blank, cold one she’d seen many times. Will didn’t look at Marian other than a brief glance, but he moved forward and pressed the tip of his sword into John’s back just as the prince seemed to sense his presence.

“Move away from her, my lord,” Will said in a tense voice.

“Will,” Marian said desperately. It had almost been over. And now . . . he’d drawn a sword on the prince!

“Nottingham.” John turned warily, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he was naked from the waist down and that he had an impressive erection poking out from beneath his tunic. “I had expected Jem to keep you occupied for much longer.”

Then he seemed to notice the blade and his face turned darker. “You dare come into my chambers armed? And draw it on me?”

“Marian,” Will said without taking his eyes off the prince, “leave now.”

“Will, nay,” she began, seeing that he had no intention of dropping the blade from its threatening stance until she obeyed.

“Do not be a fool, Nottingham,” John said, reaching forward to jostle one of Marian’s breasts, giving his adversary a mocking smile. “You cannot keep me from what I desire. You’ve partaken and you will no longer hold me off.”

The sword tip moved closer, pressing into John’s tunic, and Marian gasped. She looked at Will, her eyes pleading with him not to continue with the madness, but it was already too late.

John’s face had gone dark and wild. “You’ll hang for this, Nottingham. I would have permitted a bit of insolence, but you go too far.”

“Marian, you must leave.”

“The woman is not worth your neck,” John said angrily.

“Aye, she is. Remove your hands from her, or I will drive this straight through.”

Marian felt tears welling up in her eyes. Fool! Fool! Did he not know what he was doing? He’d hang and she would be left alone.

“The queen is due to arrive any day,” Marian said.

John looked at her, his eyes narrow. “You lie.”

“Nay, I do not. She comes to see what you have plotted against the king.”

“Marian!” Will cried.

“I would know if a message from my mother had made its way here. She is not coming, and if she were, I-”

“You would . . . ?”

The strong, calm voice from the doorway stopped all of them.

Despite her nakedness, Marian dropped to her knees at the miraculous sight of Queen Eleanor. Her clothing was dusty from travel, her snow-white hair wisping from behind her traditional veil. But her blue eyes were sharp and clear as a bird’s.

Will dropped his sword and fell to his knees as well. Marian caught a glimpse of his face; it was back to dark and emotionless once again.

“John? You were saying?”

The prince adjusted his tunic so that it covered his sagging cock, gave a little bow to his mother, but remained silent.

“Lady Marian. From the sight before me, it appears that you have at the least accomplished the task I set you?”

Marian nodded, feeling John’s and Will’s eyes on her. “Did you receive my second missive, Your Highness?”

“Aye, I did indeed, and that is the reason I made such haste getting here. As you can see, I have just arrived. It was suggested by my half niece, Alys, whom I met in the bailey, that you might be in need of my . . . presence.” She turned and looked at John, her eyes cold. “ ‘The wild dog’?”

“Your Highness, I can-,” he began.

“Put your breeches on,” Eleanor told him. “And you’ll need to clear all of your . . . eh . . . belongings . . . from these chambers. And have the space thoroughly cleaned. For they will be mine whilst I am here. Which, my dear John, shall be for the foreseeable future.”

Then, for the first time she appeared to notice Will, who’d remained on his knees, head bowed. “And who is this who dares threaten my son?”

He lifted his face and Marian saw the grave seriousness there, reflecting his acceptance that his dishonor had been not only witnessed, but witnessed by the queen. “I am William de Wendeval,” he said in a strong voice that made no attempt of concealment.

Eleanor’s face lost some of its sharpness. “William de Wendeval, the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire?”

“Aye.”

She nodded. “Indeed. Well, then, I have much to say to you. You will attend me in two . . . nay, three hours. Now, go. And take this lady of great distraction and her impossible hair with you.”

With that, they were dismissed.

CHAPTER 19

“You could have been hung,” Marian said, splaying her fingers through the dark hair on Will’s chest. “You should have been hung.”

“So you have reminded me. For nigh on three moons now, Marian,” he replied with an aggrieved tone. His broad hand smoothed up and down the lowest part of her back and she arched automatically against him. “But methinks I am already fairly . . . hung.”

She laughed as he gently prodded her belly with his very interested cock. A surprising sense of humor had lurked beneath his dark personality, only recently beginning to shine through. Marian found it utterly delightful, even if most of his jokes were of the bawdy type.

“ ’ Twas fortunate that the queen was so angry with John that she chose to overlook your . . . uh . . . misstep. Will, you were so foolish!”

“Marian, ’tis finished. We’re far from John’s reach here in Normandy, and here is where we shall stay.”

“But when he is king?” Her humor faded into the black worry that seemed to always hover about, even on the sunniest of days, such as the one on which they’d been wed.

It was her greatest fear. Richard appeared to be uninterested in siring an heir, and it seemed clear that someday John would take the throne. Mayhap sooner than later, if one took into account Richard’s penchant for war.

Will pulled her close, kissing the top of her head with a soft buss. His arms were so warm and strong. . . . She felt safe and loved there. But John would never forgive Will for what he’d done, and when he came to power, he would have his revenge.

“Marian, you know that when I attended Eleanor as she requested, she spoke plainly. Aye, John will never forgive me. And that is why we had to leave England.”

“That I know,” she interrupted. “But when he is king, and Lord of Normandy-”

“There are times,” he said, sighing heavily, “that I wish you were the quiet, submissive woman you pretended to be at Ludlow.”

“I did not pretend to be quiet and submissive,” she retorted. “Did I not poison the prince? And attempt to negotiate with him over chess? And did I not accost the gruff Sheriff of Nottinghamshire and argue about his legal decisions?”

“Aye . . . that is so. I must have a faulty memory. Or mayhap it was only that I wished for it.”

She yanked playfully at a lock of long, dark hair and then brought his face down for a luscious, thorough kiss to let him know she did not mean it. “And did I not,” she murmured against his mouth, “win the archery match against Robin Hood?”

He nodded against her. “ ’ Twas a very proud moment for me, my dearling. To see his very large head deflated so. My only other wish was that I had been the one to do it.”

“Now that we have veered far away from the matter at hand,” she said, “may we return to your private conversation with the queen?” It had never occurred to her in the three moons since they’d left England that he had not told her the entirety of the conversation with Eleanor. “There is something you did not tell me?”

All she’d learned was that they were to leave and return to Morlaix, her lands. This sanctioned escape was recompense for her work for Eleanor, and in thanks for Will’s loyalty to Richard.

“Ah . . . aye. The queen and I agreed that John has a long memory for even the smallest slight, and so we are safe here until he takes the crown. Of course, you know all of that. But because of my service to Richard, she and he have also gifted me with the fief of Leurville, in southern Aquitaine, and that is where you and I will go when John becomes king. ’Tis small, and a vassalage to the queen, but we will never be required to go to court, to pledge allegiance to John. He will not know we are even there. If he even manages to retain his hold on the French lands when he is king.”

He looked down at her, his eyes sober. “I did not tell you for fear you would not agree to leave Morlaix and go into hiding, for that is what it will be as long as John is in power. I will go to Leurville when it becomes necessary, but you do not have to go with me.”

“Morlaix or you? Will, I truly begin to believe you are the veriest of fools. I would never leave your side. For any reason.”

She pulled herself up on her palms to look into his handsome, serious face. “I love you. I do not care if we live as chat elaine and steward in a small manor house for some great lord, or if we have our own lands. As long as we are together, I care not.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “I confess, I prayed you would say thus, but then I was not certain how much like Eleanor you are. She would forsake her own sons or husband for land rather than give it up.”

“She is the queen. I am merely Lady of Morlaix. And now . . . Baroness Leurville.” She smiled up at him. “I am quite fulfilled.”

His eyes grew smoky and heavy-lidded. “Did you say that you were ful . . . filled?” he asked . . . and slid himself inside her. Filling her. Fully.