Special Smashwords Edition
The Tunsey Men 2:
Victoria
by
Wendy Stone
Special Smashwords Edition
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Published by
Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
Tunsey Men 2: Victoria, Wendy Stone Copyright 2009, 2011
ISBN 978-1-61235-219-0
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Credits
Editor: Nancy Schumacher
Copy Editor: Taylor Evans
Format Editor: Mae Powers
Cover Artist: A. Bratt
The Tunsey Men: Victoria
By
Wendy Stone
Chapter One
In the forest, just outside the village gates, a young lad sat upon a tree limb, his bow in his hands, an arrow notched and pulled, ready to fly. He kept his eyes on the prey he’d chosen, a fine looking buck with a rack to be proud of. Waiting for the perfect shot, he controlled his breathing and was just about to let the arrow fly when the buck jumped, a feathered projectile protruding from his side.
“Well, fuck me,” the boy growled, his voice sounding very young and somewhat girlish. “Who’s poaching on my deer?”
Letting the string relax, keeping the arrow notched, he easily dropped from the tree limb, his eyes on the surrounding area.
“Nice shot, Mall,” Safford said, slapping his brother on the shoulder. “Lisette will enjoy the taste of a venison roast.”
“He should feed us well for quite some time,” Mall grinned, agreeing with his brother. It had been a good shot. He kept walking toward where the buck now laid, his side heaving in pain from the wound.
“What the…” he growled, when a young boy came out of the tree almost on top of him. The boy was short, with dark curly hair and big blue eyes surrounded by feminine looking lashes. There was enough dirt on the lad to replant a field and his hair looked as if someone had taken a knife to it and just chopped off bits and pieces to keep it out of his eyes.
“Get out of the way, boy. We’ve got men’s work to do.”
“That deer is mine,” the boy said, standing his ground and raising his bow towards the men. “I’ve been stalking it for over an hour.”
“It was my arrow that done the deed, boy,” Mall snapped, tiring of the boy’s interference. He was just plain tired after the problems of the day. “Stand aside.”
“No,” the boy snapped. “I’m not letting you take that meat.”
Mall chuckled even as Safford rolled his eyes at the orneriness of the boy’s reply. “And what’ll a little thing like you do about it?”
Safford bent over suddenly, grabbing his shin. “Damn me, but the little bugger just kicked me,” he growled.
Mall was letting out a curse of his own, barely ducking the bow that came flying out towards him. “Whoa.” He stepped back, watching as the young boy took up a stance with the bow that was threatening. Mall put out his hands, palms up, trying to soothe the youth. “Take it easy, youngin’. Ain’t no reason to throw such tantrums. How about we give you a leg to take home to your folks?”
“It’s my deer. I’m taking it all,” the boy snarled.
“How are you planning on getting it home, boy? There’s no way you’re going to be able to lift that deer, it weighs more than you do.”
“That’s none of your concern. You’re poaching on the king’s lands and killing his deer.” He stood straighter, relaxing his guard some. His eyes were riveted upon Mall. “You leave now and I won’t report you to King Maxim.”
Safford tapped the boy on his shoulder, waiting until he turned, surprised by the sudden appearance of the man. Saff let his fist fly, catching the boy on the chin and watching as he went down instantly.
“Saff, damn man, what are you doing?” Mall dropped his bow, hurrying over to the boy. He put his hand on the boy’s face checking his chin. “You could do serious damage, you idiot.”
“I pulled the punch, I barely touched him.” Saff grinned. He watched as Mall checked his breathing and the bump that grew on his chin. “Bugger it, Mall, quit mother-henning him. He kicked me.”
Mall rested his hand on the boy’s chest, making sure it rose and fell. His eyes narrowed and he moved his hand on the slender youth. “Fuck me, it can’t be,” he growled.
“What can’t be?” Saff said, Mall’s tone telling him something was amiss.
“This boy,” Mall said, staring up at his brother, “has tits.”
Safford sank down next to the boy that had tried to get between them and the deer Mall had shot, his hand reaching out and landing on a soft mound that was absolutely undeniable. “Damn, I hit a girl,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. “Glad I pulled the punch.”
“You may have pulled it, Saff, but she’s out like a light.”
“Maybe we should loosen her clothes,” Saff said, a smirking grin on his lips as he moved his hand over the breast he hadn’t released yet. “I mean, to make it easier for her to breathe.”
“Yeah, that’s what you meant,” Mall said in disgust, reaching out and taking Saff’s hand off the girl. “Quit molesting her. You already knocked her out.”
“It was an accident,” Saff declared, looking over at his brother who seemed fascinated by the difference of boyish looks and female body. “You think she’s pretty?”
“Can’t rightly tell with all the dirt on her face. Maybe we should take her back with us.” Mall glanced up at his brother, waiting for his approval.
Safford just shrugged. “Can’t leave her here to become varmint food, I guess. But don’t you think the king is going to be upset about having some girl poaching his deer?”
“Fuck me,” Mall groaned. “I didn’t think of that. Would King Maxim toss her in the dungeon for something like that?”
“Why you asking me?” Saff growled. “Do I look like I know what a king’s thinking?”
“Definitely not,” Mall muttered. “Half the time you hardly know what you’re thinking.” He easily ducked the fist heading his way. “Grab the deer,” he said finally. “We can’t just leave her here, so we might as well take her with us.”
Mall lifted the small woman into his arms, amazed by how light she was. He heard Saff yelling about how it was his kill and he should have to gut it. That surprised a laugh out of him. Saff hated blood and guts, and now, he had to cut open the deer and remove its innards before he could haul the thing to his shoulders to carry back to the castle. Mall definitely got the better of the deal.
Thinking that had him glancing down into the unconscious girl’s face. If you scraped off some of the filth, she wouldn’t be a bad looking little thing. Little was definitely the word for it. Standing, this scrape of a girl barely came to his chest. Maybe she weren’t through growing, he thought, smiling.
* * * *
Victoria Arrington, daughter to the Earl of Leicester, stirred uneasily in the bed she was in. If it would only quit moving, she might be able to get some sleep. Grumbling under her breath, she turned her face, her pillow warm and smelling of the outside and a little of something spicy that she couldn’t name right off. Raising her hand, she tried to pillow her face on it, growing amazed at how it slid off every time she relaxed.
Her eyes fluttered open and she saw tree branches around her. That fact alone wouldn’t have surprised her any for she’d fallen asleep in the forest many times. But the fact that the branches were moving did surprise her. She tried to lift her head, only to moan when a sudden burst of pain had her head spinning.
“Oh,” she moaned, her hand going to her jaw and feeling the lump that was growing upon it. “What happened?”
“My brother cold cocked you.”
. She looked around her for a moment before her eyes flew to the face of the man who held her so securely and easily in his arms. “You!”
The single word was an accusation and one that made Mall flinch.
“Let me down!” she shouted, struggling against him and almost falling when he did as she asked so quickly. She struggled to retain her balance but lost the fight, sprawling on her ass before him. “Oh!” she growled, her fist coming down to hit the ground. “First you take my deer, than your brother hits me, now you drop me on the ground,” she snarled. “What’s next? Pistols at ten paces?” Tory forced herself to her feet, looking way up the man’s chest and into his face. “What are you, some kind of giant?”
“I’m Mallory Tunsey, Miss. I’m sorry for what my brother did, it weren’t right. But as far as that deer, I shot it fair and square. There’s no use in calling foul when no foul has been made.” Mall rubbed at his chin, scratching at the whiskers there as he thought.
“Miss?” the girl asked. “I’m no Miss.” She watched the smile that came over his face and blushed as his eyes dropped to her chest.
“Then how’d you get them tits if you ain’t no woman?” he asked her wryly, chuckling even more when she wrapped her arms around herself protectively.
“That’s not a question you should be asking,” she groaned, dropping her eyes when she felt her cheeks redden even more.
When he stayed quiet, staring at her with a smile that just made her temper flare all the more, she couldn’t help but ask. “Where were you taking me?”
“We’re staying with the king. I was taking you there rather than let you be varmint food. Course, I didn’t know what the king would say to the fact that you were poaching on his deer.”
“King Maxim knows that I hunt in his woods. He’s allowed it since I was young.” Tory dropped her arms, looking up into the man’s face. He was a handsome lout, despite being too large and too loud. His hair was a sable color, brown with hints of red that glistened in the dawning sunlight. His eyes were lighter, almost an amber, with hints of green that were startling. He had strong features and a wide smile that seemed to light up his face. “I didn’t know the king had company staying with him.”
“He didn’t know, either,” Mall laughed. “My brother married his daughter last night.”
“Now I know you’re playing me false,” Tory exclaimed angrily. “Princess Lisette was engaged to marry Prince Rodbert. Rodbert has no male siblings.”
“Prince Rodbert was killed when Lisette was kidnapped. My brother, Giff, rescued her and then married her. You’re a nosy one, ain’t you?”
“And you’re rude,” she growled. She turned on her heel, meaning to walk away from the boorish knave. When his hand fell upon her shoulder, stopping her, she turned back, almost spitting. “Let me go!”
“I cannot do that,” he said reasonably enough. “I think I must take you before the king and let him decide if your poaching is legal or not.”
Tory stared at the hand on her shoulder than suddenly grabbed it, sinking her teeth into the back. Tasting blood in her mouth and hearing his shout of rage, she dropped his hand, spinning and taking off, fleeing like a frightened rabbit through the brush.
“Bloody bitch,” Mall growled, sighing as he wrapped his hand in a handkerchief before taking off after her. For a large man, he could maneuver through the trees with a grace that was amazing to see. He managed to keep her in sight, following her until she stopped to rest.
Stepping from behind the tree that she was resting against, he grabbed her arm, planting his hand across her mouth when she tried to yell. “You need to be taught a lesson on how to treat your betters.”
She shook her head, pulling away from his hand. “You think you’re better than me?”
Mall glared at her, unable to believe the haughty tone of her voice. “I have better manners, tis for sure. You act the guttersnipe.”
“Victoria?”
The soft and feminine voice startled Mall, making him turn and stare up at the vision that sat upon a somewhat pudgy mare. “What has she done now?” the vision said to him, looking at the wrapped, bloodstained linen on his hand.
“You know this one?” he asked.
“Sorrowfully, yes. She is my sister, sir. As such, I must ask you to unhand her. If she as harmed you in any way, I will be sure to have my father make restitution.”
Mallory eyed the soft beauty seated upon the mare and then glanced down at the shrew he still held in his hand. There was a world of difference in the two, except for their eyes. Both had wide blue eyes of a shade that was startling in its beauty.
The vision though, had longish black curls, pulled back from the sides and cascading down her back, the tips resting against the back of her saddle. She was very attractively dressed in a gown of rose silk with a deep square neckline. The round tops of her breasts were exposed, the deep dip of her cleavage hidden by a lacy fichu that covered part of her shoulders as well.
“Who is your father?” Mall asked, slowly releasing his captive.
“Our father is the Earl of Leicester, sir. His estates border that of King Maxim’s to the north and east. I fear my sister has made a nuisance of herself by hunting on the king’s grounds, but King Maxim is such a generous and kind man, he allows it.” She glanced back at her sister, as the girl made her escape, walking slowly away from where she sat upon her horse.
“And who might you be?” Mall asked, smiling at the pretty woman and showing a hint of charm.
“My name is Veronica, sir. Victoria is my twin sister. Will you return the favor and gift me with your name?”
“Mallory Tunsey, Veronica. Such a pretty name, Veronica, it suits you.”
“Thank you, sir. I must return now, my father will need to be told of the happenings of the court,” she said quietly, lifting her reins to turn the small mare.
“Wait,” Mall called, stepping closer. “I-I’d like to see you again if I may.”
“That will be up to my father, Mr. Tunsey. He receives visitors on Tuesday and Wednesday.” She smiled at the handsome man then followed her sister down the small trail.
Mall stood where he was, watching her slender back until she disappeared. “Veronica,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be there.”
* * * *
“Victoria!” Veronica called again, heading up the long winding staircase. “Answer me!”
“I have answered you, Veronica,” Tory said angrily, moving up the stairs quickly. “I don’t wish to discuss it any more.”
“You haven’t discussed it at all. I cannot believe father allows you to wear those clothes even now. You are such an embarrassment.”
Then why do you claim to know me, Ronnie? Wouldn’t it serve you better to claim I was just some guttersnipe that had trespassed upon your land?” Tory turned, her anger finally getting the better of her. “If you hate me so much, why do you care what I do? Just say you do not know me.”
“I wish it were possible,” Veronica snarled. “But unfortunately, we look too much alike for me to deny knowing you.”
Tory felt the same surge of pain she always felt when her sister spoke to her in such a way. She should be used to the derision and the hatred Ronnie always showed her now, but she couldn’t help but remember how close they had once been. It was only recently, since Ronnie had begun thinking of finding a husband that she’d grown to hate Tory so.
Tory closed her eyes for a moment, then turned and resumed her way up the long set of stairs that led to her chamber. She tried to block out the sound of her sister’s voice as she continued her harangue, criticizing everything from the way she dressed to the cut of her hair. Finally closing her chamber door in Ronnie’s face, she slipped the lock, ignoring the knocking and knowing she would stop soon if Tory just pretended she wasn’t there.
With a sigh of relief, she sank down upon the small bench that sat in front of her dressing table, the seldom used mirror reflecting back the image of a young lad with lopped off curls. She should have been born a boy; she should have the freedoms that a man would have at her age, not the stigmas that came with being an earl’s daughter. If only, she sighed, knowing that if onlies got her nowhere in life.
“At least Father understands,” she sighed again, picking up the brush and twirling it between her fingers. He did, at least he seemed to. She didn’t want to marry some rich lord and become a trophy, something pretty for her husband to bring out and show off, then ship off to the country when he tired of her. She wanted more than that, freedom and the right to have her own life.
Even as she thought that, the image of the man in the forest came to her mind. Mallory Tunsey, tall and broad with an engaging grin and startling eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would think if he knew what she wanted. Probably what every other male thought.
She rose from the bench, walking to the wide four-poster bed. With another heavyhearted sigh, she sank down on the thick comforter, kicking her feet up on the bed, still clad in her dirty boots. She’d been up well before dawn tracking and hunting that buck. Now she was exhausted and had nothing to show for it. All because of Mallory Tunsey. Her eyes slipped closed and she slept.
* * * *
Mallory walked into the great hall of King Maxim’s court, staring around at the few people who were up at this early hour. He looked around the room, his eyes finally landing upon Safford. He sat, surrounded by three young kitchen maids who all giggled as he charmed each one. One sat upon his knee, her arms around his neck, his hand upon her knee, under her skirts.
“My God, Saff, I send you back here with a buck and catch you making out with wenches who would cook it!”
Saff shifted the girl on his lap, his hand sliding up even further under her skirt as she let her thighs slip open. His fingers brushed soft fur then slipped into heated, wet flesh, moving gently against her even as she giggled and gasped. “Jealous, brother?” he called, smirking at the look upon Mallory’s face.
“Disgusted,” Mall said. “What do you need three for?”
“Well, I did plan upon sharing at least one. If you had been nice about it anyways.” He grinned as the young one upon his lap moaned and shifted, rubbing herself against him in ways that had him thinking of finding a quiet place to finish their play. She gasped and he felt her grow even wetter. “This one is well primed,” he called, nodding to the girl.
Mallory stepped forward, his eyes upon the girl on Saff’s lap. Her legs were parted, her skirt riding up around her waist. Saff’s fingers were well placed, one slipping between her thick lips and sliding deep inside, his thumb circling the stiff flesh of her clit. The other two girls moved closer to Saff, one sliding her lips up Safford’s throat to his ear, her tongue trailing over the whorl.
Mall reached out, grabbing the girl’s waist and lifting her into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms coming around his neck. He turned, readying to leave the hall to find a little privacy.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Mall cringed, slowly turning his head and watching as Gifford made his way into the hall, his arm settled possessively around Lisette.
“Uh, Safford started it,” Mall claimed, quickly unwrapping the girl from around him and setting her to the floor.
“Thanks brother,” Saff growled, throwing a crust of bread at Mall.
“I thought I taught you manners,” Giff growled, releasing Lisette to come over and swat Safford on the back of his head.
Mall heard Lisette giggle even as she scolded the girls, sending them quickly about their duties.
“Hey,” Saff shouted. “What, you think you’re the only one who should partake? Just because you got married don’t make you any better than us, Gifford.”
“What about that little girl you seemed so intent to find in the tailor’s shop?” Giff growled, holding his hand out to his wife.
“What girl?” Lisette asked, coming to her husband’s side with a smile. “Perhaps I will know of her.”
“Giselle,” Mallory said, watching as Saff’s face grew red.
“Shut up,” he grouched, shifting uneasily in his seat.
“Giselle?” Lisette looked up at Gifford, her eyes shining. “Lady Giselle Claire?”
“We never found out any other name,” Giff said. “Do you know of her?”
“Yes, I do,” Lisette answered, smiling coyly. “But I don’t think Safford would enjoy her company.”
“Why not?” Saff asked. “Do you think she’s too good for me?”
“I didn’t say that, but,” she sighed and tried to figure out the words to tell her new brother-in-law the woes of courting Lady Giselle. “Giselle isn’t quite like any other girl, Saff. She’s a bit on the spoiled side.”
“That we figured out,” Giff said, chuckling. “But I think Saff might be able to change her mind. She really took to his kisses.”
“You kissed Giselle?” Lisette asked, astounded. “And you’re still alive?”
“It’d take more than a little girl like that to kill me off,” Saff growled as his brothers laughed. “So,” he began, trying to sound nonchalant, “where does Lady Giselle live?”
“If your brother wasn’t set upon returning home today, I could have invited her here for a few days. I grew up with Giselle.” Lisette glanced up at Giff as she spoke.
“You know, Giff,” Mall spoke up, “watching Saff grovel and beg for a few days might be worth taking a break from work.” He quickly moved out of reach of his middle brother, chuckling at the look on Safford’s face.
“It just might at that,” Giff agreed. “But would your father want company, especially now that his wife is dead? Shouldn’t he be mourning her loss?”
“It’s not much of a loss,” a deep voice said from the staircase and they all turned. “I realized Edwina was a mistake a few months after marrying her. I just didn’t realize how much of a mistake until now.” King Maxim held his hand out to his daughter, hugging her to him before letting her go back to her husband. “There isn’t anything to mourn for. My kingdom, my daughter and my life will be much better off for her death.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if we stayed a few more days, Father?” Lisette asked from her position at her husband’s side. “We wouldn’t want to put you out.”
“Nonsense. It is time for some life here, for too long a pall has been cast over my kingdom, we need to celebrate.” King Maxim moved toward the group, setting himself down upon the bench in front of one of the long tables. He waved away the servants that hovered over him, leaning upon the table to stare at Safford. “You have a yearning for the Lady Giselle?”
“Does the whole world need to know, your Highness?” Saff grumbled, feeling his face flush red. “Yes, I do.”
“Giselle is a sweet girl,” King Maxim said, laughing at the snorts from the other two men. “She is misunderstood.”
“She is a harridan,” Mall said. “But if you are inviting, I wouldn’t mind if an invite was sent to Lady Veronica.”
“Veronica of Leicester?” Lisette asked, surprised. “How do you know of her?”
“Did that little wretch we met today belong to her?” Saff asked.
“You could say that. I met Lady Veronica this morning when I was returning her sister.”
“That termagant in the woods was a Lady?” Saff’s disbelief was almost palpable.
“Safford,” Giff said, his voice dripping with warning.
“He’s got her pegged right, Giff. The little wench took after me, claiming I’d stolen her kill. She had the nerve to bite me,” he said, holding up his kerchief-covered hand. “I was chasing her down when I stumbled upon Veronica in the woods taking a ride.”
“Veronica and Victoria are twins,” Lisette said. “But two more different girls could never exist. They were my closest and dearest friends for a while.”
“What happened?” Mall asked, curious about the sweet young lady who’d stolen his fancy.
“My step-mother happened. But that is neither here nor there now. I think a party is in order, nothing fancy, perhaps a hunt. What do you think, Father?”
“I think that I am so happy you are well, my darling daughter. If this will keep you here a few more days, than I will open up the castle to any number of women you wish to fill it with.” He chuckled as he looked at Giff’s concerned frown. “Be easy, son. It will only be a few days and then you might steal her away for yourself.”
Giff looked down upon his wife’s animated features. “If it is what she wishes, then we will stay.”
Lisette clapped her hands together then turned and threw her arms around her husband’s neck. “I love you,” she cried, not caring who heard.
Her husband smiled, lifting her easily with one arm around her waist. He spun her around until she cried out for him to stop then found her lips with his own.
The kiss began softly, a mere meeting of lips. But it was as if they could not help what they felt, and it grew, lips parting, tongues dueling and rubbing, a sharing of heated breath.
Mall cleared his throat then did it once again when the two continued to feast upon each other. “Perhaps you’d like to retire for a nap,” he suggested loudly, laughing when Lisette’s face reddened and Gifford turned an annoyed glare upon him.
* * * *
They broke their fast, Lisette only having to threaten to knock heads together twice before they remembered the manners their mother had tried to instill upon them. It took Safford only once of hearing how the Ladies Giselle and Veronica were just that, ladies, and would not look upon slurped and spilled food with aplomb.
After that, he watched how King Maxim ate, mimicking him as best he could. When Maxim noticed Saff’s eyes upon him, he began to silently teach the man the things he would need to know to impress a lady of Giselle’s rank. By the end of the meal, Safford had learned how to use utensils besides his eating dagger and was cutting his food into bite-sized pieces instead of stabbing it with his dagger and biting into it like a hungry dog.
Mall had watched the interplay between the two, laughing silently. He would not change for Lady Veronica. She seemed to like him as he was. “Gifford, we shall need clothing if we are to stay. I shall ride back to the cottage and get us one more to sell.”
“One more? It might take more than that, but then, it might be suspect of where they came from,” Giff growled, glancing back at the king as he leaned closer to his brother. “What you going to say if someone starts asking questions?”
“I won’t say nothing. It’s none of anybody’s business where they come from. But we gotta have clothes, Giff. If we wear nothing but these clothes, the ladies are going to look at us funny.”
“Father,” Lisette called, garnering King Maxim’s attention. “The brothers are going to need use of your tailor if we are to stay. They brought nothing else when they came to find me.”
“Oh, tis fine and good. Tell the man to make them each whatever they need and to hire whomever he needs to complete the task,” Maxim said with a slight wave of his fork. “Can’t have them going courting in the same clothes every day.”
The meal was soon finished and Lisette retired to her rooms to begin the task of writing out the invitations. She was excited for it was the first real entertaining that her father had done since marrying Edwina. She made her list, and was sitting and reading it over when the door behind her opened.
Thinking it was Gifford, she turned, a welcoming smile upon her beautiful face. When she saw who was framed in the doorway, that smile turned to a frown of fear. “What do you want here? Gifford is close by. He will not allow you to hurt me again.”
“I didn’t hurt you in the first place, Princess. That was Edwina’s pleasure. I did what I could to stop you from being hurt.” Jasper stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. He looked different than he had before, younger, more virile than he’d appeared in the cave.
“What do you want?” she asked, getting up from her writing desk and using the chair to keep distance between them.
“I tasted of your youth and of your beauty that day, but the taste was tainted. You were not virginal, were you?”
“I-I’m not going to discuss that with you. Leave, now, or I’ll scream and Gifford will kill you for what you did to me.” Lisette saw his hand come up, and strangely, felt her fear leave her.
“You don’t wish my death,” Jasper whispered. He stepped closer. “You wish to come with me.”
“I-I wish…” she hesitated, her voice growing confused, her eyes darting away from him. The blankness in her mind still held sway, but it wasn’t as all-consuming as it had been when he’d first spoke to her. “I-I wish to…”
There was a pounding upon the door and the knob turned then wiggled. “Lisette?” Gifford called. “Open the door, love.”
Jasper stared at the door, a growl of rage coming to his lips. He turned back to Lisette, quickly putting a thought into her mind. Then, going to the window, he waved his hand and jumped through it, disappearing from sight instantly.
Lisette shook her head, as if awaking from some strange kind of dream. She stared down at the hands that were wrapped around the top part of the chair she’d been sitting in, confused. “What was I doing?”
“Lisette!” Gifford’s voice came through the door once more and she turned toward it. He pounded upon it, twisting the knob again and almost falling through it when the door opened easily.
His eyes searched the room until they found her, still standing with the chair between her and the rest of the room. “Are you all right?” he demanded, striding across the room to gather her in his arms. “Didn’t you hear me knocking and calling for you?”
“N-no,” she stammered. “I-I must have been lost in thought.”
“Lost in thought? I pounded on that door for five minutes. It must be sticky or something because I couldn’t get it to open right away.” He looked down into her face, lifting her chin with his fingers. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes,” she said, determinedly putting a smile upon her face. “I am fine. Did you need something?”
“Yes, I definitely need something,” he said, letting his voice grow husky as he lifted her off her feet. “I need some of my wife’s undivided attention.” He turned, taking her from the room as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
Her eyes rested upon the window, a confused frown furrowing her forehead, and then Gifford kicked the door shut behind them.
Chapter Two
The pounding on the door startled Victoria so much that she actually shrieked. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so alarming if she hadn’t been passing in front of the huge wooden door so early, but she was sneaking out of the castle to go and retrieve her bow, left in the woods by that knave.
Just the thought of Mallory Tunsey made her teeth hurt from grinding them and put a scowl to her face. So much so that when she pulled open the wooden door, the man whose hand was raised to pound once more actually took a step back.
“What?” Tory asked irritably.
“I have a royal invitation for the ladies of this household,” the man said.
Then and only then did Tory note the royal livery the man was wearing, the dark purple and gold looking very regal and stately. “I’ll take it,” she said, reaching out her hand to snatch the folded missive from his hand. She was about to close the door in the man’s face when he shoved his foot inside, stopping her.
“I’m supposed to wait for a reply, young sir.”
Tory shook her head in disgust. She’d been playing the boy so long that it always amazed her when someone couldn’t see through her disguise. She flicked her filthy nail under the wax seal that held the folded paper closed, hearing the gasp of distress from the man before her.
“That is for the ladies of the household,” he almost shouted, stepping forward.
“Don’t get your hose in a bunch, I am one of the ladies of the household,” she snarled. She skimmed over the missive, sighing heavily. A hunt was being held as well as a ball in honor of Princess Lisette’s marriage. All single ladies were invited to attend. “Lady Veronica will be most happy to attend,” she said.
“You are the Lady Veronica?” the page asked.
“No,” Tory said, slamming the door shut in the startled man’s face. She ignored the knocking that came only seconds later, instead detouring into the smaller breakfast room and slipping the invitation onto Veronica’s plate where she’d be sure to see it. Then she slipped down the servant’s hall, passing through the kitchen that was ever busy with preparing food for all the hungry mouths of the castle folk. She nabbed a sweet roll from a plate and then slipped an apple into her pocket, giving Cook a cheeky grin and shuffling out the back door.
The bailey was empty, well mostly empty but for a few chickens and one lad who lazily spread feed upon the hard ground. Tory smiled at the boy, waved at him and then walked down the path to the stables. She would get her mount and take him back to where she’d shot the deer. If her bow was damaged in any way, she would take it out on that Mallory Tunsey, see if she didn’t.
Her father’s stables were extensive, filled with some of the finest horseflesh to be found. It was the earl’s hobby, breeding and raising racers and hunters and selling them off for a vast profit. Tory loved to work with the horses, helping to train and raise the young horses until it became time to sell them off.
Now she took a deep breath, savoring the scent of horse that permeated the stables. It was a healthy smell, one that spoke of the power that lay beneath the shiny hides of the horses. Down the row of stables, a dark head poked through a half opened door, a nickering of welcome coming to her ears.
“Ah, my beauty,” she said softly, her eyes roaming over the delicately formed head of her personal mount. He was black as a starless night, his mane thick and rich, his ears gracefully perked. A blaze of white zigzagged across his wide nose matching the three white socks upon his hooves. She had named him Black Blaze the moment she’d seen him, standing shakily at his mother’s side. He’d been hers from that moment, a gift from her father.
Now, her hand rose, tracing that shockingly white bolt and she laughed when he blew into her hand, turning to lip at the mussed chunks of her hair. “Stop that,” she giggled, good naturedly pushing the horse back to push open the door and step inside his stall.
The horse stepped forward, nuzzling at her pockets as if scenting the treat she’d brought for him. “You’re so greedy, if you don’t watch it, I shall have to get a wider saddle for you.”
Blaze shook his huge head then nipped at her pants, eyeing her. “Fine,” she said, reaching in and pulling out the apple. “But if you get fat, it’s not going to be my fault.”
He plucked it from her hand with a delicate lip, his teeth never coming close to her skin. While he ate, Tory grabbed his brush, using it upon his hide to rid him of any loose hair and to make him shine. Then she grabbed his tack, saddling him with a familiar hand before opening the stall once more.
“Come on, Blaze. Let’s go for a ride before Father stops us.”
As if by speaking of him, she conjured him before her. “Too late,” her father said, crossing his arms over his wide chest. In his hand, she could see the invitation she’d left upon Veronica’s plate. “Would you care to explain this?”
“Uh, no?” she said solemnly, looking up at her father with innocent eyes.
He was handsome, the Earl of Leicester. Barely forty, he was broad of shoulder and tall with dark curls and blue eyes that were usually smiling. This morning though, the smile was missing from his eyes and his mouth. “I found this and managed to stop the page that delivered it. You will be attending this with your sister, Victoria. I have let you run wild long enough.”
“Run wild?” Tory asked, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not wild. If I were a man, you would not even notice my actions or perhaps you’d join in with me on the hunt or for a ride along the cliffs. But no, because of an error at birth, I am bound to wear skirts that hamper my feet and bow and scrape to a man for my food.” She kicked at a stray tuft of hay. “Tis not fair father and is not something that I shall ever do willingly.”
“Then I suppose you should pray that the man we find to marry you will have the same blind eye I have had as far as taking you in hand.” He smiled, though it did not reach the blue of his eyes. “I have left you to your own devices too long in my grief at your mother’s death, little Tory. If you only knew how much like you she was…” he sighed heavily. “But that is neither here nor there. You will be going with your sister to the king’s hunt and you will do your very best to act as I expect you to or else.”
“Or else what, Father? You’ll lock me in my room, take away my supper, treat me more like the prisoner than I already feel? What more could you do to me, Father?” Her blue eyes turned hard, she moved past him, Blaze following behind her more like a faithful dog than a horse.
The earl turned, watching as she mounted her horse, kicking him in the side and heading for the gate.
* * * *
Mallory groaned, soft lips nibbling upon his ear, a small hand rubbing delicate circles upon his chest. He smiled, not yet willing to open his eyes to disrupt the very willing girl who was caressing him with such promise. His hand came up, pulling at a rough, homespun skirt, inveigling his fingers beneath to draw it above her hips.
Her hips were full, soft with a cushion made to please a man and make his ride to bliss that much more pleasurable. His fingers delved between thighs that were plump and soft, meant to cradle a man’s hips. He felt a crinkling of wiry hair then found a plump quim rich and creamy with a woman’s desire.
“My lord,” the girl giggled, coming to lie atop his wide chest, her large breasts pressing into him. “Wake and begin your morn with me.”
Her thighs spread, opening over his groin, pressing into his blanket covered cock. Mall moaned again as she rubbed against him, her feet working to push the blanket from his body.
“Touch me, my lord,” she whispered against his ear. “Feel my titties. Are they not beautiful?”
“Yes,” he growled, opening his eyes, his hand going to the firm mounds that hung down from her body to rub against his bare chest. He mauled them lustily, dragging her upward and capturing one hanging nipple in his mouth, laving the plump treat with the tip of his tongue. Dragging her skirt up, he kicked the blanket off of himself, pushing his now freed cock against her soft mound. “Who are you?” he moaned around the nipple in his mouth.
“Oh, pooh,” the girl whined, leaning over him. “You say that as if you don’t remember me.”
Mall pushed her down and back with his big hands against her waist. Staring up at the girl, he recognized her as the one who he’d wanted to dally with the morning before after coming in from dropping off that little termagant. “Bridgette?” he asked, making a stab at trying to remember her name.
“No! How could you not remember, my lord?” She began to rise and leave the bed when he tightened his hands at her waist, rolling over with her until she was under him. The move left his cock bumping against her creamy slit, just a scant distance from dipping inside.
“Brenna? Bethany? It does start with a B, does it not?” He bent his head while he waited for her answer, finding her nipple once more and suckling it into the heat of his mouth. She tasted salty, and a slight bit bitter as if she hadn’t washed in a while, but he ignored the flavor, instead flicking the tip rapidly with his tongue.
“It is Bronwyn, my lord.” Her voice showed her displeasure with his forgetfulness, but there was a catch in it that belied her need. That and the hands she wrapped in his hair, holding him to her showed that he was forgiven for his slip.
“Do you wish to fuck me?” she breathed huskily, arching her back against him.
Mall reached down, drawing her legs up and over his arms, pushing them back against her breasts as he rose above her. “What do you think, wench?” he asked, his cock finding her opening and pushing inside. A moan came from his mouth as he seated himself inside of her, savoring the heat and wetness of her saucy cunny.
Bronwyn moved under him, her hips moving as much as they could with her being bent almost in half. She moaned and wiggled, grunting softly with every hard thrust Mall made, her tits jiggling fetchingly. “I think you like me despite not remembering my name,” she giggled.
“You’d be right,” he growled. She was tight around him in this position, almost too tight, for he felt himself ready to shoot his seed within seconds of plundering her depths. Gritting his teeth, he slowed his pace, wanting Bronwyn to find her pleasure first. It was a lesson his brother had smacked into his head since he was young. Give a wench pleasure and she’ll always come back for more, Gifford had said.
To that end, he pulled from her abruptly, flipping her over so that her sweet, white ass was up. Her breasts hung from her top, the nipples red from his fingers. He slapped her ass as she wiggled it, liking the look of his red handprint against her creamy buttocks. “Hold still wench and I’ll give you more than you could ask for.”
“Promises, promises,” Bronwyn grinned, looking over her shoulder at him. “I’ve heard it before.”
“But not from me,” Mall said, a twinkle in his brown eyes. He grasped her hips in his hands, holding her steady, plunging back into her in one quick thrust. Her moan made him smile, though it held a bit of desperation. He pulled back, almost slipping from her pink flesh, before slamming back in to her, hearing her cry. Reaching around her thigh, he found the thatch of dark curls that covered her mound, brushing through them to find her slit.
When he touched her clit, she gave a moan and jerked, pushing back against him. His finger slid around the taut fleshy bud, teasing it before taking it between his fingers and pinching lightly. Bronwyn’s body stiffened, her slick little pussy clutching at his cock even as he rode her with determination.
His other hand reached down and played with one dangling breast, using his fingers on her nipple as if he were milking her, pulling and tweaking as he fucked her. Pulling out slowly, he took it slow only to slam back into her time and again until she was a mewling mass, growing as desperate as he.
“I-I’m going to spend,” she cried, hurrying his strokes by moving her hips against him.
“Yes,” he growled, feeling the first flutter of her sheath muscles around his cock, like tiny fingers trailing over him. She grunted her way through her storm of pleasure, meeting every thrust of his cock as if she couldn’t get enough.
“Come in me, my lord,” she growled breathlessly, shuddering in her climax. “Fuck my cunt and come in it, fill me with your spunk, my lord.”
Mall let his head fall back, a roar of completion upon his lips. He slammed into her hard, holding himself against her jiggling ass, jerking as he spurted inside of her. “You earthy bitch,” he growled, falling against her back and biting gently into her nape. “You gave me a wild ride and I thank you, wench.”
She nodded, falling to the bed with him a top of her. He could have stayed there and gone back to sleep now that his lust had been fulfilled but she quickly pushed him off of her. “I must be getting to my chores, my lord. Perhaps now you’ll be remembering my name?”
“Brenda, right?” he asked with a laugh, not moving as she swatted at him. “It’s Bronwyn, a pretty name for a fine and pretty lass.”
She stood next to the bed, fixing her blouse and tying it so that her plump little titties stayed covered. Smoothing down her skirt, she gave him a quick curtsey and a wink before turning to leave to go about her duties.
Mall stayed in bed, staring up at the bright red brocade that covered the top of the huge four-poster bed, the same material hanging from the sides and swagged back, the curtains allowing for privacy if such was desired.
Bronwyn was a pretty girl, fine, fiery and fun to be around. But she couldn’t come close to the bright blue eyes and dark curls of the Lady Veronica. He glanced at the windows, the thin oilcloth that covered them letting in the light of the new day. She’d have received her invitation now. Would she be eager to meet again with him as he was with her?