more violent future awaited him across the channel. Though William had been acclaimed king at Westminster the year before, there were rumours of a rebel upstart in Kent…which meant that William needed to call back all his best soldiers.
And that described Eustache de Fiennes perfectly.
He sighed and turned back toward camp. His tent was pitched, and meat had been spit and was roasting over a fire. As he strode toward his tent, he caught sight of his young groom rubbing down Bayard. The boy was young, but came with his brother’s enthusiastic recommendation. And though Eustache had not yet taken the time to speak to him, there was no denying the lad’s skill with horses. Bayard had been temperamental and edgy with all his other grooms but seemed to accept the slip of a boy immediately. Eustache wondered if the boy would survive the war camps; he was so slight that he was almost feminine. He wandered closer, his eyes quickly inspecting the boy’s work.
But when he was a few lengths away, he stopped abruptly and stared open-mouthed. The boy was humming a soft tune as he brushed Bayard.
I know that tune.
And his strokes were long, even and graceful.
I know that rhythm.
Eustache crossed the distance between them in two long strides. He grabbed the boy’s shoulder and spun him around, pushing him back into the horse’s flank. The young groom had deep blue eyes and thick dark hair that was cropped short. He had a long, graceful neck, thin shoulders and a slim waist. He stared back up at Eustache, eyes wide and unguarded.
“You,” Eustache exclaimed.
The boy— no, the woman —smiled, a mischievous tilt to her lips.
“Yes.” The voice was melodic and sweet and achingly familiar. “It’s me.”
Eustache took her by the shoulders and bent forward, his expression helpless.
“Why?” he asked, nearly speechless with shock. “Why did you do this, Giselle?”
“Gerard,” she quipped, lightly patting his cheek. “It’s Gerard right now. I am your groom.”
He shook her lightly.
“You little idiot,” he growled affectionately. “Do you even know where you are going?”
“Yes,” she said confidently. “I am going with you .”
“This is madness,” he said, even as his arm was snaking around her waist. “Madness. What were you thinking?”
“My parents are provided for, and there is nothing left for me at the manor,” she moaned between hot, open-mouthed kisses.
“And you thought I would just take you with me?” he asked between a snarl and a groan, his hand reaching to pull one of her legs over his hip.
“Is there a groom better than me?”
Eustache stepped back and glowered down in mock anger.
“No, you are most definitely the most skilled of any groom there is,” he conceded. “But I would have words with you in my tent—away from prying eyes.”
Giselle grinned up at him teasingly.
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone,” he said. “Where your real name will be on my lips, and we shall see if your skill extends to pleasuring a man.”
She smiled, her bright blue eyes never leaving his. In that moment, Eustache knew he had been conquered, and he yielded willingly to her sweet seduction. He smiled back. Giselle bowed her head in a light curtsey and laughed joyously.
“Oui, mon seigneur.”
* * * * *
About the Author
Linda is a travel addict and a self-proclaimed food critic with an insatiable appetite for the written word. She first developed her love for reading and writing by browsing her grandfather’s dictionaries and etymology books—a habit she has yet to abandon!
Born to Filipino parents in the United States and raised in Canada, Linda is a modern-day nomad, moving across country and ocean with her military husband. She currently lives in the United Kingdom and spends her free time writing, practicing digital photography, updating her food blog and dreaming of adventures at home and abroad. She has travelled throughout North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.
Linda holds a
And that described Eustache de Fiennes perfectly.
He sighed and turned back toward camp. His tent was pitched, and meat had been spit and was roasting over a fire. As he strode toward his tent, he caught sight of his young groom rubbing down Bayard. The boy was young, but came with his brother’s enthusiastic recommendation. And though Eustache had not yet taken the time to speak to him, there was no denying the lad’s skill with horses. Bayard had been temperamental and edgy with all his other grooms but seemed to accept the slip of a boy immediately. Eustache wondered if the boy would survive the war camps; he was so slight that he was almost feminine. He wandered closer, his eyes quickly inspecting the boy’s work.
But when he was a few lengths away, he stopped abruptly and stared open-mouthed. The boy was humming a soft tune as he brushed Bayard.
I know that tune.
And his strokes were long, even and graceful.
I know that rhythm.
Eustache crossed the distance between them in two long strides. He grabbed the boy’s shoulder and spun him around, pushing him back into the horse’s flank. The young groom had deep blue eyes and thick dark hair that was cropped short. He had a long, graceful neck, thin shoulders and a slim waist. He stared back up at Eustache, eyes wide and unguarded.
“You,” Eustache exclaimed.
The boy— no, the woman —smiled, a mischievous tilt to her lips.
“Yes.” The voice was melodic and sweet and achingly familiar. “It’s me.”
Eustache took her by the shoulders and bent forward, his expression helpless.
“Why?” he asked, nearly speechless with shock. “Why did you do this, Giselle?”
“Gerard,” she quipped, lightly patting his cheek. “It’s Gerard right now. I am your groom.”
He shook her lightly.
“You little idiot,” he growled affectionately. “Do you even know where you are going?”
“Yes,” she said confidently. “I am going with you .”
“This is madness,” he said, even as his arm was snaking around her waist. “Madness. What were you thinking?”
“My parents are provided for, and there is nothing left for me at the manor,” she moaned between hot, open-mouthed kisses.
“And you thought I would just take you with me?” he asked between a snarl and a groan, his hand reaching to pull one of her legs over his hip.
“Is there a groom better than me?”
Eustache stepped back and glowered down in mock anger.
“No, you are most definitely the most skilled of any groom there is,” he conceded. “But I would have words with you in my tent—away from prying eyes.”
Giselle grinned up at him teasingly.
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone,” he said. “Where your real name will be on my lips, and we shall see if your skill extends to pleasuring a man.”
She smiled, her bright blue eyes never leaving his. In that moment, Eustache knew he had been conquered, and he yielded willingly to her sweet seduction. He smiled back. Giselle bowed her head in a light curtsey and laughed joyously.
“Oui, mon seigneur.”
* * * * *
About the Author
Linda is a travel addict and a self-proclaimed food critic with an insatiable appetite for the written word. She first developed her love for reading and writing by browsing her grandfather’s dictionaries and etymology books—a habit she has yet to abandon!
Born to Filipino parents in the United States and raised in Canada, Linda is a modern-day nomad, moving across country and ocean with her military husband. She currently lives in the United Kingdom and spends her free time writing, practicing digital photography, updating her food blog and dreaming of adventures at home and abroad. She has travelled throughout North America, Europe, Asia and Africa.
Linda holds a
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