like you.”
“Despises us?” The glint in his eyes sharpened into a silver blue flame that licked at her through the pewter shadows. “She should be grateful for the order we bring to this country. This island was an uncivilized, lawless place before we came.”
She rolled over quickly, turning her back to him again before she might be tempted to curse.
“Sounds as if your handmaid, Derwyn, has a dangerous streak of rebellion in her heart.” He snaked an arm around her waist, settling back down into the pillows. “She thinks all Normans are here to do her harm. I shall spare the time to teach her differently.”
“How noble of you. I wouldn’t put yourself out. And it is Deorwynn for pity’s sake. Can you not pronounce it properly?”
His laughter blew gently through the veil against her hair. “Something troubles you wife,” he muttered. “Anything you wish to tell me?”
“No,” she snapped.
“Nothing you wish to confess?”
Deorwynn struggled with her emotions and now, too, with the horrifying thought that she’d given the game away, simply because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “No.”
“No?”
He could not possibly have realized the truth. Everyone knew men had only narrow attention spans. One woman was much the same to them as any other. “No. My lord .”
His big hand slid down over her stomach and between her legs. “Good. Then you will make the arrangements for my entertainment in bed. The sooner the better.”
“Deorwynn will not be willing.”
“I care not whether she is willing.” He squeezed her sex, rubbing his broad palm against her nether lips, his fingers tracing that sticky seed, where it trickled out of her. Then he clamped down again, his great, greedy bear paw enclosing her entire vulva. It felt as if he had locked her in a chastity belt made in the shape of his own hand. And she didn’t mind it. God help her, but she didn’t mind.
Breathless, she exclaimed, “She is not afraid to fight you.”
“I look forward to it,” he whispered, nuzzling her nape through the veil.
“She could stab you in the heart while you sleep.”
He laughed and she felt his strong, hard pulse throbbing in his wrist where it pressed on her mound. “But I don’t sleep when I have two women in my bed. There is no time if I mean to keep them both pleasured.”
Deorwynn lay stiff with anger. Perhaps she had said too much and given the game away with her habitual mouthiness. The nuns always said her tongue would get her in trouble one day, when she crossed the wrong man’s temper.
“I welcome her fiery spirit,” he added gruffly. “Not many women would dare challenge Guy Devaux, but these Saxons are primitive people. They fight for the sake of it and they know of no other way.”
This was sweet indeed coming from the lips of a heartless warrior known for his complete lack of mercy.
For a long time they lay like that. She almost became accustomed to his hand holding her intimately, one finger slipped between her swollen labia, locking his sperm inside.
* * * *
He fell asleep eventually, rolling over and sighing contentedly into his pillow, his great length stretched out beside her. Now freed of his flesh and bone chastity belt, she waited until he snored; then, creeping from the bed, she took the lone lit candle to the arrow slit and fluttered her hand across the flame three times. Hopefully Sybilia had not fallen asleep waiting in the barn across the yard.
After a moment of anxious watching, she saw a dark, hooded shape hurrying across the cobbles, skipping around a pile of drunken soldiers.
She’d only partially exhaled a relieved sigh when the rush of air stopped, trapped mid-way over her tongue.
Because she felt a touch on her shoulder.
She spun around, almost dropping the candle, her heart beat ceased. No, she’d imagined it.
Devaux still laid in the bed, his eyes closed, one foot and one arm dangling off the edge. Asleep, the Bear of Brittany looked
“Despises us?” The glint in his eyes sharpened into a silver blue flame that licked at her through the pewter shadows. “She should be grateful for the order we bring to this country. This island was an uncivilized, lawless place before we came.”
She rolled over quickly, turning her back to him again before she might be tempted to curse.
“Sounds as if your handmaid, Derwyn, has a dangerous streak of rebellion in her heart.” He snaked an arm around her waist, settling back down into the pillows. “She thinks all Normans are here to do her harm. I shall spare the time to teach her differently.”
“How noble of you. I wouldn’t put yourself out. And it is Deorwynn for pity’s sake. Can you not pronounce it properly?”
His laughter blew gently through the veil against her hair. “Something troubles you wife,” he muttered. “Anything you wish to tell me?”
“No,” she snapped.
“Nothing you wish to confess?”
Deorwynn struggled with her emotions and now, too, with the horrifying thought that she’d given the game away, simply because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “No.”
“No?”
He could not possibly have realized the truth. Everyone knew men had only narrow attention spans. One woman was much the same to them as any other. “No. My lord .”
His big hand slid down over her stomach and between her legs. “Good. Then you will make the arrangements for my entertainment in bed. The sooner the better.”
“Deorwynn will not be willing.”
“I care not whether she is willing.” He squeezed her sex, rubbing his broad palm against her nether lips, his fingers tracing that sticky seed, where it trickled out of her. Then he clamped down again, his great, greedy bear paw enclosing her entire vulva. It felt as if he had locked her in a chastity belt made in the shape of his own hand. And she didn’t mind it. God help her, but she didn’t mind.
Breathless, she exclaimed, “She is not afraid to fight you.”
“I look forward to it,” he whispered, nuzzling her nape through the veil.
“She could stab you in the heart while you sleep.”
He laughed and she felt his strong, hard pulse throbbing in his wrist where it pressed on her mound. “But I don’t sleep when I have two women in my bed. There is no time if I mean to keep them both pleasured.”
Deorwynn lay stiff with anger. Perhaps she had said too much and given the game away with her habitual mouthiness. The nuns always said her tongue would get her in trouble one day, when she crossed the wrong man’s temper.
“I welcome her fiery spirit,” he added gruffly. “Not many women would dare challenge Guy Devaux, but these Saxons are primitive people. They fight for the sake of it and they know of no other way.”
This was sweet indeed coming from the lips of a heartless warrior known for his complete lack of mercy.
For a long time they lay like that. She almost became accustomed to his hand holding her intimately, one finger slipped between her swollen labia, locking his sperm inside.
* * * *
He fell asleep eventually, rolling over and sighing contentedly into his pillow, his great length stretched out beside her. Now freed of his flesh and bone chastity belt, she waited until he snored; then, creeping from the bed, she took the lone lit candle to the arrow slit and fluttered her hand across the flame three times. Hopefully Sybilia had not fallen asleep waiting in the barn across the yard.
After a moment of anxious watching, she saw a dark, hooded shape hurrying across the cobbles, skipping around a pile of drunken soldiers.
She’d only partially exhaled a relieved sigh when the rush of air stopped, trapped mid-way over her tongue.
Because she felt a touch on her shoulder.
She spun around, almost dropping the candle, her heart beat ceased. No, she’d imagined it.
Devaux still laid in the bed, his eyes closed, one foot and one arm dangling off the edge. Asleep, the Bear of Brittany looked
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