And it seems you are comfortable with referring to her with such familiarity. Perhaps she would allow me to call her by her name as well! And of course, I would have no aversion to hearing her speak my own…loudly." His smile was wolf-like.
"I have had enough of you, whelp. Now begone while I am still in such a mood as to say it in a good-natured manner."
"As you wish.” Jean-Paul turned on his heel and marched away whistling a merry tune as he walked and Dominic knew he was far from finished with keeping him away from the woman. And that was only the beginning of it. The others would be tormenting him soon enough as well.
He headed over to a small fire that burned close by where some fresh stew was simmering, grabbing two bowls and ladling some of the thick, meaty stew into them. He was about to snatch up two spoons when a feminine hand reached forth, holding them out to him.
It was Fala. Would the torture never cease? He was tired. He was hungry. He was kicking himself in his own derriere right now for bringing the English witch to camp. He'd known she would bring him trouble from the moment he laid eyes on her. He rolled his eyes and groaned audibly.
"Nico, you look troubled love. I can ease your mind and other parts as well if you come to me this night." She smiled seductively and ran two long fingernails down his muscular shoulder and arm.
"Fala, I am too weary. I have not slept well for two nights. I have many duties to look after and a sick woman to tend to who will bring us much gold if we can find her people. I would rather wait until some other night to come to you," he said flatly.
Fala eyed him warily. He could tell she didn't believe a word he was saying. Ah, but the jealous witches were all alike, no matter if they be English, Celtic, Persian or Romany.
Fala handed him the spoons and moved away and he could see the look of resentment in her eyes. Christ, she thought she owned him. Of course she didn't seem to mind sharing her attentions when it was her sister Shaia who was helping her to ‘ease his troubled mind.’
He smiled at the memory of the two of them with their lush curves and skilled hands. But now, when she sensed there might be competition from an outsider, she simmered like a pot of oil. The kind they poured down on one's head from the turrets during the raiding of a castle.
Well...he'd dodged a few of those in his day, in truth. He supposed that he could dodge any of Fala's caustic remarks that would come. And of course, Shaia would be happy to join in nagging him when her sister informed her of his lack of interest this night. He would have chuckled to himself, had the situation of finding the woman's family been any less than serious.
For now, his thoughts were only of getting back to the comfort of his wagon, feeding the woman and finding out who in God's name were her family so he could send one of his men out to locate them and offer her to them for gold.
He cursed himself silently as he tripped on a rock walking back to the wagon, but his expression immediately softened when he parted the canvas and saw Sarah standing there with her back facing him, completely unaware of his presence.
She was facing the front of the wagon and was bent over straightening the rumpled pallet on the floor. The crisp white shirt she wore was long, but not long enough giving him the most delectable and unrestricted view of her saucy derriere. By the Gods in Heaven, she was enough to steal a man's senses away! And that shirt - his shirt - looked most fetching on her. He hadn't quite noticed before when he first saw her in it, but now the thought of her wearing something that belonged to him heated the blood in his veins.
She stretched forward with a graceful motion. Her legs were long and silky and that behind of hers was tight and smooth. He sucked in an audible breath, almost dropping the bowls that he carried as the image of running his hands and lips down the soft flesh of those legs flashed
"I have had enough of you, whelp. Now begone while I am still in such a mood as to say it in a good-natured manner."
"As you wish.” Jean-Paul turned on his heel and marched away whistling a merry tune as he walked and Dominic knew he was far from finished with keeping him away from the woman. And that was only the beginning of it. The others would be tormenting him soon enough as well.
He headed over to a small fire that burned close by where some fresh stew was simmering, grabbing two bowls and ladling some of the thick, meaty stew into them. He was about to snatch up two spoons when a feminine hand reached forth, holding them out to him.
It was Fala. Would the torture never cease? He was tired. He was hungry. He was kicking himself in his own derriere right now for bringing the English witch to camp. He'd known she would bring him trouble from the moment he laid eyes on her. He rolled his eyes and groaned audibly.
"Nico, you look troubled love. I can ease your mind and other parts as well if you come to me this night." She smiled seductively and ran two long fingernails down his muscular shoulder and arm.
"Fala, I am too weary. I have not slept well for two nights. I have many duties to look after and a sick woman to tend to who will bring us much gold if we can find her people. I would rather wait until some other night to come to you," he said flatly.
Fala eyed him warily. He could tell she didn't believe a word he was saying. Ah, but the jealous witches were all alike, no matter if they be English, Celtic, Persian or Romany.
Fala handed him the spoons and moved away and he could see the look of resentment in her eyes. Christ, she thought she owned him. Of course she didn't seem to mind sharing her attentions when it was her sister Shaia who was helping her to ‘ease his troubled mind.’
He smiled at the memory of the two of them with their lush curves and skilled hands. But now, when she sensed there might be competition from an outsider, she simmered like a pot of oil. The kind they poured down on one's head from the turrets during the raiding of a castle.
Well...he'd dodged a few of those in his day, in truth. He supposed that he could dodge any of Fala's caustic remarks that would come. And of course, Shaia would be happy to join in nagging him when her sister informed her of his lack of interest this night. He would have chuckled to himself, had the situation of finding the woman's family been any less than serious.
For now, his thoughts were only of getting back to the comfort of his wagon, feeding the woman and finding out who in God's name were her family so he could send one of his men out to locate them and offer her to them for gold.
He cursed himself silently as he tripped on a rock walking back to the wagon, but his expression immediately softened when he parted the canvas and saw Sarah standing there with her back facing him, completely unaware of his presence.
She was facing the front of the wagon and was bent over straightening the rumpled pallet on the floor. The crisp white shirt she wore was long, but not long enough giving him the most delectable and unrestricted view of her saucy derriere. By the Gods in Heaven, she was enough to steal a man's senses away! And that shirt - his shirt - looked most fetching on her. He hadn't quite noticed before when he first saw her in it, but now the thought of her wearing something that belonged to him heated the blood in his veins.
She stretched forward with a graceful motion. Her legs were long and silky and that behind of hers was tight and smooth. He sucked in an audible breath, almost dropping the bowls that he carried as the image of running his hands and lips down the soft flesh of those legs flashed
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