by Ashe Barker
“Broken ankle, we think. He was tryin’ tae stop the horses from boltin’ an’ was caught by a flyin’ hoof.”
Robbie groaned. If the ankle really was fractured the man would need to make the rest of the journey home on the cart and it was one less sword at his disposal should they run into trouble again.
“Aye, well, it cannae be helped.” He looked about him. “We will stay here for a day or two, give both of ye a chance tae recover somewhat. We’re far enough from Stratford no’ to have tae worry about Warwick’s men.”
Archie nodded, then craned his neck to look past Robbie. “Where is Jane?”
“Still in the barn.”
“Ye left her?” Archie started to get up.
“She is wi’ Lady Falconer,” Robbie offered.
“Oh.” Archie clearly shared his doubts regarding the wisdom of that. “Is she... all right?”
“Aye. A bit weepy, an’ wi’ a very sore behind, I daresay.”
“She should no’ ha’ followed ye, I ken that. But, from what I have heard, she did well.”
“Aye, she did.” Robbie allowed himself a wry grin. “An’ she has the prettiest bottom I have seen in a while.”
“Did ye...?”
Robbie shook his head. “No. But I shall work on it, I believe. The lass has a low opinion of me right now, but she will come around.”
“You hope,” his friend observed. “Ye may have a long wait. I wonder, is there any ale left in that barrel?”
* * *
Robbie set aside the wooden bowl that had contained his share of the rabbit broth. The meal had been hearty and filling, though he had found himself sharing it with Cecily. The baby woke up just as he started to eat, and since there was no warmed milk to hand, and both Jane and Lady Falconer otherwise occupied, he sat the wee one on his lap and offered her pieces of bread soaked in gravy. She seemed content with the fare, and, her belly full, had developed a fascination for the laces on his leather tunic.
The door opened, and Lady Falconer entered, followed by what Robbie could only describe as a vision in red.
Holy fuck...
She looked... exquisite. He surmised the lavish gown had been the property of the countess, but he did not believe for a moment that it had looked even a fraction as fetching on her as it did on Jane. Crimson velvet, edged in white lace, the garment was ideal for riding. Practical as well as beautiful.
He smiled. It pleased him to see the girl so finely outfitted.
“Red suits ye, Jane,” he remarked, passing the baby to Archie. He beckoned her to join him beside the fire. “We saved some broth for ye.”
She flushed as she bent to sit, wincing slightly. “I should see to Cecily. She will be hungry.”
“She has been fed. Now ‘tis your turn.” He gestured to Peggy that she should serve a bowl to Jane. “Countess, have ye eaten?”
“I have, thank you. So now, if no one objects, I shall try to get some sleep. Shall I take Cecily?”
“There is no need, my lady,” Jane began. “I usually...”
“Please, allow me to become properly reacquainted with my granddaughter. It has been too long...”
“Of course. I am sorry.”
The countess patted Jane on the shoulder. “You, too, need your rest, child. Enjoy your supper. I shall see you in the morning.”
Archie appeared relieved to relinquish the baby. It occurred to Robbie that his friend would far rather face English soldiers and a dank dungeon than take responsibility for one small child.
“I shall seek my bed also,” Archie announced. “Most of the men are already sleeping. I have set Will to take first watch and Alec second.”
Robbie nodded. He would have taken a turn on watch himself but was glad of the respite since it meant he could devote his attention to the girl beside him.
“There is more broth, if you want it,” he offered.
She shook her head. “I have plenty.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, she finishing her meal and he gazing into the flickering flames. She set her bowl down and glanced about her. “Is there a place I should sleep?” she asked.
There was barely an inch of floor that remained unoccupied, and just a couple of spare blankets. Certainly, there was not enough room to stretch out near the fire.
“Come, we can find a corner over here.” Robbie offered her his hand and helped her to her feet. Her movements were awkward, her body obviously stiff and sore following his attentions earlier. He led her to a spot a few feet from the closest snoring Scotsman and threw a blanket on the earthen floor, followed by his cloak.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he invited. “I have another tartan on my horse. I shall fetch it since I think it will be a chilly night once the fire dies.”
“I could not take your tartan. You will have need of it.”
He quirked his lip. “I didnae mean tae let ye have it. I mean tae share it with ye.”
“But—”
“I shall no’ be long.” He gave her no further opportunity to take issue with his plans.
A few minutes later, he returned, the tartan slung across his shoulder. Jane lay just where he had left her, on her side, facing away from him, the cloak tucked up under her chin. Robbie laid his sword close by, then settled on the blanket beside her.
He reached for her lush backside. “Ye must be very sore, lass.”
“Lady Falconer gave me some salve. It... it helped. Somewhat.”
“I see.” He caressed her swollen rump. “May I ask, d’ye still hate me, Jane?”
“Hate you?”
“Aye. ‘Twas what ye said. Ye also swore tae never forgive me.”
“I do not hate you, Robbie. I should not have said that.”
“And what of forgiveness?”
“You said you did not seek my forgiveness, just my obedience.”
“I would like both, I think.” He continued to stroke her bottom, his palm tracing large, lazy circles over her soft flesh.
“I should not have said that either,” she acknowledged. “It is I who should seek your forgiveness. I endangered you...”
“It is done. Over.”
“But—”
“You did wrong, you were punished. I forgave you back there, in the barn.”
“Oh. I... I did not realise. You are not still angry, then?”
“No, I am not.”
“I want things to be right between us. I... I hate it when we are at odds.”
He chuckled. “Ye could ha’ fooled me, lass, since ye have a tongue sharp enough tae slice rocks.”
“I am sorry. I wish I was more... docile. My mother always said I should learn some humility...or at least look as though I had.”
“She sounds like a practical sort. Speaking of which, ye will need tae come a good bit closer if ye dinnae wish tae feel the chill this night. Roll over tae face me, Jane.”
“Why?” She scooted nearer to him. “You can keep me warm like this.”
“Aye, but I cannae kiss ye. Or at least, not in quite the way I would prefer.” He lifted the heavy fall of her hair to reveal her shoulder and placed a soft kiss there.
“Robbie!” She twisted her neck to look at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
He caught her chin in his hand and brushed his lips over hers. “I am showin’ ye what forgiveness looks like.”
“I—”
He rolled onto his back. “If ye forgive me, Janie, will ye no’ show me that?”
“You want me to kiss you?”
“I wouldnae fight ye off.” He grinned at her. “‘Tis all right. I have promised no’ tae fuck ye unless ye ask me tae.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are very... direct.”
“Does it bother ye?”
She took her time before replying. “Not as much as it used to do.”
“Ah. So, there is cause tae hope ye may ask me then?”
Her mouth quivered and he was quite sure she was trying not to smile. “I...
I shall kiss you. No more than that.”
“Then Janie, I am all yours.”
Her lips were soft, tentative. She was stiff at first, holding herself apart from him, their mouths the only parts touching. He itched to reach for her, to wrap his arms about her and roll her under him, but it would be too soon. Too much. He contented himself by trailing his fingers through her wild mane of ebony-hued hair.
She became bolder, placing her hands on either side of his jaw and resting her upper body on his chest. The swell of her breasts was just discernible as she deepened the kiss.
Robbie’s cock hardened within his trousers. Sweet Christ, but she is delightful... He shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable. It would not do to startle her now.
He ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of her lips.
Jane broke the kiss. “What... what are you doing?”
“I want to taste ye, lass.”
“Taste me?”
“Aye. Like this.” He stretched up to kiss her again. This time when he tried her with his tongue, she opened to him. He swept inside, tangling his tongue around hers, then swirling behind her teeth and at the back of her lips.
Jane gave a little gasp but did not pull away.
“That was... a little odd,” she murmured when he released her mouth.
“You taste wonderful,” he replied.
“As do you, Robbie.” She drew her tongue over her own lips. “I wonder if, perhaps, we should try that once more, to be certain.”
He nodded. “We should.”
This time, the kiss was playful, still, but with a growing intimacy. Jane ventured to thrust her tongue between his lips, mimicking what he had done to her, exploring and tasting, then sucking his tongue into her mouth, wrapping herself around him in a sensuous dance.
He shifted, and the unmistakable bulge of his cock pressed against her thigh. She paused.
“Oh. Did I...? I mean...?”
“Aye, ye did.”
“I have never...” She rested on one elbow. “May I touch it?”
“Of course.”
“This does not mean that I... I am not asking you to... you know.”
“No, I ken that. But we could agree a fair exchange.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Ye may make free wi’ my cock. I shall even open my trousers tae ease the way for ye. In return, ye will loosen that pretty red bodice.”
“You wish to ‘make free’ with my breasts?”
Hell, yes.
“I do, aye.”
She took a moment or two to consider, then, “I think no harm will come of that.”
Chapter Ten
What am I thinking? Less than an hour ago he made me lean over the back of the cart and he took his belt to my backside.
Jane could barely credit that this was the same man. This gentle, humorous lover could not be the same stern disciplinarian who had beaten and humiliated her, reduced her to helpless, gulping tears. He had hurt her, intimidated her, yet now, she craved his touch as much as she desired her next breath.
He had asked her to bare her breasts for him, not because he instructed it, or even because it would mean her clothes could be washed, or she might take a bath, but for the simple reason that he wanted her to. He wanted to see her, to touch her.
And she wanted that too.
“Someone might see,” she whispered, genuinely regretful that they were not alone.
“We have the blanket. And I promise not to be unduly noisy, if ye will do the same.”
His fingers were at the row of buttons that ran down the back of the gown. Lady Falconer had assisted her in fastening them, but Jane fancied she would need Robbie to help her the next time.
The garment loosened, and the front fell slack to reveal the pretty shift beneath.
“Please, do not tear my clothes. I... I have never had anything so nice.”
“I shall no’, I swear it.” He eased the gown from her shoulders, taking the shift with it. Soon one pale breast was revealed, then the next. “Beautiful,” he breathed.
“I... oh!” Jane let out a startled gasp when he took her nipple between his fingers and tugged.
“Sshh, we agreed that ye would remain quiet,” he reminded her.
“I am sorry. I just...”
He eased her gently onto her back. Her punished bottom throbbed, but Jane cared not for that inconvenience at all. He laid his mouth over hers as though he could actually swallow the sounds she made. Perhaps he could.
He squeezed and pulled on her stiffening nipples, first one, then the other.
Pleasure and pain mingled. She could not separate one from the other, nor did she want to. Jane arched her back, pressing her breasts into his hands.
His touch gentled again. He cupped her right breast in his large hand and broke the kiss. “I am trustin’ ye tae be silent, Janie. Can ye do that?”
She nodded, determined not to disappoint him.
He lowered his head again, this time to take her nipple between his teeth.
He would not bite her, surely...
He did not. Instead, he grazed his teeth across the sensitive nub then took it fully into his mouth and sucked.
Oh, Blessed Mary!
Shards of lightning tingled through her body, carving a direct path from her nipple to that most secret spot between her legs. Jane had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out.
He shifted, took the other breast in his hand, and repeated the action. The waves of pleasure intensified, threatening to overwhelm her.
He released her pebbled bud and met her gaze. “So sensitive. I should ha’ known.”
“Must you stop quite yet?” Too late, Jane clamped her mouth tight shut, but the wanton words had already escaped. “Oh, I am so sorry. I never meant... You must truly think me a harlot now. A slut, even...”
His lip curled in a sensual smile. “I have nae quarrel with ye bein’ a harlot, Janie, or a slut, as long at ye’re my harlot an’ my slut. I shall thank ye not tae go showin’ any o’ this fineness tae any other man in the future.”
“I would never normally... I just thought...”
“Aye, well, from now on, ye’re mine.” His tone lowered to something akin to a growl.
Tendrils of desire unfurled deep at Jane’s core. Mine. He said ‘mine.’
She did not entirely understand why that word pleased her so, but it did.
“Ye want more, eh?”
She nodded. “Yes, I think I do.”
“Then ye shall have it.”
His mouth clamped around her nipple once more and he took her other bud between his finger and thumb. He was both gentle and cruel, pinching, caressing, squeezing, sucking, drawing every last shred of response from her reeling senses. She was caught in a flood of passion, of unaccustomed sensations she could not name, of hot waves of pleasure that threatened to sweep her away.
She grabbed a fistful of the blanket and stuffed it between her teeth, on the one hand scared that her breathless moans would alert their companions and on the other rather past caring. But she had promised, and Robbie expected her to keep her promises.
What is happening? Her body seemed to be no longer her own. Could this be lust? She had heard mention of such a thing, listened to the giggles and whispers among the serving wenches at Ashingburn Manor, but had never experienced anything of the like herself. Until now.
If this truly was lust, then she wanted more of it. Perhaps the men at the garrison had been right, perhaps she was a slut. But none of what was happening seemed wrong, exactly. Unusual, unaccustomed, distinctly unexpected. But not wrong.
The sensations built again, more intense, more demanding. Jane imagined she was reaching for something, some elusive prize. Stretching, searching, driven onward.
She was scared. This could not be right, surely.
“Let it go, pet. I have ye...”
Robbie’s soft urging was all she needed. She arched sharply, opened her mouth in a soundless scream.
She was flying, swept up and away on a crest of bright light, swirling, spinning, then slowly, gently, drifting back down to the ground.
Her senses settled. The clenching in her core slowed, then ceased. She lay still, secure in the circle of Robbie McGregor’s arms.
Cautiously, she prised her eyelids apart. The flickering glow of the dying fire still illuminated the stable. The sounds of breathing, the snores and snuffles of their companions filtered back as she became aware of where she was, and what had just happened to her.
“Oh,” she murmured. “My goodness.”
* * *
When Jane woke up, she was alone within the nest of blankets, cloaks, and tartan.
Around her, the sounds of morning could be heard. Footsteps, low voices, the splash of water, the clatter of a bucket as someone dragged it across the floor.
Above it all, Cecily’s hungry whimper reached her, and Jane knew she must leave her cosy cocoon.
She made to sit up, then realised that the bodice of her gown was gaping open. The events of the previous night came rushing back. She clapped her hand across her mouth in mortification.
Surely, she had not...
But she knew full well that she had. She had been sufficiently wanton that she had allowed Robbie McGregor to touch her, kiss her, caress her, suckle and squeeze her until she... what? What had she done? What had happened to her?
“Did ye sleep well, Miss Bartle?”
The countess picked her way across the stable, Cecily balancing upon her hip.
“Yes, yes I did, thank you.” Well, that much at least was true. She had slept like a baby herself. “Would you like me to attend to Cecily?”
“If you would, my dear. I can manage the feeding, but I fear I shall require more practice with the other things. She is rather damp, and... smelly.”
“Of course.” Jane held her loose bodice against her chest. “I shall just need to—”
“Ah, I see. Please, allow me...” Lady Falconer set the baby down on the blanket beside Jane, then knelt behind her to refasten the tiny buttons. “As soon as Cecily is presentable once more, and when you have broken your fast, naturally, I thought that we three might spend the day checking our supplies. I gather we are not to resume our journey immediately so we may as well be occupied.”
