by Ashe Barker
Once the initial surprise has passed, I have to accept that the sensation is quite sublime, exquisite. It is intimate and demanding, a total possession of my body. I groan and reach for Ralf, then loop my hands behind his neck and just hang on.
Fingers are again on my clit, caressing me slowly, then more firmly. I am not sure but think it may be Piers this time, teasing my response from me. Every tingle and shiver is heightened, my body sensitised almost beyond endurance. I am boneless, helpless, splayed for their pleasure and mine.
Their movements quicken, the rhythm building to a rapid tempo though neither one misses their stroke. They are timed to perfection and in moments I am again hurtling toward climax.
“Sir, I cannot help it,” I wail, uncertain if I have their permission or not. It is of no consequence. I can no more prevent this than I could snatch the moon from the heavens and serve it up for our noon meal.
“Let it go, little wench. Do not hold back.”
Ralf’s encouragement is all that is required to send me hurtling into another mindless spiral of delight. My senses shatter. I let out a scream of pleasure followed by a moan of something which is not quite pain as they shift their rhythm and both enter me at once. They hold still, their cocks twitching and leaping inside me. There are oaths, curses, guttural sounds as both men follow me into oblivion.
* * *
We lie in our bed, limbs tangled. I am tucked up against Ralf, snuggling into his solid warmth as Piers curls around me from behind.
“So, sweet slut, have you survived, do you think?” Piers reaches around me to cup my breast. He toys with my nipple as I contemplate my response to his question.
“I believe I have, my lord.”
“Good, for I believe we would wish to make something of a habit of taking you together. Perhaps your luscious mouth next time…”
“Excellent notion,” agrees Ralf. “I will fuck her arse, brother, whilst she sucks your cock. How would that be, do you think, Linnet?”
“I think marriage to two such lusty men is turning out to be quite hard work, my lords. I am not sure I will be able to find the stamina to keep you both satisfied.”
Both seem to find my reply amusing, though Piers squeezes my nipple hard by way of a warning to behave and to keep a respectful tongue in my head. “If you cannot find the strength, little maid, then we will have to find it for you. Perhaps a spanking from time to time will help you to remember your duty. Better yet, the marks of a strap across your beautiful arse will make it so much more fuckable.”
“If you consider that necessary, sir, I will be pleased to bear those stripes. Be assured though, I do not consider what happens in our bedchamber to be a duty so much as a privilege.”
“Ah, Linnet, you learn so well. I fear I am tempted to search out my belt at once.”
“Tomorrow will be soon enough, brother. For now we should let the lass sleep.”
Piers rolls my pebbled nipple in his fingers. “Then, I fear we must wait a week or two longer for our treat since on the morrow we leave for Cleater Moor.”
“Cleater Moor?” I wriggle over onto my back. “Where is Cleater Moor? What business takes you there? You did not say you intend to leave.”
“It is perhaps ten to fifteen miles north of here, on the border of our estates. We are several more miles from the Scottish border but still we are plagued by reivers travelling south in search of rich pickings. Our serfs at Cleater and beyond report several attacks now, and we must subdue these bandits before they grow yet more bold.” Ralf turns to caress my cheek. “We shall not be away long, a week perhaps, two at the most.”
“I see… but must you both go? Should not one of you remain behind to see Egremont safe?”
“In the past we might have done that but we now have you, sweet wife, so we need not spread ourselves so thinly.”
“Me? I do not understand.” I look from one to the other, searching their features in the glimmering candlelight. “I cannot command a garrison.”
“Of course you can, little one. As countess of Egremont you are in command here in the lord’s absence whether you would so choose it or not. If Piers were to remain, then, yes, he would assume command. But it is better that we both go and deal once and for all with these belligerent Scots whilst you remain safe here within these walls. We will leave a small contingent of men at arms to defend the castle should it be needed. You will keep the drawbridge closed, and maintain a constant vigil on the battlements until we return. We do not anticipate any attack, though you would do well to be cautious. Do not open our portal to any but ourselves and ensure that everyone remains within the castle walls.”
“But what about the villagers? They come and go all the time.”
“There is a small gate at the eastern end of the bailey which can be easily guarded. Our people know to use that entrance in urgent circumstances.”
“I see… but I do not want you to leave.” Even as I mutter the words, I know I am being both unreasonable and unrealistic. Egremont is a peaceful place but my men are warlords even so and will frequently be embroiled in skirmishes both local and farther afield. It is right that I should do my part by ensuring the security of our home and our household.
“Then you will anticipate our return with an eagerness which borders on the unseemly, no doubt. You will keep our hearth safe and our bed warm and be ready to present that sweet arse for a decent fucking the moment our troop appears over the horizon.” Piers’ words are crude but his assessment of the situation is fair enough, especially the part about how I will behave on their return. What a strumpet I have become! Still, it will be an anxious couple of weeks for me.
Chapter Thirteen
My men have been gone seven nights subduing the vicious band of raiders from the Scottish lowlands who have laid waste to several farmsteads a few miles to the north of our keep. I am not fearful for Ralf and Piers’ safety, not really. The Egremont force outmatches by far the unruly rabble they are seeking to run to earth but I will rest easier in my bed once I see their handsome, beloved faces once more.
That same bed is a lonely place while they are not here. The chamber we use is ostensibly that designated for the earl but as Piers’ apartments adjoin ours, there has been no problem in spending most nights together in the months since our wedding. I usually sleep pressed between them, their warmth and protection a heady balm as an unseasonably cold autumn chill grips this northern landscape. It will soon be Michaelmas, and I pray my men will be returned in time to join in the coming feast.
“My lady, do we go out seeking mistletoe this morn?” Joan calls to me as she straightens the bolster and blankets on my bed, her words muffled beneath a flurry of goose-down and bedlinen. “There is a decent crop of it to be found in the copse beyond the lower meadow.”
“I am not sure the earl will look kindly upon such pagan practises,” I reply. In truth, I harbour doubts myself, and would not wish to stretch the patience of the almighty any further than we must, given what I still consider to be the somewhat precarious status of our domestic arrangements.
“Oh, ye need have no concerns on that score, my lady. We always deck the great hall, with holly, too, and ivy, if we can find some. It is just merrymaking and cheers the household up through these dark months of winter. If we are to fetch mistletoe we should go soon though, as the light will not last long.”
“I am sorry but I fear we cannot. The earl and Sir Piers were quite clear in their instructions that no one is to leave the castle until they return. The drawbridge will not be lowered until then. The mistletoe gathering must wait.”
Joan shakes her head in exasperation. “But it is quite safe. It is a clear day and we will be able to see any attackers from miles away. The guards will sound the alarm and we shall hurry back into the safety of the keep.” She pauses, her expression both earnest and hopeful. “We always make much of this feast since it is usually the last chance for merrymaking before the weather closes in.”
“I do not think…”
“My lady, we can take a few guards with us if you deem it needful. Please, the excursion will take no more than a couple of hours.”
I gaze at her, wavering. Perhaps a short outing just beyond the boundary walls will do no harm. Indeed, I am sure it will not for the surrounding moorlands are quite empty as far as the eye can see. Egremont is located on the highest point for many miles around, perfectly positioned to gain plenty of advance warning of any armed assault. There will be no sneak attack. On reflection, I cannot imagine that Ralf and Piers actually meant to forbid such an innocent pastime. I make up my mind. “Very well, since it is a family tradition. We must hurry though and be back well before nightfall. We will require the warmest cloaks and stout boots.”
“Indeed we will, my lady. I will find what we require as soon as I have finished here.”
Joan is as good as her word, and within the half hour we are striding through the narrow postern gate leading from the keep and across the sloping meadow which skirts Egremont village. As well as myself and Joan, we have Agnes with us and several men at arms selected from those left behind to guard the castle. The procession down to the copse is a merry one with much laughing and jostling as we make our way across the frosty earth.
Although I spent several years here as child, I had forgotten how suddenly the summer is gone or how beautiful the autumn landscape. I gaze across the bleak moorland at a clump of skeletal trees silhouetted against the distant horizon. The sun is low, the sky already darkening though it is still but mid-afternoon. We quicken our steps to reach the spot where our search will be most fruitful.
Joan was right, we find an abundance of the vibrant green plants here, dangling from the trees in large bunches. We collect as much as we need and supplement our gathering with sprigs of holly. The hall will indeed be festive for Michaelmas. We pile our crop into large baskets and start the trek back to the castle. The foray has been uneventful.
The castle was constructed in the last century and dominates the surrounding landscape, so the return journey is uphill. It is hard work as the ground underfoot is slippery from the thick layer of dampness which seems to cover everything these last few weeks. I tug my warm sheepskin cloak around myself and press on.
One moment I am marching up the grassy slope surrounded by our servants and men at arms and the next, my booted feet disappear from under me and I am tumbling to the frigid ground in an untidy heap. Pain sears my ankle as my foot is wrenched in my fall. I lie still, shaking from the shock and the piercing ache in my injured limb.
At once I am surrounded by chaos. People are shouting, Joan is barking out orders to the guards, demanding that they help me up at once.
“No, no, I will be fine. I can shift for myself.” I attempt to clamber to my feet but abandon the endeavour instantly. My ankle is in agony. I fear it might be broken. I have no choice but to accept the help of two soldiers who make a seat of their hands and carry me the remainder of the distance. I am sobbing with the pain by the time they deposit me on the edge of my bed in the earl’s chamber.
Agnes and Joan crouch on the floor and take care as they ease my boot from my foot. My limb is already hideously swollen and starting to turn an ugly shade of purple. The bruising has already bloomed to paint a vivid band around my heel and ankle and even the most tentative attempt to bear weight on it sends a shooting pain up my leg.
“Lie down, my lady. I will make a cold compress which will ease it.” Agnes is at once bustling off in search of the necessary provisions.
“Is it broken? It hurts so, it must be fractured.” I am trying not to cry but it is not easy and I am fast losing the battle.
Joan shrugs but looks dubious. “I do not know. You must rest it. Do not even think about leaving that bed. Even a broken ankle can heal without leaving much in the way of a permanent limp if you do not disturb the arrangement of the bones. I know this, for my cousin fell and fractured her lower leg when she was a girl and she walks quite well now.”
I sob yet more at the realisation I may be hobbling around forever. Why did I ever let Joan convince me to go on that ridiculous excursion?
The next three days see me confined to my bed. My ankle throbs incessantly and I have no desire to exacerbate my injury by attempting to become more mobile. By the fourth day I am beginning to believe the pain might be subsiding, a good sign surely since all around me assure me that a true fracture would show no improvement for weeks. The next day the discomfort has reduced still more to just a dull ache and I am now convinced I have simply suffered a sprain. The bruising is as fearsome as ever, darkening more each day and now encompassing my entire foot but the swelling has gone down. I am still unable to walk on it but at least I am confident it will heal in time.
Two more days pass and I am at last managing to leave the confines of my bed, with the help of Agnes on one side and Joan on the other. I loop my arms around their shoulders and thus assisted, I am able to use the privy.
The four walls of my bedchamber are beginning to close in on me and I long for more varied surroundings. When the time for our noon meal approaches I manage to persuade the pair of them to assist me as far as the stairs, whereupon Audric Atkins, the acting captain of our guard, lifts me in his arms and carries me down to the great hall.
The space has been decked in the holly, mistletoe, and some ivy which has been gathered from somewhere and our hall does indeed look every bit a festive as Joan predicted. Sir Ralf and Sir Piers are expected home any day, so the mood is cheerful. I anticipate my men will have something to say about my foolish decision to allow the foraging for mistletoe but even so I cannot contain my excitement.
The meal is hearty. I enjoy Mrs. Murching’s roast hog and her delicious bread pudding and I even manage a few mouthfuls of her apple dumplings. I do not consider them to be a patch on those my grandmother used to make but I will accept that perhaps I am somewhat partisan. It is with a much more optimistic heart that I accept the captain’s kind offer of assistance once more and return to my chamber to sleep.
Apart from the return of my men, I am beginning to suspect I may have something else to look forward to. My courses are late. I had at first attributed this to my injury but no longer. My breasts are tender and despite having spent the last several days in bed I still feel inordinately fatigued. Although I lack personal experience, I have listened in on enough chatter around the kitchens of Wellesworth. I know what these signs mean. It is but early days yet. Even so, I cannot wait to share my good news with my lords.
“My lady, wake up. Their lordships are returning.”
“What? They are here already?” I sit bolt upright in my bed, ignoring the jabbing pain in my ankle as I move too fast. I grab at Joan’s wrist and she straightens my pillow. “I must get dressed…”
“Nay, my lady, they will be several hours yet. They were sighted coming through the eastern pass at first light but ‘twill take them till near enough noon to reach Egremont.”
“Oh.” I quell my disappointment. “But I may observe their progress even so. You must help me to dress, then assist me in reaching the battlements. I will be able to see their party from there.”
With Joan’s help and that of the good captain, I am soon ensconced on the walkway at the top of the turreted tower which guards our eastern wall. A narrow ledge is carved into the stonework, intended to accommodate archers as they set their bows to repel invaders. This day it serves as my seat and the shelf is even wide enough to prop my injured ankle up in front of me. Swathed in furs to keep out the dampness and chill, I can wait in relative comfort as I watch the troop of men make their cautious way along the moorland trail leading to our gate.
Two hours pass and they are easily visible now. I can pick out the individual soldiers, my own blond heroes as well as the rest of the men at arms. I see William, the burly swordsman who has seemingly caught Joan’s eye and Ilbert, the grumpy master of our garrison who rules the men with a
rod of iron. Their demeanours are jovial enough and I surmise the expedition has met with success.
“Mr. Atkins! Mr. Atkins! May I seek your assistance once more?” I call to the hovering guard who hurries to my side. He lifts me in his arms and I am soon in position at the drawbridge, awaiting the signal to lower the huge gate and welcome my men back across our portal. I am managing to stand but have taken the precaution of stationing Joan and Agnes at either side of me.
The massive wheels bearing the chains start to turn, the creaking, groaning sound an indication of the sheer weight of the solid oak barrier as it lowers into place to offer a bridge across the moat. With a clatter of hooves, the men stream across, my own two at the head of the line. Ralf spots me at once and turns his mount in my direction.
“My lady, you make a fine sight for a weary man after two days and nights on the road.” He slides from the horse and closes the gap between us to seize me in his arms and swing me around in a wide arc. He plants me back on the ground, mercifully without jolting my foot too much and kisses me soundly.
“My lord,” I gasp when an opportunity presents itself, “welcome home.”
“It is good to be here, my sweet.” He turns to Piers who has also dismounted to issue instructions to the grooms who swarm among the horses now clustered in the bailey. “Brother, is she not a rare pleasure to behold?”
“She is, to be sure.” Piers approaches us, a smile on his face. He leans down to brush a kiss across my temple, then murmurs in my ear, “Are you still eager to feel the bite of my belt across your bottom, little maid? Ralf and I have both been anticipating this homecoming with some enthusiasm, I confess.”
“I… I am happy to see you too, Sir Piers, both of you. And yes, I look forward to greeting you properly. But first, may I—”
