by Alyssa James
Since their parents had died—ambushed by thieves as they’d journeyed to a neighbouring keep—Lisette had made it her responsibility to tutor and protect Genevieve. She leant forward and placed a light kiss on her sister’s forehead, silently renewing her vow to take care of her. To do that, Lisette needed to be alive.
This mission must succeed.
She drew herself up determinedly. She would not, could not fail. There was no room for fear or doubt. No point in self-recrimination when there was no other course open to her. Her plan would proceed. She could go through with it if she just kept herself detached. Any guilt must be banished from her brain.
Just this afternoon she had received word that her two trusted servants, John and Frederick, had succeeded in their part of the mission. This eve she would put her plan into motion and she would not stop until she had done all she could to succeed in her goal.
A soft knock on the door signalled Ysabel’s arrival. Lisette hurried forward, restless and needing to be underway.
“We ’ave everything in place, m’Lady Lisette.” Tension was marked in the lines across Ysabel’s brow. Strain bracketed her mouth and disapproval warred with disappointment in her eyes.
Ysabel had voiced her horror at Lisette’s plan immediately upon hearing it. The older woman had taken every opportunity since to both question and condemn it, but when Lisette had cried and pleaded with her to come up with another solution, none had been forthcoming. Despite spending nights on her knees in prayer, Lisette had found no other solution.
Now Lisette nodded at Ysabel. She needed support right now, not censure or formality from her most trusted friend. Dear God in Heaven she knew what she was doing was morally wrong and that she would carry the weight of this transgression for all her days, but she simply had to do this. Ysabel had assured her ’twas a plan from the very devil and against all the church’s teachings, but Lisette could not listen to her when she presented no other way out of this dire circumstance.
Everything was in place. Lisette couldn’t falter now.
Ysabel reached out and grabbed for Lisette’s hands. “Pray, my dear child, reconsider. Once you ’ave committed this act tonight there is no going back.”
“You must not condemn me when you nor John nor Frederick has provided me with any alternate plan. Would you rather I murder Lord Collins once we are wed?” she demanded harshly of her former nursemaid. “Or should I just wait until he finds a way to kill me?”
The stifling of an anguished sob was the only response she received, and Lisette felt badly for having spoken so brusquely. Both of them were nervous. Not only was the weight of guilt pressing down on them but the fear that his plan could go horribly wrong. But to go ahead with the marriage to Lord Collins as things were was also fraught with danger.
“Do not worry. All will be well. You have told me what I need to know,” Lisette tried to soothe her servant to make up for her former sharp outburst. “You need not come with me now. Stay here. Be here for Genevieve in case she wakes.”
“Non. We will both go. If we are questioned, we ’ave been sent for by Frederick to ’elp a sick person in the village. ’Twould be more suspicious if you were seen going to the village without me. Besides, your sister sleeps soundly.”
“Very well. Now, say no more.”
Lisette cast one more glance back at her little sister before she and Ysabel made their way stealthily out of the keep. They hugged the shadows of the walls lest one of the sleeping sentries awaken and question them. Frederick met them just outside the keep to escort them to their destination.
Lisette noticed he could not look at her. Once again she was assailed by the guilty knowledge that she had involved this gentle giant, her family’s faithful servant, in her unspeakable plot.
Neither Frederick nor John had been happy about her plan nor willing to go along with it. John had been more vocal in his protests, insisting that she must find another solution. He had argued about the impossibility of what she was going to do, about the many factors that could go wrong. Frederick had remained silent but brooding disapproval had tugged at his normally impassive features.
Lisette had debated fiercely with John for over an hour. Only the knowledge that he must help her or in all probability learn of her ‘accidental’ death in a year, had swayed John. He was as loyal as the sun was bright, and when Lisette had cried and asked him if he’d rather see her and then Genevieve dead, he had been overwrought. His jaw had firmed and his chin had jutted forward when he’d steeled himself and finally agreed to assist her—very grudgingly.
“Yer parents would have wanted me te protect yer, m’lady,” he’d told her at last. “I don’t think they woulda wanted me te help yer with this. But if yer te go ahead with it, then I will help yer. I would not trust this mission of yers te anyone else.”
Lisette had thrown her arms around him and hugged him fiercely, apologising and affirming that she was frantically backed into a corner and needed his help. She’d sworn if he or Frederick could come up with a different plan she would listen to them.
Frederick had frowned when John had relented, but had eventually nodded and said, “So help me God, I’ll do as yer ask.”
’Twas evident her servants were worried about her. They were also confused, for her behaviour was completely foreign to all of them. But Lisette had never been placed in such a desperate situation before.
Then they’d had to wait. It had been the longest three days of Lisette’s life while she waited for word from the men that they’d managed to do as she bade—that her plan could proceed. Each day took her closer to her wedding ceremony and she fretted that she would run out of time. There were only five days remaining until she wed, and in two days she would travel with Lord Blake to Lord Collins’ keep. There was hardly any time to act on her plan and hope it would succeed.
Dear Lord, let her sin not be for nought.
In the light from the half-moon, the trio made their way as quickly and quietly as possible to John’s hut at the very edge of the village. John stood guard at the front of the wooden structure. He gave them a nod of greeting.
“Rosie’s in the hut m’lady,” he told Lisette in hushed tones. “She’s a good woman. She’ll not betray yer. She will not tell a soul.”
Lisette nodded and forced her shallow breaths to settle into a long, deep rhythm. She wiped her clammy palms down the fabric of her skirts, the beat of apprehension pulsing through her veins. Then, without a backward glance, she parted the hessian curtains at the entrance to the hut and stepped into the candlelit room.
Rosie must have heard her approach. She raised her head from where she knelt next to a makeshift bed of hay.
Lisette averted her gaze hastily. Ysabel had told her what preparation must be done, but Lisette had not been able to bring herself to perform that part of the task. Rosie had been enlisted for that purpose.
Lisette had no wish to witness the act Rosie had been engrossed in. The village woman stood and wiped the back of her hand across her lips—lips that still glistened with moisture.
“’Tis ready for yer, m’Lady,” Rosie whispered as she curtsied.
The uncomfortable prickle of heat began on the flesh of Lisette’s chest and swept upward like a blazing fire. Courage suddenly failed her and she could neither look toward the hay bed, nor make eye contact with Rosie.
Dear Father in Heaven, she was here. This was really about to happen.
Wasn’t there some other way? Some last moment reprieve?
“Yer’ll have to be quick, m’lady,” Rosie implored. “’Twill not last fer ever. D’yer know what te do if it starts te—”
“Aye.” Lisette cut her off quickly, anticipating what she was about to be asked. She’d been embarrassed enough going through all this with Ysabel. She had no wish to discuss the topic with the young village woman. “Thank you,” she added, belatedly remembering her good manners.
“Yer Ma and Pa were always good te me folk, m’lady. ’Twas naught I could
do but help yer.”
Mortification ate at Lisette. She needed to be alone to do what must be done, not to stand around talking about it. “Pray be gone now, Rosie, and let me get on.”
As soon as Rosie departed, Lisette sank her back against the pole in the centre of the hut and exhaled heavily. Her head swam with the enormity of her undertaking.
This must be done, she told herself.
This must be done quickly.
But, dear God, being told what to do and actually doing it were two different things entirely. She simply must try. ’Twas the only way to save herself, and most importantly, to save Genevieve.
Genevieve. By the saints, if Lisette wasn’t alive, Genevieve would have no protector.
Haltingly, Lisette lifted her gaze and forced herself to look at the spot where Rosie’s head had been bent over her task.
Lisette gulped. She’d never seen a man’s private parts before.
He lay on the makeshift bed of hay in front of her, naked from the waist down, and the sight of him filled her with fear. Well, at least, the sight of his massively aroused manhood scared her.
Heaven help her!
Heaven help both of them and may this man forgive her for reducing him to this.
John had bound the man’s hands and his feet so that he could not move. He’d been gagged so he could not cry out and alert the village folk, and there was a sack over his head so he could not see her—could not identify her when this was all over and he was finally freed. He must be uncomfortable. It must be demoralising for him, but ’twas necessary.
He would never know her identity just as she would never know his.
Again, every moral fibre of her being screamed, “Nay! What you are about to do is wrong!”
Lisette bit down on her lip as tears of remorse and shame welled. She had to find the strength from somewhere to suppress the conflict that warred within her and get on with it. She could not tarry.
With complete determination, she forced herself not to think about this man as a man. She must keep everything but Ysabel’s instructions out of her mind. Taking a few small steps on shaky legs, she was beside the stranger. Heeding Ysabel’s advice, she’d worn no undergarments. Now ‘twas just a simple physical matter of lifting her skirts, straddling him and joining her body with his—just the way her former nursemaid had instructed.
Briskly, she wiped the tears away so she could see what she was doing.
It had all promised to be so simple when Ysabel had explained it. The act of positioning herself over him was much more difficult than she’d anticipated. Cursing her skirts as they got in the way, Lisette fell a little heavily on the man’s body rather than straddling him.
A great humph of air was forced from his lungs as she landed against him. Panic at the foreign contact made her heart thump crazily against her ribs.
“I’m truly sorry,” she whispered hoarsely through a throat that was so thickened with desperation and regret it didn’t sound like her voice at all.
She tried to command her conscience to stop screaming at her but ’twas impossible. She would have to do this with its taunts in her ears.
Wicked. ’Tis surely wicked, her conscience berated her again.
It must be done, the voice of desperation argued back.
Awkwardly, she levered herself upright off the coarse woollen tunic that covered the solid expanse of his chest. She moved disjointedly, placing her knees either side of his hips and tried again. ’Twas as though her soul was separated from her body. Like she was another person. One hand secured her skirts around her waist out of the way. The other hand sought his shaft. She was shaking badly and could not steady her hand. Tentatively, she took the large, heavy length of him in her hand and encircled his engorged flesh. Her touch elicited another sound from the prone figure beneath her. A sound of protest or of pleasure?
“I have no choice,” she whispered in a stricken tone.
The male appendage pulsed against her palm and drew her focus. The feel of it intrigued her. ’Twas hard as steel yet velvety soft, rising up strong yet somehow vulnerable from the cloud of dark curls between his legs. For a short time, she forgot both the wickedness and the urgency of her mission as she was mesmerised by the sight and feel of this male organ.
Experimentally she squeezed it, then stroked slightly, bringing a different type of moaned response from its owner—surely a moan of pleasure—and a single bead of dewy moisture from the opening at its tip. Fascinated, Lisette tilted her head and regarded it with a frown.
Was this drop of liquid his seed? If so, she didn’t want to waste it. Pulling herself back to her task and trying to keep herself as detached as possible, she refocussed on Ysabel’s words.
Her nursemaid had said that the organ must be hard. Grasping the male rod more firmly, she moved her hand down and up, squeezing her fingertips slightly. ’Twas definitely hard.
Its owner thrashed his head and she stilled as she cast a nervous glance toward his bindings. They were still firmly in place. John would have made sure of that. Besides, Frederick, John and Ysabel were all just outside the hut. She would only have to cry out to them and they would come to her aid if this man broke free.
But were the bindings too tight? A quick inspection revealed they were not cutting into the man’s flesh.
“Pray be still,” she begged. “I will try not to hurt you.”
’Twas time. There could be no more delay.
She rucked her skirts up further so they rested up on her back. Both hands free now but still shaking violently, she used one to separate the folds of feminine flesh to expose the secret opening as Ysabel had instructed. Lisette had explored her body over the last couple of days in preparation for this mission, but she was still unready. With her other hand, she guided the bulbous, moist male tip to her entrance.
Panic caught in her throat. He was impossibly thick. Mayhap she was not formed correctly? Surely he would not fit into her small, finger-space opening?
Tentatively she pushed down a little with her body and felt her flesh give way slightly before the organ’s passage came to a halt, pressed against her pubic bone. Surely this was not deep enough? Ysabel said she must take the whole length of him. Then again, his length was massive. Was he normally proportioned?
She shifted the angle of her pelvis a little and moved again, taking in another inch of his length.
A muffled human sound came from the sack.
Did she hurt him?
She bit down on her lower lip in anxiety. She didn’t want to hurt him. Ysabel had assured her he would feel only pleasure—that it would be Lisette who would feel pain. So far there’d been only discomfort for her as she’d forced his organ into her dry passage. The pain would surely come. Most of his shaft had yet to be buried within her.
She lowered herself a tiny bit more.
He moaned and his head reared up off the hay. The sack shifted a little and she saw the corded muscles of his neck strain along with the muscles of his arms as he tried once again to break loose of his bindings.
Tears filled her eyes afresh so that his image swam before her. She hated what she was doing. ’Twas shameful that she’d had her servants truss this man up like a beast and had a village woman bring him to arousal with her mouth. ’Twas wicked that she did this without his consent and she was not certain she could proceed. When Lisette had hatched her plan, she hadn’t thought through all the ramifications. She’d been thoroughly focussed on her own need to survive and had prayed God and this stranger would pardon her for her wrong-doing because of the desperateness of her situation.
Her soul was lost. She would burn in Hell. ’Twas what she deserved.
Death would almost be preferable to this, but her death would not save Genevieve and that was the whole reason she must keep going.
His arms pulled fruitlessly at the bindings.
Nay. He would not break free. The thought of her sister strengthened her resolve. Lisette had come this far. There could be no
turning back.
“Forgive me.” She needed him to stay where he was until she had finished with him.
Despite her own abhorrence at her plan, she was determined to complete her mission. Insistent on quelling his attempts to resist her and escape, Lisette gritted her teeth and pushed down. Impaling herself on the full length of his erect shaft, burning, tearing pain seared through her. Her body became paralysed—too afraid to move in case she rent herself apart.
She must have done something wrong. Surely she must be split in two as punishment for this sin? Straddling him, unwilling to move for fear that the stabbing pain would begin again, she looked down at the place they were joined. The curls at the juncture of her thighs were blond against the darkness of his.
Ysabel had said the pain would ease.
Lisette waited and tried to block his muffled growl of protest from her brain. She placed her hands on his thighs as he tried to buck her off.
“Pray, hold still,” she hissed as each of his movements increased her discomfort.
Although he ignored her, it didn’t take long before the pain faded. Lisette’s whole awareness focussed upon the foreign sensation of being filled by him in this recess of her body she’d never known existed. She was strangely full. Each time he thrust up to unseat her, the sensation where he was joined inside her was...interesting.
Thankfully, he was still hard inside her. Leaning forward over his body now, supporting her weight with her knees and hands, she thought about what she had to do and began to rock her hips—taking his shaft deep within her, then easing it out. In. Out. In. Out. She found a steady rhythm. Gradually it became easier as her passage was moister and less impervious.
Relief surged through her. The difficult part was surely over, and he was no longer pulling at his bindings. He no longer gave any signs that she hurt him. She could do this. ’Twas simply a matter of moving her body in a steady rhythm just like she did when she timed her movement to the trot of her horse. The man’s appendage slid in and out of her quite fluidly now, and there was no more pain for her—just a subtle friction with the movement and slight tenderness of her inner flesh as she stretched to take him in. Tenderness and then...something a little more—something impossible to name. A sudden yearning that struck her without warning—a need to feel him deeper, to have his thickness move in and out of her slick feminine sheath faster.
