Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set

by Jill Elaine Hughes

  Mabel and Prudence the corseted Victorian stare me down, both chuckling.

  I’m shocked. To think, my first experience with lesbian sex—as incredible as it was—was just a ruse to make me unconscious. I’ll have to think twice before I ever hook up with pussy again.

  I have got to get out of here. The Hall of Harlots is hazardous to my health.

  I decide to draw upon my old Campfire Girl training and “play possum.” Hopefully it’ll buy me some time. I let my eyes roll back into my head and pretend to faint. I let my whole body go limp.

  My strategy works, because I soon feel the silken bands being loosened from my hands and arms. Somebody picks me up by the shoulders, somebody else my ankles, and I am carried off someplace and set down onto something soft. Hoping they’ll give up on me and go away, I don’t open my eyes for a long time.

  Finally, after almost half an hour, I hear two sets of retreating footsteps, followed by a slamming door. I open my eyes slowly, unsure of where I’ll find myself.

  I’m surprised to see that I’m back in my own private bedchamber, tucked in my four-poster bed. I reach over to the carved oak bedside table and ring the bell that will summon Bridget.

  A moment later, she comes running in, worry lines pulling at her face.“Milady! Thank heaven yer all right! I’ve been a-hearin’ the most awful stories from the Hall this evenin’. When they carried ye in like that, lass, I feared the worst!”

  I sit up. “Who carried me in? And what exactly have you been hearing about me?”

  Bridget fluffs my pillow and pours me a glass of cool water. “Oh, all sorts o’ things, lass.”

  “What sorts of things?”

  Bridget sighs. “Well, first I heard that ye’d been murdered. Then I found out that wasn’t true, but that ye had been knocked unconscious by someone, and that someone had kidnapped ye and hidden you somewhere in the Castle. And I heard all sorts of rumors about who’uz responsible—“

  I cut her off. “It was Madam Jasphet. You were right about her, Bridget. She does have it in for me.” I notice that the skin of my arms and torso is itching and burning a lot, so I peel back the linen layers of my underdresses and petticoats to take a look. I’m shocked to find a bumpy, bright-red rash all over my skin.“What the hell is that?” I shriek, pointing at the fresh lesions.

  Bridget squints her old eyes at my skin for a better look. “Oh dear, lass. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. It’s just as I expected.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Bridget purses her lips. “I told ye once before that Madam Jasphet is poison, lass. An’ ‘ere’s yer proof, right on yer skin.”

  I gasp. “But what can I do? Am I going to be scarred for life or what?”

  Bridget takes a cool cloth from the washstand and dabs it with some witch hazel tonic she finds among my Hall of Harlots-issued toiletries. “No, lass. It’ll heal itself soon enough. Even sooner, when I’m done with ye.” She massages cool water and witch hazel into my rash, which starts feeling better and looking less red almost immediately. “No harm done, lass. At least not this time. But next time ye might not be so lucky. Madam Jasphet, she’s an evil one, she is.”

  My mind is spinning. It’s all happening too fast. My life has been hijacked, and God only knows what’s going to happen next. I have to figure out a way to take back control of my life, and fast—or I might not have a life at all. “Bridget, I have to get out of here. I have to get back to New Jersey. And I want you to come with me. Pembroke too, if I can convince him.”

  “Where’s New Jersey, lass? Is it near Cornwall?”

  I laugh. “No, it’s closer to New York City. In America. You know where America is, right? They had America in the time you’re from, didn’t they?”

  Bridget giggles and claps her hands. “O’ course they did, lass! I read all about America when Mr. Dickens went there on tour an’ wrote all ‘bout it in the Times! Right afore His Lordship found me in the square an’ brought me here! Oh, lass, it sounded like a wondrous place! I should like nuttin’ more than to go there!”

  “Well, the America I’m from is probably a lot different from the one Charles Dickens wrote about,” I say. “But it’s still pretty cool. I can take you to see the Empire State Building. And the Statue of Liberty. And the New Jersey Turnpike, too. That’s where I work.” I pause, try to collect my thoughts. “But first things first. We need to figure out a way out of this place. And I think I know the best time to do it.”

  “When’s that, lass?”

  “Why, the Harlot’s Ball, of course! You said yourself that I’d have free run of the castle for that day and that day alone. What better time to escape than that?”

  Bridget frowns. “But even if ye do get outside the castle, lass, ye ain’t got no idea how to travel ‘cross time. Nobody does, ‘ceptin’ His Lordship himself.”

  “Maybe not for long,” I say, leaping from the bed. Bridget’s soothing skin treatment and my own excitement have brought me newfound energy. “Pembroke and I have already talked about how we’ll work together to unlock the secret of Lord Verdigris’ time travel. Pembroke’s already figured most of it out on his own. He just needs my talents to take what he’s already learned the rest of the way.”

  Bridget arches a brow. “Your talents, lass? And which talents might those be?”

  “Oh, a little of this and a little of that,” I answer mischievously. “But leave that up to me. First things first. What do I need to know about this Harlot’s Ball? What happens there? What should I wear? What should I do? I need to know everything.”

  Bridget smiles. “Well, sit ye down then, lass. Fer I know everythin’ there is to know ‘bout the Harlot’s Ball.”

  Chapter 10

  “I attended me first Harlot’s Ball more’n thirty years ago, lass,” Bridget says, settling back into one of my overstuffed velvet chairs. “An’ ‘twas a Ball fer the ages, ‘twas.

  “I’uz newly arrived in the Hall then, a wee girl of only nineteen. Lord Verdigris has captured me in Edinburgh an’ brought me back in time to this place only three weeks afore. I’uz but wee an’ timid then, still tryin’ to find me way round the Hall, not very popular among the lords an’ vassals, either. I was afraid Lord Verdigris’ud turn me out to pasture if I didn’t find me way round soon. I’uz scared, I was.

  “But somethin’ ‘appened at that first Harlot’s Ball that ‘elped bring me outa me shell, lass. Somethin’ that may very well ‘ave saved me life, too.”

  “What was that?”

  Bridget cocks an eyebrow. “All in good time, lass. First let me start with what ‘appened the week afore the ball.”

  I stretch and take a sip of water, settling back into my pillows. I get the feeling this will be a long and colorful tale. “Go on.”

  “I’uz not havin’ a good time of it in the Hall of Harlots, no not ‘tall. His Lordship ‘ad captured me an’ brought me here, an’ yet ‘e ‘adn’t laid a finger on me. Nor ‘ad any of ‘is knights or vassals. I didn’t quite know why I’uz here ‘tall, lass. After all, one can’t well be a Harlot if nobody wants to lie with ye. I’uz clumsy, an’ slow, an’ not near as pretty as all the other Harlots—or so I thought. The other Harlots, they’uz makin’ fun of me lass. They called me ‘Bumblin’ Bridget.’I began to worry I’d be turned out to sleep with the pigs.

  “I honestly ‘ad no idea what Lord Verdigris ‘ad seen in me when he stumbled ‘cross me washin’ out me chemises in the Prince Street fountain. Why ‘ad he brought me ‘ere in the first place, I wondered. There ‘ad to be some reason. But just when I’uz ‘bout to give up an’ turn meself out to live with the pigs, somethin’ wonderful ‘appened.”

  I lean closer. “And what was that?”

  “A week afore the Harlot’s Ball, one o’ Lord Verdigris’ personal bondservants came to the Hall an’ made a special announcement. ‘E said that there would be a special theme to the Ball for that year only. An’ that special theme would be the Thistledown Ball. All the dances, attire, music an’ wha
tnot would be Scottish. The bondservant looked straight ‘cross the room at me an’ said that there’uz only one Harlot in the whole Hall of Harlots who knew anything ‘bout Scotland an’ Scottish music an’ dress, an’ that’uz me, o’course. He told all t’other Harlots they’d need to learn how to dance an’ dress an’ sing at the Thistledown Ball from me. Then he left the Hall, an’ all the ladies just went into a frenzy, all a-rushin’ me at once. Now back then I’uz quite shy, not used to talkin’ to strangers, let alone teachin’ twenty score o’ Harlots how to dance a reel an’ wear a tartan. I didn’t know what to do, lass. So I just ran away down the hall an’ hid in me chambers fer awhile. But that didn’t last long.”

  “Wow,” I say. “Then what happened?”

  “Well, all t’other Harlots were a-bangin’ on me chamber door, demandin’ I teach ‘em how to dance the Scottish reel an’ how to wear the tartan. But I didn’t pay ‘em no mind. I’uz too busy tryin’ to figure out how I’uz gonna manage bein’ at the center of attention at the Thistledown Ball. After a day or so, tho, I couldn’t ignore th’ bangin’ at me door much longer. I’uz hungry an’ in need of a bath, after all. But when I finally opened up me door, I didn’t find no Harlots there a-bangin’ no longer. I found Lord Verdigris ‘imself instead.”

  “Let me guess. He planned the whole thing from the beginning.”

  Bridget smiles. “Right ye are, lass. He’d had ‘is eye on me with th’ Thistledown Ball in mind from the very beginnin’, he did. An’ now ‘e’d shown up to collect ‘is reckoning, he had. Lord Verdigris, ‘e swept into me room, an’ picked me up in ‘is arms. Fer Lord Verdigris, he ‘ad a lot o’ plans fer me, he did.”

  “What kind of plans? And what did you and Verd do in the bedchamber?”

  Bridget reddens. “I’m not sure ye want t’ hear ‘bout that, lass.”

  I laugh out loud. “Of course I do! Dish!”

  Bridget fidgets with her hands a bit, then relaxes. “All right, lass. But don’t say ye didn’t ask fer it. His Lordship an’ I—we, well, danced. We danced a reel.”

  I have to fight to conceal my disappointment. “You—danced? Just danced? That’s all?”

  Bridget nods. “Yes, lass. That’s all. At first.”

  “What do you mean, at first?”

  She sighs, remembering. “His Lordship, he’d become enthralled with Scottish reels the first time he visited me homeland on a time-travel trip there just afore he met me an’ brought me back here to Bellweather Castle. His Lordship made many visits to Scotland in many different times, from Robert the Bruce’s day to Rob Roy’s time to me own, and fell in love with everything Scottish, he did. ‘E wanted to do and be everything like Scotsmen were, from wear the tartan to dance the reel to play the pipes. But ‘e didn’t know how. That’s where I came in. Those first few times His Lordship came to me rooms, I taught ‘im to dance the reel.”

  “And nothing else?”

  Bridget reddens even more. “An’ nuttin’ else, lass. I’uz but a wee girl then, ye see. I ‘ad no knowledge o’ things between men an’ women at that time. I’uz but a virgin, lass.”

  My eyes widen. Poor Bridget, trapped in the Hall of Harlots when she was a virgin! It occurs to me with sadness that Bridget’s body has never, ever been her own.

  My sadness must show on my face, because Bridget reaches over and pats me on the hand. “Don’t cry for me, lass,” she says. “I ‘ad a right good ol’ time with His Lordship, I did. ‘E was much younger then too, an’ kinder. ‘E could be right soft an’ tenderhearted in those days, ‘e could. An’ he’s quite a lovely dancer, even if ‘e kin ‘ave two left feet at first. It took ‘im quite a while to learn to dance the reel properly. Tho’ sometimes I reckon ‘e took longer to learn it just so ‘e could spend that much more time with me.”

  Bridget’s eyes are misty, her expression wistful. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was once deeply in love with Lord Verdigris.

  As if reading my mind, Bridget confirms my suspicions, her eyes brimming with tears. “Forgive me blubberin’, lass. I still ‘ave quite a soft spot for His Lordship after all these years, even if he is a bloody rapscallion.”

  “You were in love with him,” I say.

  “Yes, lass, I was. For a time.” She fingers a small silver ring on her right hand that I haven’t noticed before. “Lord Verdigris, ‘e treated me differently than t’other girls in the Hall at that time. All t’other girls, they’uz experienced ladies o’ the night afore they got here. Me, I’uz but a wee innocent girl. Lord Verdigris—Verdie, as I called ‘im then—‘e respected that, he did. He courted me just like ‘e would had ‘e been a-seekin’ me hand in marriage. And he was, in a way. He chose the Thistledown Ball as me weddin’ celebration o’ sorts. I spent those few weeks a-preparin ‘im an’ me fer me big Scottish comin’ out party. I didn’t realize it then, but teachin’ Lord Verdigris to dance the reel was ‘is own dance o’ seduction.

  “The day o’ the ball finally came. I’d made me own costume for the ball—a red tartan I wore over me white linen chemise, an’ the kid leather dancin’ shoes I had on when His Lordship spirited me away from Edinburgh. I strolled into the Hall, which the Personal Guards ‘ad decked out in red an’ yellow tartans an’ plenty of wild canola blossoms, a-makin’ look just like the Highlands in springtime. His Lordship ‘ad even rounded up a Scottish pipe band from God knew where—probably one o’ ‘is time-travel journeys—just fer the ball. All t’other Harlots just stood round, a-tappin’ their feet an’ lookin’ outa place, not knowin’ how t’dance or what to do. But when His Lordship arrived, he only ‘ad eyes fer me, ‘e did. We danced the reel with all the Hall o’ Harlots’ eyes on us.

  “‘Twas a magical evenin’, ‘twas. His Lordship spent it all with me, doing reel after reel on the floor, nivver once offering ‘is hand to any one o’ t’other ladies. An’ as the evenin’ wore down, he spirited me off to me rooms, where we had our first lyin’-in together. ‘Twas a simple couplin’, nuttin’ fancy. I’uz still but a wee girl, don’t ye know. His Lordship’us gentle an’ tender, he was. Gave me this ring, he did.” She holds her hand out to show me the delicate silver ring, an old-style Celtic claddaugh tarnished with age. “We ‘ad a nice little fling fer awhile, a few months perhaps. His Lordship came to me most every night, an’ I learned all me ways o’ the flesh from ‘im. But like all things in the Hall, it came to an end.”

  I can’t help but feel sad. “Lord Verdigris stopped coming to see you, then.”

  “Not entirely. ‘E still came to visit, oh, once every few months or so for several years on after our little love affair. But ‘twas nivver the same. I just became one o’ the scores o’ faceless, nameless Harlots in the Hall. I missed His Lordship terribly at first, but soon I’uz learnin’ how to make good from the bad. Ye see, lass, word got round the shire that I’uz the belle o’ the Thistledown Ball an’ Lord Verdigris’ beloved romantic favorite fer a time. Afore I knew it, most every vassal an’ knight in the garrison was a-linin’ up at me chamber door to partake o’ me favors. I’uz the most popular Harlot in the Hall for a good many years after, an’ I had many love affairs among me clients. One in particular, Lord Sean of Cordally, he taught me most everything I know ‘bout things betwixt men and women.” Bridget blushes deeper, and giggles like a schoolgirl. “Wild things. Oh, the thought o’ Lord Sean makes me hot even now. ‘E’uz the first lad who ate me cunt. Oh, how I loved how he ate me cunt. An’ ‘twas from Lord Sean that I learned the proper way to suck cock.”

  I gasp. For some odd reason, I can’t believe the words “cunt” and “cock” have escaped Bridget’s lips. I guess that’s because I think of her more as a mother figure than as a fellow sexpot. “So you became quite the lady about town,” I say. “In a matter of speaking, anyway, since you were locked up.”

  Bridget nods. “Aye, lass. Ye see, Lord Verdigris ‘ad it all planned from the very beginning. ‘E wanted me to be a great Harlot among Harlots here in the Hall, an’ he designed the Thistledow
n Ball as me comin’-out party. ‘E had ‘is own way with me first, but when ‘e tired of me—as he always tires o’ his Harlots, lass, so beware—‘e found me a whole host o’ lads to not only ‘elp me earn me keep, but also bring me some lads who’d remain dedicated to me fer years an’ years. Lord Sean, he kept a-comin’ to see me for years an’ years, all the way up ‘til he died five years ago. My looks had long since gone, but he adored me still, ‘e did. No matter how rapscallionous Lord Verdigris acts nowadays, I’ll always ‘ave ‘im to thank fer makin’ me a woman an’ introducin’ me to the love o’ me life.”

  I settle back into the pillows, mulling all of this over. “This is your way of helping me accept my plight here, isn’t it, Bridget?”

  She shrugs. “In a way ‘tis, lass. But I got ‘nother message fer ye too. If ye truly want yer chance to be free o’ this place, makin’ a big splash at the Harlots’ Ball is the way to go. ‘Tho I don’t got the faintest idea how ye’ll accomplish that.”

  “Don’t worry,” I say. “I do.”

  ****

  The day of the Harlot’s Ball has arrived. I’m in my chambers, standing on a cushioned pedestal while Bridget pins up the hem on my new ballgown. A ballgown I designed myself, I might add.

  I’ll never claim to know much about fashion. Most of my pre-medieval-abduction clothes were worn Levis and tight polyester-elastic tops I bought at the Cherry Hill Mall. But I did always pay attention to what the actresses and supermodels wore down the red carpet when they broadcast the Emmys and Oscars on TV. So I’ll admit that my gown design probably won’t win any fashion awards if I ever manage to get back to the twenty-first century. But I can guarantee that it’s like nothing they’ve ever seen in the twelfth century.