William stood, tears in his eyes, lightheaded with pride and delight. He stared at Robert and saw an answering expression, as if his lord was remembering the day of his own elevation from squire to knighthood.
Then the viscomte and Sir Giles stood by him again, and William turned to allow the viscomte to present him with the sword and gird him with the sword belt, while Sir Giles gave William his spurs.
Robert motioned to the youngest squire in his service, and the lad came forward bearing a long riding cloak. The boy bowed as he handed it to Robert, who took the cloak and held it out. William stepped closer to his lord and stood motionless as Robert swept the cloak around him. The rich, heavy wool settled over his shoulders. Dyed a deep shade of blue and edged with sable, it was an expensive garment, the costliest thing William had ever worn. Near the collar was a circular bronze clasp, its edge of punched design and its middle an openwork pattern of vine tendrils and unfamiliar flowers.
William trembled as Robert moved even closer, ostensibly to fasten the cloak around him. Keeping his voice low and intimate, Robert murmured, “The clasp is from the great market in Constantinople. Its only value lies in its antiquity, but I admired it and wore it into battle. I would not gift it to a lesser man, Sir William.”
“Then I will value it more highly than any bauble of silver or gold, my lord,” William said, his throat tight and aching with an emotion he’d never be able to put into words.
Robert smiled and smoothed down the folds of the cloak, his touch seeming to burn through the fine cloth. Then he turned William to face the crowd gathered in the great hall and raised his voice to a shout. “I present Sir William Raven!”
Cheers broke out, applause and cries of acclamation. The castle musicians struck up a jaunty tune, and the men pressed forward to offer their congratulations. The viscomte and Sir Giles were first to commend him, and even Stephen managed to mutter a blessing.
Overhearing his brother’s reluctant words, Robert called out that he’d arranged for a horse-coper to call at the castle in the next few days so William could choose a destrier. “Have your purse-strings open,” Robert commanded with a wicked smile, and Stephen scowled.
The women entered to join the festivities, and Lady Alais approached William to offer her warmest congratulations. The ladies of her bower giggled and flirted with him, and William realised with a grin that now he’d become a knight, he was finally an object of female interest. The irony made him want to laugh, and he excused himself from the cluster of women and for the first time took his place at one of the tables reserved for knights.
Dish after dish of food was brought in for this breakfast feast—soft white bread still warm from the oven, honey-glazed chicken roasted with spices, tiny brown pigeons stuffed with nuts, individual fruit tartlets—and the ale and wine flowed freely. William ate and drank with pleasure, then later there were songs and dancing.
The Viscomte de Murat approached as William sat catching his breath after a particularly boisterous dance. “Sir William,” the viscomte began, his lips quirking at the use of the title, “I have a proposition for you.”
William straightened, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and dread. “My lord?”
“Your behaviour impresses me. You have courage and integrity, and you are clever—for an Englishman.” Another smile. “You have the pride of a Frenchman, though, and above all you display the most admirable loyalty. I could do with more men like you in my service, Sir William. I would like to offer you a place in my retinue.”
“You do me a great honour, my lord. I—I don’t know what to say.” William winced as soon as the words left his mouth. He knew what he should say, but he didn’t want to say it—not yet, not when he still didn’t know Robert’s intentions. He shouldn’t risk his future on a wild hope, but until he learned Robert’s feelings toward him, he didn’t want to leap to a decision.
The viscomte nodded. “I understand you may need time to consider the offer. Give me your answer on the morrow.”
“Thank you, my lord. I will think on it.” William watched the viscomte stride back to the high table, and then his gaze locked on Sir Robert’s narrowed expression. They stared at each other for the space of several heartbeats. William’s emotions churned, and he wished he could see beneath Robert’s impassive features.
He turned away, worrying at his thumbnail. Only a fool would turn down the offer of service to such a wealthy lord. He had more of a chance to win riches and renown in France as part of the viscomte’s retinue than he did staying here in a country where tourneys were banned by royal order. William glanced at the high table again. Robert would want him to accept the offer, surely. Robert would expect it of him. Perhaps Robert would consider it an insult if he refused.
His thoughts hopelessly muddled, William breathed a sigh of relief when John and two maids came over to drag him back to the dancing.
By early afternoon, the excitement that had carried him through the morning had ebbed, and the lack of sleep from the vigil caught up with him. He kept a smile on his face, conscious that this was his day of celebration, but exhaustion pulled at him, and coupled with the confusion over what his decision should be, all William wanted to do was lie down to rest.
His tiredness was noted. As the musicians started up another round of tunes for dancing, Robert left his guests and crossed the hall. He bent close to William. “You need to sleep, young lion. I would have my new knight at full battle strength for tonight.”
Desire sharpened William’s dazed wits, and he stared up at Robert. “My lord, I would gladly sleep now, but the musicians are making merry in the place where I lay my bed.”
Robert chuckled. “Then I give you leave to sleep in my bed.”
“But—” William wanted to protest, wanted to blurt out his dilemma, but his head spun with weariness. “My lord…”
“I want no disagreements. Away with you to rest. Sleep well, Sir William.”
* * *
William awoke when light flickered in front of his eyelids. He turned toward it, then opened his eyes to see a candle placed on the clothes-chest near the bed. He blinked, confused for a moment about where he lay, and then he remembered. This wasn’t his thin, lumpy mattress rolled out near the hearth. This was soft, curtained, the bolsters full of goose down. It was Sir Robert’s bed.
He pulled himself up onto his elbow and looked beyond the wavering flame of the candle. In the faint glow of light, his lord was just shedding the last of his clothes, his actions swift and economical. Muscles rolled under tanned skin when Robert placed his clothes on top of his sword and belt on the chest. William could have watched the motion of his shoulder blades forever.
Desire sprang up in his belly when Robert turned toward him, a smile on his lips, his cock semi-hard. “Do you know why I call you ‘lion,’ Sir William?”
“No.” The reminder of his new title startled him, and even though he’d heard it many times during the breakfast feast, heard it shouted to the very rafters of the great hall, hearing it from his lord’s lips at this moment made it seem real.
Robert approached, and William shifted to the side to make room. He’d undressed completely before settling down to sleep in this bed, remembering well the pleasure his lord took in seeing him naked. Now, as their bare skin touched, body aligning to body, William thought it was the most delicious feeling in the world.
“Your eyes.” Robert touched William’s chin, turning his face to the candlelight.
“When the sun catches them right, they’re the same colour as the eyes of a mountain lion. They hold the same ferocity, the same pride…the same lust for life.”
William believed him. Robert had seen lions in the Holy Land, had hunted them, but it seemed strange to be complimented like this. He wasn’t a lady who needed to be won with sweet words. Maybe Robert was only telling him these things because this was to be their last time together. “I just…want to thank you, my lord. For everything.”
Robert stu
died him for a while, then gently touched his lips to William’s. “Nothing that wasn’t deserved.”
“And your patience with me…”
Robert chuckled. “As we already agreed, you’re not a bathhouse whore. I prefer to court my lovers.”
Lovers. William swallowed hard, his heart already racing. Courting. Was that even possible between two men? The priests always talked about the friendship and loyalty that bound men together, but that never seemed to mean this kind of touch, and the other words they used were sneered and whispered with disdain. But here, like this—was there anything about it that was truly evil and sinful?
William moved to kiss Robert’s throat, suddenly brave again, and the warm smell of his body, with a memory of some exotic fragrance, aroused William further. Robert lay back and pulled him closer until William lay on top, skin on skin from the chest down to the knees. He felt Robert’s cock brush his, felt his strength underneath, and his lord’s fingers twisting into his hair to pull him into a rough kiss.
William ground against him, making them both gasp with the pleasure of it, and he loved that, loved the expression on Robert’s face when he did something his lord enjoyed. He remembered taking Robert’s cock in his mouth and wondered if he should do it again now.
William broke the kiss, studied the quicksilver eyes that watched him closely, and was unspeakably glad to finally be in Robert’s bed, alone with him, with the whole night ahead of them.
“Half of love is restraint.” Robert touched his cheek. “Patience and respect. Don’t waste your time on the unworthy, William.”
William smiled and kissed him again, feeling like he could never kiss and touch enough, not in a hundred years. He wanted all of it, every breath rising in Robert’s chest, every heartbeat against his. He wasn’t sure what to say. The emotions were just too big, trapped in his chest, and he couldn’t possibly speak them aloud.
Robert stroked rough hands down William’s sides to cup his arse cheeks. William shuddered with pleasure when his lord pulled him closer, strong fingers first digging into hard muscles, then sliding between his cheeks. William moved up a little, grinding his cock against Robert’s belly as a couple of fingers found his opening and rubbed it. He spread his legs and Robert’s other hand rubbed the place between his balls and his arsehole. A groan broke from his throat, and he kissed Robert again, hungrier now, open-mouthed, tasting him, fighting his tongue.
Robert withdrew his fingers and pushed William over, then kicked away the coverings. Despite the chill of the autumn night, William had no time to feel cold. His master’s naked skin warmed him.
Robert only paused to reach for something he’d placed near the candle. “Lie on your side with your back to me.”
William obeyed, watching over his shoulder. His lord poured something into his hand, and then oily fingers touched him in that secret place again, pushing beyond the barrier of his body. Surprised, William grunted, then opened his legs further, one foot on the mattress, when a searing pleasure raced through him, a dozen times more intense than anything he’d ever felt. He gasped, hands closing into fists, and he thrust against it.
“Patience, young lion.” Robert rubbed his hand over his own cock, coating it with glistening oil, and William felt sudden hunger for that thick, hard shaft. He’d kiss and lick it again—he wanted to taste it, feel its weight on his tongue. He wanted to touch Robert like that, feel the silky hardness and bring his lord pleasure.
On instinct, William curved his back when Robert pressed against him, guiding his cock with one hand. The pressure against him turned to yielding, while Robert suppressed a groan and kept pushing, slowly. William closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation of being breached and taken. He’d do anything for Robert, including this, which the priests said was unnatural and against God’s will. Worse, it made a man less of a man—and yet William felt more aware of his masculinity than before, because it was his body that Robert desired.
Robert slid deeper into him, struggling a little to make William’s flesh surrender to him, but William didn’t pull away, as intense and not altogether pleasant as it was. Then he felt Robert’s skin against him again, the rough hair around his cock, and knew his lord was fully inside him. This act seemed enormous, but not wrong.
“William.”
Robert kissed his neck, shoulder, his lips when William turned his head, and the roughness and emotion in his lord’s voice made him tremble. He reached for Robert’s hand where it lay flat on his belly in a possessive gesture, and the caress made Robert slide that hand down to William’s cock. It had softened in his surprise at being entered and claimed so thoroughly, but within moments of Robert cupping William’s balls in his palm and squeezing them gently, William began to grow hard again.
The bolster muffled his groans as Robert pulled and stroked William’s balls. William’s arsehole clenched around his lord’s cock, the discomfort fading and soon forgotten as William’s prick grew harder. Only then did Robert touch his cock, the hand so skilful around him, moving slow and tender, but firm. The thrusts of Robert’s hips caused an overwhelming desire that William couldn’t name. Deeper, more intense than a hand or lips, he felt the sensations down to the core of his being. William still wasn’t sure if this feeling was just pleasure or if there was some pain to it. Maybe this was what too much pleasure felt like—this sense of fullness, of teetering on the edge of the unknown. It was beyond William’s experience; he couldn’t know and didn’t want to think about it, and instead watched and felt how Robert stroked him.
The thrusts increased, the pleasure-pain making William rock back against his lord. He had never run from a challenge. He pushed himself hard onto Robert’s cock, gasping a little, then laughed with joy at Robert’s answering moan. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on the sensations, feeling his climax build. Before he could lose himself and spill his seed, Robert circled his thumb and forefinger at the base of William’s cock, pressing hard.
William gave a cry of dismay. He ground back against Robert, hearing the slick sounds of their damp flesh, his body trembling as he fought to regain control. The pressure in his cock and balls seemed unbearable, and he snarled at the denial.
“Patience,” Robert gasped, then with a shout spilled himself inside William’s arse, hot seed jetting from him again and again until he lay against William, chest heaving. His grip loosened around William’s cock.
“My lord?” Puzzled by why his orgasm had been thwarted, William twisted onto his back and looked at his lover. He closed a hand around his prick, working it back to full strength, then paused. “Can I—Do you want to watch me touch myself again?”
The question seemed to revive Robert. He laughed, warmth in his satiated expression, and drew him closer, running a hand over his belly. “Didn’t I bid you to patience, young lion?” he murmured. “I made you wait for a reason. We are equals now.”
Not sure what Robert meant, William smiled.
“Equals,” Robert said again. His oily palm slipped over William’s cock again, caressing circles over the leaking tip. “In case the lectures of the priests on this particular sin have made you feel emasculated by what we’ve done, I am giving you the opportunity to reclaim your manhood.”
William made a sound of disbelief. “You want me to—”
Robert laughed and kissed him. “Don’t be so shocked, Sir Knight. As you enjoyed it, so do I. The Greek way of love is remarkably liberating, I find.” He withdrew his hand and rolled onto his back, flat on the mattress, and stared at him with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
For a moment William didn’t know how to respond. The thought of fucking Robert made his cock surge and his balls ache. William licked his lips and moved closer, staring at his lord’s hard, naked body, taking in every inch of tanned, hair-roughened skin. Robert’s cock lay quiescent against his thigh, and William wanted to see it erect again.
He arranged himself alongside his lord, tracing a hand through the hair on his chest, following t
he trail down to Robert’s prick. Instead of touching it, William ran his fingers back up Robert’s body to explore. He stroked his thumb over Robert’s flat nipples, feeling him tense and murmur. Thinking that his touch was too light, William pinched them, at first with the pads of his fingers, then with the added bite of his nails.
Robert growled, his eyes glinting. He remained still, his breathing shallow and rapid as William climbed on top of him. Aware of his lord’s hungry stare, William lowered his head and licked at Robert’s nipples, then used his teeth. He remembered John bragging that this technique worked wonders on the village girls, but it seemed to have less effect on a nobleman.
William scratched a line up the inside of one thigh and Robert spread his legs wider. They locked gazes as William explored, his fingertips brushing through thick curls of pubic hair and over the heavy sac of Robert’s balls. He found that patch of skin behind and stroked across it, and felt his lord jerk up, his hips canting, his cock rising. William burrowed further, worming a finger into heat, probing within the cleft of Robert’s buttocks.
“Very good,” Robert murmured. “You learn quickly.”
William pressed a finger against the ring of his anus. “Now who is the one in need of patience?”
Robert laughed. “I will surrender gladly to you. Perhaps, as it’s your first time this way, I can make it easier for you.” He eased away from William’s hand and rolled onto his front, taking one of the bolsters and placing it beneath him. Supporting himself on the bolster, Robert raised himself onto his hands and knees, arse lifted high, his weight tilted forward through his arms. “Use the oil. It’s as much for your pleasure as it is for my comfort.”
William swallowed. Anticipation and arousal beat within him. His cock pulsed, hard and thick and hot. He fumbled with the stopper on the little vial, then poured a generous handful of oil into his hand and slathered it along the full length of his prick, gasping a little at the slippery feel of it. Keeping a firm grip around the base of his cock, he positioned himself behind his lord. He focused his gaze on the tight muscled buttocks in front of him, at the dark hair in the cleft. With oiled fingers he traced the seam, found Robert’s hole, and pushed against the resistance of muscle.
The Lion of Kent Page 9
