Shadow of the Knife

by Jane Fletcher

  Hal beckoned. “It’s okay. Jo’s going to sort it out in the stable.”

  From the entrance hall immediately inside the farmhouse door stairs led to the upper floor. Ellen eyed them—presumably the bedrooms were up there. However, Hal had turned right, into the kitchen. Ellen followed. A pot bubbling on the iron stove filled the room with the rich smell of lamb cooking. Nobody else was present, although through the open back door, Ellen could see Cassie Drennen’s knees. The old woman was ensconced in her usual spot.

  Hal pointed to the table. “Sit.”

  Ellen obeyed, slipping onto the bench. A flagon of beer and two pewter tankards were already on the table.

  Hal went to the stove and stirred the contents of the pot. “Just about done. Help yourself to beer.” She grinned back over her shoulder. “I’m going to fuck you, but first I’m going to feed you.”

  From the way Ellen’s stomach was jumping around, she was not sure if food was a good idea. “I don’t know if I want...”

  “It’d better be dinner you’re expressing doubts about.”

  “Uh...yeah.”

  Hal deposited a bowl of stew on the table before Ellen. “Eat. You’re going to need your strength. And besides, if you knew how cute you look, sitting there squirming, you’d understand why I intend to make you wait.”

  Ellen ducked her head.

  Hal sat down opposite. “There’s no point hiding your face. I can see from your ears that you’ve gone red.”

  Despite feeling her cheeks burn hotter still, Ellen laughed and picked up a spoon and a chunk of bread. She noted that only two bowls were on the table. “Is Jo not...”

  “She’s going to visit some friends on the next farm over. It is her dinner you’re eating, but she told me to tell you that she doesn’t mind. She won’t be coming back until tomorrow morning. She wants a decent night’s sleep, and she thought it might get a little noisy here.”

  Ellen concentrated on eating. Her stomach was still bouncing all over the place, but the food was not affecting it one way or the other. She could only pray that she did not get indigestion later.

  “Is the stew okay?” Hal asked.

  “Yup.”

  Without raising her head, Ellen glanced up. Hal was sitting back, chewing slowly and watching her. Ellen swallowed, knowing her own performance was somewhere below infantile. It was not as if she had anything to fear, or that she did not like looking at Hal. Ellen forced her back to straighten and her death-grip on the spoon to loosen.

  She met Hal’s eyes. “The food’s fine. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. But I expect to be repaid in kind.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  The smile on Hal’s face was teasingly assured. Was she really as relaxed as she looked? Hal was, at most, seven years the elder. Was it those few years that made the difference? Every one of Ellen’s previous girlfriends had been aged within a year or two of herself, and had passively waited for her to make all the moves. Ellen was quite sure that Hal had an alternate plan mapped out.

  The sharp cut of Hal’s face matched her personality, emphasizing her rakish grin. Her body was well formed, lean, and straight. She was undeniably good-looking. But Ellen knew it was the self-assured, devil-may-care glint in Hal’s eye that she found as sexy as hell. For the first time in her life, Ellen understood what it was to have her insides turn to mush.

  Hal tore off a strip of bread to mop up the last of her stew and then pushed the empty bowl away. “I’m going to see to Aunt Cassie. The washroom and latrine are out the back, which you might want to avail yourself of.”

  “Do you need help with your aunt?”

  “No. She ate earlier. She gets stomach cramps if she has dinner too late. Not that she eats much anymore. I just need to see her settled in her room for the night.” Hal stood up and went to collect her aunt.

  Cassie shuffled through the kitchen, leaning on Hal’s arm, while picking at something invisible on her shirt. “I need to...it’s all, what’s it...you know.” They left the kitchen and Ellen heard a ground floor door on the other side of the entrance hall open and close. The elderly woman was clearly too infirm to manage the stairs.

  Ellen had visited the Roadsend bathhouse before leaving town, but the latrine was a good idea. She was back in the kitchen just in time to catch Hal wish Cassie good night and then the sound of a key turning. Hal reappeared in the kitchen.

  “You lock your aunt in her room?”

  “Have to. If she wakes in the night she can get confused and wander off. She did it last winter. If the door slamming hadn’t woken Jo and me, she’d have frozen to death. She didn’t have coat or boots and the snow was knee high.”

  Ellen had splashed cold water on her face in the washroom, and now felt marginally calmer and more controlled. She stepped closer to Hal, intending for them to kiss again, but was stopped before she got halfway.

  Hal pointed to the bench. “Sit. Wait.”

  “You say that like I’m a sheepdog.”

  “And I’m going to make you howl.” Hal went out the back door.

  Ellen sat and waited. In a few minutes, Hal returned. Wordlessly, she took Ellen’s hand and towed her from the room and up the stairs.

  Hal’s bedroom occupied the area directly above the kitchen, although it was somewhat smaller than the room below, due to being built into the eaves of the house. Light from the sinking sun streamed in through a casement window at the front, dusting the room with gold. The floorboards were bare, polished only by the passage of feet over decades. Furniture was sparse—a chest and a bed.

  Hal went to the window and pulled the shutters closed, making the light soften into a warm gloom. She turned and rested her shoulders against the wall behind her, arms folded, legs crossed at the ankle. Her gaze traveled deliberately, slowly, challengingly up and down Ellen’s body. Ellen again walked toward her and again was stopped.

  Hal pressed one forefinger into Ellen’s shoulder, keeping her at bay. “Stand still.”

  “I—”

  “And don’t talk.”

  The command delivered a jolt like lightning through Ellen’s core. Breathing suddenly became a struggle. Her legs were shaking. Ellen locked her knees to stop herself from falling.

  Hal returned her arms to the folded position. “Take your shirt off.”

  Ellen’s fingers were clumsy, but she was amazed they obeyed her at all, slipping each button free. She tossed the shirt aside. A draft of air tickled the exposed skin on Ellen’s back, but it was not this that made her body tingle with gooseflesh.

  Hal pushed away from the wall. She reached out, cupping both Ellen’s breasts. Ellen’s head fell back, eyes closed. Hal’s palms were warm and rough, calloused from farm work. Her thumbs pressed on Ellen’s nipples, rubbing them and rolling them. Ellen did not know how she managed to stay upright. Her breath came in gasps. The muscles in her thighs were twitching. The pulse beat so hard in her stomach that her whole body shook.

  Hal’s hands slipped to Ellen’s waist. Deftly, she loosened the belt, and then eased the band over Ellen’s hips. The remainder of Ellen’s clothes landed around her ankles. Hal now stepped closer, enfolding Ellen in a firm embrace. The harsh texture of Hal’s work gear rubbed on Ellen’s skin, inflaming her, as did the touch of Hal’s hands, gently prising open the cleft of her backside and running her fingers inside.

  Ellen rested her forehead on Hal’s shoulder. “Please.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think I can stand up any longer.”

  “You don’t?” Hal laughed, making no attempt to stop her actions. Her fingers probed further, finding even more sensitive spots.

  Ellen could stay unmoving no longer. She clung to Hal, gasping. “Please.”

  Hal turned her head. Her lips brushed Ellen’s neck, followed by the light touch of teeth. Ellen’s left knee buckled. Only Hal’s support saved her from ending up on the floor.

  “Okay. You can go and lie down.” Hal stepped back, relea
sing her.

  Leaning down to loosen her boots would take more balance than Ellen could muster. Instead she dropped to her knees and then flopped back. Getting her ankles free of her clothes took an inordinate amount of effort, as if the material was fighting her. The few steps to the bed and pulling back the covers were a challenge, but then Ellen was able to roll onto the bed. She lay on her back, grateful that demands were no longer being made of her legs, and turned her head.

  Hal was completing the removal of her own boots. She sauntered across the room and mounted the bed.

  “What about your clothes?”

  “I’ll take them off when I’m ready. There’s no rush.”

  Hal prised Ellen’s legs apart, forced a knee between, and then sat astride her thigh. Ellen started to lever herself up, reaching out, intending to strip off Hal’s shirt, but her actions were clumsy with desire and easily outmaneuvered. Hal captured her wrists and pushed her back, pinning her to the bed.

  Ellen looked up at Hal, hanging over her. The light was dim, but not enough to hide the hunger in Hal’s expression, overlaying her normal smile. It was the hunger that turned Ellen’s bones to rubber. Even had she wanted to, Ellen could not have stopped Hal’s knee from pushing higher until it made hard contact with the apex of her legs.

  Hal’s farm clothes were thick, rough cloth. Every coarse fiber traced its own trail of dry friction. Ellen’s body arched out of her control. Every surge of her pulse magnified the effect of Hal’s knee, moving mere millimeters, and driving a storm through Ellen.

  The pressure inside Ellen was building to a climax, but then Hal’s knee was gone and her wrists were free. Ellen opened her eyes. She could not remember closing them. Hal knelt between her legs, staring at her. Ellen had never felt so utterly naked in her life as she did under Hal’s prolonged examination. The awareness honed the edge of her desire, sharpening it unbearably. Each second made the ache grow.

  “Please, Hal, can’t you—”

  “You want me to touch you?” The teasing tone had not left Hal’s voice. She reached out and placed one forefinger on the hood over Ellen’s clitoris. “Like this?”

  The air left Ellen’s lungs in a grunt.

  Hal’s finger traced a long, slow loop down between Ellen’s legs and back. “Or like this?” The finger again drifted down, but this time slowly slid into Ellen.

  Ellen could not have answered. A groan was torn from the back of her throat. In reflex, her head pressed back hard into the bed, lifting her shoulders.

  “Or like this?” The finger withdrew but then returned, forcefully, with company. Ellen cried out, in both surprise and passion, as Hal filled her.

  Hal’s fingers felt so good, entering her, stretching her, taking her. Each thrust of Hal’s hand went deeper than before. Ellen’s existence was distilled into the sensation of Hal inside her. Hal’s other hand pressed down on Ellen’s mound, holding her steady. Then Hal’s thumb brushed over Ellen’s clitoris. Ellen was beyond ready. On the third touch, her orgasm erupted.

  Ellen heard herself give voice, a shout high and long, ending in a long gasped hiss. I’m going to make you howl. Memory of the promise lurched through Ellen’s head. She had not regained her breath when Hal picked up the rhythm again.

  The waves of orgasm pounded over her, until her body was too weak to respond and she no longer had the breath to do more than whimper. And then the movement of Hal’s hand stopped. Slowly, gently, Hal pulled out of her. The feeling of emptiness was a shock in itself. Ellen gasped and opened her eyes. Hal still sat, fully clothed, watching her.

  The corner of Hal’s lips twitched. “You know, Jo was right. She wouldn’t be getting much sleep.”

  “I...er...it...” Ellen felt so good, she could not think of any words to string into a sentence.

  “Save your breath. You’re going to need it.”

  While Ellen watched, Hal loosened her top button and pulled her shirt off over her head. Her trousers followed in short order. Hal’s body looked the way it felt, sharply defined and well proportioned. Her breasts were small and tight, exactly the right shape to fit into the hollow of Ellen’s palms. Her hands ached to touch them. She tried to sit, but although her heartbeat was slowing, her body was too relaxed to be anything other than sluggish.

  “Stay where you are.” Hal’s tone was not as autocratic as before, but no less insistent, making it clear that she expected to be the one in control.

  Hal crawled up the bed, until she was beside Ellen’s head. In a quick movement, she straddled Ellen’s face. Her toes pressed against Ellen’s forearms. “Can you guess what I want you to do now?” She lowered herself onto Ellen.

  Ellen looked up, past the misting of hair, the beading of sweat on Hal’s flat stomach, the firm breasts, and met Hal’s eyes. Ellen opened her mouth and sucked Hal in.

  Her tongue dug deep, tasting Hal, slipping through folds of hot flesh, exploring the opening that clenched around her, and returning over and over to the hard knot of nerve endings. Ellen’s cheeks grew slick, coated in Hal’s wetness as she watched Hal’s body jerk in response to the dance of her tongue.

  Hal climaxed, her body rigid. A high keening broke from her, pulsing in time with the shudders racking her body, and then she sagged forward. For a moment, Hal was still and then she started to twist to the side, but Ellen was not ready to let her go. She curled her arms up, clamping then over Hal’s thighs and holding her in place. Again, Ellen set her tongue to work.

  In triumph, Ellen saw that Hal now had to lean on the wall to keep her balance, resting her head on her forearm. Hal was moaning, helpless. Hal was hers. She took Hal over the edge again and then a third time. When she finally released her grip, Hal fell to the bed, gasping. Ellen rolled over and hugged her.

  Eventually, Hal’s breathing eased, and her arms in turn tightened around Ellen. Without opening her eyes, a lazy grin spread across her face. “Good counterattack.”

  “I didn’t want you to have it all your own way.” Ellen felt Hal shake with weak laughter.

  “Ugh. My mouth’s dry.”

  “As you said, Jo wouldn’t be getting much sleep.”

  “Your legs are probably working better than mine at the moment. I think there’s some beer left in the flagon. Why don’t you go down and get it?”

  Ellen planted a quick kiss on Hal’s lips and then swung off the bed. She flexed her legs experimentally. They were not completely steady, but she thought they would be good to get her downstairs and back. “Okay.”

  As she reached the bedroom door, Hal spoke again. “And in the left-hand drawer of the dresser, there’s a large candle. You could bring that up as well.”

  Ellen nodded. Sunset was close and darkness in the room was thickening. “Should I light it off the stove, or do you have a flint up here?”

  Hal laughed. “Who said anything about lighting it? I haven’t finished with you yet.”

  *

  Ellen awoke on her back. She opened her eyes and lay staring at the ceiling. Her body felt heavy and relaxed. The twinge of a pulled muscle in her thigh produced nothing but a sense of contentment. The world was a wonderful place. The muted stinging across her back only made her smile broaden. It added sensation to the memory of exactly what she had been doing when Hal scratched her.

  Ellen rolled her head to the side. She studied Hal’s face on the pillow beside her. Even in sleep, Hal looked roguish. The laughter lines at either side of her mouth were too deeply etched to go away. Ellen took a long time, taking each feature in turn before she continued her inspection downward.

  The tendons in Hal’s neck stood out, crisply intersected by the sharp line of her collarbone. Ellen felt completely juvenile pleasure in spotting the marks she had left there. Below that, the bedclothes were suitably disheveled. The bits of Hal’s body on view were as she remembered, wiry with cleanly defined bone and muscle.

  Ellen rolled out of bed, went to the window, and pushed the shutters open. The sun was rising behind the house so no di
rect beams entered, but the sudden increase in light drew a groan from behind her. Ellen took a few seconds longer, considering the view over the farmyard to the paddocks beyond, and then sauntered back toward the bed.

  The flagon was on the chest. Ellen scooped it up in passing and took a sip. Unsurprisingly, the beer was now stale and flat, but the liquid was welcome, clearing her throat. She flexed the muscles in her neck and then swallowed another mouthful.

  “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who are disgustingly bouncy first thing in the morning.” Hal spoke without opening her eyes.

  Ellen laughed. “You mean you’re the sort who likes to imitate the walking dead for the first hour each day?”

  “Don’t mock. It’s not funny.” Hal groaned and lifted her arm. “What’s the beer like?”

  “Awful.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  Ellen made sure Hal was sitting upright and had both hands securely wrapped around the flagon before relinquishing her own hold. She rolled back onto the bed, stretching out beside Hal, with her head on the pillow.

  The vertebrae of Hal’s spine were perfectly defined between bands of muscle, as were her ribs and shoulder blades. Ellen noted that she had not inflicted similar scratches to those she had received—not that she had intended to. Then Ellen noted something else. A series of fine white scars were scored across Hal’s back, either twenty or thirty at a guess, knowing the magistrate’s love of round numbers. The lines were mostly parallel to each other, although some crossed in places. They were scars that Ellen recognized far better than she liked.

  The flogging of criminals was the part of being a Militiawoman Ellen enjoyed the least. Fortunately, both Roadsend magistrates preferred fines to the whip as a means of judicial punishment. Even so, Ellen had been required to assist on numerous occasions. When she was a rookie, she could not be called on to do more than assist. Now that she was a patrolwoman, she was not looking forward to the day when it would be her duty to wield the whip.

  Ellen ran her finger over the scars. “Er...”