How to Marry Your Wife

by Stella Marie Alden

  “You will scream for me. Beg me to enter. Shiver in want. Because that’s how I’ve felt for years. You’re so, so, beautiful, my lady.”

  She giggled. “A mud-troll rolling in a fur? Truly?”

  God, how he’d missed her wit. “Come here little trolly-troll. I believe you’re my wife under all that mud. Only spearing your cave shall turn you back into my beautiful wife. But I must first perform my magic.” He kissed her smiling mouth and with one hand brought her chilled body into his. “Are all trolls so cold?”

  “I don’t know, I’ve never slept with one.” She wrapped her legs around him.

  His breath warmed her ear. “Have you slept with anyone, Merry, mine, while I was gone?”

  “Not a one.”

  He moaned and sank deep into her. “It’s time to remedy that.”

  A crunching noise outside the cave made him stop, he cursed, and pulled out. Dashing across the room in one move, he retracted his sword from his belt and peered out into the blackness. “Douse the fire.”

  Chapter 17

  “Sir Thomas?” Jacob’s black features could not be distinguished as he emerged from the bushes, not even lit by the half moon. The rest of the men must’ve wisely stayed behind, deeper in the forest.

  “I should gut you from chin to cock for your unholy timing.” Thomas ducked back into the cave and covered his nakedness with an undershirt, while Merry donned his Templar tunic, cheeks aflame.

  “Stay put.” He ran back outside with sword raised, just in case.

  “How say you?” Tensed, he waited for the words of all clear. If not, how many would he need to kill before this night was over?

  “I say the jay’s screech their pleasure.” Jacob stepped forward with sword sheathed and right hand outstretched in greeting.

  Letting out his breath, Thomas slapped his first in command on the back. Thank God. “How long were you out here?”

  “Long enough. Did you finish the deed?” Jacob’s white teeth and the whites of his eyes glowed.

  “Oh, for the love of all things holy. I heard a noise and thought we were in danger. So, no, I’m not done. I’m a God-forsaken ox in heat.”

  Jacob gave him a push toward the cave. “Finish up. We’ll wait.”

  “The mood is ruined for her as you well know. Give us a moment and then you may enter, but only if you brought excellent food in return for my forgiving nature. I may slay you yet, you heathen bastard.”

  “Will venison do?” He whistled and men emerged from the forest.

  Inside the cave, Merry fashioned a belt of rags to keep his Templar colors from dragging on the ground. She refused to meet his eyes as she stirred the soup so vigorously, it sloshed over the sides.

  He lifted her chin. “What’s this? Tears?

  “I fear we’re cursed,” she whispered with a little sob. “Again, I’m left with a wanting so cruel. There’s nary a place in my body that does not ache to be touched by you. And now? Our cave is full of your good men, whom I’d like to kill with my bare hands around their thick necks.”

  Thomas chuckled. “I could make them wait miles away, if needs be.”

  Ignoring his offer, she took the venison chunks brought by Simon and placed them into the pot with care. “No, no. We should eat.”

  Smiling, he kissed her and pulled her to his chest. His not yet deflated cock echoed her frustration. “Next time, I promise it will be perfect. Come, there’s nothing to be done except greet my men and share a fine meal. We’re safer with their protection. I shouldn’t have started what I did when I should’ve been guarding you. Jacob was righteous with his interruption.”

  When all nine of his men were fully sated with venison and mushroom soup, Thomas asked the question that’d been on his lips since he’d first seen Jacob emerge from the woods. “How the blazes can a barefooted woman find and rescue me long before you?”

  Jacob coughed and squirmed, Peter kicked at the dirt, and the rest of the men refused to meet his stony gaze.

  Philippe, today the bravest, cleared his throat and stood tall. “We saw you ride off upon Demon, throwing up sod and the like. We figured you’d want to take the Scot without our help, so we rode off seeking the rest.”

  “And how did you not notice my body? The body that was laid across the back of my horse? Or the hole in the ground next to where I buried Merry? Did nothing smell amiss?” Are all my men idiots?

  At that, his wife’s face scrunched up and she opened her mouth, but Thomas put his finger to her lips. “Not yet, if you please.”

  He put his hands on his hips, stood, and stared. “So while your leader was swept away, you drank yourself into oblivion? Don’t deny it. I smell it.”

  “After we lost the trail of the scoundrels, we thought she were dead and we all were most aggrieved. Happy we are to find you cozied up in a cave, with Sir Merry-the-Liberator.” Harold-the-Elder stood, winked, and bowed.

  Merry grinned back and bowed, too. So enthused, the rest of his men jumped to their feet and gave the courtliest of bows, each one outdoing the prior, in depth and length, until Josiah-the-wolf was forced to bend upon knee as if she were the Pope. There they stayed, bowed, bent, and waiting.

  She held back a laugh with a fist to her mouth and eyes glinting with amusement. “What do I do now? They can’t stay like this forever.”

  He frowned and glared. His men knew better.

  A tiny snort burst forth from her and laughter bubbled out like a fountain. “Oh, for the love of all things holy. Release them before they fall down.”

  “Not yet. I may hold them here in penance for the rest of their drunken days.”

  She smirked. “But they did find us and bring us food. Tell me, is my bag of possessions still with you, or did you sell it for more mead?”

  Josiah muttered to her foot, still upon bended knee. “It’s still there, m’lady. For none of us had the heart to remove it. We truly were remorseful when we thought it were your body all tore up like that. We was supposed to be guarding you.”

  “All tore up? Me? Of what do they speak?”

  Thomas shot Josiah his shut-it look, but it was wasted as he still stared at the ground. Damn the man. “How about I help you find your tunic and a stream to wash in?”

  “Ahem?” Jacob, still bent at the waist, turned his head.

  “Very well. You may rise, all ye horse’s arses. Only because I need you to guard the cave, and not a one of you had better let even an eyelid droop. Nor should I hear a snore. Nor even relaxed breath. In fact, ye all better be standing. All night, if I so decide.”

  Josiah sung out in a bass voice as he stood, “Nor hear a snore.”

  Harold was next with a fine tenor, “Nary a snore, nor a coin for the poor.”

  “Nor the tit of a whore.”

  “Nor the balls of a boar.”

  Thomas moaned, pulled Merry off her feet, and put a hand to her back. “Best we be off for a quick rinse in the river. This could go on for hours.”

  She wobbled and would’ve fallen, had he not caught her. “I fear my legs refuse to budge. Can you abide by Sir Muddy-Merry for just one more night? I need to rest.”

  “Forgive me, sweet trolly. Of course. Rest. I will be your lady-in-waiting.”

  A smile cracked dirt upon her cheek as he gathered her into his arms and rested her near the fire upon his cloak. He turned up an edge, covered her, and kissed those perfect lips. “Sleep well.”

  The tiniest of snores indicated she’d heard nothing. He shook his head at her ability to sleep through such circumstances.

  Chapter 18

  Duncan spat upon the accursed English ground at the next fork in the road. He sneezed, wiped snot away with the edge of his sleeve, and ached for the rocky hills of the north where clean air blew off the ocean. “We should leave Dougal-the-Mad here and head home.”

  His youngest brother was but a dark shadow when he dismounted close by. His bright eyes shone as he searched the brush for broken branches under the deep
oaks. “Och, we could, but the whole clan believes that Da’ truly lives on inside his head. If they found out we left the old laird here, we’d be cast out—or worse.”

  “We’re as daft as him if we continue to swear fealty to his mad thoughts and Annandale’s schemes. We should be home asleep, next to our bonnie wives, nae here on foreign soil.” Mud, mold, and other unseen forest vapors filled his next inhale. He spat, mounted, and sneezed again. His charger shifted and ears went back when a furry creature dashed under a rock.

  Brian quieted the horse with a pat to the nose, then poked at the dung in the road for signs of the English knights. “I agree that he should nae have attacked D’Agostine, without first testin’ his mettle.”

  “Well, praise and glory be to you for bringin’ it up now. Why didn’t ye stop him?”

  “And why didn’t you? You’re the next in line, yet you fear him as much as the rest. Hold a moment. I see the trail. This way.” Brian mounted and hooted twice, then took the left side of the fork.

  An owl hooted back, winked its yellow eyes, and leaves rustled overhead as it took flight. Duncan crossed himself and his two brothers followed suit. Bad luck followed them yet again. It would continue to do so until his elder brother lay in the grave with their hopefully forever silent father.

  Leigh, the next youngest of his siblings, rode forward. “The hired men hear your never-endin’ quarrelin’. ’Tis no good comes of it. What’s done is done. We’re lucky our bodies are not out rottin’ in the field with the rest. We need to get Dougal back home before Edward gets wind of what we’ve done.”

  It was futile in the dark, but nonetheless Duncan glared at his naïve younger brothers. “We’ve warred with D’Agostine’s knights. How long do you suppose it’ll be before Edward sends word to Alexander what we’re about? Then what? We’ll lose our heads for sure. We need to head north. You think Annandale will confess his treachery?”

  Brian’s loud voice scattered more creatures and his charger nickered its discontent. “Damn Edward, damn Alexander, and damn Annandale. The D’Agostines have nae right to that land. ’Tis north of the Hadrian marker. All know those lands are Scot.”

  “The English call it No-Man’s-Land. Disputed.” Leigh moved his mount next to Brian as Duncan pulled back on the narrow road to allow them to continue their conversation without him. It was way past time for his brothers to think like warriors, nae quarrel like children.

  Brian’s red head caught a sliver of moonlight. “No matter. It damn well is nae Norman. How dare the English give it away as a gift to those haughty bastards?”

  Duncan couldn’t help but add his farthing’s worth. “A clever move, I’d say, isn’t it? Norman knights watchin’ their English borders?”

  “Och, aye and we’ve looked away for far too long. You want to go home and let a new Norman bastard take up where the auld left off? Leavin’ Scot slaves in mud huts, workin’ them to death? I say kill him, his wife, and heir, then be off.” Despite the dangerous darkness, Brian put a spur to his charger.

  Leigh followed at a slower pace. Duncan rode behind the entire entourage, including their newly acquired soldiers, and smiled as the perfect plan took place in his head.

  Chapter 19

  Demon nickered, Merry’s stomach grumbled, and she slowly opened her eyes. Chuckling, Thomas entered the cave wearing only a light dusting of black hair over his naked body. His tanned wide chest was lined with white scars where his enemy’s weapons had pierced him. A dark mass of curls circled his manly rod. She squirmed and her mouth dropped open.

  He gave a little grin, no doubt because she was drooling. “Troll is gone and replaced with wife?”

  She started to say no, but the creases in her body were no longer caked in mud. With a twist, she brought elbow to nose. The former dirty scratches on her arms were clean and dressed. “But how?”

  Tiny crinkles graced her husband’s eyes and a hint of a dimple appeared on one cheek. He glided to her with the grace of a large cat. “Apparently, trolls sleep as if amongst the dead when they’re weary.”

  An unknown chemise of the deepest blue draped her body when she sat upright. Caressing fabric clung to her as if alive. She fingered the rare material and it shimmered and slid off her hand. “You washed me, then dressed me in silk?”

  “Just enough to make sure your wounds were tended and you stayed warm.” Thomas stared at the tips of her breasts, which puckered even more at his attention. The area between her legs twitched, pulsed, and grew damp. Her voice didn’t sound familiar when she gulped and rasped, “Where’re your men?”

  “I’ve sent them off, scouting the area. We need to make sure no one is looking for the mad warrior.” In one hand, he held aloft a linen square and in the other he held what appeared to be a glorious bar of soap.

  He dunked the cloth in the soup pot that steamed over the fire. “As your lady-in-waiting, I must attend your needs.”

  “With soup?” She ducked under her covers.

  He snickered. “No, you daft troll-y troll. Warm water.” With a quick tug, he removed his great cloak that had been acting as her blanket.

  She squealed and curled into a ball. “It’s cold out here.”

  In one move, he straddled her. Firm inner thighs held tight the outside of her legs. His swollen pintle poked on the silk nearest to where she ached.

  “Ah, troll. I see you’ve once more taken over my wife’s body and more magic is needed.”

  She giggled as he muzzled her mouth with a warm wet cloth. He washed around her neck and behind her ears. “Trolly, troll. You like that, do you?”

  Nodding, she locked onto his hungry gaze. Lips brushed against hers repeatedly until she held onto the back of his head to take it deeper. Tongues sparred. He groaned and tugged at her new silk shift. She needed to help it off by lifting her hips. Where her feet met rock, she gasped at the shooting pain.

  With a frown, he shifted down her body on hands and knees. His tongue laved her navel on the way. He opened her legs, kissed her inner thigh, and lifted her foot to his eye.

  “I’ll be right back. You may not walk again upon them, until I say so.”

  A greasy salve, smelling of cloves, eased the soreness.

  She lifted up onto her elbows and gave him a grin between her knees. “You’ll keep me on my back, good sir?

  “Aye, that I will, sweet troll. Until we reach Scotland.” He crawled forward over her body, leaned upon his forearms, and kissed her with a need that matched her own. When they came up for air, he knelt, put the rag back in the water, and rubbed it with soap.

  Inside the sensitive area between her legs, he washed until a moan escaped her. He studied the still red marks between her legs. “Do they hurt, sweet Sir Merry, my brave knight-wife?

  She widened her hips and arched up. “The only hurt will be you, if you do not continue with my bath, so that we may continue with the rest.”

  He smiled and his chest hairs tickled as he moved along her body. “Rest? You wish to rest?”

  “Pest. I said you’re a pest.” His naked skin was surprisingly soft as her palms explored his back and buttocks.

  When he suckled a nipple, she dug her fingernails into his scalp. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he moaned as his thick rod pulsed against her wet folds and entered.

  Two sharp whistles, the sound of swords, and Thomas spat out words in an unfamiliar language. He withdrew and jumped to his feet in one fluid motion, grabbed his sword, and ran out the cave entrance, “Get dressed, then to the back of the cave as far as it will go. Anon! We’re under attack.”

  She found her knife sheath and rushed bare-arsed into the darkness. On and on she ran, until she realized she’d gone quite deep. Damnation. She’d no idea from whence she’d come. Cursing all the saints, starting with the letter A, Merry descended further into the cave as the sounds of battle diminished. Better to be lost than found.

  “Merry? Are you back there? Merry! Answer me.”

  “I’m
here. Keep talking. I’ll come to you.” Her faint voice echoed from deep within the pitch-black caverns.

  He stepped forward into the cave until the light from the entrance was but a pin’s point. He shouted, “Are you unharmed?”

  “Harmed-armed-armed.” echoed back.

  She cursed. “Aye. Bat-at-at.”

  “But what-t-t?” Silence. “Merry-ry-ry?”

  “I said bat-t-t. Bat shit. Everywhere. Eww.” She suddenly exited from the darkness and he jumped.

  His pintle stood straight up as he wrapped her naked body into his. Were it not for his injured men, he’d take her right here and finish what they’d started. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye. Can you find me a tunic?”

  He ran to the pit, grabbed her clothes, and returned. Once dressed in her silk and his Templar tunic, she limped with him back into the open cave where they’d lain together. Jacob sat by the fire, stitching a bloody gash in Harold’s chin.

  “What in the world happened?” Her gaze wandered throughout the cave and out the entrance.

  Jacob glanced up. “Whilst we fought, others freed the madman. Then they all ran off. But mark my words, we’ll find them and crush them.”

  Thomas frowned and wiped dark red from his sword before sheathing it. Not so long ago, he’d lain rocks over a gory mess, thinking it was his Merry. It was good to be reminded how evil the men they killed.

  She put a hand to his cheek. “Were any others harmed?”

  He kissed her fingers, interlaced them with his own, and calmed. “No. But we should leave this place before they return. We’ll need to find a friendly keep to hold up while we wait for Marcus.

  Her lower lip trembled. “Scarborough is but a day’s ride. I can gain us access if you’d like.”

  Her hand was cold as ice, dark rings circled her sunken eyes, and she was again, covered in filth. Hell’s balls. What kind of husband let a wife come to such a state? “Explain quickly.”