Hellion (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 7)
Page 13
Hands on her waist she replied, "Indeed I shall not. I have told you how it will be. From now on it's one man and one woman." She stuck her chin in the air. "We are decided."
The bloody woman had roused the wives into rebellion the minute their backs were turned. He might have known this would happen. He knew she was dangerous, didn't he?
"One man for one woman. And you can all come, one at a time, and plead your case to the woman you love." With that she slammed the shutters closed.
But they could all hear the laughter going on inside.
Sal and his brothers were left on the other side of the gate, cursing and complaining.
* * * *
"Do you suppose they will break the gate down?" exclaimed Jeanne, her eyes large and pensive.
Helene sniffed, took an arrow from her quiver and readied it in her bow. "Let them try." She looked around at the other women. "We are decided in this, are we not? If you have any doubt, speak now."
They all looked most impressed with her. Cedney grinned as she examined the collection of weapons laid out of the table. "I'd say we're decided. Are we not, ladies? This has gone on long enough the way they like it. Now it's time we had things our way!"
One by one the women agreed. They all had one brother they loved and they were weary of pretending this arrangement suited them.
"When I first came, I was grateful for a roof over my head and escape from a cruel master. I would have done anything," said Princesa with a lusty sigh. "But I am older and wiser now. I want one husband, not seven."
They all nodded.
Helene smiled. "Good. Time for us to see how brave these fine warriors truly are."
* * * *
Dom stormed up and down before the gate, arms folded. "They really think they can hold us at bay. Have they been eating some of Jessamyn's seeds and lost their minds?"
"Pah! If this is the way they want it, we can find other wives who will be glad to come with us and live by our rules," said Sebastien, scowling as he propped his shoulder against the bars of the gate. "We've spoiled the wenches, that much is plain."
"Aye, we let them get away with too much."
"We don't need them! Leave them here."
"We'll find other women."
Thus they bolstered one another with noisy claims of not caring what happened, of not needing these particular women so much after all.
They rode back to their father's castellany where he laughed loudly at their predicament.
"I might have known you'd never keep those women in their place. It lasted longer than I expected, truth be told."
The brothers ranted and raved, protesting that they would never go back there and beg. But when the noise fell away, the silence of their wife-less house was just as deafening as their earlier bravado had been.
* * * *
The women sat around the fire and talked of their old lives. They were sad and thoughtful tonight. Those who had children were missing them. Apparently there were nursemaids to look after the babies at Guillaume's castle, and the woman knew their husbands would protect the children no matter what, but Helene worried that the tide would turn. She feared the wives would break down and rush back to the men, so she kept them well fed and their wine goblets filled.
"Don't give in," she urged. "Stay strong. We are women! God gave us the pain and struggle of childbirth because He knew we are the stronger sex."
Somehow she succeeded in keeping the wives resolved and occupied.
The stand-off lasted two days.
Chapter Fifteen
First came Nino.
With the women looking down on him from that window, he dropped to his knee in the yard and confessed his love for Jessamyn.
There followed Ram, for Jeanne, and Alonso for Isobel.
A half hour later came Raul for Princesa and Sebastien for Aelfa.
Finally Cedney and Helene were left standing at the window.
Dominigo paced in a circle before he eventually got up the courage to plead for Cedney.
"I am tempted to make him wait," she whispered to Helene, "But look at him. Is he not the handsomest man that ever lowered his pride for a woman?"
Helene nodded and laughed, but she knew there was one still to come. The handsomest in her eyes. The man for whom she'd done all this.
* * * *
Sal waited until his brothers had all said their piece.
By then Helene stood alone at the window, her pert face glowering down at him, a bow and arrow raised in readiness to fire if he made the slightest wrong move.
"Well, Hellion, you got your way. One man for one woman. Content now?"
She arched an eyebrow. "Almost."
Ah, of course, she wanted him on his knees. He looked around and saw his brothers grinning, the wives cheering him on.
All this brought about because of one wretched, haughty wench.
He should never have given her those few extra feet of field. Now look what she'd ended up taking.
His heart.
Slowly he dropped to his knee and grimaced. "Marry me, Hellion."
"Just you?"
"Just me."
Helene lowered her bow. "Very well. I suppose I must. I don't know why you couldn't have asked me six months ago and saved a great deal of time."
But he knew why of course. Because she scared the Beelzebub out of him.
She probably always would.
* * * *
Thus the two manors of Salvador d'Anzeray and Helene de Leon were joined to make one. The long-missing deeds that could never be found when Robert Calledaux needed evidence to back up his claim and get the demon d'Anzeray chased off the land were suddenly discovered, hidden under a board in Helene's bed. She declared herself innocent of any deception and since she was known to be such a pious, good woman no one doubted her. Why would she not have used them to rid herself of Salvador d'Anzeray long before, if she knew where those deeds were?
Helene did not have everything her way, however. She was still obliged to submit to the ritual public branding that marked her as a member of the d'Anzeray family. Comforted by a cup of special wine, she was laid out in the yard of his father's castellany, her legs spread, her shaved pussy exhibited for the eyes of all those who watched the ceremony. There Sal seared her flesh, just to the left of her vulva, with the small mark of a rampant lion. She heard the distant shouts and cheers as he pressed that brand to her skin and even as a sharp pain reached through the fog of Jessamyn's herbal potion, she felt her pussy squeezing and she came in a burst, her naughty dew trickling down, much to the delight of her new husband, who quickly bent to soothe her with his mouth.
In the years that followed, Helene helped her husband to write his own family's history. It was the best they could do to refute the claims of that bitter monk Herallt and his chronicle.
* * * *
Oh, and Herallt? What became of him, you ask? He was found one summer evening, dead at his writing desk. It was, in fact, the same night that Guillaume d'Anzeray took his last breath on earth; the same summer that Salvador married Helene.
Although it was never known how the monk met his end, it was said that a strange powder of crushed seeds was found on his desk, under his fingernails and on his lips where he —or some unknown intruder—seemed to have smeared it in a strange frenzy.
All around his small chamber candle flames fluttered and spun and stretched. The wax had burned down almost to the nub by the time his corpse was found, but despite the wild breeze that blew powdered seeds across his parchment, those candles continued to burn.
Perhaps it was merely coincidence that there were seven.
"From the devil they came and to the devil they will return"
- Herallt, a medieval chronicler, describes the house of d'Anzeray.
Yes, he bore a grudge.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Georgia Fox has lived in many different places, including a canal boat, but sadly never in a windmill or a lighthouse. Maybe that's next! She loves good company, spicy food, thought-provoking erotica and excellent brandy. She also enjoys pushing the boundaries.
In her life she’s done a little bit of everything and somehow lived to tell the tales. Except those she's legally bound not to spill - for now.
She doesn’t believe in fairies, ghosts, flying saucers or conspiracy theories.
But she still believes in love.
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