by Sahara Kelly
“For now.”
The dark one almost whispered the words, and Linnet could feel Mechele tremble beside her.
She grabbed Mechele’s elbow and pulled her away, returning to the house in almost unseemly haste. These two were much too disturbing for her peace of mind, and Mechele seemed affected too.
Damn, damn and damn. Another complication they could both have done very well without.
Chapter 4
For the next few days, two battle-hardened men found muscles they had forgotten they’d possessed, as the Maltby Abbey estate required much hard manual labor.
“By the Saints,” hissed Guy one night, sinking neck deep into the small pool they’d found and appropriated as their bath.
Gilles simply groaned.
They’d plowed and mucked and fed and watered, fixed an elderly hand pump so that water flowed once more near the main house, and today, to add insult to injury, they’d been set to weeding the vegetable and herb garden. For the two tall men the constant bending had been agony. They were now sore, tired, a little warm from the constant heat of the sun on their bare backs, and very much irritated.
For they’d seen scarcely a hair of the two women who had brought them here in the first place.
“I would sorely like to have Mistress Mechele scrubbing my back right at this moment,” muttered Guy as he rubbed at his skin with a handful of leaves.
“I’d rather have Mistress Linnet rubbing my front,” grinned Gilles. “With hers. Naked.”
The latter comment was unnecessary, since Guy had met that wicked smile with one of his own. “It’s good we have different goals, my friend, but methinks it’s past time when we set a few plans in motion to attain those goals.”
Gilles nodded emphatically. “I swear if I catch sight of her skirts as she darts around a corner one more time, I’m going to come in my breeches from the wanting,” he agreed. “Such a fine figure of a woman, that Linnet. All cold and busy on the surface, but I’ll bet you my best warhorse that she’s fire beneath the covers.”
“And I’m thinking that coy and maidenly Mistress Mechele has passion buried inside her that would burn a man’s hands. And his lips, and his…”
Two cocks stirred in spite of the cold bath their owners were enduring.
“Have you noticed that even though we’ve had no chance to talk with them, they do seem to be around where we are working? An awful lot, I’d say, considering they have the responsibility of running this place?” Guy curved his lips as his words fell softly across the darkness between them.
“Indeed I have, Guy. Indeed I have.” Gilles also smiled. “Perhaps the ladies are not as uninterested in us as they would like us to believe?”
Guy snorted. “With all modesty, my friend, how could they not be? We’ve met just about every man here, and there’s none I’d consider worthy bedmates for those two maids.”
“Yes. Perhaps they are indeed ripe for the plucking. And I, for one, would like to remove Mistress Linnet’s feathers.”
“Well, at least we’ve had chance to cover the estate over these past few days. What would you say about Lymington’s complaints?”
Gilles pursed his lips as he thought about Guy’s question. “Tidy, well run, the crops seem to be in fine fettle. I’d say that perhaps Lymington has a valid point about their tribute. But there’s something that doesn’t sit right with me about Lymington and his words.”
“Me neither.”
Both men fell silent, prey to their individual thoughts, until the cold water began to chill even their solid flesh.
“Let’s head back, Gilles. We’ve been gone long enough.” Guy stepped from the water, shaking himself free of the clinging droplets.
Gilles laughed as he did the same. “I swear the farm hands think we’re up to no good with our nightly baths. ‘Heathen habits’…” he mimicked, repeating the words of not a few of their fellow workers, who couldn’t understand the practice of immersing one’s entire body in water.
“The concept of cleanliness seems to spread far too slowly for my liking,” agreed Guy. “I swear some think we creep away for an assignation. Probably with each other.”
Gilles blanched. “By the Saints, do you think so? That will sit poorly with our hostesses.”
Guy choked back a laugh. “My friend, I think we need have no fears on that score.”
Their voices were quiet and nearly drowned by the noise of the water as it babbled around them.
“In fact, we might just want to make sure. I feel eyes watching right this moment.” He dropped the cloth he’d been using to wipe away the water, and stretched, letting the moonlight brush his nakedness and his cock, which was standing away from his body now, in semi arousal.
“You felt it too?” answered Gilles softly. “Perhaps you have the right of it.”
He also took care not to hide his body as he dried it slowly, being careful to make sure that anyone watching from a nearby location could get a good eyeful of his personal assets.
“That should do the trick,” grunted Guy, reaching for his breeches.
“I surely hope so. I tire of this waiting and working game. It’s time for us to claim our dues, I think. And I’d prefer a pot of honey to a pot of gold.”
With a smothered laugh, the men strode back to the stables, and their uncomfortable beds amidst the stored hay.
* * * * *
Two pairs of eyes closed simultaneously as the men walked away from them.
Two almost identical sighs issued from two sets of lips, and Linnet and Mechele held on to each other, neither sure if their legs would support them.
“Did you see…?” breathed Mechele.
“Did I ever,” sighed Linnet.
“So fine. Such bodies.”
“Such upstanding cocks. Dear heavens above, I’m aching for want of some of that deep inside me.”
Mechele stifled a giggle. “Please don’t tell me you’re talking about Guy. I want him so bad I swear I can taste him already.”
Linnet sagged in relief. “No, sweetheart. ‘Tis Gilles who sends these stupid shivers to my knees. Let’s hope the gentlemen are of a like mind.”
The two girls took a different path back to Maltby, avoiding the stables and the two men by mutual consent.
“They have worked hard, have they not?” Linnet’s question broke the silence.
“Indeed they have. I’m surprised to find how little they’ve complained, and how much they’ve done,” answered Mechele. “Truly, in these few short days, much more has been accomplished than I could have hoped.”
“And we’ve had no more little disasters, either,” mused Linnet.
“Somehow, I doubt that those two would resort to trickery, Linnet,” said Mechele.
Linnet chuckled. “Are you saying that because you would like to keep them around for a while to help with the work? Or because you’d hate to think ill of someone you desperately want between your thighs?”
Mechele answered with a chuckle of her own. “A little of both, I suppose.”
“Well, I confess, I cannot believe that Gilles would act in an underhanded manner. It must be something in his eyes. They look…honest.”
“And very blue,” teased Mechele.
Linnet sighed. “Yes. So very very blue.”
The two women silently entered their home and each bid the other goodnight.
There were four restless bodies at Maltby Abbey that night, though none knew that their fevered and sensual restlessness was echoed by another.
But nor could any of the four suppress the hope that events might just conspire to bring them together and relieve their longings.
* * * * *
The next day was Saturday, a day that Maltby Abbey used for easier chores, in order to lighten the workload and help their tenants relax their hearts and minds in preparation for the Sabbath day to follow.
Guy and Gilles had been sent to the river, with instructions to examine the stone walls that formed a small dam in one area
, and to check the workings of the little waterwheel attached to the barn which provided the power to grind their wheat.
The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, and both men were happy to do this particular job, stripping off their shirts and merrily wading through the shallow waters as they ran knowledgeable fingers across the joints looking for weaknesses.
Gilles loved the water, and playfully splashed around, enjoying the moment in his own way.
Guy was fascinated by the workings of the mill and several times nearly lost his hand to the steadily turning wheel.
“All seems well from here,” he called.
“Here too,” answered Gilles, emerging breathless from beneath the water where he’d sunk to observe the lower stone foundations.
“Perhaps this is not such a hard job after all,” chuckled Guy, shaking his wet black hair out of his eyes. “Wonderful things, water wheels.”
The two men shared an identical grin.
A sudden shout caught their attention and drew their eyes downstream.
“Careful, Linnet. Damnation. There she goes…”
More shouts followed, and Guy raised an eyebrow at his friend in query.
“By all means, Guy. Let us find out what all this noise is about.”
Following the sounds of crashing brush and girlish calls, the two men found themselves on the banks of the river, some way past the dam, where the water slowed and the shallows were quite muddy.
Stepping stones forded the stream at this point, leading from the bank upon which they stood to the meadow on the opposite side.
“There…there…I see her…” Linnet was pointing excitedly at something on the other bank.
“Good day, Mistresses. May we be of assistance?”
Guy’s deep voice froze the two women who turned with identical expressions on their faces.
Gilles felt his gut clench as the sunlight dappled across Linnet’s face. Their eyes clashed and he drew a breath. By the Saints, she was a beauty. The exercise had brought a flush to her cheeks and her breasts were heaving with exertion. He couldn’t suppress the thought that this was how she would look when they loved. And by God, they would love.
He knew it all the way down to his toes.
“‘Tis that damn…dratted ewe, Guy,” said Mechele, apparently busy drowning in Guy’s stare. “She manages to ford the river here and gets into that meadow where she has no right to be.”
Guy’s eyes flickered briefly over Linnet, then returned to Mechele. “And that is a problem because…”
“The field is full of clover.” Linnet spoke directly to Gilles. His heart settled into a steady, if accelerated, beat. She wanted him. She was all but ignoring Guy, and concentrating on him.
The lines had been drawn and the opponents selected. It was very close to time for their loving joust to begin.
He wrenched his thoughts from between Linnet’s thighs and managed to squeeze a few words past a parched throat. “Clover? That’s not good for sheep, is it?”
“Certainly not,” snapped Mechele. “Too much grazing and she’ll bloat, and she’s one of our best ewes. ‘Twould be a sad loss for our flock.”
“Then we must see what we can do to help.” Gilles’ statement set both girls back slightly, as it was spoken with calm authority and confidence.
“You two?” Mechele all but snorted in disbelief.
Guy bridled at that. “Madam, we have tilled your fields, become closely acquainted with your livestock, especially that foul-tempered sow of yours, and even weeded your bloody garden. Surely the recapture of one sheep is within our abilities?”
“Or perhaps you doubt our…abilities?”
The hesitation was deliberate. Gilles wanted desperately to make Linnet aware of him as a man. Or increase her awareness as the case may be.
His words seemed to do the trick, as the color mounted on Linnet’s cheeks and she dropped her gaze.
“We do not doubt either of you, Gilles. But a sheep is often hard to catch,” muttered Mechele, still looking fixedly at Guy.
“Then let us show you how it should be done.”
With those words, both Guy and Gilles strode to the edge of the waters and surveyed the stepping stones that would lead them to the other side and one misbehaving sheep.
A loud bleat betrayed the runaway’s location, and Guy stepped unhesitatingly out onto the stones.
Gilles was but a pace behind him.
“Be careful,” called Mechele. “Those stones are very slip…”
A loud curse and a huge splash interrupted her words, as Guy lost his footing and stumbled backwards, landing flat on his back in the mud of the slow flowing waters.
“…pery.”
A second later Gilles, unable to stop himself, fell face down alongside his friend.
There was total silence for a few awed moments as Linnet and Mechele stood, stunned, looking at two soaked men, covered in mud, sprawled in their stream.
Then the giggles began.
Doing her best to keep a straight face, Linnet clamped her thighs together as the laughter built, unable to suppress the feeling that her bladder was going to let go at any moment if she didn’t release her mirth.
She gasped, choked and burst out into laughter, joined immediately by Mechele.
The two women clung to each other, almost weeping at the sight. Peals and gusts of merriment rang around the ears of two very wet, irritated, and embarrassed men, sitting in a mud puddle.
Between her guffaws, Linnet eyed Gilles as he sat up, wringing mud from his hair and swishing it away from his hands and face.
Guy was in even worse condition. Covered from head to foot in the sloppy stuff, he was dousing his head in order to clear his eyes.
“I’m glad we have brought smiles to your faces, ladies,” called Gilles, his blue eyes twinkling.
“Indeed, Gilles, there is nothing so pleasing as hearing such lovely ladies laugh. Even though it is at our misfortune.” Guy’s tones were amused.
Linnet coughed back another chuckle and straightened herself, held once more by that vivid blue gaze.
“My apologies. We certainly didn’t mean to make a jest out of your accident, but, oh my goodness…” She giggled again. “You do look funny.”
That was all it took to set the girls off again into another round of helpless, teary-eyed wails of laughter.
Guy and Gilles shot a quick look at each other. “Perhaps the ladies are a mite too clean this morning—and overheated too. I should hate for them to suffer a seizure from all this unbridled mirth,” said Guy suggestively.
“You read my mind. Perhaps we should cool them down a bit,” answered Gilles, plunging his hand down beside him and grabbing a nice plump ball of sloppy mud.
Linnet wiped her eyes and squared her shoulders, fighting to regain her customary aplomb.
She turned and met a flying missile head on. With a gasp she lowered her eyes and saw a huge mass of mud sliding from her breastbone down over the front of her gown.
A cry from Mechele came almost immediately.
She was now wearing the latest in country hair accessories—a similar daub of mud trickled over one ear.
Linnet’s blood was up. “Why you…”
She stumbled down the bank, kicking off her slippers. Within seconds she’d armed herself from the edge of the water and had returned the shot, catching Gilles by surprise and landing right on target. That damnably attractive chest of his.
Mechele had done likewise, and having a very good eye indeed, caught Guy smack in the neck.
The battle had begun.
The first shots found their mark and left a lasting impression on both sides. The girls found a convenient spot to reload, swiping handfuls of the gooey stuff and flinging it with unerring accuracy.
Guy grinned through the grime. This was his kind of battle.
He and Gilles moved through the waters, away from their attackers, yet keeping close enough to their own armory of mud.
He tempere
d his shots, not wanting to inflict any harm on Mechele’s soft body, yet itching to see her wet, her gown clinging to her breasts, and crying mercy as he conquered her.
No wait, that was in bed. This was in the mud.
He shook his head to clear it and returned to the fray, landing a very nice shot indeed on her curvaceous backside as she unwisely turned away from him to gather another missile.
He grinned. Now this was a lot more fun than mucking out the pigsty.
Within moments, everyone was almost unrecognizable, with the women covered from head to foot in brown wet mud stains, and the men sporting similar attire. Of course, with their bare chests, they were less affected, and could rinse the damned stuff off with a quick splash.
Unthinkingly, the women had stepped into the edges of the water, and as if in concert, both Guy and Gilles moved closer to them, still armed and wary, but panting now with the exhilaration of the fight.
“Do you cry surrender?” asked Gilles, grinning from ear to ear.
“Never, sir,” answered Linnet with a challenging glint in her eye.
“But I will ask for a pause to catch my breath,” chuckled Mechele. “My ribs are aching from laughing so much.”
Guy’s harsh features took on a wicked gleam. “Well, we have to confess to having seriously damaged your gowns. Perhaps we can help you with that…”
He splashed through the water and before she could catch her breath, had picked up Mechele and carried her back out into the stream.
Gilles neared Linnet.
“Oh no…” she said, holding out a hand to stay him.
“Oh yes, Linnet…” he said, eyes intent.
Struggling and kicking helplessly against the arms of iron that held them, both girls found themselves carried to a deeper and quieter part of the waters, shaded by overhanging willows.
“Well now, Guy, it would seem that these ladies need a good bath.” Gilles grinned cheekily at his friend.
“My thoughts exactly, Gilles.”
