Catherine shook her head.
“It is my choice who I marry, and how I lead my life,” she insisted, hoisting her rounded chin for emphasis. “And although I do indeed love Gerald, I well love you as well. And, for that matter, I have an equitable love for the arts. I wish to continue my painting and embroidery, and for that matter to travel England. I wish to go to court and sit at the queen’s feet, to bask in her strength and endless wisdom, and—furthermore—to shamelessly copy her every word and deed. I desire to be a great woman of my time, in the likeness of her majesty Queen Elizabeth I—not just somebody’s wife.”
“And I, milady, would not have ye in any other fashion.”
Catherine and Gaston froze as one, stilling their mounts as a third commanding voice permeated their spirited conversation.
Catherine knew immediately the smooth, lushly accented tone that resounded from just behind them; and although it was a voice she knew and loved, an ethereal tone that made her pulse thrum and her heart race with the fondest love, it was in fact the last sound that she wished to hear at this point.
“Gerald,” she greeted him, turning her blissfully oblivious horse in her fiancé’s direction as she and her knight exchanged uneasy looks. “What are ye doing here?”
Her fiancé, cutting a splendid figure dressed in a sleek scarlet tunic and tight ebony pantaloons, sat astride the lovely ivory steed she identified as Beausoleil; a magnificent beast that seemed to issue a haughty snort in her direction as his owner mirrored the sound.
“Funny I should meet ye here,” he sniffed, pinning his intended with a sardonic grin, one that never failed to annoy her to no end. “As quickly as ye ran away from me, I thought ye would be home by now—or mayhap at the queen’s palace, trying to stage a coup of our land.”
Catherine cleared her throat.
“I was not running from ye,” she insisted, adding as she spread her sturdy arms in a broad, expressive gesture, “I was running toward myself, Gerald. I do not wish to surrender my interests, my passions, my very life as I have lived and enjoyed it to this point, to retire and become little more than the lady of your castle.”
Gerald sighed.
“Why, love, did ye not speak to me of this last night at the feast? I would have told ye that I do not expect ye to change one bit in the wake of our wedding ceremony. I wish for ye to continue painting, knitting, travelling, and doing whatever ye please—and, with your kind permission, I would love to do all these same things (yea, even the embroidery—I have sat long at my mother’s loom and often harbored a secret curiosity for the sewing arts. I am passing sure that my three brothers would beat me senseless in the castle battlements if they well knew),” he assured her, adding as the sarcasm inherent in his beam dissolved to something warmer. “I would have assured ye that it is your spirit, your intellect, your strength that make ye so beautiful in my eyes,” he paused here, adding in a softer tone, “so very, very irresistible.”
Catherine thought a moment, and then nodded.
“Well I do apologize, my love, for underestimating ye—and knowing your kind and respectful ways, I should not have,” she admitted on a sigh, adding as she inclined her head in the direction of her fiancé, “Yet I must question the assertion that you find me irresistible—not when ye have canoodled with virtually every lady at court, except for myself.”
Gerald sighed.
“I told ye, Catherine,” he reminded her, shifting tall in the saddle of his restless mount, “I wished only to preserve your innocence, chastity and maidenhead until the night of our marriage.”
Catherine sighed.
“I would have well exploded by then, Gerald,” she insisted.
Gaston laughed in spite of himself at these words; drawing a hard and scornful look from their unexpected guest.
“Aye, my lad,” Gerald spat out, blue eyes inflaming like diamonds on fire as he regarded his evident rival. “Do ye think it is humorous to come between a lord and his betrothed? To toil with and possibly endanger their future together—as well as the future of their families and kingdoms?”
Gaston shrugged.
“As the knight servant of our beloved Lady Catherine, milord, I have a single role and purpose in life,” he answered, holding up a single strong finger for emphasis. “That purpose revolves at all times around the protection and satisfaction of our lady. And I do assure ye, my good man; I shall go to any lengths to fulfill that mission—along with the extraordinary woman that I’ve been proud to serve since the time of our childhood.”
Gerald nodded.
“And is that what ye were doing in her chamber last eve, my good man?” he shot back, tone angry and brittle. “Serving and protecting Catherine?”
He glowered outright as his rival met these words with a smooth, catlike grin.
“Indeed I was milord,” he declared, squaring his substantial shoulders as he added, “Since ye were not there by her side, to fulfill your duties as her lover and protector, then I as her knight felt compelled to take your place.”
Gasping outright at Gaston’s brazen words, Lady Catherine covered her mouth as her gaze shot to the face of her intended; who, as she could have guessed, was good and furious.
For a long moment he glared outright at a smirking, boastful Gaston. Then he hopped off his horse and struck a bold stance in the face of his rival.
“Sir,” he said, tone low and deathly serious. “Draw your sword.”
Chapter Four
Catherine’s eyes flew wide as she sat frozen on her horse; watching a ghastly scene unfold before her, shattering the peace of a dew glistened meadow lined with heather, freshest dandelions and fragrant lavender. Ignoring the beauty and serenity of their lush, beautiful nature borne surroundings, the two men in her life drew their long, gold hilted swords from their metal bound scabbards and poised them high in the air; their cold eyes issuing a mirrored challenge as their long, firm legs braced simultaneous in a strong, hard stance.
For a timeless moment she watched with mouth agape as Gerald and Gaston circled one another like hungry tigers; their steeled gazes holding hard and fast as their muscled bodies clenched in a mutual show of fury driven machismo.
Her breath released seconds later in the form of a gasp, as metal met metal in a furious crash, the warriors’ agile arms shifting and angling as they parried and advanced.
“Halt!” she exclaimed, finding her voice as she hoisted a restraining hand in the direction of each opponent. “Stop this nonsense, and now. I shall not see a single drop of blood shed for my benefit—and I shall not see either of ye hurt.” She paused here, adding as she shook her head slowly from side to side, “Am I not able to have a say in this foolish battle, waged on my behalf? Or am I supposed to stand silently back and watch other people determine my future? Ye both know me better! And if either of ye wishes to remain a part of my life in any role, for any length of time, I command that ye stop this madness. Now!”
Gerald shot her an apologetic look, but ultimately shook his golden head in rejection of her plea.
“I know full well that he has wanted ye, for so very long,” he told her, adding as he again locked gazes with a still, stalwart Gaston, “And in the interest of proving to him—and to you, my love—my place as the man in your life—the only man—then I fear that this is the sole solution.”
Gaston had heard enough.
“Then halt yer yakkin’ and fight like a man!” he commanded, adding under his breath, “Blast ye bloody noblemen!”
Now Gerald had heard enough.
“En garde!” he screeched, lurching with sword drawn in the direction of his rival.
Catherine watched in abject horror as the two rivals descended into a primitive state of enraged combat; their swords clashing like cymbals in the air above them as they literally growled their anger.
She once again opened her mouth to order them to stop; yet instead of issuing another frantic command, she instead let loose with a deep, throaty yawn that stopped both men
dead in their tracks.
Turning as one to face their lady with wide, disbelieving eyes, the two men in her life froze in their places as they said at once, “Aye?”
Letting loose with a second yawn, this one deeper and more pronounced, Catherine ran some absent fingers through her smooth russet ringlets; fixing her two stunned lovers with a bored, sleepy eyed stare.
“What do ye two manly, oh so fiercesome gents plan to do next?” she asked, arching her eyebrows in a show of keen disinterest. “Pull out your manhoods and compare their length? Perhaps ye could do battle with them! That may indeed be more interesting to watch than this dry show of desperate masculinity.”
Gerald rolled his eyes.
“Ye and yet filthy mind, milady,” he chided her, sharing a knowing look with a watching Gaston, which indicated that they at least agreed on something. “So tell us then, milady. If ye do not wish us to do battle with swords, then just how would ye like us to vie for your affections?”
“Name your tournament, milady,” Gaston chimed in, adding as his dark feathered eyebrows rose in a show of keen curiosity, “Would ye like to see us race our horses in your honor? Joust? Run a foot race? I well take it that ye would prefer we settle this in a nonviolent manner.”
Gerald nodded.
“Aye,” he agreed, adding as he lowered his sword and shuffled his feet beneath him, “And, frankly, I well share your sentiment. I always have liked Gaston, and have no wish to harm him.” He paused here, adding through gritted teeth, “And I harbor an even greater wish to not be harmed by him.”
Gaston nodded.
“I agree, milord. I’ve always liked ye, as well,” he revealed, adding with a broad gesture in the direction of their lady, “but I love her. I always have. And while I have no wish to overstep my station and intrude on your engagement, I feel that I must at this point confess my feelings to both of ye—before she becomes your bride.”
Gerald nodded.
“I’ve well suspected this fact for a long time, Gaston. I indeed could tell it, every time ye looked at her,” he told Gaston, adding as he shifted his gaze in the direction of a silent Catherine. “What I do not know, however, is how milady feels about you—or even me, for that matter. So in lieu of staging boyish tournaments in a desperate bid to curry her favor, I suggest that we ask her opinion on this matter.” He paused here, finishing with yet another annoying grin, “Because if I know anything about my intended, she does indeed love to offer her opinion.”
Catherine thought a moment, and then nodded.
“All right then,” she assented, sliding with a smooth flourish from the back of her horse as she came to stand tall and proud before them. “If ye truly wish to know the truth, then I shall tell it. I love ye both. I have loved Gaston since the time we were children, and oft lamented that I could not be his bride. I have loved Gerald since the first eve we met, five summers ago at the queen’s birthday feast.” She paused here, throwing her hands up in the air as she insisted, “I tell ye, a woman should not be forced to choose between two such perfect, divine men. I have enjoyed such splendid experiences with both of ye, and cannot rank one of ye above the other. Ye both shine in your intellect, your grace, your strength, your gentility and nobility. I daresay any maiden would be proud to claim either of ye as a husband.”
Gerald nodded.
“So how, then, do ye plan to choose between us?” he pressed his intended.
His mouth fell agape moments later, as a newly beaming Catherine raised her hands to unlace and loosen her sky blue kirtle.
“Aye,” she breathed. “I do believe I have thought of a way.”
Chapter Five
Soon Catherine stood naked in the eyes of her two lovers; her kirtle, under-kirtle and sheer chemise discarded on the ground beside her.
She smiled as an awestruck Gerald, seeing her nude, curvaceous body for the first time, stared at her in blatant admiration. Then he parted his full, luscious lips and uttered words that she’d heard often throughout the course of her lifetime.
“Have ye gone completely daft?”
She never grew tired of hearing these words, as they usually indicated that she had just done something wicked fun—or, in this case, that she was about to do something even more wicked fun.
“Well my darling, ye asked me to find a way to choose between ye,” she told her intended, adding with the shrug of her markedly bare shoulders, “As I see it, this be the only way.”
Letting loose with a whoop of agreement, a smiling Gaston stripped away his tunic and hauberk with slow, deliberate moves; revealing again the hard, toned body that Catherine so adored.
His sense of competition immediately returning, Gerald also peeled off his bright silk tunic and his tight black pantaloons; finally displaying the massive golden body that often invaded her dreams.
Her heated nocturnal visions came beautifully to life moments later, as her lover came forward to sweep her off her feet; cradling her voluptuous body closer than close as he knelt in the grass below them.
Laying her trembling body in the softness of the clover filled grasses below them, Gerald covered her body with his as their arms and legs entangled.
Seizing her lips in a passionate kiss, her intended massaged her lips with his as their tongues entangled between them, the tendrils of his heather soft golden hair falling soft across and whipping against the sensitive skin of her breasts.
Leaning full into his kiss, she wrapped her arms around his muscled shoulders as her breasts crushed his hard muscled chest; her wandering hands feeling and stroking the hardness of his planed abdominals--before stealing downward to caress the length of his long, hard shaft.
This move elicited a sensual growl from the throat of her beloved, whose long, wet tongue lapped the roof of her mouth as his hands coursed and massaged her back.
“This day, my love, I plan to prove that it is I who belongs in your arms,” he hissed against her lips. “No man can please you better than I can.”
With this he swept her up in two strong arms, his magical fingertips tickling her sides as their hips and thighs locked between them.
“No one can love you better than I,” he repeated on a whisper, gyrating his hips salacious against hers as he buried his head in her chest.
“Aye. We shall see about that, milord.”
Taking Gerald’s words as something of a dare, Gaston dropped to his knees in the grass and planted a daring kiss on Catherine’s lips; then settling at her back to massage her back and shoulders as he planted sweet baby kisses on her neck—also stroking her hair in long, tender strokes as he whispered in her ear.
“As always, milady, I am at your disposal,” he whispered, pressing his hard golden body flush against her back as he added, “Just remember the pleasure that I brought you last eve.”
Shooting him a gem-eyed gaze that dripped with defiance, Lord Gerald secured two strong hands around Catherine’s waist and pulled her closer to him.
“Do not simply recall your pleasure, milady,” he whispered in her other ear. “Seize it, here and now in my arms.”
Accenting his words with delicious action, Gerald cupped his hand between her legs and stroked open her feminine folds; stroking her bulging nub as she sighed with delight. Then his free hand clasped her shoulders in a warm, protective clench as—finally and fully—he plunged his long, hard shaft to the depths of her soaking wet femininity.
Throwing herself deep into the arms of her ardent lover, Catherine writhed wild as their hardened nipples scraped together and her legs wrapped around his waist, deepening his intense penetration as their hips found a perfect rhythm.
Even in the fevered frenzy of their first carnal encounter, the couple continued to kiss and cuddle with the greatest tenderness; their tongues entwining as their bodies clenched in a sweet erotic cocoon.
Catherine gasped against Gerald’s lips seconds later, as the hand of another man squeezed her full ass—his equally lush, ardent mouth layering her back with a sma
ttering of sweetest baby kisses. An invigorating rain that made her tremble in Gerald’s arms as, with a long, last stroke, his shaft sank forth to her very core. With a deep binding kiss he sent them hurtling across the bounds of an intense mutual orgasm.
Their bodies rolled wild in the grasses beneath them as their arms and legs entangled; their lips merging in a passionate kiss as their beings pulsated in the heat of an incredible climax.
Catherine’s body still trembled in the heat of pleasure as she rolled over onto her back; her vision of a clear crystalline sky blocked by an even more pleasing vision--that of her dark haired lover.
Hovering over her with a devilish smile, a resolute Gaston swept her up in two strong arms and bowed his head reverent to the crest of her neck; kissing and licking her nape as he settled his gorgeous naked body between her parted legs and ran agile but soothing hands across her breasts and down her rounded stomach.
“Just relax, milady. Think not of my pleasure, only of your own,” he whispered with a smile, his tender touch stroking and caressing her nipples, her belly button, her hips, her thighs, before descending lower still to tickle the strands of her feminine nest. “Allow your knight to demonstrate the most improperly proper way that a lady should be loved.”
With these words he lowered his hand to stroke her inflamed clit and toy nice and tender with her delicate opening—still soaking wet with arousal in the wake of her last encounter.
Then, seizing her lips with a passionate kiss, he slipped his strong, agile finger deep in the confines of her feminine garden; his delicious touch probing and penetrating her pulsating walls.
His magical fingertip echoed the back and forth motion of his tongue as he kissed and fingered her senseless, his intimate touch searching her insides for the ultimate source of her pleasure.
And just then, he found it.
Jumping upward from the ground beneath her, Catherine shuddered in Gaston’s comforting embrace as her entire body exploded in the heat of a very special form of release; one that actually caused a thin stream of thick fluid to erupt from the depths of her feminine garden, as her entire body pounded and pulsated with the intensity of an incredible climax.
ROMANCE: THREESOME : Billionaire Brothers' Party (MFM Menage Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Threesome Short Stories) Page 71
