A Wanton's Thief

by Titania Ladley

  “Ha! You must have the child brainwashed,” Salena scoffed as he dismounted, pulling her with him. She shivered, her small body vibrating against his tightened muscles.

  “Nay, not brainwashed. Lance is a smart young man and very dependable.” And he shot her a confident grin as he lifted her into his arms and carried her toward the stable’s dark interior.

  She gazed up into his eyes, rain spattering her lovely heart-shaped face. In that moment, Falcon could swear she tazired him by the glittery droplets that clung to the soot-colored lashes and framed those cat eyes. His body went rigid, his cock filling with a new rush of hot blood as he recalled her wild abandon of not an hour ago. At that very stormy moment, her sweet scent entered his nostrils and enticed him. In response, his mouth watered with the need to taste that hard little knot crowning her pussy.

  “Aye, smart for want of a precious coin, I’ll give you that, thief. But is he truly loyal? When my brother Sheldon arrives offering ten times your bribe, do you really think the lad will remain mum?”

  He stopped in his tracks and snarled, “Sheldon will not come near either you or the boy.”

  “My brother will come near me! He will save me from the likes of my beastly kidnapper. Just you wait and see.”

  “Falcon!”

  At the voice, he whirled in the open door of the stable with Salena’s inert body tucked snug in his arms. Molly rushed across the muddy ground, a stack of linens and blankets clutched to her ample breasts. He watched as her fiery red hair flowed wet down her back and fluttered behind her in the intermittent light of the night storm. Her black skirts clung to her shapely legs, the fabric plastered against her body by the high winds. He’d had himself buried between those long legs on many an occasion. Oftentimes, he’d detour through these very woods just to get a taste of her, even while in dangerous pursuit by the enemy.

  But now…now something was different. The petite body in his arms distracted him somehow. Molly’s hair did not appear as silky as before, nor did her tall, voluptuous body seem to draw his eye and make him hunger for her talented charms. Only moments ago on the ride here, he’d longed to slake his lust between her legs this night. But now, now he only desired to cater to the hissing feline pressed warm, small and vulnerable against his chest.

  And something quite close to nausea swirled in his gut and made him long to toss the Frost Princess headlong into the turbulent winds and run for his immortal life.

  “Falcon?” Molly slowed her steps as she neared and the gleeful smile on her lovely round face faded. “What ails you? And…” Her gaze shifted downward to the bundle in his arms. “Who is that you guard so…so closely?”

  The note of jealousy didn’t go unnoticed. Something about it made him feel as if she’d just put a noose about his neck and kicked the platform out from beneath his feet.

  “Molly.” He nodded his greeting. “‘Tis Lady Salena Tremayne.”

  Molly gasped. “Lady Salena Tremayne? Why do you have the future Duchess of Oxford in your company? And holding her in such a…familiar manner?”

  Her haughty indignation settled much like sour milk in his stomach. “I don’t see that it’s any of your business, Molly. Now, we need shelter—quickly and discreetly. The lady is drenched and we’re both famished.”

  Molly stepped into the dim interior of the stable and leaned in toward Falcon. Her hot breath swirled out in white puffs of condensation to snare him along with the sharp edge of her tongue. Flashes of lightning lit her angry features and thunder rumbled in the distance, emphasizing her rising ire.

  “You dimwit fool! Do you not realize the king will see you beheaded for this? For snatching one of his prized—” she sneered it out, “—ladies in waiting?”

  “Woman, I’ll have you know, I do have a brain within my skull. Now, do you or do you not have shelter for the lady and I?”

  Molly’s round jaw clamped shut with a clatter. Her nostrils flared while her auburn eyebrows drew together. She spared one more scathing look at Salena. And if looks were lethal, Lady Salena Tremayne would be as dead as the leaves upon the forest floor.

  “I do,” she said tightly, and spun on her booted heel, her skirts swirling with her anger. He heard a rustle of activity and soon the interior of the large stable glowed by the candle she held in one hand.

  “Come this way.” She passed through a narrow slat of stalls to a door at the far rear of the barn. Falcon followed her rigid form, the scent of straw and horse now acrid in the air. “The inn is full to capacity, but I do have the tack room available.”

  She pushed open a rickety wooden door and entered a small room that appeared to be set within the slanted lean-to at the backside of the structure. The aromas of straw, oil and wax rushed into his lungs as he stepped into the low-ceilinged room behind Molly. He glanced about, noting the little stone hearth that filled one short wall, a few logs of firewood and kindling set nearby. Upon the ground across from the hearth, an undressed straw pallet covered the dirt floor. Adjacent to that, in one corner among the various saddles, grooming equipment and shelving, stood a lone chamber pot and close-stool, quite unusual items to be present in a tack room.

  Molly tossed the linens and blankets atop the pallet and settled the candle within a round brass candleholder upon the mantel. “I use this room as overflow on rare occasion. Which is why you’re afforded some conveniences. But I said rare. Not many, save Lance, his mother and a handful of trusted guests, know of this room.” She turned and approached Falcon. The firelight silhouetted her voluptuous body while the shadows seemed to dance upon her face and make her hazel eyes glitter with antipathy. And again, she scrutinized Salena and curled her upper lip with antagonism.

  Falcon spoke before she could spew her jealous wrath. “You will be rewarded handsomely, both for your hospitality and your silence.” He set Salena down and looked deep into her eyes. Salena glared at him as he ordered, “Remain quiet until after Molly leaves us. In the meantime, go and take the linens and ready the bed for our night’s rest.”

  Falcon dismissed Salena when she stepped over to the mattress and dropped to her knees, immediately obeying him by the powers of his tazir spell. But not before he caught the murderous glare in the blue cat’s-eye-shaped orbs.

  He ignored her and turned back to Molly, addressing her once again. “If you would, send Lance to me. I’ve something to give him. And please, have him bring along a bite to eat and some additional firewood.”

  “That’s it? Just leave you here with her and send Lance along?”

  Falcon sighed and cupped her plump cheek. She groaned with obvious abandonment and pleasure, turning her lips into his palm. His touch could always calm her like a dose of laudanum. He allowed her a moment to nuzzle his hand, surprised when it did nothing to stir him as it might have in the past.

  “The lady is in danger, Molly. We must rest and move on by daybreak. I will return soon. I give you my word.”

  Her eyes turned to limpid pools of relieved surrender. She smiled softly and he experienced a brief stab of regret when she inhaled, presenting him a most tempting, cavernous cleavage. “Ah, I’m pleased to hear you say that.” She threw her arms around him, pressing her round breasts into his chest. Out of reflex, he wrapped his arms around her curvy body and smacked her full on the lips.

  “And I am pleased with your continued loyalty. Now, we must get dry, warm and nourished.”

  She groaned her disappointment and stepped away, but her expression no longer reflected distrust or jealousy. That he could always depend on, Molly’s understanding of the nature of his business…even if it encompassed having an abducted maiden in his company.

  Molly winked. Her voice lowered several smoky octaves as she leaned in toward him. “You’re very welcome to warm your cold, weary bones between my bed linens…and my legs.”

  He chuckled, secretly irritated with himself that the blatant offer hadn’t fired up his blood as it normally would have. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”


  “Well, you know where my bed is, Falcon Montague.” And with that, she blew him a kiss and sashayed from the room.

  “Well, you know where my bed is, Falcon Montague.”

  Salena’s mimicking brought him around with a delighted start. Her plump lips were twisted in disgust as she wobbled her head from side to side, imitating Molly’s overt invitation.

  He chuckled and sauntered toward her. Looking down at her as she struggled to aright a blanket upon the bed, he replied, “Not only is your tongue as sweet and thorny as a rosebush, your servant’s talents are sorely lacking.”

  She came to her feet in the blink of an eye. “I am not your servant, you thieving mule’s ass!”

  And he had her lifted into his arms in yet another blink. “You are as I say, hellcat.” Falcon couldn’t resist any longer. The urge to claim her mouth once again speared him like a poison-tipped arrow. He knew the consequences, was very aware of how outliving someone you came to adore could be worse than death itself. But this woman had had a hold on his self-control from the moment he’d spied her prim beauty at the jousting tournament. To have saved her to prevent one tragedy had only caused yet another future one, as well as heartache and an endless, lonely immortal life for himself. He now accepted that truth, accepted his temporary fate with this woman.

  With one hand, he pressed against the damp cloth over her firm rear so that her pussy ground into his crotch. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the cold thickness of fabric against both his hand and his cock. It tempted him to blinding, maddening distraction. The other hand twined into her long, wet tresses. And with a hunger he’d not experienced in centuries, he forced her mouth to his and attacked, eliciting a gasp from her parted lips.

  At that charged, out-of-control moment, Falcon tumbled into blissful insanity.

  * * * * *

  Salena tasted the flavor of pure danger in his kiss. Even though she silently forbade it, every nerve ending in her body leapt to life. The kiss was clearly one not meant for an innocent. It tempted her as if she were quite the opposite—a shameless harlot. Hesitantly, curious and driven by the pounding between her legs, she parted her lips and let him in. The spear of his tongue—wet and tasting of sinful fruit—hit its target with precise accuracy. It seemed to stab her from her mouth down through her heart, right to her very womb. The damp silk of his tongue chased hers, cloaking it in an erotic dance. She couldn’t move her arms, for he had them pinioned at her sides, but she leaned her body into his, eager to see what lay ahead.

  Salena, you idiot! You must stop this madness. You must not encourage this criminal to steal your strength from you.

  But all self-scolding fell to the wayside. He suddenly groaned and ground her sensitive area violently against his codpiece. The rough and unexpected movement abraded her juncture over the hardened length of his rod. Salena gasped into his mouth, shocked pleasure bursting through her system. Her clit swelled, throbbing with a need she didn’t quite know how to feed. She thought of him touching her on the ride to the inn, the unbelievable pinnacle he’d brought her to… Maybe she could somehow attain similar bliss with this bulging erection just the way the ladies at court whispered about. If she moved her body over his as he’d moved his fingers against her, could she derive the same pleasure right here, at this very moment? It made her wonder…had Thane completely botched her first mating encounter for her? This man here was obviously more skilled at foreplay, which would likely make what followed much more fulfilling. As her first betrothed, she’d fancied Thane to be a master at lovemaking. Salena had experienced vague dissatisfaction and uncertainty back then, true, but now she’d undergone Falcon’s phenomenal skill in comparison to Thane’s blundering attempts.

  Just knowing she had Falcon’s amazing talents at her disposal, and contemplating a satisfying coupling caused a rush of sticky wetness to trickle out of her passage and onto her bare inner thighs. It made her hunger for more, enticed her tongue into reciprocation by plunging deep into his mouth. How she suddenly longed to wrap her arms and legs around him, to get closer, to be utterly filled by him!

  A knock sounded at the door. Her eyes popped open and she could swear someone had dumped an icy-cold bucket of water over her head. Drowning in mortified devastation, she withdrew her tongue from the hot recesses of his mouth and let out a muffled groan of humiliation.

  Harlot! He released her as she silently repeated the insult over and over in her head.

  “Nay, not a harlot, love.”

  She’d forgotten he could read her mind, but there wasn’t time to protest. He ran the hot tip of his finger along her jaw and down her neck, stopping only to cup one breast. She sucked in a ragged breath filled with his woodsy scent when he pinched the already hard nipple through the fabric of her nightshift. Fire seemed to race from his wizard’s hand and melt every cell between her legs. Her eyelids fluttered, going limp of their own volition.

  “You’re simply a very passionate maiden trapped inside an amateur’s body.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Get your hands off me.” Lord, why did her voice sound so pathetic, as if she didn’t mean a word she said?

  He threw his head back and roared, the long length of straight, pale hair falling back over his beefy shoulders. “Your words often contradict your thoughts and actions, sweet Salena.”

  What would it feel like, she wondered, to run her hands through that thick mass of hair? Would she rather do that, or violently pluck every strand from his handsome head?

  “Do not poison my given name by using it freely upon your tongue.”

  “Hmm,” he said softly, crossing to the plank door. “As I recall, you rather enjoyed my tongue.”

  “Oh!” Salena stomped one booted foot on the dirt floor and folded her arms over her midriff. “You are the most insufferable oaf I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

  “Fortune, misfortune…” He shrugged and reached for the iron handle. “From my point of view, you’ve been quite profitable…or will be.” And he cupped his erection to emphasize his point.

  She ground her teeth together and growled in frustration as he swung the door open. Pompous ass!

  “I heard that,” he threw over his shoulder with a warning tone. To Lance he said as he stepped aside to allow him entry, “You are prompt, dependable and very loyal. The very makings of a Merry Gentleman.”

  Lance beamed as he carried in a basket of foodstuff. He seemed not to care or notice that Falcon hid behind a coward’s mask.

  “You really think so, sir? Do you think someday, I can ride with you and your men?” By the light of the lone candle, Lance’s damp midnight hair gleamed with bluish streaks. He set the basket upon the hearth, bustled back to the door for an armload of wood and stacked it neatly with the other logs. Immediately, he arranged kindling and twigs in a pile inside the hearth. Obviously well practiced in flames and his expected duties, he had the fire sparking in seconds.

  “Oh, with all my soul, lad.” With that, Falcon added a wink and took several moments to root through his gunnysack. Finally, he added, “And here’s the proof of my confidence in you.”

  The boy’s grin faded when Falcon held up a gold coin. It twinkled and glimmered by the light of the fireplace. Falcon’s gaze moved back and forth between Lance and the coin in his own hand. He wiggled his fingers, rolling the coin’s edge over knuckles, fingertips, palm. The round disc seemed to enthrall the boy far more than Falcon’s own spells had captured Salena.

  “Is it mine?” Lance tossed a larger log onto the fire and walked slowly up to Falcon. His head tipped back, he looked up, watching every suave move the thief made.

  “Aye, yours for all your hard work and allegiance.” With that, he tossed the coin upward so that it toppled through the air. It glittered with flashes of gold on its way down, and landed perfectly within Falcon’s palm. He extended his hand. “Go ahead. Take it. ‘Tis yours, lad.”

  Lance snatched it, his eyes bulging as he held it up to examine its smooth surface.
Next, he bit into it, testing its authenticity. Salena’s heart did an involuntary flip at both the boy’s reaction and the tender generosity of the man who had caused it.

  “Mine…”

  “Yours. And this one,” Falcon said, drawing another to the boy’s attention, “is your ma’s. Give it to her, Lance, and tell her a stranger from afar sends his condolences for your pa’s untimely death at the king’s hand.”

  Lance looked up then, his dark eyes glistening with tears, and choked out, “Thank you.” He knelt and threw his arms around one of Falcon’s thick legs. His gaze rose to capture Falcon’s surprised one. “You are forever in my prayers, kind sir. I will never forget your generosity…” He grinned and added, “Robin Hood.”

  Falcon chuckled. “Oh, aye, Robin Hood, that I am, the pilfering thief, the bloody murderer. Now, up on your feet, boy.”

  Lance rose and Falcon dropped the second gold coin into the lad’s hand. “Be gone with you. But first, go and snatch one of those tiny loaves of bread and a hunk of cheese from the basket you’ve just brought. Take it with you for you and your ma. I’d like to see a bit more meat on your bones and a few inches to grow on, the next time I pass through these woods.”

  Salena’s breath fluttered in her chest when Lance grinned, tears still brimming his eyes. He crossed to the hearth, chose the food offered and returned to the door.

  “Thank you,” Lance whispered, and tucked the coins into a tiny leather pouch at his hip.

  “Thank you.” Falcon patted his head and ruffled the thick, damp hair. “Now, be off. And remember, mum’s the word.”

  “Aye, I promise with my life, sir!” And he was gone.

  Falcon closed the portal and latched it. Turning, he said with a rasp, “Let’s see, now…where were we?”

  Still in shock from that hypnotizing display of ogre-turned-kind-prince, Salena had to take a minute to clear her head. But now she saw the ogre was back—with a vengeance if the arrogant, stalking swagger were any indication. Still somewhat restricted but for the orders he’d given her to make the bed, she leaned back to avoid his advance, her feet planted in place against her will. The defensive move made her fall backward atop the pallet. Her cloak gaped open revealing the nightgown beneath its thickness.