Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh

by Ann Jacobs

  Fuckfests were well and good when all participated. Not when some watched and shouted obscenities at the participants. “Send the observers away, husband, and I will remove it. Then we may get on with the bedding. I’m no virgin whose blood need be attested to.”

  Gavin stepped closer, cupped her chin in his hand. The smile he bestowed on her surrounded her with warmth, like a velvet robe. “But I am a man whose cock has been caged by his lady. I’d have witnesses to its removal.”

  Agreeing that made sense, she knelt and fumbled with the tiny lock. For a moment Meggie’s little cry distracted Evelyn, but she persevered. The crowd’s cheer resounded in her ears when she knelt and unlocked the cage from Gavin’s cock and balls. When she slid it off, she saw he’d discovered the use for the two largest rings she’d gifted him with today. The largest ringed his cock and ballocks, while the smaller encircled the base of his huge, swollen cock.

  “I stand ready to bring you pleasure, my lady wife,” he told her as a cheer went up from the assembled men. “Watch…”

  Gavin raised Evelyn to her feet, then lifted her in his arms. He strained a bit, but steadied himself quickly and strode with her to the marriage bed. “Spread your legs, madame, that I may fuck you for our guests’ pleasure. Then I will order them away and the fuckfest may begin.”

  Evelyn’s cream flowed heavy despite her embarrassment at the prospect of taking her husband’s huge ringed cock before the drunken wedding guests. When Gavin knelt between her legs and sank slowly into her cunt, he looked her in the eye.

  “All right, my friends. The Lady Evelyn is mine in deed as well as words, as is Lady Margaret now my brother’s true wife. As Lord of Misrule, I order you all to seek your own beds. Prepare for more festivities on the morrow!” Gavin’s voice rang out, his authority unquestionable.

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  “You are welcome. I’d not cause you discomfort, but our guests demanded that they be allowed to bear witness to our joining.” Bracing his upper body on his elbows, he bent and brushed her lips with his own. “They are leaving now. And they’ll not return.”

  Evelyn brushed a lock of dark hair off her husband’s forehead. “I beg your forgiveness for my deception, Gavin. I’d not have it cast a pall on our marriage.”

  “‘Tis all right, sweeting. ‘Tis my pleasure to have found a bride who takes pleasure in the marriage bed. One who keeps my cock stiff and ready any time she’s near.” He laid his head on Evelyn’s breast and drew a nipple into his mouth.

  As he rocked in and out of her dripping cunt, she grew hotter and wetter with each stroke. “Oh yesss. Fuck me harder. Please.”

  Her clit tingled every time Gavin ground his hips and brushed it with the rigid base of his cock. God’s blood, but having him fuck her like this—as though his whole mind centered on her—made her every reaction more intense. Hotter.

  Vaguely her mind registered that Will was also moving on Meggie, his rhythm in perfect harmony with Gavin’s. Meggie’s little whimpers triggered her own ecstatic moans as the pressure built in her cunt, began spreading…bursting…blinding her with its intensity. Oh God in heaven, she was dying. Scalding waves of the most intense pleasure she’d ever known washed over her, made her gasp for breath.

  Was that her scream? Or Meggie’s? Evelyn was past thinking. Past anything but savoring the exquisite pleasure that flowed from Gavin’s pulsating cock in her cunt, consumed her in a burst of delicious sensations. His shout, and the hard bursts of his seed into her womb set off yet another wave of intense pleasure…

  * * * * *

  As the sun rose, illuminating the tower room he’d shared with Will since they left the nursery, Gavin lay between his wife and Will’s. His cock throbbed in Meggie’s mouth while he feasted on Evelyn’s creamy cunt. The ruby-glass plug in her ass shone in the sunlight. At this moment he couldn’t figure why he’d been so angry at her deception. Why it had taken so long for him to realize what a jewel he now possessed.

  God’s nightshirt, but he’d been given a prize. Ripe and buxom and hot-blooded as hell. Not to mention that she’d elevated him from knight to lord with the saying of their vows. On top of that, Gavin liked his bride. Enjoyed being with her outside their bedchamber as well as in it. Yes, he was one lucky man. Wanting to hear her scream with pleasure, he sucked her swollen clit between his teeth and flailed it with his tongue. Will had her mouth, tongue-fucking it the way he’d tongue-fucked Meggie’s earlier.

  Now Meggie sucked his cock, tangling her tongue in the ring when she licked the drops of lubrication from it. The way she clutched his ass cheeks, digging in with her nails while Evelyn held onto his waist, drove him wild. When Will plowed Meggie’s cunt, she moved her mouth in that same rhythm on Gavin’s cock.

  Gavin plunged his tongue deep into Evelyn’s cunt, savored her cream. His balls tightened as Meggie sucked him harder, deeper.

  “My God, Meggie. I’m cominggg!” Will shouted.

  Meggie clamped down on Gavin’s cock, her whimpers reverberating on his distended flesh. He gasped at the delicious sensation, half withdrew the dildo from Evelyn’s sweet ass and plunged it back in, hard, while he latched onto her clit with his mouth and sucked hard.

  The first waves of his climax shook him. Shook them. Hot, hard jets of semen bounced off Meggie’s throat, making her swallow. That motion triggered more spasms, more come. As Meggie swallowed the last of his come, Evelyn screamed out her pleasure. And Will collapsed onto Meggie, pressing her skinny body into Gavin’s while he wrapped his arms about his wife’s quaking thighs.

  “Damn it, Will, roll over. Hold your wife and let me hold mine.”

  * * * * *

  “‘Twill be the last time we all four share each other, I vow,” Gavin told Evelyn later as she lay with him after Will and Meggie had left the room.

  “Why, my lord husband? I find sharing exhilarating.”

  “Because I’d honor my vows?” The smile he gave her nearly took her breath away. “Nay. ‘Tis that I’m greedy. I’d have my beautiful, buxom bride all to myself. Think one man can see to all your carnal needs, love?”

  He called her “love”. Did he mean it? Dared she admit she loved him, too? “We shall see, husband. May I assume you’ve truly forgiven me for my little deception on Christmas Eve?”

  “I forgave you days ago.” He looked at her, merriment and mischief showing in his dark eyes, his quirky grin. “I think, though, you need a lesson, so you won’t try to deceive me again. Rise. Fetch yon riding whip from atop my trunk. I’ll punish you now, and the deed will be hence forgotten.”

  Her milky ass cheeks felt soft as silk to Gavin as he positioned her across his thighs to take her punishment. “So pretty. So soft. Pity to turn them red and sore.” Reluctantly, for he hated to hurt his love, he raised and lowered the crop once…twice…three times. Welts stared up at him, made him cringe at the thought he was hurting her.

  “More. Punish me more, my lord.”

  He hit her again, harder this time. She yelped, but begged him to continue. Shifting the crop to his other hand, he reached between her legs, felt her honey flowing. “Mayhaps I’ll use this in our loveplay since you like it so well.”

  “Oh, yesss. Please fuck me now. Fuck me hard and well.”

  Slowly he slid her onto the bed, face up, sliding between her thighs and looping her legs over his shoulders. “With pleasure. And with love. Open to me, wife, I’d fill you with my seed.”

  Evelyn sighed. “And with love. Always with love.”

  After she came, after she’d wrung the last drop of seed from his exhausted cock, Evelyn rolled onto her side and cupped his face between her soft hands. “I love you, too, my husband. Forever.”

  Epilogue

  Summerfield Castle, Christmastide, 1179

  ‘Twas Christmas Eve, a time for prayer and celebration—and revelry about to be presided over by his third son Henry, just knighted by his uncle ere he came home for the holiday. Earl Rolfe stretched his long legs before him,
wondered if fourteen years hence he’d be having an iron maidens fit on Alisa, who now tugged on his knee, begging for a ride. Just yesterday he’d caught Henry and Alfred fucking with a willing serf girl in the hunting lodge their brothers used to use for some of their debauchery.

  Rolfe stared into the flame, his mood reflective. Two years ago today he’d given Jasmine the daughter they’d wanted for years. Two years ago this blessed season, Gavin and Will had taken brides. And nearly two years ago, once the Epiphany had passed, they’d rid the northern marches of the scourge of Clan MacFarlane.

  “Papa?”

  “Yes, sweeting.” Though he loved all his children, his little girl held a special place in his heart.

  “Play wif’ nef…”

  “You want to play with your nephews? Ask your nanny to take you to them.” Rolfe imagined his young namesake, just three months old, was partaking of nourishment from his mama’s now-bounteous breasts, and that Gavin’s twins would be wakening from their naps. “Run along now. I’d spend some time alone with your mama ere we go to the hall for the noontide meal.”

  “The season has her excited beyond all,” he told Jasmine when she joined him on the settle before the fire. “Happy Christmas, my love.”

  “Yes. ‘Tis happy indeed to have everyone home…and to know Gavin will be moving within an hour’s ride once he rebuilds that rockpile Meggie’s sire once called a castle.”

  Rolfe stroked Jasmine’s thigh, as firm and slender now as it had been years ago when he took her as his leman and then his bride. “You cannot wait to have his twins nearby to spoil, as you spoil Will and Meggie’s now. Admit it.”

  “All right. I do want them close to spoil them. But also so I may see how well the match you made for Gavin has turned out. It makes me happy to know it’s not property but love that keeps a smile on my boy’s face.”

  “‘Tis strange. Motherhood has slimmed Evelyn while it’s fattened Meggie.” His cock twitching as he inhaled Jasmine’s familiar scent, Rolfe slid his hand higher, caressed her slit through the layers of her shift and gown. “They change, whilst you bear my babes and stay as lovely as you were the day we met.”

  Turning into his embrace, Jasmine laughed. “Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, love. It warms me to know you see me now as I was then—even though my reflection in the garden pool tells me otherwise. Come, let me show you how much I love you…how much I love how you love me.”

  Later, sated and content, Rolfe and Jasmine lay among the furs in their cozy bed. “Rolfe?”

  “Yes, sweeting.” He turned his head, met her sapphire gaze.

  “I wonder if our twin sons still share each other’s wives.”

  “What?” He’d explained their wedding night away as a one-time ritual understandable for brothers who’d shared their mother’s womb.

  “I’ve known since they weren’t much older than Henry is now.” She ran a teasing finger down his chest, stopping to tweak the rings in his nipples ere moving on to stroke his jeweled cock.

  “That ended the day after their weddings, I believe. Like me, our sons seem content with the women they married.”

  “I suppose now all we must do is worry about Henry and Alfred,” she said, cupping his balls and giving them a gentle squeeze.

  Rolfe laughed. “I fear our worries about them will be naught, compared with what we’ll face with Alisa when the time comes. ‘Tis no way she can be her parents’ daughter and not give us a trial.”

  “Mayhaps you should marry her off ere she’s out of nappies, then.”

  “Or mayhaps not. I welcome the challenge of keeping our daughter from the hands of lechers like our sons.” He noticed Jasmine’s grin, decided to say it before she could. “And like me.”

  “Thank God, like you. We’d best rise and see to our family and guests. Rolfe, I love you now as I’ve loved you for twenty-four long years.”

  “I, too. I pray we’ll have as many more.”

  About the author:

  Whether she's writing as Ann Jacobs, Sara Jarrod, or herself, Ann Josephson loves sexy, Alpha heroes and heroines who are every bit their matches. A transplanted midwesterner, she has lived in Florida practically all her adult life. She spent several years as a health care financial manager before becoming a full-time author in 1996, shortly before the release of her first book, Heaven Above, a Berkley contemporary ghost romance. Her highly acclaimed books have been translated into at least six languages. One was optioned for a movie, and three will be reissued this year in hardcover editions.

  A member of Romance Writers of America, TARA chapter and Kiss of Death chapter, Ann also belongs to the Authors' Guild and is the treasurer-elect of Novelists, Inc. A regular speaker at local and regional writer events, she was part of a workshop panel at RWA's national conference in July 2002.

  Ann welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.

  Also by Ann Jacobs:

  · A Mutual Favor

  · Awakenings

  · Black Gold: Another Love

  · Black Gold: Dallas Heat

  · Black Gold: Firestorm

  · Black Gold: Love Slave

  · Captured with Carroll Mavis-Raine

  · Colors Of Magic

  · Gates of Hell

  · He Calls Her Jasmine

  · Lawyers In Love 1: In His Defense

  · Lawyers In Love 2: Bittersweet Homecoming

  · Enchained with Jaid Black (Lawyers In Love 3: Mastered)

  · Lawyers In Love 4: Getting’ It On

  · Love Magic

  · Mystic Visions

  Writing as Sara Jarrod

  Haunted

  A Gift of Frankincense

  Cassie Walder

  Author’s Note

  Hepburn Hall is a product of the author’s imagination, as are many of the people you will meet in this tale. To the best of my knowledge, there never were any Earls of Solway. That title is fictional. There were DeVeres, most notably the Earls of Oxford. That line is now extinct as I understand. The DeVere family depicted here are utterly fictional. Garrick and Hepburn are old and honorable names. But, Rob Garrick had no life outside of the imagination of the author.

  What is true is most of the history. This particular period of history was a time of great social and political upheaval. King Charles I had been tried and charged with waging war against his own people, and beheaded by the Rump Parliament. England went from a monarchy to a republic then to a monarchy in everything except name, under Oliver Cromwell as Lord Protector of England.

  This tale is set in the last year of Cromwell’s rule as Lord Protector. After his death, the monarchy was restored.

  All of the poets quoted were published before or during 1657, the date of this tale.

  Enjoy this Gift of Frankincense.

  Cassie Walder

  Chapter One

  Lady Anne DeVere Hepburn, Countess Solway, worked in her stillroom at Hepburn Hall on the afternoon Monday, 23 November 1657. But her mind was on the royal command she had received from the hands of a messenger early this morning. It was outrageous that her rightful king would command her to wed, bed, and then to abuse the trust of Sir Robert Garrick, M.P. by becoming a spy in his household. Oh, he hadn’t phrased it quite that coarsely, but that was what the royal command had meant.

  Mary Morris and Bertha Davies, her stillroom maids, were working beside Anne.

  Mary said, “There are just too many of the tenants sick. We can’t keep up.”

  “We have to,” Bertha replied, with just a hint of exasperation in her voice. “Lives depend on us.”

  As Bertha and Mary compounded medicines to let people breathe more easily, Anne poured bottles of homemade elderberry wine into a large crock over fever reducing herbs. By tomorrow, she would be able to bottle this tonic wine.

  “I haven’t seen any fever like this since His Lordship and the wee ones died, almost ten years ago,” Mary observed. Then
Bertha and Mary exchanged looks as they waited for Her Ladyship’s reaction.

  “That is true,” Anne answered.

  She had been alone for too many years. There were times that she desperately longed for a man in her life, in her arms, in her bed. She thought often of remarrying, or even though scandalous, of taking a lover or maybe two, even having fantasized of three of them in her bed at once.

  Accidentally, once, she had been witness to two of the footmen, James and John Kinnet, making love to one of the maids, Betty Douglas, in the cold pantry. Anne had been too shocked at the time to move or even to reveal her presence to them. She had stood, concealed in the shadows, watching the three of them enjoy one another in ways that Anne had until that time never even dreamt that men and women could enjoy one another. Their private orgy had gone on for what seemed like hours. That memory had become for Anne the fuel of her own late night fantasies.

  In her fantasies, she had put herself in the place of young Betty, having a man loving her quiff with his lips and tongue while taking another man’s quimstake into her mouth, using her mouth as a substitute for her quiff. And then that fantasy shifted to one in which a man lay beneath her on a floor with his hard quimstake inside her hot and wet quiff while she knelt, her legs astride him, the other man standing and fucking her mouth while he caressed her breasts. Yet, that had been only the beginning of the adventures as the positions changed again and again going through what Anne considered every possible way of men loving a woman. Those fantasies had kept her warm during many cold winter nights as she had been in her lonely bed.

  Oh, her bed was lonely by choice. She had received plenty of offers over the past decade of her widowhood. There had been honorable offers of marriage. And there had been the dishonorable offers of merely sharing pleasure. None of those had appealed to her, in the least. Yet, this latest proposal of marriage, this proposal of Rob’s that she had received only days ago, did tempt her. Or at least, she had found it profoundly satisfying to contemplate until she had received the Royal command this morning. Now the proposal from Rob merely frightened her.