by Lynn Lorenz
In truth, I would gladly die by my own hand rather than kill the man I loved. Or leave our two boys without fathers, and any rash behavior on my part would do just that.
I gulped down air, trying to remain upright. No. There had to be an explanation. This wasn’t what it looked like. It couldn’t be.
I wouldn’t allow it to be.
Logan loved me. Me. Not Duncan.
There had to be an answer. And I promised myself I’d find it. No matter what the cost.
»»•««
I couldn’t hire one of the servants to spy on Logan, but I could put one on Duncan. That would make sense, the man was unknown to me, and as master of arms it was my duty to protect the duke.
So with only a little tinge of guilt, I took on the task of finding one of the young lads posted at the end of the corridor to do his day’s work. He sat on a low stool, polishing boots, tending the hearths, collecting laundry, and seeing to anyone’s needs.
Duncan didn’t spare him a glance.
The boy watched the comings and goings of Duncan and reported them to me. And in doing so, with a few carefully worded questions, I could also discover Logan’s whereabouts and find out how much time they spent together.
Again, we dressed for the feast, the great hall filled with guests, and the night played itself out with a new cast of nobles. Logan gave his toast, his welcome, and his gifts, and everyone enjoyed the festivities.
Everyone except me. All I could think about was what would happen later that night. Would I be locked out again? Denied Logan’s touch? His kiss?
I grew irritated and had to control my anger, even with Joss. He enjoyed the holiday as only one who first experiences something wonderful can, with an open heart, laughing eyes, and high spirits. I couldn’t fault the boy. I remembered when there was a time I too reveled in this time of year. So very long ago.
The feast ended, the guests left, and we adjourned upstairs. Duncan bade us good night, then Logan and I put the boys to bed.
In the hall, Logan lingered. I thought perhaps to speak to me, perhaps to explain. He hung in his door, this look of longing on his face, then with a sigh, told me good night.
“Will I see you later?” I asked.
“No, my lord. In the morn.” He shut the door and drew his bolt.
And I knew there would be no purpose, no reason for me to bother testing the door between us. It would be bolted also.
My heart filled with such sadness, I could only stand there, my hand on the wall to support me, as I teetered on the edge of despair.
With effort, I opened the door to the boys’ room and gazed at my son. The melancholy thoughts that flitted through my mind lessened when I looked down at his sweet sleeping face and form.
I didn’t know where this would lead, but I knew, I promised him, I wouldn’t do anything rash, but act nobly. I could do that, at least.
After closing the door, I went to my room, undressed, and got into bed.
For a long while, as the night wore on, I longed to get up, go to the door, and test it.
No. If Logan wanted me, he could come and get me. The bolt on the door hung on his side, not mine.
Sometime in the night when the fire had burned low, I fell asleep.
»»•««
For four days, Duncan went to Logan’s room in the middle of the day, and Logan let him inside. Several hours later, Duncan would leave and return to his room.
For four nights, after the feast, Logan bade me good night and said nothing else to me. I returned to my room alone and confused.
That night, I had a disturbing dream.
The end of the festivities came, as always, and everyone went to their rooms. I stood in the middle of my room, naked, the moonlight coming through the closed shutters.
Where there had never been light before, a bar of light shone under the door between Logan’s room and mine, drawing me to it.
I reached the door and pushed it open. It swung slowly on its hinges to reveal Logan’s room, with only the fire burning for light.
Logan and Duncan were on the bed. Duncan on all fours, and Logan kneeling behind him. They both turned their heads and looked at me.
“Enter, my lord.” Logan smiled at me as he stroked Duncan’s flank. “See what I have for us.”
“Join us.” Duncan grinned, the same smile he’d been giving me all along. My belly rolled with anger. Seems I didn’t like him in my dreams either.
I shook my head, denying what I saw.
“He’s so tight, my love.” Logan thrust his hips, the long length of him sliding slowly inside Duncan’s body. Despite everything, I marveled at the beauty of their bodies, so intimately joined.
I watched as Logan rode Duncan. Watched and watched and ached with need and longing. My throbbing cock stood stiff, dripping like water from a spout.
I wanted them both. Not just Logan, but Duncan also. Wanted him to service me. To overpower him, to exert my domination, to make him submit to me.
But I also wanted my duke. And that want far outweighed my want of Duncan.
I moved to the end of the bed and crawled up behind my beloved duke, pushing him forward, his ass ready for my taking of it. He shuddered as I entered him, slick and smooth although I don’t remember coating my rod with oil.
What I do remember was fucking him. Slamming into him, setting his pace as he fucked Duncan. I remember Logan’s cries, Duncan’s grunts as he received a shafting, and I remember my hands on Logan’s heated skin.
I could feel him tightening around my cock and knew he wouldn’t last much longer. I pulled him back, out of Duncan, denying the stranger my duke’s seed. That was for me alone.
I wrapped one arm around Logan’s chest. With the other, I grabbed his cock and stroked it, hard and fast, demanding his release. We kissed, our tongues mimicking our bodies. He groaned and gasped, his body jerking, but unable to move due to my restraints. I loved when he submitted to me, and my dreams were no different.
Duncan rolled over and watched as I brought Logan to completion, crying out my name. Mine. Not Duncan’s. It would never be Duncan’s.
Logan’s cream pulsed from him, splattering on Duncan’s thighs. Duncan ran his fingers through, brought them to his lips for a taste, but I ordered, “Hold.”
His hand fell back to rest on his leg as he frowned at being denied a taste of my lover.
Logan gave a final shudder, and I let him go. He slid to the bed, sighing in contentment.
“You’re next.” I growled at Duncan. My cock still stood hard and ready, and at last I saw fear and respect in his dark eyes. “I’ll show you how a man fucks. On your knees.”
He balked, and I ordered him again. “I said, on your knees.”
This time, he obeyed, offering me his body.
Head down, ass in the air, he spread his legs for me. His sack swung between his thighs, heavy and full, covered in dark hair. His long cock nearly touched the bed. I parted his globes with my thumbs, found his hole, and pressed the head of my cock in.
He groaned as I entered him. He was as tight as Logan had claimed. Logan lay on the bed, watching us, his cock twitching back to life. I thrust into Duncan, my hands on his hips in a punishing hold.
He grunted as I slammed into him. Logan, now hard, moved to sit in front of him and offered his rod. Duncan took it in his mouth, sucking Logan as I pummeled his ass.
He reached to stroke his own cock, but I knocked his hand away. “Not yet.”
I rode him harder, going hilt deep, my balls slapping his thighs, grunting, straining, to take him over the edge. To feel his channel clench around my flesh.
I angled and stroked over his soft spot, and he pulled off Logan and cried out my name.
I hit it again and again, and on the third stroke, he shuddered and spilled, his cream dousing the linens. Logan groaned, closed his eyes, and I pulled Duncan away from him. Logan’s rod popped from his mouth, and once again I denied Duncan more of Logan than he deserved. Logan took himse
lf in hand, and with a few quick, loose strokes, released, spilling over his hand and belly.
I waited until he’d finished, then took my pleasure with Duncan, riding him down to the bed, as his legs gave out, and spread wide apart to accommodate my body. I covered him, trapping him beneath me, my hands fastened on his wrists to control him.
In a final show of dominance, I bit his shoulder as my stones rose to deliver my seed into Duncan’s tunnel.
I woke, coming hard, spewing my cream over my belly and chest, my hands grasped tight in the covers, and crying out Logan’s name.
In the darkness of my room, my rasping breath the only sound as my heartbeat slowed, until at last, my fingers uncurled and freed the covers. My body slipped into a contented state, as if there were no bones to hold me up. Dazed, I blinked into the morning’s light.
As the memory of the dream came rushing back, I knew if I didn’t do something soon, this wouldn’t end well. Once, I’d shared my lover. But now, after being with him for these months, one thing I knew for certain.
I’d never share Logan.
Chapter Eight
I dressed in my riding leathers. After pulling on my boots, I placed two shirts in my saddle bags, along with a small coin purse and a few personal supplies.
Standing in the middle of the room, I gazed around at it as if seeing it for the last time. That time might come, but it wasn’t now. I kneeled by the bed and checked that Logan’s gift still remained hidden.
It had been five nights, and my name had not been called to receive the duke’s favor. We’d never spoken of when we’d give our gifts, but I’d assumed it would be on Twelfth Night. At first I hadn’t worried about it, but now, after knowing of Duncan’s visits to Logan’s room, I wondered if there would be a gift.
Logan wouldn’t dare to shame me in front of the entire keep, I was sure of it. Still, a grain of doubt remained. I swept it away. I had more to worry about than that, and I knew if I let the grain grow I could think of a dozen horrible scenarios.
I took my broadsword down from the wall where it hung and slung it over my back. That done, my short sword at my hip, there was no longer a reason to tarry.
I left my room and crossed to the boys’. Joss and Tomas were awake and dressing. Joss helped Tomas into his boots as the younger boy patted his head, either to bother Joss or as a show of affection, I couldn’t tell. But the warm light in his eyes led me to believe it was the latter.
“Joss.” I stood in the doorway.
My son looked up at me, smiled, then frowned. “Da, where are you going?”
“I have a mission to see to, son. I’ll be gone for a few days.”
“But it’s Twelfth Night!” he cried. “You can’t go now.”
“My duty comes at all times and hours, lad. I must away.” I kneeled and he ran to me, flinging himself into my arms. He buried his face in my neck as I held him tight.
“I’ll miss you.” His sweet voice muffled against my shoulder.
“I shall miss you. Terribly.” I held him from me. “Look after Tomas and be good for Logan.”
“Joss is always well behaved.” Logan’s voice came from behind me.
I gave Joss a kiss on his cheek, ruffled his hair, and stood. “I’ll be back soon.” He nodded, his eyes filled with sadness. I stepped into the hallway and closed the door.
And faced the man who’d been hiding from me for five days.
“Where are—” Logan started, but I took his face in my hand and pushed him against the wall. The corridor stood empty.
I crushed my body against his, ground my cock into his, and took his mouth with a punishing kiss. When he whimpered and opened for me, I pulled away to whisper, “Duncan best be gone and the door unlocked when I return, or I’ll be the one leaving.”
With a swipe of my thumb across his bottom lip, I left him leaning against the wall and strode down the hall to the stairs. I took them two at a time, grabbed my cloak, and tossed it over my shoulders on my way to the courtyard, where my horse waited, as I had ordered earlier.
The groom held Horse’s reins as he snorted and stamped, breath blowing in great misty clouds from flared nostrils, ears pinned back on his head, and eyes rolling.
“I see you’re ready, Horse.” I flung my saddlebags over his rump and tied them down, then leaped up into the saddle. The groom tossed me the reins and darted away.
Peter ran out of the barracks. “Drake!” He skidded to a stop next to Horse. “Drake, where away?”
“I ride to inspect the outposts along the river.” Horse danced, his hooves clattering on the cobblestones and echoing off the walls.
“How long?” Peter looked up at me, concern in his eyes.
“As long as it takes. I’ll return soon.” With that, I looked up to the guards and called out, “Open the gates!”
“Drake!” Logan’s voice rang out.
The men pulled the gates apart, and when they were wide enough for us to pass, I kicked Horse, and he lunged through them.
We flew down the road to Marden as if hellhounds nipped at our heels. I was halfway to town before we slowed, and I looked back.
If I had stayed, it would have been the end of me.
This way, when I returned, I’d know whether I was welcomed or not.
Whether the place I now called home would still be home.
Whether I should take my boy and leave.
»»•««
Late that afternoon, I came to a small village. An inn stood at its heart, so I took the opportunity to eat something besides the bread and cheese I’d packed. If I pushed on, I might make the first outpost before night fell, but I didn’t feel the need to rush. In truth, the driving need to leave Marden had disappeared sometime during the ride and now had been replaced by a nothingness I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Not since Ansel’s death and my days of drowning myself in drink.
A drink sounded like a very good idea, and at the inn there would surely be a tankard waiting for me.
I reined Horse up to the water trough and dismounted. I broke the thin layer of ice on it and watched him lower his head to drink. After he’d had a taste, I led him to the post and secured him to it, then went inside.
Like a hundred other inns I’d been in, this one looked the same. Small, smoky, smelling of stale ale and the sweat of men—nothing about it stood out. Not even the look of the men who sat at its tables.
I ordered a drink. The barkeep handed it to me; I paid him, then drank it down, washing away the taste of the road. Unfortunately, it left the smell of the inn in its place.
“What have you to eat?” I asked him.
“Roasted fowl and pig, rabbit stew.” He shrugged, not recommending any of his choices.
“Fowl and bread.” I tossed the coins on the bar and pushed my tankard toward him. He nodded, picked it up, and refilled it.
Taking it from him, I wandered to a table and sat, my back to the wall, looking out at the others.
They looked like the usual men who gathered at inns across the lands. Dirty, sweaty farmers. They watched me, their wary eyes narrowed and grim mouths set hard.
Well enough. I wanted no trouble, and these men looked as if they agreed.
The roasted pigeon arrived, a small heel of dark bread with it, and I ate, barely tasting the dry bird, which was only a bit more moist than the bread. Still, better any meat than none.
If I got on my way, I still might make it to the outpost by nightfall.
Indecision and apathy warred inside me. How easy it would be to fall into my old ways of despair. To just sit here, like the others, and let time pass. Endless hours turning into endless days, accompanied by endless tankards of ale.
But I had a son to think of now. Not returning to Marden, even if all I did was pack my bags, gather our belongings, and leave, was not a choice. I would return, and for Joss’s sake, return whole and sober, not the hopeless drunkard I’d become before called to these lands.
To Marden and Logan.
&nbs
p; My heart weighed like a stone in my chest. Hard and cold. Unable to swallow down the lump, I left it there, to remind me of where my heart belonged, and to whom.
I had made myself clear to Logan. Duncan had to go, or I would. The door had to be unlocked. Logan could put no barriers between us ever again. My heart, my pride, and my soul couldn’t bear having him so close, yet being without him.
Knowing what I had to do, I stood, leaving my ale unfinished, and left. I felt the men’s gazes on my back as I opened the door to the inn, letting in the cold air. I pulled my cloak around me and stepped out.
Horse waited, head hanging. He looked tired. It had been a long time since we had ridden such a distance, and both of us had grown soft.
“Sorry, boy, we have to move on.” I checked my saddlebags. They were untouched. With far less vigor than earlier, I climbed into the saddle and turned him toward our destination, and we put the village behind us.
I’d make the inspection of the outposts. If I moved quickly, I could be done in a few days and on my way home.
I kicked Horse into a trot, and we bounced down the snow-covered road that lead to the river and ran along it.
Around us, the countryside wore a thick mantle of snow, giving the scene a sort of beauty found only in the winter. Stillness, broken by the sound of my mount’s hooves and a few birds that still remained, wrapped me in a cocoon of quiet.
As the sun fell behind the hills, I reined Horse in at the top of a rise and looked down at the river, a silver ribbon winding its way between the lands Marden and those of Duke Bors Weathers. For long years, that bastard had his eyes on Marden, and if we hadn’t established these outposts, he’d still be sending his thieving men across the river into our territory, wreaking havoc.
Now, with three manned outposts to deter him, the raids had ended. I’d advised Logan to place the outposts along the river road, twenty miles apart, along with a relay station between Marden and the first outpost that would house extra horses. With all of that in place, we could deter the raiding parties, and if any crossed, we could get word to Marden’s troops by riding full-out to the station, changing horses, and then riding to Marden in less time than the raiding parties could move.
