by Georgia Fox
Finally she lay limp, but still cursing. Once they had travelled a fair distance and too far for her to try running back again, he stopped and made a campfire in the woods. He revealed a small sack of food that Alaya had brought for him from the cookhouse— remnants of the wedding feast.
"We will rest a while until I have recovered from these bruises you've given me," he grunted, sliding her down from the horse. "Then we must ride on."
"I will not give up all that I have, all that I am, to run away with you! I am Cedney Bloodwynne, Ealdorman. I have riches, land and property, folk to protect. I—"
"You're a woman. You and I both know you were about to be discovered. Do you think King William will take kindly to being tricked all these years— to being made a fool?" He handed her the bag of food as she sank to the ground by a tree. "Your place now is with me."
"To do what?"
"To be my woman, my comfort. To bear my children. My sons. Fate brought me here to you for a reason. Your time was running out, and you know it."
She dropped the food and put hands to her face, shaking her head.
Dom knelt before her, grabbed her wrists and tugged her hands from her cheeks. "On the death of your father, you would have been a spoil of war. To save you, your father made you pretend you were a man, his heir. But he did not think far ahead. Perhaps he did not even think you would manage it for as long as you did. He must have known that, in the end, you would become a victim at the hands of your conquerors."
Speaking steadily, slowly, he needed her to understand the danger she'd faced, that he had performed a good deed for her, not a bad one.
He watched her swallow and she closed her eyes.
"You are a remarkable woman, Cedney Bloodwynne," he said. "But you would have been a dead one if you continued this ruse." He had known her for so little time and yet it felt as if a million years had passed since she appeared in that cookhouse door with a bloody knife in her hand. That first sight of her had almost knocked him over. He did not know what she'd done to him, but he wanted to keep looking at her. Even when, for those first few moments, he had thought she was a young man, his eyes were filled with the sight and spoiled then for any other.
Since that first evening he'd seen her strength, her determination and that had deepened his attraction to this woman beyond anything he'd ever felt for another. The truth was that to lose her would be intolerable for him, he realized. She was too special.
She, however, clearly thought he was interfering where he was not needed. "I have managed long enough without you, d'Anzeray. I do not want to be a woman."
He frowned. "But you are one. You were born that way."
Snatching her hands from his she folded her arms. "I shall refuse you."
Eyeing her warily— particularly that stubborn mouth— he said, "And what form shall this refusal take?"
Her eyes sparked with venom. "Oh, I think you know."
"You, my wench, mean to keep me from your body, eh? You think—"
"Try to master me with that cock and see what becomes of it."
Dom took a step toward her and she stamped hard on his foot, then swung a punch into his stomach. It winded him because he was unprepared. He did not want to hurt her and was still considering his next move when a second fist hit his jaw.
At that point he decided she was a danger to herself. Still gasping for breath he seized her wrists with one hand and then secured them firmly together with a belt. While she shrieked colorful curses at him again, refusing to be his woman or anyone else's, he began to remove her clothes. The cold air, he reasoned, would soon silence her. She'd need her energy to stay warm. And she couldn't go running off naked.
Besides, he wanted to look at her body again. After all these bites and bruises, she owed him that much.
Chapter Thirteen
"My feet are cold, you bastard," she hissed.
"You may have your boots back when you start being sweeter to me. When you admit that I have saved you from certain death. Until then...."
He had left her completely naked, burning her clothes in the campfire. If she wanted warmth, he said smugly, she would have to snuggle under his new mantle, with him. This was his way of teaching her gratitude, so he said.
Silver moonlight shone upon her breasts and thighs, where his gaze touched her hungrily. She shifted, trying to hide herself against the tree to which he'd tied her.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"No," she snapped.
"I don't want you getting skinny. Now you are to be my wife, you must eat well."
"I'm not going to be anybody's damn wife, you villain!"
He sat before her, this murderer of innocent men, this seducer of innocent maids, and noisily consumed the contents of the food bag. Cedney shivered. She did not know how long she could withstand the winter's cold without clothing, but she could not think of thanking him. He had stolen her away from her manor, from her familiar comforts, from her destiny, the only life she'd known, from the promise to her beloved father. Why would she thank him for that?
She was a leader of men, not a slave girl, not a woman to be subjugated and forced.
Oh, but the soles of her feet hurt from the cold ground.
"It might snow again," he observed, his gaze skimming the starlit sky through the bare branches overhead.
"Give me my boots," she hissed.
"If you say, Thank you, Dominigo. And smile."
She hopped on one foot. "Very well. Thank you," she spoke through gritted teeth, "Dominigo." He did not have to know what she thanked him for, did he? She could be thanking him for having a big cock and an equally large, stupid, bull-like head.
He looked at her. "And smile," he prompted, licking his fingers.
Cedney grimaced, now hopping on her other foot.
Dominigo stood and walked over to the tree. He crouched and slowly he lifted her legs, one after the other, and pulled on her fleece-lined boots. Ah, the relief.
Then he slid his hands up her legs, brushed his fingers over her pubic mound and higher. He rose up to face her and cupped her bare breasts in his hands. "Now ask me to taste your titties and I'll let you warm up in my newly acquired mantle."
"Pig."
"You were more eager before, Cedney. I remember how keen you were to welcome me in when you bent over your bed and dropped your breeches."
"That was different." She turned her face away as he gently fondled her breasts and ran his thumbs over the chill-hardened nipples. "That was on my terms."
"You like to be in charge."
"Of course." Why not? She always had been. Like a man.
He had taken that from her. Is this what made her most angry?
Dom lowered his dark head and took her left nipple between his lips. She moaned as his hand slid back down over her stomach and between her legs. His mouth fastened onto her and suckled fiercely while his hand explored, one strong, demanding finger prying between her pussy lips. Now she knew he would feel her wetness, despite the fact that she sulkily wanted to deny her arousal. A woman's body was too weak and gave her away.
With a soft 'pop' his lips released her scarlet nipple and then he circled that blossoming, wet bud with his tongue. His eyes met hers.
"I'm going to fill your cunny with my seed, Cedney. Fill it until it overflows with my essence."
She said nothing for fear that her voice would quake and betray her further. He now had two fingers inside her, sliding through her moist valley, teasing her hidden pearl until she moved her hips instinctively, helplessly.
Well, she thought crossly, this woman's body might betray her by giving him what he wanted, but her speech would not obey. He would get no soft sighs of devotion from her.
"I'll fill your belly with babes and these glorious tits with milk." He put his mouth to her other breast now and sucked just as hard, working the nipple with his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth until she wanted to scream. Three fingers were now pressing in and out of her cunt, bending up
inside her, tugging her lower body away from the tree. He lifted her until her legs were around his waist and then, with her arms still tied to the rough trunk, his mouth still clamped to her breast, he entered her savagely with his cock.
From this angle it seemed to pierce her even deeper than before and she squealed, gasping.
He fucked her hard, his breeches lowered to his knees, his manhood plunging in and out so rapidly that she could not catch her breath. Her buttocks shook and his fingers dug into the trembling flesh. She was no longer cold, but her wrists scraped on the twisted belt with which he'd tied them and her hair caught on the tree bark. Back and forth went his mouth, grunting wildly as he moved from one nipple to the other, keeping them both wet, both aching, her full breasts jostling in his face.
Inside her cunny his hard cock stretched her, plundered her treasure with a roughness that should have hurt. Perhaps if she was not so sopping wet it would have. Each time it slid in and out, it touched some part of her that she'd never before known existed. She bit down on her tongue, holding in the cries of bliss that wanted out.
"I'm going to spend now, Cedney. Inside you. All the way inside you. You're mine. Your pussy is mine."
He paused and lifted her legs even higher, until her knees almost reached his wide shoulders. Slowly he withdrew the length of his rod and she felt the heat of it against her thigh.
"Look down, Cedney, at what I have for you," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Tell me you need it. Tell me you want it."
The head of his cock was dark and sticky, gleaming in the moonlight. It looked the size of a ripe plum.
"Tell me what you want," he urged, tapping it against her swollen nether lips and then her inner thighs again. His dick felt heavy, she thought. Hot, hard and heavy. Even Torvig the Boaster would be envious and silenced by the sight of it. "These sacks of mine are full of spunk," he whispered. "And it wants to fill you. Fill your beautiful woman's body, your cunt, your womb."
"My legs hurt," she gasped out, dizzy with need but still fighting. Still refusing to obey him.
He lowered her legs only slightly and hooked both over his left arm, but still kept them up high.
"Mayhap my lady wants this cock in her arse?" He poked the knob into the crack of her bottom and she moaned.
"No!" It would surely split her in two, she thought. It was almost too big for her pussy to take, let alone her anus.
"No? Then what? Here?" He moved his cock again, smacking it stickily against her throbbing labia. With her legs held together it felt even more arousing.
"Yes," she cried out, unable to hold back. "Yes. Fuck me there, you bastard."
He chuckled deeply. A moment later she felt his cock pushing into her again. He still held her legs together, bent over the crook of his arm and his erection speared her from another new angle, almost sideways. This time she had no power, no purchase. He rammed her and she was entirely at his mercy.
With a howl he flooded into her, every inch of his staff buried in her cunny, his balls hard against her vulva, throbbing with semen as it was released in a rhythmic pulse and shot into her defenseless body.
Dear God, he had impregnated her. She felt it happen.
Could it be possible to know the very moment of conception?
Well, that was it then. He had not only made her a woman, he had made her a mother. There was no going back.
That, no doubt, was entirely this reckless bastard's filthy plan. He had stripped her naked, removing all her former identity. Now Cedney Bloodwynne had a new destiny.
* * * *
He showed her the box of treasures he had collected from her chamber before he kidnapped her. "I must have some dowry," he told her with a grin, "and since you offered this to me before—"
"That was meant as a reward for keeping my secret."
Sliding his arms around her, he kissed her on the mouth, slowly, lingering over it the way he would over any honeyed treat. "Now you are free of that secret, so there is no more need to keep it."
"Free?" she scoffed. "Do you not mean to keep me in bondage?"
He leaned back, frowning. "No. You are not my slave."
"But you took me as if I am your captive."
Chagrinned, he admitted it was the only way he could think to manage the matter of his desire for her, and his concern. But in Dom's eyes, the lie begun by her father had become her prison. He had not made her a captive; he had released her from a dungeon. Now he must teach her how to live free and happy.
"And you sent for Torvig that night, I assume, to bed Lady Rosamund and take my place."
"The hen needed a cockerel. I heard he was the best in the manor."
She scowled then, her proud feathers ruffled.
"Only the best at fucking, my lady," he added, smiling. "You were by far the best at everything else, so your fyrdsmen informed me before the hunt. Before it saw it with my own eyes."
Shaking her head she muttered, "Now Torvig will take over. He has waited for this chance."
Dom stroked a hand through her hair, relishing the whispering kiss of softness against his roughened skin. "I know you will miss your old home, but now you will have a new one. And with me you can be the woman you were born to be."
Her eyes looked deep into his and the blue warmed gently. "I can be myself at last," she spoke quietly, almost as if she dare not let the words out. "If I even know what that is."
"You will," he promised her, clasping her hand tightly and drawing it to his lips.
So he rode on with his naked woman wrapped in his arms, under the mantle they shared. He allowed her to keep the boots on her feet. Apart from that she needed only his body heat to keep her from the cold. And the occasional good fucking along their route.
"I like you naked," he observed to her as they stopped on the second night of their journey. "I might keep you that way."
"But then everyone will see me thus."
He grinned. "So? You have nothing to hide, and I like to show you off. I am here to protect you from unwanted attentions. Your body should be admired. It is splendidly ripe."
She frowned. "I am not fruit!"
So he set about disproving that by pushing her onto her back there and then eating her cunny as if it was indeed an extremely juicy peach. Dom knew he could probably eat her pussy six or seven times a day, such was his hunger for her taste, but that would be greedy and he was mindful of the fact that he must share her once he got her home. He could not be overly possessive. They would all want some.
"You truly share everything with your brothers?" she had asked, looking doubtful and wary.
"We have all been taught well by the best whores our father could hire," he told her. "You will not be unhappy with us."
"But surely...seven men...at once...."
He kissed her soft lips and then the tip of her nose. "We will always be gentle. You will never be forced. And you will have seven husbands to take care of you and your babes." She had, of course— as she pertly reminded him then— always been the one to take care of herself and others. "So now it is your turn to be cosseted and protected and loved."
"Loved?"
It was milder that evening, the air damp rather than cold. A quick thaw was coming. He felt it all the way to his heart where he held her hand against it. "Loved," he said.
She looked quizzical.
He had never felt this way about a woman. Was it love? How would he know for sure? All he knew was that he needed her at his side. Preferably naked. And he liked the sound of that word "loved" as it skipped along his curled tongue and made her lashes flicker shyly.
Sometimes she rode astride his cock as the horse cantered along. She enjoyed the bouncing motion, the thrusting, and he liked to feel her arse— those firm, rounded cheeks—smacking against his thigh muscles.
That was how they rode through the gates of his father's castellany, with his woman, wrapped in his arms, speared upon his proud manhood. His warprize.
Chapter Fourteen
"I hope t
here will be no trouble following this woman who was once a man," said his father grimly. Slouched in his bed, Guillaume had just finished supper from a tray brought up to him by his second daughter-in-law, Aelfa. Now he shoved the empty tray aside and looked Dominigo up and down with a searching, grey-eyed gaze just like his son's. "Trust you to find a woman who does not think she is one."
Dom laughed easily. "Oh she knows what she is, father. She just doesn't know whether she likes being one yet. Fortunately, she has me to teach her."
Guillaume shook his head. "There is no father or brother coming for your head now that you kidnapped the wench?"
"None. She was all alone in the world."
"Well, now she'll have plenty of family."
"Indeed."
"But she is a woman used to ruling. I trust you know what you're taking on." His father groaned mournfully. "I fear you will suffer many bites and bruises, as I did from your damned mother and her hot temper. She too always thought herself in command."
"Ah," said Dom, "but I have stripped Cedney of all that. She is born again now. With me."
* * * *
She was introduced to his brothers as they sat around the fire that evening. Salvador, the eldest, surveyed her with a dark, somber, but appreciative gaze as Dominigo exhibited his war prize in all her naked splendor.
"Nice boots," joked Raul, the third eldest.
All the brothers had dark hair, but Alonso, the fourth son, wore his long, tied back with a leather strip. "I thought you would be the last to bring a wife home, as you take so long to make decisions," he commented wryly.
Dom rolled his eyes. "I did not have to think so long about this woman."
Finally, the three youngest d'Anzeray brothers stepped forward to meet the new bride— Sebastien, Nino and Ram.
