Fighting Lady Jayne

by Michelle M. Pillow

  She looked at his chin, seeing the roughened texture of his whiskers sprinkling over his flesh. Instantly changing the suddenly uncomfortable subject, she grabbed his cock and squeezed along the base. With a firm pull from root to tip, she felt it rise even more in her hand. Mimicking the slight accent of his people, she said, “Methinks there be other ways to relax you, Lord Ronen.”

  At her touch, his lids drifted lazily over his eyes. “You twist my head, Lady Jayne, until I cannot think. You fight me, but then touch me like this.”

  “Trust me, for what I have in mind, you don’t really need to think.” Jayne pushed him so he rolled onto his back. Ronen’s arms sprawled to his sides.

  Jayne crawled on top of him, holding his strong body down with her smaller one. Her muscles twinged, but she ignored the pain. Leaning into him, she nuzzled her face against his rough cheek. Her nipples brushed across his chest, already hard from when he massaged them, and her pussy slid along his hard stomach.

  Ronen moaned softly. “You are so beautiful. I could look at you forever.”

  Jayne gave a small laugh. “Forever’s a long time.”

  Ronen pushed up from the bed, causing her to slide back onto his lap. His hard cock pressed against her ass as she became seated on his lap. “Stop.”

  “Stop?” Jayne’s mouth fell open in shock before she could hide the expression behind an uncaring mask. The truth was she found she cared very much. Stop? He wanted her to stop?

  “Stop forestalling a true conversation.” Ronen’s hands braced his weight, but his eyes pierced into hers, holding her captive more effectively than any hands could. “If I try to speak of something real, you dismiss it or you start kissing me so I forget what I wish to say.”

  Jayne didn’t move. How could she? His irritation washed over her. Instinct told her to do one of two things, seduce him or fight with him. Naked on a bed, his cock pressed intimately against her cleft, she didn’t really feel like fighting him. And his expression forbade any attempt at seduction.

  “You have nothing to say, do you?” He frowned, though a deep vulnerability shone through his gaze.

  Jayne opened her mouth, but nothing came out. A real conversation? That wasn’t necessarily fair. They’d had real conversations. She’d told him some about her past. He spoke of his homeland, duty and family. Even as she tried to rationalize, she knew what he meant. She refused to talk about them, their situation. Sure, she’d dismiss or ignore any attempt he made at convincing her to stay. A deep realization hit her. The reason she refused to discuss it was because she was terrified he’d succeed.

  “Methought not.” The moment passed with his flat words and hardening eyes.

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” she whispered.

  “Then I suppose what I want is not there for you to give.” Ronen rolled her roughly onto her back. “I will have to settle for giving you what you want.”

  His kiss ground at her mouth, as if he would punish her. Jayne resisted for a brief moment, before the passion in him drugged her senses. She grabbed his hair, accepting his forceful handling, not minding the hard grip of his roaming hands or the bite of his teeth.

  Their lovemaking became a battle. Hands gripped, nails raked, lips fought and bodies rolled. Jayne forced him over, reaching between her legs to grab his cock. She squeezed and Ronen grunted. Before she could impale her body on his, he had her on her back once more. His strong thighs forced hers apart. Her body buzzed with sensations. What had started as punishment turned into a mutual, frantic desperation.

  Ronen grabbed her legs, lifting them over his shoulders, using her own body to keep distance between them. “Is this what you want from me? A hard cock?” he demanded, as if punishing her with the physical pleasure he offered.

  Sweat beaded their flesh. As he drew his erection along her wet slit, she bucked off the bed. His hands braced next to her shoulders while hers roamed aimlessly over his chest—pinching nipples and scratching pinkened trails.

  Ronen propelled his hips forward, sinking deep inside her willing body only to pull back out. The position allowed him to go deeper and rougher than ever before. Jayne met his hard rhythm, punctuating each slam of their bodies with an audible gasp for air, only to be outdone by his louder grunts. He didn’t go slow or easy, instead plunging in and out at a wild pace.

  “Ronen,” she panted, clawing at his neck and shoulders. He kept his gaze steadily on her, forcing her to look at him. His eyes seemed almost chilled, having lost the soft light they normally carried when they made love. She hated the coldness in them, but couldn’t look away, couldn’t think of how to ask for the softer Ronen back. She’d pushed for this with her words and deeds and fears. Even as her body enjoyed the rough coupling, her heart revolted.

  She began to tense, but he did not slow his pace. Bittersweet pleasure erupted along her body. Her pussy tried to cling to him as she found release. Ronen thrust several more times, taking longer to find his end. Then, suddenly, he stopped, his hips flush against her. He growled, loud and long, screaming the gruff sound into the chamber. As soon as he finished, he rolled off her.

  Sated and somewhat stunned, Jayne let her legs fall onto the bed. He breathed hard, not moving to pull her into his arms as he lay beside her. Gone was the considerate lover, replaced by the hard warrior who had just fucked her.

  Before Ronen, sex had just been sex—a means to find selfish, momentary pleasure and nothing more. She hadn’t realized just how different Ronen was, how tender and thoughtful he could be until he took that part of himself away. Now, as he took all emotion out of sex, she became all too aware of what she was losing. With Ronen, there had always been an intensity, uncalculated, unplanned, just there. But, how did she get something like that back?

  Jayne made no move to touch him, even though her fingers twitched and her hand lifted. She glanced at him but had to look away. She hated the cold chill in his eyes, despised herself for forcing it to be there. Maybe she wasn’t meant to be loved or cared for. She wasn’t any good at expressing such emotions, let alone asking for them from someone else.

  Jayne opened her mouth, willing words to come out. She didn’t know what they would be or what they would mean. But then he spoke, stopping her from trying.

  “The king sent men to scout the borderlands,” he said. “I’m going to ride out and join them. If I leave soon, I should be able to find them before they spread out.”

  Jayne didn’t say anything, though questions formed inside her head begging to be asked. You’re leaving me? When will you be back? What if I try to run again? Do you even care? Why won’t my voice work?

  Jayne frowned. She should be happy that he left her alone at the castle. Only now where would she run to? The Caniba had been a mistake. The portal wasn’t anywhere to be found. But escape was what she wanted, wasn’t it? Especially now after what sex with him had been reduced to. Could she really have a purely sexual relationship after she’d seen more from him?

  Ronen rolled out of bed, striding naked across the room. She watched him, unsure what she should say or do, or of what she even wanted.

  Stopping at the door, he refused to look at her as he said quietly, “My people do not put much faith in loving a woman, Jayne. It goes against everything it takes to be a hardened warrior. But what I feel for you has to be as close to that emotion as any knight of Staria can get.”

  Jayne didn’t move, didn’t act or speak. She lay stunned as he walked out of the chamber. Tears sprang into her eyes and a red-hot panic washed over every inch of her being. Instinct yelled for her to run away from any tenderness, said that it didn’t matter if she ran to the Caniba or to live in the forest or to some unknown destination way beyond Ronen’s reach.

  Run, Jayne. Freedom.

  Without thought, she jerked into her clothing, not caring that the blue corset with black laces didn’t exactly match the red of the gown. She placed a strip of cloth between her teeth and brushed her hair away from her face with her fingers as she wal
ked toward the door. Pausing before opening it, she tied her hair at her nape so the locks fell long down her back.

  Touching the knob, she stopped. She heard Ronen on the other side. Her eyes swept over the chamber, knowing before she even looked there was no way out. The stone was too thick and if the windows opened, she didn’t know how.

  Trapped.

  “What I feel for you has to be as close to that emotion as any knight of Staria can get.”

  Run, Jayne. Run far.

  “Why did you have to say that? You could have said anything but that.” She backed away from the door, bumping into the corner of the bed. Jayne didn’t stop until she reached the far corner. Sliding onto the floor, she pulled her knees into her chest and hugged them tight. A tear slid over her cheek. “Goodbye, Ronen. I’m sorry. Now I really can’t stay with you. Trust me when I say it is for the best.”

  * * * * *

  Ronen took a long time getting dressed, partly because his hands shook and partly because he watched the bedchamber door in hopes that Jayne would burst through and say something—anything—to him. He waited and she didn’t.

  What possessed him to speak those words? Had he really expected to be met with anything but the silence she’d given him? Jayne made her position very clear. She wanted nothing to do with him beyond what his body could give.

  Ronen paused on his way out the door, giving her one last chance to come after him. If only she’d ask him not to go to the borderlands, to stay with her for whatever reason she chose to present. If only she would give him a glimmer of hope that what he felt wouldn’t always be one-sided.

  The woman twisted him up inside, made him feel things he never imagined possible. She toyed with his mind, dominated his thoughts and drove his body wild. Ronen had fought many foes in his life, but none so defeating as his fighting Lady Jayne.

  “So be it,” he said to himself, doing his best to steel his nerves as he marched from their shared rooms.

  * * * * *

  Guards? He left her with guards?

  Jayne frowned, staring at the two men standing outside Ronen’s chamber door. They blocked her from leaving as she tried to make her way to the hall to get something to eat before exploring her options for escape from within the castle. Recognizing them as a couple of her singing companions from the night before, she forced a fake smile. “Why hello there, boys. Come to take a lady to lunch?”

  The knights shared confused glances.

  “To break my fast in the main hall,” she explained, wondering why they didn’t smile at her.

  “Our orders are to escort you to the queen’s chambers,” Sir Harol answered. “This way, my lady.”

  “What if I order you, as a lady, to let me do what I want?” She batted her lashes and Harol looked as if he might waver.

  “You do not have the authority to supersede our orders, my lady,” the stoic Richard explained.

  “Even if I promise to go to the queen’s chambers after I eat?” Jayne kept her attention on Harol, the younger and more malleable of the two.

  “We will see that a tray is brought to the queen’s chambers for my lady.” Richard motioned that she was to walk. Jayne stepped in front of him, feeling more like a prisoner than a guest.

  “Did Ronen send you to guard me while he’s gone?” Jayne asked. Even though the fact annoyed her, it also gave her a small sense of pleasure to know he cared enough to try to hold onto her.

  “Turn right,” Harol said.

  Instead, Jayne walked straight into the main hall. Several of the tables were filled with knights. A couple bent over papers, drawing their fingers across maps. Others sat in deep conversation, slapping their hands to make a point. At her entrance, they turned to her and nodded in greeting. Jayne smiled back, unable to help herself.

  “My lady,” Richard insisted.

  “What are you going to do?” Jayne arched a brow, shooting him with her most withering look. “Carry me?”

  “If I must,” he blustered.

  Jayne laughed. She’d like to see him try. Noticing Dersly, she called to the man, “If you get these two sons of a whoring cat off my back, I’ll owe you one!”

  Dersly chuckled, but shook his head in denial. “Methinks my lady can handle her own cats well enough.”

  “Some champion you are,” she teased, before sighing heavily. “Very well then, at least throw me the bread before they march me away.”

  Dersly obeyed, grabbing a loaf from the basket next to him and tossing in her direction. Jayne caught it and lifted it up in thanks.

  “My lady,” Richard insisted.

  “Quit crowding me,” Jayne warned him, growing more and more annoyed with each passing second. The pleasure she felt in Ronen caring about her staying soon faded into irritation at her personal guards’ doggedness. “I’ll go, but I’m walking at my own pace.”

  She took a deliberate bite of her bread, ripping it from her mouth. A few of the watching knights chuckled. Richard said nothing, but his face tightened in irritation. Harol tried to hide his smirk and failed.

  “Well then, let’s get moving,” she ordered playfully, leading the way toward the queen’s chambers. “That way you boys can be on your merry ways.”

  “You are our merry way, my lady,” Harol said.

  When Jayne frowned in confusion, Richard explained, “We’ve been assigned as your personal guard until after Lord Ronen returns.”

  It was her turn to harden. Not saying another word, her pace quickened. That whoreson! He’s going to need to assign more than two men if he expects to keep me prisoner.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Lady Jayne, it’s been nearly two weeks.” Queen Patricia frowned, staring at the noblewoman who’d been bound and gagged and now lay protesting on her bed. “Do you not think the time for these mischiefs has come to an end?”

  Jayne glared at her and growled, “Mrumpinumph.”

  The queen sighed, sitting delicately on a chair to rub her temples. “I didn’t think so.”

  “Murmamer.” Jayne struggled to be free, but the knots binding her only tightened. It was probably a good thing no one could understand what she was saying. The sensitively feminine queen would undoubtedly have her drawn and quartered for her language. “Mumonmofamaf.”

  Jayne snorted. Yeah, like I’m going to wax bloody poetic just to sound like some sort of flowery lady. I should have punched her when I had the chance. Damn you, Ronen, for leaving me here. Couldn’t you have picked a nice, damp, dark prison cell? Surely being tortured on some sort of rack is better than this agony.

  “Fine.” The queen dropped her hands into her lap as if coming to a decision. “I will just have to give you your lessons like this. Perhaps with a gag in your mouth you’ll be able to actually listen to what I tell you and not aggravate me.”

  Oh, bloody misery, no! Jayne struggled harder, kicking and bucking on the bed. Anything but this! Help! Ronen, remember the Caniba who held me prisoner? This is worse.

  “Let us speak about hair,” the queen said, reaching to the table to pick up a comb. Jayne thought about crying. “A lady must never leave her chambers without first combing and styling her hair, preferably with the help of a servant. This also goes for when a lady finds herself staying in the encampments in her husband’s tent near the battlefront. It gives the warriors a sense of pride and duty to have a visual of what they are fighting for. It is also a great honor to your family name to take pride in your appearance and manners.” Putting the comb on her lap, the queen lifted her hands to pull at the fine clips holding her locks into place. “Should you find yourself without a servant, or mirror, it is up to you to still look your best.” Long hair spilled over her shoulders. “I will now demonstrate a few simple techniques you can practice later. After today, I do not want to see your hair about your shoulders.”

  Jayne’s eyes widened in horror and she tried to roll over so she didn’t have to watch. This was worse than jumping into a portal right after a tough fight. In fact, she’d r
ather have the sensation of her bloody body being torn apart than sit through a full day of hairstyling lessons.

  “If you look away, I’ll only repeat myself,” the queen warned. “I have no place to be. The king has ridden out to hunt with the men. The larders needed filling for winter.”

  Jayne growled, but settled onto the bed, lying the best she could in her bound state.

  “As with all rules there are exceptions,” the queen continued, as if Jayne hadn’t interrupted her. “In this case if a lady finds herself under attack at night, whether it be in castle or encampment, there is clearly no time to attend personal matters. That would be selfish and vain and set a poor example for the women who will come after us. Only then is it acceptable to be seen undone. Oh, which brings me to the point of traveling by horseback overnight.”

  Oh, please, someone, anyone, kill me now.

  * * * * *

  “All clear, my lord,” Stephans said, reining his horse near Ronen’s. “No fresh tracks along the west section and the ground is undisturbed. None of the Caniba people have risen from the earth.”

  Ronen nodded. With Stephans’ arrival, all of the men had now reported in. The borderlands of Daggerpoint were secured. The Caniba queen concentrated her efforts further west at Spearhead.

  “Double the patrol anyway,” Ronen ordered, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d ridden hard, searching the forest in hopes of a battle—not that he wanted the Caniba to attack so close to the queen’s and his wife’s current residence. He just longed for an outlet to his pent-up frustrations. “I will not trust Sorceress Magda to leave these borders alone. She could be trying to focus our efforts at Spearhead only to attack here when our guard is down. It is possible she wanted us to find her spies in the forest.”