‘I am man enough to know where my duty lies,’ Brochon replied with a touch of heat, ‘and that is with my family, not with a pistol-ball in my guts in some mud-pool in the Sologne.’
Faugres answered with a snort of contempt. Brochon rose and began to walk off, Magnien throwing his erstwhile companions an apologetic look and hastening to follow.
‘And now?’ Faugres demanded.
‘I ride for Tours,’ Boillot replied. ‘You follow the river and seek them out. If you succeed, raise a mob against them.’
‘I have no such need,’ Faugres spat. Til pull them apart with my hands!’
‘What luck?’ Henry asked as Gurney and Peggy pushed into the room from the dank November night.
‘Plenty enough boats,’ Gurney answered, ‘but we saw that bell swagger Faugres down along the quay, in an inn.’
‘Faugres!’ Eloise exclaimed. ‘Could you be sure?’
‘Certain sure, miss,’ Gurney answered.
‘The damned fellow’s a zealot!’ Henry declared. ‘Doesn’t he ever give up?’
‘He has always hated me,’ Eloise replied. ‘Why, I don’t know, but I fear he also lusts after me.’
‘We’ll have to get rid of the fellow,’ Henry declared. ‘Any suggestions?’
‘Kill him,’ Eloise said flatly.
‘And have the traps after us for murder?’ Henry replied. ‘A truly profound scheme.’
‘Back in Plymouth, we’d have ’im pressed,’ Gurney put in.
‘Sadly, we are not in Plymouth but Cosne,’ Henry answered. ‘Yet still . . .’
Eloise walked along the quay, shivering both with cold and fear. Ahead were the lights of the shabby waterside inn in which Faugres was lodged. In the warmth and companionship of their hired room, it had been easy to be proud and brave, declining the offers of both Peggy and Natalie to act as bait. Now, among the flickering orange shadows of the quayside, her fear and uncertainty had begun to rise.
Her hand was shaking as she pushed at the rough door of the inn. Every face turned to her as she entered, their expressions showing belligerence, lust, amusement. Faugres was immediately obvious, standing at an upright barrel with a mug in one hand, his great shaggy head rising its full height above those around him. His back was to her, making her task that much more difficult. Moving forward through the press, she made for the opposite side of the room, her eyes constantly on the giant cooper. His put his mug to his face as she drew level, downed the contents and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, turning a little as he did so.
Instantly – or so it seemed to Eloise – he gave a great roar and shot out a massive hand. Eloise screamed and leapt back, despite him being all of twelve feet away. A man blocked Faugres’s path, making a remark in admonition, only to be swept aside. With a frantic lunge, Eloise pushed between a group of men, drawing a curse and a laugh as she scrambled for the door. It opened under her hand and then she was running, her steps pounding loud in her ears as she sped for the pile of bales among which Henry and Todd Gurney were concealed.
Behind her, she heard Faugres’s roar and the slam of the inn door, raising stark terror in her breast. Suddenly the bales seemed impossibly distant, the whole idea completely insane. Faugres would catch her. He would beat both her companions aside, treating them with the same contempt as he had the man who had blocked his path. She would be thrown down among the bales, her skirts wrenched up, her legs spread open . . .
Eloise tripped, half righted herself then stumbled again, to fall among a stack of bales well short of those she had been aiming for. A roar of triumph sounded behind her and she rolled to see Faugres thudding towards her. Scrambling desperately to her feet, she dashed for the open quay, calling out in desperation. A massive hand snatched out, gripping her bodice and tearing downward. She screamed as her breasts burst free of their constraint; then she stumbled back to fall full length among the bales behind her.
Faugres loomed over her, his face a demonic red in the distant torchlight, scarlet eyes staring and teeth set in a triumphant grin. Frozen, she saw his hands go to his belt and pull the buckle loose, then move to the pegs that held in the terrifying bulge in the leather of his breeches.
‘This is for your cunt, whore,’ he snarled.
Eloise shrank back, unable to speak or move, yet painfully aware of the cold night air on her naked breasts. Her eyes were riveted to the pegs of Faugres’s breeches, watching them pop open one by one, each movement bringing the moment of her violation closer.
‘Best do as you’re ordered,’ he growled. ‘Now spread those soft white thighs and show me your cunt.’
Terrified, Eloise moved to obey, watching Faugres’s expression of vicious lust build as she edged up her skirts and opened her legs to display herself. For a moment, his grin broke apart, displaying a thick red tongue-tip. His fingers opened the last catch, his breeches came open and his grossly erect penis broke out as he began to sink down towards her. She gave a broken sob as his hip touched between her open thighs, only dimly registering the sound of pounding boots on stone as she braced herself for rape.
Gurney swung his hand around and brought it down on the back of Faugres’s skull with all his force, a blow that would have rendered most men senseless. The giant roared in pain and turned, hurling a great arm out in a wild swing. Gurney jumped back and swung in again as Faugres fought for balance. The blow impacted the giant’s forehead, forcing another bellow of rage from him. For an instant, Gurney caught a glimpse of Eloise’s face, wide-eyed in more than simple terror. Then the massive body of the Frenchman had come between them, Faugres aiming another vicious swipe even as he struggled to rise. Gurney caught the blow on his arm, driving his fist in as he lurched to the side under the sheer weight of the giant’s swing.
As Faugres staggered upright, Gurney realised that his two blows had been more telling than they had seemed. The huge man was clearly dizzy and, as he swung his arms out in an effort to come to grips with his opponent, Gurney jumped easily away. Faugres gave a furious roar, swinging out blindly. Gurney ducked the blow, darted a jab to his opponent’s stomach and jumped back. Once more Faugres came forward, roaring wildly and swinging punches that met empty air.
Henry’s voice called out from behind and Gurney ducked and turned, leaving the raging giant faced with the barrels of both the late Captain Jinks’s pistols. For a moment, it seemed as if Faugres would charge in regardless, but he slowed and stood back, glaring wordlessly at his antagonists. Beyond Faugres, Eloise appeared, limping slightly and with her breasts hanging free of her bodice.
‘Idiot!’ she managed, addressing Henry. ‘Why weren’t you quicker?’
Faugres looked round, throwing a glare of utter hatred at Eloise, then turned back to Gurney and Henry.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘Henry Truscott, a friend of the demoiselle,’ Henry replied, ‘who I see is in as charming a temper as ever. The fellow with the dowsers is Todd Gurney, a man you would do well to avoid, despite your size. Now, as your breeches are already halfway to the ground, I suggest you pull them off.’
‘What?’ Faugres growled.
‘Undress,’ Henry ordered. ‘You’re going on a boat trip.’
For a moment, Faugres seemed to once more consider the advisability of a renewed assault, then reluctantly began to remove his clothes. They made swift work of tying him, using his clothes and a length of cord to bind his wrists and ankles before gagging him with a cloth. Finding a sack that seemed by the smell to have been used for carrying fish, Gurney pulled it down around the big Frenchman’s shoulders and tied it firmly in place.
Choosing a skiff from among the boats moored below the quay, Gurney and Henry rolled Faugres into it and untied the painter, ignoring the big man’s increasingly furious struggles as he realised what was happening.
‘Bon voyage’ Henry quipped as they pushed the skiff out on to the dark waters of the Loire, ‘and may we sincerely hope it’s a long one.’
The skiff drifted ou
t into the current, spinning slowly. The low black shape became a shadow amongst other shadows, then disappeared entirely, with only the occasional muffled curse providing evidence of Faugres’ continued resistance.
‘Shouldn’t you put your tits back in?’ Henry remarked to Eloise, in an attempt at suavity.
Henry stood up, surveying the landscape from the landau which Gurney had pulled to a stop. They had reached a junction, with tracks leading south and north but a wide lake to the west.
‘North or south?’ he asked Eloise.
‘Am I a Tourangelle peasant girl, that I should know every track in the Sologne?’ Eloise answered with a drunken laugh.
Henry sighed. The previous night, after disposing of Faugres, they had agreed to attempt to cross the Sologne after all. Not only did it seem probable that Faugres’ companions were searching for them, but the ease with which they had been followed suggested that they were simply too conspicuous. Not only might they be caught by their pursuers, but there seemed a high chance of running foul of revolutionary mobs. Recalling the burning seigneuries seen on his journey to Burgundy, Henry had finally given in to the majority.
Eloise had began the day morose and fearful, but drink and the memory of what they had done to Jean Faugres had cheered her, until by noon she was boasting of how she had lured him from the tavern and trying to goad Henry into sex. He had ignored her, despite the temptation, determined to push on and thus ensure that they reached the far side of the great bend of the Loire long before any pursuit that remained. Now they seemed stuck, faced with another of the interminable Sologne tracks, all of which looked the same and none of which appeared willing to take them west. The fiat land of the plateau made matters worse, with an apparently endless succession of bogs, ponds and forest making navigation difficult in the extreme.
‘Let us eat, then,’ he sighed. ‘I will scout a little way to south and north to see if this lake is easily rounded.’
‘As you like sir,’ Gurney responded.
‘I shall come with you,’ Eloise said merrily. ‘I am a little stiff from sitting in one place all morning.’
Henry glanced at her, meaning to suggest that she would only hinder him but finding his eyes locked to the deep, creamy white division of her breasts, across which a curl of red-gold hair lay in artless display. Suddenly, the need for haste seemed less important. Their discussion the previous night had been pessimistic, he reasoned. When he was eventually extricated from the skiff, Faugres would have little choice but to turn back for St Romain, while there had been no sign of their other pursuers at Cosne.
‘A pleasure,’ he said instead. ‘To the south first, I think.’
Peggy threw him a curious look as he climbed down from the landau, half amused, half jealous. Henry returned his brightest smile and pondered asking her to join them, only to abandon the idea. Eloise was plainly drunk and had relaxed the aloof air she still tried to maintain, except when terrified or in the throes of passion. Clearly she was game for dalliance, but Henry was unsure whether the game could be pushed to the point where both women might surrender themselves with equal abandon.
Eloise spun, making the truncated yellow dress rise to show off yet more of her legs. Already dizzy with wine, she slipped and sat down hard on the springy turf, giving a squeak and then a giggle. Henry, she was sure, could not fail to respond to her open flirting, and she was looking forward to the moment when he took her in his arms.
Yet, despite the opportunity presented by her fall, he remained calm, his real feelings betrayed only by the conspicuous bulge in his breeches. She pouted, wondering if his interest was moving towards Peggy and whether he had visited the plump English girl during the night. Anger and determination flared up in her at the thought that he might prefer her maid over her. Turning and pretending to slip once more, she artfully allowed him a glimpse of the red-gold curls between her thighs, then giggled, closed her legs and looked up at him from beneath long eyelashes.
Henry returned a polite smile and glanced away over the lake. Piqued, Eloise followed his gaze, finding only a broad stretch of dark brown mud and then the ruffled surface of the water. Turning back to him, she found him idly scratching the back of his neck.
Torn between the urge to jump to her feet and storm away and the desire to turn on her front and present him with her naked bottom, she did neither, instead giving him a resentful, sulky pout. As his hands went to the buttons of his breeches, her moue turned to a smile. Clearly he had simply been preoccupied, and was now ready to give her what she needed.
She watched as he undressed, admiring his muscular body. Feeling deliriously wanton, she spread her legs apart and put a hand to her cunny, masturbating shamelessly as he stripped. She was wet and quickly becoming wetter as he removed the last of his garments and placed them to the side. His cock was half-erect, jutting from his body with the head already protruding from the foreskin.
‘Take me, Henry,’ she sighed. ‘Take me now.’
He bent, scooping her up so that her thighs spread across his trunk and his cock pressed on her vulva. She groaned and wiggled her bottom to rub herself against the firm shaft, only wishing that it had been hard enough to slide straight into her. Not that it would be long, she realised, as it began to harden against her wriggling cunt. He slid a hand under her bottom, pressing his cock into the groove between her buttocks. It rubbed, and then the head was against her vagina and suddenly she was full of thick, hard penis and groaning out her pleasure to the empty woods.
With her hands around his neck, she began to bounce, laughing and crying out at the blissful sensation of the cock inside her. Henry responded to her movements briefly, then began to walk, quite casually, with her still riding his cock.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked as he moved on to the fringe of grass by the lake. ‘Not on the ground; I like it this way!’
He made no response, but pulled her up from his cock and stood her down on the spongy turf.
‘Hey!’ Eloise protested as firm hands turned her to face the lake. ‘Oh, so be it, then, but there are other parts of me besides my bottom!’
She began to bend, expecting entry from the rear. Henry’s hand went to her bottom, spreading the cheeks. She wondered if she was to be buggered, then squealed with alarm as he gave a sudden and unexpected thrust of his hands.
Henry laughed as Eloise pitched forward to fall face down into the lakeside mud. Her scream of outrage was abruptly cut short as she landed with not only her chest and arms but also her face in the thick brown goo. He was still laughing as she came up spluttering, then cursing after blowing out a mouthful of thick brown-black mud. Trying to stand, she raised herself halfway, only to slip once more and land with a meaty splat, sitting in the glutinous brown mess with her skirts up and the red-gold tangles of her cunny on plain view. One breast had also popped out, peeping over the top of her filthy bodice like a small pink pig looking out of a mud wallow. ‘Will you help me?’ she snapped as she endeavoured to cover her shame with the tattered remains of her dress.
‘Certainly,’ Henry chuckled, and stepped forward carefully, bracing one foot against a decaying branch as he extended a hand.
She gripped it and pulled, her bottom pulling from the mud with a sticky sucking noise. For a moment she hung poised, Henry leaning back to pull her slowly upright. With a soggy crack the branch he was on broke, sending Eloise flying back into the mud while he was forced to flail his arms desperately in order to effect a recovery. Regaining his balance, he found Eloise once more sitting down in the mud, only this time with her legs splayed out at right angles to each other and what remained of her skirt spread like a flower on the mud. The expression of absolute disgust on her face told what had happened as eloquently as did her somewhat pathetic position.
‘I am soiled!’ she groaned. ‘Soiled everywhere!’
‘Which is how I want you,’ Henry assured her. ‘Come on, spread those pretty thighs for me.’
‘Just get me out, you childish idiot!
’ she spat.
Henry laughed and knelt down, his bare knees sinking into the goo, and leant forward. Ignoring her protests, he pushed her back and mounted her, feeling the mud squelch between their bodies as he settled himself between her thighs. Her legs were splayed under him, one of them cocked out at an angle, leaving his crotch in contact with the soft mound of her cunny. Her flesh was slippery with mud and, as she wriggled to free herself from beneath him, her other breast came free.
‘Hold still,’ he ordered, reaching for his still half-stiff penis.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded. ‘Get off, you imbecile!’
He fumbled at his crotch, his knuckles knocking on her mud-smeared pudenda as he began to pull at his cock.
‘Henry!’ Eloise exclaimed in alarm as he put the tip of his half-stiff penis to the slimy inlet of her vagina.
Ignoring her, he tugged hard at his shaft and buried his face in the plump softness of her exposed breasts. Eloise gave a sharp little gasp as the stubble of his cheek brushed a nipple.
‘No! Henry! Not in me . . .’ she faltered even as she abandoned her attempts to escape his hold. ‘I am soiled, really soiled!’
Erect, he pushed his cock at her vagina, finding it cool, slimy, open – yet oddly resistant.
‘Henry, no!’ she squealed, even as his cock began to squash into her vagina.
‘Ah! That is cold,’ he breathed, ‘but good. Your cunt must be full of mud.’
Eloise responded with a noise expressing utter disgust, only for it to change into a low moan as Henry pushed his cock into her. He could feel the mud, firm and heavy against his penis, squeezing out around the sides as he entered her and folding his cock in a clammy embrace.
The sensation of cold mud in her vagina was as exquisite as it was unfamiliar. Drawing in his breath, he began to fuck, pushing Eloise down into the soft mud so that it rose to squash around his balls and at the juncture of his cock and her already filthy vagina. At first she maintained an angry silence but, as he continued to hump merrily away, she began to moan softly and finally to grunt as her arms went around his back and she hugged him to her filthy body.
The Rake Page 16
