What the Marquess Sees

by Amy Quinton

“Curiosity is the lust of the mind.”

  ― Thomas Hobbes

  The Barn…

  They were sleeping in an abandoned barn. La, a barn. Had someone told her she’d one day be sleeping in the hayloft of a derelict barn, Beatryce would have laughed until her sides split. Then called upon the warden at Bedlam.

  Yet here she was. In a barn that looked as if it hadn’t been used in a century or more. A hole in the roof offered her a clear view of the night sky above her head. The air around her was damp and chilly, making her nose cold despite the mound of blankets covering her from her chin on down.

  She’d been wrapped up in Dansbury’s arms when she went to sleep, cocooned and cozy beneath a hundred blankets.

  For warmth. Simply warmth. Honest.

  And she’d slept more deeply than she ever had in her life, despite lying on a thin bed of musty hay. Yet now she was wide awake and shivering. Dansbury was gone and based on the feel of his side of their ‘bed’, he’d been away for some time.

  She knew better than to think anything was wrong. Dansbury was a big boy and could take care of himself. But now that she was awake, she realized she needed to find the ladies’ retiring room. She chuckled to herself as she imagined a fancy room, complete with maids and toiletries, hidden amidst the trees outside.

  Luckily, the moon was out and she was able to make out the top of the ladder to their loft. She crawled toward it trying not to stumble over her voluminous dress in the process.

  She failed. At one point, she placed her left knee too far forward, stepped on her dress with it, and planted her face into the rank hay as she tried to move her right leg. She inhaled a breath full of musty straw and came up sputtering.

  She sniggered at her clumsiness and pulled a few stray pieces of hay from her hair. Then, she pulled her dress free and tried again. This time she made it to the ladder without trouble. Though as she swung her leg over to the first rung, she managed to knock a heap of hay over the edge of the loft and to the floor below. Oops. Based on the weight and feel of the pile, she might have tossed over a few blankets as well. Guess they’d find out what was lost in the morning. It was too dark below to see anything, making it pointless to bother searching now.

  She picked her way down the ladder with light feet, desperate to be as quiet as possible. It seemed to take forever, but before long, she was on the ground. Beatryce stepped cautiously across the dirt-covered floor, occasionally turning her ankle on churned earth. Other spots were wet and mushy causing her feet to slip and slide, but with no light to see, all she could do was tread carefully. Clouds had temporarily covered the moon making everything as dark as pitch. Fortunately, she knew there was nothing in the barn to bar her way. She simply walked with arms outstretched until she felt the rough wood of the wall on the opposite side from the loft. Then felt her way along it until she found the door to the outside.

  She pushed the door open and stepped out. She could just make out some ambiguous shapes, but only enough to give her a vague sense of direction.

  Still no sign of Dansbury.

  He’s probably out on patrol.

  She laughed at the image of him marching the perimeter, eyes alert, playing soldier. She shook off the ridiculous image and headed toward the trees and the general direction of a small pool of water Dansbury had told her about yesterday. It would be the perfect place to clean up after seeing to her personal needs.

  A few minutes into the woods and Bea wished the clouds would break apart and reveal the moon so she could see. She could feel a slight breeze blowing through the trees, and she hoped that higher up, the wind would finally move the clouds along. As it was, she progressed slowly from tree to tree, arms outstretched, trying to ignore what she couldn’t see beneath her feet.

  Sometimes the ground was squishy, and she cursed herself for not taking the time to put on her shoes. Other times, she could hear the crunch of sticks and fallen leaves below her feet. She hoped that the ground remained reasonably level, but she had no way of knowing for sure. For that reason, she proceeded with extra care.

  After a few more minutes, though it felt like hours, Bea could tell she had almost reached her destination. She could just make out the smell and sound of water as it lapped upon its rocky shore. She was just about to take another step when a break finally opened up in the clouds, revealing an almost-full moon.

  Ahead of her, the moonlight glinted off a small body of water just visible through a gap framed by two large boulders. She was near the edge of the woods; there were only a few more trees to pass and a short open area to cross before she reached the entrance to the pool.

  At last.

  Now that she could see, Bea picked up her pace. She left the woods behind, crossed the gap, and peered cautiously around the boulders.

  And realized that she wasn’t alone.

  Dansbury…was at the pool.

  He looked odd there, lying amongst the rocks. She nearly stepped out and made some quip about it, but her voice died in her throat when she realized he was…

  Stark. Naked.

  Bare as the day he was born naked.

  He lay sprawled across one large boulder, one knee bent and chin tilted to the moon as if offering himself upon some alter to the Gods.

  She wanted to be the goddess who worshiped his sacrifice.

  She could see the long length of him—from head to toe—as she approached, slowly and quietly, from his side. She could not help but take full advantage of the view…to look upon him in secret…to fill her eyes with the sight of him, without his knowledge and the frequent look of condescension he threw her way.

  Goodness. He was a man in his prime, and she had never seen the like. Light and shadows played off the muscles in his arms and thighs as they rippled with his movement. One foot was planted firmly on a lower rock, his foot wide and long…masculine.

  He groaned, and she almost fell to her knees right there on the rocks. She subconsciously took another step and he groaned again. Now that she was closer, she could see why.

  Oh, God she knew why…

  He was pleasuring himself.

  One large hand was wrapped firmly around his turgid manhood as he stroked, slow and steady.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  The head of his cock peeked out, then disappeared in his firm, sure grip.

  She was close enough now to see the muscles in his abdomen clench with each stroke. She longed to go to him, to be the one to ease him. Yet she couldn’t move. She was frozen as she watched, transfixed, at the obvious pleasure written plain across his face and in every inch of his lean, taut body.

  Again, his hand stroked up, and she squeezed her legs together in response, an echo of pleasure pulsed in her core.

  He stroked down, and she could feel wetness release between her legs.

  Lord, he was beautiful. Painfully beautiful. Like a god himself. Untouchable and unreal. At least for her.

  He gritted his teeth in pleasure-pain as he continued to plunge and pull his long, hard cock, the muscles of his arm flexing and bulging with every stroke.

  Her nipples stood erect and tingled. She wanted his lips on her breasts, his tongue tweaking and circling the buds before he sucked one nipple into his mouth while he caressed the other…while she stroked his manhood with her hands; not him.

  Or licked the head with her mouth.

  She’d never performed fellatio before, but he looked so desirable there before her, his manhood so large and firm, she suddenly longed to experience the act.

  As if he was in harmony with her thoughts, he began to move faster and faster, and Bea could tell his crisis drew near. She could see the obvious signs of desire ripple across his face as he gritted his teeth, and her heart beat faster and in time with his every stroke.

  Then, he went taught and for a moment everything froze. Even the earth seemed to stop spinning on its axis and the wind appeared to hold its breath.

  Then with a shout, he yelled, “God, Bea!” as h
e found his release.

  Beatryce’s heart fell to her knees with those words. Impossible, glorious words.

  And unlike the strong woman she knew herself to be, she ran. Ran from those words. From him. From them. Unmindful and uncaring of the noises she made with her hasty retreat.

  Chapter 23

  “If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane.”

  ― Robert Frost

  The Next Morning…

  “Bea, wake up. We have a problem.”

  Beatryce didn’t even move, much less acknowledge him. He squatted down beside her. It wasn’t easy for he was wrapped in a large blanket with two corners loosely tied together over his shoulder to hold it in place.

  He nudged her again, but all she did was emit a soft snore and carry on in blissful slumber. He hated to wake her; he knew she hadn’t slept well last night.

  A ray of sunshine burst through the hole in the ceiling illuminating the loft and bathing her face in light making her hair and skin appear to glow. She scrunched her nose, probably at the sudden warmth, but carried on sleeping. He turned his head just so and caught a glimpse of tiny dust motes dancing in the light’s rays. For a moment, he imagined they were little fairies coming down from the heavens to view the sleeping Fae princess.

  He shook his head. What nonsense was this? He didn’t have time to wax poetic about her beauty. They had a real problem to address.

  He reached out and shook her again. This time, he raised his voice, speaking just shy of a shout. “Bea, wake up!”

  Beatryce blinked open her eyes. He knew she’d had little sleep last night. Especially after the eyeful she’d gotten of him pleasuring himself.

  Oh, yes. He knew she’d seen it all. And he knew she’d tossed and turned the night through because of it. Or, at least, that was his possibly arrogant assumption.

  He shoved aside such thoughts with a promise to address them later. Right now, they, or at least he, had bigger problems.

  Beatryce sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Eyes that were so beautiful to behold, and probably gritty from a lack of sleep. She blinked again and looked up at him a moment. Her eyes automatically lowered to the general vicinity of his groin. He was completely covered, but she blushed and turned away anyway. It was ludicrous; she was no innocent, and she’d already seen all he had to offer. Twice now.

  He’d explore her odd behavior later.

  “Bea, we have a problem. My clothes are gone.”

  That got her attention. She turned back around to face him, her eyes wide. “What do you mean gone?”

  “I mean gone. They were in the loft and now they’re not.”

  He still couldn’t believe it.

  “Did you check the floor below? I may have knocked them off last night.” She blushed again as she likely thought of what she’d seen because she’d ventured outside the hayloft last night.

  Yea, they’d definitely address that later.

  “I checked every inch of this barn from top to bottom. Three times. They are not here.”

  Her eyes widened again and then she burst out laughing. Not a titter or a giggle. No, not Beatryce. No, she let loose a hard belly-aching-side-splitting laugh that almost made him laugh, too. Despite the seriousness of his predicament.

  “Bea, it’s not funny,” he said with a smile. He couldn’t help it.

  “Oh, it is funny…ha ha ha…all right. It’s very…tee hee…funny. It is absolutely…snort…unbelievably hysterical, it’s so funny.” She managed between large, wailing guffaws and the odd snort or two.

  He could not believe she was laughing about this.

  “Bea. Seriously.”

  She laughed that much harder.

  “Fine, it might be a little funny, but it’s still a problem. So if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you could pull yourself together and give me a hand with this.”

  She just doubled over and laughed some more and it made him want to gather her up in his arms and kiss her senseless. Which was absurd. Apparently, taking the edge off last night hadn’t helped. God, he was in a bad way.

  But she just looked so carefree when she laughed, with her head tilted back and her arms wrapped around her waist. Her laughter was the thing that had attracted him the first time he’d seen her on that darkened terrace so long ago. Her laugh; it held the power to captivate him.

  Every time her amusement began to subside, she’d look at him and start howling and snorting all over again.

  “Don’t look at me if it’s going to make you laugh,” he said with a bit of a chuckle himself.

  It seemed like ten minutes passed before her laughter began to trail off for good. He’d long since given up squatting and was sitting on his bottom with his back against the wall.

  Her laughter was only coming in fits and giggles now. When her breathing finally returned to some semblance of normalcy, she said, “All right. I’ll help you look around and see what we can find,” as she wiped the remains of tears from her eyes.

  Half an hour later they knew exactly what had happened. He, with a scratchy blanket wrapped around him like an ill-fitting toga, and she, with her perfectly functional oversized dress (he was actually a touch jealous now) managed to find the remains of his clothes hanging from the mouths of a pair of goats.

  Goats.

  And there was nothing left to salvage, damned beasties.

  The sight of his shredded clothes started Beatryce’s hysterics all over again. He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers impatiently, but with a small smile, as he waited for her to calm down. Again.

  “Are you finished?”

  “Perhaps,” she said with more than a little cheek. She was in a damn fine mood this morning, all things considered.

  “Good, then let’s move on and see if we can find an abandoned house to go with this barn. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and find me some more appropriate clothing.”

  “Fine,” she chuckled again, “I’ll go to the left, and you head out to the right. We’ll meet back here in an hour.” Snort.

  He shook his head. “Bea, I cannot have you wandering off on your own.”

  “Please, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. There is no one here for miles. And I know what I’m about. Worry about yourself. That blanket offers scant protection for your backside.” And she left, laughing again as she walked away.

  He reluctantly let her go.

  *

  An hour later, he returned to the barn with nothing to show for his search save a few scratches on his exposed arms and legs and a new tear in his blanket-dress. He refused to acknowledge the thorns he’d had to pull out of his arse. Stupid briars.

  He hoped to God Bea’d had better luck. He tried not to worry over the fact that she wasn’t back.

  Ten minutes later, though, and he was prepared to go searching for her. It was with relief when he heard her call out. “Dansbury?”

  “Here…” He stood away from the barn wall.

  She stepped out of the woods with her arms behind her back and a wide smile on her face. “Well, I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

  “All right…” he said with some hesitation.

  “The good news is I found some clothes, but…”

  “But…”

  “Weeelll, they’re not exactly what you had in mind.”

  “All right…”

  Slowly, she pulled one arm from behind her back and with a face devoid of any trace of humor, held out an over-sized…

  …dress…

  A large, multi-flowered, grease-splattered, heavily-patched, tent-sized dress. One that made hers look like it was custom-made from the pages of La Belle Assemble.

  “Are you crazy?” Was she crazy?

  “Well, it is better than what you’ve got on now.” She nodded at his toga blanket. “At least this will stay…up.”

  He stared her down and tried to determine whether or not she was serious.

  Her mouth didn’t even twitch.

  Damn. She was. She
was honest to God serious, and he could scarcely believe it. He shook his head in disbelief when he realized she was right. He had no choice. Damn.

  He turned to go inside the barn. “Fine. Bring it.” He turned and pointed a finger at her. “But turn your back.”

  Yea. His request was ridiculous. She’s seen him completely naked. Twice. But for some reason it felt wrong to let her see him put on a dress. A dress!

  Once inside, he took the frock and waited for her to turn her back before he threw the dress over his head and gathered up his blanket.

  The dress sagged in the front. And he could smell smoke and bacon. Among other unmentionable things. Well, at least they’d be outside. And it was only temporary. God, his friends would never let him live it down; he’d earn himself a nickname for sure if they could see him.

  But he would manage; he was no coward.

  Though he didn’t even look in Bea’s direction as he marched past and said, “Come on, let’s go.”

  She didn’t follow. Instead, she started laughing all over again. He stopped and beseeched the heavens. Then he turned to look back at her.

  Tears streamed down her face, she was laughing so hard. Yea, he looked ludicrous. He knew it. And he couldn’t help but start laughing, too. Laughter truly was contagious. It was all so unbelievably preposterous; he couldn’t invent such a ridiculous situation even if he tried.

  Oddly enough, she started shaking her head no. Strange.

  “No? Why are you shaking your head no?” he said between his own fits of laughter.

  “B-b-b-because. You d-didn’t let me f-finish.”

  “Finish? Finish what?” He was no longer laughing. He had a sinking feeling in his gut.

  “Showing you…snort…my…er…your…other option.”

  Then, she pulled her other arm from behind her back and held out a pair of men’s trousers and a shirt.

  She shrieked as he hiked up his day dress and charged.

  Chapter 24

  "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."

  ― Oscar Wilde

  He caught her just as she made it to the door. His arms wrapped around her waist as he lifted her from behind and pulled her to his chest. She shrieked in protest, but only a token shout for she laughed as well.