by Sue Lyndon
Beneath her, the unmistakable bulge of his hardness pressed against her center, and her blood heated with the knowledge of what his stiffness meant. He wanted her. He’d take her again. Soon.
She hoped.
Releasing her wrists, he kept one hand attending to her tight bottom hole and his other hand delved between her thighs. At first, his touch was light. Gentle. Teasing. It drove her mad as he thrust slowly in and out of her backside while brushing his fingertips over her throbbing parts, not paying enough attention to the button he’d circled earlier when he’d brought her to ecstasy. When she didn’t think she could take another second of teasing, he applied steady pressure to her pleasure spot, circling her nub while keeping submerged in her bottom hole. The combined sensations pushed her over and into bliss for the second time that day.
She collapsed over his lap, panting as the pulsing remnants of her release faded. Then he gathered her in his arms and held her close to his heart. She latched onto him, feeling as if he was the shelter she’d desperately needed during the storm that was her life. A sense of safety overcame her, and in that moment as she rested her cheek against his chest, she’d never felt so calm and content. And loved.
He stripped off her clothing, undressed himself, and then took her more roughly than he’d taken her the first time. Pinning her to the bed, her sore bottom pressed against the covers as he claimed her, he drove into her with rapid, deep strokes. He held her gaze the entire time, staring down at her with an intensity that both frightened and calmed her. He stroked and kneaded her breasts, coaxing her nipples to harden so painfully they burned with sensation. Each tug on her stiff peaks sent jolts of pleasure straight to her inner core.
“Anna.” He growled her name before his hardness jerked inside her, and he kissed her deeply, swallowing her cries as she came undone in his arms.
* * * * *
In the following days, Anna settled into the cottage. She found cooking wasn’t as difficult as she had feared, and Bronson was patient as he taught her several of his mother’s recipes. She tended to the garden while he went hunting or fishing each day, and on the mornings he joined the men on the docks she accompanied him into town.
At first the townspeople avoided her, acting as if they were scared to speak to her. It wasn’t until she’d played a game of hop feet with the children in the square that they relaxed in her presence and began greeting her with a smile.
Life was much different in Cimastown than in Iverson City. The pervasive sense of fear she’d felt within the city walls didn’t exist here. People were laidback, though extremely hardworking. She loved the open skies that weren’t blocked out by a wall, the freedom she felt from simply taking a stroll through town. There were no soldiers, no one to intimidate the townspeople at every corner. Food wasn’t scarce in Cimastown as it had been in the city. Everywhere she turned, she glimpsed gardens and potted vegetables. Fisherman took their catches to the marketplace each day and many of the men hunted on the hillside and further into the island. No one starved. No one lived in fear. It was as close to paradise as Anna had ever been, and she supposed it was a better life than she might have found across the sea.
The first day Bronson left her alone to go hunting, she’d buried her jewelry in a box in a wooded area behind their garden. She’d be happy to never look at the glittering jewels again, and she hoped she never had reason to dig them up.
An elderly seamstress created a small wardrobe for Anna, for which she was very grateful. The clothing was simple but elegant, the style matching that of the other ladies in town with flowing skirts and puffy sleeves. It wasn’t the finery she was used to, but she felt pretty and feminine in the garments nonetheless, and they were practical for working as they didn’t constrict her chest like the styles she’d worn in the castle.
Twice a week, Anna spent the morning in the one room schoolhouse on the edge of town. The two teachers, sisters named Marianne and Elizabeth, were very capable in their command of the classroom and to Anna’s surprise, highly educated. Their late mother had sent them to school in the Rastian Empire before the war, and they were knowledgeable in math, the sciences, and many foreign languages. Though Anna had always dreamed of having a classroom of her own, she was careful not to step on their toes. Instead of teaching, she found joy in practicing reading and writing with several of the students who needed the extra help. She was happy to have found a way to contribute to Cimastown, and Bronson encouraged her volunteering.
She tried to keep busy, because when she slowed down she thought about Iverson City and the revolution. Bronson had explained to her that the leaders who overthrew her family wouldn’t name a new king. Instead, they would hold an election for a new leader every few years. She’d never heard of such a system, but she supposed it might work.
From the whisperings about the fighting around town, she’d gathered that her father and brother hadn’t been captured yet, though the castle had fallen and most of the soldiers loyal to the crown were held captive. Bronson avoided her questions about the fighting when she asked, but if she walked slowly through town and paused near a gathering of people, she’d hear the news anyway. Apparently there were several scouts, young boys, who regularly ran missives to the towns outside the city walls. Anna supposed more men would return to Cimastown once King Mendel and Prince Tamlen were captured.
Where could they be? Bronson claimed no ships had sailed out of any port since the start of the fighting, so it seemed they must be hiding somewhere on the island. A thought occurred to her as she walked home from the schoolhouse one day. The castle had many secret rooms, and perhaps they were still within the walls of it. Multiple tunnels led out from the dungeon, or so she’d heard. She’d never been down there, too afraid of the screams that echoed through the hallways.
The wind blew through her hair as she paused on the hillside to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. She’d found true happiness here in Cimastown. With Bronson. A flush crept up her neck as she recalled the playful spanking he’d given her before bedtime last night. In between light slaps, he’d caressed her bottom cheeks and fondled her cunny. She’d begged him to take her, and he’d prolonged her torture by ordering her to drop to her knees and take his cock in her mouth. “If you’re a good girl and swallow every last drop, Anna, I will give you the release you’re aching for.”
Under his tutelage, she’d licked the tip of his length and gradually taken him into her mouth. He’d guided her to move her head forward and backward as she sucked him, and when his warm salty essence spurted into her mouth, she’d dutifully swallowed. After that he’d buried his head between her legs and brought her to a sweet release that left her shuddering and breathless.
As she wondered how long it would take until she was with child, she turned to gaze at the water, hoping to see a sea dragon stretching its long, scaled neck in the breeze as it came up for air. But she didn’t see a sea dragon. Or any sea creature at all.
She saw a thousand ships sailing toward the island. The ship at the front of the fleet flew a massive red flag with black stripes. A Rastian flag.
Her stomach flipped and her blood turned to ice. Glancing down the hill, she spotted the townspeople running through the streets, and the same warning bell that rang out if a sea dragon swam too close to shore pierced the air.
The island was under attack.
* * * * *
“You can’t leave!”
Bronson ignored Anna’s continued protests and affixed his sword belt to his waist. It felt heavy and strange. Now that Anna was safe in Cimastown, he hadn’t anticipated the need for it. He hadn’t planned on returning to hunting down criminals. That part of his life had ended when he married Anna, and he’d been content to focus on her and his life in Cimastown. But now it appeared the island was in trouble with foreign enemies.
The Rastian ships had sailed past Cimastown and toward the city. The town was safe for now, thank the gods, but he doubted the revolutionaries who’d crushed King Mendel’
s regime were prepared to fight again so soon. As a result, all the capable men in Cimastown were readying themselves to march to Iverson City. They’d travel through the night and hopefully reach the city before it was too late. Missives had been sent to all the little towns on the island, issuing a call to arms to defend their homeland against the foreign invaders.
He hated to leave Anna, but he had no choice. She’d be safe in Cimastown. For now, the Rastians would be more concerned with the city.
“Anna, you must calm down!” He used the scolding tone he used with her when she was in trouble, and she immediately quieted. Holding her out by the shoulders, he stared into her blue depths, his heart breaking to see tears in her gorgeous, wide eyes. “I will return in a few days. You have nothing to fear, except all the spankings I will owe you for missing those days.” He smiled at his own joke, hoping to break the tension.
She grasped his face and stepped on her tiptoes to kiss him. “If you can find my father, perhaps the Rastians will be satisfied if you surrender him to their custody. They can’t already have knowledge of his downfall. They must have been planning their retaliation for years, building up their fleet to seek vengeance because of the mercenaries my father hired that nearly destroyed their kingdom.”
Bronson had the same thoughts about the Rastians, and he smiled down at Anna, thinking she was as intelligent as she was beautiful. The problem lay in finding her father. Her brother, too. Prince Tamlen had advised his father during the war against the Rastian Empire, and it would be smart to turn them both over to the foreigners’ justice. Perhaps the Rastians’ bloodlust would be satisfied and they would depart the island as friends. It was the best possible outcome to hope for. Bronson only hoped the new leaders were wise enough to see the logic in such a gesture.
“I provided a layout of the castle, including all the hidden rooms we discovered during our adventures, to the rebels, Anna. That was my contribution to the cause and how I guaranteed your freedom.” Now that he was leaving, the truth came spilling out. He hadn’t lied to her about his involvement in the revolution, he just hadn’t told her the complete truth for fear that she’d feel betrayed.
A fat tear rolled down her cheek, and she backed away from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His jaw clenched. “Because I wanted you to love me, Anna. I didn’t want to give you cause to hate me. You were already reluctant enough to marry me. I’m sorry I kept the truth from you.”
Silence loomed between them as she stared at him with pain clouding her gaze. Guilt over his deception stabbed at his insides, his gut twisting with remorse. Urgency consumed him. It was time to leave, time to join the rest of the men marching on the city. Yet he couldn’t turn his back on Anna and walk out the door. He was torn between his duty to his homeland and his love for his wife. He cursed the gods for putting him in such a position.
“Say something, Anna.”
Breaking his gaze, she moved to the window and stared out into the garden. “I suppose I wouldn’t have been pleased with you, had you told me the full truth in the beginning. I’m a little shocked though. I hadn’t realized your role in the revolution had been so large.” She turned to face him. “If my father’s still out there and if he discovers what you’ve done, your life will be in danger. He’s a vengeful man, Bronson. You must find him before he finds you. There are hidden rooms in the castle we never explored together. Rooms I found long after my father banished your family. Perhaps my father and brother are hiding in one of them.”
The pressure squeezing his chest eased as the pain left her eyes and she gave him a sad smile. “You aren’t angry with me, Anna? You don’t feel betrayed?”
“No, I’m not angry with you, and you could never betray me, Bronson.” She grasped his hand and led him outside, quickly telling him of all the secret passages and hidden rooms she’d discovered after his family left the castle. Then, to his surprise, she pulled him into the woods and knelt on the forest floor. Before he could question her actions, she began digging in the soil. “I have a secret I kept from you too, and perhaps it can help appease the Rastians.”
She pulled a wooden box from the ground and opened it, revealing priceless jewels, diamond necklaces, pearls, and sparkling golden tiaras. “I confess I don’t know how much this is worth, but perhaps the Rastians might be tempted to leave the island alone if they are compensated in some way for all the terror my father inflicted upon them.”
His eyes brimmed with resolution and she lifted her chin, looking brave, hopeful, and beautiful with the midday sun glinting off the lighter streaks in her warm brown hair. “Give King Mendel to the Rastians, and give them Prince Tamlen, and give them the former Princess Anna’s most sincere apologies for all the strife her family has caused them. Tell them the jewels are a gesture of friendship between our new government and their empire.”
Bronson stared down at her in awe. Her plan could work, as long as he arrived at the city in time, before any fighting broke out. He accepted the box and kissed Anna, marveling at her resilience and strong spirit.
“I love you,” she breathed. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “I will come back to you, Anna, and then we will fill our cottage with little princes and princesses.”
* * * * *
Fear blanketed Cimastown. The few men who’d stayed behind kept guard along the borders. The women and children went about their days in hushed whispers and no one lingered in the streets. School was canceled until further notice. Most mothers wished to keep their children close in case the Rastians appeared over the hillside or sailed into the abandoned port a few miles up shore.
Anna spent her days toiling in the garden and lighting prayer candles at night for Bronson and the rest of the men. Missives arrived three days after she’d said her goodbyes to her husband, and the news was grim. The Rastians had captured the new elected leader, a man by the name of William whom Bronson had mentioned to her before. Apparently he’d been the driving force behind the revolution.
At least the messengers claimed a long, bloody battle hadn’t occurred. The capture had been quick and with minimal loss of life, occurring hours before Bronson and the rest of the Cimastown men had arrived at the city. She prayed he was all right, but knew he wouldn’t return until he located her father and brother.
She’d already forgiven him for not divulging the whole truth about his role in the revolution. As angry as she’d been over having no choice in her marriage to him, she understood his reasoning for keeping the secret. Now there were no secrets between them. She’d handed over the box of jewels she’d kept hidden, surrendering her only chance to escape the island. Though she’d done so under duress, she didn’t regret her decision. The gift very well might influence the Rastians to spare all those on the island, with the exception of her father and brother of course.
On the tenth day of the men's absence, Anna spotted a ship with a red, black-striped flag sailing past Cimastown. It headed out to sea in the early morning, and she climbed a tree beside the cottage, desperate to see if more ships would follow.
Her heart pounded when the rest of the fleet sailed by, their Rastian flags flying high and proud as they departed the island. Fear compressed her chest, making it difficult to breath. The men hadn’t returned yet, and a missive hadn’t arrived in two days.
Anna knew better than anyone that a lot could happen in two days’ time.
As she watched the last ship disappear on the horizon against the setting sun, she wondered if her father and brother were prisoners on one of the ships.
She recalled Bronson’s departing comment about filling their cottage with little princes and princesses and smiled as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Come home to me, you brute. You promised.
Chapter 7
A bone-weary Bronson climbed the hillside, inhaling the scent of the sea. Stars sparkled above, and the full moon shone bright upon the trees. He paused at the top of the hill an
d glimpsed the moon and stars’ reflection in the water. It was past midnight and the men from Cimastown had set up camp in the woods. They would arrive tomorrow, all of them safe having barely suffered a scratch. Bronson had been so eager to see Anna that he continued in the darkness. He would sleep once she was in his arms.
The glow of candles, many of them, filled the windows of the cottage. Bronson smiled, touched that Anna had sent up so many prayers in his absence. Then he frowned as he entered his home. Candles burned on the windowsills, much too near the curtains. Wax dripped on the furniture and the floor. He spotted Anna, slumped over the table in the kitchen, holding a burning candle in her hand.
Right next to her head.
Locks of her hair were spread out on the surface, and it was a miracle she hadn’t set herself on fire. He extinguished the candle in her hand, then quickly moved to blow out those that threatened to ignite the curtains. The silly girl.
He removed his sword belt and hung it on a rack near the door. Anna stirred and sat up, blinking. Her eyes widened with joy when she saw him, and she jumped up so fast her chair fell backward with a thud.
“Anna,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Gods, how he’d missed her. Too many moons had risen since he’d held her in his arms.
Her worried gaze swept over him as she approached. “You’re unhurt?” She touched his chest tentatively, and when he nodded she lunged at him, hugging him so fiercely she cut off his air. She pulled back to rain kisses on his face, even atop his scar. Tugging his shirt out of his trousers, she reached up to press her bare hands to his chest.
All thoughts of scolding her for being careless with the candles fled. Holding her face between his hands, he claimed her mouth, his tongue darting inside as he took command of the kiss, tasting her and loving her like a starved man setting upon a feast. He had missed her smiles and her tinkling laughter. He had missed her soft body next to him at night. And gods, how he had missed holding her in his arms and listening to her breathe.
