Lord Devon and Alistair were both getting dressed. Lord Devon said, “We may not visit your bed for several days. There may still be trouble with Lord Jeffrey and work to do. From now on, you may call me Devon.” He bowed to her, nodded to Alistair, and said, “Come, we must leave.”
Alistair crossed the room and kissed her forehead. “Thank you, my love,” he said softly then followed Devon out the door.
Rhyannon tidied the room, put a clean sheet on the bed, then sat by the fire, waiting for Lady Elinor to come and tell her what she must do next. The hard wooden stool hurt her sore ass, so she moved to sit on a chair, but that hurt, too. Sighing, she took a pillow from the bed, placed it on the chair, and then sat. Ah, that was much better.
* * * *
Devon worried and paced the courtyard of the stronghold as one of the children held his horse and the guards gathered to go and tell Lord Jeffrey his suit had been rejected. If Lord Jeffrey challenged him to a duel, he was reasonably certain he could defeat him in fair combat. Lord Jeffrey had been a cunning and talented fighter, but since the battle for the demesne, he’d lost that sharp edge essential to a warrior. Besides, Devon knew he was fitter and had a longer reach. If the worst happened, and he was killed, Alistair had sworn to protect the Lady Rhyannon anyway, and Lord Rhys would always provide her with a home.
But what if Lord Jeffrey attacked the entire stronghold in revenge? Devon couldn’t bear it if innocent women and children were killed because of his actions.
But then, the innocents always suffered in a war. Chivalry dictated war be between trained fighting men, but sooner or later, castles or towns were besieged, and the families and innocent were entangled in a fight not of their choosing.
When Lord Rhys appeared with Albin right behind him, Devon walked across to speak to him. “Lord?”
“Yes, Lord Devon?”
“If there’s any problem, I wish to engage in personal combat with Lord Jeffrey.”
Rhys stared at Devon until Devon began to wonder if he’d said something inappropriate. But it was a standard response to a challenge.
Then his liege-lord nodded. “It’s a good solution. You know the man and his weaknesses. You have an excellent chance of defeating him. Who do you wish your second to be?”
“I haven’t asked him, but I would request Ebert, my lord.”
“He cares for the Lady Rhyannon and would be motivated to fight for her honor. But he’s young.”
“If my training and skills cannot defeat Lord Jeffrey and his second, Ebert’s youthful energy may.”
“You speak truth. Go, and ask Ebert.”
“I heard, lord, and would be greatly honored to be Lord Devon’s second if he requires one.”
“It is decided then. Mount up.”
It was not yet noon, and the day had seemed to be going on forever. Last night there’d been many hours of discussion and planning, for the wedding, for the formal dinner later today, and for the response to Lord Jeffrey, and what might happen thereafter. Then he’d consummated his marriage, twice, and now he was preparing to fight. Devon couldn’t imagine Lord Jeffrey simply ignoring the slight to his honor by the Lady Rhyannon marrying another man the day after she’d received a formal proposal from a different lord. The only real question was, would he be content to fight only Devon, or would he insist on attacking the stronghold? Last night, their planning had centered around withstanding an attack on the stronghold. Surely, Lord Jeffrey could see he had no hope of winning the castle, whereas a battle between trained soldiers was a much better prospect for both of them.
Devon was determined to win. He planned to disarm the man only. Killing him was unnecessary and would simply cause more trouble for the valley as the men would then be masterless, each one trying to take control over the others and possibly devastating the entire valley while they bickered and fought.
Hammond was remaining at the stronghold with half the guards. The freemen and peasants had been summoned inside the walls for their safety, and Alistair had stayed behind to guard Lady Rhyannon. Lord Rhys had planned for every danger they could anticipate. Now everything depended on what Lord Jeffrey decided.
As they rounded the bend in the path, Lord Jeffrey was seated on his horse in front of his men. Devon calculated quickly and decided every man with a horse was in the company, leaving barely a handful in the demesne. Lord Jeffrey had made no attempt to repair the palisade he’d burned down, or to dig a moat, or provide any protection for the property at all, which was far from wise. Lord Rhys may have no intention of attacking him, but there were many landless knights in the kingdom, and what one man had won, another could take from him just as easily.
“Where is my bride?” demanded Lord Jeffrey.
“I regret to inform you, Lord Jeffrey, that I accepted another offer for her hand in marriage, not yours.”
“You can’t do that. I want her.”
Rhys’s tone was firm and a fraction exasperated. “I’m sorry, Lord Jeffrey, but a guardian’s duty is to choose the man who offers the greatest benefit to the family and the stronghold.”
Devon nodded. Lord Rhys was saying words that everyone would agree with. But would Lord Jeffrey accept his statements?
“Who can offer more than me? Who is this man you’ve chosen for the Lady Rhyannon?”
“Lord Devon.”
“Devon? He has no land. I have land.”
That was a problem. Devon held his breath as Lord Rhys answered.
“Lady Rhyannon’s place is in my stronghold. A man with no land, but a strong fighting arm, is a better for choice for her right now.”
“My fighting arm is second to none. I challenge Lord Devon to personal combat.”
Devon rode forward out of the line of soldiers. “I accept.”
“Do you wish to fight on horse or on foot, Lord Jeffrey?” asked Rhys.
There was silence as Lord Jeffrey pondered the question. Devon was not worried. Either way, he believed he was a better fighter than Lord Jeffrey, but on foot would probably give him a slightly greater advantage because of his longer reach.
Finally, Jeffrey called out. “George, you are my second.” He turned to the man on his left. “Hold my horse. We’ll fight on foot.”
Devon dismounted, and two men moved beside him. One took his horse back to the line of men and animals. The other was Ebert.
Devon felt tension build in his chest. Lord Jeffrey was a trained fighter, a man of strength, cunning, and ability. He would need all his skills for this battle. He settled his helmet more firmly on his head and pulled his sword from its scabbard.
All the men made a large ring around Lord Jeffrey and Lord Devon. Lord Rhys held a length of fabric in the air, counted slowly backward from three, then dropped it.
Lord Jeffrey was either waiting for Devon to attack first or his reactions had slowed because Devon definitely moved faster. But his opponent returned his attack strongly and fast. Back and forth they moved across the dirt, first one having the advantage then the other, their swords smashing together with ringing force and power. Devon was highly alert, all his body attuned to every move Lord Jeffrey made, his gaze never leaving the other man’s face as movement was always signaled by the eyes.
Again and again, one of them would attack only to be beaten back, until the sweat was pouring from Devon, and his arm began to ache. Now was the time to disarm the other man. Honor had been satisfied by the length of the fight, and Lord Jeffrey would be tiring, too, making disarmament easier. Devon watched for his opportunity, continuing to attack, but more often waiting to defend.
Finally, Lord Jeffrey swung his arm up too high, and Devon smashed his sword into the other man’s weapon with all his strength. Lord Jeffrey’s sword flew out of his hand, landing more than a man’s body-length away on the dirt. Devon raised both arms in the air, to show he had no intention of delivering a killing blow.
Lord Jeffrey looked almost confused for several heartbeats, then left his sword lying on the ground, mounted hi
s horse, and rode back to his demesne. His men whirled to follow him.
Lord Rhys and Ebert both slapped Devon on the shoulder, one of the men picked up Lord Jeffrey’s sword and handed it to Devon, and Lord Rhys said, “Come, our dinner will be ready for us.”
Laughing, everyone turned their horse toward the stronghold.
Chapter Three
Life returned to normal at the stronghold. Winter was approaching, and more hunting parties were sent out, but the largest animals were getting harder to find. Most days, the men returned with half a dozen rabbits or a net full of birds, but there were no reports of deer or boar.
The women had finished sewing banners for the walls of the great hall, and people stood in front of them, admiring every aspect of the design and sewing, reciting the mottos on the crests, and discussing the heraldic animals.
Father Augustus often used the opportunity to test his three students on their reading and writing, asking them questions about the mottos and what other words had similar meanings, or opposite meanings, or the words for various animals.
Women had brought out winter clothing and were checking the heavy woolen fabrics for any holes that needed to be darned. Sturdy boots were lined with fleece or rags to protect feet from the deep cold of midwinter.
And night after night, in the room in the castle Rhyannon had been allocated, Alistair, Devon, and Rhyannon learned about each other’s thoughts, beliefs, wants, and needs, gradually bonding into a unit.
Devon had begun to enjoy kissing Rhyannon. Her soft mouth and sweet taste were totally different from a man, but it was a gentle, giving touch, demanding nothing from him, yet accepting whatever he was capable of offering, and it pleased him. At times, he even touched her breasts because he knew she liked that, but it didn’t sharpen his sword the way sinking into her hot ass did. Her ass was different from a man’s, the cheeks softer and rounded, but they made his cock rise in a way sliding into her cunt never did.
From time to time, he plowed her cunt, but he much preferred her ass. One night, after working hard to rouse his dick enough to release his seed, he decided that he really didn’t mind if all his children were fathered by Alistair. He respected the other member of their little family, both as a warrior and as a man, and felt sure any child of his would be worthy to inherit such lands as Devon would one day win. Besides, Alistair would be with him, fighting for the lands, and they would both train any son in manly pursuits, so whoever of them actually planted the seed in Rhyannon didn’t matter.
Having come to that decision freed and released him so much, he was able to swive her ass with greater vigor than ever before, bringing them both enormous pleasure.
He also enjoyed plowing Alistair’s ass while Alistair plowed Rhyannon. It was a strange feeling, the three of them moving together as one body, their skin stuck to each other with their sweat, their releases pouring out of them together.
But this night, he wanted her soft body on him, sucking his dick. He’d taught her a few tricks he’d learned from soldiering, and nothing roused him faster than when she swallowed his dick whole and hummed with it down her throat. The intense pleasure that gave him had his seed pouring from him like the rain during a summer thunderstorm.
Naked, he rested his head on a pillow and spread his legs wide. “Suck me, Rhyannon.”
She slid across the bed, her pale flesh a contrast to the darker color of his arms, which had been exposed to the heat all summer long. Then she twirled her long, brown hair over his sensitive inner thighs as she lowered her soft breasts and picked his aching dick up with one hand.
He liked the feel of her hair on him. It was soft, yet ticklish, arousing him especially when she dragged it over his tenderest skin, such as now. He also liked it when he could feel the points of her nipples digging into him. The knowledge that sucking his dick aroused her, too, gave him a feeling of male power.
Tonight, she licked along his shaft, pressing her tongue into the pounding pulse there. “Yeeees,” he encouraged her.
She lowered her head farther, teasing him again with her hair, and sucked first one ball, then the other into her mouth, before finally giving his cockhead its turn in her warm, wet cavern. “God’s truth, you do that well,” he swore.
Rhyannon giggled around his shaft and bent to her task, sliding her tongue under his foreskin, flicking the tip of it in the slit of his prick, which made his shaft harder than a sword, then sucking him deep into her mouth again.
Over and over, she played with his dick, licking, and sucking on it, until he was full to bursting. She seemed to sense his readiness because she sucked him down her throat as he’d taught her and swallowed his head whole. As soon as her throat muscles gripped his head, his seed burst from him. She let him out a little way to enable her to swallow his seed, but he pumped his hips hard into her mouth, again and again, as more jets released until he was limp once more.
“Thank you, my sweet,” he gasped.
“Do you want to ride me, or shall I suck you?” asked Alistair, his hands palming Rhyannon’s breasts.
Without answering, she climbed over Alistair’s hips, and Devon moved so he could view them from the rear. Breasts did not interest him, but he liked watching her ass rise up and down, although watching Alistair’s cock slide in and out of her might be good, too.
For a while, he sat and watched them from the rear then moved to the front. He lay on his side, his head on one hand, his eyes level with Alistair’s cock. It was a goodly weapon, long and thick, and Alistair used it to great effect, powering in and out of Rhyannon’s cunt. Devon licked his lips as he watched it slide in and out, its sides coated with cream, the head always remaining inside the woman, although the rest emerged and hid as they moved.
He watched Alistair touch her nubbin. It was like a tiny prick, its head emerging from its hood, like a cock from its foreskin, and he knew from touching Rhyannon it was as hot and hard and sensitive as any dick, although so very small.
Rhyannon was moving faster now, her breasts bouncing as she rode Alistair. Devon liked her nipples, especially when, as now, they were hard and pointed. The softness of her breasts didn’t make his weapon grow, although he knew Alistair loved to touch them, and she liked them being touched.
Devon began to tug on his cock again. Watching Alistair swive Rhyannon always aroused him, but seeing Alistair’s cock slide in and out off his lady like that was driving his own cock wild. Devon’s gaze was fixed on Alistair’s cock, his hand moving faster and faster on his own sword until Rhyannon started to groan and her body to shake. Alistair grabbed her hips, rising up into her very hard, and slamming her down onto him. Devon knew the way Rhyannon’s cunt was gripping Alistair’s cock would be bringing him to release. Just thinking about it as he tugged on his own shaft made his seed shoot over his hand and thighs.
The night was still young. After a rest, they’d all be able to fuck again, he was certain.
* * * *
“Four men on horseback approaching,” gasped a small boy to Elinor, Rhyannon, and Aunt Heloise, as they stood in the kitchen garden, checking that no plants remained to be harvested.
“Did Wade recognize their banner?” asked Elinor.
“It’s red and gold,” said the child with a huge grin.
“And half the kingdom have red and gold banners,” Rhyannon and Elinor chanted with him, laughing.
“Oh dear, we’d best go inside and tidy ourselves for the guests,” Aunt Heloise said.
Rhyannon cast a longing look at the garden. She’d really prefer to be on her hands and knees, lifting every leaf to check no vegetable remained that could be preserved or pickled for winter. More people lived in the stronghold now than ever before, and if the winter was long and severe, food supplies may run short. The lives of the people depended on everyone doing all they could to ensure enough food was stored for the cold months ahead, when hunting and fishing would be nigh impossible.
They had washed their hands and faces under the pump, and Elinor was
braiding her hair neatly as the small boy returned. “It’s Lady Rhyannon’s cousin, Lord Coll. Although he’s not Lord Rhys’s cousin. Why is that so?”
“Go and ask Father Augustus to explain genealogy to you. We must be ready to greet him,” said Lady Elinor, shooing the child away and racing for the stairs to the solar. “Come, Rhyannon, we must change our gowns.”
The three ladies, freshly gowned, were standing in front of the fire in the great hall, Byram at their side with a tray of goblets of the best mead, when Lord Coll entered. He was flanked by Lord Rhys and Hammond, with Wade, Albin, Alistair, Ebert, and Lord Devon close behind them. Following them were a dozen children, Father Augustus, and a handful of freemen who ought to have been busy about the courtyard.
“Ah, dear cousin, it’s good to see you,” said Coll, striding across the room and kissing Rhyannon on the mouth. She had to force herself not to wipe her sleeve across her lips afterward but managed to smile and say, “Welcome, Cousin Coll. I trust you had a good journey.”
“Not too bad, not too bad. The weather is not yet too cold to travel, and the rivers are still easily fordable, although some of the tracks are becoming muddy.”
Coll kept talking, but Rhyannon was no longer listening. Why was he here? What had made him undertake a week-long journey? She was sure it was not just to see how she liked her new home. He’d ignored her until he inherited her father’s lands and possessions, so it was unlikely he’d suddenly developed an interest in her life.
She didn’t like her Cousin Coll. He showed too many of the characteristics her father had developed when wife after wife failed to give him a child. Little adversities made him screaming mad, and he hit the servants if they arrived too slowly or performed tasks not exactly as he wished them to be.
Rhyannon remembered her father with his last wife. One day, he’d slapped her face because she came to dinner with no ribbon in her hair. After she returned to her solar to braid her hair with a ribbon, he’d slapped her again for being too slow to return to the high table. Her stepmother had sat silently during the meal, eating nothing, her face red from the slaps, and her eyes filled with tears. Rhyannon had seen the pattern too clearly to wish to be involved in it herself.
Defending Rhyannon's Inheritance [Elinor's Stronghold 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 3
