Arto's Enchantress

by Morgan Henry

  “Arto.” The King stopped him.

  “I’m sorry to see you go,” Graydon said with genuine regret in his voice. “I’ve been glad to have you here over the past month, for your company as well as your contributions to the council and lightening my own personal load of duties. I will take you up on your offer of a visit when this mess is settled. Thank you.”

  Arto felt his chest tighten a little. He would miss his King, his friend. But he couldn’t risk Cella.

  “Find the traitor. Please.”

  * * * *

  Cella wrote several notes as Kyna and Nia packed her belongings for the journey. They put what she would need while riding in one set of bags, while packing the rest to follow them in a trunk. The trunk would lag behind them by several days, but it would hold much more.

  She was still somewhat irked.

  And bruised.

  She was not happy to be leaving so precipitously, yet she did understand Graydon’s point of view. Arto seemed to have gone a little over the top. She was, after all, only a casual lover for him. But then, he did take his responsibilities very seriously.

  His honour was at stake. If she were harmed, he would not have done his duty by his king or her. That must be why his corset was in such a knot.

  “My Lady, the Healer is here.” Kyna interrupted her thoughts.

  “What? I didn’t call for a Healer.”

  “She had a note signed by both His Grace and the King. Otherwise the guards would not have admitted her.” Kyna’s bit her lip, unsure of what to do next.

  Cella wanted to smack her head against the desk. Trust those two men to continue to overreact. “Send her in, Kyna,” she instructed.

  Usomia entered.

  Cella smiled at her. “I can’t seem to keep away from you. In all seriousness, I’m not really harmed.”

  “That may be true, my Lady, but I have instructions to see to whatever injuries you have, and to keep it all to myself.” She shrugged. “Healers always keep things to themselves, it’s part of our oaths.”

  “Well, we’d better satisfy the worrywarts.”

  Usomia examined Cella and healed the few bruises and scrapes she had acquired on her fall. Her ragged nails couldn’t be completely healed, but Kyna neatened them.

  “You did have several deep bruises on your ribs, though none were broken, my Lady. I would love to know what happened, but I’m not supposed to ask,” Usomia noted wryly.

  Cella couldn’t catch herself before she rolled her eyes. “Well, regardless, thank you once again. I feel much better and the journey tomorrow will be easier for it.”

  “You’re leaving?” Usomia seemed taken aback.

  Cella winced. “Yes, but apparently you’re not to know of that.”

  “Ah, of course, Lady Cella. Well, anyway, I haven’t even been in this wing tonight, so what would I know?” Usomia sashayed out the door, all innocence.

  Dinner was delivered shortly thereafter, with a note from Arto saying to eat without him. He would join her in his bed later.

  Cella’s body needed replenishment after healing and she ate more than she normally would have. It felt lonely, eating in the suite without Arto or any other guest.

  She went back to her letters and was just finishing when Kyna came in to announce another visitor.

  Cella was starting to think her leaving was one of the worst kept secrets in the entire Keep, when Kyna told her it was Valina.

  Cella hurried into the sitting room.

  “Please tell me you’re coming with us tomorrow,” she begged her friend. Cella had become close to Valina over the weeks and selfishly hoped she would come.

  “Of course! I’m so excited!” Valina was practically dancing with enthusiasm. “I’m getting bored here. Those gossips in the commons are no fun to be with and you’re working most days. A journey will be wonderful!”

  “Well, in reality it will likely be cold, tiring, and cause our bums to not forgive us for a while.” But Cella couldn’t help but feel some of her friend’s delight.

  “Oh, I almost forgot!” Valina dug in her pocket and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in white cotton.

  Cella opened it to find the last two brooches that Dochir had made for her.

  “He wasn’t allowed to come in this wing, so he asked me to make sure you got them. Why wouldn’t he be allowed to come here?” Valina frowned at Cella.

  “It’s not my doing. Arto seems to think Dochir is up to no good. I don’t agree, but my opinion apparently doesn’t count.”

  “How could anyone think that? He’s so polite, and attentive, and sweet and handsome…” She trailed off, her eyes glazing.

  “Is there something I should know about you two?” asked Cella, suddenly recalling how attentive Dochir had been to Valina in the evenings when he dined at their table.

  “No, nothing, I swear.” Valina spoke quickly and she blushed. “I can’t help it that I find him handsome, though.”

  She sighed and looked a little sad. “Nothing will ever come out of it.”

  There was a little silence as Cella thought about this. Why wouldn’t anything come out of her attraction to the Emissary? Valina was free to take whom she wished as a lover. Perhaps Dochir was not.

  “Anyway, Duke Arto insisted I have a maid for the journey. He said he wasn’t going repeat the mistakes of the last trip, so Ebir is coming with us.” Ebir had been assigned as Lady’s maid to Valina when she arrived at the Keep.

  “At least it’s someone you know, and who knows you,” Cella pointed out.

  Valina wasn’t terribly fond of the woman. Ebir was cold and forever disapproving. She gave the impression that looking after Valina was beneath her worth and abilities.

  “That’s true, but I was hoping to be rid of her. I can look after myself, you know. Mother insisted I not be completely dependent on a maid.”

  “I tried that same line on the way here. It didn’t work then, either.”

  The two women exchanged a knowing look. One that said men were forever underestimating the capabilities of women.

  “I think it must make men feel more manly to assume we are delicate creatures who are unable to find the leg holes in our riding skirts,” Cella observed.

  Valina snorted in a very unladylike fashion. “As if men are so tough. They might be able to put their own pants on, but ask them to change a baby’s diaper and they just about faint.”

  Both women laughed heartily. Valina left shortly after to finalize her own packing.

  It was late when Arto finally returned. Cella was in bed, his bed, reading. She was wearing her pale blue silk and lace nightgown, and her hair was braided for sleep. She was sitting, resting against the headboard, pillows making her more comfortable. The covers were up to her waist and her knees were bent, the book resting on them.

  Arto strode into the room, looking every inch the Duke he was. He paused when he entered and his gaze ate her up as it heated her up.

  He didn’t speak, but went directly to the bath chamber. She could hear splashing and though she couldn’t make out what they said, she could hear voices as he spoke to Tors.

  Arto reentered the room, wearing a robe and nothing else.

  He stalked toward the bed and Cella could see his erection. The large head of his penis was already weeping with anticipation. Her fingers clutched the book a little harder.

  She was suddenly anticipating as well.

  Arto walked up to her and took the book from her hands. He snapped it shut and placed it on the night table.

  The look in his eyes made her shiver.

  He was wound tightly tonight, the muscles that she could see in his neck and chest taut. He looked at her with dilated pupils.

  He pulled the covers down and grabbed her ankles, yanking her body down the bed. “Lift up,” he commanded, and she raised her bottom off the bed so he could remove her nightgown.

  She wore nothing underneath. He had forbidden it for as long as she was his lover.

  The air over
her breasts caused her nipples to harden. That and Arto’s hungry gaze. Her pussy lips were already slick.

  He looked to be in fine, commanding form tonight.

  Arto leaned over her and grabbed her wrists. He pulled her arms up, stretching them above her head. He guided her fingers to the spokes of the headboard. “Hang on to these and do not let go. Do you understand me, sola?” His voice was extra-deep tonight.

  “Yes, Arto.” Cella could hear the breathy quality in her own voice. She knew it would please him.

  She couldn’t wait to have his hands on her body, to have him torture her with pleasure.

  Every time she thought about the fact that she was his responsibility, that he would tire of her, another piece of her heart broke.

  When she reminded herself he was enjoying her while she was his duty, she wanted to cry.

  So many reasons not to let her heart fall in love with him and yet, she couldn’t help it.

  “What’s your word, Cella?” The commanding tone in his voice made her body puddle with desire.

  “Marta.”

  “Very good. Do not move your hands.”

  “But I want to touch you,” Cella protested.

  “Not tonight. The only sounds I want to hear from you are cries of pleasure or begging me to let you come. Do you understand?” His eyes bored into her.

  Cella nodded vigorously.

  “Do you want to use your word?”

  Cella shook her head just as vigorously.

  Arto kissed her hard, his tongue invading. He controlled the kiss, exploring the depths of her mouth until he was done. Leaving her gasping for breath, he trailed his tongue down. He bit her firmly where her shoulder met her neck.

  That made her cry out and she felt him smile against her skin.

  He then began his carnal assault on her. He toyed with her breasts for ages, sucking and nipping her nipples until Cella thought she might come from that attention alone.

  He kissed, licked, and sucked all her hidden hot spots. From the one just inside her elbow, to the inside of her ankles, he didn’t leave any area that roused her untouched.

  When he finally spread her legs, she was sure there was a moist area on the sheets.

  “If you let go of the headboard, I will stop and not touch you again for the rest of the night,” he warned.

  Cella moaned. She knew he would do it. He was stronger than her in this. If she disobeyed him now, he would let her go, walk into the bathing chamber, and masturbate.

  But before he left, he would tie her hands so she wouldn’t be able to relieve herself.

  She tightened her grip on the wood.

  Arto gave a long, slow lick from her anus to the top of her slit. He didn’t touch her clit.

  Cella moaned and commenced begging.

  “Please, Arto. Please. I need you.”

  He slid a finger slowly inside her. He curled it slightly and moved until he found the spot inside that made her writhe.

  “Oh, God and Goddess! Arto, please!”

  He didn’t answer her. Neither did he give her enough stimulation to make her come.

  He would use his finger and his tongue to bring her to the brink of climax, only to withdraw until the feeling ebbed. He never touched her clit. He did this no less than five times.

  Cella was covered in sweat and so keyed up she thought she would go mad.

  “I can’t take anymore, please, please let me come.” She moaned.

  In response, Arto leaned down and as he inserted two fingers into her needy cunt, he sucked hard on her clit.

  Cella screamed and the light faded from the room. She saw sparks in the blackness that surrounded her as she rode the wave of pleasure that demanded her complete surrender to it.

  Sight finally returned and she saw Arto looming above her.

  “My turn,” he said. “Don’t move those hands.”

  The barest amount of tension had left his body. She had noticed that sensually torturing her seemed to ease him.

  He hooked his arm under her right leg and pulled it up and open, exposing her slit. His hips descended on hers and she felt the head of his cock nudge her opening.

  He pushed in slowly. He was so big, it was always like he was entering her for the first time. The head popped through the first ring of muscle in her pussy and she moaned.

  It always felt so good.

  He slid forward slowly, opening her slick passage a little at a time, never pausing or retreating until he bottomed out inside her. When he finally reached the end of her channel, he stilled.

  Panting lightly, he looked into her eyes.

  She couldn’t quite read what was in them. Desire, yes. Lust, yes. But there was more. Possession, perhaps? A need for something more than her body?

  She couldn’t hope for that.

  Duty.

  Responsibility.

  She had to keep reminding herself that was his primary motivation.

  He ground his pelvis against hers, putting pressure on her clit and robbing her of thought.

  She cried out as the need began to build in her again.

  Arto set up an easy pace. It wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t a hard, fast pounding designed to give bring them both to orgasm quickly.

  “Promise me you will not put yourself in danger on this journey,” he suddenly demanded.

  “What?” Cella was caught off guard at the question and her hands loosened from the headboard.

  “Don’t let go!” he barked. “You heard me. Answer.”

  Cella had to recall the question. “No, no, I won’t put myself in danger.”

  “You will let me care for you, protect you in every way?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  Cella was now on the brink of orgasm again. She tried to move, to crest the wave of pleasure she knew was coming.

  Arto pinned her to the bed with his pelvis and cock, suddenly still. His eyes bored into her, demanding her submission to his command.

  With that look, she went limp.

  It seemed to satisfy him.

  He drew out, then thrust hard back into her and fucked her mercilessly, filling her channel again and again, pummelling her clit. She loved being taken like this, and he knew it.

  In seconds she crested her second, hard orgasm. The pleasure flashed through her again and again as Arto continue to thrust his cock into her and pound her swollen pearl.

  She was almost sobbing from the pleasure when Arto roared his own release.

  Hot pulses of his seed shot into her belly as his hips twitched. She welcomed each drop of him, clenching her vaginal muscles on his cock. She was rewarded with his groans.

  He slid out of her slowly and pulled her arms down so he could envelop her body.

  “You’re mine, Cella,” he whispered.

  Chapter 19

  Arto looked back over the travelling party. Cella and Valina were in the middle where they should be. Guards surrounded them and three Knights each rode in the vanguard and rear.

  Tors, Kyna, Ebir, and the rest of the servants were loosely grouped in front of the rear guard.

  They had ridden hard for the last five days and were approaching Duth Bridgend. Part manor house but mostly fortress, it was the centre of protection for the border between Bridgend and Torquin.

  Arto could see his home from quite a distance. It was high on one of the foothills of the east mountain range. The town was spread below, modest in size but prosperous. There was a much larger town on the shores of Easting Lake, but Arto’s family had felt that manor seat needed to be nearer the border, and refused to move.

  His home was stone on the exterior, as most fortresses were. Several of the nearby hills had been quarried out to build the structure long ago. It was a giant triangle surrounding a massive courtyard. One side was for the Bridgend family and their servants.

  Another was for the military force that patrolled the border. It housed the single men and their officers, armorers, and the like. The married officers and Mastercraftsmen
and women were often allowed to have their spouses live with them.

  The final side was unoccupied but kept in repair. It was for the townsfolk to take refuge in should Torquin ever attack the Keep. They would be cramped quarters, but safe.

  After the original structure was built, stables were added on, off of the northwest side. They appeared small in height compared to the Keep, but they were large enough to house many mounts.

  They had to be. Mounts for the border guard were stabled there, as well as Arto’s breeding stock and the personal mounts of the household and visitors. There was plenty of pasture on both sides of the Keep for the animals.

  The family wing was fit for a Duke, without being too ostentatious. The interior walls were stone or had wood overlay. Hangings softened the walls and carpets made the main rooms more comfortable. The house colours of dark green, white, and gold predominated, but some of the rooms showcased different colours chosen by their occupants, current or ancestral.

  Arto couldn’t deny he was happy to be home.

  Seeing Duth Bridgend in the distance made him feel a relief that flowed through his muscles, releasing the tension of days.

  He enjoyed Kerfaen and the time he spent with the King, but he had deep ties to Duth Bridgend. He grew up here, his extended family were here, and he had friends here and in the town. It was his home as well as his duty and his pleasure to look after Bridgend.

  Cella, Valina, and their maids were in good shape, despite the arduous ride.

  Arto was pleased that Cella hadn’t lost her hard-won skill in the saddle nor her ability to sit on the horse day after day. It helped that they were able to sleep in inns along the way instead of the ground.

  She seemed to have forgiven him for hustling her out of Kerfaen Keep. She had acknowledged that it seemed likely she was an actual target. Of whom, they couldn’t say, but it seemed prudent to take her somewhere less busy than Kerfaen Keep.

  Thank the God that she had complementary sexual appetites. Arto had been so wild with the need to be with her, to make sure she knew she was his that last night in Kerfaen Keep. He knew, though, that she had enjoyed every second of it.