Authors: Dee Brice
“Highness.”
“Gerard. For tonight, just Gerard.”
“Gerard,” she repeated, gazing up at him.
The look in her eyes—the longing in them—almost made him
forget that the twins were consummate actresses. He bit back the name on his
lips, saying instead, “Your name, m’lady?”
“For now, you may call me
Eleanor
.”
Edgar’s twin giggled. “And you, Edgar, may call me
Elizabeth
.”
Edgar shifted as his cock responded to the desire in her
eyes. “You’ll not blame me,
Elizabeth
, if in the throes of passion, I
call you
El
? And in a similar condition, Gerard calls your sister
El
also?”
“In the throes of passion, m’lord, will it matter?”
She sounded flippant but her eyes told a different story. “I
think it would matter very much,” Edgar muttered.
“To all of us,” Gerard added, his voice soft, his gaze
fastened on
Eleanor
’s blue, blue eyes.
“For now,” she said.
“’Twill have to do,” her twin finished. “Shall we begin?”
Gerard sat then positioned Ariel to play. “Lively or sad,
ladies?”
The twins glanced at each other. “Both,” they said together.
“The song you wrote,”
Elizabeth
clarified for Gerard.
“Then sang,”
Eleanor
added to Edgar.
“To me.” Again they finished together.
“Edgar may sing as he did before.”
“When he taught me to play the tune.”
Edgar surged to his feet. Scowling fiercely, he said, “This
has gone on long enough! Haven’t you—
we all
—evened the score? Will you
continue this nonsense even after we marry?”
The women stood as one.
“If—”
“When this night is done—”
“You still cannot tell us apart—”
“There will be no marriages.”
Gerard rose. “Even if you—either or both—are carrying our
babes?”
They nodded.
“Your parents may have something to say about that,” Edgar
said sternly. “Or Yvonne. So long as you remain at Marchonland.”
“Neither our parents—”
“Nor Yvonne will have a say—”
“If we are no longer on their lands.”
Together, obviously shocked, the men sat. All fell silent.
Gerard spoke first. “We know how important it is to you both
that we recognize you for yourselves. Believe me, we want the same thing.”
“Aye,” Edgar agreed. “What we did to you the other day—”
“Was cruel,” said
Elizabeth
.
“But,”
Eleanor
sighed, “we may have carried the ruse
too far.”
“Aye,” the men said together.
“Among us we should be able to come up with a solution,”
Gerard mused aloud.
“One that is fair to us all,” Edgar said.
Again all four lapsed into silence.
“Hoodman blind,” the women said as one.
“Only with all of us blindfolded,”
Eleanor
clarified.
“And in fairness to Edgar—”
Elizabeth
began.
“Both you men should retain your shirts.”
The men grinned but Edgar said, “Since Gerard’s and my
bodies differ in other ways, wearing our shirts would help little if at all.”
“Then we’re back where we began,” Gerard muttered.
Edgar merely nodded. The twins sighed.
“We could talk,”
Elizabeth
suggested in a small
voice, as if she expected everyone to disagree.
“Oh!”
Eleanor
sounded delighted.
“What shall we talk about?” Gerard groused as Edgar nodded.
“Art?”
“Music?”
“Queen Kerrie and her husbands?”
“Sex while clothed?”
They all laughed, but their laughter sounded nervous and
embarrassed.
Gerard strummed Ariel. The woman at his side closed her
eyes, her head cocked to one side, a soft smile on her lips.
The twin at Edgar’s side watched Gerard’s fingers as they
moved up and down Ariel’s neck, over her belly. Edgar nodded as if to say
we
each have the right woman
.
“Sing for us, Rowena,” Edgar said, taking her right hand in
his. Her fingers stroked the back of his hand as if she played Ariel.
“Aye, Edina,” Gerard prompted softly, “join your voice with
Rowena’s. Gareth told us you both sing like angels. We would hear for
ourselves.”
“Only if Edgar sings with us,” Edina said, her gaze now
fastened on Gerard’s face.
“Sing the tavern song,” Edgar suggested, and watched
Rowena’s face turn bright pink.
“Oh Row, you didn’t,” Edina protested through a giggle.
“I did.”
“She did,” Edgar said, “but I believe she left out the
bawdiest verses in deference to my modesty.” He grinned.
“There are bawdier verses?” the twins said together.
Grinning, Gerard began the lively tune. The other three sang
the verses they knew. Edgar sang those Rowena had not known. He sang in a very
high voice, making the women laugh. Gerard joined in—his deep tones slightly
off-key.
The twins hid huge smiles behind their hands. Edgar laughed
aloud, as did Gerard. The women joined in until all four guffawed
uncontrollably. Rowena, arms crossed over her stomach, leaned against Edgar. Tipping
her chin, he kissed her.
Edina pecked Gerard’s cheek. When she found herself enfolded
in his arms, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for her to take
Ariel from his hands, set the lute aside and press herself against his chest.
It felt entirely proper for her to unfasten his doublet and run her hands over
the hard muscles and silky hair she found beneath the cloth. To take his soft
groans and his tentative tongue into her mouth and meet them with her own
sighs. With her own tongue.
“I could kiss you for the rest of my life,” he muttered
against her ear, “and never grow tired of the act.”
“Would you want more than kisses, Gerard?”
“Much more—so long as you are willing, Edina.”
She took his hand and placed it over her breast. Her nipple
rose, eager to feel his flesh against it. “I think you can tell how willing I
am.”
“I would know better if you would let me undress you.”
“Not yet,” she murmured as she slid down his body. On her
knees, she tugged off his boots and hose. Slanting him a wry smile, she held up
a pair of embroidered garters and noted his blush.
“You left them under the willow. I feared they might be all
I would ever have of you. Do…do you want them back?”
“Do you want to keep them?”
Her voice teased, but her eyes were solemn. His answer, he
knew, could cost him her presence in his life. In his arms. In his bed. He
licked his suddenly dry lips then muttered, “Aye, I’d like to keep them. But
only if you come with them.”
Her soft smile blessed him. He swallowed the lump in his
throat and felt his heart begin to beat once more. He slid his hands under her
elbows and tried to gather her to him.
Shaking her head, she eased away. “There is a pillow
directly behind you. Pass it to me.”
“Wh-What? Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Caught somewhere between trepidation and anticipation, he
obeyed. When she’d settled on the pillow, she reached for the laces that held
his rigid shaft within his breeches. He gripped her hands. “Edina,” he warned,
“we are not alone.”
A saucy smile greeted this admonition. He felt his shaft wither.
“I know,” she answered as she swept his doublet aside then
resettled on her heels. “I have long admired your chest, Gerard.” She traced
his pectorals, letting her fingers glide over his nipples. A soft giggle
escaped her parted lips. “Your nipples harden just as mine do when you touch
them. Will they harden even more if I suckle them?”
Had a woman ever suckled his nipples? he wondered a second
before her tongue lapped him gently. He couldn’t remember. If another woman had
touched him like this, she had never brought him such exquisite pleasure. He
felt as if Edina’s tongue ran straight from his nipple to his shaft and each
grew longer, harder. Wanting more. Needing more of her tender ministrations. He
groaned and leaned back against the bed.
As if obeying a silent command, Edina kissed and laved her
way down his belly. And stopped to explore his bellybutton as if it were the
most wondrous thing she had ever seen. His shaft seemed to cry out,
Lower!
Touch me now!
But she paid no attention, only lingered at his bellybutton.
Her tongue swirled along its rim while her fingers plucked his nipples until he
feared he’d explode before she went any farther.
Every nerve seemed to lie between his navel and his balls.
All feeling—all desire—gathered there. His hips surged upward as if urging her downward.
His breath hissed from between his clenched teeth. More than he needed his next
breath, he needed her tongue, her lips, her mouth on his shaft.
Just when he thought he would die—murdered by lust—he felt her
soft cheek against his freed shaft. Felt her head turn. Her tongue glided from
his balls to his swollen tip, rimmed its head, lapped it like a cat might
delicately lap at a bowl of cream. He groaned, fisted his hands in her hair.
Willed himself not to force his shaft deep within her mouth. That deliciously
wicked mouth that sucked gently then harder and harder still. Her tongue—that
clever tongue—swept over and around him. He thrust upward. His head thrashed
wildly against the fur beneath him. He erupted, moaning loudly and muttering
over and over, “St. Christopher on a crutch!”
Reminding him they were not alone, he heard Edgar’s voice—replete
with satisfaction—groan, “Bartholomew’s balls.”
“I think they liked that,” the twins said together. Each a
mirror image of the other, they ran their tongues over their lips.
“Salty,” Rowena observed while she tugged Edgar’s breeches
down his splayed legs.
“Thick like cream,” Edina added. “A little sour, but
pleasant nonetheless.”
Each touched her lover’s now-limp cock.
“These won’t be of much use to us.” Rowena pouted then
grinned.
“Not for a long while,” Edina agreed, her eyes echoing the
disappointment in her voice.
“There are ways—” Edgar began.
“Other than swiving,” Gerard clarified, “that can bring you
pleasure.”
“Ways you know, Rowena.”
“As do you, Edina.”
The men watched blushes flood the twins’ cheeks.
“Aye,” they admitted.
Rowena laughed. “We wish to save those other ways for
later.”
Giggling, Edina said, “When your time to recover lengthens
even more.” She stood, tugging Gerard to his feet. “For now, let us eat and
drink.”
“Let us feast our fill on the sight of you.” Rowena ran her
hands over Edgar’s hairless chest and tweaked his nipples.
“Keep doing that and you’ll not wait long,” he warned.
“And what of us? Will you deprive us of the visual feast of
your naked bodies?” Edgar asked.
“For now,” Rowena said, her gaze shifting to Edina.
Edina nodded. “Aye, for now.” She led Gerard to the bed,
pressing him down upon it.
Rowena retrieved Ariel and placed the lute in Gerard’s lap.
Nonplused, Gerard could only stare at her. Mouth gone dry,
he finally managed to say, “You want me to play—?”
“And Edgar to sing,” Edina interjected as she poured
tankards of ale for them all.
“Naked, aye.” Rowena nodded firmly as if to a child.
“Perhaps the bed is too hard.” Edina offered Gerard a pillow
from the mass just beyond his reach.
Edgar snatched another pillow, covering his groin with it.
Standing side by side, the twins frowned at them.
Rowena said, “Don’t even attempt to make us believe you have
never seen each other naked.”
“Or pretend your cocks have not been ready at the same
time.” Arms akimbo, Edina glared at each man in turn.
“Yvonne—”
“Wretched woman,” the men said.
“Told us everything—” Rowena said.
“
Much
about her time with you,” Edina corrected.
“All three of you!”
“So we know—”
“You aren’t shy about—” Rowena’s glare warned the men to
remain silent.
“Being naked—”
“And aroused—”
“Together,” the women finished in one voice.
“We must decide how to proceed,” Rowena said.
Nodding, Edina added, “Excuse us for a moment.” Together
they retreated to the table and turned their backs.
Tossing his pillow aside, Edgar looked down at his flaccid
cock. “Well, hell,” he said as if his appendage might never rise again.
Staring at his own limp shaft, Gerard swore. “Damn!”
Apparently reaching an agreement of some kind, the twins
turned. Edgar, suddenly feeling shy, again plopped a pillow over his genitals.
Gerard used Ariel to cover his. The twins wore identical speculative
expressions as they glanced at each man in turn.
“Well?” Gerard finally asked when the silence threatened to
last until daybreak. “What do you intend to do?”
The women slanted the men identical smiles. “You’ll see,”
they chorused.
“Yet another test,” Edgar hazarded.
Gerard nodded, quirking a brow at the twin advancing toward
him. She moved with all the stealthy grace of a cat stalking an unsuspecting
mouse. “What now, Rowena?”
A momentary hesitation was the only clue he’d used the
correct name. She took Ariel from him then plopped down on his naked lap.
“Edina?” Edgar growled. “Will you allow Rowena to seduce my
brother?”
Edina shrugged. “If he can make her want him as I want him,
where’s the harm?”
She strode to the other side of the bed. A small contest for
possession of Edgar’s pillow ensued. Edina gritted her teeth but soon released
her hold. Edgar fell backward and the fought-over object sailed over his head.
Laughing, Edina crawled up until she lay against him. She stroked his chest,
kissed his neck, blew in his ear.
“And if you can make me want you as Rowena wants you…” The
suggestion hung between them, a bloated body swaying in the wind.