Warprize (Seven Brides for Seven Bastards, 5)(MFMMMMMM) (6 page)

Dom didn't know how he felt about this
development. Was he relieved? Amused? Angry that she thought to
fool him? Or simply intrigued?

One thing was certain —he was further
aroused.

After emptying himself so lavishly
into her mouth only moments before, he should be limp now, but his
cock was not acting as if it had spent at all. The needy ache
remained, a low steady throbbing continued, deep in his
loins.

He looked at Cedney Bloodwynne's lips
and wanted to kiss them. Would she try to fight him off? His gaze
moved down over the front of her tunic and he thought he
ascertained a slight swell where her breasts should be, but clearly
she covered them well, got them bound perhaps. There was something
down the front of her breeches. As Dom stared at it, she covered
the bulge with her hand and adjusted it, just as if it was indeed a
cock. He suspected it was a piece of wood or a turnip perhaps.
Certainly if he got his hands on it he'd know.

This might be even more entertaining
than he'd previously thought. How much longer did she think to get
away with her ruse in front of him?

"Go on, my lord," he said carefully.
"Get your prick out and give the wench a sound rutting. I'm sure
you want to."

Cedney had eased back on her parted
knees and was wiping her mouth on her sleeve. "No. I don't think I
should tonight."

"You don't think
you
should
?" Dom
struggled to restrain a chuckle.

"I need my rest. For the hunt
tomorrow. And the wedding night."

"Sometimes a good, hard fucking helps
a man clear his head. Exercises his muscles too and keeps them in
condition."

"Is that so?" she muttered.

"It works for me." He grinned. "See?"
Dom held his cock and then ran his fingers languidly over the
growing length. Her cornflower eyes followed the motion hungrily.
"I'm already getting hard again as I think about the two of us
doing it together." He was too, it was quite true, and the plump,
willing wench with her gown tossed over her back was not even part
of the image racing through his mind. It was only him and this
young woman who thought to make a fool of a d'Anzeray. Naughty,
cunning wench.

Leaning forward, he reached out with
his other hand and grabbed Cedney's "bulge". "You're hard too, my
lord. Hard as a rock." The thing did not move at all, but sat
heavily in his hand. It might have fooled some, but not him. He
knew a dead thing from a living one.

He rubbed it with his palm and the
lying young woman stared at him. "How dare you touch me this way?"
she whispered harshly.

He laughed at her pretend outrage.
"You just sucked the froth off my full tankard, Bloodwynne. Do I
not get to return the favor?"

"No." She pushed his hand away.
"I...think I'll retire." She stood, brushed down her knees and then
said gruffly, "Good eve to you, Redbeard."

He watched her hurry off, arms at her
sides, the stride impatient and forceful. Manly. Beside him on the
ground, the other wench finally sat up, pulling her gown over her
legs.

"Your ealdorman is a strange
character, is he not?" Dom asked.

"Lord Cedney is a fine man,
hardworking, just and fair. But he never wants the company of
women. Believe me," she sighed, "we've all tried."

Dom rubbed a finger over his lower
lip. "Now he is to be married though."

"Aye and he will treat your niece
well, sir, if that's what worries you. She'll want for
nothing."

Except a cock, he mused to
himself.

* * * *

She went directly to her
bedchamber—the only private place on the entire manor. It had once
belonged to her father, of course, and Hereward was a great
believer in having time to himself. Cedney could remember seeing
her father's counselors gathered impatiently outside his door in
the morning, waiting to confer with him on matters of the estate,
while he sat within silently pondering his own thoughts.

In times of personal
crisis
, he used to say to her,
a man is his own best counsel.

So she lay on her bed and thought
deeply about this Rufus Redbeard who had made her act like a
wanton. He was not her first personal crisis, but he was possibly
the worst and certainly this had gone further than her attractions
had ever drawn her before. The taste of his essence remained on her
tongue. Oh, why could she not have resisted? She should never have
followed him outside the hall, for once she saw him fucking the
other woman all was lost.

Envy was her undoing. Envy, jealousy
and lust.

Her father used to say there was no
creature more jealous than a woman.

A woman. For the first time in her one
and twenty years, Cedney had felt like a woman that evening. Not
just for a few fleeting moments of shame, but with every part of
herself— inside and out. And she had not felt ashamed while it was
happening.

Even now she was hot inside, a
heaviness in her loins promising to give her a restless night. Her
nipples ached and stood to alert. She thought of Alaya's pussy and
how wet it had been. Eager to prove herself a man, she'd licked and
tickled that woman to orgasm and it was not unpleasant, but most of
her delight in the act had come from knowing Rufus watched and that
he was clearly sexually aroused by it. She'd very much enjoyed
making him that excited and when he spent in her mouth it was most
satisfying to know she'd caused that to happen.

His was the first cock she'd sucked.
Soldiers were a lusty lot and when there were no women around, they
took what they could get, but Cedney, as lord of the manor, held
"himself" above all that. He did not ban it from happening, or even
raise an eyebrow when he saw it. But he did not join in—not
physically. Amongst her fyrdsmen she'd always bluffed her way
through rowdy jokes and chatter about sex, laughing as loud as any,
making up tales and boasting of her own exploits.

In her time she'd seen plenty and
heard even more, but Rufus, no doubt, had new stories to tell.
Outrageous stories.

She slid a hand between her legs and
under her nightshift. Dear lord she was sticky, her pussy yearning
for what it couldn't have. Groaning softly she rubbed two fingers
over her labia, lifting her bottom a few inches off the bed as she
did so, and closing her eyes to picture Rufus Redbeard, pounding
roughly, desperately into her cunny. It didn't take long at all for
the fluttering to reach a maddened blur that made her sex tighten
and her bottom tremble, but when she sank back to the bed and wiped
herself on her shift, she knew it was not as good as it would have
been with Rufus buried balls deep inside her.

Alas, it simply couldn't happen. She
had promised her father to keep the manor in the Bloodwynne name,
therefore Rufus could never know the truth. He might think he knew
now, but she would assure him he was mistaken, that was all.
Tomorrow she would amend the mistake and leave him in no
doubt.

In two days she was to marry Lady
Rosamund and somehow, soon, she would find a way to get her wife
impregnated. Hopefully with a male child to continue the Bloodwynne
name.

A convent raised, very proper, noble
young lady like Rosamund ought to know nothing about fornication,
and Cedney should be able to get by with a little subterfuge in
bed. She could give her wife pleasure without penetration. Then she
would find a man willing to hire out his cock for an evening. Men
were lusty beasts, so how hard could it be to find one willing to
fuck for a few favors in return— something from the Bloodwynne
coffers? She had considerable wealth that the king did not know
about, for her father had kept it well hidden. A little of it may
as well be used to help continue her charade.

But now she had another large problem,
in the shape of suspicious, arousing, difficult Rufus Redbeard.
Tomorrow she must act as if nothing had occurred between them.
She'd seen that questioning look in men's eyes before and quickly
learned how to remove it. For some reason, with this stranger, she
had felt powerless, unable to keep up the pretense. But tomorrow
that would change. For the sake of her marriage and the future of
the manor, she must put all questions out of Rufus Redbeard's mind.
She didn't want him taking his rich niece and her dowry away again,
then taking his dangerous suspicions to the king.

Furious with herself, she flipped over
violently, planting her face into the straw-stuffed bed. It wasn't
as if she wanted a damned wife, but she had to have one. The king
had decreed it and sent this ill-mannered, chatty Norman pigeon to
fulfill the role. There was no way out. It was clear to see why no
one else wanted Rosamund and she'd been handed off to a
Saxon.

But Cedney refused to be vanquished.
She had fooled a king, a court, and half a dozen Norman soldiers
she'd once joined in a drunken orgy. Neither Rosamund nor her uncle
Rufus would bring it all tumbling down.

She sat up on her knees and stared at
the fluttering candles beside her bed. It was no good; she could
not sleep. Her mind was restless, as was her body.

Why wait until morning to settle his
suspicions? Better it be done now.

Leaping off her bed, she quickly
pulled on her long robe, fastened it with a belt and went to her
door. As always, a guard stood in the passage.

"Where is Rufus Barberousse?" Cedney
demanded.

"He sleeps on a pallet in the great
hall, my lord."

"I see." She half turned away, losing
some of her resolve at the thought of him laid down. But then she
turned back to the guard. "Send for him. I wish to discuss the
matter of his niece's dowry."

It might seem odd to have such a
conversation in the middle of the night, she mused, but she was the
lord of the manor and could do as she pleased. In any case, it
would be wise to keep an eye on that man. She didn't want him
wandering around the place, prying. Or finding any other women to
fuck.

As for her other reasons in calling
him to her chamber, she was quite sure there were none.

Chapter Six

He was startled when the guard told
him he was required in the young lord's chamber. Dom had not been
asleep, merely lying on his back, arms behind his head, staring up
at the stars through the smoke-hole in the roof of the great hall
and thinking about Cedney Bloodwynne's lips. He was grateful, in
fact, for the interruption. Without a doubt, sleep would have
evaded him that night with so many thoughts spinning unruly tangles
in his mind.

The guard showed him to Bloodwynne's
room and closed the door behind him with a heavy thud.

"I hope I did not disturb you," said
the lying, deceitful woman. She wore a long, thick woolen robe over
a night shift. All her parts were well hidden.

"I was not asleep," he assured her. "I
had too much upon my mind. As, it seems, you do too."

Her eyes widened— in the warm
firelight they seemed even brighter— and then she gestured toward a
small table by the fire. "Do you play chess, Redbeard?"

Chess? She called him
there to play
chess
? Dom scratched his cheek. "Some. I am not well practiced
though."

She smiled and he knew she was glad
about that. The wench plainly thought to beat him at it. To beat
him at all her games. "Please, sit."

So he did, watching as she took the
chair across the table. "The guard said you wished to discuss the
Lady Rosamund's dowry."

Her tongue darted out, sliding hastily
from left to right, leaving a damp shine on the rose-pink lower
lip. Dom's cock was instantly hard again, necessitating a shift in
his chair. "Oh, I am content with the dowry I was offered," she
said. "But I wondered...why the king saw fit to send her to me.
After all, she is Norman and nobly born. I am Saxon and my manor is
not so very rich. Perhaps you, as her uncle, can enlighten
me."

Aha, so she still tested him, doubted
his identity. "The king thinks highly of you, Bloodwynne. And he is
a just ruler. You may be Saxon, but you have pledged your fealty to
him. Lady Rosamund, I suppose, is your reward." Dom knew it was the
Norman king's hope to see the two opposing sides joining together,
to bring peace and prosperity to the land. If they remained always
at war the country would suffer. Unlike his brothers, who paid no
particular heed to politics, Dom was always intrigued by the way
men's minds worked. Now he wondered, for the first time, at the
workings of a woman's mind.

This
woman who thought she could be a man.

He glanced down at the readied
chessboard. "Who goes first, Bloodwynne? You or I?"

"As my guest you may
proceed."

Evidently she was confident in her
abilities. He made his first move, turning the board and choosing
the black pieces for his own. "I have heard great things of your
bravery in battle, Bloodwynne. The king is much impressed by you, I
think."

"I do only what must be done. I do not
seek to fight, but I will defend my people and my manor." She sat
tall in her chair, hands on her knees, the posture masculine. At
first glance, anyone entering the room would see two men at the
chess table and think nothing of it. But Dom now saw only woman. He
could not believe he had ever hesitated about her
gender.